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diff --git a/8604-0.txt b/8604-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a6399d --- /dev/null +++ b/8604-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6280 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The House of Atreus, by Aeschylus + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The House of Atreus + +Author: Aeschylus + +Release Date: August, 2005 [eBook #8604] +[Most recently updated: June 19, 2023] + +Language: English + +Produced by: Ted Garvin, Lorna Hanrahan, Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF ATREUS *** + + + + + THE HOUSE OF ATREUS + + + by Aeschylus + + +BEING + + +THE AGAMEMNON, THE LIBATION-BEARERS AND THE FURIES + + +TRANSLATED BY E.D.A. MORSHEAD + + +Contents + + + INTRODUCTORY NOTE + AGAMEMNON + THE LIBATION-BEARERS + THE FURIES + + +INTRODUCTORY NOTE + + +Of the life of Aeschylus, the first of the three great masters of Greek +tragedy, only a very meager outline has come down to us. He was born at +Eleusis, near Athens, B. C. 525, the son of Euphorion. Before he was +twenty-five he began to compete for the tragic prize, but did not win a +victory for twelve years. He spent two periods of years in Sicily, +where he died in 456, killed, it is said, by a tortoise which an eagle +dropped on his head. Though a professional writer, he did his share of +fighting for his country, and is reported to have taken part in the +battles of Marathon, Salamis, and Plataea. + +Of the seventy or eighty plays which he is said to have written, only +seven survive: “The Persians,” dealing with the defeat of Xerxes at +Salamis; “The Seven against Thebes,” part of a tetralogy on the legend +of Thebes; “The Suppliants,” on the daughters of Danaüs; “Prometheus +Bound,” part of a trilogy, of which the first part was probably +“Prometheus, the Fire-bringer,” and the last, “Prometheus Unbound”; and +the “Oresteia,” the only example of a complete Greek tragic trilogy +which has come down to us, consisting of “Agamemnon”, “Choephorae” (The +Libation-Bearers), and the “Eumenides” (Furies). + +The importance of Aeschylus in the development of the drama is immense. +Before him tragedy had consisted of the chorus and one actor; and by +introducing a second actor, expanding the dramatic dialogue thus made +possible, and reducing the lyrical parts, he practically created Greek +tragedy as we understand it. Like other writers of his time, he acted +in his own plays, and trained the chorus in their dances and songs; and +he did much to give impressiveness to the performances by his +development of the accessories of scene and costume on the stage. Of +the four plays here reproduced, “Prometheus Bound” holds an exceptional +place in the literature of the world. (As conceived by Aeschylus, +Prometheus is the champion of man against the oppression of Zeus; and +the argument of the drama has a certain correspondence to the problem +of the Book of Job.) The Oresteian trilogy on “The House of Atreus” is +one of the supreme productions of all literature. It deals with the two +great themes of the retribution of crime and the inheritance of evil; +and here again a parallel may be found between the assertions of the +justice of God by Aeschylus and by the Hebrew prophet Ezekiel. Both +contend against the popular idea that the fathers have eaten sour +grapes and the children’s teeth are set on edge; both maintain that the +soul that sinneth, it shall die. The nobility of thought and the +majesty of style with which these ideas are set forth give this triple +drama its place at the head of the literary masterpieces of the antique +world. + + +AGAMEMNON + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +A WATCHMAN +A HERALD +CHORUS +AGAMEMNON +AEGISTHUS +CLYTEMNESTRA +CASSANDRA + +_The Scene is the Palace of Atreus at Mycenae. In front of the Palace +stand statues of the gods, and altars prepared for sacrifices._ + + + + +_A Watchman_ + +I pray the gods to quit me of my toils, +To close the watch I keep, this livelong year; +For as a watch-dog lying, not at rest, +Propped on one arm, upon the palace-roof +Of Atreus’ race, too long, too well I know +The starry conclave of the midnight sky, +Too well, the splendours of the firmament, +The lords of light, whose kingly aspect shows— +What time they set or climb the sky in turn— +The year’s divisions, bringing frost or fire. + +And now, as ever, am I set to mark +When shall stream up the glow of signal-flame, +The bale-fire bright, and tell its Trojan tale— +_Troy town is ta’en:_ such issue holds in hope +She in whose woman’s breast beats heart of man. + +Thus upon mine unrestful couch I lie, +Bathed with the dews of night, unvisited +By dreams—ah me!—for in the place of sleep +Stands Fear as my familiar, and repels +The soft repose that would mine eyelids seal. +And if at whiles, for the lost balm of sleep, +I medicine my soul with melody +Of trill or song—anon to tears I turn, +Wailing the woe that broods upon this home, +Not now by honour guided as of old. + +But now at last fair fall the welcome hour +That sets me free, whene’er the thick night glow +With beacon-fire of hope deferred no more. +All hail! + + [_A beacon-light is seen reddening the distant sky._] + +Fire of the night, that brings my spirit day, +Shedding on Argos light, and dance, and song, +Greetings to fortune, hail! + +Let my loud summons ring within the ears +Of Agamemnon’s queen, that she anon +Start from her couch and with a shrill voice cry +A joyous welcome to the beacon-blaze, +For Ilion’s fall; such fiery message gleams +From yon high flame; and I, before the rest, +Will foot the lightsome measure of our joy; +For I can say, _My master’s dice fell fair— +Behold! the triple sice, the lucky flame!_ +Now be my lot to clasp, in loyal love, +The hand of him restored, who rules our home: +Home—but I say no more: upon my tongue +Treads hard the ox o’ the adage. + Had it voice, +The home itself might soothliest tell its tale; +I, of set will, speak words the wise may learn, +To others, nought remember nor discern. + +[_Exit. The chorus of old men of Mycenae enter, each leaning on a +staff. During their song Clytemnestra appears in the background, +kindling the altars. _ + +CHORUS +Ten livelong years have rolled away, +Since the twin lords of sceptred sway, +By Zeus endowed with pride of place, +The doughty chiefs of Atreus’ race, + Went forth of yore, +To plead with Priam, face to face, + Before the judgment-seat of War! + +A thousand ships from Argive land +Put forth to bear the martial band, +That with a spirit stern and strong +Went out to right the kingdom’s wrong— +Pealed, as they went, the battle-song, + Wild as the vultures’ cry; +When o’er the eyrie, soaring high, +In wild bereavèd agony, +Around, around, in airy rings, +They wheel with oarage of their wings, +But not the eyas-brood behold, +That called them to the nest of old; +But let Apollo from the sky, +Or Pan, or Zeus, but hear the cry, +The exile cry, the wail forlorn, +Of birds from whom their home is torn— +On those who wrought the rapine fell, +Heaven sends the vengeful fiends of hell. + +Even so doth Zeus, the jealous lord +And guardian of the hearth and board, +Speed Atreus’ sons, in vengeful ire, +’Gainst Paris—sends them forth on fire, +Her to buy back, in war and blood, +Whom one did wed but many woo’d! +And many, many, by his will, +The last embrace of foes shall feel, +And many a knee in dust be bowed, +And splintered spears on shields ring loud, + Of Trojan and of Greek, before + That iron bridal-feast be o’er! + But as he willed ’tis ordered all, + And woes, by heaven ordained, must fall— + Unsoothed by tears or spilth of wine + Poured forth too late, the wrath divine + Glares vengeance on the flameless shrine. + + And we in gray dishonoured eld, + Feeble of frame, unfit were held + To join the warrior array + That then went forth unto the fray: + And here at home we tarry, fain + Our feeble footsteps to sustain, + Each on his staff—so strength doth wane, + And turns to childishness again. + For while the sap of youth is green, + And, yet unripened, leaps within, + The young are weakly as the old, + And each alike unmeet to hold + The vantage post of war! + And ah! when flower and fruit are o’er, + And on life’s tree the leaves are sere, + Age wendeth propped its journey drear, + As forceless as a child, as light + And fleeting as a dream of night + Lost in the garish day! + + But thou, O child of Tyndareus, + Queen Clytemnestra, speak! and say + What messenger of joy to-day + Hath won thine ear? what welcome news, + That thus in sacrificial wise + E’en to the city’s boundaries + Thou biddest altar-fires arise? + Each god who doth our city guard, + And keeps o’er Argos watch and ward + From heaven above, from earth below— + The mighty lords who rule the skies, + The market’s lesser deities, + To each and all the altars glow, + Piled for the sacrifice! + And here and there, anear, afar, + Streams skyward many a beacon-star, + Conjur’d and charm’d and kindled well + By pure oil’s soft and guileless spell, + Hid now no more + Within the palace’ secret store. + + O queen, we pray thee, whatsoe’er, + Known unto thee, were well revealed, + That thou wilt trust it to our ear, + And bid our anxious heart be healed! + That waneth now unto despair— + Now, waxing to a presage fair, + Dawns, from the altar, Hope—to scare + From our rent hearts the vulture Care. + +List! for the power is mine, to chant on high + The chiefs’ emprise, the strength that omens gave! +List! on my soul breathes yet a harmony, + From realms of ageless powers, and strong to save! + +How brother kings, twin lords of one command, + Led forth the youth of Hellas in their flower, +Urged on their way, with vengeful spear and brand, + By warrior-birds, that watched the parting hour. + +_Go forth to Troy_, the eagles seemed to cry— + And the sea-kings obeyed the sky-kings’ word, +When on the right they soared across the sky, + And one was black, one bore a white tail barred. + +High o’er the palace were they seen to soar, + Then lit in sight of all, and rent and tare, +Far from the fields that she should range no more, + Big with her unborn brood, a mother-hare. + +And one beheld, the soldier-prophet true, + And the two chiefs, unlike of soul and will, +In the twy-coloured eagles straight he knew, + And spake the omen forth, for good and ill. + +(Ah woe and well-a-day! but be the issue fair!) + +_Go forth,_ he cried, _and Priam’s town shall fall. + Yet long the time shall be; and flock and herd, +The people’s wealth, that roam before the wall. + Shall force hew down, when Fate shall give the word._ + +_But O beware! lest wrath in Heaven abide, + To dim the glowing battle-forge once more, +And mar the mighty curb of Trojan pride, + The steel of vengeance, welded as for war!_ + +_For virgin Artemis bears jealous hate + Against the royal house, the eagle-pair, +Who rend the unborn brood, insatiate— + Yea, loathes their banquet on the quivering hare._ + +(Ah woe and well-a-day! but be the issue fair!) + +_For well she loves—the goddess kind and mild— + The tender new-born cubs of lions bold, +Too weak to range—and well the sucking child + Of every beast that roams by wood and wold._ + +_So to the Lord of Heaven she prayeth still, + “Nay. if it must be, be the omen true! +Yet do the visioned eagles presage ill; + The end be well, but crossed with evil too!”_ + +_Healer Apollo! be her wrath controll’d, + Nor weave the long delay of thwarting gales, +To war against the Danaans and withhold + From the free ocean-waves their eager sails!_ + +_She craves, alas! to see a second life + Shed forth, a curst unhallowed sacrifice— +’Twixt wedded souls, artificer of strife, + And hate that knows not fear, and fell device._ + +_At home there tarries like a lurking snake, + Biding its time, a wrath unreconciled, + A wily watcher, passionate to slake, + In blood, resentment for a murdered child._ + +Such was the mighty warning, pealed of yore— + Amid good tidings, such the word of fear, +What time the fateful eagles hovered o’er + The kings, and Calchas read the omen clear. + +(In strains like his, once more, +Sing woe and well-a-day! but be the issue fair!) + + Zeus—if to The Unknown + That name of many names seem good— + Zeus, upon Thee I call. + Thro’ the mind’s every road + I passed, but vain are all, + Save that which names thee Zeus, the Highest One, + Were it but mine to cast away the load, +The weary load, that weighs my spirit down. + + He that was Lord of old, +In full-blown pride of place and valour bold, + Hath fallen and is gone, even as an old tale told! + And he that next held sway, + By stronger grasp o’erthrown + Hath pass’d away! +And whoso now shall bid the triumph-chant arise + To Zeus, and Zeus alone, +He shall be found the truly wise. +’Tis Zeus alone who shows the perfect way + Of knowledge: He hath ruled, +Men shall learn wisdom, by affliction schooled. + + In visions of the night, like dropping rain, + Descend the many memories of pain +Before the spirit’s sight: through tears and dole + Comes wisdom o’er the unwilling soul— + A boon, I wot, of all Divinity, +That holds its sacred throne in strength, above the sky! + + And then the elder chief, at whose command + The fleet of Greece was manned, + Cast on the seer no word of hate, + But veered before the sudden breath of Fate— + + Ah, weary while! for, ere they put forth sail, + Did every store, each minish’d vessel, fail, + While all the Achaean host + At Aulis anchored lay, + Looking across to Chalics and the coast + Where refluent waters welter, rock, and sway; + And rife with ill delay + From northern Strymon blew the thwarting blast— + Mother of famine fell, + That holds men wand’ring still + Far from the haven where they fain would be!— + And pitiless did waste + Each ship and cable, rotting on the sea, + And, doubling with delay each weary hour, +Withered with hope deferred th’ Achaeans’ warlike flower. + + But when, for bitter storm, a deadlier relief, + And heavier with ill to either chief, +Pleading the ire of Artemis, the seer avowed, + The two Atridae smote their sceptres on the plain, + And, striving hard, could not their tears restrain! + And then the elder monarch spake aloud— + _Ill lot were mine, to disobey! + And ill, to smite my child, my household’s love and pride! + To stain with virgin blood a father’s hands, and slay + My daughter, by the altar’s side! + ’Twixt woe and woe I dwell— + I dare not like a recreant fly, +And leave the league of ships, and fail each true ally; + For rightfully they crave, with eager fiery mind, + The virgin’s blood, shed forth to lull the adverse wind— + God send the deed be well!_ + + Thus on his neck he took + Fate’s hard compelling yoke; +Then, in the counter-gale of will abhorr’d, accursed, + To recklessness his shifting spirit veered— + Alas! that Frenzy, first of ills and worst, +With evil craft men’s souls to sin hath ever stirred! + + And so he steeled his heart—ah, well-a-day— + Aiding a war for one false woman’s sake, + His child to slay, + And with her spilt blood make +An offering, to speed the ships upon their way! + + Lusting for war, the bloody arbiters +Closed heart and ears, and would nor hear nor heed + The girl-voice plead, + _Pity me, Father!_ nor her prayers, + Nor tender, virgin years. + + So, when the chant of sacrifice was done, + Her father bade the youthful priestly train +Raise her, like some poor kid, above the altar-stone, + From where amid her robes she lay + Sunk all in swoon away— +Bade them, as with the bit that mutely tames the steed, + Her fair lips’ speech refrain, +Lest she should speak a curse on Atreus’ home and seed, + + So, trailing on the earth her robe of saffron dye, + With one last piteous dart from her beseeching eye + Those that should smite she smote— + Fair, silent, as a pictur’d form, but fain + To plead, _Is all forgot? +How oft those halls of old, +Wherein my sire high feast did hold,_ + _Rang to the virginal soft strain, + When I, a stainless child, + Sang from pure lips and undefiled, + Sang of my sire, and all +His honoured life, and how on him should fall + Heaven’s highest gift and gain!_ + And then—but I beheld not, nor can tell, + What further fate befel: + But this is sure, that Calchas’ boding strain + Can ne’er be void or vain. + This wage from Justice’ hand do sufferers earn, + The future to discern: + And yet—farewell, O secret of To-morrow! + Fore-knowledge is fore-sorrow. + Clear with the clear beams of the morrow’s sun, + The future presseth on. + Now, let the house’s tale, how dark soe’er, + Find yet an issue fair!— + So prays the loyal, solitary band + That guards the Apian land. + +[_They turn to Clytemnestra, who leaves the altars and comes forward._ + +O queen, I come in reverence of thy sway— +For, while the ruler’s kingly seat is void, +The loyal heart before his consort bends. +Now—be it sure and certain news of good, +Or the fair tidings of a flatt’ring hope, +That bids thee spread the light from shrine to shrine, +I, fain to hear, yet grudge not if thou hide. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +As saith the adage, _From the womb of Night +Spring forth, with promise fair, the young child Light._ +Ay—fairer even than all hope my news— +By Grecian hands is Priam’s city ta’en! + +CHORUS +What say’st thou? doubtful heart makes treach’rous ear. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Hear then again, and plainly—Troy is ours! + +CHORUS +Thrills thro’ my heart such joy as wakens tears. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Ay, thro’ those tears thine eye looks loyalty. + +CHORUS +But hast thou proof, to make assurance sure? + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Go to; I have—unless the god has lied. + +CHORUS +Hath some night-vision won thee to belief? + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Out on all presage of a slumb’rous soul! + +CHORUS +But wert thou cheered by Rumour’s wingless word? + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Peace—thou dost chide me as a credulous girl. + +CHORUS +Say then, how long ago the city fell? + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Even in this night that now brings forth the dawn. + +CHORUS +Yet who so swift could speed the message here? + +CLYTEMNESTRA +From Ida’s top Hephaestus, lord of fire, +Sent forth his sign; and on, and ever on, +Beacon to beacon sped the courier-flame. +From Ida to the crag, that Hermes loves, +Of Lemnos; thence unto the steep sublime +Of Athos, throne of Zeus, the broad blaze flared. +Thence, raised aloft to shoot across the sea, +The moving light, rejoicing in its strength, +Sped from the pyre of pine, and urged its way, +In golden glory, like some strange new sun, +Onward, and reached Macistus’ watching heights. +There, with no dull delay nor heedless sleep, +The watcher sped the tidings on in turn, +Until the guard upon Messapius’ peak +Saw the far flame gleam on Euripus’ tide, +And from the high-piled heap of withered furze +Lit the new sign and bade the message on. +Then the strong light, far flown and yet undimmed, +Shot thro’ the sky above Asopus’ plain, +Bright as the moon, and on Cithaeron’s crag +Aroused another watch of flying fire. +And there the sentinels no whit disowned, +But sent redoubled on, the hest of flame— +Swift shot the light, above Gorgopis’ bay, +To Aegiplanctus’ mount, and bade the peak +Fail not the onward ordinance of fire. +And like a long beard streaming in the wind, +Full-fed with fuel, roared and rose the blaze, +And onward flaring, gleamed above the cape, +Beneath which shimmers the Saronic bay, +And thence leapt light unto Arachne’s peak, +The mountain watch that looks upon our town. +Thence to th’ Atrides’ roof—in lineage fair, +A bright posterity of Ida’s fire. +So sped from stage to stage, fulfilled in turn, +Flame after flame, along the course ordained, +And lo! the last to speed upon its way +Sights the end first, and glows unto the goal. +And Troy is ta’en, and by this sign my lord +Tells me the tale, and ye have learned my word. + +CHORUS +To heaven, O queen, will I upraise new song: +But, wouldst thou speak once more, I fain would hear +From first to last the marvel of the tale. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Think you—this very morn—the Greeks in Troy, +And loud therein the voice of utter wail! +Within one cup pour vinegar and oil, +And look! unblent, unreconciled, they war. +So in the twofold issue of the strife +Mingle the victor’s shout, the captives’ moan. +For all the conquered whom the sword has spared +Cling weeping—some unto a brother slain, +Some childlike to a nursing father’s form, +And wail the loved and lost, the while their neck +Bows down already ’neath the captive’s chain. +And lo! the victors, now the fight is done, +Goaded by restless hunger, far and wide +Range all disordered thro’ the town, to snatch +Such victual and such rest as chance may give +Within the captive halls that once were Troy— +Joyful to rid them of the frost and dew, +Wherein they couched upon the plain of old— +Joyful to sleep the gracious night all through, +Unsummoned of the watching sentinel. +Yet let them reverence well the city’s gods, +The lords of Troy, tho’ fallen, and her shrines; +So shall the spoilers not in turn be spoiled. +Yea, let no craving for forbidden gain +Bid conquerors yield before the darts of greed. +For we need yet, before the race be won, +Homewards, unharmed, to round the course once more. +For should the host wax wanton ere it come, +Then, tho’ the sudden blow of fate be spared, +Yet in the sight of gods shall rise once more + +The great wrong of the slain, to claim revenge. +Now, hearing from this woman’s mouth of mine, +The tale and eke its warning, pray with me, +_Luck sway the scale, with no uncertain poise. +For my fair hopes are changed to fairer joys._ + +CHORUS +A gracious word thy woman’s lips have told, +Worthy a wise man’s utterance, O my queen; +Now with clear trust in thy convincing tale +I set me to salute the gods with song, +Who bring us bliss to counterpoise our pain. + +[_Exit Clytemnestra._ + +Zeus, Lord of heaven! and welcome night +Of victory, that hast our might + With all the glories crowned! +On towers of Ilion, free no more, +Hast flung the mighty mesh of war, + And closely girt them round, +Till neither warrior may ’scape, +Nor stripling lightly overleap +The trammels as they close, and close, +Till with the grip of doom our foes + In slavery’s coil are bound! + +Zeus, Lord of hospitality, +In grateful awe I bend to thee— + ’Tis thou hast struck the blow! + At Alexander, long ago, + We marked thee bend thy vengeful bow, +But long and warily withhold +The eager shaft, which, uncontrolled +And loosed too soon or launched too high, +Had wandered bloodless through the sky. + +Zeus, the high God!—whate’er be dim in doubt, + This can our thought track out— +The blow that fells the sinner is of God, + And as he wills, the rod + +Of vengeance smiteth sore. One said of old, + _The gods list not to hold +A reckoning with him whose feet oppress + The grace of holiness—_ +An impious word! for whensoe’er the sire + Breathed forth rebellious fire— +What time his household overflowed the measure + Of bliss and health and treasure— +His children’s children read the reckoning plain, + At last, in tears and pain. +On me let weal that brings no woe be sent, + And therewithal, content! +Who spurns the shrine of Right, nor wealth nor power + Shall be to him a tower, +To guard him from the gulf: there lies his lot, + Where all things are forgot. +Lust drives him on—lust, desperate and wild, + Fate’s sin-contriving child— +And cure is none; beyond concealment clear, + Kindles sin’s baleful glare. +As an ill coin beneath the wearing touch + Betrays by stain and smutch +Its metal false—such is the sinful wight. + Before, on pinions light, +Fair Pleasure flits, and lures him childlike on, + While home and kin make moan +Beneath the grinding burden of his crime; + Till, in the end of time, +Cast down of heaven, he pours forth fruitless prayer + To powers that will not hear. + + And such did Paris come + Unto Atrides’ home, +And thence, with sin and shame his welcome to repay, + Ravished the wife away— +And she, unto her country and her kin +Leaving the clash of shields and spears and arming ships, +And bearing unto Troy destruction for a dower, + And overbold in sin, +Went fleetly thro’ the gates, at midnight hour. + Oft from the prophets’ lips +Moaned out the warning and the wail—Ah woe! +Woe for the home, the home! and for the chieftains, woe + Woe for the bride-bed, warm +Yet from the lovely limbs, the impress of the form + Of her who loved her lord, a while ago! + And woe! for him who stands +Shamed, silent, unreproachful, stretching hands + That find her not, and sees, yet will not see, + That she is far away! +And his sad fancy, yearning o’er the sea, + Shall summon and recall +Her wraith, once more to queen it in his hall. + And sad with many memories, +The fair cold beauty of each sculptured face— + And all to hatefulness is turned their grace, +Seen blankly by forlorn and hungering eyes! + And when the night is deep, +Come visions, sweet and sad, and bearing pain + Of hopings vain— +Void, void and vain, for scarce the sleeping sight + Has seen its old delight, +When thro’ the grasps of love that bid it stay + It vanishes away +On silent wings that roam adown the ways of sleep. + + Such are the sights, the sorrows fell, +About our hearth—and worse, whereof I may not tell. + But, all the wide town o’er, +Each home that sent its master far away + From Hellas’ shore, +Feels the keen thrill of heart, the pang of loss, to-day. + For, truth to say, +The touch of bitter death is manifold! +Familiar was each face, and dear as life, + That went unto the war, +But thither, whence a warrior went of old, + Doth nought return— +Only a spear and sword, and ashes in an urn! + For Ares, lord of strife, +Who doth the swaying scales of battle hold, +War’s money-changer, giving dust for gold, + Sends back, to hearts that held them dear, +Scant ash of warriors, wept with many a tear, +Light to the hand, but heavy to the soul; + Yea, fills the light urn full + With what survived the flame— +Death’s dusty measure of a hero’s frame! + +_Alas!_ one cries, _and yet alas again! +Our chief is gone, the hero of the spear, + And hath not left his peer! +Ah woe!_ another moans—_my spouse is slain, + The death of honour, rolled in dust and blood, +Slain for a woman’s sin, a false wife’s shame!_ + Such muttered words of bitter mood +Rise against those who went forth to reclaim; + Yea, jealous wrath creeps on against th’ Atrides’ name. + + And others, far beneath the Ilian wall, + Sleep their last sleep—the goodly chiefs and tall, + Couched in the foeman’s land, whereon they gave +Their breath, and lords of Troy, each in his Trojan grave. + + Therefore for each and all the city’s breast + Is heavy with a wrath supprest, +As deep and deadly as a curse more loud + Flung by the common crowd; +And, brooding deeply, doth my soul await + Tidings of coming fate, +Buried as yet in darkness’ womb. +For not forgetful is the high gods’ doom + Against the sons of carnage: all too long +Seems the unjust to prosper and be strong, + Till the dark Furies come, +And smite with stern reversal all his home, + Down into dim obstruction—he is gone, +And help and hope, among the lost, is none! + +O’er him who vaunteth an exceeding fame, + Impends a woe condign; +The vengeful bolt upon his eyes doth flame, + Sped from the hand divine. +This bliss be mine, ungrudged of God, to feel— + To tread no city to the dust, + Nor see my own life thrust +Down to a slave’s estate beneath another’s heel! + +Behold, throughout the city wide +Have the swift feet of Rumour hied, + Roused by the joyful flame: +But is the news they scatter, sooth? +Or haply do they give for truth + Some cheat which heaven doth frame? +A child were he and all unwise, + Who let his heart with joy be stirred, +To see the beacon-fires arise, + And then, beneath some thwarting word, + Sicken anon with hope deferred. + The edge of woman’s insight still + Good news from true divideth ill; +Light rumours leap within the bound +That fences female credence round, +But, lightly born, as lightly dies +The tale that springs of her surmise. + +Soon shall we know whereof the bale-fires tell, +The beacons, kindled with transmitted flame; +Whether, as well I deem, their tale is true. +Or whether like some dream delusive came +The welcome blaze but to befool our soul. +For lo! I see a herald from the shore +Draw hither, shadowed with the olive-wreath— +And thirsty dust, twin-brother of the clay, +Speaks plain of travel far and truthful news— +No dumb surmise, nor tongue of flame in smoke, +Fitfully kindled from the mountain pyre; +But plainlier shall his voice say, _All is well,_ +Or—but away, forebodings adverse, now, + +And on fair promise fair fulfilment come! +And whoso for the state prays otherwise, +Himself reap harvest of his ill desire! + +_Enter_ HERALD +O land of Argos, fatherland of mine! +To thee at last, beneath the tenth year’s sun, +My feet return; the bark of my emprise, +Tho’ one by one hope’s anchors broke away, +Held by the last, and now rides safely here. +Long, long my soul despaired to win, in death, +Its longed-for rest within our Argive land: +And now all hail, O earth, and hail to thee, +New-risen sun! and hail our country’s God, +High-ruling Zeus, and thou, the Pythian lord, +Whose arrows smote us once—smite thou no more! +Was not thy wrath wreaked full upon our heads, +O king Apollo, by Scamander’s side? +Turn thou, be turned, be saviour, healer, now! +And hail, all gods who rule the street and mart +And Hermes hail! my patron and my pride, +Herald of heaven, and lord of heralds here! +And Heroes, ye who sped us on our way— +To one and all I cry, _Receive again +With grace such Argives as the spear has spared._ + +Ah, home of royalty, beloved halls, +And solemn shrines, and gods that front the morn! +Benign as erst, with sun-flushed aspect greet +The king returning after many days. +For as from night flash out the beams of day, +So out of darkness dawns a light, a king, +On you, on Argos—Agamemnon comes. +Then hail and greet him well! such meed befits +Him whose right hand hewed down the towers of Troy +With the great axe of Zeus who righteth wrong— +And smote the plain, smote down to nothingness +Each altar, every shrine; and far and wide +Dies from the whole land’s face its offspring fair. + +Such mighty yoke of fate he set on Troy— +Our lord and monarch, Atreus’ elder son, +And comes at last with blissful honour home; +Highest of all who walk on earth to-day— +Not Paris nor the city’s self that paid +Sin’s price with him, can boast, _Whate’er befal, +The guerdon we have won outweighs it all._ +But at Fate’s judgment-seat the robber stands +Condemned of rapine, and his prey is torn +Forth from his hands, and by his deed is reaped +A bloody harvest of his home and land +Gone down to death, and for his guilt and lust +His father’s race pays double in the dust. + +CHORUS +Hail, herald of the Greeks, new-come from war. + +HERALD +All hail! not death itself can fright me now. + +CHORUS +Was thine heart wrung with longing for thy land? + +HERALD +So that this joy doth brim mine eyes with tears. + +CHORUS +On you too then this sweet distress did fall— + +HERALD +How say’st thou? make me master of thy word. + +CHORUS +You longed for us who pined for you again. + +HERALD +Craved the land us who craved it, love for love? + +CHORUS +Yea till my brooding heart moaned out with pain. + +HERALD +Whence thy despair, that mars the army’s joy? + +CHORUS +_Sole cure of wrong is silence,_ saith the saw. + +HERALD +Thy kings afar, couldst thou fear other men? + +CHORUS +Death had been sweet, as thou didst say but now. + +HERALD +’Tis true; Fate smiles at last. Throughout our toil, +These many years, some chances issued fair, +And some, I wot, were chequered with a curse. +But who, on earth, hath won the bliss of heaven, +Thro’ time’s whole tenor an unbroken weal? +I could a tale unfold of toiling oars, +Ill rest, scant landings on a shore rock-strewn, +All pains, all sorrows, for our daily doom. +And worse and hatefuller our woes on land; +For where we couched, close by the foeman’s wall, +The river-plain was ever dank with dews, +Dropped from the sky, exuded from the earth, +A curse that clung unto our sodden garb, +And hair as horrent as a wild beast’s fell. +Why tell the woes of winter, when the birds +Lay stark and stiff, so stern was Ida’s snow? +Or summer’s scorch, what time the stirless wave +Sank to its sleep beneath the noon-day sun? +Why mourn old woes? their pain has passed away; +And passed away, from those who fell, all care, +For evermore, to rise and live again. + +Why sum the count of death, and render thanks +For life by moaning over fate malign? +Farewell, a long farewell to all our woes! +To us, the remnant of the host of Greece, +Comes weal beyond all counterpoise of woe; +Thus boast we rightfully to yonder sun, +Like him far-fleeted over sea and land. +_The Argive host prevailed to conquer Troy, +And in the temples of the gods of Greece +Hung up these spoils, a shining sign to Time._ +Let those who learn this legend bless aright +The city and its chieftains, and repay +The meed of gratitude to Zeus who willed +And wrought the deed. So stands the tale fulfilled. + +CHORUS +Thy words o’erbear my doubt: for news of good, +The ear of age hath ever youth enow: +But those within and Clytemnestra’s self +Would fain hear all; glad thou their ears and mine. + +_Re-enter_ CLYTEMNESTRA +Last night, when first the fiery courier came, +In sign that Troy is ta’en and razed to earth, +So wild a cry of joy my lips gave out, +That I was chidden—_Hath the beacon watch +Made sure unto thy soul the sack of Troy? +A very woman thou, whose heart leaps light +At wandering rumours!_—and with words like these +They showed me how I strayed, misled of hope. +Yet on each shrine I set the sacrifice, +And, in the strain they held for feminine, +Went heralds thro’ the city, to and fro, +With voice of loud proclaim, announcing joy; +And in each fane they lit and quenched with wine +The spicy perfumes fading in the flame. +All is fulfilled: I spare your longer tale— +The king himself anon shall tell me all. + +Remains to think what honour best may greet +My lord, the majesty of Argos, home. +What day beams fairer on a woman’s eyes +Than this, whereon she flings the portal wide, +To hail her lord, heaven-shielded, home from war? +This to my husband, that he tarry not, +But turn the city’s longing into joy! +Yea, let him come, and coming may he find +A wife no other than he left her, true +And faithful as a watch-dog to his home, +His foemen’s foe, in all her duties leal, +Trusty to keep for ten long years unmarred +The store whereon he set his master-seal. +Be steel deep-dyed, before ye look to see +Ill joy, ill fame, from other wight, in me! + +HERALD +’Tis fairly said: thus speaks a noble dame, +Nor speaks amiss, when truth informs the boast. + +[_Exit Clytemnestra._ + +CHORUS +So has she spoken—be it yours to learn +By clear interpreters her specious word. +Turn to me, herald—tell me if anon +The second well-loved lord of Argos comes? +Hath Menelaus safely sped with you? + +HERALD +Alas—brief boon unto my friends it were, +To flatter them, for truth, with falsehoods fair! + +CHORUS +Speak joy, if truth be joy, but truth, at worst— +Too plainly, truth and joy are here divorced. + +HERALD +The hero and his bark were rapt away +Far from the Grecian fleet? ’tis truth I say. + +CHORUS +Whether in all men’s sight from Ilion borne, +Or from the fleet by stress of weather torn? + +HERALD +Full on the mark thy shaft of speech doth light, +And one short word hath told long woes aright. + +CHORUS +But say, what now of him each comrade saith? +What their forebodings, of his life or death? + +HERALD +Ask me no more: the truth is known to none, +Save the earth-fostering, all-surveying Sun, + +CHORUS +Say, by what doom the fleet of Greece was driven? +How rose, how sank the storm, the wrath of heaven? + +HERALD +Nay, ill it were to mar with sorrow’s tale +The day of blissful news. The gods demand +Thanksgiving sundered from solicitude. +If one as herald came with rueful face +To say, _The curse has fallen, and the host +Gone down to death; and one wide wound has reached +The city’s heart, and out of many homes +Many are cast and consecrate to death, +Beneath the double scourge, that Ares loves, +The bloody pair, the fire and sword of doom_— +If such sore burden weighed upon my tongue, +’Twere fit to speak such words as gladden fiends. +But—coming as he comes who bringeth news +Of safe return from toil, and issues fair, +To men rejoicing in a weal restored— +Dare I to dash good words with ill, and say +How the gods’ anger smote the Greeks in storm? +For fire and sea, that erst held bitter feud, +Now swore conspiracy and pledged their faith, +Wasting the Argives worn with toil and war. +Night and great horror of the rising wave +Came o’er us, and the blasts that blow from Thrace +Clashed ship with ship, and some with plunging prow +Thro’ scudding drifts of spray and raving storm +Vanished, as strays by some ill shepherd driven. +And when at length the sun rose bright, we saw +Th’ Aegaean sea-field flecked with flowers of death, +Corpses of Grecian men and shattered hulls. +For us indeed, some god, as well I deem, +No human power, laid hand upon our helm, +Snatched us or prayed us from the powers of air, +And brought our bark thro’ all, unharmed in hull: +And saving Fortune sat and steered us fair, +So that no surge should gulf us deep in brine, +Nor grind our keel upon a rocky shore. + +So ’scaped we death that lurks beneath the sea, +But, under day’s white light, mistrustful all +Of fortune’s smile, we sat and brooded deep, +Shepherds forlorn of thoughts that wandered wild, +O’er this new woe; for smitten was our host, +And lost as ashes scattered from the pyre. +Of whom if any draw his life-breath yet, +Be well assured, he deems of us as dead, +As we of him no other fate forebode. +But heaven save all! If Menelaus live, +He will not tarry, but will surely come: +Therefore if anywhere the high sun’s ray +Descries him upon earth, preserved by Zeus, +Who wills not yet to wipe his race away, +Hope still there is that homeward he may wend. +Enough—thou hast the truth unto the end. + +CHORUS + Say, from whose lips the presage fell? + Who read the future all too well, + And named her, in her natal hour, + Helen, the bride with war for dower? + ’Twas one of the Invisible, + Guiding his tongue with prescient power. + On fleet, and host, and citadel, + War, sprung from her, and death did lour, + When from the bride-bed’s fine-spun veil + She to the Zephyr spread her sail. + + Strong blew the breeze—the surge closed o’er + The cloven track of keel and oar, + But while she fled, there drove along, + Fast in her wake, a mighty throng— + Athirst for blood, athirst for war, + Forward in fell pursuit they sprung, + Then leapt on Simois’ bank ashore, + The leafy coppices among— + No rangers, they, of wood and field, + But huntsmen of the sword and shield. + + Heaven’s jealousy, that works its will, + Sped thus on Troy its destined ill, + Well named, at once, the Bride and Bane; + And loud rang out the bridal strain; + But they to whom that song befel + Did turn anon to tears again; + Zeus tarries, but avenges still + The husband’s wrong, the household’s stain! + He, the hearth’s lord, brooks not to see + Its outraged hospitality. + + Even now, and in far other tone, + Troy chants her dirge of mighty moan, + _Woe upon Paris, woe and hate! + Who wooed his country’s doom for mate_— +This is the burthen of the groan, + Wherewith she wails disconsolate +The blood, so many of her own + Have poured in vain, to fend her fate; +Troy! thou hast fed and freed to roam +A lion-cub within thy home! + +A suckling creature, newly ta’en +From mother’s teat, still fully fain + Of nursing care; and oft caressed, + Within the arms, upon the breast, +Even as an infant, has it lain; + Or fawns and licks, by hunger pressed, +The hand that will assuage its pain; + In life’s young dawn, a well-loved guest, +A fondling for the children’s play, +A joy unto the old and gray. + +But waxing time and growth betrays +The blood-thirst of the lion-race, + And, for the house’s fostering care, + Unbidden all, it revels there, +And bloody recompense repays— + Rent flesh of tine, its talons tare: +A mighty beast, that slays and slays, + And mars with blood the household fair, +A God-sent pest invincible, +A minister of fate and hell. + + Even so to Ilion’s city came by stealth + A spirit as of windless seas and skies, + A gentle phantom-form of joy and wealth, + With love’s soft arrows speeding from its eyes— +Love’s rose, whose thorn doth pierce the soul in subtle wise. + +Ah, well-a-day! the bitter bridal-bed, + When the fair mischief lay by Paris’ side! +What curse on palace and on people sped + With her, the Fury sent on Priam’s pride, +By angered Zeus! what tears of many a widowed bride! + + Long, long ago to mortals this was told, + How sweet security and blissful state + Have curses for their children—so men hold— + And for the man of all-too prosperous fate +Springs from a bitter seed some woe insatiate. + + Alone, alone, I deem far otherwise; + Not bliss nor wealth it is, but impious deed, + From which that after-growth of ill doth rise! + Woe springs from wrong, the plant is like the seed— +While Right, in honour’s house, doth its own likeness breed. + + Some past impiety, some gray old crime, + Breeds the young curse, that wantons in our ill, + Early or late, when haps th’ appointed time— + And out of light brings power of darkness still, +A master-fiend, a foe, unseen, invincible; + + A pride accursed, that broods upon the race + And home in which dark Atè holds her sway— + Sin’s child and Woe’s, that wears its parents’ face; + While Right in smoky cribs shines clear as day, +And decks with weal his life, who walks the righteous way. + + From gilded halls, that hands polluted raise, + Right turns away with proud averted eyes, + And of the wealth, men stamp amiss with praise, + Heedless, to poorer, holier temples hies, +And to Fate’s goal guides all, in its appointed wise. + + Hail to thee, chief of Atreus’ race, + Returning proud from Troy subdued! +How shall I greet thy conquering face? +How nor a fulsome praise obtrude, +Nor stint the meed of gratitude? +For mortal men who fall to ill +Take little heed of open truth, +But seek unto its semblance still: +The show of weeping and of ruth +To the forlorn will all men pay, +But, of the grief their eyes display, +Nought to the heart doth pierce its way. +And, with the joyous, they beguile +Their lips unto a feigned smile, +And force a joy, unfelt the while; +But he who as a shepherd wise + Doth know his flock, can ne’er misread +Truth in the falsehood of his eyes, +Who veils beneath a kindly guise + A lukewarm love in deed. +And thou, our leader—when of yore +Thou badest Greece go forth to war +For Helen’s sake—I dare avow +That then I held thee not as now; +That to my vision thou didst seem +Dyed in the hues of disesteem. +I held thee for a pilot ill, +And reckless, of thy proper will, +Endowing others doomed to die +With vain and forced audacity! +Now from my heart, ungrudgingly, +To those that wrought, this word be said— +_Well fall the labour ye have sped—_ +Let time and search, O king, declare +What men within thy city’s bound +Were loyal to the kingdom’s care, + And who were faithless found. + +[_Enter Agamemnon in a chariot, accompanied by Cassandra. He speaks +without descending._ + +AGAMEMNON +First, as is meet, a king’s All-hail be said +To Argos, and the gods that guard the land— +Gods who with me availed to speed us home, +With me availed to wring from Priam’s town +The due of justice. In the court of heaven +The gods in conclave sat and judged the cause, +Not from a pleader’s tongue, and at the close, +Unanimous into the urn of doom +This sentence gave, _On Ilion and her men, +Death:_ and where hope drew nigh to pardon’s urn +No hand there was to cast a vote therein. +And still the smoke of fallen Ilion +Rises in sight of all men, and the flame +Of Atè’s hecatomb is living yet, +And where the towers in dusty ashes sink, +Rise the rich fumes of pomp and wealth consumed. +For this must all men pay unto the gods +The meed of mindful hearts and gratitude: +For by our hands the meshes of revenge +Closed on the prey, and for one woman’s sake +Troy trodden by the Argive monster lies— +The foal, the shielded band that leapt the wall, +What time with autumn sank the Pleiades. +Yea, o’er the fencing wall a lion sprang +Ravening, and lapped his fill of blood of kings. + +Such prelude spoken to the gods in full, +To you I turn, and to the hidden thing +Whereof ye spake but now: and in that thought +I am as you, and what ye say, say I. +For few are they who have such inborn grace, +As to look up with love, and envy not, +When stands another on the height of weal. +Deep in his heart, whom jealousy hath seized, +Her poison lurking doth enhance his load; +For now beneath his proper woes he chafes, +And sighs withal to see another’s weal. +I speak not idly, but from knowledge sure— +There be who vaunt an utter loyalty, +That is but as the ghost of friendship dead, +A shadow in a glass, of faith gone by. +One only—he who went reluctant forth +Across the seas with me—Odysseus—he +Was loyal unto me with strength and will, +A trusty trace-horse bound unto my car. +Thus—be he yet beneath the light of day, +Or dead, as well I fear—I speak his praise. + +Lastly, whate’er be due to men or gods, +With joint debate, in public council held, +We will decide, and warily contrive +That all which now is well may so abide: +For that which haply needs the healer’s art, +That will we medicine, discerning well +If cautery or knife befit the time. + +Now, to my palace and the shrines of home, +I will pass in, and greet you first and fair, +Ye gods, who bade me forth, and home again— +And long may Victory tarry in my train! + +[_Enter Clytemnestra, followed by maidens bearing purple robes._ + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Old men of Argos, lieges of our realm, +Shame shall not bid me shrink lest ye should see +The love I bear my lord. Such blushing fear +Dies at the last from hearts of human kind. +From mine own soul and from no alien lips, +I know and will reveal the life I bore, +Reluctant, through the lingering livelong years, +The while my lord beleaguered Ilion’s wall. + +First, that a wife sat sundered from her lord, +In widowed solitude, was utter woe— +And woe, to hear how rumour’s many tongues + All boded evil—woe, when he who came + And he who followed spake of ill on ill, + Keening _Lost, lost, all lost!_ thro’ hall and bower. + Had this my husband met so many wounds, + As by a thousand channels rumour told, + No network e’er was full of holes as he. + Had he been slain, as oft as tidings came + That he was dead, he well might boast him now + A second Geryon of triple frame, + With triple robe of earth above him laid— + For that below, no matter—triply dead, + Dead by one death for every form he bore. + And thus distraught by news of wrath and woe, + Oft for self-slaughter had I slung the noose, + But others wrenched it from my neck away. + Hence haps it that Orestes, thine and mine, + The pledge and symbol of our wedded troth, + Stands not beside us now, as he should stand. + Nor marvel thou at this: he dwells with one + Who guards him loyally; ’tis Phocis’ king, + Strophius, who warned me erst, _Bethink thee, queen, + What woes of doubtful issue well may fall! + Thy lord in daily jeopardy at Troy, + While here a populace uncurbed may cry + “Down with the council, down!” bethink thee too, + ’Tis the world’s way to set a harder heel + On fallen power._ + For thy child’s absence then + Such mine excuse, no wily afterthought. + For me, long since the gushing fount of tears + Is wept away; no drop is left to shed. + Dim are the eyes that ever watched till dawn, + Weeping, the bale-fires, piled for thy return, + Night after night unkindled. If I slept, + Each sound—the tiny humming of a gnat, + Roused me again, again, from fitful dreams + Wherein I felt thee smitten, saw thee slain, + Thrice for each moment of mine hour of sleep. + +All this I bore, and now, released from woe, +I hail my lord as watch-dog of a fold, +As saving stay-rope of a storm-tossed ship, +As column stout that holds the roof aloft, +As only child unto a sire bereaved, +As land beheld, past hope, by crews forlorn, +As sunshine fair when tempest’s wrath is past, +As gushing spring to thirsty wayfarer. +So sweet it is to ’scape the press of pain. +With such salute I bid my husband hail! +Nor heaven be wroth therewith! for long and hard +I bore that ire of old. + Sweet lord, step forth, +Step from thy car, I pray—nay, not on earth +Plant the proud foot, O king, that trod down Troy! +Women! why tarry ye, whose task it is +To spread your monarch’s path with tapestry? +Swift, swift, with purple strew his passage fair, +That justice lead him to a home, at last, +He scarcely looked to see. + For what remains, +Zeal unsubdued by sleep shall nerve my hand +To work as right and as the gods command. + +AGAMEMNON +Daughter of Leda, watcher o’er my home, +Thy greeting well befits mine absence long, +For late and hardly has it reached its end. +Know, that the praise which honour bids us crave, +Must come from others’ lips, not from our own: +See too that not in fashion feminine +Thou make a warrior’s pathway delicate; +Not unto me, as to some Eastern lord, +Bowing thyself to earth, make homage loud. +Strew not this purple that shall make each step +An arrogance; such pomp beseems the gods, +Not me. A mortal man to set his foot +On these rich dyes? I hold such pride in fear, +And bid thee honour me as man, not god. + + Fear not—such footcloths and all gauds apart, + Loud from the trump of Fame my name is blown; + Best gift of heaven it is, in glory’s hour, + To think thereon with soberness: and thou— + Bethink thee of the adage, _Call none blest + Till peaceful death have crowned a life of weal._ + ’Tis said: I fain would fare unvexed by fear. + +CLYTEMNESTRA + Nay, but unsay it—thwart not thou my will! + +AGAMEMNON + Know, I have said, and will not mar my word. + +CLYTEMNESTRA + Was it fear made this meekness to the gods? + +AGAMEMNON + If cause be cause, ’tis mine for this resolve. + +CLYTEMNESTRA + What, think’st thou, in thy place had Priam done? + +AGAMEMNON + He surely would have walked on broidered robes. + +CLYTEMNESTRA + Then fear not thou the voice of human blame. + +AGAMEMNON + Yet mighty is the murmur of a crowd. + +CLYTEMNESTRA + Shrink not from envy, appanage of bliss. + +AGAMEMNON + War is not woman’s part, nor war of words. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Yet happy victors well may yield therein. + +AGAMEMNON +Dost crave for triumph in this petty strife? + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Yield; of thy grace permit me to prevail! + +AGAMEMNON +Then, if thou wilt, let some one stoop to loose +Swiftly these sandals, slaves beneath my foot: +And stepping thus upon the sea’s rich dye, +I pray, _Let none among the gods look down +With jealous eye on me_—reluctant all, +To trample thus and mar a thing of price, +Wasting the wealth of garments silver-worth. +Enough hereof: and, for the stranger maid, +Lead her within, but gently: God on high +Looks graciously on him whom triumph’s hour +Has made not pitiless. None willingly +Wear the slave’s yoke—and she, the prize and flower +Of all we won, comes hither in my train, +Gift of the army to its chief and lord. +—Now, since in this my will bows down to thine, +I will pass in on purples to my home. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +A Sea there is—and who shall stay its springs? +And deep within its breast, a mighty store, +Precious as silver, of the purple dye, +Whereby the dipped robe doth its tint renew. +Enough of such, O king, within thy halls +There lies, a store that cannot fail; but I— +I would have gladly vowed unto the gods +Cost of a thousand garments trodden thus, +(Had once the oracle such gift required) +Contriving ransom for thy life preserved. + For while the stock is firm the foliage climbs, + Spreading a shade what time the dog-star glows; + And thou, returning to thine hearth and home, + Art as a genial warmth in winter hours, + Or as a coolness, when the lord of heaven + Mellows the juice within the bitter grape. + Such boons and more doth bring into a home + The present footstep of its proper lord. + Zeus, Zeus, Fulfilment’s lord! my vows fulfil, + And whatsoe’er it be, work forth thy will! + +[_Exeunt all but Cassandra and the Chorus._ + +CHORUS + Wherefore for ever on the wings of fear + Hovers a vision drear + Before my boding heart? a strain, + Unbidden and unwelcome, thrills mine ear, + Oracular of pain. + Not as of old upon my bosom’s throne + Sits Confidence, to spurn + Such fears, like dreams we know not to discern. + Old, old and gray long since the time has grown, + Which saw the linkèd cables moor + The fleet, when erst it came to Ilion’s sandy shore; + And now mine eyes and not another’s see + Their safe return. + + Yet none the less in me + The inner spirit sings a boding song, + Self-prompted, sings the Furies’ strain— + And seeks, and seeks in vain, + To hope and to be strong! + + Ah! to some end of Fate, unseen, unguessed, + Are these wild throbbings of my heart and breast— + Yea, of some doom they tell— + Each pulse, a knell. + Lief, lief I were, that all + To unfulfilment’s hidden realm might fall. + + Too far, too far our mortal spirits strive, + Grasping at utter weal, unsatisfied— + Till the fell curse, that dwelleth hard beside, + Thrust down the sundering wall. Too fair they blow, + The gales that waft our bark on Fortune’s tide! + Swiftly we sail, the sooner all to drive + Upon the hidden rock, the reef of woe. + + Then if the hand of caution warily + Sling forth into the sea + Part of the freight, lest all should sink below, + From the deep death it saves the bark: even so, + Doom-laden though it be, once more may rise + His household, who is timely wise. + + How oft the famine-stricken field +Is saved by God’s large gift, the new year’s yield! + But blood of man once spilled, + Once at his feet shed forth, and darkening the plain,— + Nor chant nor charm can call it back again. + + So Zeus hath willed: +Else had he spared the leech Asclepius, skilled + To bring man from the dead: the hand divine +Did smite himself with death—a warning and a sign. + + Ah me! if Fate, ordained of old, +Held not the will of gods constrained, controlled, + Helpless to us-ward, and apart— + Swifter than speech my heart +Had poured its presage out! +Now, fretting, chafing in the dark of doubt, + ’Tis hopeless to unfold +Truth, from fear’s tangled skein; and, yearning to proclaim + Its thought, my soul is prophecy and flame. + +_Re-enter_ CLYTEMNESTRA +Get thee within thou too, Cassandra, go! +For Zeus to thee in gracious mercy grants +To share the sprinklings of the lustral bowl, +Beside the altar of his guardianship, +Slave among many slaves. What, haughty still? +Step from the car; Alcmena’s son, ’tis said, +Was sold perforce and bore the yoke of old. +Ay, hard it is, but, if such fate befall, +’Tis a fair chance to serve within a home +Of ancient wealth and power. An upstart lord, +To whom wealth’s harvest came beyond his hope, +Is as a lion to his slaves, in all +Exceeding fierce, immoderate in sway. +Pass in: thou hearest what our ways will be. + +CHORUS +Clear unto thee, O maid, is her command, +But thou—within the toils of Fate thou art— +If such thy will, I urge thee to obey; +Yet I misdoubt thou dost nor hear nor heed. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +I wot—unless like swallows she doth use +Some strange barbarian tongue from oversea— +My words must speak persuasion to her soul. + +CHORUS +Obey: there is no gentler way than this. +Step from the car’s high seat and follow her. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Truce to this bootless waiting here without! +I will not stay: beside the central shrine +The victims stand, prepared for knife and fire— +Offerings from hearts beyond all hope made glad. +Thou—if thou reckest aught of my command, +’Twere well done soon: but if thy sense be shut +From these my words, let thy barbarian hand +Fulfil by gesture the default of speech. + +CHORUS +No native is she, thus to read thy words +Unaided: like some wild thing of the wood, +New-trapped, behold! she shrinks and glares on thee. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +’Tis madness and the rule of mind distraught, +Since she beheld her city sink in fire, +And hither comes, nor brooks the bit, until +In foam and blood her wrath be champed away. +See ye to her; unqueenly ’tis for me, +Unheeded thus to cast away my words. + +[_Exit Clytemnestra._ + +CHORUS +But with me pity sits in anger’s place. +Poor maiden, come thou from the car; no way +There is but this—take up thy servitude. + +CASSANDRA +Woe, woe, alas! Earth, Mother Earth! and thou +Apollo, Apollo! + +CHORUS +Peace! shriek not to the bright prophetic god, +Who will not brook the suppliance of woe. + +CASSANDRA +Woe, woe, alas! Earth, Mother Earth! and thou +Apollo, Apollo! + +CHORUS +Hark, with wild curse she calls anew on him, +Who stands far off and loathes the voice of wail. + +CASSANDRA +Apollo, Apollo! +God of all ways, but only Death’s to me, +Once and again, O thou, Destroyer named, +Thou hast destroyed me, thou, my love of old! + +CHORUS +She grows presageful of her woes to come, +Slave tho’ she be, instinct with prophecy. + +CASSANDRA +Apollo, Apollo! +God of all ways, but only Death’s to me, +O thou Apollo, thou Destroyer named! +What way hast led me, to what evil home? + +CHORUS +Know’st thou it not? The home of Atreus’ race: +Take these my words for sooth and ask no more. + +CASSANDRA +Home cursed of God! Bear witness unto me, + Ye visioned woes within— +The blood-stained hands of them that smite their kin— +The strangling noose, and, spattered o’er +With human blood, the reeking floor! + +CHORUS +How like a sleuth-hound questing on the track, +Keen-scented unto blood and death she hies! + +CASSANDRA +Ah! can the ghostly guidance fail, +Whereby my prophet-soul is onwards led? +Look! for their flesh the spectre-children wail, +Their sodden limbs on which their father fed! + +CHORUS +Long since we knew of thy prophetic fame,— +But for those deeds we seek no prophet’s tongue. + +CASSANDRA +God! ’tis another crime— +Worse than the storied woe of olden time, +Cureless, abhorred, that one is plotting here— +A shaming death, for those that should be dear! + Alas! and far away, in foreign land, + He that should help doth stand! + +CHORUS +I knew th’ old tales, the city rings withal— +But now thy speech is dark, beyond my ken. + +CASSANDRA +O wretch, O purpose fell! +Thou for thy wedded lord +The cleansing wave hast poured— +A treacherous welcome! + How the sequel tell? +Too soon ’twill come, too soon, for now, even now, +She smites him, blow on blow! + +CHORUS +Riddles beyond my rede—I peer in vain +Thro’ the dim films that screen the prophecy. + +CASSANDRA +God! a new sight! a net, a snare of hell, +Set by her hand—herself a snare more fell! + A wedded wife, she slays her lord, +Helped by another hand! + Ye powers, whose hate + Of Atreus’ home no blood can satiate, +Raise the wild cry above the sacrifice abhorred! + +CHORUS +Why biddest thou some fiend, I know not whom, +Shriek o’er the house? Thine is no cheering word. + Back to my heart in frozen fear I feel + My waning life-blood run— + The blood that round the wounding steel + Ebbs slow, as sinks life’s parting sun— +Swift, swift and sure, some woe comes pressing on! + +CASSANDRA + Away, away—keep him away— + The monarch of the herd, the pasture’s pride, + Far from his mate! In treach’rous wrath, + Muffling his swarthy horns, with secret scathe + She gores his fenceless side! + Hark! in the brimming bath, + The heavy plash—the dying cry— +Hark—in the laver—hark, he falls by treachery! + +CHORUS + I read amiss dark sayings such as thine, + Yet something warns me that they tell of ill. + O dark prophetic speech, + Ill tidings dost thou teach + Ever, to mortals here below! + Ever some tale of awe and woe + Thro’ all thy windings manifold + Do we unriddle and unfold! + +CASSANDRA + Ah well-a-day! the cup of agony, + Whereof I chant, foams with a draught for me. + Ah lord, ah leader, thou hast led me here— + Was’t but to die with thee whose doom is near? + +CHORUS + Distraught thou art, divinely stirred, + And wailest for thyself a tuneless lay, + As piteous as the ceaseless tale + Wherewith the brown melodious bird + Doth ever Itys! Itys! wail, +Deep-bowered in sorrow, all its little life-time’s day! + +CASSANDRA + Ah for thy fate, O shrill-voiced nightingale! + Some solace for thy woes did Heaven afford, + Clothed thee with soft brown plumes, and life apart from wail— + But for my death is edged the double-biting sword! + +CHORUS + What pangs are these, what fruitless pain, + Sent on thee from on high? + Thou chantest terror’s frantic strain, + Yet in shrill measured melody. + How thus unerring canst thou sweep along + The prophet’s path of boding song? + +CASSANDRA + Woe, Paris, woe on thee! thy bridal joy + Was death and fire upon thy race and Troy! + And woe for thee, Scamander’s flood! + Beside thy banks, O river fair, + I grew in tender nursing care + From childhood unto maidenhood! + Now not by thine, but by Cocytus’ stream + And Acheron’s banks shall ring my boding scream. + +CHORUS + Too plain is all, too plain! +A child might read aright thy fateful strain. + Deep in my heart their piercing fang + Terror and sorrow set, the while I heard + That piteous, low, tender word, +Yet to mine ear and heart a crushing pang. + +CASSANDRA + Woe for my city, woe for Ilion’s fall! + Father, how oft with sanguine stain + Streamed on thine altar-stone the blood of cattle, slain + That heaven might guard our wall! + But all was shed in vain. + Low lie the shattered towers whereas they fell, + And I—ah burning heart!—shall soon lie low as well. + +CHORUS + Of sorrow is thy song, of sorrow still! + Alas, what power of ill + Sits heavy on thy heart and bids thee tell + In tears of perfect moan thy deadly tale? +Some woe—I know not what—must close thy piteous wail. + +CASSANDRA + List! for no more the presage of my soul, + Bride-like, shall peer from its secluding veil; + But as the morning wind blows clear the east, + More bright shall blow the wind of prophecy, + And as against the low bright line of dawn + Heaves high and higher yet the rolling wave, + So in the clearing skies of prescience + Dawns on my soul a further, deadlier woe, + And I will speak, but in dark speech no more. + Bear witness, ye, and follow at my side— + I scent the trail of blood, shed long ago. + Within this house a choir abidingly + Chants in harsh unison the chant of ill; + Yea, and they drink, for more enhardened joy, + Man’s blood for wine, and revel in the halls, + Departing never, Furies of the home. + They sit within, they chant the primal curse, + Each spitting hatred on that crime of old, + The brother’s couch, the love incestuous + That brought forth hatred to the ravisher. + Say, is my speech or wild and erring now, + Or doth its arrow cleave the mark indeed? + They called me once, _The prophetess of lies, + The wandering hag, the pest of every door—_ + Attest ye now, _She knows in very sooth + The house’s curse, the storied infamy._ + +CHORUS +Yet how should oath—how loyally soe’er +I swear it—aught avail thee? In good sooth, +My wonder meets thy claim: I stand amazed +That thou, a maiden born beyond the seas, +Dost as a native know and tell aright +Tales of a city of an alien tongue. + +CASSANDRA +That is my power—a boon Apollo gave. + +CHORUS +God though he were, yearning for mortal maid? + +CASSANDRA +Ay! what seemed shame of old is shame no more. + +CHORUS +Such finer sense suits not with slavery. + +CASSANDRA +He strove to win me, panting for my love. + +CHORUS +Came ye by compact unto bridal joys? + +CASSANDRA +Nay—for I plighted troth, then foiled the god. + +CHORUS +Wert thou already dowered with prescience? + +CASSANDRA +Yea—prophetess to Troy of all her doom. + +CHORUS +How left thee then Apollo’s wrath unscathed? + +CASSANDRA +I, false to him, seemed prophet false to all. + +CHORUS +Not so—to us at least thy words seem sooth. + +CASSANDRA +Woe for me, woe! Again the agony— +Dread pain that sees the future all too well +With ghastly preludes whirls and racks my soul. +Behold ye—yonder on the palace roof +The spectre-children sitting—look, such things +As dreams are made on, phantoms as of babes, +Horrible shadows, that a kinsman’s hand +Hath marked with murder, and their arms are full— +A rueful burden—see, they hold them up, +The entrails upon which their father fed! + +For this, for this, I say there plots revenge +A coward lion, couching in the lair— +Guarding the gate against my master’s foot— +My master—mine—I bear the slave’s yoke now, +And he, the lord of ships, who trod down Troy, +Knows not the fawning treachery of tongue +Of this thing false and dog-like—how her speech +Glozes and sleeks her purpose, till she win +By ill fate’s favour the desired chance, +Moving like Atè to a secret end. +O aweless soul! the woman slays her lord— +Woman? what loathsome monster of the earth +Were fit comparison? The double snake— +Or Scylla, where she dwells, the seaman’s bane, +Girt round about with rocks? some hag of hell, +Raving a truceless curse upon her kin? +Hark—even now she cries exultingly +The vengeful cry that tells of battle turned— +How fain, forsooth, to greet her chief restored! +Nay then, believe me not: what skills belief +Or disbelief? Fate works its will—and thou +Wilt see and say in ruth, _Her tale was true._ + +CHORUS +Ah—’tis Thyestes’ feast on kindred flesh— +I guess her meaning and with horror thrill, +Hearing no shadow’d hint of th’ o’er-true tale, +But its full hatefulness: yet, for the rest, +Far from the track I roam, and know no more. + +CASSANDRA +’Tis Agamemnon’s doom thou shalt behold. + +CHORUS +Peace, hapless woman, to thy boding words! + +CASSANDRA +Far from my speech stands he who sains and saves. + +CHORUS +Ay—were such doom at hand—which God forbid! + +CASSANDRA +Thou prayest idly—these move swift to slay. + +CHORUS +What man prepares a deed of such despite? + +CASSANDRA +Fool! thus to read amiss mine oracles. + +CHORUS +Deviser and device are dark to me. + +CASSANDRA +Dark! all too well I speak the Grecian tongue. + +CHORUS +Ay—but in thine, as in Apollo’s strains, +Familiar is the tongue, but dark the thought. + +CASSANDRA +Ah ah the fire! it waxes, nears me now— +Woe, woe for me, Apollo of the dawn! + +Lo, how the woman-thing, the lioness +Couched with the wolf—her noble mate afar— +Will slay me, slave forlorn! Yea, like some witch, +She drugs the cup of wrath, that slays her lord +With double death—his recompense for me! +Ay, ’tis for me, the prey he bore from Troy, +That she hath sworn his death, and edged the steel! +Ye wands, ye wreaths that cling around my neck, +Ye showed me prophetess yet scorned of all— +I stamp you into death, or e’er I die— +Down, to destruction! + Thus I stand revenged— +Go, crown some other with a prophet’s woe. +Look! it is he, it is Apollo’s self +Rending from me the prophet-robe he gave. +God! while I wore it yet, thou saw’st me mocked +There at my home by each malicious mouth— +To all and each, an undivided scorn. +The name alike and fate of witch and cheat— +Woe, poverty, and famine—all I bore; +And at this last the god hath brought me here +Into death’s toils, and what his love had made, +His hate unmakes me now: and I shall stand +Not now before the altar of my home, +But me a slaughter-house and block of blood +Shall see hewn down, a reeking sacrifice. +Yet shall the gods have heed of me who die, +For by their will shall one requite my doom. +He, to avenge his father’s blood outpoured, +Shall smite and slay with matricidal hand. +Ay, he shall come—tho’ far away he roam, +A banished wanderer in a stranger’s land— +To crown his kindred’s edifice of ill, +Called home to vengeance by his father’s fall: +Thus have the high gods sworn, and shall fulfil. + +And now why mourn I, tarrying on earth, +Since first mine Ilion has found its fate +And I beheld, and those who won the wall +Pass to such issue as the gods ordain? +I too will pass and like them dare to die! + +[_Turns and looks upon the palace door._ + +Portal of Hades, thus I bid thee hail! +Grant me one boon—a swift and mortal stroke, +That all unwrung by pain, with ebbing blood +Shed forth in quiet death, I close mine eyes. + +CHORUS +Maid of mysterious woes, mysterious lore, +Long was thy prophecy: but if aright +Thou readest all thy fate, how, thus unscared, +Dost thou approach the altar of thy doom, +As fronts the knife some victim, heaven-controlled? + +CASSANDRA +Friends, there is no avoidance in delay. + +CHORUS +Yet who delays the longest, his the gain. + +CASSANDRA +The day is come—flight were small gain to me! + +CHORUS +O brave endurance of a soul resolved! + +CASSANDRA +That were ill praise, for those of happier doom. + +CHORUS +All fame is happy, even famous death. + +CASSANDRA +Ah sire, ah brethren, famous once were ye! + +[_She moves to enter the house, then starts back._ + +CHORUS +What fear is this that scares thee from the house? + +CASSANDRA +Pah! + +CHORUS +What is this cry? some dark despair of soul? + +CASSANDRA +Pah! the house fumes with stench and spilth of blood. + +CHORUS +How? ’tis the smell of household offerings. + +CASSANDRA +’Tis rank as charnel-scent from open graves. + +CHORUS +Thou canst not mean this scented Syrian nard? + +CASSANDRA +Nay, let me pass within to cry aloud +The monarch’s fate and mine—enough of life. +Ah friends! +Bear to me witness, since I fall in death, +That not as birds that shun the bush and scream +I moan in idle terror. This attest +When for my death’s revenge another dies, +A woman for a woman, and a man +Falls, for a man ill-wedded to his curse. +Grant me this boon—the last before I die. + +CHORUS +Brave to the last! I mourn thy doom foreseen. + +CASSANDRA +Once more one utterance, but not of wail, +Though for my death—and then I speak no more. + +Sun! thou whose beam I shall not see again, +To thee I cry, Let those whom vengeance calls +To slay their kindred’s slayers, quit withal +The death of me, the slave, the fenceless prey. + +Ah state of mortal man! in time of weal, +A line, a shadow! and if ill fate fall, +One wet sponge-sweep wipes all our trace away— +And this I deem less piteous, of the twain. + +[_Exit into the palace._ + +CHORUS +Too true it is! our mortal state +With bliss is never satiate, +And none, before the palace high +And stately of prosperity, +Cries to us with a voice of fear, +_Away! ’tis ill to enter here!_ + +Lo! this our lord hath trodden down, +By grace of heaven, old Priam’s town, + And praised as god he stands once more + On Argos’ shore! +Yet now—if blood shed long ago +Cries out that other blood shall flow— +His life-blood, his, to pay again +The stern requital of the slain— +Peace to that braggart’s vaunting vain, +Who, having heard the chieftain’s tale, +Yet boasts of bliss untouched by bale! + +[_A loud cry from within._ + +VOICE OF AGAMEMNON +O I am sped—a deep, a mortal blow. + +CHORUS +Listen, listen! who is screaming as in mortal agony? + +VOICE OF AGAMEMNON +O! O! again, another, another blow! + +CHORUS +The bloody act is over—I have heard the monarch’s cry— +Let us swiftly take some counsel, lest we too be doomed to die. + +ONE OF THE CHORUS +’Tis best, I judge, aloud for aid to call, +“Ho! loyal Argives! to the palace, all!” + +ANOTHER +Better, I deem, ourselves to bear the aid, +And drag the deed to light, while drips the blade. + +ANOTHER +Such will is mine, and what thou say’st I say: +Swiftly to act! the time brooks no delay. + +ANOTHER +Ay, for ’tis plain, this prelude of their song +Foretells its close in tyranny and wrong. + +ANOTHER +Behold, we tarry—but thy name, Delay, +They spurn, and press with sleepless hand to slay. + +ANOTHER +I know not what ’twere well to counsel now— +Who wills to act, ’tis his to counsel how. + +ANOTHER +Thy doubt is mine: for when a man is slain, +I have no words to bring his life again. + +ANOTHER +What? e’en for life’s sake, bow us to obey +These house-defilers and their tyrant sway? + +ANOTHER +Unmanly doom! ’twere better far to die— +Death is a gentler lord than tyranny. + +ANOTHER +Think well—must cry or sign of woe or pain +Fix our conclusion that the chief is slain? + +ANOTHER +Such talk befits us when the deed we see— +Conjecture dwells afar from certainty. + +LEADER OF THE CHORUS +I read one will from many a diverse word, +To know aright, how stands it with our lord! + +[_The scene opens, disclosing Clytemnestra, who comes forward. The body +of Agamemnon lies, muffled in a long robe, within a silver-sided laver; +the corpse of Cassandra is laid beside him._ + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Ho, ye who heard me speak so long and oft +The glozing word that led me to my will— +Hear how I shrink not to unsay it all! +How else should one who willeth to requite +Evil for evil to an enemy +Disguised as friend, weave the mesh straitly round him, +Not to be overleaped, a net of doom? +This is the sum and issue of old strife, +Of me deep-pondered and at length fulfilled. +All is avowed, and as I smote I stand +With foot set firm upon a finished thing! +I turn not to denial: thus I wrought +So that he could nor flee nor ward his doom, +Even as the trammel hems the scaly shoal, +I trapped him with inextricable toils, +The ill abundance of a baffling robe; +Then smote him, once, again—and at each wound +He cried aloud, then as in death relaxed +Each limb and sank to earth; and as he lay, +Once more I smote him, with the last third blow, +Sacred to Hades, saviour of the dead. +And thus he fell, and as he passed away, +Spirit with body chafed; each dying breath +Flung from his breast swift bubbling jets of gore, +And the dark sprinklings of the rain of blood +Fell upon me; and I was fain to feel +That dew—not sweeter is the rain of heaven +To cornland, when the green sheath teems with grain, + +Elders of Argos—since the thing stands so, +I bid you to rejoice, if such your will: +Rejoice or not, I vaunt and praise the deed, +And well I ween, if seemly it could be, +’Twere not ill done to pour libations here, +Justly—ay, more than justly—on his corpse +Who filled his home with curses as with wine, +And thus returned to drain the cup he filled. + +CHORUS +I marvel at thy tongue’s audacity, +To vaunt thus loudly o’er a husband slain. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Ye hold me as a woman, weak of will, +And strive to sway me: but my heart is stout, +Nor fears to speak its uttermost to you, +Albeit ye know its message. Praise or blame, +Even as ye list,—I reck not of your words. +Lo! at my feet lies Agamemnon slain, +My husband once—and him this hand of mine, +A right contriver, fashioned for his death. +Behold the deed! + +CHORUS + Woman, what deadly birth, +What venomed essence of the earth +Or dark distilment of the wave, + To thee such passion gave, +Nerving thine hand +To set upon thy brow this burning crown, + The curses of thy land? +_Our king by thee cut off, hewn down! + Go forth_—they cry—_accursèd and forlorn, + To hate and scorn!_ + +CLYTEMNESTRA +O ye just men, who speak my sentence now, +The city’s hate, the ban of all my realm! +Ye had no voice of old to launch such doom +On him, my husband, when he held as light +My daughter’s life as that of sheep or goat, +One victim from the thronging fleecy fold! +Yea, slew in sacrifice his child and mine, +The well-loved issue of my travail-pangs, +To lull and lay the gales that blew from Thrace. +That deed of his, I say, that stain and shame, +Had rightly been atoned by banishment; +But ye, who then were dumb, are stern to judge +This deed of mine that doth affront your ears. +Storm out your threats, yet knowing this for sooth, +That I am ready, if your hand prevail +As mine now doth, to bow beneath your sway: +If God say nay, it shall be yours to learn +By chastisement a late humility. + +CHORUS +Bold is thy craft, and proud +Thy confidence, thy vaunting loud; +Thy soul, that chose a murd’ress’ fate, +Is all with blood elate— +Maddened to know +The blood not yet avenged, the damnèd spot +Crimson upon thy brow. +But Fate prepares for thee thy lot— +Smitten as thou didst smite, without a friend, +To meet thine end! + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Hear then the sanction of the oath I swear— +By the great vengeance for my murdered child, +By Atè, by the Fury unto whom +This man lies sacrificed by hand of mine, +I do not look to tread the hall of Fear, +While in this hearth and home of mine there burns +The light of love—Aegisthus—as of old +Loyal, a stalwart shield of confidence— +As true to me as this slain man was false, +Wronging his wife with paramours at Troy, +Fresh from the kiss of each Chryseis there! +Behold him dead—behold his captive prize, +Seeress and harlot—comfort of his bed, +True prophetess, true paramour—I wot +The sea-bench was not closer to the flesh, +Full oft, of every rower, than was she. +See, ill they did, and ill requites them now. +His death ye know: she as a dying swan +Sang her last dirge, and lies, as erst she lay, +Close to his side, and to my couch has left +A sweet new taste of joys that know no fear. + +CHORUS +Ah woe and well-a-day! I would that Fate— +Not bearing agony too great, +Nor stretching me too long on couch of pain— +Would bid mine eyelids keep +The morningless and unawakening sleep! +For life is weary, now my lord is slain, +The gracious among kings! +Hard fate of old he bore and many grievous things, +And for a woman’s sake, on Ilian land— +Now is his life hewn down, and by a woman’s hand. + O Helen, O infatuate soul, + Who bad’st the tides of battle roll, + O’erwhelming thousands, life on life, + ’Neath Ilion’s wall! +And now lies dead the lord of all. + The blossom of thy storied sin + Bears blood’s inexpiable stain, + O thou that erst, these halls within, + Wert unto all a rock of strife, + A husband’s bane! + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Peace! pray not thou for death as though +Thine heart was whelmed beneath this woe, +Nor turn thy wrath aside to ban +The name of Helen, nor recall +How she, one bane of many a man, +Sent down to death the Danaan lords, +To sleep at Troy the sleep of swords, +And wrought the woe that shattered all. + +CHORUS +Fiend of the race! that swoopest fell + Upon the double stock of Tantalus, +Lording it o’er me by a woman’s will, + Stern, manful, and imperious— + A bitter sway to me! + Thy very form I see, + Like some grim raven, perched upon the slain, +Exulting o’er the crime, aloud, in tuneless strain! + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Right was that word—thou namest well +The brooding race-fiend, triply fell! +From him it is that murder’s thirst, +Blood-lapping, inwardly is nursed— +Ere time the ancient scar can sain, +New blood comes welling forth again. + +CHORUS +Grim is his wrath and heavy on our home, + That fiend of whom thy voice has cried, +Alas, an omened cry of woe unsatisfied, + An all-devouring doom! + +Ah woe, ah Zeus! from Zeus all things befall— + Zeus the high cause and finisher of all!— +Lord of our mortal state, by him are willed + All things, by him fulfilled! + +Yet ah my king, my king no more! +What words to say, what tears to pour + Can tell my love for thee? +The spider-web of treachery +She wove and wound, thy life around, + And lo! I see thee lie, +And thro’ a coward, impious wound + Pant forth thy life and die! +A death of shame—ah woe on woe! +A treach’rous hand, a cleaving blow! + +CLYTEMNESTRA +My guilt thou harpest, o’er and o’er! +I bid thee reckon me no more + As Agamemnon’s spouse. +The old Avenger, stern of mood +For Atreus and his feast of blood, + Hath struck the lord of Atreus’ house, +And in the semblance of his wife + The king hath slain.— +Yea, for the murdered children’s life, + A chieftain’s in requital ta’en. + +CHORUS +Thou guiltless of this murder, thou! + Who dares such thought avow? + Yet it may be, wroth for the parent’s deed, + The fiend hath holpen thee to slay the son. + Dark Ares, god of death, is pressing on + Thro’ streams of blood by kindred shed, + Exacting the accompt for children dead, +For clotted blood, for flesh on which their sire did feed. + + Yet ah my king, my king no more! + What words to say, what tears to pour + Can tell my love for thee? + The spider-web of treachery + She wove and wound, thy life around, + And lo! I see thee lie, + And thro’ a coward, impious wound + Pant forth thy life and die! + A death of shame—ah woe on woe! + A treach’rous hand, a cleaving blow! + +CLYTEMNESTRA + I deem not that the death he died + Had overmuch of shame: + For this was he who did provide + Foul wrong unto his house and name: + His daughter, blossom of my womb, + He gave unto a deadly doom, + Iphigenia, child of tears! + And as he wrought, even so he fares. + Nor be his vaunt too loud in hell; + For by the sword his sin he wrought, + And by the sword himself is brought + Among the dead to dwell. + +CHORUS + Ah whither shall I fly? +For all in ruin sinks the kingly hall; +Nor swift device nor shift of thought have I, + To ’scape its fall. +A little while the gentler rain-drops fail; +I stand distraught—a ghastly interval, + Till on the roof-tree rings the bursting hail + Of blood and doom. Even now fate whets the steel + On whetstones new and deadlier than of old, + The steel that smites, in Justice’ hold, + Another death to deal. + O Earth! that I had lain at rest + And lapped for ever in thy breast, + Ere I had seen my chieftain fall + Within the laver’s silver wall, + Low-lying on dishonoured bier! + And who shall give him sepulchre, + And who the wail of sorrow pour? + Woman, ’tis thine no more! + A graceless gift unto his shade + Such tribute, by his murd’ress paid! + Strive not thus wrongly to atone + The impious deed thy hand hath done. + Ah who above the god-like chief + Shall weep the tears of loyal grief? + Who speak above his lowly grave + The last sad praises of the brave? + +CLYTEMNESTRA + Peace! for such task is none of thine. + By me he fell, by me he died, + And now his burial rites be mine! + Yet from these halls no mourners’ train + Shall celebrate his obsequies; + Only by Acheron’s rolling tide + His child shall spring unto his side, + And in a daughter’s loving wise + Shall clasp and kiss him once again! + +CHORUS +Lo! sin by sin and sorrow dogg’d by sorrow— + And who the end can know? +The slayer of to-day shall die to-morrow— + The wage of wrong is woe. +While Time shall be, while Zeus in heaven is lord, + His law is fixed and stern; +On him that wrought shall vengeance be outpoured— + The tides of doom return. +The children of the curse abide within + These halls of high estate— +And none can wrench from off the home of sin + The clinging grasp of fate. + +CLYTEMNESTRA + Now walks thy word aright, to tell + This ancient truth of oracle; + But I with vows of sooth will pray + To him, the power that holdeth sway + O’er all the race of Pleisthenes— + _Tho’ dark the deed and deep the guilt, + With this last blood, my hands have spilt, + I pray thee let thine anger cease! + I pray thee pass from us away + To some new race in other lands, + There, if thou wilt, to wrong and slay + The lives of men by kindred hands._ + + For me ’tis all sufficient meed, + Tho’ little wealth or power were won, + So I can say, _’Tis past and done. + The bloody lust and murderous, + The inborn frenzy of our house, + Is ended, by my deed!_ + +[_Enter Aegisthus._ + +AEGISTHUS +Dawn of the day of rightful vengeance, hail! +I dare at length aver that gods above +Have care of men and heed of earthly wrongs. +I, I who stand and thus exult to see +This man lie wound in robes the Furies wove, +Slain in requital of his father’s craft. +Take ye the truth, that Atreus, this man’s sire, +The lord and monarch of this land of old, +Held with my sire Thyestes deep dispute, +Brother with brother, for the prize of sway, +And drave him from his home to banishment. +Thereafter, the lorn exile homeward stole +And clung a suppliant to the hearth divine, +And for himself won this immunity— +Not with his own blood to defile the land +That gave him birth. But Atreus, godless sire +Of him who here lies dead, this welcome planned— +With zeal that was not love he feigned to hold +In loyal joy a day of festal cheer, +And bade my father to his board, and set +Before him flesh that was his children once. +First, sitting at the upper board alone, +He hid the fingers and the feet, but gave +The rest—and readily Thyestes took +What to his ignorance no semblance wore +Of human flesh, and ate: behold what curse +That eating brought upon our race and name! +For when he knew what all unhallowed thing +He thus had wrought, with horror’s bitter cry +Back-starting, spewing forth the fragments foul, +On Pelops’ house a deadly curse he spake— +_As darkly as I spurn this damnèd food, +So perish all the race of Pleisthenes!_ +Thus by that curse fell he whom here ye see, +And I—who else?—this murder wove and planned; +For me, an infant yet in swaddling bands, +Of the three children youngest, Atreus sent +To banishment by my sad father’s side: +But Justice brought me home once more, grown now +To manhood’s years; and stranger tho’ I was, +My right hand reached unto the chieftain’s life, +Plotting and planning all that malice bade. +And death itself were honour now to me, +Beholding him in Justice’ ambush ta’en. + +CHORUS +Aegisthus, for this insolence of thine +That vaunts itself in evil, take my scorn. +Of thine own will, thou sayest, thou hast slain +The chieftain, by thine own unaided plot +Devised the piteous death: I rede thee well, +Think not thy head shall ’scape, when right prevails, +The people’s ban, the stones of death and doom. + +AEGISTHUS +This word from thee, this word from one who rows +Low at the oars beneath, what time we rule, +We of the upper tier? Thou’lt know anon, +’Tis bitter to be taught again in age, +By one so young, submission at the word. +But iron of the chain and hunger’s throes +Can minister unto an o’erswoln pride +Marvellous well, ay, even in the old. +Hast eyes, and seest not this? Peace—kick not thus +Against the pricks, unto thy proper pain! + +CHORUS +Thou womanish man, waiting till war did cease, +Home-watcher and defiler of the couch, +And arch-deviser of the chieftain’s doom! + +AEGISTHUS +Bold words again! but they shall end in tears. +The very converse, thine, of Orpheus’ tongue: +He roused and led in ecstasy of joy +All things that heard his voice melodious; +But thou as with the futile cry of curs +Wilt draw men wrathfully upon thee. Peace! +Or strong subjection soon shall tame thy tongue. + +CHORUS +Ay, thou art one to hold an Argive down— +Thou, skilled to plan the murder of the king, +But not with thine own hand to smite the blow! + +AEGISTHUS +That fraudful force was woman’s very part, +Not mine, whom deep suspicion from of old +Would have debarred. Now by his treasure’s aid +My purpose holds to rule the citizens. +But whoso will not bear my guiding hand, +Him for his corn-fed mettle I will drive +Not as a trace-horse, light-caparisoned, +But to the shafts with heaviest harness bound. +Famine, the grim mate of the dungeon dark, +Shall look on him and shall behold him tame. + +CHORUS +Thou losel soul, was then thy strength too slight +To deal in murder, while a woman’s hand, +Staining and shaming Argos and its gods, +Availed to slay him? Ho, if anywhere +The light of life smite on Orestes’ eyes, +Let him, returning by some guardian fate, +Hew down with force her paramour and her! + +AEGISTHUS +How thy word and act shall issue, thou shalt shortly understand. + +CHORUS +Up to action, O my comrades! for the fight is hard at hand. Swift, your +right hands to the sword hilt! bare the weapon as for strife— + +AEGISTHUS +Lo! I too am standing ready, hand on hilt for death or life. + +CHORUS +’Twas thy word and we accept it: onward to the chance of war! + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Nay, enough, enough, my champion! we will smite and slay no more. +Already have we reaped enough the harvest-field of guilt: +Enough of wrong and murder, let no other blood be spilt. +Peace, old men! and pass away unto the homes by Fate decreed, +Lest ill valour meet our vengeance—’twas a necessary deed. +But enough of toils and troubles—be the end, if ever, now, +Ere thy talon, O Avenger, deal another deadly blow. +’Tis a woman’s word of warning, and let who will list thereto. + +AEGISTHUS +But that these should loose and lavish reckless blossoms of the tongue, +And in hazard of their fortune cast upon me words of wrong, + + And forget the law of subjects, and revile their ruler’s word— + +CHORUS + Ruler? but ’tis not for Argives, thus to own a dastard lord! + +AEGISTHUS +I will follow to chastise thee in my coming days of sway. + +CHORUS +Not if Fortune guide Orestes safely on his homeward way. + +AEGISTHUS +Ah, well I know how exiles feed on hopes of their return. + +CHORUS +Fare and batten on pollution of the right, while ’tis thy turn. + +AEGISTHUS +Thou shalt pay, be well assurèd, heavy quittance for thy pride + +CHORUS +Crow and strut, with her to watch thee, like a cock, his mate beside! + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Heed not thou too highly of them—let the cur-pack growl and yell: +I and thou will rule the palace and will order all things well. + +[_Exeunt_. + + +THE LIBATION-BEARERS + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +ORESTES +CHORUS OF CAPTIVE WOMEN +ELECTRA +A NURSE +CLYTEMNESTRA +AEGISTHUS +AN ATTENDANT +PYLADES + +_The Scene is the Tomb of Agamemnon at Mycenae; afterwards, the Palace +of Atreus, hard by the Tomb._ + +_Orestes_ + +L ord of the shades and patron of the realm +That erst my father swayed, list now my prayer, +Hermes, and save me with thine aiding arm, +Me who from banishment returning stand +On this my country; lo, my foot is set +On this grave-mound, and herald-like, as thou, +Once and again, I bid my father hear. +And these twin locks, from mine head shorn, I bring, +And one to Inachus the river-god, +My young life’s nurturer, I dedicate, +And one in sign of mourning unfulfilled +I lay, though late, on this my father’s grave. +For O my father, not beside thy corse +Stood I to wail thy death, nor was my hand +Stretched out to bear thee forth to burial. + +What sight is yonder? what this woman-throng +Hitherward coming, by their sable garb +Made manifest as mourners? What hath chanced? +Doth some new sorrow hap within the home? +Or rightly may I deem that they draw near +Bearing libations, such as soothe the ire +Of dead men angered, to my father’s grave? +Nay, such they are indeed; for I descry +Electra mine own sister pacing hither, +In moody grief conspicuous. Grant, O Zeus, +Grant me my father’s murder to avenge— +Be thou my willing champion! + Pylades, +Pass we aside, till rightly I discern +Wherefore these women throng in suppliance. + +[_Exeunt Pylades and Orestes; enter the Chorus bearing vessels for +libation; Electra follows them; they pace slowly towards the tomb of +Agamemnon_. + +CHORUS +Forth from the royal halls by high command + I bear libations for the dead. +Rings on my smitten breast my smiting hand, + And all my cheek is rent and red, +Fresh-furrowed by my nails, and all my soul +This many a day doth feed on cries of dole. + And trailing tatters of my vest, +In looped and windowed raggedness forlorn, + Hang rent around my breast, +Even as I, by blows of Fate most stern + Saddened and torn. + + Oracular thro’ visions, ghastly clear, +Bearing a blast of wrath from realms below, +And stiffening each rising hair with dread, + Came out of dream-land Fear, + And, loud and awful, bade +The shriek ring out at midnight’s witching hour, + And brooded, stern with woe, +Above the inner house, the woman’s bower. +And seers inspired did read the dream on oath, + Chanting aloud _In realms below + The dead are wroth; +Against their slayers yet their ire doth glow_. + +Therefore to bear this gift of graceless worth— + O Earth, my nursing mother!— +The woman god-accurs’d doth send me forth + Lest one crime bring another. +Ill is the very word to speak, for none + Can ransom or atone +For blood once shed and darkening the plain. + O hearth of woe and bane, + O state that low doth lie! +Sunless, accursed of men, the shadows brood + Above the home of murdered majesty. + +Rumour of might, unquestioned, unsubdued, +Pervading ears and soul of lesser men, + Is silent now and dead. + Yet rules a viler dread; + For bliss and power, however won, +As gods, and more than gods, dazzle our mortal ken. + +Justice doth mark, with scales that swiftly sway, + Some that are yet in light; + Others in interspace of day and night, + Till Fate arouse them, stay; +And some are lapped in night, where all things are undone. + +On the life-giving lap of Earth + Blood hath flowed forth; +And now, the seed of vengeance, clots the plain— + Unmelting, uneffaced the stain. +And Atè tarries long, but at the last + The sinner’s heart is cast +Into pervading, waxing pangs of pain. + + Lo, when man’s force doth ope +The virgin doors, there is nor cure nor hope + For what is lost,—even so, I deem, +Though in one channel ran Earth’s every stream, + Laving the hand defiled from murder’s stain, + It were vain. + +And upon me—ah me!—the gods have laid + The woe that wrapped round Troy, +What time they led down from home and kin + Unto a slave’s employ— + The doom to bow the head + And watch our master’s will + Work deeds of good and ill— +To see the headlong sway of force and sin, + And hold restrained the spirit’s bitter hate, + Wailing the monarch’s fruitless fate, +Hiding my face within my robe, and fain +Of tears, and chilled with frost of hidden pain. + +ELECTRA +Hand maidens, orderers of the palace-halls, +Since at my side ye come, a suppliant train, +Companions of this offering, counsel me +As best befits the time: for I, who pour +Upon the grave these streams funereal, +With what fair word can I invoke my sire? +Shall I aver, _Behold, I bear these gifts +From well-beloved wife unto her well-beloved lord_, +When ’tis from her, my mother, that they come? +I dare not say it: of all words I fail +Wherewith to consecrate unto my sire +These sacrificial honours on his grave. +Or shall I speak this word, as mortals use— +_Give back, to those who send these coronals +Full recompense—of ills for acts malign? +Or shall I pour this draught for Earth to drink_, +Sans word or reverence, as my sire was slain, +And homeward pass with unreverted eyes, +Casting the bowl away, as one who flings +The household cleansings to the common road? +Be art and part, O friends, in this my doubt, +Even as ye are in that one common hate +Whereby we live attended: fear ye not +The wrath of any man, nor hide your word +Within your breast: the day of death and doom +Awaits alike the freeman and the slave. +Speak, then, if aught thou know’st to aid us more. + +CHORUS +Thou biddest; I will speak my soul’s thought out, +Revering as a shrine thy father’s grave. + +ELECTRA +Say then thy say, as thou his tomb reverest. + +CHORUS +Speak solemn words to them that love, and pour. + +ELECTRA +And of his kin whom dare I name as kind? + +CHORUS +Thyself; and next, whoe’er Aegisthus scorns. + +ELECTRA +Then ’tis myself and thou, my prayer must name. + +CHORUS +Whoe’er they be, ’tis thine to know and name them. + +ELECTRA +Is there no other we may claim as ours? + +CHORUS +Think of Orestes, though far-off he be. + +ELECTRA +Right well in this too hast thou schooled my thought. + +CHORUS +Mindfully, next, on those who shed the blood— + +ELECTRA +Pray on them what? expound, instruct my doubt. + +CHORUS +This; _Upon them some god or mortal come_—— + +ELECTRA +As judge or as avenger? speak thy thought. + +CHORUS +Pray in set terms, _Who shall the slayer slay_. + +ELECTRA +Beseemeth it to ask such boon of heaven? + +CHORUS +How not, to wreak a wrong upon a foe? + +ELECTRA +O mighty Hermes, warder of the shades, +Herald of upper and of under world, +Proclaim and usher down my prayer’s appeal +Unto the gods below, that they with eyes +Watchful behold these halls, my sire’s of old— +And unto Earth, the mother of all things, +And foster-nurse, and womb that takes their seed. + +Lo, I that pour these draughts for men now dead, +Call on my father, who yet holds in ruth +Me and mine own Orestes, _Father, speak— +How shall thy children rule thine halls again? +Homeless we are and sold; and she who sold +Is she who bore us; and the price she took +Is he who joined with her to work thy death_, +_Aegisthus, her new lord. Behold me here +Brought down to slave’s estate, and far away +Wanders Orestes, banished from the wealth +That once was thine, the profit of thy care, +Whereon these revel in a shameful joy. +Father, my prayer is said; ’tis thine to hear— +Grant that some fair fate bring Orestes home, +And unto me grant these—a purer soul +Than is my mother’s, a more stainless hand._ + +These be my prayers for us; for thee, O sire, +I cry that one may come to smite thy foes, +And that the slayers may in turn be slain. +Cursed is their prayer, and thus I bar its path, +Praying mine own, a counter-curse on them. +And thou, send up to us the righteous boon +For which we pray: thine aids be heaven and earth, +And justice guide the right to victory, + +[_To the Chorus._ + +Thus have I prayed, and thus I shed these streams, +And follow ye the wont, and as with flowers +Crown ye with many a tear and cry the dirge, +Your lips ring out above the dead man’s grave. + +[_She pours the libations_. + +CHORUS + Woe, woe, woe! +Let the teardrop fall, plashing on the ground + Where our lord lies low: +Fall and cleanse away the cursed libation’s stain, + Shed on this grave-mound, +Fenced wherein together, gifts of good or bane + From the dead are found. + Lord of Argos, hearken! +Though around thee darken + Mist of death and hell, arise and hear! +Hearken and awaken to our cry of woe! + Who with might of spear + Shall our home deliver? + Who like Ares bend until it quiver, + Bend the northern bow? +Who with hand upon the hilt himself will thrust with glaive, + Thrust and slay and save? + +ELECTRA + Lo! the earth drinks them, to my sire they pass— + Learn ye with me of this thing new and strange. + +CHORUS + Speak thou; my breast doth palpitate with fear. + +ELECTRA + I see upon the tomb a curl new shorn. + +CHORUS + Shorn from what man or what deep-girded maid? + +ELECTRA + That may he guess who will; the sign is plain. + +CHORUS + Let me learn this of thee; let youth prompt age. + +ELECTRA + None is there here but I, to clip such gift. + +CHORUS + For they who thus should mourn him hate him sore. + +ELECTRA + And lo! in truth the hair exceeding like— + +CHORUS + Like to what locks and whose? instruct me that. + +ELECTRA +Like unto those my father’s children wear. + +CHORUS +Then is this lock Orestes’ secret gift? + +ELECTRA +Most like it is unto the curls he wore, + +CHORUS +Yet how dared he to come unto his home? + +ELECTRA +He hath but sent it, clipt to mourn his sire. + +CHORUS +It is a sorrow grievous as his death, +That he should live yet never dare return. + +ELECTRA +Yea, and my heart o’erflows with gall of grief, +And I am pierced as with a cleaving dart; +Like to the first drops after drought, my tears +Fall down at will, a bitter bursting tide, +As on this lock I gaze; I cannot deem +That any Argive save Orestes’ self +Was ever lord thereof; nor, well I wot, +Hath she, the murd’ress, shorn and laid this lock +To mourn him whom she slew—my mother she, +Bearing no mother’s heart, but to her race +A loathing spirit, loathed itself of heaven! +Yet to affirm, as utterly made sure, +That this adornment cometh of the hand +Of mine Orestes, brother of my soul, +I may not venture, yet hope flatters fair! +Ah well-a-day, that this dumb hair had voice +To glad mine ears, as might a messenger, +Bidding me sway no more ’twixt fear and hope, +Clearly commanding, _Cast me hence away, +Clipped was I from some head thou lovest not;_ +Or, _I am kin to thee, and here, as thou, +I come to weep and deck our father’s grave._ +Aid me, ye gods! for well indeed ye know +How in the gale and counter-gale of doubt, +Like to the seaman’s bark, we whirl and stray. +But, if God will our life, how strong shall spring, +From seed how small, the new tree of our home!— +Lo ye, a second sign—these footsteps, look,— +Like to my own, a corresponsive print; +And look, another footmark,—this his own, +And that the foot of one who walked with him. +Mark, how the heel and tendons’ print combine, +Measured exact, with mine coincident! +Alas! for doubt and anguish rack my mind. + +ORESTES (_approaching suddenly_) +Pray thou, in gratitude for prayers fulfilled, _Fair fall the rest of +what I ask of heaven_. + +ELECTRA +Wherefore? what win I from the gods by prayer? + +ORESTES +This, that thine eyes behold thy heart’s desire. + +ELECTRA +On whom of mortals know’st thou that I call? + +ORESTES +I know thy yearning for Orestes deep. + +ELECTRA +Say then, wherein event hath crowned my prayer? + +ORESTES +I, I am he; seek not one more akin. + +ELECTRA +Some fraud, O stranger, weavest thou for me? + +ORESTES +Against myself I weave it, if I weave. + +ELECTRA +Ah, thou hast mind to mock me in my woe! + +ORESTES +’Tis at mine own I mock then, mocking thine. + +ELECTRA +Speak I with thee then as Orestes’ self? + +ORESTES +My very face thou see’st and know’st me not, +And yet but now, when thou didst see the lock +Shorn for my father’s grave, and when thy quest +Was eager on the footprints I had made, +Even I, thy brother, shaped and sized as thou, +Fluttered thy spirit, as at sight of me! +Lay now this ringlet whence ’twas shorn, and judge, +And look upon this robe, thine own hands’ work, +The shuttle-prints, the creature wrought thereon— +Refrain thyself, nor prudence lose in joy, +For well I wot, our kin are less than kind. + +ELECTRA +O thou that art unto our father’s home +Love, grief and hope, for thee the tears ran down, +For thee, the son, the saviour that should be; +Trust thou thine arm and win thy father’s halls! +O aspect sweet of fourfold love to me, +Whom upon thee the heart’s constraint bids call +As on my father, and the claim of love +From me unto my mother turns to thee, +For she is very hate; to thee too turns +What of my heart went out to her who died +A ruthless death upon the altar-stone; +And for myself I love thee—thee that wast +A brother leal, sole stay of love to me. +Now by thy side be strength and right, and Zeus +Saviour almighty, stand to aid the twain! + +ORESTES +Zeus, Zeus! look down on our estate and us, +The orphaned brood of him, our eagle-sire, +Whom to his death a fearful serpent brought +Enwinding him in coils; and we, bereft +And foodless, sink with famine, all too weak +To bear unto the eyrie, as he bore, +Such quarry as he slew. Lo! I and she, +Electra, stand before thee, fatherless, +And each alike cast out and homeless made. + +ELECTRA +And if thou leave to death the brood of him +Whose altar blazed for thee, whose reverence +Was thine, all thine,—whence, in the after years, +Shall any hand like his adorn thy shrine +With sacrifice of flesh? the eaglets slain, +Thou wouldst not have a messenger to bear +Thine omens, once so clear, to mortal men; +So, if this kingly stock be withered all, +None on high festivals will fend thy shrine +Stoop thou to raise us! strong the race shall show, +Though puny now it seem, and fallen low. + +CHORUS +O children, saviours of your father’s home, +Beware ye of your words, lest one should hear +And bear them, for the tongue hath lust to tell, +Unto our masters—whom God grant to me +In pitchy reek of fun’ral flame to see! + +ORESTES +Nay, mighty is Apollo’s oracle +And shall not fail me, whom it bade to pass +Thro’ all this peril; clear the voice rang out +With many warnings, sternly threatening +To my hot heart the wintry chill of pain, +Unless upon the slayers of my sire +I pressed for vengeance: this the god’s command— +That I, in ire for home and wealth despoiled, +Should with a craft like theirs the slayers slay: +Else with my very life I should atone +This deed undone, in many a ghastly wise +For he proclaimed unto the ears of men +That offerings, poured to angry power of death, +Exude again, unless their will be done, +As grim disease on those that poured them forth— +As leprous ulcers mounting on the flesh +And with fell fangs corroding what of old +Wore natural form; and on the brow arise +White poisoned hairs, the crown of this disease. +He spake moreover of assailing fiends +Empowered to quit on me my father’s blood, +Wreaking their wrath on me, what time in night +Beneath shut lids the spirit’s eye sees clear. +The dart that flies in darkness, sped from hell +By spirits of the murdered dead who call +Unto their kin for vengeance, formless fear, +The night-tide’s visitant, and madness’ curse +Should drive and rack me; and my tortured frame +Should be chased forth from man’s community +As with the brazen scorpions of the scourge. +For me and such as me no lustral bowl +Should stand, no spilth of wine be poured to God +For me, and wrath unseen of my dead sire +Should drive me from the shrine; no man should dare +To take me to his hearth, nor dwell with me: +Slow, friendless, cursed of all should be mine end, +And pitiless horror wind me for the grave, +This spake the god—this dare I disobey? +Yea, though I dared, the deed must yet be done; +For to that end diverse desires combine,— +The god’s behest, deep grief for him who died, +And last, the grievous blank of wealth despoiled— +All these weigh on me, urge that Argive men, +Minions of valour, who with soul of fire +Did make of fencèd Troy a ruinous heap, +Be not left slaves to two and each a woman! +For he, the man, wears woman’s heart; if not +Soon shall he know, confronted by a man. + +[_Orestes, Electra, and the Chorus gather round the tomb of Agamemnon +for the invocation which follows_. + +CHORUS + Mighty Fates, on you we call! + Bid the will of Zeus ordain + Power to those, to whom again + Justice turns with hand and aid! + Grievous was the prayer one made— + Grievous let the answer fall! + Where the mighty doom is set, + Justice claims aloud her debt + Who in blood hath dipped the steel, + Deep in blood her meed shall feel! + List an immemorial word— + _Whosoe’er shall take the sword + Shall perish by the sword._ + +ORESTES +Father, unblest in death, O father mine! + What breath of word or deed +Can I waft on thee from this far confine + Unto thy lowly bed,— +Waft upon thee, in midst of darkness lying, + Hope’s counter-gleam of fire? +Yet the loud dirge of praise brings grace undying + Unto each parted sire. + +CHORUS +O child, the spirit of the dead, +Altho’ upon his flesh have fed + The grim teeth of the flame, +Is quelled not; after many days +The sting of wrath his soul shall raise, + A vengeance to reclaim! +To the dead rings loud our cry— +Plain the living’s treachery— +Swelling, shrilling, urged on high, + The vengeful dirge, for parents slain, + Shall strive and shall attain. + +ELECTRA + Hear me too, even me, O father, hear! +Not by one child alone these groans, these tears are shed + Upon thy sepulchre. + Each, each, where thou art lowly laid, + Stands, a suppliant, homeless made: + Ah, and all is full of ill, + Comfort is there none to say! + Strive and wrestle as we may, + Still stands doom invincible. + +CHORUS + Nay, if so he will, the god + Still our tears to joy can turn + He can bid a triumph-ode + Drown the dirge beside this urn; + He to kingly halls can greet +The child restored, the homeward-guided feet. + +ORESTES +Ah my father! hadst thou lain + Under Ilion’s wall, +By some Lycian spearman slain, + Thou hadst left in this thine hall +Honour; thou hadst wrought for us +Fame and life most glorious. + Over-seas if thou had’st died, +Heavily had stood thy tomb, + Heaped on high; but, quenched in pride, +Grief were light unto thy home. + +CHORUS +Loved and honoured hadst thou lain + By the dead that nobly fell, +In the under-world again, + Where are throned the kings of hell, + Full of sway adorable +Thou hadst stood at their right hand— +Thou that wert, in mortal land, + By Fate’s ordinance and law, +King of kings who bear the crown + And the staff, to which in awe +Mortal men bow down. + +ELECTRA + Nay O father, I were fain +Other fate had fallen on thee. + Ill it were if thou hadst lain + One among the common slain, + Fallen by Scamander’s side— +Those who slew thee there should be! +Then, untouched by slavery, + We had heard as from afar +Deaths of those who should have died + ’Mid the chance of war. + +CHORUS +O child, forbear! things all too high thou sayest. + Easy, but vain, thy cry! +A boon above all gold is that thou prayest, + An unreached destiny, +As of the blessèd land that far aloof + Beyond the north wind lies; +Yet doth your double prayer ring loud reproof; + A double scourge of sighs +Awakes the dead; th’ avengers rise, though late; + Blood stains the guilty pride +Of the accursed who rule on earth, and Fate + Stands on the children’s side. + +ELECTRA +That hath sped thro’ mine ear, like a shaft from a bow! +Zeus, Zeus! it is thou who dost send from below +A doom on the desperate doer—ere long +On a mother a father shall visit his wrong. + +CHORUS +Be it mine to upraise thro’ the reek of the pyre +The chant of delight, while the funeral fire + Devoureth the corpse of a man that is slain + And a woman laid low! +For who bids me conceal it! out-rending control, +Blows ever stern blast of hate thro’ my soul, + And before me a vision of wrath and of bane + Flits and waves to and fro. + +ORESTES +Zeus, thou alone to us art parent now. + Smite with a rending blow + Upon their heads, and bid the land be well: +Set right where wrong hath stood; and thou give ear, + O Earth, unto my prayer— +Yea, hear O mother Earth, and monarchy of hell! + +CHORUS +Nay, the law is sternly set— + Blood-drops shed upon the ground +Plead for other bloodshed yet; + Loud the call of death doth sound, +Calling guilt of olden time, +A Fury, crowning crime with crime. + +ELECTRA + Where, where are ye, avenging powers, + Puissant Furies of the slain? + Behold the relics of the race + Of Atreus, thrust from pride of place! + O Zeus, what home henceforth is ours, + What refuge to attain? + +CHORUS +Lo, at your wail my heart throbs, wildly stirred; + Now am I lorn with sadness, +Darkened in all my soul, to hear your sorrow’s word. + Anon to hope, the seat of strength, I rise,— + She, thrusting grief away, lifts up mine eyes + To the new dawn of gladness. + +ORESTES + Skills it to tell of aught save wrong on wrong, + Wrought by our mother’s deed? + Though now she fawn for pardon, sternly strong + Standeth our wrath, and will nor hear nor heed; + Her children’s soul is wolfish, born from hers, + And softens not by prayers. + +CHORUS + I dealt upon my breast the blow + That Asian mourning women know; + Wails from my breast the fun’ral cry, + The Cissian weeping melody; + Stretched rendingly forth, to tatter and tear, + My clenched hands wander, here and there, + From head to breast; distraught with blows + Throb dizzily my brows. + +ELECTRA + Aweless in hate, O mother, sternly brave! + As in a foeman’s grave + Thou laid’st in earth a king, but to the bier + No citizen drew near,— +Thy husband, thine, yet for his obsequies, + Thou bad’st no wail arise! + +ORESTES +Alas the shameful burial thou dost speak! +Yet I the vengeance of his shame will wreak— + That do the gods command! + That shall achieve mine hand! +Grant me to thrust her life away, and I + Will dare to die! + +CHORUS +List thou the deed! Hewn down and foully torn, + He to the tomb was borne; +Yea, by her hand, the deed who wrought, +With like dishonour to the grave was brought, +And by her hand she strove, with strong desire, +Thy life to crush, O child, by murder of thy sire: + Bethink thee, hearing, of the shame, the pain + Wherewith that sire was slain! + +ELECTRA +Yea, such was the doom of my sire; well-a-day, + I was thrust from his side,— +As a dog from the chamber they thrust me away, +And in place of my laughter rose sobbing and tears, + As in darkness I lay. +O father, if this word can pass to thine ears, + To thy soul let it reach and abide! + +CHORUS +Let it pass, let it pierce, through the sense of thine ear, + To thy soul, where in silence it waiteth the hour! +The past is accomplished; but rouse thee to hear +What the future prepareth; awake and appear, + Our champion, in wrath and in power! + +ORESTES + O father, to thy loved ones come in aid. + +ELECTRA + With tears I call on thee. + +CHORUS + Listen and rise to light! +Be thou with us, be thou against the foe! +Swiftly this cry arises—even so + Pray we, the loyal band, as we have prayed! + +ORESTES +Let their might meet with mine, and their right with my right. + +ELECTRA + O ye Gods, it is yours to decree. + +CHORUS +Ye call unto the dead; I quake to hear. +Fate is ordained of old, and shall fulfil your prayer. + +ELECTRA +Alas, the inborn curse that haunts our home, + Of Atè’s bloodstained scourge the tuneless sound! +Alas, the deep insufferable doom, + The stanchless wound! + +ORESTES +It shall be stanched, the task is ours,— + Not by a stranger’s, but by kindred hand, +Shall be chased forth the blood-fiend of our land. + Be this our spoken spell, to call Earth’s nether powers! + +CHORUS + Lords of a dark eternity, + To you has come the children’s cry, + Send up from hell, fulfil your aid + To them who prayed. + +ORESTES +O father, murdered in unkingly wise, +Fulfil my prayer, grant me thine halls to sway. + +ELECTRA +To me too, grant this boon—dark death to deal +Unto Aegisthus, and to ’scape my doom. + +ORESTES +So shall the rightful feasts that mortals pay +Be set for thee; else, not for thee shall rise +The scented reek of altars fed with flesh, +But thou shall lie dishonoured: hear thou me! + +ELECTRA +I too, from my full heritage restored, +Will pour the lustral streams, what time I pass +Forth as a bride from these paternal halls, +And honour first, beyond all graves, thy tomb. + +ORESTES +Earth, send my sire to fend me in the fight! + +ELECTRA +Give fair-faced fortune, O Persephone! + +ORESTES +Bethink thee, father, in the laver slain— + +ELECTRA +Bethink thee of the net they handselled for thee! + +ORESTES +Bonds not of brass ensnared thee, father mine. + +ELECTRA +Yea, the ill craft of an enfolding robe. + +ORESTES +By this our bitter speech arise, O sire! + +ELECTRA +Raise thou thine head at love’s last, dearest call! + +ORESTES +Yea, speed forth Right to aid thy kinsmen’s cause; +Grip for grip, let them grasp the foe, if thou +Willest in triumph to forget thy fall. + +ELECTRA +Hear me, O father, once again hear me. +Lo! at thy tomb, two fledglings of thy brood— +A man-child and a maid; hold them in ruth, +Nor wipe them out, the last of Pelops’ line. +For while they live, thou livest from the dead; +Children are memory’s voices, and preserve +The dead from wholly dying: as a net +Is ever by the buoyant corks upheld, +Which save the flex-mesh, in the depth submerged. +Listen, this wail of ours doth rise for thee, +And as thou heedest it thyself art saved. + +CHORUS +In sooth, a blameless prayer ye spake at length— +The tomb’s requital for its dirge denied: +Now, for the rest, as thou art fixed to do, +Take fortune by the hand and work thy will. + +ORESTES +The doom is set; and yet I fain would ask— +Not swerving from the course of my resolve,— +Wherefore she sent these offerings, and why +She softens all too late her cureless deed? +An idle boon it was, to send them here +Unto the dead who recks not of such gifts. +I cannot guess her thought, but well I ween +Such gifts are skilless to atone such crime. +Be blood once spilled, an idle strife he strives +Who seeks with other wealth or wine outpoured +To atone the deed. So stands the word, nor fails. +Yet would I know her thought; speak, if thou knowest. + +CHORUS +I know it, son; for at her side I stood. +’Twas the night-wandering terror of a dream +That flung her shivering from her couch, and bade her— +Her, the accursed of God—these offerings send. + +ORESTES +Heard ye the dream, to tell it forth aright? + +CHORUS +Yea, from herself; her womb a serpent bare. + +ORESTES +What then the sum and issue of the tale? + +CHORUS +Even as a swaddled child, she lull’d the thing. + +ORESTES +What suckling craved the creature, born full-fanged? + +CHORUS +Yet in her dreams she proffered it the breast. + +ORESTES +How? did the hateful thing not bite her teat? + +CHORUS +Yea, and sucked forth a blood-gout in the milk. + +ORESTES +Not vain this dream—it bodes a man’s revenge. + +CHORUS +Then out of sleep she started with a cry, +And thro’ the palace for their mistress’ aid +Full many lamps, that erst lay blind with night, +Flared into light; then, even as mourners use, +She sends these offerings, in hope to win +A cure to cleave and sunder sin from doom. + +ORESTES +Earth and my father’s grave, to you I call— +Give this her dream fulfilment, and thro’ me. +I read it in each part coincident, +With what shall be; for mark, that serpent sprang +From the same womb as I, in swaddling bands +By the same hands was swathed, lipped the same breast, +And sucking forth the same sweet mother’s-milk +Infused a clot of blood; and in alarm +She cried upon her wound the cry of pain. +The rede is clear: the thing of dread she nursed, +The death of blood she dies; and I, ’tis I, +In semblance of a serpent, that must slay her. +Thou art my seer, and thus I read the dream. + +CHORUS +So do; yet ere thou doest, speak to us, +Siding some act, some, by not acting, aid. + +ORESTES +Brief my command: I bid my sister pass +In silence to the house, and all I bid +This my design with wariness conceal, +That they who did by craft a chieftain slay +May by like craft and in like noose be ta’en +Dying the death which Loxias foretold— +Apollo, king and prophet undisproved. +I with this warrior Pylades will come +In likeness of a stranger, full equipt +As travellers come, and at the palace gates +Will stand, as stranger yet in friendship’s bond +Unto this house allied; and each of us +Will speak the tongue that round Parnassus sounds, +Feigning such speech as Phocian voices use. +And what if none of those that tend the gates +Shall welcome us with gladness, since the house +With ills divine is haunted? if this hap, +We at the gate will bide, till, passing by, +Some townsman make conjecture and proclaim, +_How? is Aegisthus here, and knowingly +Keeps suppliants aloof, by bolt and bar?_ +Then shall I win my way; and if I cross +The threshold of the gate, the palace’ guard, +And find him throned where once my father sat— +Or if he come anon, and face to face +Confronting, drop his eyes from mine—I swear +He shall not utter, _Who art thou and whence?_ +Ere my steel leap, and compassed round with death +Low he shall lie: and thus, full-fed with doom, +The Fury of the house shall drain once more +A deep third draught of rich unmingled blood. +But thou, O sister, look that all within +Be well prepared to give these things event. +And ye—I say ’twere well to bear a tongue +Full of fair silence and of fitting speech +As each beseems the time; and last, do thou, +Hermes the warder-god, keep watch and ward, +And guide to victory my striving sword. + +[_Exit with Pylades._ + +CHORUS + Many and marvellous the things of fear + Earth’s breast doth bear; + And the sea’s lap with many monsters teems, + And windy levin-bolts and meteor gleams + Breed many deadly things— +Unknown and flying forms, with fear upon their wings, + And in their tread is death; + And rushing whirlwinds, of whose blasting breath + Man’s tongue can tell. + But who can tell aright the fiercer thing, + The aweless soul, within man’s breast inhabiting? + Who tell, how, passion-fraught and love-distraught + The woman’s eager, craving thought + Doth wed mankind to woe and ruin fell? + Yea, how the loveless love that doth possess + The woman, even as the lioness, + Doth rend and wrest apart, with eager strife, + The link of wedded life? + +Let him be the witness, whose thought is not borne on light wings thro’ +the air, +But abideth with knowledge, what thing was wrought by Althea’s despair; +For she marr’d the life-grace of her son, with ill counsel rekindled +the flame +That was quenched as it glowed on the brand, what time from his mother +he came, +With the cry of a new-born child; and the brand from the burning she +won, +For the Fates had foretold it coeval, in life and in death, with her +son. + +Yea, and man’s hate tells of another, even Scylla of murderous guile, +Who slew for an enemy’s sake her father, won o’er by the wile +And the gifts of Cretan Minos, the gauds of the high-wrought gold; +For she clipped from her father’s head the lock that should never wax +old, +As he breathed in the silence of sleep, and knew not her craft and her +crime— +But Hermes, the guard of the dead, doth grasp her, in fulness of time. + +And since of the crimes of the cruel I tell, let my singing record +The bitter wedlock and loveless, the curse on these halls outpoured, +The crafty device of a woman, whereby did a chieftain fall, +A warrior stern in his wrath; the fear of his enemies all,— +A song of dishonour, untimely! and cold is the hearth that was warm +And ruled by the cowardly spear, the woman’s unwomanly arm. + +But the summit and crown of all crimes is that which in Lemnos befell; +A woe and a mourning it is, a shame and a spitting to tell; +And he that in after time doth speak of his deadliest thought, +Doth say, _It is like to the deed that of old time in Lemnos was +wrought_; +And loathed of men were the doers, and perished, they and their seed, +For the gods brought hate upon them; none loveth the impious deed. + +It is well of these tales to tell; for the sword in the grasp of Right +With a cleaving, a piercing blow to the innermost heart doth smite, +And the deed unlawfully done is not trodden down nor forgot, +When the sinner out-steppeth the law and heedeth the high God not; +But Justice hath planted the anvil, and Destiny forgeth the sword +That shall smite in her chosen time; by her is the child restored; +And, darkly devising, the Fiend of the house, world-cursed, will repay +The price of the blood of the slain that was shed in the bygone day. + +[_Enter Orestes and Pylades, in guise of travellers_. + +ORESTES (_knocking at the palace gate_) +What ho! slave, ho! I smite the palace gate +In vain, it seems; what ho, attend within,— +Once more, attend; come forth and ope the halls, +If yet Aegisthus holds them hospitable. + +SLAVE (_from within_) +Anon, anon! +[_Opens the door._ + +Speak, from what land art thou, and sent from whom? + +ORESTES +Go, tell to them who rule the palace-halls, +Since ’tis to them I come with tidings new— +(Delay not—Night’s dark car is speeding on, +And time is now for wayfarers to cast +Anchor in haven, wheresoe’er a house +Doth welcome strangers)—that there now come forth +Some one who holds authority within— +The queen, or, if some man, more seemly were it; +For when man standeth face to face with man, +No stammering modesty confounds their speech, +But each to each doth tell his meaning clear. + +[_Enter Clytemnestra_. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Speak on, O strangers; have ye need of aught? +Here is whate’er beseems a house like this— +Warm bath and bed, tired Nature’s soft restorer, +And courteous eyes to greet you; and if aught +Of graver import needeth act as well, +That, as man’s charge, I to a man will tell. + +ORESTES +A Daulian man am I, from Phocis bound, +And as with mine own travel-scrip self-laden +I went toward Argos, parting hitherward +With travelling foot, there did encounter me +One whom I knew not and who knew not me, +But asked my purposed way nor hid his own, +And, as we talked together, told his name— +Strophius of Phocis; then he said, “Good sir, +Since in all case thou art to Argos bound, +Forget not this my message, heed it well, +Tell to his own, _Orestes is no more_. +And—whatsoe’er his kinsfolk shall resolve, +Whether to bear his dust unto his home, +Or lay him here, in death as erst in life +Exiled for aye, a child of banishment— +Bring me their hest, upon thy backward road; +For now in brazen compass of an urn +His ashes lie, their dues of weeping paid.” +So much I heard, and so much tell to thee, +Not knowing if I speak unto his kin +Who rule his home; but well, I deem, it were, +Such news should earliest reach a parent’s ear. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Ah woe is me! thy word our ruin tells; +From roof-tree unto base are we despoiled.— +O thou whom nevermore we wrestle down, +Thou Fury of this home, how oft and oft +Thou dost descry what far aloof is laid, +Yea, from afar dost bend th’ unerring bow +And rendest from my wretchedness its friends; +As now Orestes—who, a brief while since, +Safe from the mire of death stood warily,— +Was the home’s hope to cure th’ exulting wrong; +Now thou ordainest, _Let the ill abide_. + +ORESTES +To host and hostess thus with fortune blest, +Lief had I come with better news to bear +Unto your greeting and acquaintanceship; +For what goodwill lies deeper than the bond +Of guest and host? and wrong abhorred it were, +As well I deem, if I, who pledged my faith +To one, and greetings from the other had, +Bore not aright the tidings ’twixt the twain. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Whate’er thy news, thou shalt not welcome lack, +Meet and deserved, nor scant our grace shall be. +Hadst them thyself not come, such tale to tell, +Another, sure, had borne it to our ears. +But lo! the hour is here when travelling guests, +Fresh from the daylong labour of the road, +Should win their rightful due. Take him within + +[_To the slave._ + +To the man-chamber’s hospitable rest— +Him and these fellow-farers at his side; +Give them such guest-right as beseems our halls; +I bid thee do as thou shalt answer for it. +And I unto the prince who rules our home +Will tell the tale, and, since we lack not friends, +With them will counsel how this hap to bear + +[_Exit Clytemnestra._ + +CHORUS + So be it done— +Sister-servants, when draws nigh +Time for us aloud to cry +_Orestes and his victory?_ + + O holy earth and holy tomb +Over the grave-pit heaped on high, +Where low doth Agamemnon lie, + The king of ships, the army’s lord! +Now is the hour—give ear and come, + For now doth Craft her aid afford, +And Hermes, guard of shades in hell, +Stands o’er their strife, to sentinel + The dooming of the sword. +I wot the stranger worketh woe within— +For lo! I see come forth, suffused with tears, +Orestes’ nurse. What ho, Kilissa—thou +Beyond the doors? Where goest thou? Methinks +Some grief unbidden walketh at thy side. + +[_Enter Kilissa, a nurse._ + +KILISSA +My mistress bids me, with what speed I may, +Call in Aegisthus to the stranger guests, +That he may come, and standing face to face, +A man with men, may thus more clearly learn +This rumour new. Thus speaking, to her slaves +She hid beneath the glance of fictive grief +Laughter for what is wrought—to her desire +Too well; but ill, ill, ill besets the house, +Brought by the tale these guests have told so clear. +And he, God wot, will gladden all his heart +Hearing this rumour. Woe and well-a-day! +The bitter mingled cup of ancient woes, +Hard to be borne, that here in Atreus’ house +Befel, was grievous to mine inmost heart, +But never yet did I endure such pain. +All else I bore with set soul patiently; +But now—alack, alack!—Orestes dear, +The day and night-long travail of my soul! +Whom from his mother’s womb, a new-born child, +I clasped and cherished! Many a time and oft +Toilsome and profitless my service was, +When his shrill outcry called me from my couch! +For the young child, before the sense is born, +Hath but a dumb thing’s life, must needs be nursed +As its own nature bids. The swaddled thing +Hath nought of speech, whate’er discomfort come— +Hunger or thirst or lower weakling need,— +For the babe’s stomach works its own relief. +Which knowing well before, yet oft surprised, +’Twas mine to cleanse the swaddling clothes—poor I +Was nurse to tend and fuller to make white; +Two works in one, two handicrafts I took, +When in mine arms the father laid the boy. +And now he’s dead—alack and well-a-day! +Yet must I go to him whose wrongful power +Pollutes this house—fair tidings these to him! + +CHORUS + Say then, with what array she bids him come? + +KILISSA + What say’st thou! Speak more clearly for mine ear. + +CHORUS + Bids she bring henchmen, or to come alone? + +KlLISSA + She bids him bring a spear-armed body-guard. + +CHORUS + Nay, tell not that unto our loathèd lord, + But speed to him, put on the mien of joy, + Say, _Come along, fear nought, the news is good:_ + A bearer can tell straight a twisted tale. + +KILISSA + Does then thy mind in this new tale find joy? + +CHORUS + What if Zeus bid our ill wind veer to fair? + +KILISSA + And how? the home’s hope with Orestes dies. + +CHORUS + Not yet—a seer, though feeble, this might see. + +KILISSA + What say’st thou? Know’st thou aught, this tale belying? + +CHORUS + Go, tell the news to him, perform thine hest,— + What the gods will, themselves can well provide. + +KILISSA + Well, I will go, herein obeying thee; + And luck fall fair, with favour sent from heaven. + +[_Exit._ + +CHORUS +Zeus, sire of them who on Olympus dwell, + Hear thou, O hear my prayer! +Grant to my rightful lords to prosper well + Even as their zeal is fair! +For right, for right goes up aloud my cry— + Zeus, aid him, stand anigh! + + Into his father’s hall he goes + To smite his father’s foes. +Bid him prevail! by thee on throne of triumph set, +Twice, yea and thrice with joy shall he acquit the debt. + +Bethink thee, the young steed, the orphan foal + Of sire beloved by thee, unto the car + Of doom is harnessed fast. +Guide him aright, plant firm a lasting goal, +Speed thou his pace,—O that no chance may mar + The homeward course, the last! + +And ye who dwell within the inner chamber + Where shines the storèd joy of gold— +Gods of one heart, O hear ye, and remember; +Up and avenge the blood shed forth of old, + With sudden rightful blow; + Then let the old curse die, nor be renewed + With progeny of blood,— + Once more, and not again, be latter guilt laid low! + + O thou who dwell’st in Delphi’s mighty cave, + Grant us to see this home once more restored + Unto its rightful lord! + Let it look forth, from veils of death, with joyous eye + Unto the dawning light of liberty; + And Hermes, Maia’s child, lend hand to save, + Willing the right, and guide + Our state with Fortune’s breeze adown the favouring tide. + Whate’er in darkness hidden lies, + He utters at his will; +He at his will throws darkness on our eye + By night and eke by day inscrutable. + + Then, then shall wealth atone + The ills that here were done. + Then, then will we unbind, + Fling free on wafting wind +Of joy, the woman’s voice that waileth now +In piercing accents for a chief laid low; + And this our song shall be— + _Hail to the commonwealth restored! + Hail to the freedom won to me! +All hail! for doom hath passed from him, my well-loved lord!_ + +And thou, O child, when Time and Chance agree, +Up to the deed that for thy sire is done! +And if she wail unto thee, _Spare, O son_— +Cry, _Aid, O father_—and achieve the deed, +The horror of man’s tongue, the gods’ great need! +Hold in thy breast such heart as Perseus had, +The bitter woe work forth, +Appease the summons of the dead, +The wrath of friends on earth; +Yea, set within a sign of blood and doom, +And do to utter death him that pollutes thy home. + +[_Enter Aegisthus_. + +AEGISTHUS +Hither and not unsummoned have I come; +For a new rumour, borne by stranger men +Arriving hither, hath attained mine ears, +Of hap unwished-for, even Orestes’ death. +This were new sorrow, a blood-bolter’d load +Laid on the house that doth already bow +Beneath a former wound that festers deep. +Dare I opine these words have truth and life? +Or are they tales, of woman’s terror born, +That fly in the void air, and die disproved? +Canst thou tell aught, and prove it to my soul? + +CHORUS + What we have heard, we heard; go thou within + Thyself to ask the strangers of their tale. + Strengthless are tidings, thro’ another heard; + Question is his, to whom the tale is brought. + +AEGISTHUS + I too will meet and test the messenger, + Whether himself stood witness of the death, + Or tells it merely from dim rumour learnt: + None shall cheat me, whose soul hath watchful eyes. + +[_Exit._ + +CHORUS + Zeus, Zeus! what word to me is given? + What cry or prayer, invoking heaven, + Shall first by me be utterèd? + What speech of craft? nor all revealing, + Nor all too warily concealing— + Ending my speech, shall aid the deed? + For lo! in readiness is laid + The dark emprise, the rending blade; + Blood-dropping daggers shall achieve + The dateless doom of Atreus’ name, + Or—kindling torch and joyful flame + In sign of new-won liberty— + Once more Orestes shall retrieve + His father’s wealth, and, throned on high, + Shall hold the city’s fealty. + So mighty is the grasp whereby, + Heaven-holpen, he shall trip and throw, + Unseconded, a double foe + Ho for the victory! + +[_A loud cry within._ + +VOICE OF AEGISTHUS + Help, help, alas! + +CHORUS +Ho there, ho! how is’t within? +Is’t done? is’t over? Stand we here aloof +While it is wrought, that guiltless we may seem +Of this dark deed; with death is strife fulfilled. + +[_Enter a slave_ + +SLAVE +O woe, O woe, my lord is done to death! +Woe, woe, and woe again, AEgisthus gone! +Hasten, fling wide the doors, unloose the bolts +Of the queen’s chamber. O for some young strength +To match the need! but aid availeth nought +To him laid low for ever. Help, help, help! +Sure to deaf ears I shout, and call in vain +To slumber ineffectual. What ho! +The queen! how fareth Clytemnestra’s self? +Her neck too, hers, is close upon the steel, +And soon shall sink, hewn thro’ as justice wills. + +[_Enter Clytemnestra._ + +CLYTEMNESTRA +What ails thee, raising this ado for us? + +SLAVE +I say the dead are come to slay the living. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Alack, I read thy riddles all too clear— +We slew by craft and by like craft shall die. +Swift, bring the axe that slew my lord of old; +I’ll know anon or death or victory— +So stands the curse, so I confront it here. + +[_Enter Orestes, his sword dropping with blood._ + +ORESTES +Thee too I seek: for him what’s done will serve. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Woe, woe! Aegisthus, spouse and champion, slain! + +ORESTES +What lov’st the man? then in his grave lie down, +Be his in death, desert him nevermore! + +CLYTEMNESTSA +Stay, child, and fear to strike. O son, this breast +Pillowed thine head full oft, while, drowsed with sleep, +Thy toothless mouth drew mother’s milk from me. + +ORESTES +Can I my mother spare? speak, Pylades, + +PYLADES +Where then would fall the hest Apollo gave +At Delphi, where the solemn compact sworn? +Choose thou the hate of all men, not of gods. + +ORESTES +Thou dost prevail; I hold thy counsel good. + +[_To Clytemnestra_. + +Follow; I will slay thee at his side. +With him whom in his life thou lovedst more +Than Agamemnon, sleep in death, the meed +For hate where love, and love where hate was due! + +CLYTEMNESTRA +I nursed thee young; must I forego mine eld? + +ORESTES +Thou slew’st my father; shalt thou dwell with me? + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Fate bore a share in these things, O my child! + +ORESTES +Fate also doth provide this doom for thee. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Beware, O my child, a parent’s dying curse. + +ORESTES +A parent who did cast me out to ill! + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Not cast thee out, but to a friendly home. + +ORESTES +Born free, I was by twofold bargain sold. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Where then the price that I received for thee? + +ORESTES +The price of shame; I taunt thee not more plainly. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Nay, but recount thy father’s lewdness too. + +ORESTES +Home-keeping, chide not him who toils without. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +’Tis hard for wives to live as widows, child. + +ORESTES +The absent husband toils for them at home. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Thou growest fain to slay thy mother, child + +ORESTES +Nay, ’tis thyself wilt slay thyself, not I. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Beware thy mother’s vengeful hounds from hell. + +ORESTES +How shall I ’scape my father’s, sparing thee? + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Living, I cry as to a tomb, unheard. + +ORESTES +My father’s fate ordains this doom for thee. + +CLYTEMNESTRA +Ah, me! this snake it was I bore and nursed. + +ORESTES +Ay, right prophetic was thy visioned fear. +Shameful thy deed was—die the death of shame! + +[_Exit, driving Clytemnestra before him._ + +CHORUS +Lo, even for these I mourn, a double death: +Yet since Orestes, driven on by doom, +Thus crowns the height of murders manifold, +I say, ’tis well—that not in night and death +Should sink the eye and light of this our home. + +There came on Priam’s race and name + A vengeance; though it tarried long, + With heavy doom it came. +Came, too, on Agamemnon’s hall + A lion-pair, twin swordsmen strong. +And last, the heritage doth fall + To him, to whom from Pythian cave + The god his deepest counsel gave. +Cry out, rejoice! our kingly hall + Hath ’scaped from ruin—ne’er again +Its ancient wealth be wasted all + By two usurpers, sin-defiled— + An evil path of woe and bane! +On him who dealt the dastard blow + Comes Craft, Revenge’s scheming child. +And hand in hand with him doth go, + Eager for fight, +The child of Zeus, whom men below + Call Justice, naming her aright. + And on her foes her breath + Is as the blast of death; +For her the god who dwells in deep recess + Beneath Parnassus’ brow, + Summons with loud acclaim + To rise, though late and lame, +And come with craft that worketh righteousness. + +For even o’er Powers divine this law is strong— + _Thou shalt not serve the wrong_. +To that which ruleth heaven beseems it that we bow. + Lo, freedom’s light hath come! + Lo, now is rent away +The grim and curbing bit that held us dumb. + Up to the light, ye halls! this many a day + Too low on earth ye lay. + And Time, the great Accomplisher, + Shall cross the threshold, whensoe’er + He choose with purging hand to cleanse + The palace, driving all pollution thence. + And fair the cast of Fortune’s die + Before our state’s new lords shall lie, + Not as of old, but bringing fairer doom + Lo, freedom’s light hath come! + +[_The scene opens, disclosing Orestes standing over the corpses of +Aegisthus and Clytemnestra; in one hand he holds his sword, in the +other the robe in which Agamemnon was entangled and slain_. + +ORESTES +There lies our country’s twofold tyranny, +My father’s slayers, spoilers of my home. +Erst were they royal, sitting on the throne, +And loving are they yet,—their common fate +Tells the tale truly, shows their trothplight firm. +They swore to work mine ill-starred father’s death, +They swore to die together; ’tis fulfilled. +O ye who stand, this great doom’s witnesses, +Behold this too, the dark device which bound +My sire unhappy to his death,—behold +The mesh which trapped his hands, enwound his feet! +Stand round, unfold it—’tis the trammel-net +That wrapped a chieftain; holds it that he see, +The father—not my sire, but he whose eye +Is judge of all things, the all-seeing Sun! +Let him behold my mother’s damnèd deed, +Then let him stand, when need shall be to me, +Witness that justly I have sought and slain +My mother; blameless was Aegisthus’ doom— +He died the death law bids adulterers die. +But she who plotted this accursèd thing +To slay her lord, by whom she bare beneath +Her girdle once the burden of her babes, +Beloved erewhile, now turned to hateful foes— +What deem ye of her? or what venomed thing, +Sea-snake or adder, had more power than she +To poison with a touch the flesh unscarred? +So great her daring, such her impious will. +How name her, if I may not speak a curse? +A lion-springe! a laver’s swathing cloth, +Wrapping a dead man, twining round his feet— +A net, a trammel, an entangling robe? +Such were the weapon of some strangling thief, +The terror of the road, a cut-purse hound— +With such device full many might he kill, +Full oft exult in heat of villainy. +Ne’er have my house so cursed an indweller— +Heaven send me, rather, childless to be slain! + +CHORUS +Woe for each desperate deed! +Woe for the queen, with shame of life bereft! +And ah, for him who still is left, +Madness, dark blossom of a bloody seed! + +ORESTES +Did she the deed or not? this robe gives proof, +Imbrued with blood that bathed Aegisthus’ sword: +Look, how the spurted stain combines with time +To blur the many dyes that once adorned +Its pattern manifold! I now stand here, +Made glad, made sad with blood, exulting, wailing— +Hear, O thou woven web that slew my sire! +I grieve for deed and death and all my home— +Victor, pollution’s damnèd stain for prize. + +CHORUS +Alas, that none of mortal men +Can pass his life untouched by pain! +Behold, one woe is here— +Another loometh near. + +ORESTES +Hark ye and learn—for what the end shall be +For me I know not: breaking from the curb +My spirit whirls me off, a conquered prey, +Borne as a charioteer by steeds distraught +Far from the course, and madness in my breast +Burneth to chant its song, and leap, and rave— +Hark ye and learn, friends, ere my reason goes! +I say that rightfully I slew my mother, +A thing God-scorned, that foully slew my sire +And chiefest wizard of the spell that bound me +Unto this deed I name the Pythian seer +Apollo, who foretold that if I slew, +The guilt of murder done should pass from me; +But if I spared, the fate that should be mine +I dare not blazon forth—the bow of speech +Can reach not to the mark, that doom to tell. +And now behold me, how with branch and crown +I pass, a suppliant made meet to go +Unto Earth’s midmost shrine, the holy ground +Of Loxias, and that renownèd light +Of ever-burning fire, to ’scape the doom +Of kindred murder: to no other shrine +(So Loxias bade) may I for refuge turn. +Bear witness, Argives, in the after time, +How came on me this dread fatality. +Living, I pass a banished wanderer hence, +To leave in death the memory of this cry. + +CHORUS +Nay, but the deed is well; link not thy lips +To speech ill-starred, nor vent ill-boding words— +Who hast to Argos her full freedom given, +Lopping two serpents’ heads with timely blow. + +ORESTES +Look, look, alas! +Handmaidens, see—what Gorgon shapes throng up; +Dusky their robes and all their hair enwound— +Snakes coiled with snakes—off, off, I must away! + +CHORUS +Most loyal of all sons unto thy sire, +What visions thus distract thee? Hold, abide; +Great was thy victory, and shalt thou fear? + +ORESTES +These are no dreams, void shapes of haunting ill, +But clear to sight my mother’s hell-hounds come! + +CHORUS +Nay, the fresh bloodshed still imbrues thine hands, +And thence distraction sinks into thy soul. + +ORESTES +O king Apollo—see, they swarm and throng— +Black blood of hatred dripping from their eyes! + +CHORUS +One remedy thou hast; go, touch the shrine +Of Loxias, and rid thee of these woes. + +ORESTES +Ye can behold them not, but I behold them. +Up and away! I dare abide no more. + +[_Exit_ + +CHORUS +Farewell then as thou mayst,—the god thy friend +Guard thee and aid with chances favouring. + +Behold, the storm of woe divine +That the raves and beats on Atreus’ line + Its great third blast hath blown. +First was Thyestes’ loathly woe— +The rueful feast of long ago, + On children’s flesh, unknown. +And next the kingly chief’s despite, +When he who led the Greeks to fight + Was in the bath hewn down. +And now the offspring of the race +Stands in the third, the saviour’s place, + To save—or to consume? +O whither, ere it be fulfilled, +Ere its fierce blast be hushed and stilled, + Shall blow the wind of doom? + +[_Exeunt_. + + +THE FURIES + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS +APOLLO +ORESTES +THE GHOST OF CLYTEMNESTRA +CHORUS OF FURIES +ATHENA +ATTENDANTS OF ATHENA +TWELVE ATHENIAN CITIZENS + +_The Scene of the Drama is the Temple of Apollo, at Delphi: afterwards +the Temple of Athena, on the Acropolis of Athens, and the adjoining +Areopagus._ + +_The Temple at Delphi_ + +_The Pythian Priestess_ + +F irst, in this prayer, of all the gods I name +The prophet-mother Earth; and Themis next, +Second who sat—for so with truth is said— +On this her mother’s shrine oracular. +Then by her grace, who unconstrained allowed, +There sat thereon another child of Earth— +Titanian Phoebe. She, in after time, +Gave o’er the throne, as birthgift to a god, +Phoebus, who in his own bears Phoebe’s name. +He from the lake and ridge of Delos’ isle +Steered to the port of Pallas’ Attic shores, +The home of ships; and thence he passed and came +Unto this land and to Parnassus’ shrine. +And at his side, with awe revering him, +There went the children of Hephaestus’ seed, +The hewers of the sacred way, who tame +The stubborn tract that erst was wilderness. +And all this folk, and Delphos, chieftain-king +Of this their land, with honour gave him home; +And in his breast Zeus set a prophet’s soul, +And gave to him this throne, whereon he sits, +Fourth prophet of the shrine, and, Loxias hight, +Gives voice to that which Zeus his sire decrees. + +Such gods I name in my preluding prayer, +And after them, I call with honour due +On Pallas, wardress of the fane, and Nymphs +Who dwell around the rock Corycian, +Where in the hollow cave, the wild birds’ haunt, +Wander the feet of lesser gods; and there, +Right well I know it, Bromian Bacchus dwells, +Since he in godship led his Maenad host, +Devising death for Pentheus, whom they rent +Piecemeal, as hare among the hounds. And last, +I call on Pleistus’ springs, Poseidon’s might, +And Zeus most high, the great Accomplisher. +Then as a seeress to the sacred chair +I pass and sit; and may the powers divine +Make this mine entrance fruitful in response +Beyond each former advent, triply blest. +And if there stand without, from Hellas bound, +Men seeking oracles, let each pass in +In order of the lot, as use allows; +For the god guides whate’er my tongue proclaims. + +[_She goes into the interior of the temple; after a short interval, she +returns in great fear_. + +Things fell to speak of, fell for eyes to see, +Have sped me forth again from Loxias’ shrine, +With strength unstrung, moving erect no more, +But aiding with my hands my failing feet, +Unnerved by fear. A beldame’s force is naught— +Is as a child’s, when age and fear combine. +For as I pace towards the inmost fane +Bay-filleted by many a suppliant’s hand, +Lo, at the central altar I descry +One crouching as for refuge—yea, a man +Abhorredd of heaven; and from his hands, wherein +A sword new-drawn he holds, blood reeked and fell: +A wand he bears, the olive’s topmost bough, +Twined as of purpose with a deep close tuft +Of whitest wool. This, that I plainly saw, +Plainly I tell. But lo, in front of him, +Crouched on the altar-steps, a grisly band +Of women slumbers—not like women they, +But Gorgons rather; nay, that word is weak, +Nor may I match the Gorgons’ shape with theirs! +Such have I seen in painted semblance erst— +Winged Harpies, snatching food from Phineus’ board,— +But these are wingless, black, and all their shape +The eye’s abomination to behold. +Fell is the breath—let none draw nigh to it— +Wherewith they snort in slumber; from their eyes +Exude the damnèd drops of poisonous ire: +And such their garb as none should dare to bring +To statues of the gods or homes of men. +I wot not of the tribe wherefrom can come +So fell a legion, nor in what land Earth +Could rear, unharmed, such creatures, nor avow +That she had travailed and brought forth death. +But, for the rest, be all these things a care +Unto the mighty Loxias, the lord +Of this our shrine: healer and prophet he, +Discerner he of portents, and the cleanser +Of other homes—behold, his own to cleanse! + +[_Exit_. + +[_The scene opens, disclosing the interior of the temple: Orestes +clings to the central altar; the Furies lie slumbering at a little +distance; Apollo and Hermes appear from the innermost shrine_. + +APOLLO +Lo, I desert thee never: to the end, +Hard at thy side as now, or sundered far, +I am thy guard, and to thine enemies +Implacably oppose me: look on them, +These greedy fiends, beneath my craft subdued! +See, they are fallen on sleep, these beldames old, +Unto whose grim and wizened maidenhood +Nor god nor man nor beast can e’er draw near. +Yea, evil were they born, for evil’s doom, +Evil the dark abyss of Tartarus +Wherein they dwell, and they themselves the hate +Of men on earth, and of Olympian gods. +But thou, flee far and with unfaltering speed; +For they shall hunt thee through the mainland wide +Where’er throughout the tract of travelled earth +Thy foot may roam, and o’er and o’er the seas +And island homes of men. Faint not nor fail, +Too soon and timidly within thy breast +Shepherding thoughts forlorn of this thy toil; +But unto Pallas’ city go, and there +Crouch at her shrine, and in thine arms enfold +Her ancient image: there we well shall find +Meet judges for this cause and suasive pleas, +Skilled to contrive for thee deliverance +From all this woe. Be such my pledge to thee, +For by my hest thou didst thy mother slay. + +ORESTES +O king Apollo, since right well thou know’st +What justice bids, have heed, fulfil the same,— +Thy strength is all-sufficient to achieve. + +APOLLO +Have thou too heed, nor let thy fear prevail +Above thy will. And do thou guard him, Hermes, +Whose blood is brother unto mine, whose sire +The same high God. Men call thee guide and guard, +Guide therefore thou and guard my suppliant; +For Zeus himself reveres the outlaw’s right, +Boon of fair escort, upon man conferred. + +[_Exeunt Apollo, Hermes, and Orestes. The Ghost of Clytemnestra near_ + +GHOST OF CLYTEMNESTRA +Sleep on! awake! what skills your sleep to me— +Me, among all the dead by you dishonoured— +Me from whom never, in the world of death, +Dieth this curse, _’Tis she who smote and slew_, +And shamed and scorned I roam? Awake, and hear +My plaint of dead men’s hate intolerable. +Me, sternly slain by them that should have loved, +Me doth no god arouse him to avenge, +Hewn down in blood by matricidal hands. +Mark ye these wounds from which the heart’s blood ran, +And by whose hand, bethink ye! for the sense +When shut in sleep hath then the spirit-sight, +But in the day the inward eye is blind. +List, ye who drank so oft with lapping tongue +The wineless draught by me outpoured to soothe +Your vengeful ire! how oft on kindled shrine +I laid the feast of darkness, at the hour +Abhorred of every god but you alone! +Lo, all my service trampled down and scorned! +And he hath baulked your chase, as stag the hounds; +Yea, lightly bounding from the circling toils, +Hath wried his face in scorn, and flieth far. +Awake and hear—for mine own soul I cry— +Awake, ye powers of hell! the wandering ghost +That once was Clytemnestra calls—Arise! + + [_The Furies mutter grimly, as in a dream_. + +Mutter and murmur! He hath flown afar— My kin have gods to guard them, +I have none! + + [_The Furies mutter as before_. + +O drowsed in sleep too deep to heed my pain! +Orestes flies, who me, his mother, slew. + +[_The Furies give a confused cry_. + +Yelping, and drowsed again? Up and be doing +That which alone is yours, the deed of hell! + +[_The Furies give another cry_. + +Lo, sleep and toil, the sworn confederates, +Have quelled your dragon-anger, once so fell! + +THE FURIES (_muttering more fiercely and loudly_) +Seize, seize, seize, seize—mark, yonder! + +GHOST +In dreams ye chase a prey, and like some hound, +That even in sleep doth ply his woodland toil, +Ye bell and bay. What do ye, sleeping here? +Be not o’ercome with toil, nor sleep-subdued, +Be heedless of my wrong. Up! thrill your heart +With the just chidings of my tongue,—such words +Are as a spur to purpose firmly held. +Blow forth on him the breath of wrath and blood, +Scorch him with reek of fire that burns in you, +Waste him with new pursuit—swift, hound him down! + +[_Ghost sinks._ + +FIRST FURY (_awaking_) +Up! rouse another as I rouse thee; up! +Sleep’st thou? Rise up, and spurning sleep away, +See we if false to us this prelude rang. + +CHORUS OF FURIES +Alack, alack, O sisters, we have toiled, + O much and vainly have we toiled and borne! +Vainly! and all we wrought the gods have foiled, + And turnèd us to scorn! +He hath slipped from the net, whom we chased: he + hath ’scaped us who should be our prey— +O’ermastered by slumber we sank, and our quarry hath stolen away! +Thou, child of the high God Zeus, Apollo, hast robbed us and wronged; +Thou, a youth, hast down-trodden the right that is godship more ancient +belonged; +Thou hast cherished thy suppliant man; the slayer the God-forsaken, +The bane of a parent, by craft from out of our grasp thou hast taken: +A god, thou hast stolen from us the avengers a matricide son— +And who shall consider thy deed and say, _It is rightfully_ done? + The sound of chiding scorn + Came from the land of dream; + Deep to mine inmost heart I felt it thrill and burn, + Thrust as a strong-grasped goad, to urge + Onward the chariot’s team. + Thrilled, chilled with bitter inward pain + I stand as one beneath the doomsman’s scourge. + Shame on the younger gods who tread down right, + Sitting on thrones of might! + Woe on the altar of earth’s central fane! + Clotted on step and shrine, +Behold, the guilt of blood, the ghastly stain! + Woe upon thee, Apollo! uncontrolled, + Unbidden, hast thou, prophet-god, imbrued + The pure prophetic shrine with wrongful blood! + For thou too heinous a respect didst hold +Of man, too little heed of powers divine! + And us the Fates, the ancients of the earth, + Didst deem as nothing worth. +Scornful to me thou art, yet shalt not fend + My wrath from him; though unto hell he flee, + There too are we! +And he the blood defiled, should feel and rue, +Though I were not, fiend-wrath that shall not end, +Descending on his head who foully slew. + +[_Re-enter Apollo from the inner shrine._ + +APOLLO +Out! I command you. Out from this my home— +Haste, tarry not! Out from the mystic shrine, +Lest thy lot be to take into thy breast +The winged bright dart that from my golden string +Speeds hissing as a snake,—lest, pierced and thrilled +With agony, thou shouldst spew forth again +Black frothy heart’s-blood, drawn from mortal men, +Belching the gory clots sucked forth from wounds. +These be no halls where such as you can prowl— +Go where men lay on men the doom of blood, +Heads lopped from necks, eyes from their spheres plucked out, +Hacked flesh, the flower of youthful seed crushed out, +Feet hewn away, and hands, and death beneath +The smiting stone, low moans and piteous +Of men impaled—Hark, hear ye for what feast +Ye hanker ever, and the loathing gods +Do spit upon your craving? Lo, your shape +Is all too fitted to your greed; the cave +Where lurks some lion, lapping gore, were home +More meet for you. Avaunt from sacred shrines, +Nor bring pollution by your touch on all +That nears you. Hence! and roam unshepherded— +No god there is to tend such herd as you. + +CHORUS +O king Apollo, in our turn hear us. +Thou hast’not only part in these ill things, +But art chief cause and doer of the same. + +APOLLO +How? stretch thy speech to tell this, and have done. + +CHORUS +Thine oracle bade this man slay his mother. + +APOLLO +I bade him quit his sire’s death,—wherefore not? + +CHORUS +Then didst thou aid and guard red-handed crime. + +APOLLO +Yea, and I bade him to this temple flee. + +CHORUS +And yet forsooth dost chide us following him! + +APOLLO +Ay—not for you it is, to near this fane. + +CHORUS +Yet is such office ours, imposed by fate. + +APOLLO +What office? vaunt the thing ye deem so fair. + +CHORUS +From home to home we chase the matricide. + +APOLLO +What? to avenge a wife who slays her lord? + +CHORUS +That is not blood outpoured by kindred hands. + +APOLLO +How darkly ye dishonour and annul +The troth to which the high accomplishers, +Hera and Zeus, do honour. Yea, and thus +Is Aphrodite to dishonour cast, +The queen of rapture unto mortal men. +Know, that above the marriage-bed ordained +For man and woman standeth Right as guard, +Enhancing sanctity of troth-plight sworn; +Therefore, if thou art placable to those +Who have their consort slain, nor will’st to turn +On them the eye of wrath, unjust art thou +In hounding to his doom the man who slew +His mother. Lo, I know thee full of wrath +Against one deed, but all too placable +Unto the other, minishing the crime. +But in this cause shall Pallas guard the right. + +CHORUS +Deem not my quest shall ever quit that man. + +APOLLO +Follow then, make thee double toil in vain! + +CHORUS +Think not by speech mine office to curtail. + +APOLLO +None hast thou, that I would accept of thee! + +CHORUS +Yea, high thine honour by the throne of Zeus: +But I, drawn on by scent of mother’s blood, +Seek vengeance on this man and hound him down. + +APOLLO +But I will stand beside him; ’tis for me +To guard my suppliant: gods and men alike +Do dread the curse of such an one betrayed, +And in me Fear and Will say _Leave him not_. + +[_Exeunt omnes_ + +_The scene changes to Athens. In the foreground, the Temple of Athena +on the Acropolis; her statue stands in the centre; Orestes is seen +clinging to it._ + +ORESTES +Look on me, queen Athena; lo, I come +By Loxias’ behest; thou of thy grace +Receive me, driven of avenging powers— +Not now a red-hand slayer unannealed, +But with guilt fading, half-effaced, outworn +On many homes and paths of mortal men. +For to the limit of each land, each sea, +I roamed, obedient to Apollo’s hest, +And come at last, O Goddess, to thy fane, +And clinging to thine image, bide my doom. + +[_Enter the Chorus of Furies, questing like hounds_ + +CHORUS +Ho! clear is here the trace of him we seek: +Follow the track of blood, the silent sign! +Like to some hound that hunts a wounded fawn, +We snuff along the scent of dripping gore, +And inwardly we pant, for many a day +Toiling in chase that shall fordo the man; +For o’er and o’er the wide land have I ranged, +And o’er the wide sea, flying without wings, +Swift as a sail I pressed upon his track, +Who now hard by is crouching, well I wot, +For scent of mortal blood allures me here. + Follow, seek him—round and round +Scent and snuff and scan the ground, +Lest unharmed he slip away, + He who did his mother slay! +Hist—he is there! See him his arms entwine +Around the image of the maid divine— + Thus aided, for the deed he wrought +Unto the judgment wills he to be brought. + +It may not be! a mother’s blood, poured forth + Upon the stainèd earth, +None gathers up: it lies—bear witness, Hell!— + For aye indelible! +And thou who sheddest it shalt give thine own + That shedding to atone! +Yea, from thy living limbs I suck it out, + Red, clotted, gout by gout,— +A draught abhorred of men and gods; but I + Will drain it, suck thee dry; +Yea, I will waste thee living, nerve and vein; + Yea, for thy mother slain, +Will drag thee downward, there where thou shalt dree + The weird of agony! +And thou and whatsoe’er of men hath sinned— + Hath wronged or God, or friend, +Or parent,—learn ye how to all and each + The arm of doom can reach! +Sternly requiteth, in the world beneath, + The judgment-seat of Death; +Yea, Death, beholding every man’s endeavour + Recordeth it for ever. + +ORESTES +I, schooled in many miseries, have learnt +How many refuges of cleansing shrines +There be; I know when law alloweth speech +And when imposeth silence. Lo, I stand +Fixed now to speak, for he whose word is wise +Commands the same. Look, how the stain of blood +Is dull upon mine hand and wastes away, +And laved and lost therewith is the deep curse +Of matricide; for while the guilt was new, +’Twas banished from me at Apollo’s hearth, +Atoned and purified by death of swine. +Long were my word if I should sum the tale, +How oft since then among my fellow-men +I stood and brought no curse. Time cleanses all— +Time, the coeval of all things that are. +Now from pure lips, in words of omen fair, +I call Athena, lady of this land, +To come, my champion: so, in aftertime, +She shall not fail of love and service leal, +Not won by war, from me and from my land, +And all the folk of Argos, vowed to her. + Now, be she far away in Libyan land +Where flows from Triton’s lake her natal wave,— +Stand she with planted feet, or in some hour +Of rest conceal them, champion of her friends +Where’er she be,—or whether o’er the plain +Phlegraean she look forth, as warrior bold— +I cry to her to come, where’er she be, +(And she, as goddess, from afar can hear,) +And aid and free me, set among my foes. + +CHORUS +Thee not Apollo nor Athena’s strength +Can save from perishing, a castaway +Amid the Lost, where no delight shall meet +Thy soul—a bloodless prey of nether powers, +A shadow among shadows. Answerest thou +Nothing? dost cast away my words with scorn, +Thou, prey prepared and dedicate to me? +Not as a victim slain upon the shrine, +But living shalt thou see thy flesh my food. +Hear now the binding chant that makes thee mine. + +Weave the weird dance,—behold the hour + To utter forth the chant of hell, + Our sway among mankind to tell, +The guidance of our power. +Of Justice are we ministers, + And whosoe’er of men may stand + Lifting a pure unsullied hand, +That man no doom of ours incurs, + And walks thro’ all his mortal path + Untouched by woe, unharmed by wrath. + But if, as yonder man, he hath +Blood on the hands he strives to hide, + We stand avengers at his side, +Decreeing, _Thou hast wronged the dead: + We are doom’s witnesses to thee_. +The price of blood, his hands have shed, +We wring from him; in life, in death, + Hard at his side are we! + +Night, Mother Night, who brought me forth, a torment + To living men and dead, +Hear me, O hear! by Leto’s stripling son + I am dishonourèd: +He hath ta’en from me him who cowers in refuge, + To me made consecrate,— +A rightful victim, him who slew his mother. + Given o’er to me and fate. + + Hear the hymn of hell, + O’er the victim sounding,— + Chant of frenzy, chant of ill, + Sense and will confounding! + Round the soul entwining + Without lute or lyre— + Soul in madness pining, + Wasting as with fire! + +Fate, all-pervading Fate, this service spun, commanding + That I should bide therein: +Whosoe’er of mortals, made perverse and lawless, + Is stained with blood of kin, +By his side are we, and hunt him ever onward, + Till to the Silent Land, +The realm of death, he cometh; neither yonder + In freedom shall he stand. + + Hear the hymn of hell, + O’er the victim sounding,— + Chant of frenzy, chant of ill, + Sense and will confounding! + Round the soul entwining + Without lute or lyre— + Soul in madness pining, + Wasting as with fire! + +When from womb of Night we sprang, on us this labour + Was laid and shall abide. +Gods immortal are ye, yet beware ye touch not + That which is our pride! +None may come beside us gathered round the blood feast— + For us no garments white +Gleam on a festal day; for us a darker fate is, + Another darker rite. +That is mine hour when falls an ancient line— + When in the household’s heart +The god of blood doth slay by kindred hands,— + Then do we bear our part: +On him who slays we sweep with chasing cry: +Though he be triply strong, +We wear and waste him; blood atones for blood, +New pain for ancient wrong. + +I hold this task—’tis mine, and not another’s. +The very gods on high, +Though they can silence and annul the prayers +Of those who on us cry, +They may not strive with us who stand apart, +A race by Zeus abhorred, +Blood-boltered, held unworthy of the council +And converse of Heaven’s lord. +Therefore the more I leap upon my prey; +Upon their head I bound; +My foot is hard; as one that trips a runner +I cast them to the ground; +Yea, to the depth of doom intolerable; +And they who erst were great, +And upon earth held high their pride and glory, +Are brought to low estate. +In underworld they waste and are diminished, +The while around them fleet +Dark wavings of my robes, and, subtly woven, +The paces of my feet. + +Who falls infatuate, he sees not, neither knows he +That we are at his side; +So closely round about him, darkly flitting, +The cloud of guilt doth glide. +Heavily ’tis uttered, how around his hearthstone +The mirk of hell doth rise. +Stern and fixed the law is; we have hands t’achieve it, +Cunning to devise. +Queens are we and mindful of our solemn vengeance. +Not by tear or prayer +Shall a man avert it. In unhonoured darkness, +Far from gods, we fare, +Lit unto our task with torch of sunless regions, +And o’er a deadly way— +Deadly to the living as to those who see not + Life and light of day— +Hunt we and press onward. Who of mortals hearing + Doth not quake for awe, +Hearing all that Fate thro’ hand of God hath given us + For ordinance and law? +Yea, this right to us, in dark abysm and backward + Of ages it befel: +None shall wrong mine office, tho’ in nether regions + And sunless dark I dwell. + + [_Enter Athena from above._ + +ATHENA +Far off I heard the clamour of your cry, +As by Scamander’s side I set my foot +Asserting right upon the land given o’er +To me by those who o’er Achaia’s host +Held sway and leadership: no scanty part +Of all they won by spear and sword, to me +They gave it, land and all that grew theron, +As chosen heirloom for my Theseus’ clan. +Thence summoned, sped I with a tireless foot,— +Hummed on the wind, instead of wings, the fold +Of this mine aegis, by my feet propelled, +As, linked to mettled horses, speeds a car. +And now, beholding here Earth’s nether brood, +I fear it nought, yet are mine eyes amazed +With wonder. Who are ye? of all I ask, +And of this stranger to my statue clinging. +But ye—your shape is like no human form, +Like to no goddess whom the gods behold, +Like to no shape which mortal women wear. +Yet to stand by and chide a monstrous form +Is all unjust—from such words Right revolts. + +CHORUS +O child of Zeus, one word shall tell thee all. +We are the children of eternal Night, +And Furies in the underworld are called. + +ATHENA +I know your lineage now and eke your name. + +CHORUS +Yea, and eftsoons indeed my rights shalt know. + +ATHENA +Fain would I learn them; speak them clearly forth. + +CHORUS +We chase from home the murderers of men. + +ATHENA +And where at last can he that slew make pause? + +CHORUS +Where this is law—_All joy abandon here._ + +ATHENA +Say, do ye bay this man to such a flight? + +CHORUS +Yea, for of choice he did his mother slay. + +ATHENA +Urged by no fear of other wrath and doom? + +CHORUS +What spur can rightly goad to matricide? + +ATHENA +Two stand to plead—one only have I heard. + +CHORUS +He will not swear nor challenge us to oath. + +ATHENA +The form of justice, not its deed, thou willest. + +CHORUS +Prove thou that word; thou art not scant of skill. + +ATHENA +I say that oaths shall not enforce the wrong. + +CHORUS +Then test the cause, judge and award the right. + +ATHENA +Will ye to me then this decision trust? + +CHORUS +Yea, reverencing true child of worthy sire. + +ATHENA (_to Orestes_) +O man unknown, make thou thy plea in turn. +Speak forth thy land, thy lineage, and thy woes; +Then, if thou canst, avert this bitter blame— +If, as I deem, in confidence of right +Thou sittest hard beside my holy place, +Clasping this statue, as Ixion sat, +A sacred suppliant for Zeus to cleanse,— +To all this answer me in words made plain. + +ORESTES +O queen Athena, first from thy last words +Will I a great solicitude remove. +Not one blood-guilty am I; no foul stain +Clings to thine image from my clinging hand; +Whereof one potent proof I have to tell. +Lo, the law stands—_The slayer shall not plead, +Till by the hand of him who cleanses blood +A suckling creature’s blood besprinkle him_. +Long since have I this expiation done,— +In many a home, slain beasts and running streams +Have cleansed me. Thus I speak away that fear. +Next, of my lineage quickly thou shalt learn: +An Argive am I, and right well thou know’st +My sire, that Agamemnon who arrayed +The fleet and them that went therein to war— +That chief with whom thy hand combined to crush +To an uncitied heap what once was Troy; +That Agamemnon, when he homeward came, +Was brought unto no honourable death, +Slain by the dark-souled wife who brought me forth +To him,—enwound and slain in wily nets, +Blazoned with blood that in the laver ran. +And I, returning from an exiled youth, +Slew her, my mother—lo, it stands avowed! +With blood for blood avenging my loved sire; +And in this deed doth Loxias bear part, +Decreeing agonies, to goad my will, +Unless by me the guilty found their doom. +Do thou decide if right or wrong were done— +Thy dooming, whatsoe’er it be, contents me. + +ATHENA +Too mighty is this matter, whatsoe’er +Of mortals claims to judge hereof aright. +Yea, me, even me, eternal Right forbids +To judge the issues of blood-guilt, and wrath +That follows swift behind. This too gives pause, +That thou as one with all due rites performed +Dost come, unsinning, pure, unto my shrine. +Whate’er thou art, in this my city’s name, +As uncondemned, I take thee to my side,— +Yet have these foes of thine such dues by fate, +I may not banish them: and if they fail, +O’erthrown in judgment of the cause, forthwith +Their anger’s poison shall infect the land— +A dropping plague-spot of eternal ill. +Thus stand we with a woe on either hand: +Stay they, or go at my commandment forth, +Perplexity or pain must needs befall. +Yet, as on me Fate hath imposed the cause, +I choose unto me judges that shall be +An ordinance for ever, set to rule +The dues of blood-guilt, upon oath declared. +But ye, call forth your witness and your proof, +Words strong for justice, fortified by oath; +And I, whoe’er are truest in my town, +Them will I chose and bring, and straitly charge, +_Look on this cause, discriminating well, +And pledge your oath to utter nought of wrong._ + +[_Exit Athena._ + +CHORUS +Now are they all undone, the ancient laws, + If here the slayer’s cause +Prevail; new wrong for ancient right shall be + If matricide go free. +Henceforth a deed like his by all shall stand, + Too ready to the hand: +Too oft shall parents in the aftertime + Rue and lament this crime,— +Taught, not in false imagining, to feel + Their children’s thrusting steel: +No more the wrath, that erst on murder fell + From us, the queens of Hell. +Shall fall, no more our watching gaze impend— + Death shall smite unrestrained. + +Henceforth shall one unto another cry +_Lo, they are stricken, lo, they fall and die +Around me!_ and that other answers him, +_O thou that lookest that thy woes should cease, + Behold, with dark increase +They throng and press upon thee; yea, and dim + Is all the cure, and every comfort vain!_ + +Let none henceforth cry out, when falls the blow + Of sudden-smiting woe, + Cry out in sad reiterated strain + _O Justice, aid! aid, O ye thrones of Hell!_ + So though a father or a mother wail + New-smitten by a son, it shall no more avail, + Since, overthrown by wrong, the fane of Justice fell! + + Know, that a throne there is that may not pass away, + And one that sitteth on it—even Fear, + Searching with steadfast eyes man’s inner soul: + Wisdom is child of pain, and born with many a tear; + But who henceforth, + What man of mortal men, what nation upon earth, + That holdeth nought in awe nor in the light + Of inner reverence, shall worship Right + As in the older day? + + Praise not, O man, the life beyond control, + Nor that which bows unto a tyrant’s sway. + Know that the middle way + Is dearest unto God, and they thereon who wend, + They shall achieve the end; + But they who wander or to left or right + Are sinners in his sight. + Take to thy heart this one, this soothfast word— + Of wantonness impiety is sire; + Only from calm control and sanity unstirred + Cometh true weal, the goal of every man’s desire. + + Yea, whatsoe’er befall, hold thou this word of mine: + _Bow down at Justice’ shrine, + Turn thou thine eyes away from earthly lure, + Nor with a godless foot that altar spurn._ + For as thou dost shall Fate do in return, + And the great doom is sure. + Therefore let each adore a parent’s trust, + And each with loyalty revere the guest + That in his halls doth rest. + For whoso uncompelled doth follow what is just, + He ne’er shall be unblest; + Yea, never to the gulf of doom + That man shall come. +But he whose will is set against the gods, + Who treads beyond the law with foot impure, + +Till o’er the wreck of Right confusion broods— + Know that for him, though now he sail secure, +The day of storm shall be; then shall he strive and fail, + Down from the shivered yard to furl the sail, +And call on Powers, that heed him nought, to save + And vainly wrestle with the whirling wave, + Hot was his heart with pride— + _I shall not fall_, he cried. + But him with watching scorn + The god beholds, forlorn, + Tangled in toils of Fate beyond escape, + Hopeless of haven safe beyond the cape— +Till all his wealth and bliss of bygone day + Upon the reef of Rightful Doom is hurled, + And he is rapt away +Unwept, for ever, to the dead forgotten world. + +[_Re-enter Athena, with twelve Athenian citizens_. + +ATHENA +O herald, make proclaim, bid all men come. +Then let the shrill blast of the Tyrrhene trump, +Fulfilled with mortal breath, thro’ the wide air +Peal a loud summons, bidding all men heed. +For, till my judges fill this judgment-seat, +Silence behoves,—that this whole city learn, +What for all time mine ordinance commands, +And these men, that the cause be judged aright. + +[_Apollo approaches._ + +CHORUS +O king Apollo, rule what is thine own, +But in this thing what share pertains to thee? + +APOLLO +First, as a witness come I, for this man +Is suppliant of mine by sacred right, +Guest of my holy hearth and cleansed by me +Of blood-guilt: then, to set me at his side +And in his cause bear part, as part I bore +Erst in his deed, whereby his mother fell. +Let whoso knoweth now announce the cause. + +ATHENA (_to the Chorus_) +’Tis I announce the cause—first speech be yours; +For rightfully shall they whose plaint is tried +Tell the tale first and set the matter clear. + +CHORUS +Though we be many, brief shall be our tale. +(_To Orestes_) Answer thou, setting word to match with word; +And first avow—hast thou thy mother slain? + +ORESTES +I slew her. I deny no word hereof. + +CHORUS +Three falls decide the wrestle—this is one. + +ORESTES +Thou vauntest thee—but o’er no final fall. + +CHORUS +Yet must thou tell the manner of thy deed. + +ORESTES +Drawn sword in hand, I gashed her neck. ’Tis told. + +CHORUS +But by whose word, whose craft, wert thou impelled? + +ORESTES +By oracles of him who here attests me. + +CHORUS +The prophet-god bade thee thy mother slay? + +ORESTES +Yea, and thro’ him less ill I fared, till now. + +CHORUS +If the vote grip thee, thou shalt change that word. + +ORESTES +Strong is my hope; my buried sire shall aid. + +CHORUS +Go to now, trust the dead, a matricide! + +ORESTES +Yea, for in her combined two stains of sin. + +CHORUS +How? speak this clearly to the judges’ mind. + +ORESTES +Slaying her husband, she did slay my sire. + +CHORUS +Therefore thou livest; death assoils her deed. + +ORESTES +Then while she lived why didst thou hunt her not? + +CHORUS +She was not kin by blood to him she slew. + +ORESTES +And I, am I by blood my mother’s kin? + +CHORUS +O cursed with murder’s guilt, how else wert thou +The burden of her womb? Dost thou forswear +Thy mother’s kinship, closest bond of love? + +ORESTES +It is thine hour, Apollo—speak the law, +Averring if this deed were justly done; +For done it is, and clear and undenied. +But if to thee this murder’s cause seem right +Or wrongful, speak—that I to these may tell. + +APOLLO +To you, Athena’s mighty council-court, +Justly for justice will I plead, even I, +The prophet-god, nor cheat you by one word. +For never spake I from my prophet-seat +One word, of man, of woman, or of state, +Save what the Father of Olympian gods +Commanded unto me. I rede you then, +Bethink you of my plea, how strong it stands, +And follow the decree of Zeus our sire,— +For oaths prevail not over Zeus’ command. + +CHORUS +Go to; thou sayest that from Zeus befel +The oracle that this Orestes bade +With vengeance quit the slaying of his sire, +And hold as nought his mother’s right of kin! + +APOLLO +Yea, for it stands not with a common death, +That he should die, a chieftain and a king +Decked with the sceptre which high heaven confers— +Die, and by female hands, not smitten down +By a far-shooting bow, held stalwartly +By some strong Amazon. Another doom +Was his: O Pallas, hear, and ye who sit +In judgment, to discern this thing aright!— +She with a specious voice of welcome true +Hailed him, returning from the mighty mart +Where war for life gives fame, triumphant home; +Then o’er the laver, as he bathed himself, +She spread from head to foot a covering net, +And in the endless mesh of cunning robes +Enwound and trapped her lord, and smote him down. +Lo, ye have heard what doom this chieftain met, +The majesty of Greece, the fleet’s high lord: +Such as I tell it, let it gall your ears, +Who stand as judges to decide this cause. + +CHORUS +Zeus, as thou sayest, holds a father’s death +As first of crimes,—yet he of his own act +Cast into chains his father, Cronos old: +How suits that deed with that which now ye tell? +O ye who judge, I bid ye mark my words! + +APOLLO +O monsters loathed of all, O scorn of gods, +He that hath bound may loose: a cure there is, +Yea, many a plan that can unbind the chain. +But when the thirsty dust sucks up man’s blood +Once shed in death, he shall arise no more. +No chant nor charm for this my Sire hath wrought. +All else there is, he moulds and shifts at will, +Not scant of strength nor breath, whate’er he do. + +CHORUS +Think yet, for what acquittal thou dost plead: +He who hath shed a mother’s kindred blood, +Shall he in Argos dwell, where dwelt his sire? +How shall he stand before the city’s shrines, +How share the clansmen’s holy lustral bowl? + +APOLLO +This too I answer; mark a soothfast word, +Not the true parent is the woman’s womb +That bears the child; she doth but nurse the seed +New-sown: the male is parent; she for him, +As stranger for a stranger, hoards the germ +Of life; unless the god its promise blight. +And proof hereof before you will I set. +Birth may from fathers, without mothers, be: +See at your side a witness of the same, +Athena, daughter of Olympian Zeus, +Never within the darkness of the womb +Fostered nor fashioned, but a bud more bright +Than any goddess in her breast might bear. +And I, O Pallas, howsoe’er I may, +Henceforth will glorify thy town, thy clan, +And for this end have sent my suppliant here +Unto thy shrine; that he from this time forth +Be loyal unto thee for evermore, +O goddess-queen, and thou unto thy side +Mayst win and hold him faithful, and his line, +And that for aye this pledge and troth remain +To children’s children of Athenian seed. + +ATHENA +Enough is said; I bid the judges now +With pure intent deliver just award. + +CHORUS +We too have shot our every shaft of speech, +And now abide to hear the doom of law. + +ATHENA (_to Apollo and Orestes_) +Say, how ordaining shall I ’scape your blame? + +APOLLO +I spake, ye heard; enough. O stranger men, +Heed well your oath as ye decide the cause. + +ATHENA +O men of Athens, ye who first do judge +The law of bloodshed, hear me now ordain. +Here to all time for Aegeus’ Attic host +Shall stand this council-court of judges sworn, +Here the tribunal, set on Ares’ Hill +Where camped of old the tented Amazons, +What time in hate of Theseus they assailed +Athens, and set against her citadel +A counterwork of new sky-pointing towers, +And there to Ares held their sacrifice, +Where now the rock hath name, even Ares’ Hill. +And hence shall Reverence and her kinsman Fear +Pass to each free man’s heart, by day and night +Enjoining, _Thou shalt do no unjust thing_, +So long as law stands as it stood of old +Unmarred by civic change. Look you, the spring +Is pure; but foul it once with influx vile +And muddy clay, and none can drink thereof. +Therefore, O citizens, I bid ye bow +In awe to this command, _Let no man live +Uncurbed by law nor curbed by tyranny;_ +Nor banish ye the monarchy of Awe +Beyond the walls; untouched by fear divine, +No man doth justice in the world of men. +Therefore in purity and holy dread +Stand and revere; so shall ye have and hold +A saving bulwark of the state and land, +Such as no man hath ever elsewhere known, +Nor in far Scythia, nor in Pelops’ realm. +Thus I ordain it now, a council-court +Pure and unsullied by the lust of gain, +Sacred and swift to vengeance, wakeful ever +To champion men who sleep, the country’s guard. +Thus have I spoken, thus to mine own clan +Commended it for ever. Ye who judge, +Arise, take each his vote, mete out the right, +Your oath revering. Lo, my word is said. + +[_The twelve judges come forward, one by one, to the urns of decision; +the first votes; as each of the others follows, the Chorus and Apollo +speak alternately._ + +CHORUS +I rede ye well, beware! nor put to shame, +In aught, this grievous company of hell. + +APOLLO +I too would warn you, fear mine oracles— +From Zeus they are,—nor make them void of fruit. + +CHORUS +Presumptuous is thy claim, blood-guilt to judge, +And false henceforth thine oracles shall be. + +APOLLO +Failed then the counsels of my sire, when turned +Ixion, first of slayers, to his side? + +CHORUS +These are but words; but I, if justice fail me, +Will haunt this land in grim and deadly deed. + +APOLLO +Scorn of the younger and the elder gods +Art thou: ’tis I that shall prevail anon. + +CHORUS +Thus didst thou too of old in Pheres’ halls, +O’erreaching Fate to make a mortal deathless. + +APOLLO +Was it not well, my worshipper to aid, +Then most of all when hardest was the need? + +CHORUS +I say thou didst annul the lots of life, +Cheating with wine the deities of eld. + +APOLLO +I say thou shalt anon, thy pleadings foiled, +Spit venom vainly on thine enemies. + +CHORUS +Since this young god o’errides mine ancient right, +I tarry but to claim your law, not knowing +If wrath of mine shall blast your state or spare + +ATHENA +Mine is the right to add the final vote, +And I award it to Orestes’ cause. +For me no mother bore within her womb, +And, save for wedlock evermore eschewed, +I vouch myself the champion of the man, +Not of the woman, yea, with all my soul,— +In heart, as birth, a father’s child alone. +Thus will I not too heinously regard +A woman’s death who did her husband slay, +The guardian of her home; and if the votes +Equal do fall, Orestes shall prevail. +Ye of the judges who are named thereto, +Swiftly shake forth the lots from either urn. + +[_Two judges come forward, one to each urn._ + +ORESTES +O bright Apollo, what shall be the end? + +CHORUS +O Night, dark mother mine, dost mark these things? + +OSESTES +Now shall my doom be life, or strangling cords. + +CHORUS +And mine, lost honour or a wider sway. + +APOLLO +O stranger judges, sum aright the count +Of votes cast forth, and, parting them, take heed +Ye err not in decision. The default +Of one vote only bringeth ruin deep, +One, cast aright, doth stablish house and home. + +ATHENA +Behold, this man is free from guilt of blood, +For half the votes condemn him, half set free! + +ORESTES +O Pallas, light and safety of my home, +Thou, thou hast given me back to dwell once more +In that my fatherland, amerced of which +I wandered; now shall Grecian lips say this, +_The man is Argive once again, and dwells +Again within his father’s wealthy hall, +By Pallas saved, by Loxias, and by Him, +The great third saviour, Zeus omnipotent—_ +Who thus in pity for my father’s fate +Doth pluck me from my doom, beholding these, +Confederates of my mother. Lo, I pass +To mine own home, but proffering this vow +Unto thy land and people: _Nevermore, +Thro’ all the manifold years of Time to be, +Shall any chieftain of mine Argive land +Bear hitherward his spears for fight arrayed._ +For we, though lapped in earth we then shall lie, +By thwart adversities will work our will +On them who shall transgress this oath of mine, +Paths of despair and journeyings ill-starred +For them ordaining, till their task they rue. +But if this oath be rightly kept, to them +Will we the dead be full of grace, the while +With loyal league they honour Pallas’ town. +And now farewell, thou and thy city’s folk— +Firm be thine arm’s grasp, closing with thy foes, +And, strong to save, bring victory to thy spear. + +[_Exit Orestes, with Apollo._ + +CHORUS +Woe on you, younger gods! the ancient right +Ye have o’erridden, rent it from my hands. + +I am dishonoured of you, thrust to scorn! + But heavily my wrath +Shall on this land fling forth the drops that blast and burn + Venom of vengeance, that shall work such scathe + As I have suffered; where that dew shall fall, + Shall leafless blight arise, + Wasting Earth’s offspring,—Justice, hear my call!— + And thorough all the land in deadly wise + Shall scatter venom, to exude again + In pestilence on men. + What cry avails me now, what deed of blood, + Unto this land what dark despite? + Alack, alack, forlorn + Are we, a bitter injury have borne! + Alack, O sisters, O dishonoured brood + Of mother Night! + +ATHENA +Nay, bow ye to my words, chafe not nor moan: +Ye are not worsted nor disgraced; behold, +With balanced vote the cause had issue fair, +Nor in the end did aught dishonour thee. +But thus the will of Zeus shone clearly forth, +And his own prophet-god avouched the same, +_Orestes slew: his slaying is atoned_. +Therefore I pray you, not upon this land +Shoot forth the dart of vengeance; be appeased, +Nor blast the land with blight, nor loose thereon +Drops of eternal venom, direful darts +Wasting and marring nature’s seed of growth. + +For I, the queen of Athens’ sacred right, +Do pledge to you a holy sanctuary +Deep in the heart of this my land, made just +By your indwelling presence, while ye sit +Hard by your sacred shrines that gleam with oil +Of sacrifice, and by this folk adored. + +CHORUS +Woe on you, younger gods! the ancient right +Ye have o’erridden, rent it from my hands. + +I am dishonoured of you, thrust to scorn! + But heavily my wrath +Shall on his land fling forth the drops that blast and burn. + Venom of vengeance, that shall work such scathe + As I have suffered; where that dew shall fall, + Shall leafless blight arise, +Wasting Earth’s offspring,—Justice, hear my call!— +And thorough all the land in deadly wise +Shall scatter venom, to exude again + In pestilence of men. +What cry avails me now, what deed of blood, +Unto this land what dark despite? + Alack, alack, forlorn +Are we, a bitter injury have borne! +Alack, O sisters, O dishonoured brood + Of mother Night! + +ATHENA +Dishonoured are ye not; turn not, I pray. +As goddesses your swelling wrath on men, +Nor make the friendly earth despiteful to them. +I too have Zeus for champion—’tis enough— +I only of all goddesses do know. +To ope the chamber where his thunderbolts +Lie stored and sealed; but here is no such need. +Nay, be appeased, nor cast upon the ground +The malice of thy tongue, to blast the world; +Calm thou thy bitter wrath’s black inward surge, +For high shall be thine honour, set beside me +For ever in this land, whose fertile lap +Shall pour its teeming firstfruits unto you, +Gifts for fair childbirth and for wedlock’s crown: +Thus honoured, praise my spoken pledge for aye. + +CHORUS +I, I dishonoured in this earth to dwell,— +Ancient of days and wisdom! I breathe forth +Poison and breath of frenzied ire. O Earth, + Woe, woe, for thee, for me! +From side to side what pains be these that thrill? +Hearken, O mother Night, my wrath, mine agony! +Whom from mine ancient rights the gods have thrust, + And brought me to the dust— +Woe, woe is me!—with craft invincible. + +ATHENA +Older art thou than I, and I will bear +With this thy fury. Know, although thou be +More wise in ancient wisdom, yet have I +From Zeus no scanted measure of the same, +Wherefore take heed unto this prophecy— +If to another land of alien men +Ye go, too late shall ye feel longing deep +For mine. The rolling tides of time bring round +A day of brighter glory for this town; +And thou, enshrined in honour by the halls +Where dwelt Erechtheus, shalt a worship win +From men and from the train of womankind, +Greater than any tribe elsewhere shall pay. +Cast thou not therefore on this soil of mine +Whetstones that sharpen souls to bloodshedding. +The burning goads of youthful hearts, made hot +With frenzy of the spirit, not of wine. +Nor pluck as ’twere the heart from cocks that strive, +To set it in the breasts of citizens +Of mine, a war-god’s spirit, keen for fight, +Made stern against their country and their kin. +The man who grievously doth lust for fame, +War, full, immitigable, let him wage +Against the stranger; but of kindred birds +I hold the challenge hateful. Such the boon +I proffer thee—within this land of lands, +Most loved of gods, with me to show and share +Fair mercy, gratitude and grace as fair. + +CHORUS +I, I dishonoured in this earth to dwell,— +Ancient of days and wisdom! I breathe forth +Poison and breath of frenzied ire. O Earth, + Woe, woe for thee, for me! +From side to side what pains be these that thrill? +Hearken, O mother Night, my wrath, mine agony! +Whom from mine ancient rights the gods have thrust, + And brought me to the dust— +Woe, woe is me!—with craft invincible. + +ATHENA +I will not weary of soft words to thee, +That never mayst thou say, _Behold me spurned, +An elder by a younger deity, +And from this land rejected and forlorn, +Unhonoured by the men who dwell therein_. +But, if Persuasion’s grace be sacred to thee, +Soft in the soothing accents of my tongue, +Tarry, I pray thee; yet, if go thou wilt, +Not rightfully wilt thou on this my town +Sway down the scale that beareth wrath and teen +Or wasting plague upon this folk. ’Tis thine, +If so thou wilt, inheritress to be +Of this my land, its utmost grace to win. + +CHORUS +O queen, what refuge dost thou promise me? + +ATHENA +Refuge untouched by bale: take thou my boon. + +CHORUS +What, if I take it, shall mine honour be? + +ATHENA +No house shall prosper without grace of thine. + +CHORUS +Canst thou achieve and grant such power to me? + +ATHENA +Yea, for my hand shall bless thy worshippers. + +CHORUS +And wilt thou pledge me this for time eterne? + +ATHENA +Yea: none can bid me pledge beyond my power. + +CHORUS +Lo, I desist from wrath, appeased by thee. + +ATHENA +Then in the land’s heart shalt thou win thee friends. + +CHORUS +What chant dost bid me raise, to greet the land? + +ATHENA +Such as aspires towards a victory +Unrued by any: chants from breast of earth, +From wave, from sky; and let the wild winds’ breath +Pass with soft sunlight o’er the lap of land,— +Strong wax the fruits of earth, fair teem the kine, +Unfailing, for my town’s prosperity, +And constant be the growth of mortal seed. +But more and more root out the impious, +For as a gardener fosters what he sows, +So foster I this race, whom righteousness +Doth fend from sorrow. Such the proffered boon. +But I, if wars must be, and their loud clash +And carnage, for my town, will ne’er endure +That aught but victory shall crown her fame. + +CHORUS +Lo, I accept it; at her very side + Doth Pallas bid me dwell: + I will not wrong the city of her pride, +Which even Almighty Zeus and Ares hold + Heaven’s earthly citadel, +Loved home of Grecian gods, the young, the old, + The sanctuary divine, + The shield of every shrine! +For Athens I say forth a gracious prophecy,— + The glory of the sunlight and the skies + Shall bid from earth arise +Warm wavelets of new life and glad prosperity. + +ATHENA + Behold, with gracious heart well pleased + I for my citizens do grant + Fulfilment of this covenant: + And here, their wrath at length appeased, + These mighty deities shall stay, + For theirs it is by right to sway +The lot that rules our mortal day, + And he who hath not inly felt + Their stern decree, ere long on him, + Not knowing why and whence, the grim + Life-crushing blow is dealt. + The father’s sin upon the child + Descends, and sin is silent death, + And leads him on the downward path, + By stealth beguiled, + Unto the Furies: though his state + On earth were high, and loud his boast, + Victim of silent ire and hate + He dwells among the Lost. + +CHORUS +To my blessing now give ear.— +Scorching blight nor singèd air +Never blast thine olives fair! +Drouth, that wasteth bud and plant, +Keep to thine own place. Avaunt, +Famine fell, and come not hither +Stealthily to waste and wither! +Let the land, in season due, +Twice her waxing fruits renew; +Teem the kine in double measure; +Rich in new god-given treasure; +Here let men the powers adore +For sudden gifts unhoped before! + +ATHENA + O hearken, warders of the wall + That guards mine Athens, what a dower + Is unto her ordained and given! +For mighty is the Furies’ power, + And deep-revered in courts of heaven +And realms of hell; and clear to all + They weave thy doom, mortality! +And some in joy and peace shall sing; +But unto other some they bring + Sad life and tear-dimmed eye. + +CHORUS +And far away I ban thee and remove, + Untimely death of youths too soon brought low! +And to each maid, O gods, when time is come for love, + Grant ye a warrior’s heart, a wedded life to know. +Ye too, O Fates, children of mother Night, + Whose children too are we, O goddesses +Of just award, of all by sacred right + Queens who in time and in eternity +Do rule, a present power for righteousness, + Honoured beyond all Gods, hear ye and grant my cry! + +ATHENA +And I too, I with joy am fain, +Hearing your voice this gift ordain +Unto my land. High thanks be thine, +Persuasion, who with eyes divine +Into my tongue didst look thy strength, + To bend and to appease at length +Those who would not be comforted. + Zeus, king of parley, doth prevail, +And ye and I will strive nor fail, + That good may stand in evil’s stead, +And lasting bliss for bale. + +CHORUS +And nevermore these walls within +Shall echo fierce sedition’s din + Unslaked with blood and crime; +The thirsty dust shall nevermore +Suck up the darkly streaming gore +Of civic broils, shed out in wrath +And vengeance, crying death for death! +But man with man and state with state +Shall vow _The pledge of common hate +And common friendship, that for man +Hath oft made blessing out of ban, +Be ours unto all time_. + +ATHENA +Skill they, or not, the path to find +Of favouring speech and presage kind? +Yea, even from these, who, grim and stern, + Glared anger upon you of old, +O citizens, ye now shall earn + A recompense right manifold. +Deck them aright, extol them high, +Be loyal to their loyalty, + And ye shall make your town and land + Sure, propped on Justice’ saving hand, +And Fame’s eternity. + +CHORUS + Hail ye, all hail! and yet again, all hail + O Athens, happy in a weal secured! + O ye who sit by Zeus’ right hand, nor fail + Of wisdom set among you and assured, + Loved of the well-loved Goddess-Maid! the King +Of gods doth reverence you, beneath her guarding wing. + +ATHENA +All hail unto each honoured guest! +Whom to the chambers of your rest +’Tis mine to lead, and to provide +The hallowed torch, the guard and guide. +Pass down, the while these altars glow +With sacred fire, to earth below + And your appointed shrine. +There dwelling, from the land restrain +The force of fate, the breath of bane, +But waft on us the gift and gain + Of Victory divine! +And ye, the men of Cranaos’ seed, +I bid you now with reverence lead +These alien Powers that thus are made +Athenian evermore. To you +Fair be their will henceforth, to do + Whate’er may bless and aid! + +CHORUS +Hail to you all! hail yet again, +All who love Athens, Gods and men, + Adoring her as Pallas’ home! +And while ye reverence what ye grant— +My sacred shrine and hidden haunt— + Blameless and blissful be your doom! + +ATHENA +Once more I praise the promise of your vows, +And now I bid the golden torches’ glow +Pass down before you to the hidden depth +Of earth, by mine own sacred servants borne, +Mv loyal guards of statue and of shrine. +Come forth, O flower of Theseus’ Attic land, +O glorious band of children and of wives, +And ye, O train of matrons crowned with eld! +Deck you with festal robes of scarlet dye +In honour of this day: O gleaming torch, +Lead onward, that these gracious powers of earth +Henceforth be seen to bless the life of men. + +[_Athena leads the procession downwards into the Cave of the Furies, +under Areopagus: as they go, the escort of women and children chant +aloud._ + +CHANT +With loyalty we lead you; proudly go, +Night’s childless children, to your home below! + (_O citizens, awhile from words forbear!_) + To darkness’ deep primeval lair, + Far in Earth’s bosom, downward fare, + Adored with prayer and sacrifice. + (_O citizens, forbear your cries!_) + Pass hitherward, ye powers of Dread, + With all your former wrath allayed, + Into the heart of this loved land; + With joy unto your temple wend, + The while upon your steps attend + The flames that fed upon the brand— +(_Now, now ring out your chant, your joy’s acclaim!_) + Behind them, as they downward fare, + Let holy hands libations bear, + And torches’ sacred flame. + All-seeing Zeus and Fate come down + To battle fair for Pallas’ town! +_Ring out your chant, ring out your joy’s acclaim!_ + +[_Exeunt omnes._ + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF ATREUS *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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