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diff --git a/8714-0.txt b/8714-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f77c13 --- /dev/null +++ b/8714-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7055 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Four Plays of Aeschylus, 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: Four Plays of Aeschylus + +Author: Aeschylus + +Release Date: August 3, 2003 [eBook #8714] +[Most recently updated: June 19, 2023] + +Language: English + +Produced by: Ted Garvin, Robert Prince, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOUR PLAYS OF AESCHYLUS *** + + + + +[Illustration] + + +_Hera and Prometheus +From a red figure vase. No 78 in the British Museum_ + + + + +Four Plays of Aeschylus + +The Suppliant Maidens +The Persians +The Seven Against Thebes +The Prometheus Bound + +by Aeschylus + +Translated Into English Verse By E.D.A. Morshead, MA. + +Contents + + INTRODUCTION + THE SUPPLIANT MAIDENS + THE PERSIANS + THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES + PROMETHEUS BOUND + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The surviving dramas of Aeschylus are seven in number, though he is +believed to have written nearly a hundred during his life of sixty-nine +years, from 525 B.C. to 456 B.C. That he fought at Marathon in 490, and +at Salamis in 480 B.C. is a strongly accredited tradition, rendered +almost certain by the vivid references to both battles in his play of +_The Persians_, which was produced in 472. But his earliest extant play +was, probably, not _The Persians_ but _The Suppliant Maidens_—a +mythical drama, the fame of which has been largely eclipsed by the +historic interest of _The Persians_, and is undoubtedly the least known +and least regarded of the seven. Its topic—the flight of the daughters +of Danaus from Egypt to Argos, in order to escape from a forced bridal +with their first-cousins, the sons of Aegyptus—is legendary, and the +lyric element predominates in the play as a whole. We must keep +ourselves reminded that the ancient Athenian custom of presenting +dramas in _Trilogies_—that is, in three consecutive plays dealing with +different stages of one legend—was probably not uniform: it survives, +for us, in one instance only, viz. the Orestean Trilogy, comprising the +_Agamemnon_, the _Libation-Bearers_, and the _Eumenides_, or _Furies_. +This Trilogy is the masterpiece of the Aeschylean Drama: the four +remaining plays of the poet, which are translated in this volume, are +all fragments of lost Trilogies—that is to say, the plays are complete +as _poems_, but in regard to the poet’s larger design they are +fragments; they once had predecessors, or sequels, of which only a few +words, or lines, or short paragraphs, survive. It is not certain, but +seems probable, that the earliest of these single completed plays is +_The Suppliant Maidens_, and on that supposition it has been placed +first in the present volume. The maidens, accompanied by their father +Danaes, have fled from Egypt and arrived at Argos, to take sanctuary +there and to avoid capture by their pursuing kinsmen and suitors. In +the course of the play, the pursuers’ ship arrives to reclaim the +maidens for a forced wedlock in Egypt. The action of the drama turns on +the attitude of the king and people of Argos, in view of this intended +abduction. The king puts the question to the popular vote, and the +demand of the suitors is unanimously rejected: the play closes with +thanks and gratitude on the part of the fugitives, who, in lyrical +strains of quiet beauty, seem to refer the whole question of their +marriage to the subsequent decision of the gods, and, in particular, of +Aphrodite. + +Of the second portion of the Trilogy we can only speak conjecturally. +There is a passage in the _Prometheus Bound_ (ll. 860-69), in which we +learn that the maidens were somehow reclaimed by the suitors, and that +all, except one, slew their bridegrooms on the wedding night. There is +a faint trace, among the Fragments of Aeschylus, of a play called +_Thalamopoioi_,—i.e. _The Preparers of the Chamber_,—which may well +have referred to this tragic scene. Its grim title will recall to all +classical readers the magnificent, though terrible, version of the +legend, in the final stanzas of the eleventh poem in the third book of +Horace’s _Odes_. The final play was probably called _The Danaides_, and +described the acquittal of the brides through some intervention of +Aphrodite: a fragment of it survives, in which the goddess appears to +be pleading her special prerogative. The legends which commit the +daughters of Danaus to an eternal penalty in Hades are, apparently, of +later origin. Homer is silent on any such penalty; and Pindar, +Aeschylus’ contemporary, actually describes the once suppliant maidens +as honourably enthroned (_Pyth_. ix. 112: _Nem_. x. ll. 1-10). The +Tartarean part of the story is, in fact, post-Aeschylean. + +_The Suppliant Maidens_ is full of charm, though the text of the part +which describes the arrival of the pursuers at Argos is full of +uncertainties. It remains a fine, though archaic, poem, with this +special claim on our interest, that it is, probably, the earliest +extant poetic drama. We see in it the _tendency_ to grandiose language, +not yet fully developed as in the _Prometheus_: the inclination of +youth to simplicity, and even platitude, in religious and general +speculation: and yet we recognize, as in the germ, the profound +theology of the _Agamemnon_, and a touch of the political vein which +appears more fully in the _Furies_. If the precedence in time here +ascribed to it is correct, the play is perhaps worth more recognition +than it has received from the countrymen of Shakespeare. + +_The Persians_ has been placed second in this volume, as the oldest +play whose date is certainly known. It was brought out in 472 B.C., +eight years after the sea-fight of Salamis which it commemorates, and +five years before the _Seven against Thebes_ (467 B.C.). It is thought +to be the second play of a Trilogy, standing between the _Phineus_ and +the _Glaucus_. Phineus was a legendary seer, of the Argonautic +era—“Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old”—and the play named after him +may have contained a prophecy of the great conflict which is actually +described in _The Persae_: the plot of the _Glaucus_ is unknown. In any +case, _The Persians_ was produced before the eyes of a generation which +had seen the struggles, West against East, at Marathon and Thermopylæ, +Salamis and Plataea. It is as though Shakespeare had commemorated, +through the lips of a Spanish survivor, in the ears of old councillors +of Philip the Second, the dispersal of the Armada. + +Against the piteous want of manliness on the part of the returning +Xerxes, we may well set the grave and dignified patriotism of Atossa, +the Queen-mother of the Persian kingdom; the loyalty, in spite of their +bewilderment, of the aged men who form the Chorus; and, above all, the +royal phantom of Darius, evoked from the shadowland by the libations of +Atossa and by the appealing cries of the Chorus. The latter, indeed, +hardly dare to address the kingly ghost: but Atossa bravely narrates to +him the catastrophe, of which, in the lower world, Darius has known +nothing, though he realizes that disaster, soon or late, is the lot of +mortal power. As the tale is unrolled, a spirit of prophecy possesses +him, and he foretells the coming slaughter of Plataea; then, with a +last royal admonition that the defeated Xerxes shall, on his return, be +received with all ceremony and observance, and with a characteristic +warning to the aged men, that they must take such pleasures as they +may, in their waning years, he returns to the shades. The play ends +with the undignified reappearance of Xerxes, and a melancholy +procession into the palace of Susa. It was, perhaps, inevitable that +this close of the great drama should verge on the farcical, and that +the poltroonery of Xerxes should, in a measure, obscure Aeschylus’ +generous portraiture of Atossa and Darius. But his magnificent picture +of the battle of Salamis is unequalled in the poetic annals of naval +war. No account of the flight of the Armada, no record of Lepanto or +Trafalgar, can be justly set beside it. The Messenger might well, like +Prospero, announce a tragedy by one line— + +Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. + + +Five years after _The Persians_, in 467 B. C., the play which we call +the _Seven against Thebes_ was presented at Athens. It bears now a +title which Aeschylus can hardly have given to it for, though the scene +of the drama overlooks the region where the city of Thebes afterwards +came into being, yet, in the play itself, Thebes is _never_ mentioned. +The scene of action is the Cadmea, or Citadel of Cadmus, and we know +that, in Aeschylus’ lifetime, that citadel was no longer a mere +fastness, but had so grown outwards and enlarged itself that a new +name, Thebes, was applied to the collective city. (All this has been +made abundantly clear by Dr. Verrall in his Introduction to the _Seven +against Thebes_, to which every reader of the play itself will +naturally and most profitably refer.) In the time of Aeschylus, Thebes +was, of course, a notable city, his great contemporary Pindar was a +citizen of it. But the Thebes of Aeschylus’ date is one thing, the +fortress represented in Aeschylus’ play is quite another, and is never, +by him, called Thebes. That the play received, and retains, the name, +_The Seven against Thebes_, is believed to be due to two lines of +Aristophanes in his _Frogs_ (406 B.C.), where he describes Aeschylus’ +play as “the Seven against Thebes, a drama instinct with War, which any +one who beheld must have yearned to be a warrior.” This is rather an +excellent _description_ of the play than the title of it, and could not +be its Aeschylean name, for the very sufficient reason that Thebes is +not mentioned in the play at all. Aeschylus, in fact, was poetizing an +earlier legend of the fortress of Cadmus. This being premised, we may +adopt, under protest as it were, the Aristophanic name which has +accrued to the play. It is the third part of a Trilogy which might have +been called, collectively, _The House of Laius_. Sophocles and +Euripides give us _their_ versions of the legend, which we may +epitomize, without, however, affirming that they followed exactly the +lines of Aeschylus’ Trilogy—they, for instance, speak freely of +_Thebes_. Laius, King of Thebes, married Iokaste; he was warned by +Apollo that if he had any children ruin would befall his house. But a +child was born, and, to avoid the threatened catastrophe, without +actually killing the child he exposed it on Mount Cithaeron, that it +should die. Some herdsmen saved it and gave it over to the care of a +neighbouring king and queen, who reared it. Later on, learning that +there was a doubt of his parentage, this child, grown now to maturity, +left his foster parents and went to Delphi to consult the oracle, and +received a mysterious and terrible warning, that he was fated to slay +his father and wed his mother. To avoid this horror, he resolved never +to approach the home of his supposed parents. Meantime his real father, +Laius, on _his_ way to consult the god at Delphi, met his unknown son +returning from that shrine—a quarrel fell out, and the younger man slew +the elder. Followed by his evil destiny, he wandered on, and found the +now kingless Thebes in the grasp of the Sphinx monster, over whom he +triumphed, and was rewarded by the hand of Iokaste, his own mother! Not +till four children—two sons and two daughters—had been born to them, +was the secret of the lineage revealed. Iokaste slew herself in horror, +and the wretched king tore out his eyes, that he might never again see +the children of his awful union. The two sons quarrelled over the +succession, then agreed on a compromise; then fell at variance again, +and finally slew each other in single combat. These two sons, according +to one tradition, were twins: but the more usual view is that the elder +was called Eteocles, the younger, Polynices. + +To the point at which the internecine enmity between Eteocles and +Polynices arose, we have had to follow Sophocles and Euripides, the +first two parts of Aeschylus’ Trilogy being lost. But the third part, +as we have said, survives under the name given to it by Aristophanes, +the _Seven against Thebes_: it opens with an exhortation by Eteocles to +his Cadmeans that they should “quit them like men” against the +onslaught of Polynices and his Argive allies: the Chorus is a bevy of +scared Cadmean maidens, to whom the very sound of war and tramp of +horsemen are new and terrific. It ends with the news of the death of +the two princes, and the lamentations of their two sisters, Antigone +and Ismene. The onslaught from without has been repulsed, but the male +line of the house of Laius is extinct. The Cadmeans resolve that +Eteocles shall be buried in honour, and Polynices flung to the dogs and +birds. Against the latter sentence Antigone protests, and defies the +decree: the Chorus, as is natural, are divided in their sentiments. + +It is interesting to note that, in combination with the _Laius_ and the +_Oedipus_, this play won the dramatic crown in 467 B.C. On the other +hand, so excellent a judge as Mr. Gilbert Murray thinks that it is +“perhaps among Aeschylus’ plays the one that bears least the stamp of +commanding genius.” Perhaps the daring, practically atheistic, +character of Eteocles; the battle-fever that burns and thrills through +the play; the pathetic terror of the Chorus—may have given it favour, +in Athenian eyes, as the work of a poet who—though recently (468 B.C.) +defeated in the dramatic contest by the young Sophocles—was yet present +to tell, not by mere report, the tale of Marathon and Salamis. Or the +preceding plays, the _Laius_ and the _Oedipus_, may have been of such +high merit as to make up for defects observable in the one that still +survives. In any case, we can hardly err in accepting Dr. Verral’s +judgment that “the story of Aeschylus may be, and in the outlines +probably is, the genuine epic legend of the Cadmean war.” + +There remains one Aeschylean play, the most famous—unless we except the +_Agamemnon_—in extant Greek literature, the _Prometheus Bound_. That it +was the first of a Trilogy, and that the second and third parts were +called the _Prometheus Freed_, and _Prometheus the Fire-Bearer_, +respectively, is accepted: but the date of its performance is unknown. + +The _Prometheus Bound_ is conspicuous for its gigantic and strictly +superhuman plot. The _Agamemnon_ is human, though legendary the +_Prometheus_ presents to us the gods of Olympus in the days when +mankind crept like emmets upon the earth or dwelt in caves, scorned by +Zeus and the other powers of heaven, and—still aided by Prometheus the +Titan—wholly without art or science, letters or handicrafts. For his +benevolence towards oppressed mankind, Prometheus is condemned by Zeus +to uncounted ages of pain and torment, shackled and impaled in a lonely +cleft of a Scythian precipice. The play opens with this act of divine +resentment enforced by the will of Zeus and by the handicraft of +Hephaestus, who is aided by two demons, impersonating Strength and +Violence. These agents of the ire of Zeus disappear after the first +scene, the rest of the play represents Prometheus in the mighty +solitude, but visited after a while by a Chorus of sea nymphs who, from +the distant depths of ocean, have heard the clang of the demons’ +hammers, and arrive, in a winged car, from the submarine palace of +their father Oceanus. To them Prometheus relates his penalty and its +cause: viz., his over tenderness to the luckless race of mankind. +Oceanus himself follows on a hippogriff, and counsels Prometheus to +submit to Zeus. But the Titan who has handled the sea nymphs with all +gentleness, receives the advice with scorn and contempt, and Oceanus +retires. But the courage which he lacks his daughters possess to the +full; they remain by Prometheus to the end, and share his fate, +literally in the crack of doom. But before the end, the strange half +human figure of Io, victim of the lust of Zeus and the jealousy of +Hera, comes wandering by, and tells Prometheus of her wrongs. He, by +his divine power, recounts to her not only the past but also the future +of her wanderings. Then, in a fresh access of frenzy, she drifts away +into the unknown world. Then Prometheus partly reveals to the sea +maidens his secret, and the mysterious cause of Zeus’ hatred against +him—a cause which would avail to hurl the tyrant from his power. So +deadly is this secret, that Zeus will, in the lapse of ages, be forced +to reconcile himself with Prometheus, to escape dethronement. Finally, +Hermes, the messenger of Zeus, appears with fresh threats, that he may +extort the mystery from the Titan. But Prometheus is firm, defying both +the tyrant and his envoy, though already the lightning is flashing, the +thunder rolling, and sky and sea are mingling their fury. Hermes can +say no more; the sea nymphs resolutely refuse to retire, and wait their +doom. In this crash of the world, Prometheus flings his final defiance +against Zeus, and amid the lightnings and shattered rocks that are +overwhelming him and his companions, speaks his last word, “_It is +unjust!_” + +Any spectacular representation of this finale must, it is clear, have +roused intense sympathy with the Titan and the nymphs alike. If, +however, the sequel-plays had survived to us, we might conceivably have +found and realized another and less intolerable solution. The name +_Zeus_, in Greek, like that of _God_, in English, comprises very +diverse views of divine personality. The Zeus in the _Prometheus_ has +little but the name in common with the Zeus in the first chorus of the +_Agamemnon_, or in _The Suppliant Maidens_ (ll. 86-103): and parallel +reflections will give us much food for thought. But, in any case, let +us realize that the _Prometheus_ is not a human play: with the possible +exception of Io, every character in it is an immortal being. It is not +as a vaunt, but as a fact, that Prometheus declares, as against Zeus +(l. 1053), that “Me at least He shall never give to death.” + +A stupendous theological drama of which two-thirds has been lost has +left an aching void, which now can never be filled, in our minds. No +reader of poetry needs to be reminded of the glorious attempt of +Shelley to work out a possible and worthy sequel to the _Prometheus_. +Who will not echo the words of Mr. Gilbert Murray, when he says that +“no piece of lost literature has been more ardently longed for than the +_Prometheus Freed_”? + +But, at the end of a rather prolonged attempt to understand and +translate the surviving tragedies of Aeschylus, one feels inclined to +repeat the words used by a powerful critic about one of the greatest of +modern poets—“For man, it is a weary way to God, but a wearier far to +any demigod.” We shall not discover the full sequel of Aeschylus’ +mighty dramatic conception: we “know in part, and we prophesy in part.” +The Introduction (pp. xvi.-xviii.) prefixed by Mr. A. O. Prickard to +his edition of the _Prometheus_ is full of persuasive grace, on this +topic: to him, and to Dr. Verrall of Cambridge—_lucida sidera_ of help +and encouragement in the study of Aeschylus—the translator’s thanks are +due, and are gratefully and affectionately rendered. + + E. D. A. M. + + + + +THE SUPPLIANT MAIDENS + +DEDICATION + + +Take thou this gift from out the grave of Time. +The urns of Greece lie shattered, and the cup +That for Athenian lips the Muses filled, +And flowery crowns that on Athenian hair +Hid the cicala, freedom’s golden sign, +Dust in the dust have fallen. Calmly sad, +The marble dead upon Athenian tombs +Speak from their eyes “Farewell”: and well have fared +They and the saddened friends, whose clasping hands +Win from the solemn stone eternity. +Yea, well they fared unto the evening god, +Passing beyond the limit of the world, +Where face to face the son his mother saw, +A living man a shadow, while she spake +Words that Odysseus and that Homer heard,— +_I too, O child, I reached the common doom, +The grave, the goal of fate, and passed away_. +—Such, Anticleia, as thy voice to him, +Across the dim gray gulf of death and time +Is that of Greece, a mother’s to a child,— +Mother of each whose dreams are grave and fair— +Who sees the Naiad where the streams are bright +And in the sunny ripple of the sea +Cymodoce with floating golden hair: +And in the whisper of the waving oak +Hears still the Dryad’s plaint, and, in the wind +That sighs through moonlit woodlands, knows the horn +Of Artemis, and silver shafts and bow. +Therefore if still around this broken vase, +Borne by rough hands, unworthy of their load, +Far from Cephisus and the wandering rills, +There cling a fragrance as of things once sweet, +Of honey from Hymettus’ desert hill, +Take thou the gift and hold it close and dear; +For gifts that die have living memories— +Voices of unreturning days, that breathe +The spirit of a day that never dies. + + +ARGUMENT + +Io, the daughter of Inachus, King of Argos, was beloved of Zeus. But +Hera was jealous of that love, and by her ill will was Io given over to +frenzy, and her body took the semblance of a heifer: and Argus, a +many-eyed herdsman, was set by Hera to watch Io whithersoever she +strayed. Yet, in despite of Argus, did Zeus draw nigh unto her in the +shape of a bull. And by the will of Zeus and the craft of Hermes was +Argus slain. Then Io was driven over far lands and seas by her madness, +and came at length to the land of Egypt. There was she restored to +herself by a touch of the hand of Zeus, and bare a child called +Epaphus. And from Epaphus sprang Libya, and from Libya, Belus; and from +Belus, Aegyptus and Danaus. And the sons of Aegyptus willed to take the +daughters of Danaus in marriage. But the maidens held such wedlock in +horror, and fled with their father over the sea to Argos; and the king +and citizens of Argos gave them shelter and protection from their +pursuers. + + + + +THE SUPPLIANT MAIDENS + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +DANAUS. +THE KING OF ARGOS. +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + +_Chorus of the Daughters of Danaus. +Attendants_. + +_Scene.—A sacred precinct near the gates of Argos: statue and shrines +of Zeus and other deities stand around_. + + +CHORUS. +Zeus! Lord and guard of suppliant hands! + Look down benign on us who crave + Thine aid—whom winds and waters drave +From where, through drifting shifting sands, + Pours Nilus to the wave. +From where the green land, god-possest, +Closes and fronts the Syrian waste, +We flee as exiles, yet unbanned +By murder’s sentence from our land; +But—since Aegyptus had decreed +His sons should wed his brother’s seed,— +Ourselves we tore from bonds abhorred, +From wedlock not of heart but hand, +Nor brooked to call a kinsman lord! + +And Danaus, our sire and guide, +The king of counsel, pond’ring well +The dice of fortune as they fell, +Out of two griefs the kindlier chose, +And bade us fly, with him beside, +Heedless what winds or waves arose, +And o’er the wide sea waters haste, +Until to Argos’ shore at last + Our wandering pinnace came— +Argos, the immemorial home +Of her from whom we boast to come— +Io, the ox-horned maiden, whom, +After long wandering, woe, and scathe, +Zeus with a touch, a mystic breath, + Made mother of our name. +Therefore, of all the lands of earth, +On this most gladly step we forth, +And in our hands aloft we bear— +Sole weapon for a suppliant’s wear— +The olive-shoot, with wool enwound! + City, and land, and waters wan +Of Inachus, and gods most high, +And ye who, deep beneath the ground, +Bring vengeance weird on mortal man, +Powers of the grave, on you we cry! +And unto Zeus the Saviour, guard +Of mortals’ holy purity! +Receive ye us—keep watch and ward +Above the suppliant maiden band! +Chaste be the heart of this your land +Towards the weak! but, ere the throng, +The wanton swarm, from Egypt sprung, +Leap forth upon the silted shore, +Thrust back their swift-rowed bark again, +Repel them, urge them to the main! +And there, ’mid storm and lightning’s shine, +And scudding drift and thunder’s roar, +Deep death be theirs, in stormy brine! +Before they foully grasp and win +Us, maiden-children of their kin, +And climb the couch by law denied, +And wrong each weak reluctant bride. + And now on her I call, + +Mine ancestress, who far on Egypt’s shore + A young cow’s semblance wore,— +A maiden once, by Hera’s malice changed! + And then on him withal, +Who, as amid the flowers the grazing creature ranged, +Was in her by a breath of Zeus conceived; + And, as the hour of birth drew nigh, +By fate fulfilled, unto the light he came; + And Epaphus for name, +Born from the touch of Zeus, the child received. + On him, on him I cry, + And him for patron hold— + While in this grassy vale I stand, + Where Io roamed of old! +And here, recounting all her toil and pain, +Signs will I show to those who rule the land +That I am child of hers; and all shall understand, +Hearing the doubtful tale of the dim past made plain. + And, ere the end shall be, +Each man the truth of what I tell shall see. + And if there dwell hard by +One skilled to read from bird-notes augury, +That man, when through his ears shall thrill our tearful wail, +Shall deem he hears the voice, the plaintive tale +Of her, the piteous spouse of Tereus, lord of guile— +Whom the hawk harries yet, the mourning nightingale. +She, from her happy home and fair streams scared away, + Wails wild and sad for haunts beloved erewhile. + Yea, and for Itylus—ah, well-a-day! + Slain by her own, his mother’s hand, +Maddened by lustful wrong, the deed by Tereus planned. +Like her I wail and wail, in soft Ionian tones, + And as she wastes, even so +Wastes my soft cheek, once ripe with Nilus’ suns +And all my heart dissolves in utter woe + Sad flowers of grief I cull, + +Fleeing from kinsmen’s love unmerciful— +Yea, from the clutching hands, the wanton crowd, +I sped across the waves, from Egypt’s land of cloud[1] + + Gods of the ancient cradle of my race, + Hear me, just gods! With righteous grace + On me, on me look down! + Grant not to youth its heart’s unchaste desire, + But, swiftly spurning lust’s unholy fire, + Bless only love and willing wedlock’s crown + The war-worn fliers from the battle’s wrack + Find refuge at the hallowed altar-side, + The sanctuary divine,— + Ye gods! such refuge unto me provide— + Such sanctuary be mine! + Though the deep will of Zeus be hard to track, + Yet doth it flame and glance, + A beacon in the dark, ’mid clouds of chance + That wrap mankind + Yea, though the counsel fall, undone it shall not be, + Whate’er be shaped and fixed within Zeus’ ruling mind— + Dark as a solemn grove, with sombre leafage shaded, + His paths of purpose wind, + A marvel to man’s eye + + Smitten by him, from towering hopes degraded, + Mortals lie low and still + Tireless and effortless, works forth its will + The arm divine! + God from His holy seat, in calm of unarmed power, + Brings forth the deed, at its appointed hour! + Let Him look down on mortal wantonness! + Lo! how the youthful stock of Belus’ line + Craves for me, uncontrolled— + With greed and madness bold— + Urged on by passion’s sunless stress— + And, cheated, learns too late the prey has ’scaped their hold! + Ah, listen, listen to my grievous tale, + My sorrow’s words, my shrill and tearful cries! + Ah woe, ah woe! + Loud with lament the accents use, + And from my living lips my own sad dirges flow! + O Apian land of hill and dale, + Thou kennest yet, O land, this faltered foreign wail— + Have mercy, hear my prayer! + Lo, how again, again, I rend and tear + My woven raiment, and from off my hair + Cast the Sidonian veil! + + Ah, but if fortune smile, if death be driven away, + Vowed rites, with eager haste, we to the gods will pay! + Alas, alas again! + O wither drift the waves? and who shall loose the pain? + + O Apian land of hill and dale, + Thou kennest yet, O land, this faltered foreign wail! + Have mercy, hear my prayer! + Lo, how again, again, I rend and tear + My woven raiment, and from off my hair + Cast the Sidonian veil! + + The wafting oar, the bark with woven sail, + From which the sea foamed back, + Sped me, unharmed of storms, along the breeze’s track— + Be it unblamed of me! + But ah, the end, the end of my emprise! + May He, the Father, with all-seeing eyes, + Grant me that end to see! + Grant that henceforth unstained as heretofore + I may escape the forced embrace + Of those proud children of the race + That sacred Io bore. + + And thou, O maiden-goddess chaste and pure— + Queen of the inner fane,— + Look of thy grace on me, O Artemis, + Thy willing suppliant—thine, thine it is, + Who from the lustful onslaught fled secure, + To grant that I too without stain + The shelter of thy purity may gain! + + Grant that henceforth unstained as heretofore + I may escape the forced embrace + Of those proud children of the race + That sacred Io bore! + + Yet if this may not be, + We, the dark race sun-smitten, we + Will speed with suppliant wands + To Zeus who rules below, with hospitable hands + Who welcomes all the dead from all the lands: + Yea by our own hands strangled, we will go, + Spurned by Olympian gods, unto the gods below! + + Zeus, hear and save! + The searching, poisonous hate, that Io vexed and drave, + Was of a goddess: well I know + The bitter ire, the wrathful woe + Of Hera, queen of heaven— + A storm, a storm her breath, whereby we yet are driven! + Bethink thee, what dispraise + Of Zeus himself mankind will raise, + If now he turn his face averted from our cries! + If now, dishonoured and alone, + The ox-horned maiden’s race shall be undone, + Children of Epaphus, his own begotten son— + Zeus, listen from on high!—to thee our prayers arise. + + Zeus, hear and save! + The searching poisonous hate, that Io vexed and drave, + Was of a goddess: well I know + The bitter ire, the wrathful woe + Of Hera, queen of heaven— + A storm, a storm her breath, whereby we yet are driven! + +DANAUS. + Children, be wary—wary he with whom + Ye come, your trusty sire and steersman old: + And that same caution hold I here on land, + And bid you hoard my words, inscribing them + On memory’s tablets. Lo, I see afar + Dust, voiceless herald of a host, arise; + And hark, within their grinding sockets ring + Axles of hurrying wheels! I see approach, + Borne in curved cars, by speeding horses drawn, + A speared and shielded band. The chiefs, perchance, + Of this their land are hitherward intent + To look on us, of whom they yet have heard + By messengers alone. But come who may, + And come he peaceful or in ravening wrath + Spurred on his path, ’twere best, in any case, + Damsels, to cling unto this altar-mound + Made sacred to their gods of festival,— + A shrine is stronger than a tower to save, + A shield that none may cleave. Step swift thereto, + And in your left hands hold with reverence + The white-crowned wands of suppliance, the sign + Beloved of Zeus, compassion’s lord, and speak + To those that question you, words meek and low + And piteous, as beseems your stranger state, + Clearly avowing of this flight of yours + The bloodless cause; and on your utterance + See to it well that modesty attend; + From downcast eyes, from brows of pure control, + Let chastity look forth; nor, when ye speak, + Be voluble nor eager—they that dwell + Within this land are sternly swift to chide. + And be your words submissive: heed this well; + For weak ye are, outcasts on stranger lands, + And froward talk beseems not strengthless hands. + +CHORUS. + O father, warily to us aware + Thy words are spoken, and thy wisdom’s best + My mind shall hoard, with Zeus our sire to aid. + +DANAUS. + Even so—with gracious aspect let him aid. + +CHORUS. + Fain were I now to seat me by thy side. + +DANAUS. + Now dally not, but put our thought in act. + +CHORUS. + Zeus, pity our distress, or e’er we die. + +DANAUS. + If so he will, your toils to joy will turn. + +CHORUS. + Lo, on this shrine, the semblance of a bird.[2] + +DANAUS. + Zeus’ bird of dawn it is; invoke the sign. + +CHORUS. + Thus I invoke the saving rays of morn. + +DANAUS. + Next, bright Apollo, exiled once from heaven. + +CHORUS. + The exiled god will pity our exile. + +DANAUS. + Yea, may he pity, giving grace and aid. + +CHORUS. + Whom next invoke I, of these other gods? + +DANAUS. + Lo, here a trident, symbol of a god. + +CHORUS. + Who[3] gave sea-safety; may he bless on land! + +DANAUS. + This next is Hermes, carved in Grecian wise. + +CHORUS. + Then let him herald help to freedom won. + +DANAUS. + Lastly, adore this altar consecrate + To many lesser gods in one; then crouch + On holy ground, a flock of doves that flee, + Scared by no alien hawks, a kin not kind, + Hateful, and fain of love more hateful still. + Foul is the bird that rends another bird, + And foul the men who hale unwilling maids, + From sire unwilling, to the bridal bed. + Never on earth, nor in the lower world, + Shall lewdness such as theirs escape the ban: + There too, if men say right, a God there is + Who upon dead men turns their sin to doom, + To final doom. Take heed, draw hitherward, + That from this hap your safety ye may win. + + Enter the KING OF ARGOS. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Speak—of what land are ye? No Grecian band + Is this to whom I speak, with Eastern robes + And wrappings richly dight: no Argive maid, + No woman in all Greece such garb doth wear. + This too gives marvel, how unto this land, + Unheralded, unfriended, without guide, + And without fear, ye came? yet wands I see, + True sign of suppliance, by you laid down + On shrines of these our gods of festival. + No land but Greece can read such signs aright. + Much else there is, conjecture well might guess, + But let words teach the man who stands to hear. + +CHORUS. + True is the word thou spakest of my garb; + But speak I unto thee as citizen, + Or Hermes’ wandbearer, or chieftain king? + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + For that, take heart and answer without fear. + I am Pelasgus, ruler of this land, + Child of Palaichthon, whom the earth brought forth; + And, rightly named from me, the race who reap + This country’s harvests are Pelasgian called. + And o’er the wide and westward-stretching land, + Through which the lucent wave of Strymon flows + I rule; Perrhaebia’s land my boundary is + Northward, and Pindus’ further slopes, that watch + Paeonia, and Dodona’s mountain ridge. + West, east, the limit of the washing seas + Restrains my rule—the interspace is mine. + But this whereon we stand is Apian land, + Styled so of old from the great healer’s name; + For Apis, coming from Naupactus’ shore + Beyond the strait, child of Apollo’s self + And like him seer and healer, cleansed this land + From man-devouring monsters, whom the earth, + Stained with pollution of old bloodshedding, + Brought forth in malice, beasts of ravening jaws, + A grisly throng of serpents manifold. + And healings of their hurt, by knife and charm, + Apis devised, unblamed of Argive men, + And in their prayers found honour, for reward. + —Lo, thou hast heard the tokens that I give: + Speak now thy race, and tell a forthright tale; + In sooth, this people loves not many words. + +CHORUS. + Short is my word and clear. Of Argive race + We come, from her, the ox-horned maiden who + Erst bare the sacred child. My word shall give + Whate’er can ’stablish this my soothfast tale. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + O stranger maids, I may not trust this word, + That ye have share in this our Argive race. + No likeness of our country do ye bear, + But semblance as of Libyan womankind. + Even such a stock by Nilus’ banks might grow; + Yea and the Cyprian stamp, in female forms, + Shows to the life, what males impressed the same. + And, furthermore, of roving Indian maids + Whose camping-grounds by Aethiopia lie, + And camels burdened even as mules, and bearing + Riders, as horses bear, mine ears have heard; + And tales of flesh-devouring mateless maids + Called Amazons: to these, if bows ye bare, + I most had deemed you like. Speak further yet, + That of your Argive birth the truth I learn. + +CHORUS. + Here in this Argive land—so runs the tale— + Io was priestess once of Hera’s fane. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Yea, truth it is, and far this word prevails: + Is’t said that Zeus with mortal mingled love? + +CHORUS. + Ay, and that Hera that embrace surmised. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + How issued then this strife of those on high? + +CHORUS. + By Hera’s will, a heifer she became. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Held Zeus aloof then from the horned beast? + +CHORUS. + ’Tis said, he loved, in semblance of a bull. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + And his stern consort, did she aught thereon? + +CHORUS. + One myriad-eyed she set, the heifer’s guard. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + How namest thou this herdsman many-eyed? + +CHORUS. + Argus, the child of Earth, whom Hermes slew. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Still did the goddess vex the beast ill-starred? + +CHORUS. + She wrought a gadfly with a goading sting. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Thus drave she Io hence, to roam afar? + +CHORUS. + Yea—this thy word coheres exact with mine. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Then to Canopus and to Memphis came she? + +CHORUS. + And by Zeus’ hand was touched, and bare a child. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Who vaunts him the Zeus-mated creature’s son? + +CHORUS. + Epaphus, named rightly from the saving touch. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + And whom in turn did Epaphus beget?[4] + +CHORUS. + Libya, with name of a wide land endowed. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + And who from her was born unto the race? + +CHORUS. + Belus: from him two sons, my father one. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Speak now to me his name, this greybeard wise. + +CHORUS. + Revere the gods thus crowned, who steer the State. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Awe thrills me, seeing these shrines with leafage crowned. + +CHORUS. + Yea, stern the wrath of Zeus, the suppliants’ lord. + Child of Palaichthon, royal chief + Of thy Pelasgians, hear! + Bow down thine heart to my relief— + A fugitive, a suppliant, swift with fear, + A creature whom the wild wolves chase + O’er toppling crags; in piteous case + Aloud, afar she lows, + Calling the herdsman’s trusty arm to save her from her foes! + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Lo, with bowed heads beside our city shrines + Ye sit ’neath shade of new-plucked olive-boughs. + Our distant kin’s resentment Heaven forefend! + Let not this hap, unhoped and unforeseen, + Bring war on us: for strife we covet not. + +CHORUS. + Justice, the daughter of right-dealing Zeus, + Justice, the queen of suppliants, look down, + That this our plight no ill may loose + Upon your town! + This word, even from the young, let age and wisdom learn: + If thou to suppliants show grace, + Thou shalt not lack Heaven’s grace in turn, + So long as virtue’s gifts on heavenly shrines have place. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Not at my private hearth ye sit and sue; + And if the city bear a common stain, + Be it the common toil to cleanse the same: + Therefore no pledge, no promise will I give, + Ere counsel with the commonwealth be held. + +CHORUS. + Nay, but the source of sway, the city’s self, art thou, + A power unjudged! thine, only thine, + To rule the right of hearth and shrine! + Before thy throne and sceptre all men bow! + Thou, in all causes lord, beware the curse divine! + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + May that curse fall upon mine enemies! + I cannot aid you without risk of scathe, + Nor scorn your prayers—unmerciful it were. + Perplexed, distraught I stand, and fear alike + The twofold chance, to do or not to do. + +CHORUS. + Have heed of him who looketh from on high, + The guard of woeful mortals, whosoe’er + Unto their fellows cry, + And find no pity, find no justice there. + Abiding in his wrath, the suppliants’ lord + Doth smite, unmoved by cries, unbent by prayerful word. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + But if Aegyptus’ children grasp you here, + Claiming, their country’s right, to hold you theirs + As next of kin, who dares to counter this? + Plead ye your country’s laws, if plead ye may, + That upon you they lay no lawful hand. + +CHORUS. + Let me not fall, O nevermore, + A prey into the young men’s hand; + Rather than wed whom I abhor, + By pilot-stars I flee this land; + O king, take justice to thy side, + And with the righteous powers decide! + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Hard is the cause—make me not judge thereof. + Already I have vowed it, to do nought + Save after counsel with my people ta’en, + King though I be; that ne’er in after time, + If ill fate chance, my people then may say— + _In aid of strangers thou the state hast slain_. + +CHORUS. + Zeus, lord of kinship, rules at will + The swaying balance, and surveys + Evil and good; to men of ill + Gives evil, and to good men praise. + And thou—since true those scales do sway— + Shall thou from justice shrink away? + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + A deep, a saving counsel here there needs— + An eye that like a diver to the depth + Of dark perplexity can pass and see, + Undizzied, unconfused. First must we care + That to the State and to ourselves this thing + Shall bring no ruin; next, that wrangling hands + Shall grasp you not as prey, nor we ourselves + Betray you thus embracing sacred shrines, + Nor make the avenging all-destroying god, + Who not in hell itself sets dead men free, + A grievous inmate, an abiding bane.— + Spake I not right, of saving counsel’s need? + +CHORUS. + Yea, counsel take and stand to aid + At Justice’ side and mine. + Betray not me, the timorous maid + Whom far beyond the brine + A godless violence cast forth forlorn. + O King, wilt thou behold— + Lord of this land, wilt thou behold me torn + From altars manifold? + Bethink thee of the young men’s wrath and lust, + Hold off their evil pride; + Steel not thyself to see the suppliant thrust + From hallowed statues’ side, + Haled by the frontlet on my forehead bound, + As steeds are led, and drawn + By hands that drag from shrine and altar-mound + My vesture’s fringed lawn. + Know thou that whether for Aegyptus’ race + Thou dost their wish fulfil, + Or for the gods and for each holy place— + Be thy choice good or ill, + Blow is with blow requited, grace with grace + Such is Zeus’ righteous will. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Yea, I have pondered: from the sea of doubt + Here drives at length the bark of thought ashore; + Landward with screw and windlass haled, and firm, + Clamped to her props, she lies. The need is stern; + With men or gods a mighty strife we strive + Perforce, and either hap in grief concludes. + For, if a house be sacked, new wealth for old + Not hard it is to win—if Zeus the lord + Of treasure favour—more than quits the loss, + Enough to pile the store of wealth full high; + Or if a tongue shoot forth untimely speech, + Bitter and strong to goad a man to wrath, + Soft words there be to soothe that wrath away: + But what device shall make the war of kin + Bloodless? that woe, the blood of many beasts, + And victims manifold to many gods, + Alone can cure. Right glad I were to shun + This strife, and am more fain of ignorance + Than of the wisdom of a woe endured. + The gods send better than my soul foretells! + +CHORUS. + Of many cries for mercy, hear the end. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Say on, then, for it shall not ’scape mine ear. + +CHORUS. + Girdles we have, and bands that bind our robes. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Even so; such things beseem a woman’s wear. + +CHORUS. + Know, then, with these a fair device there is— + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Speak, then: what utterance doth this foretell? + +CHORUS. + Unless to us thou givest pledge secure— + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + What can thy girdles’ craft achieve for thee? + +CHORUS. + Strange votive tablets shall these statues deck. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Mysterious thy resolve—avow it clear. + +CHORUS. + Swiftly to hang me on these sculptured gods! + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Thy word is as a lash to urge my heart. + +CHORUS. + Thou seest truth, for I have cleared thine eye + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Yea, and woes manifold, invincible, + A crowd of ills, sweep on me torrent-like. + My bark goes forth upon a sea of troubles + Unfathomed, ill to traverse, harbourless. + For if my deed shall match not your demand, + Dire, beyond shot of speech, shall be the bane + Your death’s pollution leaves unto this land. + Yet if against your kin, Aegyptus’ race, + Before our gates I front the doom of war, + Will not the city’s loss be sore? Shall men + For women’s sake incarnadine the ground? + But yet the wrath of Zeus, the suppliants’ lord + I needs must fear: most awful unto man + The terror of his anger. Thou, old man, + The father of these maidens, gather up + Within your arms these wands of suppliance, + And lay them at the altars manifold + Of all our country’s gods, that all the town + Know, by this sign, that ye come here to sue. + Nor, in thy haste, do thou say aught of me. + Swift is this folk to censure those who rule; + But, if they see these signs of suppliance, + It well may chance that each will pity you, + And loathe the young men’s violent pursuit; + And thus a fairer favour you may find: + For, to the helpless, each man’s heart is kind. + +DANAUS. + To us, beyond gifts manifold it is + To find a champion thus compassionate; + Yet send with me attendants, of thy folk, + Rightly to guide me, that I duly find + Each altar of your city’s gods that stands + Before the fane, each dedicated shrine; + And that in safety through the city’s ways + I may pass onwards: all unlike to yours + The outward semblance that I wear—the race + that Nilus rears is all dissimilar + That of Inachus. Keep watch and ward + Lest heedlessness bring death: full oft, I ween, + Friend hath slain friend, not knowing whom he slew. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Go at his side, attendants,—he saith well. + On to the city’s consecrated shrines! + Nor be of many words to those ye meet, + The while this suppliant voyager ye lead. + + [_Exit DANAUS with attendants._] + +CHORUS. + Let him go forward, thy command obeying. + But me how biddest, how assurest thou? + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Leave there the new-plucked boughs, thy sorrow’s sign. + +CHORUS. + Thus beckoned forth, at thy behest I leave them. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Now to this level precinct turn thyself. + +CHORUS. + Unconsecrate it is, and cannot shield me. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + We will not yield thee to those falcons’ greed. + +CHORUS. + What help? more fierce they are than serpents fell. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + We spake thee fair—speak thou them fair in turn. + +CHORUS. + What marvel that we loathe them, scared in soul? + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Awe towards a king should other fears transcend. + +CHORUS. + Thus speak, thus act, and reassure my mind. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. +Not long thy sire shall leave thee desolate. +But I will call the country’s indwellers, +And with soft words th’ assembly will persuade, +And warn your sire what pleadings will avail. +Therefore abide ye, and with prayer entreat +The country’s gods to compass your desire; +The while I go, this matter to provide, +Persuasion and fair fortune at my side. + + [_Exit the KING OF ARGOS._] + +CHORUS. + O King of Kings, among the blest + Thou highest and thou happiest, + Listen and grant our prayer, + And, deeply loathing, thrust + Away from us the young men’s lust, + And deeply drown + In azure waters, down and ever down, + Benches and rowers dark, + The fatal and perfidious bark! + Unto the maidens turn thy gracious care; + Think yet again upon the tale of fame, + How from the maiden loved of thee there sprung + Mine ancient line, long since in many a legend sung! + Remember, O remember, thou whose hand + Did Io by a touch to human shape reclaim. + For from this Argos erst our mother came + Driven hence to Egypt’s land, + Yet sprung of Zeus we were, and hence our birth we claim. + And now have I roamed back + Unto the ancient track + Where Io roamed and pastured among flowers, + Watched o’er by Argus’ eyes, + Through the lush grasses and the meadow bowers. + Thence, by the gadfly maddened, forth she flies + Unto far lands and alien peoples driven + And, following fate, through paths of foam and surge, + Sees, as she goes, the cleaving strait divide + Greece, from the Eastland riven. + And swift through Asian borders doth she urge + Her course, o’er Phrygian mountains’ sheep-clipt side; + Thence, where the Mysian realm of Teuthras lies + Towards Lydian lowlands hies, + And o’er Cilician and Pamphylian hills + And ever-flowing rills, + And thence to Aphrodite’s fertile shore,[5] + The land of garnered wheat and wealthy store + And thence, deep-stung by wild unrest, + By the winged fly that goaded her and drave, + Unto the fertile land, the god-possest, + (Where, fed from far-off snows, + Life-giving Nilus flows, + Urged on by Typho’s strength, a fertilizing wave) + She roves, in harassed and dishonoured flight + Scathed by the blasting pangs of Hera’s dread despite. + And they within the land + With terror shook and wanned, + So strange the sight they saw, and were afraid— + A wild twy-natured thing, half heifer and half maid. + Whose hand was laid at last on Io, thus forlorn, + With many roamings worn? + Who bade the harassed maiden’s peace return? + Zeus, lord of time eterne. + Yea, by his breath divine, by his unscathing strength, + She lays aside her bane, + And softened back to womanhood at length + Sheds human tears again. + Then, quickened with Zeus’ veritable seed, + A progeny she bare, + A stainless babe, a child of heavenly breed. + Of life and fortune fair. + _His is the life of life_—so all men say,— + _His is the seed of Zeus. + Who else had power stern Hera’s craft to stay, + Her vengeful curse to loose?_ + + Yea, all from Zeus befell! + And rightly wouldst thou tell + That we from Epaphus, his child, were born: + Justly his deed was done; + Unto what other one, + Of all the gods, should I for justice turn? + From him our race did spring; + Creator he and King, + Ancient of days and wisdom he, and might. + As bark before the wind, + So, wafted by his mind, + Moves every counsel, each device aright. + Beneath no stronger hand + Holds he a weak command, + No throne doth he abase him to adore; + Swift as a word, his deed + Acts out what stands decreed + In counsels of his heart, for evermore. + + Re-enter DANAUS. + +DANAUS. + Take heart, my children: the land’s heart is kind, + And to full issue has their voting come. + +CHORUS. + All hail, my sire; thy word brings utmost joy. + Say, to what issue is the vote made sure, + And how prevailed the people’s crowding hands? + +DANAUS. + With one assent the Argives spake their will, + And, hearing, my old heart took youthful cheer, + The very sky was thrilled when high in air + The concourse raised right hands and swore their oath:— + _Free shall the maidens sojourn in this land. + Unharried, undespoiled by mortal wight: + No native hand, no hand of foreigner + Shall drag them hence; if any man use force— + Whoe’er of all our countrymen shall fail + To come unto their aid, let him go forth, + Beneath the people’s curse, to banishment_. + So did the king of this Pelasgian folk + Plead on behalf of us, and bade them heed + That never, in the after-time, this realm + Should feed to fulness the great enmity + Of Zeus, the suppliants’ guard, against itself! + A twofold curse, for wronging stranger-guests + Who are akin withal, confrontingly + Should rise before this city and be shown + A ruthless monster, fed on human doom. + Such things the Argive people heard, and straight, + Without proclaim of herald, gave assent: + Yea, in full conclave, the Pelasgian folk + Heard suasive pleas, and Zeus through them resolved. + +CHORUS. + Arouse we now to chant our prayer + For fair return of service fair + And Argos’ kindly will. + Zeus, lord of guestright, look upon + The grace our stranger lips have won. + In right and truth, as they begun, + Guide them, with favouring hand, until + Thou dost their blameless wish fulfil! + + Now may the Zeus-born gods on high + Hear us pour forth + A votive prayer for Argos’ clan!— + Never may this Pelasgian earth, + Amid the fire-wrack, shrill the dismal cry + On Ares, ravening lord of fight, + Who in an alien harvest mows down man! + For lo, this land had pity on our plight, + And unto us were merciful and leal, + To us, the piteous flock, who at Zeus’ altar kneel! + They scornèd not the pleas of maidenhood, + Nor with the young men’s will hath their will stood. + They knew right well. + + Th’ unearthly watching fiend invincible, + The foul avenger—let him not draw near! + For he, on roofs ill-starred, + Defiling and polluting, keeps a ghastly ward! + They knew his vengeance, and took holy heed + To us, the sister suppliants, who cry + To Zeus, the lord of purity: + Therefore with altars pure they shall the gods revere. + + Thus, through the boughs that shade our lips, fly forth in air, + Fly forth, O eager prayer! + May never pestilence efface + This city’s race, + Nor be the land with corpses strewed, + Nor stained with civic blood! + The stem of youth, unpluckt, to manhood come, + Nor Ares rise from Aphrodité’s bower, + The lord of death and bane, to waste our youthful flower. + Long may the old + Crowd to the altars kindled to consume + Gifts rich and manifold— + Offered to win from powers divine + A benison on city and on shrine: + Let all the sacred might adore + Of Zeus most high, the lord + Of guestright and the hospitable board, + Whose immemorial law doth rule Fate’s scales aright: + The garners of earth’s store + Be full for evermore, + And grace of Artemis make women’s travail light; + No devastating curse of fell disease + This city seize; + No clamour of the State arouse to war + Ares, from whom afar + Shrinketh the lute, by whom the dances fail— + Ares, the lord of wail. + Swarm far aloof from Argos’ citizens + All plague and pestilence, + And may the Archer-God our children spare! + May Zeus with foison and with fruitfulness + The land’s each season bless, + And, quickened with Heaven’s bounty manifold, + Teem grazing flock and fold. + Beside the altars of Heaven’s hallowing + Loud let the minstrels sing, + And from pure lips float forth the harp-led strain in air! + And let the people’s voice, the power + That sways the State, in danger’s hour + Be wary, wise for all; + Nor honour in dishonour hold, + But—ere the voice of war be bold— + Let them to stranger peoples grant + Fair and unbloody covenant— + Justice and peace withal; + And to the Argive powers divine + The sacrifice of laurelled kine, + By rite ancestral, pay. + Among three words of power and awe, + Stands this, the third, the mighty law— + _Your gods, your fathers deified, + Ye shall adore_. Let this abide + For ever and for aye. + +DANAUS. + Dear children, well and wisely have ye prayed; + I bid you now not shudder, though ye hear + New and alarming tidings from your sire. + From this high place beside the suppliants’ shrine + The bark of our pursuers I behold, + By divers tokens recognized too well. + Lo, the spread canvas and the hides that screen + The gunwale; lo, the prow, with painted eyes + That seem her onward pathway to descry, + Heeding too well the rudder at the stern + That rules her, coming for no friendly end. + And look, the seamen—all too plain their race— + Their dark limbs gleam from out their snow-white garb; + Plain too the other barks, a fleet that comes + All swift to aid the purpose of the first, + That now, with furled sail and with pulse of oars + Which smite the wave together, comes aland. + But ye, be calm, and, schooled not scared by fear, + Confront this chance, be mindful of your trust + In these protecting gods. And I will hence, + And champions who shall plead your cause aright + Will bring unto your side. There come perchance + Heralds or envoys, eager to lay hand + And drag you captive hence; yet fear them not; + Foiled shall they be. Yet well it were for you + (If, ere with aid I come, I tarry long), + Not by one step this sanctuary to leave. + Farewell, fear nought: soon shall the hour be born + When he that scorns the gods shall rue his scorn + +CHORUS. + Ah but I shudder, father!—ah, even now, + Even as I speak, the swift-winged ships draw nigh! + + I shudder, I shiver, I perish with fear: + Overseas though I fled, + Yet nought it avails; my pursuers are near! + +DANAUS. + Children, take heart; they who decreed to aid + Thy cause will arm for battle, well I ween. + +CHORUS. + But desperate is Aegyptus’ ravening race, + With fight unsated; thou too know’st it well. + + In their wrath they o’ertake us; the prow is deep-dark + In the which they have sped, + And dark is the bench and the crew of the bark! + +DANAUS. + Yea but a crew as stout they here shall find, + And arms well steeled beneath a noon-day sun. + +CHORUS. + Ah yet, O father, leave us not forlorn! + Alone, a maid is nought, a strengthless arm. + With guile they pursue me, with counsel malign, + And unholy their soul; + And as ravens they seize me, unheeding the shrine! + +DANAUS. + Fair will befall us, children, in this chance, + If thus in wrath they wrong the gods and you. + +CHORUS. + Alas, nor tridents nor the sanctity + Of shrines will drive them, O my sire, from us! + + Unholy and daring and cursed is their ire, + Nor own they control + Of the gods, but like jackals they glut their desire! + +DANAUS. + Ay, but _Come wolf, flee jackal_, saith the saw; + Nor can the flax-plant overbear the corn. + +CHORUS. + Lustful, accursèd, monstrous is their will + As of beasts ravening—’ware we of their power! + +DANAUS. + Look you, not swiftly puts a fleet to sea, + Nor swiftly to its moorings; long it is + Or e’er the saving cables to the shore + Are borne, and long or e’er the steersmen cry, + _The good ship swings at anchor—all is well_. + Longest of all, the task to come aland + Where haven there is none, when sunset fades + In night. _To pilot wise_, the adage saith, + _Night is a day of wakefulness and pain_. + Therefore no force of weaponed men, as yet + Scatheless can come ashore, before the bank + Lie at her anchorage securely moored. + Bethink thee therefore, nor in panic leave + The shrine of gods whose succour thou hast won + I go for aid—men shall not blame me long, + Old, but with youth at heart and on my tongue. + + [_Exit DANAUS._] + +CHORUS. + O land of hill and dale, O holy land, + What shall befall us? whither shall we flee, + From Apian land to some dark lair of earth? + +O would that in vapour of smoke I might rise to the clouds of the sky, +That as dust which flits up without wings I might pass and evanish and +die! +I dare not, I dare not abide: my heart yearns, eager to fly; +And dark is the cast of my thought; I shudder and tremble for fear. +My father looked forth and beheld: I die of the sight that draws near. +And for me be the strangling cord, the halter made ready by Fate, +Before to my body draws nigh the man of my horror and hate. +Nay, ere I will own him as lord, as handmaid to Hades I go! +And oh, that aloft in the sky, where the dark clouds are frozen to +snow, +A refuge for me might be found, or a mountain-top smooth and too high +For the foot of the goat, where the vulture sits lonely, and none may +descry +The pinnacle veiled in the cloud, the highest and sheerest of all, +Ere to wedlock that rendeth my heart, and love that is loveless, I +fall! +Yea, a prey to the dogs and the birds of the mount will I give me to +be,— +From wailing and curse and pollution it is death, only death, sets me +free: +Let death come upon me before to the ravisher’s bed I am thrust; +What champion, what saviour but death can I find, or what refuge from +lust? +I will utter my shriek of entreaty, a prayer that shrills up to the +sky, +That calleth the gods to compassion, a tuneful, a pitiful cry, +That is loud to invoke the releaser. O father, look down on the fight; +Look down in thy wrath on the wronger, with eyes that are eager for +right. +Zeus, thou that art lord of the world, whose kingdom is strong over +all, +Have mercy on us! At thine altar for refuge and safety we call. +For the race of Aegyptus is fierce, with greed and with malice afire; +They cry as the questing hounds, they sweep with the speed of desire. +But thine is the balance of fate, thou rulest the wavering scale, +And without thee no mortal emprise shall have strength to achieve or +prevail. + + Alack, alack! the ravisher— + He leaps from boat to beach, he draweth near! + Away, thou plunderer accurst! + Death seize thee first, + Or e’er thou touch me—off! God, hear our cry, + Our maiden agony! + Ah, ah, the touch, the prelude of my shame. + Alas, my maiden fame! + O sister, sister, to the altar cling, + For he that seizeth me, + Grim is his wrath and stern, by land as on the sea. + Guard us, O king! + + Enter the HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Hence to my barge—step swiftly, tarry not. + +CHORUS. + Alack, he rends—he rends my hair! O wound on wound! + Help! my lopped head will fall, my blood gush o’er the ground! + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Aboard, ye cursèd—with a new curse, go! + +CHORUS. + Would God that on the wand’ring brine + Thou and this braggart tongue of thine + Had sunk beneath the main— + Thy mast and planks, made fast in vain! + Thee would I drive aboard once more, + A slayer and a dastard, from the shore! + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Be still, thou vain demented soul; + My force thy craving shall control. + Away, aboard! What, clingest to the shrine? + Away! this city’s gods I hold not for divine. + +CHORUS. + Aid me, ye gods, that never, never + I may again behold + The mighty, the life-giving river, + Nilus, the quickener of field and fold! + Alack, O sire, unto the shrine I cling— + Shrine of this land from which mine ancient line did spring! + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Shrines, shrines, forsooth!—the ship, the ship be shrine! + Aboard, perforce and will-ye nill-ye, go! + Or e’er from hands of mine + Ye suffer torments worse and blow on blow. + +CHORUS. + Alack, God grant those hands may strive in vain + With the salt-streaming wave, + When ’gainst the wide-blown blasts thy bark shall strain + To round Sarpedon’s cape, the sandbank’s treach’rous grave. + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Shrill ye and shriek unto what gods ye may, + Ye shall not leap from out Aegyptus’ bark, + How bitterly soe’er ye wail your woe. + +CHORUS. + Alack, alack my wrong! + Stern is thy voice, thy vaunting loud and strong. + Thy sire, the mighty Nilus, drive thee hence + Turning to death and doom thy greedy violence! + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Swift to the vessel of the double prow, + Go quickly! let none linger, else this hand + Ruthless will hale you by your tresses hence. + +CHORUS. + Alack, O father! from the shrine + Not aid but agony is mine. + As a spider he creeps and he clutches his prey, + And he hales me away. + A spectre of darkness, of darkness. Alas and alas! well-a-day! + O Earth, O my mother! O Zeus, thou king of the earth, and her child! + Turn back, we pray thee, from us his clamour and threatenings wild! + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Peace! I fear not this country’s deities. + They fostered not my childhood nor mine age. + +CHORUS. + Like a snake that is human he comes, he shudders and crawls to my + side; + As an adder that biteth the foot, his clutch on my flesh doth abide. + O Earth, O my mother! O Zeus, thou king of the earth, and her child! + Turn back, we pray thee, from us his clamour and threatenings wild! + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Swift each unto the ship; repine no more, + Or my hand shall not spare to rend your robe. + +CHORUS. + O chiefs, O leaders, aid me, or I yield! + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Peace! if ye have not ears to hear my words, + Lo, by these tresses must I hale you hence. + +CHORUS. + Undone we are, O king! all hope is gone. + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Ay, kings enow ye shall behold anon, + Aegyptus’ sons—Ye shall not want for kings. + + Enter the KING OF ARGOS. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Sirrah, what dost thou? in what arrogance + Darest thou thus insult Pelasgia’s realm? + Deemest thou this a woman-hearted town? + Thou art too full of thy barbarian scorn + For us of Grecian blood, and, erring thus, + Thou dost bewray thyself a fool in all! + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Say thou wherein my deeds transgress my right. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + First, that thou play’st a stranger’s part amiss. + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Wherein? I do but search and claim mine own. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + To whom of our guest-champions hast appealed? + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + To Hermes, herald’s champion, lord of search. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Yea, to a god—yet dost thou wrong the gods! + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + The gods that rule by Nilus I revere. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Hear I aright? our Argive gods are nought? + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + The prey is mine, unless force rend it from me. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + At thine own peril touch them—’ware, and soon! + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + I hear thy speech, no hospitable word. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + I am no host for sacrilegious hands. + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + I will go tell this to Aegyptus’ sons. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Tell it! my pride will ponder not thy word. + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Yet, that I have my message clear to say + (For it behooves that heralds’ words be clear, + Be they or ill or good), how art thou named? + By whom despoilèd of this sister-band + Of maidens pass I homeward?—speak and say! + For lo, henceforth in Ares’ court we stand, + Who judges not by witness but by war: + No pledge of silver now can bring the cause + To issue: ere this thing end, there must be + Corpse piled on corpse and many lives gasped forth. + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + What skills it that I tell my name to thee? + Thou and thy mates shall learn it ere the end. + Know that if words unstained by violence + Can change these maidens’ choice, then mayest thou, + With full consent of theirs, conduct them hence. + But thus the city with one voice ordained— + + _No force shall bear away the maiden band_. + + Firmly this word upon the temple wall + Is by a rivet clenched, and shall abide: + Not upon wax inscribed and delible, + Nor upon parchment sealed and stored away.— + Lo, thou hast heard our free mouths speak their will: + Out from our presence—tarry not, but go! + +HERALD OF AEGYPTUS. + Methinks we stand on some new edge of war: + Be strength and triumph on the young men’s side! + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + Nay but here also shall ye find young men, + Unsodden with the juices oozed from grain.[6] + + [_Exit HERALD OF AEGYPTUS._] + + + But ye, O maids, with your attendants true, + Pass hence with trust into the fencèd town, + Ringed with a wide confine of guarding towers. + Therein are many dwellings for such guests + As the State honours; there myself am housed + Within a palace neither scant nor strait. + There dwell ye, if ye will to lodge at ease + In halls well-thronged: yet, if your soul prefer, + Tarry secluded in a separate home. + Choose ye and cull, from these our proffered gifts, + Whiche’er is best and sweetest to your will: + And I and all these citizens whose vote + Stands thus decreed, will your protectors be. + Look not to find elsewhere more loyal guard. + +CHORUS. + O godlike chief, God grant my prayer: + _Fair blessings on thy proffers fair, + Lord of Pelasgia’s race!_ + Yet, of thy grace, unto our side + Send thou the man of courage tried, + Of counsel deep and prudent thought,— + Be Danaus to his children brought; + For his it is to guide us well + And warn where it behoves to dwell— + What place shall guard and shelter us + From malice and tongues slanderous: + Swift always are the lips of blame + A stranger-maiden to defame— + But Fortune give us grace! + +THE KING OF ARGOS. + A stainless fame, a welcome kind + From all this people shall ye find: + Dwell therefore, damsels, loved of us, + Within our walls, as Danaus + Allots to each, in order due, + Her dower of attendants true. + + Re-enter DANAUS. + +DANAUS + High thanks, my children, unto Argos con, + And to this folk, as to Olympian gods, + Give offerings meet of sacrifice and wine; + For saviours are they in good sooth to you. + From me they heard, and bitter was their wrath, + How those your kinsmen strove to work you wrong, + And how of us were thwarted: then to me + This company of spearmen did they grant, + That honoured I might walk, nor unaware + Die by some secret thrust and on this land + Bring down the curse of death, that dieth not. + Such boons they gave me: it behoves me pay + A deeper reverence from a soul sincere. + Ye, to the many words of wariness + Spoken by me your father, add this word, + That, tried by time, our unknown company + Be held for honest: over-swift are tongues + To slander strangers, over-light is speech + To bring pollution on a stranger’s name. + Therefore I rede you, bring no shame on me + Now when man’s eye beholds your maiden prime. + Lovely is beauty’s ripening harvest-field, + But ill to guard; and men and beasts, I wot, + And birds and creeping things make prey of it. + And when the fruit is ripe for love, the voice + Of Aphrodite bruiteth it abroad, + The while she guards the yet unripened growth. + On the fair richness of a maiden’s bloom + Each passer looks, o’ercome with strong desire, + With eyes that waft the wistful dart of love. + Then be not such our hap, whose livelong toil + Did make our pinnace plough the mighty main: + Nor bring we shame upon ourselves, and joy + Unto my foes. Behold, a twofold home— + One of the king’s and one the people’s gift— + Unbought, ’tis yours to hold,—a gracious boon. + Go—but remember ye your sire’s behest, + And hold your life less dear than chastity. + +CHORUS. + The gods above grant that all else be well. + But fear not thou, O sire, lest aught befall + Of ill unto our ripened maidenhood. + So long as Heaven have no new ill devised, + From its chaste path my spirit shall not swerve. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Pass and adore ye the Blessed, the gods of the city who dwell + Around Erasinus, the gush of the swift immemorial tide. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Chant ye, O maidens; aloud let the praise of Pelasgia swell; + Hymn we no longer the shores where Nilus to ocean doth glide. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Sing we the bounteous streams that ripple and gush through the city; + Quickening flow they and fertile, the soft new life of the plain. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Artemis, maiden most pure, look on us with grace and with pity— + Save us from forced embraces: such love hath no crown but a pain. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Yet not in scorn we chant, but in honour of Aphrodite; + She truly and Hera alone have power with Zeus and control. + Holy the deeds of her rite, her craft is secret and mighty, + And high is her honour on earth, and subtle her sway of the soul. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Yea, and her child is Desire: in the train of his mother he goeth— + Yea and Persuasion soft-lipped, whom none can deny or repel: + Cometh Harmonia too, on whom Aphrodite bestoweth + The whispering parley, the paths of the rapture that lovers love + well. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Ah, but I tremble and quake lest again they should sail to reclaim! + Alas for the sorrow to come, the blood and the carnage of war. + Ah, by whose will was it done that o’er the wide ocean they came, + Guided by favouring winds, and wafted by sail and by oar? + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Peace! for what Fate hath ordained will surely not tarry but come; + Wide is the counsel of Zeus, by no man escaped or withstood: + Only I pray that whate’er, in the end, of this wedlock he doom, + We as many a maiden of old, may win from the ill to the good.[7] + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Great Zeus, this wedlock turn from me— + Me from the kinsman bridegroom guard! + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Come what come may, ’tis Fate’s decree. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Soft is thy word—the doom is hard. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Thou know’st not what the Fates provide. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + How should I scan Zeus’ mighty will, + The depth of counsel undescried? + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Pray thou no word of omen ill. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + What timely warning wouldst thou teach? + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Beware, nor slight the gods in speech. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Zeus, hold from my body the wedlock detested, the bridegroom + abhorred! + It was thou, it was thou didst release + Mine ancestress Io from sorrow: thine healing it was that restored, + The touch of thine hand gave her peace. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Be thy will for the cause of the maidens! of two ills, the lesser I + pray— + The exile that leaveth me pure. + May thy justice have heed to my cause, my prayers to thy mercy find + way! + For the hands of thy saving are sure. + + [_Exeunt omnes._] + + + [1] “ἀερίας ἀπὸ γᾶς.” This epithet may appear strange to modern + readers accustomed to think of Egypt as a land of cloudless skies and + pellucid atmosphere. Nevertheless both Pindar (_Pyth_ iv 93) and + Apollonius Rhodius (iv 267) speak of it in the same way as Aeschylus. + It has been conjectured that they allude to the fog banks that often + obscure the low coasts—a phenomenon likely to impress the early + navigators and to be reported by them. + + + [2] The whole of this dialogue in alternate verses is disarranged in + the MSS. The re-arrangement which has approved itself to Paley has + been here followed. It involves, however, a hiatus, instead of the + line to which this note is appended. The substance of the lost line + being easily deducible from the context, it has been supplied in the + translation. + + + [3] Poseidon. + + + [4] Here one verse at least has been lost. The conjecture of Bothe + seems to be verified, as far as substance is concerned, by the next + line, and has consequently been adopted. + + + [5] Cyprus. + + + [6] For this curious taunt, strongly illustrative of what Browning + calls “nationality in drinks,” see Herodotus, ii. 77. A similar + feeling may perhaps be traced in Tacitus’ description of the national + beverage of the Germans: “Potui humor ex hordeo aut frumento, _in + quandam similitudinem vini corruptus_” (_Germania_, chap, xxiii). + + + [7] The ambiguity of these two lines is reproduced from the original. + The Semi-Chorus appear to pray, in one aspiration, that the threatened + wedlock may never take place, and, _if_ it does take place, may be for + weal, not woe. + + + + +THE PERSIANS + +ARGUMENT + + +Xerxes, son of Darius and of his wife Atossa, daughter of Cyrus, went +forth against Hellas, to take vengeance upon those who had defeated his +father at Marathon. But ill fortune befell the king and his army both +by land and sea; neither did it avail him that he cast a bridge over +the Hellespont and made a canal across the promontory of Mount Athos, +and brought myriads of men, by land and sea, to subdue the Greeks. For +in the strait between Athens and the island of Salamis the Persian +ships were shattered and sunk or put to flight by those of Athens and +Lacedaemon and Aegina and Corinth, and Xerxes went homewards on the way +by which he had come, leaving his general Mardonius with three hundred +thousand men to strive with the Greeks by land: but in the next year +they were destroyed near Plataea in Boeotia, by the Lacedaemonians and +Athenians and Tegeans. Such was the end of the army which Xerxes left +behind him. But the king himself had reached the bridge over the +Hellespont, and late and hardly and in sorry plight and with few +companions came home unto the Palace of Susa. + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +CHORUS OF PERSIAN ELDERS. +ATOSSA, WIDOW OF DARIUS AND MOTHER OF XERXES. +A MESSENGER. +THE GHOST OF DARIUS. +XERXES. + +_The Scene is laid at the Palace of Susa_. + + +CHORUS. + Away unto the Grecian land + Hath passed the Persian armament: + We, by the monarch’s high command, + We are the warders true who stand, + Chosen, for honour and descent, + To watch the wealth of him who went— + Guards of the gold, and faithful styled + By Xerxes, great Darius’ child! + + But the king went nor comes again— + And for that host, we saw depart + Arrayed in gold, my boding heart + Aches with a pulse of anxious pain, + Presageful for its youthful king! + No scout, no steed, no battle-car + Comes speeding hitherward, to bring + News to our city from afar! + Erewhile they went, away, away, + From Susa, from Ecbatana, + From Kissa’s timeworn fortress grey, + Passing to ravage and to war— + Some upon steeds, on galleys some, + Some in close files, they passed from home, + All upon warlike errand bent— + Amistres, Artaphernes went, + Astaspes, Megabazes high, + Lords of the Persian chivalry, + Marshals who serve the great king’s word + Chieftains of all the mighty horde! + Horsemen and bowmen streamed away, + Grim in their aspect, fixed to slay, + And resolute to face the fray! + With troops of horse, careering fast, + Masistes, Artembáres passed: + Imaeus too, the bowman brave, + Sosthánes, Pharandákes, drave— + And others the all-nursing wave + Of Nilus to the battle gave; + Came Susiskánes, warrior wild, + And Pegastágon, Egypt’s child: + Thee, brave Arsámes! from afar + Did holy Memphis launch to war; + And Ariomardus, high in fame, + From Thebes the immemorial came, + And oarsmen skilled from Nilus’ fen, + A countless crowd of warlike men: + And next, the dainty Lydians went— + Soft rulers of a continent— + Mitragathes and Arcteus bold + In twin command their ranks controlled, + And Sardis town, that teems with gold, + Sent forth its squadrons to the war— + Horse upon horse, and car on car, + Double and triple teams, they rolled, + In onset awful to behold. + From Tmolus’ sacred hill there came + The native hordes to join the fray, + And upon Hellas’ neck to lay + The yoke of slavery and shame; + Mardon and Tharubis were there, + Bright anvils for the foemen’s spear! + The Mysian dart-men sped to war, + And the long crowd that onward rolled + From Babylon enriched with gold— + Captains of ships and archers skilled + To speed the shaft, and those who wield + The scimitar;—the eastern band + Who, by the great king’s high command, + Swept to subdue the western land! + + Gone are they, gone—ah, welladay! + The flower and pride of our array; + And all the Eastland, from whose breast + Came forth her bravest and her best, + Craves longingly with boding dread— + Parents for sons, and brides new-wed + For absent lords, and, day by day, + Shudder with dread at their delay! + + Ere now they have passed o’er the sea, the manifold host of the king— + They have gone forth to sack and to burn; ashore on the Westland they + spring! + With cordage and rope they have bridged the sea-way of Helle, to pass + O’er the strait that is named by thy name, O daughter of Athamas! + They have anchored their ships in the current, they have bridled the + neck of the sea— + The Shepherd and Lord of the East hath bidden a roadway to be! + From the land to the land they pass over, a herd at the high king’s + best; + Some by the way of the waves, and some o’er the planking have + pressed. + For the king is a lord and a god: he was born of the golden seed + That erst upon Danae fell—his captains are strong at the need! + And dark is the glare of his eyes, as eyes of a serpent blood-fed, + And with manifold troops in his train and with manifold ships hath he + sped— + Yea, sped with his Syrian cars: he leads on the lords of the bow + To meet with the men of the West, the spear-armed force of the foe! + Can any make head and resist him, when he comes with the roll of a + wave? + No barrier nor phalanx of might, no chief, be he ever so brave! + For stern is the onset of Persia, and gallant her children in fight. + But the guile of the god is deceitful, and who shall elude him by + flight? + And who is the lord of the leap, that can spring and alight and + evade? + For Até deludes and allures, till round him the meshes are laid, + And no man his doom can escape! it was writ in the rule of high + Heaven, + That in tramp of the steeds and in crash of the charge the war-cry of + Persia be given: + They have learned to behold the forbidden, the sacred enclosure of + sea, + Where the waters are wide and in stress of the wind the billows roll + hoary to lee! + And their trust is in cable and cordage, too weak in the power of the + blast, + And frail are the links of the bridge whereby unto Hellas they + passed. + + Therefore my gloom-wrapped heart is rent with sorrow + For what may hap to-morrow! + Alack, for all the Persian armament— + Alack, lest there be sent + Dread news of desolation, Susa’s land + Bereft, forlorn, unmanned— + Lest the grey Kissian fortress echo back + The wail, _Alack, Alack!_ + The sound of women’s shriek, who wail and mourn, + With fine-spun raiment torn! + The charioteers went forth nor come again, + And all the marching men + Even as a swarm of bees have flown afar, + Drawn by the king to war— + Crossing the sea-bridge, linked from side to side, + That doth the waves divide: + And the soft bridal couch of bygone years + Is now bedewed with tears, + Each princess, clad in garments delicate, + Wails for her widowed fate— + + _Alas my gallant bridegroom, lost and gone, + And I am left alone!_ + + But now, ye warders of the state, + Here, in this hall of old renown, + Behoves that we deliberate + In counsel deep and wise debate, + For need is surely shown! + How fareth he, Darius’ child, + The Persian king, from Perseus styled? + + Comes triumph to the eastern bow, + Or hath the lance-point conquered now? + + Enter ATOSSA. + + See, yonder comes the mother-queen, + Light of our eyes, in godlike sheen, + The royal mother of the king!— + Fall we before her! well it were + That, all as one, we sue to her, + And round her footsteps cling! + + Queen, among deep-girded Persian dames thou highest and most royal, + Hoary mother, thou, of Xerxes, and Darius’ wife of old! + To godlike sire, and godlike son, we bow us and are loyal— + Unless, on us, an adverse tide of destiny has rolled! + +ATOSSA. + Therefore come I forth to you, from chambers decked and golden, + Where long ago Darius laid his head, with me beside, + And my heart is torn with anguish, and with terror am I holden, + And I plead unto your friendship and I bid you to my side. + + Darius, in the old time, by aid of some Immortal, + Raised up the stately fabric, our wealth of long-ago: + But I tremble lest it totter down, and ruin porch and portal, + And the whirling dust of downfall rise above its overthrow! + + Therefore a dread unspeakable within me never slumbers, + Saying, _Honour not the gauds of wealth if men have ceased to grow, + Nor deem that men, apart from wealth, can find their strength in + numbers_— + We shudder for our light and king, though we have gold enow! + + _No light there is, in any house, save presence of the master_— + So runs the saw, ye aged men! and truth it says indeed— + On you I call, the wise and true, to ward us from disaster, + For all my hope is fixed on you, to prop us in our need! + +CHORUS. + Queen-Mother of the Persian land, to thy commandment bowing, + Whate’er thou wilt, in word or deed, we follow to fulfil— + Not twice we need thine high behest, our faith and duty knowing, + In council and in act alike, thy loyal servants still! + +ATOSSA. + Long while by various visions of the night + Am I beset, since to Ionian lands + With marshalled host my son went forth to war. + Yet never saw I presage so distinct + As in the night now passed.—Attend my tale!— + A dream I had: two women nobly clad + Came to my sight, one robed in Persian dress, + The other vested in the Dorian garb, + And both right stately and more tall by far + Than women of to-day, and beautiful + Beyond disparagement, and sisters sprung + Both of one race, but, by their natal lot, + One born in Hellas, one in Eastern land. + These, as it seemed unto my watching eyes, + Roused each the other to a mutual feud: + The which my son perceiving set himself + To check and soothe their struggle, and anon + Yoked them and set the collars on their necks; + And one, the Ionian, proud in this array, + Paced in high quietude, and lent her mouth, + Obedient, to the guidance of the rein. + But restively the other strove, and broke + The fittings of the car, and plunged away + With mouth un-bitted: o’er the broken yoke + My son was hurled, and lo! Darius stood + In lamentation o’er his fallen child. + Him Xerxes saw, and rent his robe in grief. + + Such was my vision of the night now past; + But when, arising, I had dipped my hand + In the fair lustral stream, I drew towards + The altar, in the act of sacrifice, + Having in mind to offer, as their due, + The sacred meal-cake to the averting powers, + Lords of the rite that banisheth ill dreams. + When lo! I saw an eagle fleeing fast + To Phoebus’ shrine—O friends, I stayed my steps, + Too scared to speak! for, close upon his flight, + A little falcon dashed in winged pursuit, + Plucking with claws the eagle’s head, while he + Could only crouch and cower and yield himself. + Scared was I by that sight, and eke to you + No less a terror must it be to hear! + For mark this well—if Xerxes have prevailed, + He shall come back the wonder of the world: + If not, still none can call him to account— + So he but live, he liveth Persia’s King! + +CHORUS. + Queen, it stands not with my purpose to abet these fears of thine, + Nor to speak with glazing comfort! nay, betake thee to the shrine! + If thy dream foretold disaster, sue to gods to bar its way, + And, for thyself, son, state, and friends, to bring fair fate to-day. + Next, unto Earth and to the Dead be due libation poured, + And by thee let Darius’ soul be wistfully implored— + _I saw thee, lord, in last night’s dream, a phantom from the grave, + I pray thee, lord, from earth beneath come forth to help and save! + To me and to thy son send up the bliss of triumph now, + And hold the gloomy fates of ill, dim in the dark below!_ + Such be thy words! my inner heart good tidings doth foretell, + And that fair fate will spring thereof, if wisdom guide us well. + +ATOSSA. + Loyal thou that first hast read this dream, this vision of the night, + With loyalty to me, the queen—be then thy presage right! + And therefore, as thy bidding is, what time I pass within + To dedicate these offerings, new prayers I will begin, + Alike to gods and the great dead who loved our lineage well. + Yet one more word—say, in what realm do the Athenians dwell? + +CHORUS. + Far hence, even where, in evening land, goes down our Lord the Sun. + +ATOSSA. + Say, had my son so keen desire, that region to o’errun? + +CHORUS. + Yea—if she fell, the rest of Greece were subject to our sway! + +ATOSSA. + Hath she so great predominance, such legions in array? + +CHORUS. + Ay—such a host as smote us sore upon an earlier day. + +ATOSSA. + And what hath she, besides her men? enow of wealth in store? + +CHORUS. + A mine of treasure in the earth, a fount of silver ore! + +ATOSSA. + Is it in skill of bow and shaft that Athens’ men excel? + +CHORUS. + Nay, they bear bucklers in the fight, and thrust the spear-point + well. + +ATOSSA. + And who is shepherd of their host and holds them in command? + +CHORUS. + To no man do they bow as slaves, nor own a master’s hand. + +ATOSSA. + How should they bide our brunt of war, the East upon the West? + +CHORUS. + That could Darius’ valiant horde in days of yore attest! + +ATOSSA. + A boding word, to us who bore the men now far away! + +CHORUS. + Nay—as I deem, the very truth will dawn on us to-day. + A Persian by his garb and speed, a courier draws anear— + He bringeth news, of good or ill, for Persia’s land to hear. + + Enter a MESSENGER. + +MESSENGER. +O walls and towers of all the Asian realm, +O Persian land, O treasure-house of gold! +How, by one stroke, down to destruction, down, +Hath sunk our pride, and all the flower of war +That once was Persia’s, lieth in the dust! +Woe on the man who first announceth woe— +Yet must I all the tale of death unroll! +Hark to me, Persians! Persia’s host lies low. + +CHORUS. + O ruin manifold, and woe, and fear! + Let the wild tears run down, for the great doom is here! + +MESSENGER. + This blow hath fallen, to the utterance, And I, past hope, behold my + safe return! + +CHORUS. + Too long, alack, too long this life of mine, + That in mine age I see this sudden woe condign! + +MESSENGER. + As one who saw, by no loose rumour led, + Lords, I would tell what doom was dealt to us. + +CHORUS. + Alack, how vainly have they striven! + Our myriad hordes with shaft and bow + Went from the Eastland, to lay low + Hellas, beloved of Heaven! + +MESSENGER. + Piled with men dead, yea, miserably slain, + Is every beach, each reef of Salamis! + +CHORUS. + Thou sayest sooth—ah well-a-day! + Battered amid the waves, and torn, + On surges hither, thither, borne, + Dead bodies, bloodstained and forlorn, + In their long cloaks they toss and stray! + +MESSENGER. + Their bows availed not! all have perished, all, + By charging galleys crushed and whelmed in death. + +CHORUS. + Shriek out your sorrow’s wistful wail! + To their untimely doom they went; + Ill strove they, and to no avail, + And minished is their armament! + +MESSENGER. + Out on thee, hateful name of Salamis, + Out upon Athens, mournful memory! + +CHORUS. + Woe upon this day’s evil fame! + Thou, Athens, art our murderess; + Alack, full many a Persian dame + Is left forlorn and husbandless! + +ATOSSA. + Mute have I been awhile, and overwrought + At this great sorrow, for it passeth speech, + And passeth all desire to ask of it. + Yet if the gods send evils, men must bear. + (_To the_ MESSENGER) + Unroll the record! stand composed and tell, + Although thy heart be groaning inwardly, + Who hath escaped, and, of our leaders, whom + Have we to weep? what chieftains in the van + Stood, sank, and died and left us leaderless? + +MESSENGER. + Xerxes himself survives and sees the day. + +ATOSSA. + Then to my line thy word renews the dawn + And golden dayspring after gloom of night! + +MESSENGER. + But the brave marshal of ten thousand horse, + Artembares, is tossed and flung in death + Along the rugged rocks Silenian. + And Dadaces no longer leads his troop, + But, smitten by the spear, from off the prow + Hath lightly leaped to death; and Tenagon, + In true descent a Bactrian nobly born, + Drifts by the sea-lashed reefs of Salamis, + The isle of Ajax. Gone Lilaeus too, + Gone are Arsames and Argestes! all, + Around the islet where the sea-doves breed, + Dashed their defeated heads on iron rocks; + Arcteus, who dwelt beside the founts of Nile, + Adeues, Pheresseues, and with them + Pharnuchus, from one galley’s deck went down. + Matallus, too, of Chrysa, lord and king + Of myriad hordes, who led unto the fight + Three times ten thousand swarthy cavaliers, + Fell, with his swarthy and abundant beard + Incarnadined to red, a crimson stain + Outrivalling the purple of the sea! + There Magian Arabus and Artames + Of Bactra perished—taking up, alike, + In yonder stony land their long sojourn. + Amistris too, and he whose strenuous spear + Was foremost in the fight, Amphistreus fell, + And gallant Ariomardus, by whose death + Broods sorrow upon Sardis: Mysia mourns + For Seisames, and Tharubis lies low— + Commander, he, of five times fifty ships, + Born in Lyrnessus: his heroic form + Is low in death, ungraced with sepulchre. + Dead too is he, the lord of courage high, + Cilicia’s marshal, brave Syennesis, + Than whom none dealt more carnage on the foe, + Nor perished by a more heroic end. + So fell the brave: so speak I of their doom, + Summing in brief the fate of myriads! + +ATOSSA. + Ah well-a-day! these crowning woes I hear, + The shame of Persia and her shrieks of dole! + But yet renew the tale, repeat thy words, + Tell o’er the count of those Hellenic ships, + And how they ventured with their beakèd prows + To charge upon the Persian armament. + +MESSENGER. + Know, if mere count of ships could win the day, + The Persians had prevailed. The Greeks, in sooth, + Had but three hundred galleys at the most, + And other ten, select and separate. + But—I am witness—Xerxes held command + Of full a thousand keels, and, those apart, + Two hundred more, and seven, for speed renowned!— + So stands the reckoning, and who shall dare + To say we Persians had the lesser host? + +ATOSSA. + Nay, we were worsted by an unseen power + Who swayed the balance downward to our doom! + +MESSENGER. + In ward of heaven doth Pallas’ city stand. + +ATOSSA. + How then? is Athens yet inviolate? + +MESSENGER. + While her men live, her bulwark standeth firm! + +ATOSSA. + Say, how began the struggle of the ships? + Who first joined issue? did the Greeks attack, + Or Xerxes, in his numbers confident? + +MESSENGER. + O queen, our whole disaster thus befell, + Through intervention of some fiend or fate— + I know not what—that had ill will to us. + From the Athenian host some Greek came o’er, + To thy son Xerxes whispering this tale— + _Once let the gloom of night have gathered in, + The Greeks will tarry not, but swiftly spring + Each to his galley-bench, in furtive flight, + Softly contriving safety for their life_. + Thy son believed the word and missed the craft + Of that Greek foeman, and the spite of Heaven, + And straight to all his captains gave this charge— + _As soon as sunlight warms the ground no more, + And gloom enwraps the sanctuary of sky, + Range we our fleet in triple serried lines + To bar the passage from the seething strait, + This way and that: let other ships surround + The isle of Ajax, with this warning word— + That if the Greeks their jeopardy should scape + By wary craft, and win their ships a road. + Each Persian captain shall his failure pay + By forfeit of his head_. So spake the king, + Inspired at heart with over-confidence, + Unwitting of the gods’ predestined will. + Thereon our crews, with no disordered haste, + Did service to his bidding and purveyed + The meal of afternoon: each rower then + Over the fitted rowlock looped his oar. + Then, when the splendour of the sun had set, + And night drew on, each master of the oar + And each armed warrior straightway went aboard. + Forward the long ships moved, rank cheering rank, + Each forward set upon its ordered course. + And all night long the captains of the fleet + Kept their crews moving up and down the strait. + So the night waned, and not one Grecian ship + Made effort to elude and slip away. + But as dawn came and with her coursers white + Shone in fair radiance over all the earth, + First from the Grecian fleet rang out a cry, + A song of onset! and the island crags + Re-echoed to the shrill exulting sound. + Then on us Eastern men amazement fell + And fear in place of hope; for what we heard + Was not a call to flight! the Greeks rang out + Their holy, resolute, exulting chant, + Like men come forth to dare and do and die + Their trumpets pealed, and fire was in that sound, + And with the dash of simultaneous oars + Replying to the war-chant, on they came, + Smiting the swirling brine, and in a trice + They flashed upon the vision of the foe! + The right wing first in orderly advance + Came on, a steady column; following then, + The rest of their array moved out and on, + And to our ears there came a burst of sound, + A clamour manifold.—_On, sons of Greece! + On, for your country’s freedom! strike to save + Wives, children, temples of ancestral gods, + Graves of your fathers! now is all at stake_. + Then from our side swelled up the mingled din + Of Persian tongues, and time brooked no delay— + Ship into ship drave hard its brazen beak + With speed of thought, a shattering blow! and first + One Grecian bark plunged straight, and sheared away + Bowsprit and stem of a Phoenician ship. + And then each galley on some other’s prow + Came crashing in. Awhile our stream of ships + Held onward, till within the narrowing creek + Our jostling vessels were together driven, + And none could aid another: each on each + Drave hard their brazen beaks, or brake away + The oar-banks of each other, stem to stern, + While the Greek galleys, with no lack of skill, + Hemmed them and battered in their sides, and soon + The hulls rolled over, and the sea was hid, + Crowded with wrecks and butchery of men. + No beach nor reef but was with corpses strewn, + And every keel of our barbarian host + Hurried to flee, in utter disarray. + Thereon the foe closed in upon the wrecks + And hacked and hewed, with oars and splintered planks, + As fishermen hack tunnies or a cast + Of netted dolphins, and the briny sea + Rang with the screams and shrieks of dying men, + Until the night’s dark aspect hid the scene. + Had I a ten days’ time to sum that count + Of carnage, ’twere too little! know this well— + One day ne’er saw such myriad forms of death! + +ATOSSA. + Woe on us, woe! disaster’s mighty sea + Hath burst on us and all the Persian realm! + +MESSENGER. + Be well assured, the tale is but begun— + The further agony that on us fell + Doth twice outweigh the sufferings I have told! + +ATOSSA. + Nay, what disaster could be worse than this? + Say on! what woe upon the army came, + Swaying the scale to a yet further fall? + +MESSENGER. + The very flower and crown of Persia’s race, + Gallant of soul and glorious in descent, + And highest held in trust before the king, + Lies shamefully and miserably slain. + +ATOSSA. + Alas for me and for this ruin, friends! + Dead, sayest thou? by what fate overthrown? + +MESSENGER. + An islet is there, fronting Salamis— + Strait, and with evil anchorage: thereon + Pan treads the measure of the dance he loves + Along the sea-beach. Thither the king sent + His noblest, that, whene’er the Grecian foe + Should ’scape, with shattered ships, unto the isle, + We might make easy prey of fugitives + And slay them there, and from the washing tides + Rescue our friends. It fell out otherwise + Than he divined, for when, by aid of Heaven, + The Hellenes held the victory on the sea, + Their sailors then and there begirt themselves + With brazen mail and bounded from their ships, + And then enringed the islet, point by point, + So that our Persians in bewilderment + Knew not which way to turn. On every side, + Battered with stones, they fell, while arrows flew + From many a string, and smote them to the death. + Then, at the last, with simultaneous rush + The foe came bursting on us, hacked and hewed + To fragments all that miserable band, + Till not a soul of them was left alive. + Then Xerxes saw disaster’s depth, and shrieked, + From where he sat on high, surveying all— + A lofty eminence, beside the brine, + Whence all his armament lay clear in view. + His robe he rent, with loud and bitter wail, + And to his land-force swiftly gave command + And fled, with shame beside him! Now, lament + That second woe, upon the first imposed! + +ATOSSA. + Out on thee, Fortune! thou hast foiled the hope + And power of Persia: to this bitter end + My son went forth to wreak his great revenge + On famous Athens! all too few they seemed, + Our men who died upon the Fennel-field! + Vengeance for them my son had mind to take, + And drew on his own head these whelming woes. + But thou, say on! the ships that ’scaped from wreck— + Where didst thou leave them? make thy story clear. + +MESSENGER. + The captains of the ships that still survived + Fled in disorder, scudding down the wind, + The while our land-force on Boeotian soil + Fell into ruin, some beside the springs + Dropping before they drank, and some outworn, + Pursued, and panting all their life away. + The rest of us our way to Phocis won, + And thence to Doris and the Melian gulf, + Where with soft stream Spercheus laves the soil. + Thence to the northward did Phthiotis’ plain, + And some Thessalian fortress, lend us aid, + For famine-pinched we were, and many died + Of drought and hunger’s twofold present scourge. + Thence to Magnesia came we, and the land + Where Macedonians dwell, and crossed the ford + Of Axius, and Bolbe’s reedy fen, + And mount Pangaeus, in Edonian land. + There, in the very night we came, the god + Brought winter ere its time, from bank to bank + Freezing the holy Strymon’s tide. Each man + Who heretofore held lightly of the gods, + Now crouched and proffered prayer to Earth and Heaven! + Then, after many orisons performed, + The army ventured on the frozen ford: + Yet only those who crossed before the sun + Shed its warm rays, won to the farther side. + For soon the fervour of the glowing orb + Did with its keen rays pierce the ice-bound stream, + And men sank through and thrust each other down— + Best was his lot whose breath was stifled first! + But all who struggled through and gained the bank, + Toilfully wending through the land of Thrace + Have made their way, a sorry, scanted few, + Unto this homeland. Let the city now + Lament and yearn for all the loved and lost. + My tale is truth, yet much untold remains + Of ills that Heaven hath hurled upon our land. + +CHORUS. + Spirit of Fate, too heavy were thy feet, + Those ill to match! that sprang on Persia’s realm. + +ATOSSA. + Woe for the host, to wrack and ruin hurled! + O warning of the night, prophetic dream! + Thou didst foreshadow clearly all the doom, + While ye, old men, made light of woman’s fears! + Ah well—yet, as your divination ruled + The meaning of the sign, I hold it good, + First, that I put up prayer unto the gods, + And, after that, forth from my palace bring + The sacrificial cake, the offering due + To Earth and to the spirits of the dead. + Too well I know it is a timeless rite + Over a finished thing that cannot change! + But yet—I know not—there may come of it + Alleviation for the after time. + You it beseems, in view of what hath happed, + T’ advise with loyal hearts our loyal guards: + And to my son—if, ere my coming forth, + He should draw hitherward—give comfort meet, + Escort him to the palace in all state, + Lest to these woes he add another woe! + + [_Exit ATOSSA._] + +CHORUS. + Zeus, lord and king! to death and nought + Our countless host by thee is brought. + Deep in the gloom of death, to-day, + Lie Susa and Ecbatana: + How many a maid in sorrow stands + And rends her tire with tender hands! + How tears run down, in common pain + And woeful mourning for the slain! + O delicate in dole and grief, + Ye Persian women! past relief + Is now your sorrow! to the war + Your loved ones went and come no more! + Gone from you is your joy and pride— + Severed the bridegroom from the bride— + The wedded couch luxurious + Is widowed now, and all the house + Pines ever with insatiate sighs, + And we stand here and bid arise, + For those who forth in ardour went + And come not back, the loud lament! + + Land of the East, thou mournest for the host, + Bereft of all thy sons, alas the day! + For them whom Xerxes led hath Xerxes lost— + Xerxes who wrecked the fleet, and flung our hopes away! + + How came it that Darius once controlled, + And without scathe, the army of the bow, + Loved by the folk of Susa, wise and bold? + Now is the land-force lost, the shipmen sunk below! + + Ah for the ships that bore them, woe is me! + Bore them to death and doom! the crashing prows + Of fierce Ionian oarsmen swept the sea, + And death was in their wake, and shipwreck murderous! + + Late, late and hardly—if true tales they tell— + Did Xerxes flee along the wintry way + And snows of Thrace—but ah, the first who fell + Lie by the rocks or float upon Cychrea’s bay! + + Mourn, each and all! waft heavenward your cry, + Stung to the soul, bereaved, disconsolate! + Wail out your anguish, till it pierce the sky, + In shrieks of deep despair, ill-omened, desperate! + + The dead are drifting, yea, are gnawed upon + By voiceless children of the stainless sea, + Or battered by the surge! we mourn and groan + For husbands gone to death, for childless agony! + + Alas the aged men, who mourn to-day + The ruinous sorrows that the gods ordain! + O’er the wide Asian land, the Persian sway + Can force no tribute now, and can no rule sustain. + + Yea, men will crouch no more to fallen power + And kingship overthrown! the whole land o’er, + Men speak the thing they will, and from this hour + The folk whom Xerxes ruled obey his word no more. + + The yoke of force is broken from the neck— + The isle of Ajax and th’ encircling wave + Reek with a bloody crop of death and wreck + Of Persia’s fallen power, that none can lift nor save! + + Re-enter ATOSSA, in mourning robes. + +ATOSSA. + Friends, whosoe’er is versed in human ills, + Knoweth right well that when a wave of woe + Comes on a man, he sees in all things fear; + While, in flood-tide of fortune, ’tis his mood + To take that fortune as unchangeable, + Wafting him ever forward. Mark me now— + The gods’ thwart purpose doth confront mine eyes, + And all is terror to me; in mine ears + There sounds a cry, but not of triumph now— + So am I scared at heart by woe so great. + Therefore I wend forth from the house anew, + Borne in no car of state, nor robed in pride + As heretofore, but bringing, for the sire + Who did beget my son, libations meet + For holy rites that shall appease the dead— + The sweet white milk, drawn from a spotless cow, + The oozing drop of golden honey, culled + By the flower-haunting bee, and therewithal + Pure draughts of water from a virgin spring; + And lo! besides, the stainless effluence, + Born of the wild vine’s bosom, shining store + Treasured to age, this bright and luscious wine. + And eke the fragrant fruit upon the bough + Of the grey olive-tree, which lives its life + In sprouting leafage, and the twining flowers, + Bright children of the earth’s fertility. + But you, O friends! above these offerings poured + To reconcile the dead, ring out your dirge + To summon up Darius from the shades, + Himself a shade; and I will pour these draughts, + Which earth shall drink, unto the gods of hell. + +CHORUS. + Queen, by the Persian land adored, + By thee be this libation poured, + Passing to those who hold command + Of dead men in the spirit-land! + And we will sue, in solemn chant, + That gods who do escort the dead + In nether realms, our prayer may grant— + Back to us be Darius led! + + O Earth, and Hermes, and the king + Of Hades, our Darius bring! + For if, beyond the prayers we prayed, + He knoweth aught of help or aid, + He, he alone, in realms below, + Can speak the limit of our woe! + + Doth he hear me, the king we adored, who is god among gods of the + dead? + Doth he hear me send out in my sorrow the pitiful, manifold cry, + The sobbing lament and appeal? is the voice of my suffering sped + To the realm of the shades? doth he hear me and pity my sorrowful + sigh? + O Earth, and ye Lords of the dead! release ye that spirit of might, + Who in Susa the palace was born! let him rise up once more to the + light! + + There is none like him, none of all + That e’er were laid in Persian sepulchres! + Borne forth he was to honoured burial, + A royal heart! and followed by our tears. + God of the dead, O give him back to us, + Darius, ruler glorious! + He never wasted us with reckless war— + God, counsellor, and king, beneath a happy star! + Ancient of days and king, awake and come— + Rise o’er the mounded tomb! + Rise, plant thy foot, with saffron sandal shod + Father to us, and god! + Rise with thy diadem, O sire benign, + Upon thy brow! + List to the strange new sorrows of thy line, + Sire of a woeful son! + + A mist of fate and hell is round us now, + And all the city’s flower to death is done! + Alas, we wept thee once, and weep again! + O Lord of lords, by recklessness twofold + The land is wasted of its men, + And down to death are rolled + Wreckage of sail and oar, + Ships that are ships no more, + And bodies of the slain! + + The GHOST OF DARIUS rises. + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Ye aged Persians, truest of the true, + Coevals of the youth that once was mine, + What troubleth now our city? harken, how + It moans and beats the breast and rends the plain! + And I, beholding how my consort stood + Beside my tomb, was moved with awe, and took + The gift of her libation graciously. + But ye are weeping by my sepulchre, + And, shrilling forth a sad, evoking cry, + Summon me mournfully, _Arise, arise_. + No light thing is it, to come back from death, + For, in good sooth, the gods of nether gloom + Are quick to seize but late and loth to free! + Yet among them I dwell as one in power— + And lo, I come! now speak, and speed your words, + Lest I be blamed for tarrying overlong! + What new disaster broods o’er Persia’s realm? + +CHORUS. + With awe on thee I gaze, + And, standing face to face, + I tremble as I did in olden days! + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Nay, but as I rose to earth again, obedient to your call, + Prithee, tarry not in parley! be one word enough for all— + Speak and gaze on me unshrinking, neither let my face appal! + +CHORUS. + I tremble to reveal, + Yet tremble to conceal + Things hard for friends to feel! + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Nay, but if the old-time terror on your spirit keeps its hold, + Speak thou, O royal lady who didst couch with me of old! + Stay thy weeping and lamenting and to me reveal the truth— + Speak! for man is born to sorrow; yea, the proverb sayeth sooth! + ’Tis the doom of mortal beings, if they live to see old age, + To suffer bale, by land and sea, through war and tempest’s rage. + +ATOSSA. + O thou whose blissful fate on earth all mortal weal excelled— + Who, while the sunlight touched thine eyes, the lord of all wert + held! + A god to Persian men thou wert, in bliss and pride and fame— + I hold thee blest too in thy death, or e’er the ruin came! + Alas, Darius! one brief word must tell thee all the tale— + The Persian power is in the dust, gone down in blood and bale! + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Speak—by what chance? did man rebel, or pestilence descend? + +ATOSSA. + Neither! by Athens’ fatal shores our army met its end. + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Which of my children led our host to Athens? speak and say. + +ATOSSA. + The froward Xerxes, leaving all our realm to disarray. + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Was it with army or with fleet on folly’s quest he went? + +ATOSSA. + With both alike, a twofold front of double armament. + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + And how then did so large a host on foot pass o’er the sea? + +ATOSSA. + He bridged the ford of Helle’s strait by artful carpentry. + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + How? could his craft avail to span the torrent of that tide? + +ATOSSA. + ’Tis sooth I say—some unknown power did fatal help provide! + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Alas, that power in malice came, to his bewilderment! + +ATOSSA. + Alas, we see the end of all, the ruin on us sent. + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Speak, tell me how they fared therein, that thus ye mourn and weep? + +ATOSSA. + Disaster to the army came, through ruin on the deep! + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Is all undone? hath all the folk gone down before the foe? + +ATOSSA. + Yea, hark to Susa’s mourning cry for warriors laid low! + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Alas for all our gallant aids, our Persia’s help and pride! + +ATOSSA. + Ay! old with young, the Bactrian force hath perished at our side! + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Alas, my son! what gallant youths hath he sent down to death! + +ATOSSA. + Alone, or with a scanty guard—for so the rumour saith— + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + He came—but how, and to what end? doth aught of hope remain? + +ATOSSA. + With joy he reached the bridge that spanned the Hellespontine main. + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + How? is he safe, in Persian land? speak soothly, yea or nay! + +ATOSSA. + Clear and more clear the rumour comes, for no man to gainsay. + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Woe for the oracle fulfilled, the presage of the war + Launched on my son, by will of Zeus! I deemed our doom afar + In lap of time; but, if a king push forward to his fate, + The god himself allures to death that man infatuate! + So now the very fount of woe streams out on those I loved, + And mine own son, unwisely bold, the truth hereof hath proved! + He sought to shackle and control the Hellespontine wave, + That rushes from the Bosphorus, with fetters of a slave!— + To curb and bridge, with welded links, the streaming water-way, + And guide across the passage broad his manifold array! + Ah, folly void of counsel! he deemed that mortal wight + Could thwart the will of Heaven itself and curb Poseidon’s might! + Was it not madness? much I fear lest all my wealth and store + Pass from my treasure-house, to be the snatcher’s prize once more! + +ATOSSA. + Such is the lesson, ah, too late! to eager Xerxes taught— + Trusting random counsellors and hare-brained men of nought, + Who said _Darius mighty wealth and fame to us did bring, + But thou art nought, a blunted spear, a palace-keeping king!_ + Unto those sorry counsellors a ready ear he lent, + And led away to Hellas’ shore his fated armament. + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Therefore through them hath come calamity + Most huge and past forgetting; nor of old + Did ever such extermination fall + Upon the city Susa. Long ago + Zeus in his power this privilege bestowed, + That with a guiding sceptre one sole man + Should rule this Asian land of flock and herd. + Over the folk a Mede, Astyages, + Did grasp the power: then Cyaxares ruled + In his sire’s place, and held the sway aright, + Steering his state with watchful wariness. + Third in succession, Cyrus, blest of Heaven, + Held rule and ’stablished peace for all his clan: + Lydian and Phrygian won he to his sway, + And wide Ionia to his yoke constrained, + For the god favoured his discretion sage. + Fourth in the dynasty was Cyrus’ son, + And fifth was Mardus, scandal of his land + And ancient lineage. Him Artaphrenes, + Hardy of heart, within his palace slew, + Aided by loyal plotters, set for this. + And I too gained the lot for which I craved, + And oftentimes led out a goodly host, + Yet never brought disaster such as this + Upon the city. But my son is young + And reckless in his youth, and heedeth not + The warnings of my mouth. Mark this, my friends, + Born with my birth, coeval with mine age— + Not all we kings who held successive rule + Have wrought, combined, such ruin as my son! + +CHORUS. + How then, O King Darius? whitherward + Dost thou direct thy warning? from this plight + How can we Persians fare towards hope again? + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + By nevermore assailing Grecian lands, + Even tho’ our Median force be double theirs— + For the land’s self protects its denizens. + +CHORUS. + How meanest thou? by what defensive power? + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + She wastes by famine a too countless foe. + +CHORUS. + But we will bring a host more skilled than huge. + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Why, e’en that army, camped in Hellas still, + Shall never win again to home and weal! + +CHORUS. + How say’st thou? will not all the Asian host + Pass back from Europe over Helle’s ford? + +GHOST OF DARIUS. + Nay—scarce a tithe of all those myriads, + If man may trust the oracles of Heaven + When he beholds the things already wrought, + Not false with true, but true with no word false + If what I trow be truth, my son has left + A chosen rear-guard of our host, in whom + He trusts, now, with a random confidence! + They tarry where Asopus laves the ground + With rills that softly bless Boeotia’s plain— + There is it fated for them to endure + The very crown of misery and doom, + Requital for their god-forgetting pride! + For why? they raided Hellas, had the heart + To wrong the images of holy gods, + And give the shrines and temples to the flame! + Defaced and dashed from sight the altars fell, + And each god’s image, from its pedestal + Thrust and flung down, in dim confusion lies! + Therefore, for outrage vile, a doom as dark + They suffer, and yet more shall undergo— + They touch no bottom in the swamp of doom, + But round them rises, bubbling up, the ooze! + So deep shall lie the gory clotted mass + Of corpses by the Dorian spear transfixed + Upon Plataea’s field! yea, piles of slain + To the third generation shall attest + By silent eloquence to those that see— + _Let not a mortal vaunt him overmuch_. + For pride grows rankly, and to ripeness brings + The curse of fate, and reaps, for harvest, tears! + Therefore when ye behold, for deeds like these, + Such stern requital paid, remember then + Athens and Hellas. Let no mortal wight, + Holding too lightly of his present weal + And passionate for more, cast down and spill + The mighty cup of his prosperity! + Doubt not that over-proud and haughty souls + Zeus lours in wrath, exacting the account. + Therefore, with wary warning, school my son, + Though he be lessoned by the gods already, + To curb the vaunting that affronts high Heaven! + And thou, O venerable Mother-queen, + Beloved of Xerxes, to the palace pass + And take therefrom such raiment as befits + Thy son, and go to meet him: for his garb + In this extremity of grief hangs rent + Around his body, woefully unstitched, + Mere tattered fragments of once royal robes! + Go thou to him, speak soft and soothing words— + Thee, and none other, will he bear to hear, + As well I know. But I must pass away + From earth above, unto the nether gloom; + Therefore, old men, take my farewell, and clasp, + Even amid the ruin of this time, + Unto your souls the pleasure of the day, + For dead men have no profit of their gold! + + [_The GHOST OF DARIUS sinks._] + +CHORUS. + Alas, I thrill with pain for Persia’s woes— + Many fulfilled, and others hard at hand! + +ATOSSA. + O spirit of the race, what sorrows crowd + Upon me! and this anguish stings me worst, + That round my royal son’s dishonoured form + Hang rags and tatters, degradation deep! + I will away, and, bringing from within + A seemly royal robe, will straightway strive + To meet and greet my son: foul scorn it were + To leave our dearest in his hour of shame. + + [_Exit ATOSSA._] + +CHORUS. + Ah glorious and goodly they were, the life and the lot that we + gained, + The cities we held in our hand when the monarch invincible reigned, + The king that was good to his realm, sufficing, fulfilled of his + sway, + A lord that was peer of the gods, the pride of the bygone day! + Then could we show to the skies great hosts and a glorious name, + And laws that were stable in might; as towers they guarded our fame! + There without woe or disaster we came from the foe and the fight, + In triumph, enriched with the spoil, to the land and the city’s + delight. + What towns ere the Halys he passed! what towns ere he came to the + West, + To the main and the isles of the Strymon, and the Thracian region + possess’d! + And those that stand back from the main, enringed by their fortified + wall, + Gave o’er to Darius, the king, the sceptre and sway over all! + Those too by the channel of Helle, where southward it broadens and + glides, + By the inlets, Propontis! of thee, and the strait of the Pontic + tides, + And the isles that lie fronting our sea-board, and the Eastland looks + on each one, + Lesbo and Chios and Paros, and Samos with olive-trees grown, + And Naxos, and Myconos’ rock, and Tenos with Andros hard by, + And isles that in midmost Aegean, aloof from the continent, lie— + And Lemnos and Icaros’ hold—all these to his sceptre were bowed, + And Cnidos and neighbouring Rhodes, and Soli, and Paphos the proud, + And Cyprian Salamis, name-child of her who hath wrought us this + wrong! + Yea, and all the Ionian tract, where the Greek-born inhabitants + throng, + And the cities are teeming with gold—Darius was lord of them all, + And, great by his wisdom, he ruled, and ever there came to his call, + In stalwart array and unfailing, the warrior chiefs of our land, + And mingled allies from the tribes who bowed to his conquering hand! + But now there are none to gainsay that the gods are against us; we + lie + Subdued in the havoc of wreck, and whelmed by the wrath of the sky! + + Enter XERXES in disarray. + +XERXES. + Alas the day, that I should fall + Into this grimmest fate of all, + This ruin doubly unforeseen! + On Persia’s land what power of Fate + Descends, what louring gloom of hate? + How shall I bear my teen? + My limbs are loosened where they stand, + When I behold this aged band— + Oh God! I would that I too, I, + Among the men who went to die, + Were whelmed in earth by Fate’s command! + +CHORUS. + Ah welladay, my King! ah woe + For all our heroes’ overthrow— + For all the gallant host’s array, + For Persia’s honour, pass’d away, + For glory and heroic sway + Mown down by Fortune’s hand to-day! + Hark, how the kingdom makes its moan, + For youthful valour lost and gone, + By Xerxes shattered and undone! + He, he hath crammed the maw of hell + With bowmen brave, who nobly fell, + Their country’s mighty armament, + Ten thousand heroes deathward sent! + Alas, for all the valiant band, + O king and lord! thine Asian land + Down, down upon its knee is bent! + +XERXES. + Alas, a lamentable sound, + A cry of ruth! for I am found + A curse to land and lineage, + With none my sorrow to assuage! + +CHORUS. + Alas, a death-song desolate + I send forth, for thy home-coming! + A scream, a dirge for woe and fate, + Such as the Asian mourners sing, + A sorry and ill-omened tale + Of tears and shrieks and Eastern wail! + +XERXES. + Ay, launch the woeful sorrow’s cry, + The harsh, discordant melody, + For lo, the power, we held for sure, + Hath turned to my discomfiture! + +CHORUS. + Yea, dirges, dirges manifold + Will I send forth, for warriors bold, + For the sea-sorrow of our host! + The city mourns, and I must wail + With plashing tears our sorrow’s tale, + Lamenting for the loved and lost! + +XERXES. + Alas, the god of war, who sways + The scales of fight in diverse ways, + Gives glory to Ionia! + Ionian ships, in fenced array, + Have reaped their harvest in the bay, + A darkling harvest-field of Fate, + A sea, a shore, of doom and hate! + +CHORUS. + Cry out, and learn the tale of woe! + Where are thy comrades? where the band + Who stood beside thee, hand in hand, + A little while ago? + Where now hath Pharandákes gone, + Where Psammis, and where Pelagon? + Where now is brave Agdabatas, + And Susas too, and Datamas? + Hath Susiscanes past away, + The chieftain of Ecbatana? + +XERXES. + I left them, mangled castaways, + Flung from their Tyrian deck, and tossed + On Salaminian water-ways, + From surging tides to rocky coast! + +CHORUS. + Alack, and is Pharnuchus slain, + And Ariomardus, brave in vain? + Where is Seualces’ heart of fire? + Lilaeus, child of noble sire? + Are Tharubis and Memphis sped? + Hystaechmas, Artembáres dead? + And where is brave Masistes, where? + Sum up death’s count, that I may hear! + +XERXES. + Alas, alas, they came, their eyes surveyed + Ancestral Athens on that fatal day. + Then with a rending struggle were they laid + Upon the land, and gasped their life away! + +CHORUS. + And Batanochus’ child, Alpistus great, + Surnamed the Eye of State— + Saw you and left you him who once of old + Ten thousand thousand fighting-men enrolled? + His sire was child of Sesamas, and he + From Megabates sprang. Ah, woe is me, + Thou king of evil fate! + Hast thou lost Parthus, lost Oebares great? + Alas, the sorrow! blow succeedeth blow + On Persia’s pride; thou tellest woe on woe! + +XERXES. + Bitter indeed the pang for comrades slain, + The brave and bold! thou strikest to my soul + Pain, pain beyond forgetting, hateful pain. + My inner spirit sobs and sighs with dole! + +CHORUS. + Another yet we yearn to see, + And see not! ah, thy chivalry, + Xanthis, thou chief of Mardian men + Countless! and thou, Anchares bright, + And ye, whose cars controlled the fight, + Arsaces and Diaixis wight, + Kegdadatas, Lythimnas dear, + And Tolmus, greedy of the spear! + I stand bereft! not in thy train + Come they, as erst! ah, ne’er again + Shall they return unto our eyes, + Car-borne, ’neath silken canopies! + +XERXES. + Yea, gone are they who mustered once the host! + +CHORUS. + Yea, yea, forgotten, lost! + +XERXES. + Alas, the woe and cost! + +CHORUS. + Alas, ye heavenly powers! + Ye wrought a sorrow past belief, + A woe, of woes the chief! + With aspect stern, upon us Ate looms! + +XERXES. + Smitten are we—time tells no heavier blow! + +CHORUS. + Smitten! the doom is plain! + +XERXES. + Curse upon curse and pang on pang we know! + +CHORUS. + With the Ionian power + We clashed, in evil hour! + Woe falls on Persia’s race, yea, woe again, again! + +XERXES. + Yea, smitten am I, and my host is all to ruin hurled! + +CHORUS. + Yea verily—in mighty wreck hath sunk the Persian world! + +XERXES. + (_holding up a torn robe and a quiver_) + See you this tattered rag of pride? + +CHORUS. + I see it, welladay! + +XERXES. + See you this quiver? + +CHORUS. + Say, hath aught survived and ’scaped the fray? + +XERXES. + A store for darts it was, erewhile! + +CHORUS. + Remain but two or three! + +XERXES. + No aid is left! + +CHORUS. + Ionian folk such darts, unfearing, see! + +XERXES. + Right resolute they are! I saw disaster unforeseen. + +CHORUS. + Ah, speakest thou of wreck, of flight, of carnage that hath been? + +XERXES. + Yea, and my royal robe I rent, in terror at their fall! + +CHORUS. + Alas, alas! + +XERXES. + Yea, thrice alas! + +CHORUS. + For all have perished, all! + +XERXES. + Ah woe to us, ah joy to them who stood against our pride! + +CHORUS. + And all our strength is minishèd and sundered from our side! + +XERXES. + No escort have I! + +CHORUS. + Nay, thy friends are whelmed beneath the tide! + +XERXES. + Wail, wail the miserable doom, and to the palace hie! + +CHORUS. + Alas, alas, and woe again! + +XERXES. + Shriek, smite the breast, as I! + +CHORUS. + An evil gift, a sad exchange, of tears poured out in vain! + +XERXES. + Shrill out your simultaneous wail! + +CHORUS. + Alas the woe and pain! + +XERXES. + O, bitter is this adverse fate! + +CHORUS. + I voice the moan with thee! + +XERXES. + Smite, smite thy bosom, groan aloud for my calamity! + +CHORUS. + I mourn and am dissolved in tears! + +XERXES. + Cry, beat thy breast amain! + +CHORUS. + O king, my heart is in thy woe! + +XERXES. + Shriek, wail, and shriek again! + +CHORUS. + O agony! + +XERXES. + A blackening blow— + +CHORUS. + A grievous stripe shall fall! + +XERXES. + Yea, beat anew thy breast, ring out the doleful Mysian call! + +CHORUS. + An agony, an agony! + +XERXES. + Pluck out thy whitening beard! + +CHORUS. + By handfuls, ay, by handfuls, with dismal tear-drops smeared! + +XERXES. + Sob out thine aching sorrow! + +CHORUS. + I will thine best obey. + +XERXES. + With thine hands rend thy mantle’s fold— + +CHORUS. + Alas, woe worth the day! + +XERXES. + With thine own fingers tear thy locks, bewail the army’s weird! + +CHORUS. + By handfuls, yea, by handfuls, with tears of dole besmeared! + +XERXES. + Now let thine eyes find overflow— + +CHORUS. + I wend in wail and pain! + +XERXES. + Cry out for me an answering moan— + +CHORUS. + Alas, alas again! + +XERXES. + Shriek with a cry of agony, and lead the doleful train! + +CHORUS. + Alas, alas, the Persian land is woeful now to tread! + +XERXES. + Cry out and mourn! the city now doth wail above the dead! + +CHORUS. + I sob and moan! + +XERXES. + I bid ye now be delicate in grief! + +CHORUS. + Alas, the Persian land is sad and knoweth not relief! + +XERXES. + Alas, the triple banks of oars and those who died thereby! + +CHORUS. + Pass! I will lead you, bring you home, with many a broken sigh! + + [_Exeunt._] + + + + +THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES + +ARGUMENT + + +Laius, king of the Cadmeans, was warned by the oracle of Delphi that he +should not beget a child. But he disobeyed this command, and when a son +was born to him, he cast the child away, that he might perish on +Cithaeron. But a herdsman found the babe yet alive, and he was +nourished in Corinth and grew to manhood, not knowing his true +parentage, and was named Oedipus; and he slew, unknowingly, his father, +Laius, and afterwards saved the town of the Cadmeans from a devouring +monster, and married the widowed queen, Iocaste, and begat sons and +daughters. But when he learned what he had wrought unwittingly, he fell +into despair, and the queen slew herself. But before Oedipus died, he +laid a curse upon his male children, Eteocles and Polynices, that they +should make even division of the kingdom by the sword; and it fell out +even so, for the two brothers strove together for the inheritance, and +Polynices brought an army, from Argos, against Eteocles; and the +brothers fought, and fell each by the other’s hand, and the curse was +fulfilled. + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +ETEOCLES. +A SPY. +CHORUS OF CADMEAN MAIDENS. +ANTIGONE. +ISMENE. +A HERALD. + + + + +ETEOCLES. + Clansmen of Cadmus, at the signal given + By time and season must the ruler speak + Who sets the course and steers the ship of State + With hand upon the tiller, and with eye + Watchful against the treachery of sleep. + For if all go aright, _thank Heaven_, men say, + But if adversely—which may God forefend!— + One name on many lips, from street to street, + Would bear the bruit and rumour of the time, + _Down with Eteocles!_—a clamorous curse, + A dirge of ruin. May averting Zeus + Make good his title here, in Cadmus’ hold! + You it beseems now boys unripened yet + To lusty manhood, men gone past the prime + And increase of the full begetting seed, + And those whom youth and manhood well combined + Array for action—all to rise in aid + Of city, shrines, and altars of all powers + Who guard our land; that ne’er, to end of time, + Be blotted out the sacred service due + To our sweet mother-land and to her brood. + For she it was who to their guest-right called + Your waxing youth, was patient of the toil, + And cherished you on the land’s gracious lap, + Alike to plant the hearth and bear the shield + In loyal service, for an hour like this. + Mark now! until to-day, luck rules our scale; + For we, though long beleaguered, in the main + Have with our sallies struck the foemen hard. + But now the seer, the feeder of the birds, + (Whose art unerring and prophetic skill + Of ear and mind divines their utterance + Without the lore of fire interpreted) + Foretelleth, by the mastery of his art, + That now an onset of Achaea’s host + Is by a council of the night designed + To fall in double strength upon our walls. + Up and away, then, to the battlements, + The gates, the bulwarks! don your panoplies, + Array you at the breast-work, take your stand + On floorings of the towers, and with good heart + Stand firm for sudden sallies at the gates, + Nor hold too heinous a respect for hordes + Sent on you from afar: some god will guard! + I too, for shrewd espial of their camp, + Have sent forth scouts, and confidence is mine + They will not fail nor tremble at their task, + And, with their news, I fear no foeman’s guile. + + Enter a SPY. + +THE SPY. + Eteocles, high king of Cadmus’ folk, + I stand here with news certified and sure + From Argos’ camp, things by myself descried. + Seven warriors yonder, doughty chiefs of might, + Into the crimsoned concave of a shield + Have shed a bull’s blood, and, with hands immersed + Into the gore of sacrifice, have sworn + By Ares, lord of fight, and by thy name, + Blood-lapping Terror, _Let our oath be heard— + Either to raze the walls, make void the hold + Of Cadmus—strive his children as they may— + Or, dying here, to make the foemen’s land + With blood impasted_. Then, as memory’s gift + Unto their parents at the far-off home, + Chaplets they hung upon Adrastus’ car, + With eyes tear-dropping, but no word of moan. + For their steeled spirit glowed with high resolve, + As lions pant, with battle in their eyes. + For them, no weak alarm delays the clear + Issues of death or life! I parted thence + Even as they cast the lots, how each should lead, + Against which gate, his serried company. + Rank then thy bravest, with what speed thou may’st, + Hard by the gates, to dash on them, for now, + Full-armed, the onward ranks of Argos come! + The dust whirls up, and from their panting steeds + White foamy flakes like snow bedew the plain. + Thou therefore, chieftain! like a steersman skilled, + Enshield the city’s bulwarks, ere the blast + Of war comes darting on them! hark, the roar + Of the great landstorm with its waves of men! + Take Fortune by the forelock! for the rest, + By yonder dawn-light will I scan the field + Clear and aright, and surety of my word + Shall keep thee scatheless of the coming storm. + +ETEOCLES. + O Zeus and Earth and city-guarding gods, + And thou, my father’s Curse, of baneful might, + Spare ye at least this town, nor root it up, + By violence of the foemen, stock and stem! + For here, from home and hearth, rings Hellas’ tongue. + Forbid that e’er the yoke of slavery + Should bow this land of freedom, Cadmus’ hold! + Be ye her help! your cause I plead with mine— + A city saved doth honour to her gods! + + [_Exit ETEOCLES, etc._] + + Enter the CHORUS OF MAIDENS. + +CHORUS. +I wail in the stress of my terror, and shrill is my cry of despair. +The foemen roll forth from their camp as a billow, and onward they +bear! +Their horsemen are swift in the forefront, the dust rises up to the +sky, +A signal, though speechless, of doom, a herald more clear than a cry! +Hoof-trampled, the land of my love bears onward the din to mine ears. +As a torrent descending a mountain, it thunders and echoes and nears! +The doom is unloosened and cometh! O kings and O queens of high Heaven, +Prevail that it fall not upon us: the sign for their onset is given— +They stream to the walls from without, white-shielded and keen for the +fray. +They storm to the citadel gates— what god or what goddess can stay +The rush of their feet? to what shrine shall I bow me in terror and +pray? +O gods high-throned in bliss, we must crouch at the shrines in your +home! +Not here must we tarry and wail: shield clashes on shield as they come— +And now, even now is the hour for the robes and the chaplets of prayer! +Mine eyes feel the flash of the sword, the clang is instinct with the +spear! +Is thy hand set against us, O Ares, in ruin and wrath to o’erwhelm +Thine own immemorial land, O god of the golden helm? +Look down upon us, we beseech thee, on the land that thou lovest of +old, +And ye, O protecting gods, in pity your people behold! +Yea, save us, the maidenly troop, from the doom and despair of the +slave, +For the crests of the foemen come onward, their rush is the rush of a +wave +Rolled on by the war-god’s breath! almighty one, hear us and save +From the grasp of the Argives’ might! to the ramparts of Cadmus they +crowd, +And, clenched in the teeth of the steeds, the bits clink horror aloud! +And seven high chieftains of war, with spear and with panoply bold, +Are set, by the law of the lot, to storm the seven gates of our hold! +Be near and befriend us, O Pallas, the Zeus-born maiden of might! +O lord of the steed and the sea, be thy trident uplifted to smite +In eager desire of the fray, Poseidon! and Ares come down, +In fatherly presence revealed, to rescue Harmonia’s town! +Thine too, Aphrodite, we are! thou art mother and queen of our race, +To thee we cry out in our need, from thee let thy children have grace! +Ye too, to scare back the foe, be your cry as a wolf’s howl wild, +Thou, O the wolf-lord, and thou, of she-wolf Leto the child! +Woe and alack for the sound, for the rattle of cars to the wall, +And the creak of the grinding axles! O Hera, to thee is our call! +Artemis, maiden beloved! the air is distraught with the spears, +And whither doth destiny drive us, and where is the goal of our fears? +The blast of the terrible stones on the ridge of our wall is not +stayed, +At the gates is the brazen clash of the bucklers—Apollo to aid! +Thou too, O daughter of Zeus, who guidest the wavering fray +To the holy decision of fate, Athena! be with us to-day! +Come down to the sevenfold gates and harry the foemen away! +O gods and O sisters of gods, our bulwark and guard! we beseech +That ye give not our war-worn hold to a rabble of alien speech! +List to the call of the maidens, the hands held up for the right, +Be near us, protect us, and show that the city is dear in your sight! +Have heed for her sacrifice holy, and thought of her offerings take, +Forget not her love and her worship, be near her and smite for her +sake! + + Re-enter ETEOCLES. + +ETEOCLES + Hark to my question, things detestable! + Is this aright and for the city’s weal, + And helpful to our army thus beset, + That ye before the statues of our gods + Should fling yourselves, and scream and shriek your fears? + Immodest, uncontrolled! Be this my lot— + Never in troublous nor in peaceful days + To dwell with aught that wears a female form! + Where womankind has power, no man can house, + Where womankind feeds panic, ruin rules + Alike in house and city! Look you now— + Your flying feet, and rumour of your fears, + Have spread a soulless panic on our walls, + And they without do go from strength to strength, + And we within make breach upon ourselves! + Such fate it brings, to house with womankind. + Therefore if any shall resist my rule— + Or man, or woman, or some sexless thing— + The vote of sentence shall decide their doom, + And stones of execution, past escape, + Shall finish all. Let not a woman’s voice + Be loud in council! for the things without, + A man must care; let women keep within— + Even then is mischief all too probable! + Hear ye? or speak I to unheeding ears? + +CHORUS. + Ah, but I shudder, child of Oedipus! + I heard the clash and clang! + The axles rolled and rumbled; woe to us + Fire-welded bridles rang! + +ETEOCLES. + Say—when a ship is strained and deep in brine, + Did e’er a seaman mend his chance, who left + The helm, t’invoke the image at the prow? + +CHORUS. + Ah, but I fled to the shrines, I called to our helpers on high, + When the stone-shower roared at the portals! + I sped to the temples aloft, and loud was my call and my cry, + _Look down and deliver. Immortals!_ + +ETEOCLES. + Ay, pray amain that stone may vanquish steel! + Were not that grace of gods? ay, ay—methinks, + When cities fall, the gods go forth from them! + +CHORUS. + Ah, let me die, or ever I behold + The gods go forth, in conflagration dire! + The foemen’s rush and raid, and all our hold + Wrapt in the burning fire! + +ETEOCLES. + Cry not: on Heaven, in impotent debate! + What saith the saw?—_Good saving Strength, in verity, + Out of Obedience breeds the babe Prosperity_. + +CHORUS. + ’Tis true: yet stronger is the power divine, + And oft, when man’s estate is overbowed + With bitter pangs, disperses from his eyne + The heavy, hanging cloud! + +ETEOCLES. + Let men with sacrifice and augury + Approach the gods, when comes the tug of war; + Maids must be silent and abide within. + +CHORUS. +By grace of the gods we hold it, a city untamed of the spear, +And the battlement wards from the wall the foe and his aspect of fear! +What need of displeasure herein? + +ETEOCLES. + Ay, pay thy vows to Heaven; I grudge them not, + But—so thou strike no fear into our men— + Have calm at heart, nor be too much afraid. + +CHORUS. + Alack, it is fresh in mine ears, the clamour and crash of the fray, + And up to our holiest height I sped on my timorous way, + Bewildered, beset by the din! + +ETEOCLES. + Now, if ye hear the bruit of death or wounds, + Give not yourselves o’ermuch to shriek and scream, + For Ares ravens upon human flesh. + +CHORUS. + Ah, but the snorting of the steeds I hear! + +ETEOCLES. + Then, if thou hearest, hear them not too well! + +CHORUS. + Hark, the earth rumbles, as they close us round! + +ETEOCLES. + Enough if I am here, with plans prepared. + +CHORUS. + Alack, the battering at the gates is loud! + +ETEOCLES. + Peace! stay your tongue, or else the town may hear! + +CHORUS. + O warders of the walls, betray them not! + +ETEOCLES. + Bestrew your cries! in silence face your fate. + +CHORUS. + Gods of our city, see me not enslaved! + +ETEOCLES. + On me, on all, thy cries bring slavery. + +CHORUS. + Zeus, strong to smite, turn upon foes thy blow! + +ETEOCLES. + Zeus, what a curse are women, wrought by thee! + +CHORUS. + Weak wretches, even as men, when cities fall. + +ETEOCLES. + What! clasping gods, yet voicing thy despair? + +CHORUS. + In the sick heart, fear machete prey of speech. + +ETEOCLES. + Light is the thing I ask thee—do my will! + +CHORUS. + Ask swiftly: swiftly shall I know my power. + +ETEOCLES. + Silence, weak wretch! nor put thy friends in fear. + +CHORUS. + I speak no more: the general fate be mine! + +ETEOCLES. + I take that word as wiser than the rest. + Nay, more: these images possess thy will— + Pray, in their strength, that Heaven be on our side! + Then hear my prayers withal, and then ring out + The female triumph-note, thy privilege— + Yea, utter forth the usage Hellas knows, + The cry beside the altars, sounding clear + Encouragement to friends, alarm to foes. + But I unto all gods that guard our walls, + Lords of the plain or warders of the mart + And to Isthmus’ stream and Dirge’s rills, + I swear, if Fortune smiles and saves our town, + That we will make our altars reek with blood + Of sheep and kine, shed forth unto the gods, + And with victorious tokens front our fannies— + Corsets and cases that once our foemen wore, + Spear-shattered now—to deck these holy homes! + Be such thy vows to Heaven—away with sighs, + Away with outcry vain and barbarous, + That shall avail not, in a general doom! + But I will back, and, with six chosen men + Myself the seventh, to confront the foe + In this great aspect of a poisèd war, + Return and plant them at the sevenfold gates, + Or e’er the prompt and clamorous battle-scouts + Haste to inflame our counsel with the need. + + [_Exit ETEOCLES._] + +CHORUS. + I mark his words, yet, dark and deep, + My heart’s alarm forbiddeth sleep! + Close-clinging cares around my soul + Enkindle fears beyond control, + Presageful of what doom may fall + From the great leaguer of the wall! + So a poor dove is faint with fear + For her weak nestlings, while anew + Glides on the snaky ravisher! + In troop and squadron, hand on hand, + They climb and throng, and hemmed we stand, + While on the warders of our town + The flinty shower comes hurtling down! + + Gods born of Zeus! put forth your might + For Cadmus’ city, realm, and right! + What nobler land shall e’er be yours, + If once ye give to hostile powers + The deep rich soil, and Dirce’s wave, + The nursing stream, Poseidon gave + And Tethys’ children? Up and save! + Cast on the ranks that hem us round + A deadly panic, make them fling + Their arms in terror on the ground, + And die in carnage! thence shall spring + High honour for our clan and king! + Come at our wailing cry, and stand + As thronèd sentries of our land! + +For pity and sorrow it were that this immemorial town +Should sink to be slave of the spear, to dust and to ashes gone down, +By the gods of Achaean worship and arms of Achaean might +Sacked and defiled and dishonoured, its women the prize of the fight— +That, haled by the hair as a steed, their mantles dishevelled and torn, +The maiden and matron alike should pass to the wedlock of scorn! +I hear it arise from the city, the manifold wail of despair— +_Woe, woe for the doom that shall be_—as in grasp of the foeman they +fare! +For a woe and a weeping it is, if the maiden inviolate flower +Is plucked by the foe in his might, not culled in the bridal bower! +Alas for the hate and the horror—how say it?—less hateful by far +Is the doom to be slain by the sword, hewn down in the carnage of war! +For wide, ah! wide is the woe when the foeman has mounted the wall; +There is havoc and terror and flame, and the dark smoke broods over +all, +And wild is the war-god’s breath, as in frenzy of conquest he springs, +And pollutes with the blast of his lips the glory of holiest things! + + Up to the citadel rise clash and din, + The war-net closes in, + The spear is in the heart: with blood imbrued + Young mothers wail aloud, + For children at their breast who scream and die! + And boys and maidens fly, + Yet scape not the pursuer, in his greed + To thrust and grasp and feed! + Robber with robber joins, each calls his mate + Unto the feast of hate— + _The banquet, lo! is spread— + seize, rend, and tear! + No need to choose or share!_ + And all the wealth of earth to waste is poured— + A sight by all abhorred! + The grieving housewives eye it; + heaped and blent, + Earth’s boons are spoiled and spent, + And waste to nothingness; and O alas, + Young maids, forlorn ye pass— + Fresh horror at your hearts—beneath the power + Of those who crop the flower! + Ye own the ruffian ravisher for lord, + And night brings rites abhorred! + Woe, woe for you! upon your grief and pain + There comes a fouler stain. + + Enter on one side THE SPY; on the other ETEOCLES and the SIX + CHAMPIONS. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Look, friends! methinks the scout, who parted hence + To spy upon the foemen, comes with news, + His feet as swift as wafting chariot-wheels. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Ay, and our king, the son of Oedipus, + Comes prompt to time, to learn the spy’s report— + His heart is fainter than his foot is fast! + +THE SPY. + Well have I scanned the foe, and well can say + Unto which chief, by lot, each gate is given. + Tydeus already with his onset-cry + Storms at the gate called Proetides; but him + The seer Amphiaraus holds at halt, + Nor wills that he should cross Ismenus’ ford, + Until the sacrifices promise fair. + But Tydeus, mad with lust of blood and broil, + Like to a cockatrice at noontide hour, + Hisses out wrath and smites with scourge of tongue + The prophet-son of Oecleus—_Wise thou art, + Faint against war, and holding back from death!_ + With such revilings loud upon his lips + He waves the triple plumes that o’er his helm + Float overshadowing, as a courser’s mane; + And at his shield’s rim, terror in their tone, + Clang and reverberate the brazen bells. + And this proud sign, wrought on his shield, he bears— + The vault of heaven, inlaid with blazing stars; + And, for the boss, the bright moon glows at full, + The eye of night, the first and lordliest star. + Thus with high-vaunted armour, madly bold, + He clamours by the stream-bank, wild for war, + As a steed panting grimly on his bit, + Held in and chafing for the trumpet’s bray! + Whom wilt thou set against him? when the gates + Of Proetus yield, who can his rush repel? + +ETEOCLES. + To me, no blazon on a foeman’s shield + Shall e’er present a fear! such pointed threats + Are powerless to wound; his plumes and bells, + Without a spear, are snakes without a sting. + Nay, more—that pageant of which thou tellest— + The nightly sky displayed, ablaze with stars, + Upon his shield, palters with double sense— + One headstrong fool will find its truth anon! + For, if night fall upon his eyes in death, + Yon vaunting blazon will its own truth prove, + And he is prophet of his folly’s fall. + Mine shall it be, to pit against his power + The loyal son of Astacus, as guard + To hold the gateways—a right valiant soul, + Who has in heed the throne of Modesty + And loathes the speech of Pride, and evermore + Shrinks from the base, but knows no other fear. + He springs by stock from those whom Ares spared, + The men called Sown, a right son of the soil, + And Melanippus styled. Now, what his arm + To-day shall do, rests with the dice of war, + And Ares shall ordain it; but his cause + Hath the true badge of Right, to urge him on + To guard, as son, his motherland from wrong. + +CHORUS. + Then may the gods give fortune fair + Unto our chief, sent forth to dare + War’s terrible arbitrament! + But ah! when champions wend away, + I shudder, lest, from out the fray, + Only their blood-stained wrecks be sent! + +THE SPY. + Nay, let him pass, and the gods’ help be his! + Next, Capaneus comes on, by lot to lead + The onset at the gates Electran styled: + A giant he, more huge than Tydeus’ self, + And more than human in his arrogance— + May fate forefend his threat against our walls! + _God willing, or unwilling_—such his vaunt— + _I will lay waste this city; Pallas’ self, + Zeus’ warrior maid, although she swoop to earth + And plant her in my path, shall stay me not_. + And, for the flashes of the levin-bolt, + He holds them harmless as the noontide rays. + Mark, too, the symbol on his shield—a man + Scornfully weaponless but torch in hand, + And the flame glows within his grasp, prepared + For ravin: lo, the legend, wrought in words, + _Fire for the city bring I_, flares in gold! + Against such wight, send forth—yet whom? what man + Will front that vaunting figure and not fear? + +ETEOCLES. + Aha, this profits also, gain on gain! + In sooth, for mortals, the tongue’s utterance + Bewrays unerringly a foolish pride! + Hither stalks Capaneus, with vaunt and threat + Defying god-like powers, equipt to act, + And, mortal though he be, he strains his tongue + In folly’s ecstasy, and casts aloft + High swelling words against the ears of Zeus. + Right well I trust—if justice grants the word— + That, by the might of Zeus, a bolt of flame + In more than semblance shall descend on him. + Against his vaunts, though reckless, I have set, + To make assurance sure, a warrior stern— + Strong Polyphontes, fervid for the fray; + A sturdy bulwark, he, by grace of Heaven + And favour of his champion Artemis! + Say on, who holdeth the next gate in ward? + +CHORUS. + Perish the wretch whose vaunt affronts our home! + On him the red bolt come, + Ere to the maiden bowers his way he cleave, + To ravage and bereave! + +THE SPY. + I will say on. Eteoclus is third— + To him it fell, what time the third lot sprang + O’er the inverted helmet’s brazen rim, + To dash his stormers on Neistae gate. + He wheels his mares, who at their frontlets chafe + And yearn to charge upon the gates amain. + They snort the breath of pride, and, filled therewith, + Their nozzles whistle with barbaric sound. + High too and haughty is his shield’s device— + An armèd man who climbs, from rung to rung, + A scaling ladder, up a hostile wall, + Afire to sack and slay; and he too cries, + (By letters, full of sound, upon the shield) + _Not Ares’ self shall cast me from the wall_. + Look to it, send, against this man, a man + Strong to debar the slave’s yoke from our town. + +ETEOCLES (_pointing to_ MEGAREUS) + Send will I—even this man, with luck to aid— + By his worth sent already, not by pride + And vain pretence, is he. ’Tis Megareus, + The child of Creon, of the Earth-sprung born! + He will not shrink from guarding of the gates, + Nor fear the maddened charger’s frenzied neigh, + But, if he dies, will nobly quit the score + For nurture to the land that gave him birth, + Or from the shield-side hew two warriors down + Eteoclus and the figure that he lifts— + Ay, and the city pictured, all in one, + And deck with spoils the temple of his sire! + Announce the next pair, stint not of thy tongue! + +CHORUS. + O thou, the warder of my home, + Grant, unto us, Fate’s favouring tide, + Send on the foemen doom! + They fling forth taunts of frenzied pride, + On them may Zeus with glare of vengeance come; + +THE SPY. + Lo, next him stands a fourth and shouts amain, + By Pallas Onca’s portal, and displays + A different challenge; ’tis Hippomedon! + Huge the device that starts up from his targe + In high relief; and, I deny it not, + I shuddered, seeing how, upon the rim, + It made a mighty circle round the shield— + No sorry craftsman he, who wrought that work + And clamped it all around the buckler’s edge! + The form was Typhon: from his glowing throat + Rolled lurid smoke, spark-litten, kin of fire! + The flattened edge-work, circling round the whole, + Made strong support for coiling snakes that grew + Erect above the concave of the shield: + Loud rang the warrior’s voice; inspired for war, + He raves to slay, as doth a Bacchanal, + His very glance a terror! of such wight + Beware the onset! closing on the gates, + He peals his vaunting and appalling cry! + +ETEOCLES. + Yet first our Pallas Onca—wardress she, + Planting her foot hard by her gate—shall stand, + The Maid against the ruffian, and repel + His force, as from her brood the mother-bird + Beats back the wintered serpent’s venom’d fang + And next, by her, is Oenops’ gallant son, + Hyperbius, chosen to confront this foe, + Ready to seek his fate at Fortune’s shrine! + + In form, in valour, and in skill of arms, + None shall gainsay him. See how wisely well + Hermes hath set the brave against the strong! + Confronted shall they stand, the shield of each + Bearing the image of opposing gods: + One holds aloft his Typhon breathing fire, + But, on the other’s shield, in symbol sits + Zeus, calm and strong, and fans his bolt to flame— + Zeus, seen of all, yet seen of none to fail! + Howbeit, weak is trust reposed in Heaven— + Yet are we upon Zeus’ victorious side, + The foe, with those he worsted—if in sooth + Zeus against Typhon held the upper hand, + And if Hyperbius, (as well may hap + When two such foes such diverse emblems bear) + Have Zeus upon his shield, a saving sign. + +CHORUS. + High faith is mine that he whose shield + Bears, against Zeus, the thing of hate. + The giant Typhon, thus revealed, + A monster loathed of gods eterne + And mortal men—this doom shall earn + A shattered skull, before the gate! + +THE SPY. + Heaven send it so! + A fifth assailant now + Is set against our fifth, the northern, gate, + Fronting the death-mound where Amphion lies + The child of Zeus. + + This foeman vows his faith, + Upon a mystic spear-head which he deems + More holy than a godhead and more sure + To find its mark than any glance of eye, + That, will they, nill they, he will storm and sack + The hold of the Cadmeans. Such his oath— + His, the bold warrior, yet of childish years, + A bud of beauty’s foremost flower, the son + Of Zeus and of the mountain maid. I mark + How the soft down is waxing on his cheek, + Thick and close-growing in its tender prime— + In name, not mood, is he a maiden’s child— + Parthenopaeus; large and bright his eyes + But fierce the wrath wherewith he fronts the gate: + Yet not unheralded he takes his stand + Before the portal; on his brazen shield, + The rounded screen and shelter of his form, + I saw him show the ravening Sphinx, the fiend + That shamed our city—how it glared and moved, + Clamped on the buckler, wrought in high relief! + And in its claws did a Cadmean bear— + Nor heretofore, for any single prey, + Sped she aloft, through such a storm of darts + As now awaits her. So our foe is here— + Like, as I deem, to ply no stinted trade + In blood and broil, but traffick as is meet + In fierce exchange for his long wayfaring! + +ETEOCLES. + Ah, may they meet the doom they think to bring— + They and their impious vaunts—from those on high! + So should they sink, hurled down to deepest death! + This foe, at least, by thee Arcadian styled, + Is faced by one who bears no braggart sign, + But his hand sees to smite, where blows avail— + Actor, own brother to Hyperbius! + He will not let a boast without a blow + Stream through our gates and nourish our despair, + Nor give him way who on his hostile shield + Bears the brute image of the loathly Sphinx! + Blocked at the gate, she will rebuke the man + Who strives to thrust her forward, when she feels + Thick crash of blows, up to the city wall. + With Heaven’s goodwill, my forecast shall be true. + +CHORUS. + Home to my heart the vaunting goes, + And, quick with terror, on my head + Rises my hair, at sound of those + Who wildly, impiously rave! + If gods there be, to them I plead— + _Give them to darkness and the grave_. + +THE SPY. + Fronting the sixth gate stands another foe, + Wisest of warriors, bravest among seers— + Such must I name Amphiaraus: he, + Set steadfast at the Homoloid gate, + Berates strong Tydeus with reviling words— + _The man of blood, the bane of state and home, + To Argos, arch-allurer to all ill, + Evoker of the fury-fiend of hell, + Death’s minister, and counsellor of wrong + Unto Adrastus in this fatal field_. + Ay, and with eyes upturned and mien of scorn + He chides thy brother Polynices too + At his desert, and once and yet again + Dwells hard and meaningly upon his name + Where it saith _glory_ yet importeth _feud_. + _Yea, such thou art in act, and such thy grace + In sight of Heaven, and such in aftertime + Thy fame, for lips and ears of mortal men! + “He strove to sack the city of his sires + And temples of her gods, and brought on her + An alien armament of foreign foes. + The fountain of maternal blood outpoured + What power can staunch? even so, thy fatherland + Once by thine ardent malice stormed and ta’en, + Shall ne’er join force with thee.” For me, I know + It doth remain to let my blood enrich + The border of this land that loves me not— + Blood of a prophet, in a foreign grave! + Now, for the battle! I foreknow my doom, + Yet it shall be with honour_. So he spake, + The prophet, holding up his targe of bronze + Wrought without blazon, to the ears of men + Who stood around and heeded not his word. + For on no bruit and rumour of great deeds, + But on their doing, is his spirit set, + And in his heart he reaps a furrow rich, + Wherefrom the foison of good counsel springs. + Against him, send brave heart and hand of might, + For the god-lover is man’s fiercest foe. + +ETEOCLES. + Out on the chance that couples mortal men, + Linking the just and impious in one! + In every issue, the one curse is this— + Companionship with men of evil heart! + A baneful harvest, let none gather it! + The field of sin is rank, and brings forth death + At whiles a righteous man who goes aboard + With reckless mates, a horde of villainy, + Dies by one death with that detested crew; + At whiles the just man, joined with citizens + Ruthless to strangers, recking nought of Heaven, + Trapped, against nature, in one net with them, + Dies by God’s thrust and all-including blow. + So will this prophet die, even Oecleus’ child, + Sage, just, and brave, and loyal towards Heaven, + Potent in prophecy, but mated here + With men of sin, too boastful to be wise! + Long is their road, and they return no more, + And, at their taking-off, by hand of Zeus, + The prophet too shall take the downward way. + He will not—so I deem—assail the gate— + Not as through cowardice or feeble will, + But as one knowing to what end shall be + Their struggle in the battle, if indeed + Fruit of fulfilment lie in Loxias’ word. + He speaketh not, unless to speak avails! + Yet, for more surety, we will post a man, + Strong Lasthenes, as warder of the gate, + Stern to the foeman; he hath age’s skill, + Mated with youthful vigour, and an eye + Forward, alert; swift too his hand, to catch + The fenceless interval ’twixt shield and spear! + Yet man’s good fortune lies in hand of Heaven. + +CHORUS. + Unto our loyal cry, ye gods, give ear! + Save, save the city! turn away the spear, + Send on the foemen fear! + Outside the rampart fall they, rent and riven + Beneath the bolt of heaven! + +THE SPY. + Last, let me name yon seventh antagonist, + Thy brother’s self, at the seventh portal set— + Hear with what wrath he imprecates our doom, + Vowing to mount the wall, though banished hence, + And peal aloud the wild exulting cry— + _The town is ta’en_—then clash his sword with thine, + Giving and taking death in close embrace, + Or, if thou ’scapest, flinging upon thee, + As robber of his honour and his home, + The doom of exile such as he has borne. + So clamours he and so invokes the gods + Who guard his race and home, to hear and heed + The curse that sounds in Polynices’ name! + He bears a round shield, fresh from forge and fire, + And wrought upon it is a twofold sign— + For lo, a woman leads decorously + The figure of a warrior wrought in gold; + And thus the legend runs—_I Justice am, + And I will bring the hero home again, + To hold once more his place within this town, + Once more to pace his sire’s ancestral hall_. + Such are the symbols, by our foemen shown— + Now make thine own decision, whom to send + Against this last opponent! I have said— + Nor canst thou in my tidings find a flaw— + Thine is it, now, to steer the course aright. + +ETEOCLES. + Ah me, the madman, and the curse of Heaven! + And woe for us, the lamentable line + Of Oedipus, and woe that in this house + Our father’s curse must find accomplishment! + But now, a truce to tears and loud lament, + Lest they should breed a still more rueful wail! + As for this Polynices, named too well, + Soon shall we know how his device shall end— + Whether the gold-wrought symbols on his shield, + In their mad vaunting and bewildered pride, + Shall guide him as a victor to his home! + For had but Justice, maiden-child of Zeus, + Stood by his act and thought, it might have been! + Yet never, from the day he reached the light + Out of the darkness of his mother’s womb, + Never in childhood, nor in youthful prime, + Nor when his chin was gathering its beard, + Hath Justice hailed or claimed him as her own. + Therefore I deem not that she standeth now + To aid him in this outrage on his home! + Misnamed, in truth, were Justice, utterly, + If to impiety she lent her hand. + Sure in this faith, I will myself go forth + And match me with him; who hath fairer claim? + Ruler, against one fain to snatch the rule, + Brother with brother matched, and foe with foe, + Will I confront the issue. To the wall! + +CHORUS. + O thou true heart, O child of Oedipus, + Be not, in wrath, too like the man whose name + Murmurs an evil omen! ’Tis enough + That Cadmus’ clan should strive with Argos’ host, + For blood there is that can atone that stain! + But—brother upon brother dealing death— + Not time itself can expiate the sin! + +ETEOCLES. + If man find hurt, yet clasp his honour still, + ’Tis well; the dead have honour, nought beside. + Hurt, with dishonour, wins no word of praise! + +CHORUS. + Ah, what is thy desire? + Let not the lust and ravin of the sword + Bear thee adown the tide accursed, abhorred! + Fling off thy passion’s rage, thy spirit’s prompting dire! + +ETEOCLES. + Nay—since the god is urgent for our doom, + Let Laius’ house, by Phoebus loathed and scorned, + Follow the gale of destiny, and win + Its great inheritance, the gulf of hell! + +CHORUS. + Ruthless thy craving is— + Craving for kindred and forbidden blood + To be outpoured—a sacrifice imbrued + With sin, a bitter fruit of murderous enmities! + +ETEOCLES. + Yea, my own father’s fateful Curse proclaims— + A ghastly presence, and her eyes are dry— + _Strike! honour is the prize, not life prolonged!_ + +CHORUS. + Ah, be not urged of her! for none shall dare + To call thee _coward_, in thy throned estate! + Will not the Fury in her sable pall + Pass outward from these halls, what time the gods + Welcome a votive offering from our hands? + +ETEOCLES. + The gods! long since they hold us in contempt, + Scornful of gifts thus offered by the lost! + Why should we fawn and flinch away from doom? + +CHORUS. + Now, when it stands beside thee! for its power + May, with a changing gust of milder mood, + Temper the blast that bloweth wild and rude + And frenzied, in this hour! + +ETEOCLES. + Ay, kindled by the curse of Oedipus— + All too prophetic, out of dreamland came + The vision, meting out our sire’s estate! + +CHORUS. + Heed women’s voices, though thou love them not! + +ETEOCLES. + Say aught that may avail, but stint thy words. + +CHORUS. + Go not thou forth to guard the seventh gate! + +ETEOCLES. + Words shall not blunt the edge of my resolve. + +CHORUS. + Yet the god loves to let the weak prevail. + +ETEOCLES. + That to a swordsman, is no welcome word! + +CHORUS. + Shall thine own brother’s blood be victory’s palm? + +ETEOCLES. + Ill which the gods have sent thou canst not shun! + + [_Exit ETEOCLES._] + +CHORUS. +I shudder in dread of the power, abhorred by the gods of high heaven, +The ruinous curse of the home till roof-tree and rafter be riven! +Too true are the visions of ill, too true the fulfilment they bring +To the curse that was spoken of old by the frenzy and wrath of the +king! +Her will is the doom of the children, and Discord is kindled amain, +And strange is the Lord of Division, who cleaveth the birthright in +twain,— +The edged thing, born of the north, the steel that is ruthless and +keen, +Dividing in bitter division the lot of the children of teen! +Not the wide lowland around, the realm of their sire, shall they have, +Yet enough for the dead to inherit, the pitiful space of a grave! + + Ah, but when kin meets kin, when sire and child, + Unknowing, are defiled + By shedding common blood, and when the pit + Of death devoureth it, + Drinking the clotted stain, the gory dye— + Who, who can purify? + Who cleanse pollution, where the ancient bane + Rises and reeks again? + Whilome in olden days the sin was wrought, + And swift requital brought— + Yea on the children of the child came still + New heritage of ill! + For thrice Apollo spoke this word divine, + From Delphi’s central shrine, + To Laius—_Die thou childless!_ thus alone + Can the land’s weal be won! + But vainly with his wife’s desire he strove, + And gave himself to love, + Begetting Oedipus, by whom he died, + The fateful parricide! + The sacred seed-plot, his own mother’s womb, + He sowed, his house’s doom, + A root of blood! by frenzy lured, they came + Unto their wedded shame. + And now the waxing surge, the wave of fate, + Rolls on them, triply great— + One billow sinks, the next towers, high and dark, + Above our city’s bark— + Only the narrow barrier of the wall + Totters, as soon to fall; + And, if our chieftains in the storm go down, + What chance can save the town? + Curses, inherited from long ago, + Bring heavy freight of woe: + Rich stores of merchandise o’erload the deck, + Near, nearer comes the wreck— + And all is lost, cast out upon the wave, + Floating, with none to save! + + Whom did the gods, whom did the chief of men, + Whom did each citizen + In crowded concourse, in such honour hold, + As Oedipus of old, + When the grim fiend, that fed on human prey, + He took from us away? + +But when, in the fulness of days, he knew of his bridal unblest, +A twofold horror he wrought, in the frenzied despair of his breast— +Debarred from the grace of the banquet, the service of goblets of gold, +He flung on his children a curse for the splendour they dared to +withhold, +A curse prophetic and bitter—_The glory of wealth and of pride, +With iron, not gold, in your hands, ye shall come, at the last, to +divide!_ +Behold, how a shudder runs through me, lest now, in the fulness of +time, +The house-fiend awake and return, to mete out the measure of crime! + + Enter THE SPY. + +THE SPY. + Take heart, ye daughters whom your mothers’ milk + Made milky-hearted! lo, our city stands, + Saved from the yoke of servitude: the vaunts + Of overweening men are silent now, + And the State sails beneath a sky serene, + Nor in the manifold and battering waves + Hath shipped a single surge, and solid stands + The rampart, and the gates are made secure, + Each with a single champion’s trusty guard. + So in the main and at six gates we hold + A victory assured; but, at the seventh, + The god that on the seventh day was born, + Royal Apollo, hath ta’en up his rest + To wreak upon the sons of Oedipus + Their grandsire’s wilfulness of long ago. + +CHORUS. + What further woefulness besets our home? + +THE SPY. + The home stands safe—but ah, the princes twain— + +CHORUS. + Who? what of them? I am distraught with fear. + +THE SPY. + Hear now, and mark! the sons of Oedipus— + +CHORUS. + Ah, my prophetic soul! I feel their doom. + +THE SPY. + Have done with questions!—with their lives crushed out— + +CHORUS. + Lie they out yonder? the full horror speak! + Did hands meet hands more close than brotherly? + Came fate on each, and in the selfsame hour? + +THE SPY. + Yea, blotting out the lineage ill-starred! + Now mix your exultation and your tears, + Over a city saved, the while its lords, + Twin leaders of the fight, have parcelled out + With forged arbitrament of Scythian steel + The full division of their fatherland, + And, as their father’s imprecation bade, + Shall have their due of land, a twofold grave. + So is the city saved; the earth has drunk + Blood of twin princes, by each other slain. + +CHORUS. + O mighty Zeus and guardian powers, + The strength and stay of Cadmus’ towers! + Shall I send forth a joyous cry, + _Hail to the lord of weal renewed?_ + Or weep the misbegotten twain, + Born to a fatal destiny? + Each numbered now among the slain, + Each dying in ill fortitude, + Each _truly named_, each _child of feud?_ + + O dark and all-prevailing ill, + That broods o’er Oedipus and all his line, + Numbing my heart with mortal chill! + Ah me, this song of mine, + Which, Thyad-like, I woke, now falleth still, + Or only tells of doom, + And echoes round a tomb! + + Dead are they, dead! in their own blood they lie— + Ill-omened the concent that hails our victory! + The curse a father on his children spake + Hath faltered not, nor failed! + Nought, Laius! thy stubborn choice availed— + First to beget, then, in the after day + And for the city’s sake, + The child to slay! + For nought can blunt nor mar + The speech oracular! + Children of teen! by disbelief ye erred— + Yet in wild weeping came fulfilment of the word! + + ANTIGONE and ISMENE approach with a train of mourners, bearing the + bodies of ETEOCLES and POLYNICES. + + Look up, look forth! the doom is plain, + Nor spake the messenger in vain! + A twofold sorrow, twofold strife— + Each brave against a brother’s life! + In double doom hath sorrow come— + How shall I speak it?—on the home! + + Alas, my sisters! be your sighs the gale, + The smiting of your brows the plash of oars, + Wafting the boat, to Acheron’s dim shores + That passeth ever, with its darkened sail, + On its uncharted voyage and sunless way, + Far from thy beams, Apollo, god of day— + The melancholy bark + Bound for the common bourn, the harbour of the dark! + Look up, look yonder! from the home + Antigone, Ismene come, + On the last, saddest errand bound, + To chant a dirge of doleful sound, + With agony of equal pain + Above their brethren slain! + Their sister-bosoms surely swell, + Heart with rent heart according well + In grief for those who fought and fell! + Yet—ere they utter forth their woe— + We must awake the rueful strain + To vengeful powers, in realms below, + And mourn hell’s triumph o’er the slain! + + Alas! of all, the breast who bind,— + Yea, all the race of womankind— + O maidens, ye are most bereaved! + For you, for you the tear-drops start— + Deem that in truth, and undeceived, + Ye hear the sorrows of my heart! + (_To the dead_.) + Children of bitterness, and sternly brave— + One, proud of heart against persuasion’s voice, + One, against exile proof! ye win your choice— + Each in your fatherland, a separate grave! + + Alack, on house and heritage + They brought a baneful doom, and death for wage! + One strove through tottering walls to force his way, + One claimed, in bitter arrogance, the sway, + And both alike, even now and here, + Have closed their suit, with steel for arbiter! + And lo, the Fury-fiend of Oedipus, their sire, + Hath brought his curse to consummation dire! + Each in the left side smitten, see them laid— + The children of one womb, + Slain by a mutual doom! + Alas, their fate! the combat murderous, + The horror of the house, + The curse of ancient bloodshed, now repaid! + Yea, deep and to the heart the deathblow fell, + Edged by their feud ineffable— + By the grim curse, their sire did imprecate— + Discord and deadly hate! + Hark, how the city and its towers make moan— + How the land mourns that held them for its own! + Fierce greed and fell division did they blend, + Till death made end! + They strove to part the heritage in twain, + Giving to each a gain— + Yet that which struck the balance in the strife, + The arbitrating sword, + By those who loved the twain is held abhorred— + Loathed is the god of death, who sundered each from life! + Here, by the stroke of steel, behold! they lie— + And rightly may we cry + _Beside their fathers, let them here be laid— + Iron gave their doom, with iron their graves be made— + Alack, the slaying sword, alack, th’ entombing spade!_ + + Alas, a piercing shriek, a rending groan, + A cry unfeigned of sorrow felt at heart! + With shuddering of grief, with tears that start, + With wailful escort, let them hither come— + For one or other make divided moan! + No light lament of pity mixed with gladness, + But with true tears, poured from the soul of sadness, + Over the princes dead and their bereavèd home + + Say we, above these brethren dead, + _On citizen, on foreign foe, + Brave was their rush, and stern their blow— + Now, lowly are they laid!_ + Beyond all women upon earth + Woe, woe for her who gave them birth! + Unknowingly, her son she wed— + The children of that marriage-bed, + Each in the self-same womb, were bred— + Each by a brother’s hand lies dead! + + Yea, from one seed they sprang, and by one fate + Their heritage is desolate, + The heart’s division sundered claim from claim, + And, from their feud, death came! + Now is their hate allayed, + Now is their life-stream shed, + Ensanguining the earth with crimson dye— + Lo, from one blood they sprang, and in one blood they lie! + A grievous arbiter was given the twain— + The stranger from the northern main, + The sharp, dividing sword, + Fresh from the forge and fire + The War-god treacherous gave ill award + And brought their father’s curse to a fulfilment dire! + They have their portion—each his lot and doom, + Given from the gods on high! + Yea, the piled wealth of fatherland, for tomb, + Shall underneath them lie! + Alas, alas! with flowers of fame and pride + Your home ye glorified; + But, in the end, the Furies gathered round + With chants of boding sound, + + Shrieking, _In wild defeat and disarray, + Behold, ye pass away!_ + The sign of Ruin standeth at the gate, + There, where they strove with Fate— + And the ill power beheld the brothers’ fall, + And triumphed over all! + +ANTIGONE, ISMENE, _and_ CHORUS +(_Processional Chant_) + Thou wert smitten, in smiting, + Thou didst slay, and wert slain— + By the spear of each other + Ye lie on the plain, + And ruthless the deed that ye wrought was, and ruthless the death of + the twain! + + Take voice, O my sorrow! + Flow tear upon tear— + Lay the slain by the slayer, + Made one on the bier! + Our soul in distraction is lost, and we mourn o’er the prey of the + spear! + + Ah, woe for your ending, + Unbrotherly wrought! + And woe for the issue, + The fray that ye fought, + The doom of a mutual slaughter whereby to the grave ye are brought! + + Ah, twofold the sorrow— + The heard and the seen! + And double the tide + Of our tears and our teen, + As we stand by our brothers in death and wail for the love that has + been! + + O grievous the fate + That attends upon wrong! + Stern ghost of our sire, + Thy vengeance is long! + Dark Fury of hell and of death, the hands of thy kingdom are strong! + + O dark were the sorrows + That exile hath known! + He slew, but returned not + Alive to his own! + He struck down a brother, but fell, in the moment of triumph hewn + down! + + O lineage accurst, + O doom and despair! + Alas, for their quarrel, + The brothers that were! + And woe! for their pitiful end, who once were our love and our care! + + O grievous the fate + That attends upon wrong! + Stern ghost of our sire, + Thy vengeance is long! + Dark Fury of hell and of death, the hands of thy kingdom are + strong! + + By proof have ye learnt it! + At once and as one, + O brothers beloved, + To death ye were done! + Ye came to the strife of the sword, and behold! ye are both + overthrown! + + O grievous the tale is, + And grievous their fall, + To the house, to the land, + And to me above all! + Ah God! for the curse that hath come, the sin and the ruin withal! + + O children distraught, + Who in madness have died! + Shall ye rest with old kings + In the place of their pride? + Alas for the wrath of your sire if he findeth you laid by his side! + + Enter a HERALD. + +HERALD. + I bear command to tell to one and all + What hath approved itself and now is law, + Ruled by the counsellors of Cadmus’ town. + For this Eteocles, it is resolved + To lay him on his earth-bed, in this soil, + Not without care and kindly sepulture. + For why? he hated those who hated us, + And, with all duties blamelessly performed + Unto the sacred ritual of his sires, + He met such end as gains our city’s grace,— + With auspices that do ennoble death. + Such words I have in charge to speak of him: + But of his brother Polynices, this— + Be he cast out unburied, for the dogs + To rend and tear: for he presumed to waste + The land of the Cadmeans, had not Heaven— + Some god of those who aid our fatherland— + Opposed his onset, by his brother’s spear, + To whom, tho’ dead, shall consecration come! + Against him stood this wretch, and brought a horde + Of foreign foemen, to beset our town. + He therefore shall receive his recompense, + Buried ignobly in the maw of kites— + No women-wailers to escort his corpse + Nor pile his tomb nor shrill his dirge anew— + Unhouselled, unattended, cast away! + So, for these brothers, doth our State ordain. + +ANTIGONE. + And I—to those who make such claims of rule + In Cadmus’ town—I, though no other help, + (_Pointing to the body of_ POLYNICES) + I, I will bury this my brother’s corse + And risk your wrath and what may come of it! + It shames me not to face the State, and set + Will against power, rebellion resolute: + Deep in my heart is set my sisterhood, + My common birthright with my brothers, born + All of one womb, her children who, for woe, + Brought forth sad offspring to a sire ill-starred. + Therefore, my soul! take thou thy willing share, + In aid of him who now can will no more, + Against this outrage: be a sister true, + While yet thou livest, to a brother dead! + Him never shall the wolves with ravening maw + Rend and devour: I do forbid the thought! + I for him, I—albeit a woman weak— + In place of burial-pit, will give him rest + By this protecting handful of light dust + Which, in the lap of this poor linen robe, + I bear to hallow and bestrew his corpse + With the due covering. Let none gainsay! + Courage and craft shall arm me, this to do. + +HERALD. + I charge thee, not to flout the city’s law! + +ANTIGONE. + I charge thee, use no useless heralding! + +HERALD. + Stern is a people newly ’scaped from death. + +ANTIGONE. + Whet thou their sternness! Burial he shall have. + +HERALD. + How? Grace of burial, to the city’s foe? + +ANTIGONE. + God hath not judged him separate in guilt. + +HERALD. + True—till he put this land in jeopardy. + +ANTIGONE. + His rights usurped, he answered wrong with wrong. + +HERALD. + Nay—but for one man’s sin he smote the State. + +ANTIGONE. + Contention doth out-talk all other gods! Prate thou no more—I will to + bury him. + +HERALD. + Will, an thou wilt! but I forbid the deed. + + [_Exit the HERALD._] + +CHORUS. + Exulting Fates, who waste the line + And whelm the house of Oedipus! + Fiends, who have slain, in wrath condign, + The father and the children thus! + What now befits it that I do, + What meditate, what undergo? + Can I the funeral rite refrain, + Nor weep for Polynices slain? + But yet, with fear I shrink and thrill, + Presageful of the city’s will! + Thou, O Eteocles, shalt have + Full rites, and mourners at thy grave, + But he, thy brother slain, shall he, + With none to weep or cry _Alas_, + To unbefriended burial pass? + Only one sister o’er his bier, + To raise the cry and pour the tear— + Who can obey such stern decree? + +SEMI-CHORUS. + Let those who hold our city’s sway + Wreak, or forbear to wreak, their will + On those who cry, _Ah, well-a-day!_ + Lamenting Polynices still! + We will go forth and, side by side + With her, due burial will provide! + Royal he was; to him be paid + Our grief, wherever he be laid! + The crowd may sway, and change, and still + Take its caprice for Justice’ will! + But we this dead Eteocles, + As Justice wills and Right decrees, + Will bear unto his grave! + For—under those enthroned on high + And Zeus’ eternal royalty— + He unto us salvation gave! + He saved us from a foreign yoke,— + A wild assault of outland folk, + A savage, alien wave! + + [_Exeunt._] + + + + +PROMETHEUS BOUND + +ARGUMENT + + +In the beginning, Ouranos and Gaia held sway over Heaven and Earth. And +manifold children were born unto them, of whom were Cronos, and +Okeanos, and the Titans, and the Giants. But Cronos cast down his +father Ouranos, and ruled in his stead, until Zeus his son cast him +down in his turn, and became King of Gods and men. Then were the Titans +divided, for some had good will unto Cronos, and others unto Zeus; +until Prometheus, son of the Titan Iapetos, by wise counsel, gave the +victory to Zeus. But Zeus held the race of mortal men in scorn, and was +fain to destroy them from the face of the earth; yet Prometheus loved +them, and gave secretly to them the gift of fire, and arts whereby they +could prosper upon the earth. Then was Zeus sorely angered with +Prometheus, and bound him upon a mountain, and afterward overwhelmed +him in an earthquake, and devised other torments against him for many +ages; yet could he not slay Prometheus, for he was a God. + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +STRENGTH AND FORCE. +HEPHAESTUS. +PROMETHEUS. +CHORUS OF SEA-NYMPHS. +DAUGHTERS OF OCEANUS. +OCEANUS. +IO. +HERMES. + +_Scene—A rocky ravine in the mountains of Scythia_. + + +STRENGTH. + Lo, the earth’s bound and limitary land, + The Scythian steppe, the waste untrod of men! + Look to it now, Hephaestus—thine it is, + Thy Sire obeying, this arch-thief to clench + Against the steep-down precipice of rock, + With stubborn links of adamantine chain. + Look thou: thy flower, the gleaming plastic fire, + He stole and lent to mortal man—a sin + That gods immortal make him rue to-day, + Lessoned hereby to own th’ omnipotence + Of Zeus, and to repent his love to man! + +HEPHAESTUS. + O Strength and Force, for you the best of Zeus + Stands all achieved, and nothing bars your will: + But I—I dare not bind to storm-vext cleft + One of our race, immortal as are we. + Yet, none the less, necessity constrains, + For Zeus, defied, is heavy in revenge! + (_To PROMETHEUS_) + + O deep-devising child of Themis sage, + Small will have I to do, or thou to bear, + What yet we must. Beyond the haunt of man + Unto this rock, with fetters grimly forged, + I must transfix and shackle up thy limbs, + Where thou shalt mark no voice nor human form, + But, parching in the glow and glare of sun, + Thy body’s flower shall suffer a sky-change; + And gladly wilt thou hail the hour when Night + Shall in her starry robe invest the day, + Or when the Sun shall melt the morning rime. + But, day or night, for ever shall the load + Of wasting agony, that may not pass, + Wear thee away; for know, the womb of Time + Hath not conceived a power to set thee free. + Such meed thou hast, for love toward mankind + For thou, a god defying wrath of gods, + Beyond the ordinance didst champion men, + And for reward shalt keep a sleepless watch, + Stiff-kneed, erect, nailed to this dismal rock, + With manifold laments and useless cries + Against the will inexorable of Zeus. + Hard is the heart of fresh-usurpèd power! + +STRENGTH. + Enough of useless ruth! why tarriest thou? + Why pitiest one whom all gods wholly hate, + One who to man gave o’er thy privilege? + +HEPHAESTUS. + Kinship and friendship wring my heart for him. + +STRENGTH. + Ay—but how disregard our Sire’s command? + Is not thy pity weaker than thy fear? + +HEPHAESTUS. + Ruthless as ever, brutal to the full! + +STRENGTH. + Tears can avail him nothing: strive not thou, + Nor waste thine efforts thus unaidingly. + +HEPHAESTUS. + Out on my cursed mastery of steel! + +STRENGTH. + Why curse it thus? In sooth that craft of thine + Standeth assoiled of all that here is wrought. + +HEPHAESTUS. + Would that some other were endowed therewith! + +STRENGTH. + All hath its burden, save the rule of Heaven, + And freedom is for Zeus, and Zeus alone. + +HEPHAESTUS. + I know it; I gainsay no word hereof. + +STRENGTH. + Up, then, and hasten to do on his bonds, + Lest Zeus behold thee indolent of will! + +HEPHAESTUS. + Ah well—behold the armlets ready now! + +STRENGTH. + Then cast them round his arms and with sheer strength + Swing down the hammer, clinch him to the crags. + +HEPHAESTUS. + Lo, ’tis toward—no weakness in the work! + +STRENGTH. + Smite harder, wedge it home—no faltering here! + He hath a craft can pass th’ impassable! + +HEPHAESTUS. + This arm is fast, inextricably bound. + +STRENGTH. + Then shackle safe the other, that he know + His utmost craft is weaker far than Zeus. + +HEPHAESTUS. + He, but none other, can accuse mine art! + +STRENGTH. + Now, strong and sheer, drive thro’ from breast to back + The adamantine wedge’s stubborn fang. + +HEPHAESTUS. + Alas, Prometheus! I lament thy pain. + +STRENGTH. + Thou, faltering and weeping sore for those + Whom Zeus abhors! ’ware, lest thou rue thy tears! + +HEPHAESTUS. + Thou gazest on a scene that poisons sight. + +STRENGTH. + I gaze on one who suffers his desert. + Now between rib and shoulder shackle him— + +HEPHAESTUS. + Do it I must—hush thy superfluous charge! + +STRENGTH. + Urge thee I will—ay, hound thee to the prey. + Step downward now, enring his legs amain! + +HEPHAESTUS. + Lo, it is done—’twas but a moment’s toil. + +STRENGTH. + Now, strongly strike, drive in the piercing gyves— + Stern is the power that oversees thy task! + +HEPHAESTUS. + Brutish thy form, thy speech brutality! + +STRENGTH. + Be gentle, an thou wilt, but blame not me + For this my stubbornness and anger fell! + +HEPHAESTUS. + Let us go hence; his legs are firmly chained. + +STRENGTH (_To_ PROMETHEUS). +Aha! there play the insolent, and steal, +For creatures of a day, the rights of gods! +O deep delusion of the powers that named thee +Prometheus, the Fore-thinker! thou hast need +Of others’ forethought and device, whereby +Thou may’st elude this handicraft of ours! + +[_Exeunt HEPHAESTUS, STRENGTH and FORCE.—A pause._] + +PROMETHEUS. + O Sky divine, O Winds of pinions swift, + O fountain-heads of Rivers, and O thou, + Illimitable laughter of the Sea! + O Earth, the Mighty Mother, and thou Sun, + Whose orbed light surveyeth all—attest, + What ills I suffer from the gods, a god! + Behold me, who must here sustain + The marring agonies of pain, + Wrestling with torture, doomed to bear + Eternal ages, year on year! + Such and so shameful is the chain + Which Heaven’s new tyrant doth ordain + To bind me helpless here. + Woe! for the ruthless present doom! + Woe! for the Future’s teeming womb! + On what far dawn, in what dim skies, + Shall star of my deliverance rise? + + Truce to this utterance! to its dimmest verge + I do foreknow the future, hour by hour, + Nor can whatever pang may smite me now + Smite with surprise. The destiny ordained + I must endure to the best, for well I wot + That none may challenge with Necessity. + Yet is it past my patience, to reveal, + Or to conceal, these issues of my doom. + Since I to mortals brought prerogatives, + Unto this durance dismal am I bound: + Yea, I am he who in a fennel-stalk, + By stealthy sleight, purveyed the fount of fire, + The teacher, proven thus, and arch-resource + Of every art that aideth mortal men. + Such was my sin: I earn its recompense, + Rock-riveted, and chained in height and cold. + + [_A pause._] + + + Listen! what breath of sound, + what fragrance soft hath risen + Upward to me? is it some godlike essence, + Or being half-divine, or mortal presence? + Who to the world’s end comes, unto my craggy prison? + Craves he the sight of pain, or what would he behold? + Gaze on a god in tortures manifold, + Heinous to Zeus, and scorned by all + Whose footsteps tread the heavenly hall, + Because too deeply, from on high, + I pitied man’s mortality! + Hark, and again! that fluttering sound + Of wings that whirr and circle round, + And their light rustle thrills the air— + How all things that unseen draw near + Are to me Fear! + + Enter the CHORUS OF OCEANIDES in winged cars. + +CHORUS. + Ah, fear us not! as friends, with rivalry + Of swiftly-vying wings, we came together + Unto this rock and thee! + With our sea-sire we pleaded hard, until + We won him to our will, + And swift the wafting breezes bore us hither. + The heavy hammer’s steely blow + Thrilled to our ocean-cavern from afar, + Banished soft shyness from our maiden brow, + And with unsandalled feet we come, in winged car! + +PROMETHEUS. + Ah well-a-day! ye come, ye come + From the Sea-Mother’s teeming home— + Children of Tethys and the sire + Who around Earth rolls, gyre on gyre, + His sleepless ocean-tide! + Look on me—shackled with what chain, + Upon this chasm’s beetling side + I must my dismal watch sustain! + +CHORUS. + Yea, I behold, Prometheus! and my fears + Draw swiftly o’er mine eyes a mist fulfilled of tears, + When I behold thy frame + Bound, wasting on the rock, and put to shame + By adamantine chains! + The rudder and the rule of Heaven + Are to strange pilots given: + Zeus with new laws and strong caprice holds sway, + Unkings the ancient Powers, their might constrains, + And thrusts their pride away! + +PROMETHEUS. + Had he but hurled me, far beneath + The vast and ghostly halls of Death, + Down to the limitless profound + Of Tartarus, in fetters bound, + Fixed by his unrelenting hand! + So had no man, nor God on high, + Exulted o’er mine agony— + But now, a sport to wind and sky, + Mocked by my foes, I stand! + +CHORUS. + What God can wear such ruthless heart + As to delight in ill? + Who in thy sorrow bears not part? + Zeus, Zeus alone! for he, with wrathful will, + Clenched and inflexible, + Bears down Heaven’s race—nor end shall be, till hate + His soul shall satiate, + Or till, by some device, some other hand + Shall wrest from him his sternly-clasped command! + +PROMETHEUS. + Yet,—though in shackles close and strong + I lie in wasting torments long,— + Yet the new tyrant, ’neath whose nod + Cowers down each blest subservient god, + One day, far hence, my help shall need, + The destined stratagem to read, + Whereby, in some yet distant day, + Zeus shall be reaved of pride and sway: + And no persuasion’s honied spell + Shall lure me on, the tale to tell; + And no stern threat shall make me cower + And yield the secret to his power, + Until his purpose be foregone, + And shackles yield, and he atone + The deep despite that he hath done! + +CHORUS. + O strong in hardihood, thou striv’st amain + Against the stress of pain! + But yet too free, too resolute thy tongue + In challenging thy wrong! + Ah, shuddering dread doth make my spirit quiver, + And o’er thy fate sits Fear! + I see not to what shore of safety ever + Thy bark can steer— + In depths unreached the will of Zeus doth dwell, + Hidden, implacable! + +PROMETHEUS. + Ay, stern is Zeus, and Justice stands, + Wrenched to his purpose, in his hands— + Yet shall he learn, perforce, to know + A milder mood, when falls the blow— + His ruthless wrath he shall lay still, + And he and I with mutual will + In concord’s bond shall go. + +CHORUS. + Unveil, say forth to us the tale entire, + Under what imputation Zeus laid hands + On thee, to rack thee thus with shameful pangs? + Tell us—unless the telling pain thee—all! + +PROMETHEUS. + Grievous alike are these things for my tongue, + Grievous for silence—rueful everyway. + Know that, when first the gods began their strife, + And heaven was all astir with mutual feud— + Some willing to fling Cronos from his throne, + And set, forsooth, their Zeus on high as king, + And other some in contrariety + Striving to bar him from heaven’s throne for aye— + Thereon I sought to counsel for the best + The Titan brood of Ouranos and Earth; + Yet I prevailed not, for they held in scorn + My glozing wiles, and, in their hardy pride, + Deemed that sans effort they could grasp the sway. + But, for my sake, my mother Themis oft, + And Earth, one symbol of names manifold, + Had held me warned, how in futurity + It stood ordained that not by force or power, + But by some wile, the victors must prevail. + In such wise I interpreted; but they + Deigned not to cast their heed thereon at all. + Then, of things possible, I deemed it best, + Joining my mother’s wisdom to mine own, + To range myself with Zeus, two wills in one. + Thus, by device of mine, the murky depth + Of Tartarus enfoldeth Cronos old + And those who strove beside him. Such the aid + I gave the lord of heaven—my meed for which + He paid me thus, a penal recompense! + For ’tis the inward vice of tyranny, + To deem of friends as being secret foes. + Now, to your question—hear me clearly show + On what imputed fault he tortures me. + Scarce was he seated on his father’s throne, + When he began his doles of privilege + Among the lesser gods, allotting power + In trim division; while of mortal men + Nothing he recked, nor of their misery + Nay, even willed to blast their race entire + To nothingness, and breed another brood; + And none but I was found to cross his will. + I dared it, I alone; I rescued men + From crushing ruin and th’ abyss of hell— + Therefore am I constrained in chastisement + Grievous to bear and piteous to behold,— + Yea, firm to feel compassion for mankind, + Myself was held unworthy of the same— + Ay, beyond pity am I ranged and ruled + To sufferance—a sight that shames his sway! + +CHORUS. + A heart of steel, a mould of stone were he, + Who could complacently behold thy pains + I came not here as craving for this sight, + And, seeing it, I stand heart-wrung with pain. + +PROMETHEUS. + Yea truly, kindly eyes must pity me! + +CHORUS. + Say, didst thou push transgression further still? + +PROMETHEUS. + Ay, man thro’ me ceased to foreknow his death. + +CHORUS. + What cure couldst thou discover for this curse? + +PROMETHEUS. + Blind hopes I sent to nestle in man’s heart. + +CHORUS. + This was a goodly gift thou gavest them. + +PROMETHEUS. + Yet more I gave them, even the boon of fire. + +CHORUS. + What? radiant fire, to things ephemeral? + +PROMETHEUS. + Yea—many an art too shall they learn thereby! + +CHORUS. + Then, upon imputation of such guilt, + Doth Zeus without surcease torment thee thus? + Is there no limit to thy course of pain? + +PROMETHEUS. + None, till his own will shall decree an end. + +CHORUS. + And how shall he decree it? say, what hope? + Seëst thou not thy sin? yet of that sin + It irks me sore to speak, as thee to hear. + Nay, no more words hereof; bethink thee now, + From this ordeal how to find release. + +PROMETHEUS. + Easy it is, for one whose foot is set + Outside the slough of pain, to lesson well + With admonitions him who lies therein. + With perfect knowledge did I all I did, + I willed to sin, and sinned, I own it all— + I championed men, unto my proper pain. + Yet scarce I deemed that, in such cruel doom, + Withering upon this skyey precipice, + I should inherit lonely mountain crags, + Here, in a vast tin-neighboured solitude. + Yet list not to lament my present pains, + But, stepping from your cars unto the ground, + Listen, the while I tell the future fates + Now drawing near, until ye know the whole. + Grant ye, O grant my prayer, be pitiful + To one now racked with woe! the doom of pain + Wanders, but settles, soon or late, on all. + +CHORUS. + To willing hearts, and schooled to feel, + Prometheus, came thy tongue’s appeal; + Therefore we leave, with lightsome tread, + The flying cars in which we sped— + We leave the stainless virgin air + Where winged creatures float and fare, + And by thy side, on rocky land, + Thus gently we alight and stand, + Willing, from end to end, to know + Thine history of woe. + + The CHORUS alight from their winged cars. Enter OCEANUS mounted on a + griffin. + +OCEANUS. + Thus, over leagues and leagues of space + I come, Prometheus, to thy place— + By will alone, not rein, I guide + The winged thing on which I ride; + And much, be sure, I mourn thy case— + Kinship is Pity’s bond, I trow; + And, wert thou not akin, I vow + None other should have more than thou + Of my compassion’s grace! + ’Tis said, and shall be proved; no skill + Have I to gloze and feign goodwill! + Name but some mode of helpfulness, + And thou wilt in a trice confess + That I, Oceanus, am best + Of all thy friends, and trustiest. + +PROMETHEUS. + Ho, what a sight of marvel! what, thou too + Comest to contemplate my pains, and darest— + (Yet how, I wot not!) leaving far behind + The circling tide, thy namefellow, and those + Rock-arched, self-hollowed caverns—thus to come + Unto this land, whose womb bears iron ore? + Art come to see my lot, resent with me + The ills I bear? Well, gaze thy fill! behold + Me, friend of Zeus, part-author of his power— + Mark, in what ruthlessness he bows me down! + +OCEANUS. + Yea, I behold, Prometheus! and would warn + Thee, spite of all thy wisdom, for thy weal! + Learn now thyself to know, and to renew + A rightful spirit within thee, for, made new + With pride of place, sits Zeus among the gods! + Now, if thou choosest to fling forth on him + Words rough with anger thus and edged with scorn, + Zeus, though he sit aloof, afar, on high, + May hear thine utterance, and make thee deem + His present wrath a mere pretence of pain. + Banish, poor wretch! the passion of thy soul, + And seek, instead, acquittance from thy pangs! + Belike my words seem ancientry to thee— + Such, natheless, O Prometheus, is the meed + That doth await the overweening tongue! + Meek wert thou never, wilt not crouch to pain, + But, set amid misfortunes, cravest more! + Now—if thou let thyself be schooled by me— + Thou must not kick against the goad. Thou knowest, + A despot rules, harsh, resolute, supreme, + Whose law is will. Yet shall I go to him, + With all endeavour to relieve thy plight— + So thou wilt curb the tempest of thy tongue! + Surely thou knowest, in thy wisdom deep, + The saw—_Who vaunts amiss, quick pain is his_. + +PROMETHEUS. + O enviable thou, and unaccused— + Thou who wast art and part in all I dared! + And now, let be! make this no care of thine, + For Zeus is past persuasion—urge him not! + Look to thyself, lest thine emprise thou rue. + +OCEANUS. + Thou hast more skill to school thy neighbour’s fault + Than to amend thine own: ’tis proved and plain, + By fact, not hearsay, that I read this well. + Yet am I fixed to go—withhold me not— + Assured I am, assured, that Zeus will grant + The boon I crave, the loosening of thy bonds. + +PROMETHEUS. + In part I praise thee, to the end will praise; + Goodwill thou lackest not, but yet forbear + Thy further trouble! If thy heart be fain, + Bethink thee that thy toil avails me not. + Nay, rest thee well, aloof from danger’s brink! + I will not ease my woe by base relief + In knowing others too involved therein. + Away the thought! for deeply do I rue + My brother Atlas’ doom. Far off he stands + In sunset land, and on his shoulder bears + The pillar’d mountain-mass whose base is earth, + Whose top is heaven, and its ponderous load + Too great for any grasp. With pity too + I saw Earth’s child, the monstrous thing of war, + That in Cilicia’s hollow places dwelt— + Typho; I saw his hundred-headed form + Crushed and constrained; yet once his stride was fierce, + His jaws gaped horror and their hiss was death, + And all heaven’s host he challenged to the fray, + While, as one vowed to storm the power of Zeus, + Forth from his eyes he shot a demon glare. + It skilled not: the unsleeping bolt of Zeus, + The downward levin with its rush of flame, + Smote on him, and made dumb for evermore + The clamour of his vaunting: to the heart + Stricken he lay, and all that mould of strength + Sank thunder-shattered to a smouldering ash; + And helpless now and laid in ruin huge + He lieth by the narrow strait of sea, + Crushed at the root of Etna’s mountain-pile. + High on the pinnacles whereof there sits + Hephaestus, sweltering at the forge; and thence + On some hereafter day shall burst and stream + The lava-floods, that shall with ravening fangs + Gnaw thy smooth lowlands, fertile Sicily! + Such ire shall Typho from his living grave + Send seething up, such jets of fiery surge, + Hot and unslaked, altho’ himself be laid + In quaking ashes by Zeus’ thunderbolt. + But thou dost know hereof, nor needest me + To school thy sense: thou knowest safety’s road— + Walk then thereon! I to the dregs will drain, + Till Zeus relent from wrath, my present woe. + +OCEANUS. + Nay, but, Prometheus, know’st thou not the saw— + _Words can appease the angry soul’s disease?_ + +PROMETHEUS. + Ay—if in season one apply their salve, + Not scorching wrath’s proud flesh with caustic tongue. + +OCEANUS. + But in wise thought and venturous essay + Perceivest thou a danger? prithee tell! + +PROMETHEUS. + I see a fool’s good nature, useless toil. + +OCEANUS. + Let me be sick of that disease; I know, + Loyalty, masked as folly, wins the way. + +PROMETHEUS. + But of thy blunder I shall bear the blame. + +OCEANUS. + Clearly, thy word would send me home again. + +PROMETHEUS. + Lest thy lament for me should bring thee hate. + +OCEANUS. + Hate from the newly-throned Omnipotence? + +PROMETHEUS. + Be heedful—lest his will be wroth with thee! + +OCEANUS. + Thy doom, Prometheus, cries to me _Beware!_ + +PROMETHEUS. + Mount, make away, discretion at thy side! + +OCEANUS. + Thy word is said to me in act to go: + For lo, my hippogriff with waving wings + Fans the smooth course of air, and fain is he + To rest his limbs within his ocean stall. + + [_Exit OCEANUS._] + +CHORUS. +For the woe and the wreck and the doom, Prometheus I utter my sighs; +O’er my cheek flows the fountain of tears from tender, compassionate +eyes. +For stern and abhorred is the sway of Zeus on his self-sought throne, +And ruthless the spear of his scorn, to the gods of the days that are +done. +And over the limitless earth goes up a disconsolate cry: +_Ye were all so fair, and have fallen; so great and your might has gone +by!_ +So wails with a mighty lament the voice of the mortals, who dwell +In the Eastland, the home of the holy, for thee and the fate that +befel; +And they of the Colchian land, the maidens whose arm is for war; +And the Scythian bowmen, who roam by the lake of Maeotis afar; +And the blossom of battling hordes, that flowers upon Caucasus’ height, +With clashing of lances that pierce, and with clamour of swords that +smite. +Strange is thy sorrow! one only I know who has suffered thy pain— +Atlas the Titan, the god, in a ruthless, invincible chain! +He beareth for ever and ever the burden and poise of the sky, +The vault of the rolling heaven, and earth re-echoes his cry. +The depths of the sea are troubled; they mourn from their caverns +profound, +And the darkest and innermost hell moans deep with a sorrowful sound; +And the rivers of waters, that flow from the fountains that spring +without stain, +Are as one in the great lamentation, and moan for thy piteous pain. + +PROMETHEUS. + Deem not that I in pride or wilful scorn + Restrain my speech; ’tis wistful memory + That rends my heart, when I behold myself + Abased to wretchedness. To these new gods + I and none other gave their lots of power + In full attainment; no more words hereof + I speak—the tale ye know. But listen now + Unto the rede of mortals and their woes, + And how their childish and unreasoning state + Was changed by me to consciousness and thought. + Yet not in blame of mortals will I speak, + But as in proof of service wrought to them. + For, in the outset, eyes they had and saw not; + And ears they had but heard not; age on age, + Like unsubstantial shapes in vision seen, + They groped at random in the world of sense, + Nor knew to link their building, brick with brick, + Nor how to turn its aspect to the sun, + Nor how to join the beams by carpentry, + In hollowed caves they dwelt, as emmets dwell, + Weak feathers for each blast, in sunless caves. + Nor had they certain forecast of the cold, + Nor of the advent of the flowery spring, + Nor of the fruitful summer. All they wrought, + Unreasoning they wrought, till I made clear + The laws of rising stars, and inference dim, + More hard to learn, of what their setting showed. + I taught to them withal that art of arts, + The lore of number, and the written word + That giveth sense to sound, the tool wherewith + The gift of memory was wrought in all, + And so came art and song. I too was first + To harness ’neath the yoke strong animals, + Obedient made to collar and to weight, + That they might bear whate’er of heaviest toil + Mortals endured before. For chariots too + I trained, and docile service of the rein, + Steeds, the delight of wealth and pomp and pride. + I too, none other, for seafarers wrought + Their ocean-roaming canvas-wingèd cars. + Such arts of craft did I, unhappy I, + Contrive for mortals: now, no feint I have + Whereby I may elude my present woe. + +CHORUS. + A rueful doom is thine! distraught of soul, + And all astray, and like some sorry leech + Art thou, repining at thine own disease, + Unskilled, unknowing of the needful cure. + +PROMETHEUS. + More wilt thou wonder when the rest thou hearest— + What arts for them, what methods I devised. + Foremost was this: if any man fell sick, + No aiding art he knew, no saving food, + No curing oil nor draught, but all in lack + Of remedies they dwindled, till I taught + The medicinal blending of soft drugs, + Whereby they ward each sickness from their side. + I ranged for them the methods manifold + Of the diviner’s art; I first discerned + Which of night’s visions hold a truth for day, + I read for them the lore of mystic sounds, + Inscrutable before; the omens seen + Which bless or ban a journey, and the flight + Of crook-clawed birds, did I make clear to man— + And how they soar upon the right, for weal, + How, on the left, for evil; how they dwell, + Each in its kind, and what their loves and hates, + And which can flock and roost in harmony. + From me, men learned what deep significance + Lay in the smoothness of the entrails set + For sacrifice, and which, of various hues, + Showed them a gift accepted of the gods; + They learned what streaked and varied comeliness + Of gall and liver told; I led them, too, + (By passing thro’ the flame the thigh-bones, wrapt + In rolls of fat, and th’ undivided chine), + Unto the mystic and perplexing lore + Of omens; and I cleared unto their eyes + The forecasts, dim and indistinct before, + Shown in the flickering aspect of a flame. + Of these, enough is said. The other boons, + Stored in the womb of earth, in aid of men— + Copper and iron, silver, gold withal— + Who dares affirm he found them ere I found? + None—well I know—save who would babble lies! + Know thou, in compass of a single phrase— + All arts, for mortals’ use, Prometheus gave. + +CHORUS. + Nay, aid not mortal men beyond their due, + Holding too light a reckoning of thyself + And of thine own distress: good hope have I + To see thee once again from fetters free + And matched with Zeus in parity of power. + +PROMETHEUS. + Not yet nor thus hath Fate ordained the end— + Not until age-long pains and countless woes + Have bent and bowed me, shall my shackles fall; + Art strives too feebly against destiny. + +CHORUS. + But what hand rules the helm of destiny? + +PROMETHEUS. + The triform Fates, and Furies unforgiving. + +CHORUS. + Then is the power of Zeus more weak than theirs? + +PROMETHEUS. + He may not shun the fate ordained for him. + +CHORUS. + What is ordained for him, save endless rule? + +PROMETHEUS. + Seek not for answer: this thou may’st not learn. + +CHORUS. + Surely thy silence hides some solemn thing. + +PROMETHEUS. + Think on some other theme: ’tis not the hour, + This secret to unveil; in deepest dark + Be it concealed: by guarding it shall I + Escape at last from bonds, and scorn, and pain. + +CHORUS. + O never may my weak and faint desire + Strive against God most high— + Never be slack in service, never tire + Of sacred loyalty; + Nor fail to wend unto the altar-side, + Where with the blood of kine + Steams up the offering, by the quenchless tide + Of Ocean, Sire divine! + Be this within my heart, indelible— + _Offend not with thy tongue!_ + Sweet, sweet it is, in cheering hopes to dwell, + Immortal, ever young, + In maiden gladness fostering evermore + A soft content of soul! + But ah, I shudder at thine anguish sore— + Thy doom thro’ years that roll! + Thou could’st not cower to Zeus: a love too great + Thou unto man hast given— + Too high of heart thou wert—ah, thankless fate! + What aid, ’gainst wrath of Heaven, + Could mortal man afford? in vain thy gift + To things so powerless! + Could’st thou not see? they are as dreams that drift; + Their strength is feebleness + A purblind race, in hopeless fetters bound, + They have no craft or skill, + That could o’erreach the ordinance profound + of the eternal will. + Alas, Prometheus! on thy woe condign + I looked, and learned this lore; + And a new strain floats to these lips of mine— + Not the glad song of yore, + When by the lustral wave I sang to see + My sister made thy bride, + Decked with thy gifts, thy loved Hesione, + And clasped unto thy side. + + Enter IO, horned like a cow. + +IO. + Alack! what land, what folk are here? + Whom see I clenched in rocky fetters drear + Unto the stormy crag? for what thing done + Dost thou in agony atone? + Ah, tell me whither, well-a-day! + My feet have roamed their weary way? + Ah, but it maddens, the sting! it burns in my piteous side! + Ah, but the vision, the spectre, the earth-born, the myriad-eyed! + Avoid thee! Earth, hide him, thine offspring! he cometh—O aspect of + ill! + Ghostly, and crafty of face, and dead, but pursuing me still! + Ah, woe upon me, woe ineffable! + He steals upon my track, a hound of hell— + Where’er I stray, along the sands and brine, + Weary and foodless, come his creeping eyne! + And ah, the ghostly sound— + The wax-stopped reed-flute’s weird and drowsy drone! + Alack my wandering woes, that round and round + Lead me in many mazes, lost, foredone! + O child of Cronos! for what deed of wrong + Am I enthralled by thee in penance long? + Why by the stinging bruise, the thing of fear, + Dost thou torment me, heart and brain? + Nay, give me rather to the flames that sear, + Or to some hidden grave, + Or to the rending jaws, the monsters of the main! + Nor grudge the boon for which I crave, O king! + Enough, enough of weary wandering, + Pangs from which none can save! + Hearken! in pity hold + Io, the ox-horned maid, thy love of old! + +PROMETHEUS. + Hear Zeus or not, I hear and know thee well, + Daughter of Inachus; I know thee driven, + Stung by the gadfly, mazed with agony. + Ay, thou art she whose beauty fired the breast + Of Zeus with passion; she whom Hera’s hate + Now harasses o’er leagues and leagues of land. + +IO. + Alack, thou namest Inachus my sire! + Wottest thou of him? how, from lips of pain, + Comes to my woeful ears truth’s very strain? + How knowest thou the curse, the burning fire + The god-sent, piercing pest that stings and clings? + Ah me! in frenzied, foodless wanderings + Hither I come, and on me from on high + Lies Hera’s angry craft! Ah, men unblest! + Not one there is, not one, that is unblest as I. + But thou—tell me the rest! + Utter the rede of woes to come for me; + Utter the aid, the cure, if aid or cure there be! + +PROMETHEUS. + Lo, clearly will I show forth all thy quest— + Not in dark speech, but with such simple phrase + As doth befit the utterance of a friend. + I am Prometheus, who gave fire to men. + +IO. + O daring, proven champion of man’s race, + What sin, Prometheus, dost thou thus atone? + +PROMETHEUS. + One moment since, I told my woes and ceased. + +IO. + Then should I plead my suit to thee in vain? + +PROMETHEUS. + Nay, speak thy need; nought would I hide from thee. + +IO. + Pronounce who nailed thee to the rocky cleft. + +PROMETHEUS. + Zeus, by intent; Hephaestus, by his hand. + +IO. + For what wrongdoing do these pains atone? + +PROMETHEUS. + What I have said, is said; suffice it thee! + +IO. + Yet somewhat add; forewarn me in my woe + What time shall bring my wandering to its goal? + +PROMETHEUS. + Fore-knowledge is fore-sorrow; ask it not. + +IO. + Nay, hide not from me destiny’s decree. + +PROMETHEUS. + I grudge thee not the gift which I withhold. + +IO. + Then wherefore tarry ere thou tell me all? + +PROMETHEUS. + Nothing I grudge, but would not rack thy soul. + +IO. + Be not compassionate beyond my wish. + +PROMETHEUS. + Well, thou art fain, and I will speak. Attend! + +CHORUS. + Nay—ere thou speak, hear me, bestow on me + A portion of the grace of granted prayers. + First let us learn how Io’s frenzy came— + (She telling her disasters manifold) + Then of their sequel let her know from thee. + +PROMETHEUS. + Well were it, Io, thus to do their will— + Right well! they are the sisters of thy sire. + ’Tis worth the waste and effluence of time, + To tell, with tears of perfect moan, the doom + Of sorrows that have fallen, when ’tis sure + The listeners will greet the tale with tears. + +IO. + I know not how I should mistrust your prayer; + Therefore the whole that ye desire of me + Ye now shall learn in one straightforward tale. + Yet, as it leaves my lips, I blush with shame + To tell that tempest of the spite of Heaven, + And all the wreck and ruin of my form, + And whence they swooped upon me, woe is me! + Long, long in visions of the night there came + Voices and forms into my maiden bower, + Alluring me with smoothly glozing words— + _O maiden highly favoured of high Heaven, + Why cherish thy virginity so long? + Thine is it to win wedlock’s noblest crown! + Know that Zeus’ heart thro’ thee is all aflame, + Pierced with desire as with a dart, and longs + To join in utmost rite of love with thee. + Therefore, O maiden, shun not with disdain_ + _Th’ embrace of Zeus, but hie thee forth straightway + To the lush growth of Lerna’s meadow-land, + Where are the flocks and steadings of thy home, + And let Zeus’ eye be eased of its desire_. + Night after night, haunted by dreams like these, + Heartsick, I ventured at the last to tell + Unto my sire these visions of the dark. + Then sent he many a wight, on sacred quest, + To Delphi and to far Dodona’s shrine, + Being fall fain to learn what deed or word + Would win him favour from the powers of heaven. + But they came back repeating oracles + Mystic, ambiguous, inscrutable, + Till, at the last, an utterance direct, + Obscure no more, was brought to Inachus— + A peremptory charge to fling me forth + Beyond my home and fatherland, a thing + Sent loose in banishment o’er all the world; + And—should he falter—Zeus should launch on him + A fire-eyed bolt, to shatter and consume + Himself and all his race to nothingness. + Bowing before such utterance from the shrine + Of Loxias, he drave me from our halls, + Barring the gates against me: loth he was + To do, as I to suffer, this despite: + But the strong curb of Zeus had overborne + His will to me-ward. As I parted thence, + In form and mind I grew dishumanized, + And horned as now ye see me, poison-stung + By the envenomed bitings of the brize, + I leapt and flung in frenzy, rushed away + To the bright waters of Cerchneia’s stream + And Lerna’s beach: but ever at my side, + A herdsman by his heifer, Argus moved, + Earth-born, malevolent of mood, and peered, + With myriad eyes, where’er my feet would roam. + But on him in a moment, unforeseen, + Came Fate, and sundered him from life; but I, + Still maddened by the gadfly’s sting, the scourge + Of God’s infliction, roam the weary world. + How I have fared, thou hearest: be there aught + Of what remains to bear, that thou canst tell, + Speak on! but let not thy compassion warm + Thy words to cheering falsehood. Worst of woes + Are words that break their promise to our hope! + +CHORUS. + Woe! woe! avaunt—thou and thy tale of bane! + O never, never dared I dream + Such horror of strange sounds should pierce mine ear; + Such loathly sights, such tortures hard to bear, + Outrage, pollution, agony supreme, + Wasting my heart with double edge of pain! + Ah Fate, ah Fate! I gaze on Io’s dole, + And shudder to my soul! + +PROMETHEUS. + Thou wailest all too soon, fulfilled of fear— + Tarry awhile, till thou have learned the whole. + +CHORUS. + Say on, reveal it! suffering souls are fain + To know aright what yet remains to bear. + +PROMETHEUS. + Lightly, with help of mine, did ye achieve + That which ye first desired: from Io’s mouth + craved to hear, recounted by herself, + The story of her strivings. Listen now + To what shall follow, to what woefulness + The wrath of Hera must compel this maid. + (_To_ Io) + And thou, O child of Inachus, within + Thine inmost heart store up these words of mine, + That thou may’st learn thy wanderings and their goal. + First from this spot toward the sunrise turn, + And cross the steppe that knoweth not the plough: + Thus to the nomad Scythians shalt thou come, + Who dwell in wattled homes, not built on earth + But borne along on wains of sturdy wheel— + Equipped, themselves, with bows of mighty reach. + Pass them avoidingly, and leave their land, + And skirt the beaches where the tides make moan, + Till lo! upon the left hand thou shalt find + The Chalybes, stout craftsmen of the steel— + Beware of them! no gentleness is theirs, + No kindly welcome to a stranger’s foot! + Thence to the Stream of Violence shalt thou come— + Like name, like nature; see thou cross it not, + (’Tis fatal to the forder!) till thou come + Right to the very Caucasus, the peak + That overtops the world, and from its brows + The river pants in spray its wrathful stream. + Thence, o’er the pinnacles that court the stars, + Onward and southward thou must take thy way, + And reach the warlike horde of Amazons, + Maidens through hate of man; and gladly they + Will guide thy maiden feet. That host, in days + That are not yet, shall fix their home and dwell + At Themiscyra, on Thermodon’s bank, + Nigh whereunto the grim projecting fang + Of Salmydessus’ cape affronts the main, + The seaman’s curse, to ships a stepmother! + Then at the jutting land, Cimmerian styled, + That screens the narrowing portal of the mere, + Thou shalt arrive; pass o’er it, brave at heart, + And ferry thee across Macotis’ ford. + So shall there be great rumour evermore, + In ears of mortals, of thy passage strange; + And Bosporos shall be that channel’s name, + Because the ox-horned thing did pass thereby. + So, from the wilds of Europe wander’d o’er, + To Asia’s continent thou com’st at last. + (_To the_ CHORUS) + And ye, what think ye? Seems he not, that lord + And tyrant of the gods, as tyrannous + Unto all other lives? A high god’s lust + Constrained this mortal maid to roam the world! + (_To_ Io) + Poor maid! a brutal wooer sure was thine! + For know that all which I have told thee now + Is scarce the prelude of thy woes to come. + +IO. + Alas for me, alas! + +PROMETHEUS. + Again thou criest, with a heifer’s low. + What wilt thou do, learning thy future woes? + +CHORUS. + What, hast thou further sorrows for her ear? + +PROMETHEUS. + Yea, a vext ocean of predestined pain. + +IO. + What profit then is life to me? Ah, why + Did I not cast me from this stubborn crag? + So with one spring, one crash upon the ground, + I had attained surcease from all my woes. + Better it is to die one death outright + Than linger out long life in misery. + +PROMETHEUS. + Ill would’st thou bear these agonies of mine— + Mine, with whose fate it standeth not to win + The goal of death, which were release from pain! + Now, there is set no limit to my woe + Till Zeus be hurled from his omnipotence. + +IO. + Zeus hurled from pride of place! Can such things be? + +PROMETHEUS. + Thou wert full fain, methinks, to see that sight! + +IO. + Even so—his overthrow who wrought my pain. + +PROMETHEUS. + Then may’st thou know thereof; such fall shall be. + +IO. + And who shall wrench the sceptre from his hand? + +PROMETHEUS. + By his own mindless counsels shall he fall. + +IO. + And how? unless the telling harm, say on! + +PROMETHEUS. + Wooing a bride, his ruin he shall win. + +IO. + Goddess, or mortal? tell me, if thou may’st. + +PROMETHEUS. + No matter which—more must not be revealed. + +IO. + Doth then a consort thrust him from his throne? + +PROMETHEUS. + The child she bears him shall o’ercome his sire. + +IO. + And hath he no avoidance of this doom? + +PROMETHEUS. + None, surely—till that I, released from bonds— + +IO. + Who can release thee, but by will of Zeus? + +PROMETHEUS. + Fate gives this duty to a child of thine! + +IO. + How? Shall a child of mine undo thy woes? + +PROMETHEUS. + Yea, of thy lineage, thirteen times removed. + +IO. + Dark beyond guessing grows thine oracle. + +PROMETHEUS. + Yea—seek not therefore to foreknow thy woes. + +IO. + As thou didst proffer hope, withdraw it not. + +PROMETHEUS. + Two tales I have—choose! for I grant thee one. + +IO. + And which be they? reveal, and leave me choice. + +PROMETHEUS. + I grant it: shall I in all clearness show + Thy future woes, or my deliverance? + +CHORUS. + Nay! of the two, vouchsafe her wish to her + And mine to me, deigning a truth to each— + To her, reveal her future wanderings— + To me, thy future saviour, as I crave! + +PROMETHEUS. + I will not set myself to thwart your will + Withholding aught of what ye crave to know. + First to thee, Io, will I tell and trace + Thy scared circuitous wandering mark it well, + Deep in retentive tablets of the soul. + When thou hast overpast the ferry’s flow + That sunders continent from continent, + Straight to the eastward and the flaming face + Of dawn, and highways trodden by the sun, + Pass, till thou come unto the windy land + Of daughters born to Boreas: beware + Lest the strong spirit of the stormy blast + Snatch thee aloft, and sweep thee to the void, + On wings of raving wintry hurricane! + Wend by the noisy tumult of the wave, + Until thou reach the Gorgon-haunted plains + Beside Cisthene. In that solitude + Dwell Phorcys’ daughters, beldames worn with time, + Three, each swan-shapen, single-toothed, and all + Peering thro’ shared endowment of one eye; + Never on them doth the sun shed his rays, + Never falls radiance of the midnight moon. + But, hard by these, their sisters, clad with wings, + Serpentine-curled, dwell, loathed of mortal men,— + The Gorgons!—he of men who looks on them + Shall gasp away his life. Of such fell guard + I bid thee to beware. Now, mark my words + When I another sight of terror tell— + Beware the Gryphon pack, the hounds of Zeus, + As keen of fang as silent of their tongues! + Beware the one-eyed Arimaspian band + That tramp on horse-hoofs, dwelling by the ford + Of Pluto and the stream that flows with gold: + Keep thou aloof from these. To the world’s end + Thou comest at the last, the dark-faced tribe + That dwell beside the sources of the sun, + Where springs the river, Aethiopian named. + Make thou thy way along his bank, until + Thou come unto the mighty downward slope + Where from the overland of Bybline hills + Nile pours his hallowed earth-refreshing wave. + He by his course shall guide thee to the realm + Named from himself, three-angled, water-girt; + There, Io, at the last, hath Fate ordained, + For thee and for thy race, the charge to found, + Far from thy native shore, a new abode. + Lo, I have said: if aught hereof appear + Hard to thy sense and inarticulate, + Question me o’er again, and soothly learn— + God wot, I have too much of leisure here! + +CHORUS. + If there be aught beyond, or aught pass’d o’er, + Which thou canst utter, of her woe-worn maze, + Speak on! if all is said, then grant to us + That which we asked, as thou rememberest. + +PROMETHEUS. + She now hath learned, unto its utmost end, + Her pilgrimage; but yet, that she may know + That ’tis no futile fable she hath heard, + I will recount her history of toil + Ere she came hither; let it stand for proof + Of what I told, my forecast of the end. + So, then—to sum in brief the weary tale— + I turn me to thine earlier exile’s close. + When to Molossia’s lowland thou hadst come, + Nigh to Dodona’s cliff and ridge sublime, + (Where is the shrine oracular and seat + Of Zeus, Thesprotian styled, and that strange thing + And marvel past belief, the prophet-oaks + That syllable his speech), thou by their tongues, + With clear acclaim and unequivocal, + Wert thus saluted—_Hail, O bride of Zeus + That art to be_—hast memory thereof? + Thence, stung anew with frenzy, thou didst hie + Along the shoreward track, to Rhea’s lap, + The mighty main; then, stormily distraught, + Backward again and eastward. To all time, + Be well assured, that inlet of the sea + All mortal men shall call Ionian, + In memory that Io fared thereby. + Take this for proof and witness that my mind + Hath more in ken than ever sense hath shown. + (_To the_ CHORUS) + That which remains, to you and her alike + I will relate, and, to my former words + Reverting, add this final prophecy. + (_To_ Io) + There lieth, at the verge of land and sea, + Where Nilus issues thro’ the silted sand, + A town, Canopus called: and there at length + Shall Zeus renew the reason in thy brain + With the mere touch and contact of his hand + Fraught now with fear no more: and thou shalt bear + A child, dark Epaphus—his very name + Memorial of Zeus’ touch that gave him life. + And his shall be the foison and the fruit + Of all the land enriched by spreading Nile. + Thence the fifth generation of his seed + Back unto Argos, yet unwillingly, + Shall flee for refuge—fifty maidens they, + Loathing a wedlock with their next in blood, + More kin than kind, from their sire’s brother sprung. + And on their track, astir with wild desire, + Like falcons fierce closing on doves that flee, + Shall speed the suitors, craving to achieve + A prey forbidden, a reluctant bride. + Yet power divine shall foil them, and forbid + Possession of the maids, whom Argive land + Shall hold protected, when unsleeping hate, + Horror, and watchful ambush of the night, + Have laid the suitors dead, by female hands. + For every maid shall smite a man to death, + Dyeing a dagger’s edges in his throat— + Such bed of love befall mine enemies! + Yet in one bride shall yearning conquer hate, + Bidding her spare the bridegroom at her side, + Blunting the keen edge of her set resolve. + Thus of two scorns the former shall she choose, + The name of coward, not of murderess. + In Argos shall she bear, in after time, + A royal offspring. Long it were to tell + In clear succession all that thence shall be. + Take this for sooth—in lineage from her + A hero shall arise, an archer great, + And he shall be my saviour from these woes. + Such knowledge of the future Themis gave, + The ancient Titaness, to me her son. + But how, and by what skill, ’twere long to say, + And no whit will the knowledge profit thee. + +IO. + O woe, O rending and convulsive pain, + Frenzy and agony, again, again + Searing my heart and brain! + O dagger of the sting, unforged with fire + Yet burning, burning ever! O my heart, + Pulsing with horror, beating at my breast! + O rolling maddened eyes! away, apart, + Raving with anguish dire, + I spring, by frenzy-fiends possest. + O wild and whirling words, that sweep in gloom + Down to dark waves of doom! + + [_Exit IO._] + +CHORUS. + O well and sagely was it said— + Yea, wise of heart was he who first + Gave forth in speech the thought he nursed— + _In thine own order see thou wed!_ + + Let not the humble heart aspire + To the gross home of wealth and pride; + Nor be it to a hearth allied + That vaunts of many a noble sire. + + O Fates, of awful empery! + Never may I by Zeus be wooed— + Never give o’er my maidenhood + To any god that dwells on high. + + A shudder to my soul is sent, + Beholding Io’s doom forlorn— + By Hera’s malice put to scorn, + Roaming in mateless banishment. + + From wedlock’s crown of fair desire + I would not shrink—an idle fear! + But may no god to me draw near + With shunless might and glance of fire! + + That were a strife wherein no chance + Of conquest lies: from Zeus most high + And his resolve, no subtlety + Could win me my deliverance. + +PROMETHEUS. + And yet shall Zeus, for all his stubborn pride, + Be brought to low estate! aha, he schemes + Such wedlock as shall bring his doom on him, + Flung from his kingship to oblivion’s lap! + Ay, then the curse his father Cronos spake + As he fell helpless from his agelong throne, + Shall be fulfilled unto the utterance! + No god but I can manifest to him + A rescue from such ruin as impends— + I know it, I, and how it may be foiled. + Go to, then, let him sit and blindly trust + His skyey rumblings, for security, + And wave his levin with its blast of flame! + All will avail him not, nor bar his fall + Down to dishonour vile, intolerable + So strong a wrestler is he moulding now + To his own proper downfall—yea, a shape + Portentous and unconquerably huge, + Who truly shall reveal a flame more strong + Than is the lightning, and a crash of sound + More loud than thunder, and shall dash to nought + Poseidon’s trident-spear, the ocean-bane + That makes the firm earth quiver. Let Zeus strike + Once on this rock, he speedily shall learn + How far the fall from power to slavery! + +CHORUS. + Beware! thy wish doth challenge Zeus himself. + +PROMETHEUS. + I voice my wish and its fulfilment too. + +CHORUS. + What, dare we look for one to conquer Zeus? + +PROMETHEUS. + Ay—Zeus shall wear more painful bonds than mine + +CHORUS. + Darest thou speak such taunts and tremble not? + +PROMETHEUS. + Why should I fear, who am immortal too? + +CHORUS. + Yet he might doom thee to worse agony. + +PROMETHEUS. + Out on his dooming! I foreknow it all. + +CHORUS. + Yet do the wise revere Necessity. + +PROMETHEUS. + Ay, ay—do reverence, cringe and crouch to power + Whene’er, where’er thou see it! But, for me, + I reck of Zeus as something less than nought. + Let him put forth his power, attest his sway, + Howe’er he will—a momentary show, + A little brief authority in heaven! + Aha, I see out yonder one who comes, + A bidden courier, truckling at Zeus’ nod, + A lacquey in his new lord’s livery, + Surely on some fantastic errand sped! + + Enter HERMES. + +HERMES. + Thou, double-dyed in gall of bitterness, + Trickster and sinner against gods, by giving + The stolen fire to perishable men! + Attend—the Sire supreme doth bid thee tell + What is the wedlock which thou vauntest now, + Whereby he falleth from supremacy? + Speak forth the whole, make all thine utterance clear, + Have done with words inscrutable, nor cause + To me, Prometheus! any further toil + Or twofold journeying. Go to—thou seest + Zeus doth not soften at such words as thine! + +PROMETHEUS. + Pompous, in sooth, thy word, and swoln with pride, + As doth befit the lacquey of thy lords! + O ye young gods! how, in your youthful sway, + Ye deem secure your citadels of sky, + Beyond the reach of sorrow or of fall! + Have I not seen two dynasties of gods + Already flung therefrom? and soon shall see + A third, that now in tyranny exults, + Shamed, ruined, in an hour! What sayest thou? + Crouch I and tremble at these stripling powers? + Small homage unto such from me, or none! + Betake thee hence, sweat back along thy road— + Look for no answer from me, get thee gone! + +HERMES. + Think—it was such audacities of will + That drove thee erst to anchorage in woe! + +PROMETHEUS. + Ay—but mark this: mine heritage of pain + I would not barter for thy servitude. + +HERMES. + Better, forsooth, be bond-slave to a crag, + Than true-born herald unto Zeus the Sire! + +PROMETHEUS. + Take thine own coin—taunts for a taunting slave! + +HERMES. + Proud art thou in thy circumstance, methinks! + +PROMETHEUS. + Proud? in such pride then be my foemen set, + And I to see—and of such foes art thou! + +HERMES. + What, blam’st thou me too for thy sufferings? + +PROMETHEUS. + Mark a plain word—I loathe all gods that are, + Who reaped my kindness and repay with wrong. + +HERMES. + I hear no little madness in thy words. + +PROMETHEUS. + Madness be mine, if scorn of foes be mad. + +HERMES. + Past bearing were thy pride, in happiness. + +PROMETHEUS. + Ah me! + +HERMES. + Zeus knoweth nought of sorrow’s cry! + +PROMETHEUS. + He shall! Time’s lapse bringeth all lessons home. + +HERMES. + To thee it brings not yet discretion’s curb. + +PROMETHEUS. + No—else I had not wrangled with a slave! + +HERMES. + Then thou concealest all that Zeus would learn? + +PROMETHEUS. + As though I owed him aught and should repay! + +HERMES. + Scornful thy word, as though I were a child— + +PROMETHEUS. + Child, ay—or whatsoe’er hath less of brain— + Thou, deeming thou canst wring my secret out! + No mangling torture, no, nor sleight of power + There is, by which he shall compel my speech, + Until these shaming bonds be loosed from me. + So, let him fling his blazing levin-bolt! + Let him with white and winged flakes of snow, + And rumbling earthquakes, whelm and shake the world! + For nought of this shall bend me to reveal + The power ordained to hurl him from his throne. + +HERMES. + Bethink thee if such words can mend thy lot. + +PROMETHEUS. + All have I long foreseen, and all resolved. + +HERMES. + Perverse of will! constrain, constrain thy soul + To think more wisely in the grasp of doom! + +PROMETHEUS. + Truce to vain words! as wisely wouldst thou strive + To warn a swelling wave: imagine not + That ever I before thy lord’s resolve + Will shrink in womanish terror, and entreat, + As with soft suppliance of female hands, + The Power I scorn unto the utterance, + To loose me from the chains that bind me here— + A world’s division ’twixt that thought and me! + +HERMES. + So, I shall speak, whate’er I speak, in vain! + No prayer can melt or soften thy resolve; + But, as a colt new-harnessed champs the bit, + Thou strivest and art restive to the rein. + But all too feeble is the stratagem + In which thou art so confident: for know + That strong self-will is weak and less than nought + In one more proud than wise. Bethink thee now— + If these my words thou shouldest disregard— + What storm, what might as of a great third wave + Shall dash thy doom upon thee, past escape! + First shall the Sire, with thunder and the flame + Of lightning, rend the crags of this ravine, + And in the shattered mass o’erwhelm thy form, + Immured and morticed in a clasping rock. + Thence, after age on age of durance done, + Back to the daylight shall thou come, and there + The eagle-hound of Zeus, red-ravening, fell + With greed, shall tatter piecemeal all thy flesh + To shreds and ragged vestiges of form— + Yea, an unbidden guest, a day-long bane, + That feeds, and feeds—yea, he shall gorge his fill + On blackened fragments, from thy vitals gnawed. + Look for no respite from that agony + Until some other deity be found, + Ready to bear for thee the brunt of doom, + Choosing to pass into the lampless world + Of Hades and the murky depths of hell. + Hereat, advise thee! ’tis no feigned threat + Whereof I warn thee, but an o’er-true tale. + The lips of Zeus know nought of lying speech, + But wreak in action all their words foretell. + Therefore do thou look warily, and deem + Prudence a better saviour than self-will. + +CHORUS. + Meseems that Hermes speaketh not amiss, + Bidding thee leave thy wilfulness and seek + The wary walking of a counselled mind. + Give heed! to err through anger shames the wise. + +PROMETHEUS. + All, all I knew, whate’er his tongue + In idle arrogance hath flung. + ’Tis the world’s way, the common lot— + Foe tortures foe and pities not. + Therefore I challenge him to dash + His bolt on me, his zigzag flash + Of piercing, rending flame! + Now be the welkin stirred amain + With thunder-peal and hurricane, + And let the wild winds now displace + From its firm poise and rooted base + The stubborn earthly frame! + The raging sea with stormy surge + Rise up and ravin and submerge + Each high star-trodden way! + Me let him lift and dash to gloom + Of nether hell, in whirls of doom! + Yet—do he what extremes he may— + He cannot crush my life away! + +HERMES. + Such are the counsels, such the strain, + Heard from wild lips and frenzied brain! + In word or thought, how fails his fate + Of madness wild and desperate? + (_To the_ CHORUS) + But ye, who stand compassionate + Here at his side, depart in haste! + Lest of his penalty ye taste, + And shattered brain and reason feel + The roaring, ruthless thunder-peal! + +CHORUS. + Out on thee! if thy heart be fain + I should obey thee, change thy strain! + Vile is thine hinted cowardice, + And loathed of me thy base advice, + Weakly to shrink from pain! + Nay, at his side, whate’er befall, + I will abide, endure it all! + Among all things abhorr’d, accurst, + I hold betrayers for the worst! + +HERMES. + Nay, ye are warned! remember well— + Nor cry, when meshed in nets of hell, + _Ah cruel fate, ah Zeus unkind— + Thus, by a sentence undivined, + To dash us to the realms below!_ + It is no sudden, secret blow— + Nay, ye achieve your proper woe— + Warn’d and foreknowing shall ye go, + Through your own folly trapped and ta’en, + Into the net the Fates ordain— + The vast, illimitable pain! + + [_Thunder and lightning._] + +PROMETHEUS. + Hark! for no more in empty word, + But in sheer sooth, the world is stirred! + The massy earth doth heave and sway, + And thro’ their dark and secret way + The cavern’d thunders boom! + See, how they gleam athwart the sky, + The lightnings, through the gloom! + And whirlwinds roll the dust on high, + And right and left the storm-clouds leap + To battle in the skyey deep, + In wildest uproar unconfined, + An universe of warring wind! + And falling sky and heaving sea + Are blent in one! on me, on me, + Nearer and ever yet more near, + Flaunting its pageantry of fear, + Drives down in might its destined road + The tempest of the wrath of God! + O holy Earth, O mother mine! + O Sky, that biddest speed along + Thy vault the common Light divine,— + Be witness of my wrong! + + [_The rocks are rent with fire and earthquake, and fall, burying + PROMETHEUS in the ruins._] + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOUR PLAYS OF AESCHYLUS *** + +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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