{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/aesch/eumend.htm","path":"cla/aesch/eumend.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/aesch/eumend.htm","text":"Dramatis Personae\nTHE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS\nAPOLLO\nORESTES\nTHE GHOST OF CLYTEMNESTRA\nCHORUS OF FURIES\nATHENA\nATTENDANTS OF ATHENA\nTWELVE ATHENIAN CITIZENS\nBefore the temple of APOLLO at Delphi. The PYTHIAN PRIESTESS enters\nand approaches the doors of the temple.\nTHE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS First, in this prayer, of all the gods I name\nThe prophet-mother Earth; and Themis next,\nSecond who sat-for so with truth is said-\nOn this her mother's shrine oracular.\nThen by her grace, who unconstrained allowed,\nThere sat thereon another child of Earth-\nTitanian Phoebe. She, in after time,\nGave o'er the throne, as birthgift to a god,\nPhoebus, who in his own bears Phoebe's name.\nHe from the lake and ridge of Delos' isle\nSteered to the port of Pallas' Attic shores,\nThe home of ships; and thence he passed and came\nUnto this land and to Pamassus' shrine.\nAnd at his side, with awe revering him,\nThere went the children of Hephaestus' seed,\nThe hewers of the sacred way, who tame\nThe stubborn tract that erst was wilderness.\nAnd all this folk, and Delphos, chieftain-king\nOf this their land, with honour gave him home;\nAnd in his breast Zeus set a prophet's soul,\nAnd gave to him this throne, whereon he sits,\nFourth prophet of the shrine, and, Loxias hight,\nGives voice to that which Zeus his sire decrees.\nSuch gods I name in my preluding prayer,\nAnd after them, I call with honour due\nOn Pallas, wardress of the fane, and Nymphs\nWho dwell around the rock Corycian,\nWhere in the hollow cave, the wild birds' haunt,\nWander the feet of lesser gods; and there,\nRight well I know it, Bromian Bacchus dwells,\nSince he in godship led his Maenad host,\nDevising death for Pentheus, whom they rent\nPiecemeal, as hare among the hounds. And last,\nI call on Pleistus' springs, Poseidon's might,\nAnd Zeus most high, the great Accomplisher.\nThen as a seeress to the sacred chair\nI pass and sit; and may the powers divine\nMake this mine entrance fruitful in response\nBeyond each former advent, triply blest.\nAnd if there stand without, from Hellas bound,\nMen seeking oracles, let each pass in\nIn order of the lot, as use allows;\nFor the god guides whate'er my tongue proclaims. (She goes into the\ninterior of the temple; after a short interval, she returns in great\nfear.) Things fell to speak of, fell for eyes to see,\nHave sped me forth again from Loxias' shrine,\nWith strength unstrung, moving erect no more,\nBut aiding with my hands my failing feet,\nUnnerved by fear. A beldame's force is naught-\nIs as a child's, when age and fear combine.\nFor as I pace towards the inmost fane\nBay-filleted by many a suppliant's hand,\nLo, at the central altar I descry\nOne crouching as for refuge-yea, a man\nAbhorred of heaven; and from his hands, wherein\nA sword new-drawn he holds, blood reeked and fell:\nA wand he bears, the olive's topmost bough,\nTwined as of purpose with a deep close tuft\nOf whitest wool. This, that I plainly saw,\nPlainly I tell. But lo, in front of him,\nCrouched on the altar-steps, a grisly band\nOf women slumbers-not like women they,\nBut Gorgons rather; nay, that word is weak,\nNor may I match the Gorgons' shape with theirs!\nSuch have I seen in painted semblance erst-\nWinged Harpies, snatching food from Phineus' board,-\nBut these are wingless, black, and all their shape\nThe eye's abomination to behold.\nFell is the breath-let none draw nigh to it-\nExude the damned drops of poisonous ire:\nAnd such their garb as none should dare to bring\nTo statues of the gods or homes of men.\nI wot not of the tribe wherefrom can come\nSo fell a legion, nor in what land Earth\nCould rear, unharmed, such creatures, nor avow\nThat she had travailed and had brought forth death.\nBut, for the rest, be all these things a carp\nUnto the mighty Loxias, the lord\nOf this our shrine: healer and prophet he,\nDiscerner he of portents, and the cleanser\nOf other homes-behold, his own to cleanse! (She goes out. The central\ndoors open, disclosing the interior of the temple. ORESTES clings\nto the central altar; the FURIES lie slumbering at a little distance;\nAPOLLO and HERMES appear from the innermost shrine.)\nAPOLLO (to ORESTES) Lo, I desert thee never: to the end,\nHard at thy side as now, or sundered far,\nI am thy guard, and to thine enemies\nImplacably oppose me: look on them,\nThese greedy fiends, beneath my craft subdued I\nSee, they are fallen on sleep, these beldames old,\nUnto whose grim and wizened maidenhood\nNor god nor man nor beast can e'er draw near.\nYea, evil were they born, for evil's doom,\nEvil the dark abyss of Tartarus\nWherein they dwell, and they themselves the hate\nOf men on earth, and of Olympian gods.\nBut thou, flee far and with unfaltering speed;\nFor they shall hunt thee through the mainland wide\nWhere'er throughout the tract of travelled earth\nThy foot may roam, and o'er and o'er the seas\nAnd island homes of men. Faint not nor fail,\nToo soon and timidly within thy breast\nShepherding thoughts forlorn of this thy toil;\nBut unto Pallas' city go, and there\nCrouch at her shrine, and in thine arms enfold\nHer ancient image: there we well shall find\nMeet judges for this cause and suasive pleas,\nSkilled to contrive for thee deliverance\nFor by my hest thou didst thy mother slay.\nORESTES O king Apollo, since right well thou know'st\nWhat justice bids, have heed, fulfil the same,-\nThy strength is all-sufficient to achieve.\nAPOLLO Have thou too heed, nor let thy fear prevail\nAbove thy will. And do thou guard him, Hermes,\nWhose blood is brother unto mine, whose sire\nThe same high God. Men call thee guide and guard,\nGuide therefore thou and guard my suppliant;\nFor Zeus himself reveres the outlaw's right,\nBoon of fair escort, upon man conferred. (APOLLO, HERMES, and ORESTES\ngo out. The GHOST OF CLYTEMNESTRA rises.)\nGHOST OF CLYTEMNESTRA Sleep on! awake! what skills your sleep to\nme-\nMe, among all the dead by you dishonoured-\nMe from whom never, in the world of death,\nDieth this course, 'Tis she who smote and slew,\nAnd shamed and scorned I roam? Awake, and hear\nMy plaint of dead men's hate intolerable.\nMe, sternly slain by them that should have loved,\nMe doth no god arouse him to avenge,\nHewn down in blood by matricidal hands.\nMark ye these wounds from which the heart's blood ran,\nAnd by whose hand, bethink ye! for the sense\nWhen shut in sleep hath then the spirit-sight,\nBut in the day the inward eye is blind.\nList, ye who drank so oft with lapping tongue\nThe wineless draught by me outpoured to soothe\nYour vengeful ire! how oft on kindled shrine\nI laid the feast of darkness, at the hour\nAbhorred of every god but you alone!\nLo, all my service trampled down and scorned!\nAnd he bath baulked your chase, as stag the hounds;\nYea, lightly bounding from the circling toils,\nHath wried his face in scorn, and flieth far.\nAwake and hear-for mine own soul I cry-\nAwake, ye powers of hell! the wandering ghost\nThat once was Clytemnestra calls-Arise! (The FURIES mutter grimly,\nas in a dream.) Mutter and murmur! He hath flown afar-\nMy kin have gods to guard them, I have none! (The FURIES mutter as\nbefore.) O drowsed in sleep too deep to heed my pain!\nOrestes flies, who me, his mother, slew. (The FURIES give a confused\ncry.) Yelping, and drowsed again? Up and be doing\nThat which alone is yours, the deed of hell! (The FURIES give another\ncry.) Lo, sleep and toil, the sworn confederates,\nHave quelled your dragon-anger, once so fell!\nTHE FURIES (muttering more fiercely and loudly) Seize, seize, seize,\nseize-mark, yonder!\nGHOST In dreams ye chase a prey, and like some hound,\nThat even in sleep doth ply woodland toil,\nYe bell and bay. What do ye, sleeping here?\nBe not o'ercome with toil, nor, sleep-subdued,\nBe heedless of my wrong. Up! thrill your heart\nWith the just chidings of my tongue,-Such words\nAre as a spur to purpose firmly held.\nBlow forth on him the breath of wrath and blood,\nScorch him with reek of fire that burns in you,\nWaste him with new pursuit-swift, hound him down! (The GHOST sinks.)\nFIRST FURY (awaking) Up! rouse another as I rouse thee; up!\nSleep'st thou? Rise up, and spurning sleep away,\nSee we if false to us this prelude rang.\nCHORUS OF FURIES (singing, strophe 1)\nAlack, alack, O sisters, we have toiled,\nO much and vainly have we toiled and borne!\nVainly! and all we wrought the gods have foiled,\nAnd turned us to scorn!\nHe hath slipped from the net, whom we chased: he hath 'scaped us who\nshould be our prey-\nO'ermastered by slumber we sank, and our quarry hath stolen away!\n(antistrophe 1)\nThou, child of the high God Zeus, Apollo, hast robbed us and wronged;\nThou, a youth, hast down-trodden the right that to godship more ancient\nbelonged;\nThou hast cherished thy suppliant man; the slayer, the God- forsaken,\nThe bane of a parent, by craft from out of our grasp thou hast taken;\nA god, thou hast stolen from us the avengers a matricide son-\nAnd who shall consider thy deed and say, It is rightfully done?\n(strophe 2)\nThe sound of chiding scorn\nCame from the land of dream;\nDeep to mine inmost heart I felt it thrill and burn,\nThrust as a strong-grasped goad, to urge\nOnward the chariot's team.\nThrilled, chilled with bitter inward pain\nI stand as one beneath the doomsman's scourge.\n(antistrophe 2)\nShame on the younger gods who tread down right,\nSitting on thrones of might!\nWoe on the altar of earth's central fane!\nClotted on step and shrine,\nBehold, the guilt of blood, the ghastly stain!\n(strophe 3)\nWoe upon thee, Apollo! uncontrolled,\nUnbidden, hast thou, prophet-god, imbrued\nThe pure prophetic shrine with wrongful blood!\nFor thou too heinous a respect didst hold\nOf man, too little heed of powers divine!\nAnd us the Fates, the ancients of the earth,\nDidst deem as nothing worth.\n(antistrophe 3)\nScornful to me thou art, yet shalt not fend\nMy wrath from him; though unto hell he flee,\nThere too are we!\nAnd he the blood-defiled, should feel and rue,\nThough I were not, fiend-wrath that shall not end,\nDescending on his head who foully slew. (APOLLO enters from the inner\nshrine.)\nAPOLLO Out! I command you. Out from this my home-\nHaste, tarry not! Out from the mystic shrine,\nLest thy lot be to take into thy breast\nThe winged bright dart that from my golden string\nSpeeds hissing as a snake,-lest, pierced and thrilled\nWith agony, thou shouldst spew forth again\nBlack frothy heart's-blood, drawn from mortal men,\nBelching the gory clots sucked forth from wounds.\nThese be no halls where such as you can prowl-\nGo where men lay on men the doom of blood,\nHeads lopped from necks, eyes from their spheres plucked out,\nHacked flesh, the flower of youthful seed crushed out,\nFeet hewn away, and hands, and death beneath\nThe smiting stone, low moans and piteous\nOf men impaled-Hark, hear ye for what feast\nYe hanker ever, and the loathing gods\nDo spit upon your craving? Lo, your shape\nIs all too fitted to your greed; the cave\nWhere lurks some lion, lapping gore, were home\nMore meet for you. Avaunt from sacred shrines,\nNor bring pollution by your touch on all\nThat nears yuu. Hence! and roam unshepherded-\nNo god there is to tend such herd as you.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS O king Apollo, in our turn hear us.\nThou hast not only part in these ill things,\nBut art chief cause and doer of the same.\nAPOLLO How? stretch thy speech to tell this, and have done.\nLEADER Thine oracle bade this man slay his mother.\nAPOLLO I bade him quit his sire's death,-wherefore not?\nLEADER Then didst thou aid and guard red-handed crime.\nAPOLLO Yea, and I bade him to this temple flee.\nLEADER And yet forsooth dost chide us following him!,\nAPOLLO Ay-not for you it is, to near this fane.\nLEADER Yet is such office ours, imposed by fate.\nAPOLLO What office? vaunt the thing ye deem so fair.\nLEADER From home to home we chase the matricide.\nAPOLLO What? to avenge a wife who slays her lord?\nLEADER That is not blood outpoured by kindred hands.\nAPOLLO How darkly ye dishonour and annul\nThe troth to which the high accomplishers,\nHera and Zeus, do honour. Yea, and thus\nIs Aphrodite to dishonour cast,\nThe queen of rapture unto mortal men.\nKnow, that above the marriage-bed ordained\nFor man and woman staddeth Right as guard,\nEnhancing sanctity of trothplight sworn;\nTherefore, if thou art placable to those\nWho have their consort slain, nor will'st to turn\nOn them the eye of wrath, unjust art thou\nIn hounding to his doom the man who slew\nHis mother. Lo, I know thee full of wrath\nAgainst one deed, but all too placable\nUnto the other, minishing the crime.\nBut in this cause shall Pallas guard the right.\nLEADER Deem not my quest shall ever quit that man.\nAPOLLO Follow then, make thee, double toil in vain\nLEADER Think not by speech mine office to curtail.\nAPOLLO None hast thou, that I would accept of thee!\nLEADER Yea, high thine honour by the throne of Zeus:\nBut I, drawn on by scent of mother's blood,\nSeek vengeance on this man and hound him down. (The CHORUS goes in\npursuit of ORESTES.)\nAPOLLO But I will stand beside him; 'tis for me\nTo guard my suppliant: gods and men alike\nDo dread the curse of such an one betrayed,\nAnd in me Fear and Will say Leave him not. (He goes into the temple., The scene changes to Athens. In the foreground is the Temple of\nATHENA on the Acropolis; her statue stands in the centre; ORESTES\nis seen clinging to it.)\nORESTES Look on me, queen Athena; lo, I come\nBy Loxias' behest; thou of thy grace\nReceive me, driven of avenging powers-\nNot now a red-hand slayer unannealed,\nBut with guilt fading, half-effaced, outworn\nOn many homes and paths of mortal men.\nFor to the limit of each land, each sea,\nI roamed, obedient to Apollo's best,\nAnd come at last, O Goddess, to thy fane,\nAnd clinging to thine image, bide my doom. (The CHORUS OF FURIES\nenters, questing like hounds.)\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Ho! clear is here the trace of him we seek:\nFollow the track of blood, the silent sign!\nLike to some hound that hunts a wounded fawn,\nWe snuff along the scent of dripping gore,\nAnd inwardly we pant, for many a day\nToiling in chase that shall fordo the man;\nFor o'er and o'er the wide land have I ranged,\nAnd o'er the wide sea, flying without wings,\nSwift as a sail I pressed upon his track,\nWho now hard by is crouching, well I wot,\nFor scent of mortal blood allures me here.\nCHORUS (chanting) Follow, seek him-round and round\nScent and snuff and scan the ground,\nLest unharmed he slip away,\nHe who did his mother slay!\nHist-he is there! See him his arms entwine\nAround the image of the maid divine-\nThus aided, for the deed he wrought\nUnto the judgment wills he to be brought.\nIt may not be! a mother's blood, poured forth\nUpon the stained earth,\nNone gathers up: it lies-bear witness, Hell!-\nFor aye indelible\nAnd thou who sheddest it shalt give thine own\nThat shedding to atone!\nYea, from thy living limbs I suck it out,\nRed, clotted, gout by gout,-\nA draught abhorred of men and gods; but\nWill drain it, suck thee dry;\nYea, I will waste thee living, nerve and vein;\nYea, for thy mother slain,\nWill drag thee downward, there where thou shalt dree\nThe weird of agony!\nAnd thou and whosoe'er of men hath sinned-\nHath wronged or God, or friend,\nOr parent,-learn ye how to all and each\nThe arm of doom can reach!\nSternly requiteth, in the world beneath,\nThe judgment-seat of Death;\nYea, Death, beholding every man's endeavour,\nRecordeth it for ever.\nORESTES I, schooled in many miseries, have learnt\nHow many refuges of cleansing shrines\nAnd when imposeth silence. Lo, I stand\nFixed now to speak, for he whose word is wise\nCommands the same. Look, how the stain of blood\nIs dull upon mine hand and wastes away,\nAnd laved and lost therewith is the deep curse\nOf matricide; for while the guilt was new,\n'Twas banished from me at Apollo's hearth,\nAtoned and purified by death of swine.\nLong were my word if I should sum the tale,\nHow oft since then among my fellow-men\nI stood and brought no curse. Time cleanses all-\nTime, the coeval of all things that are.\nNow from pure lips, in words of omen fair,\nI call Athena, lady of this land,\nTo come, my champion: so, in aftertime,\nShe shall not fail of love and service leal,\nNot won by war, from me and from my land\nAnd all the folk of Argos, vowed to her.\nNow, be she far away in Libyan land\nWhere flows from Triton's lake her natal wave,-\nStand she with planted feet, or in some hour\nOf rest conceal them, champion of her friends\nWhere'er she be,-Or whether o'er the plain\nPhlegraean she look forth, as warrior bold-\nI cry to her to come, where'er she be,\n(And she, as goddess, from afar can hear)\nAnd aid and free me, set among my foes.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Thee not Apollo nor Athena's strength\nCan save from perishing, a castaway\nAmid the Lost, where no delight shall meet\nThy soul-a bloodless prey of nether powers,\nA shadow among shadows. Answerest thou\nNothing? dost cast away my words with scorn,\nThou, prey prepared and dedicate to me?\nNot as a victim slain upon the shrine,\nBut living shalt thou see thy flesh my food.\nHear now the binding chant that makes thee mine.\nCHORUS (chanting) Weave the weird dance,-behold the hour\nTo utter forth the chant of hell,\nOur sway among mankind to tell,\nThe guidance of our power.\nOf justice are we ministers,\nAnd whosoe'er of men may stand\nLifting a pure unsullied hand,\nThat man no doom of ours incurs,\nAnd walks thro' all his mortal path\nUntouched by woe, unharmed by wrath.\nBut if, as yonder man, he hath\nBlood on the hands he strives to hide,\nWe stand avengers at his side,\nDecreeing, Thou hast wronged the dead:\nWe are doom's witnesses to thee.\nThe price of blood, his hands have shed,\nWe wring from him; in life, in death,\nHard at his side are we!\n(strophe 1)\nNight, Mother Night, who brought me forth, a torment\nTo living men and dead,\nHear me, O hear! by Leto's stripling son\nI am dishonoured:\nHe hath ta'en from me him who cowers in refuge,\nTo me made consecrates-\nA rightful victim, him who slew his mother,\nGiven o'er to me and fate.\n(refrain 1)\nHear the hymn of hell,\nO'er the victim sounding,-\nChant of frenzy, chant of ill,\nSense and will confounding!\nRound the soul entwining\nWithout lute or lyre-\nSoul in madness pining,\nWasting as with fire!\n(antistrophe 1)\nFate, all-pervading Fate, this service spun, commanding\nThat I should bide therein:\nWhosoe'er of mortals, made perverse and lawless,\nIs stained with blood of kin,\nBy his side are we, and hunt him ever onward,\nTill to the Silent Land,\nThe realm of death, he cometh; neither yonder\nIn freedom shall he stand.\n(refrain 1)\nHear the hymn of hell,\nO'er the victim sounding,-\nChant of frenzy, chant of ill,\nSense and will confounding!\nRound the soul entwining\nWithout lute or lyre-\nSoul in madness pining,\nWasting as with fire!\n(strophe 2)\nWhen from womb of Night we sprang, on us this labour\nWas laid and shall abide.\nGods immortal are ye, yet beware ye touch not\nThat which is our pride!\nNone may come beside us gathered round the blood-feast-\nFor us no garments white\nGleam on a festal day; for us a darker fate is,\nAnother darker rite.\n(refrain 2)\nThat is mine hour when falls an ancient line\nWhen in the household's heart\nThe God of blood doth slay by kindred hands,-\nThen do we bear our part:\nOn him who slays we sweep with chasing cry:\nThough he be triply strong,\nWe wear and waste him; blood atones for blood,\nYew pain for ancient wrong.\n(antistrophe 2)\nI hold this task-'tis mine, and not another's.\nThe very gods on high,\nThough they can silence and annul the prayers\nOf those who on us cry,\nThey may not strive with us who stand apart,\nA race by Zeus abhorred,\nBlood-boltered, held unworthy of the council\nAnd converse of Heaven's lord.\n(strophe 3)\nTherefore the more I leap upon my prey;\nUpon their head I bound;\nMy foot is hard; as one that trips a runner\nI cast them to the ground;\nYea, to the depth of doom intolerable;\nAnd they who erst were great,\nAnd upon earth held high their pride and glory,\nAre brought to low estate.\nIn underworld they waste and are diminished,\nThe while around them fleet\nDark wavings of my robes, and, subtly woven,\nThe paces of my feet.\n(antistrophe 3)\nWho falls infatuate, he sees not neither knows he\nThat we are at his side;\nSo closely round about him, darkly flitting,\nThe cloud of guilt doth glide.\nHeavily 'tis uttered, how around his hearthstone\nThe mirk of hell doth rise.\n(strophe 4)\nStern and fixed the law is; we have hands t' achieve it,\nCunning to devise.\nQueens are we and mindful of our solemn vengeance.\nNot by tear or prayer\nShall a man avert it. In unhonoured darkness,\nFar from gods, we fare,\nLit unto our task with torch of sunless regions,\nAnd o'er a deadly way-\nDeadly to the living as to those who see not\nLife and light of day-\nHunt we and press onward.\n(antistrophe 4)\nWho of mortals hearing\nDoth not quake for awe,\nHearing all that Fate thro' hand of God hath given us\nFor ordinance and law?\nYea, this right to us, in dark abysm and backward\nOf ages it befell:\nNone shall wrong mine office, tho' in nether regions\nAnd sunless dark I dwell. (ATHENA enters.)\nATHENA Far off I heard the clamour of your cry,\nAs by Scamander's side I set my foot\nAsserting right upon the land given o'er\nTo me by those who o'er Achaea's host\nHeld sway and leadership: no scanty part\nOf all they won by spear and sword, to me\nThey gave it, land and all that grew thereon,\nAs chosen heirloom for my Theseus' clan.\nThence summoned, sped I with a tireless foot,-\nHummed on the wind, instead of wings, the fold\nOf this mine aegis, by my feet propelled,\nAs, linked to mettled horses, speeds a car.\nAnd now, beholding here Earth's nether brood,\nI fear it nought, yet are mine eyes amazed\nWith wonder. Who are ye? of all I ask,\nAnd of this stranger to my statue clinging.\nBut ye-your shape is like no human form,\nLike to no goddess whom the gods behold,\nLike to no shape which mortal women wear.\nYet to stand by and chide a monstrous form\nIs all unjust-from such words Right revolts.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS O child of Zeus, one word shall tell thee all.\nWe are the children of eternal Night,\nAnd Furies in the underworld are called.\nATHENA I know your lineage now and eke your name.\nLEADER Yea, and eftsoons indeed my rights shalt know.\nATHENA Fain would I learn them; speak them clearly forth,\nLEADER We chase from home the murderers of men.\nATHENA And where at last can he that slew make pause?\nLEADER Where this is law-All joy abandon here.\nATHENA Say, do ye bay this man to such a flight?\nLEADER Yea, for of choice he did his mother slay.\nATHENA Urged by no fear of other wrath and doom?\nLEADER What spur can rightly goad to matricide?\nATHENA Two stand to plead-one only have I heard.\nLEADER He wiR not swear nor challenge us to oath.\nATHENA The form of justice, not its deed, thou willest.\nLEADER Prove thou that word; thou art not scant of skill.\nATHENA I say that oaths shall not enforce the wrong.\nLEADER Then test the cause, judge and award the right.\nATHENA Will ye to me then this decision trust?\nLEADER Yea, reverencing true child of worthy sire.\nATHENA (to ORESTES) O man unknown, make thou thy plea in turn.\nSpeak forth thy land, thy lineage, and thy woes;\nThen, if thou canst, avert this bitter blame-\nIf, as I deem, in confidence of right\nThou sittest hard beside my holy place,\nClasping this statue, as Ixion sat,\nA sacred suppliant for Zeus to cleanse,-\nTo all this answer me in words made plain.\nORESTES O queen Athena, first from thy last words\nWill I a great solicitude remove.\nNot one blood-guilty am I; no foul stain\nClings to thine image from my clinging hand;\nWhereof one potent proof I have to tell.\nLo, the law stands-The slayer shall not plead,\nTill by the hand of him who cleanses blood\nA suckling creature's blood besprinkle him.\nLong since have I this expiation done,-\nIn many a home, slain beasts and running streams\nHave cleansed me. Thus I speak away that fear.\nNext, of my lineage quickly thou shalt learn:\nAn Argive am I, and right well thou know'st\nMy sire, that Agamemnon who arrayed\nThe fleet and them that went therein to war-\nThat chief with whom thy hand combined to crush\nTo an uncitied heap what once was Troy;\nThat Agamemnon, when he homeward came,\nWas brought unto no honourable death,\nSlain by the dark-souled wife who brought me forth\nTo him,-enwound and slain in wily nets,\nBlazoned with blood that in the laver ran.\nAnd I, returning from an exiled youth,\nSlew her, my mother-lo, it stands avowed!\nWith blood for blood avenging my loved sire;\nAnd in this deed doth Loxias bear part,\nDecreeing agonies, to goad my will,\nUnless by me the guilty found their doom.\nDo thou decide if right or wrong were done-\nThy dooming, whatsoe'er it be, contents me.\nATHENA Too mighty is this matter, whosoe'er\nOf mortals claims to judge hereof aright.\nYea, me, even me, eternal Right forbids\nTo judge the issues of blood-guilt, and wrath\nThat follows swift behind. This too gives pause,\nThat thou as one with all due rites performed\nDost come, unsinning, pure, unto my shrine.\nWhate'er thou art, in this my city's name,\nAs uncondemned, I take thee to my side.-\nYet have these foes of thine such dues by fate,\nO'erthrown in judgment of the cause, forthwith\nTheir anger's poison shall infect the land-\nA dropping plague-spot of eternal ill.\nThus stand we with a woe on either hand:\nStay they, or go at my commandment forth,\nPerplexity or pain must needs befall.\nYet, as on me Fate hath imposed the cause,\nI choose unto me judges that shall be\nAn ordinance for ever, set to rule\nThe dues of blood-guilt, upon oath declared.\nBut ye, call forth your witness and your proof,\nWords strong for justice, fortified by oath;\nAnd I, whoe'er are truest in my town,\nThem will I choose and bring, and straitly charge,\nLook on this cause, discriminating well,\nAnd pledge your oath to utter nought of wrong. (ATHENA withdraws.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nNow are they all undone, the ancient laws,\nIf here the slayer's cause\nPrevail; new wrong for ancient right shall be\nIf matricide go free.\nHenceforth a deed like his by all shall stand,\nToo ready to the hand:\nToo oft shall parents in the aftertime\nRue and lament this crime,-\nTaught, not in false imagining, to feel\nTheir children's thrusting steel:\nNo more the wrath, that erst on murder fell\nFrom us, the queens of Hell,\nShall fall, no more our watching gaze impend-\nDeath shall smite unrestrained.\n(antistrophe 1)\nHenceforth shall one unto another cry\nLo, they are stricken, lo, they fall and die\nAround me! and that other answers him,\nO thou that lookest that thy woes should cease,\nBehold, with dark increase\nThey throng and press upon thee; yea, and dim\nIs all the cure, and every comfort vain!\n(strophe 2)\nLet none henceforth cry out, when falls the blow\nOf sudden-smiting woe,\nCry out in sad reiterated strain\nO Justice, aid! aid, O ye thrones of Hell!\nSo though a father or a mother wail\nNew-smitten by a son, it shall no more avail,\nSince, overthrown by wrong, the fane of justice fell!\n(antistrophe 2)\nKnow, that a throne there is that may not pass away,\nAnd one that sitteth on it-even Fear,\nSearching with steadfast eyes man's inner soul:\nWisdom is child of pain, and born with many a tear;\nBut who henceforth,\nWhat man of mortal men, what nation upon earth,\nThat holdeth nought in awe nor in the light\nOf inner reverence, shall worship Right\nAs in the older day?\n(strophe 3)\nPraise not, O man, the life beyond control,\nNor that which bows unto a tyrant's sway.\nKnow that the middle way\nIs dearest unto God, and they thereon who wend,\nThey shall achieve the end;\nBut they who wander or to left or right\nAre sinners in his sight.\nTake to thy heart this one, this soothfast word-\nOf wantonness impiety is sire;\nOnly from calm control and sanity unstirred\nCometh true weal, the goal of every man's desire.\n(antistrophe 3)\nYea, whatsoe'er befall, hold thou this word of mine:\nBow down at Justice' shrine,\nTurn thou thine eyes away from earthly lure,\nNor witk a godless foot that altar spurn.\nFor as thou dost shall Fate do in return,\nAnd the great doom is sure.\nTherefore let each adore a parent's trust,\nAnd each with loyalty revere the guest\nThat in his halls doth rest.\n(strophe 4)\nFor whoso uncompelled doth follow what is just,\nHe ne'er shall be unblest;\nYea, never to the gulf of doom\nThat man shall come.\nBut he whose will is set against the gods,\nWho treads beyond the law with foot impure,\nTill o'er the wreck of Right confusion broods,-\nKnow that for him, though now he sail secure,\nThe day of storm shall be; then shall he strive and fail\nDown from the shivered yard to furl the sail,\n(antistrophe 4)\nAnd call on Powers, that heed him nought, to save,\nAnd vainly wrestle with the whirling wave.\nHot was his heart with pride-\nI shall not fall, he cried.\nBut him with watching scorn\nThe god beholds, forlorn,\nTangled in toils of Fate beyond escape,\nHopeless of haven safe beyond the cape-\nTill all his wealth and bliss of bygone day\nUpon the reef of Rightful Doom is hurled,\nAnd he is rapt away\nUnwept, for ever, to the dead forgotten world. (ATHENA enters, with\nTWELVE ATHENIAN CITIZENS. A large crowd follows.)\nATHENA O herald, make proclaim, bid all men come.\nThen let the shrill blast of the Tyrrhene trump,\nFulfilled with mortal breath, thro' the wide air\nPeal a loud summons, bidding all men heed.\nFor, till my judges fill this judgment-seat,\nSilence behoves,-that this whole city learn,\nWhat for all time mine ordinance commands,\nAnd these men, that the cause be judged aright. (APOLLO enters.)\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS O king Apollo, rule what is thine own,\nBut in this thing what share pertains to thee?\nAPOLLO First, as a witness come I, for this man\nIs suppliant of mine by sacred right,\nGuest of my holy hearth and cleansed by me\nOf blood-guilt: then, to set me at his side\nAnd in his cause bear part, as part I bore\nErst in his deed, whereby his mother fell.\nLet whoso knoweth now announce the cause.\nATHENA (to the CHORUS) 'Tis I announce the cause-first speech be\nyours;\nFor rightfully shall they whose plaint is tried\nTell the tale first and set the matter clear.\nLEADER Though we be many, brief shall be our tale. (To ORESTES)\nAnswer thou, setting word to match with word;\nAnd first avow-hast thou thy mother slain?\nORESTES I slew her. I deny no word hereof.\nLEADER Three falls decide the wrestle-this is one.\nORESTES Thou vauntest thee-but o'er no final fall.\nLEADER Yet must thou tell the manner of thy deed.\nORESTES Drawn sword in hand, I gashed her neck. 'Tis told.\nLEADER But by whose word, whose craft, wert thou impelled?\nORESTES By oracles of him who here attests me.\nLEADER The prophet-god bade thee thy mother slay?\nORESTES Yea, and thro' him less ill I fared, till now.\nLEADER If the vote grip thee, thou shalt change that word.\nORESTES Strong is my hope; my buried sire shall aid.\nLEADER Go to now, trust the dead, a matricide!\nORESTES Yea, for in her combined two stains of sin.\nLEADER How? speak this clearly to the judges' mind.\nORESTES Slaying her husband, she did slay my sire.\nLEADER Therefore thou livest; death assoils her deed.\nORESTES Then while she lived why didst thou hunt her not?\nLEADER She was not kin by blood to him she slew.\nORESTES And I, am I by blood my mother's kin?\nLEADER O cursed with murder's guilt, how else wert thou\nThe burden of her womb? Dost thou forswear\nThy mother's kinship, closest bond of love?\nORESTES It is thine hour, Apollo-speak the law,\nAverring if this deed were justly done;\nFor done it is, and clear and undenied.\nBut if to thee this murder's cause seem right\nOr wrongful, speak-that I to these may tell.\nAPOLLO To you, Athena's mighty council-court,\nJustly for justice will I plead, even I,\nThe prophet-god, nor cheat you by one word.\nFor never spake I from my prophet-seat\nOne word, of man, of woman, or of state,\nSave what the Father of Olympian gods\nCommanded unto me. I rede you then,\nBethink you of my plea, how strong it stands,\nAnd follow the decree of Zeus our sire,-\nFor oaths prevail not over Zeus' command.\nLEADER Go to; thou sayest that from Zeus befell\nThe oracle that this Orestes bade\nWith vengeance quit the slaying of his sire,\nAnd hold as nought his mother's right of kin!\nAPOLLO Yea, for it stands not with a common death,\nThat he should die, a chieftain and a king\nDecked with the sceptre which high heaven confers-\nDie, and by female hands, not smitten down\nBy a far-shooting bow, held stalwartly\nBy some strong Amazon. Another doom\nWas his: O Pallas, hear, and ye who sit\nIn judgment, to discern this thing aright!-\nShe with a specious voice of welcome true\nHailed him, returning from the mighty mart\nWhere war for life gives fame, triumphant home;\nThen o'er the laver, as he bathed himself,\nShe spread from head to foot a covering net,\nAnd in the endless mesh of cunning robes\nEnwound and trapped her lord, and smote him down.\nLo, ye have heard what doom this chieftain met,\nThe majesty of Greece, the fleet's high lord:\nSuch as I tell it, let it gall your ears,\nWho stand as judges to decide this cause.\nLEADER Zeus, as thou sayest, holds a father's death\nAs first of crimes,-yet he of his own act\nCast into chains his father, Cronus old:\nHow suits that deed with that which now ye tell?\nO ye who judge, I bid ye mark my words!\nAPOLLO O monsters loathed of all, O scorn of gods,\nHe that hath bound may loose: a cure there is.\nYea, many a plan that can unbind the chain.\nBut when the thirsty dust sucks up man's blood\nOnce shed in death, he shall arise no more.\nNo chant nor charm for this my Sire hath wrought.\nAll else there is, he moulds and shifts at will,\nNot scant of strength nor breath, whate'er he do.\nLEADER Think yet, for what acquittal thou dost plead:\nHe who hath shed a mother's kindred blood,\nShall he in Argos dwell, where dwelt his sire?\nHow shall he stand before the city's shrines,\nHow share the clansmen's holy lustral bowl?\nAPOLLO This too I answer; mark a soothfast word\nNot the true parent is the woman's womb\nThat bears the child; she doth but nurse the seed\nNew-sown: the male is parent; she for him,\nAs stranger for a stranger, hoards the germ\nOf life, unless the god its promise blight.\nAnd proof hereof before you will I set.\nBirth may from fathers, without mothers, be:\nSee at your side a witness of the same,\nAthena, daughter of Olympian Zeus,\nNever within the darkness of the womb\nFostered nor fashioned, but a bud more bright\nThan any goddess in her breast might bear.\nAnd I, O Pallas, howsoe'er I may,\nHenceforth will glorify thy town, thy clan,\nAnd for this end have sent my suppliant here\nUnto thy shrine; that he from this time forth\nBe loyal unto thee for evermore,\nO goddess-queen, and thou unto thy side\nMayst win and hold him faithful, and his line,\nAnd that for aye this pledge and troth remain\nTo children's children of AtheniaD seed.\nATHENA Enough is said; I bid the judges now\nWith pure intent deliver just award.\nLEADER We too have shot our every shaft of speech,\nAnd now abide to hear the doom of law.\nATHENA (to APOLLO AND ORESTES) Say, how ordaining shall I 'scape\nyour blame?\nAPOLLO I spake, ye heard; enough. O stranger men,\nHeed well your oath as ye decide the cause.\nATHENA O men of Athens, ye who first do judge\nThe law of bloodshed, hear me now ordain.\nHere to all time for Aegeus' Attic host\nShall stand this council-court of judges sworn,\nHere the tribunal, set on Ares' Hill\nWhere camped of old the tented Amazons,\nWhat time in hate of Theseus they assailed\nAthens, and set against her citadel\nA counterwork of new sky-pointing towers,\nAnd there to Ares held their sacrifice,\nWhere now the rock hath name, even Ares' Hill.\nAnd hence shall Reverence and her kinsman Fear\nPass to each free man's heart, by day and night\nEnjoining, Thou shalt do no unjust thing,\nSo long as law stands as it stood of old\nUnmarred by civic change. Look you, the spring\nIs pure; but foul it once with influx vile\nAnd muddy clay, and none can drink thereof.\nTherefore, O citizens, I bid ye bow\nIn awe to this command, Let no man live,\nUncurbed by law nor curbed by tyranny;\nNor banish ye the monarchy of Awe\nBeyond the walls; untouched by fear divine,\nNo man doth justice in the world of men.\nTherefore in purity and holy dread\nStand and revere; so shall ye have and hold\nA saving bulwark of the state and land,\nSuch as no man hath ever elsewhere known,\nNor in far Scythia, nor in Pelops' realm.\nThus I ordain it now, a council-court\nPure and unsullied by the lust of gain,\nSacred and swift to vengeance, wakeful ever\nTo champion men who sleep, the country's guard.\nThus have I spoken, thus to mine own clan\nCommended it for ever. Ye who judge,\nArise, take each his vote, mete out the right,\nYour oath revering. Lo, my word is said. (The twelve judges come\nforward, one by one, to the urns of decision; the first votes; as\neach of the others follows, the LEADER and APOLLO speak alternately.)\nLEADER I rede ye well, beware! nor put to shame,\nIn aught, this grievous company of hell.\nAPOLLO I too would warn you, fear mine oracles-\nFrom Zeus they are,-nor make them void of fruit.\nLEADER Presumptuous is thy claim, blood-guilt to judge,\nAnd false henceforth thine oracles shall be.\nAPOLLO Failed then the counsels of my sire, when turned\nIxion, first of slayers, to his side?\nLEADER These are but words; but I, if justice fail me,\nWill haunt this land in grim and deadly deed.\nAPOLLO Scorn of the younger and the elder gods\nArt thou: 'tis I that shall prevail anon.\nLEADER Thus didst thou too of old in Pheres' halls,\nO'erreaching Fate to make a mortal deathless.\nAPOLLO Was it not well, my worshipper to aid,\nThen most of all when hardest was the need?\nLEADER I say thou didst annul the lots of life,\nCheating with wine the deities of eld.\nAPOLLO I say thou shalt anon, thy pleadings foiled,\nSpit venom vainly on thine enemies.\nLEADER Since this young god o'errides mine ancient right,\nI tarry but to claim your law, not knowing\nIf wrath of mine shall blast your state or spare.\nATHENA Mine is the right to add the final vote,\nAnd I award it to Orestes' cause.\nFor me no mother bore within her womb,\nAnd, save for wedlock evermore eschewed,\nI vouch myself the champion of the man,\nNot of the woman, yea, with all my soul,-\nIn heart, as birth, a father's child alone.\nThus will I not too heinously regard\nA woman's death who did her husband slay,\nThe guardian of her home; and if the votes\nEqual do fall, Orestes shall prevail.\nYe of the judges who are named thereto,\nSwiftly shake forth the lots from either urn. (Two judges come forward,\none to each urn.)\nORESTES O bright Apollo, what shall be the end?\nLEADER O Night, dark mother mine, dost mark these things?\nORESTES Now shall my doom be life, or strangling cords.\nLEADER And mine, lost honour or a wider sway.\nAPOLLO O stranger judges, sum aright the count\nOf votes cast forth, and, parting them, take heed\nYe err not in decision. The default\nOf one vote only bringeth ruin deep,\nOne, cast aright. doth stablish house and home.\nATHENA Behold, this man is free from guilt of blood,\nFor half the votes condemn him, half set free!\nORESTES O Pallas, light and safety of my home,\nThou, thou hast given me back to dwell once more\nIn that my fatherland, amerced of which\nI wandered; now shall Grecian lips say this,\nThe man is Argive once again, and dwells\nAgain within kiss father's wealthy hall,\nBy Pallas saved, by Loxias, and by Him,\nThe great third saviour, Zeus omnipotent-\nWho thus in pity for my father's fate\nDoth pluck me from my doom, beholding these,\nConfederates of my mother. Lo, I pass\nTo mine own home, but proffering this vow\nUnto thy land and people: Nevermore,\nThro' all the manifold years of Time to be,\nShall any chieftain of mine Argive land\nBear hitherward his spears for fight arrayed.\nFor we, though lapped in earth we then shall lie,\nBy thwart adversities will work our will\nOn them who shall transgress this oath of mine,\nPaths of despair and journeyings ill-starred\nFor them ordaining, till their task they rue.\nBut if this oath be rightly kept, to them\nWill we the dead be full of grace, the while\nWith loyal league they honour Pallas' town.\nAnd now farewell, thou and thy city's folk-\nFirm be thine arms' grasp, closing with thy foes,\nAnd, strong to save, bring victory to thy spear. (ORESTES and APOLLO\ndepart.)\nCHORUS (chanting) Woe on you, younger gods! the ancient right\nYe have o'erridden, rent it from my hands.\nI am dishonoured of you, thrust to scorn!\nBut heavily my wrath\nShall on this land fling forth the drops that blast and burn,\nVenom of vengeance, that shall work such scathe\nAs I have suffered; where that dew shall fall,\nShall leafless blight arise,\nWasting Earth's offspring,-Justice, hear my call!-\nAnd thorough all the land in deadly wise\nShall scatter venom, to exude again\nIn pestilence on men.\nWhat cry avails me now, what deed of blood,\nUnto this land what dark despite?\nAlack, alack, forlorn\nAre we, a bitter injury have borne!\nAlack, O sisters, O dishonoured brood\nOf mother Night!\nATHENA Nay, bow ye to my words, chafe not nor moan:\nYe are not worsted nor disgraced; behold,\nWith balanced vote the cause had issue fair,\nNor in the end did aught dishonour thee.\nBut thus the will of Zeus shone clearly forth,\nAnd his own prophet-god avouched the same,\nOrestes slew: his slaying is atoned.\nTherefore I pray you, not upon this land\nShoot forth the dart of vengeance; be appeased,\nNor blast the land with blight, nor loose thereon\nDrops of eternal venom, direful darts\nWasting and marring nature's seed of growth.\nFor I, the queen of Athens' sacred right,\nDo pledge to you a holy sanctuary\nDeep in the heart of this my land, made just\nBy your indwelling presence, while ye sit\nHard by your sacred shrines that gleam with oil\nOf sacrifice, and by this folk adored.\nCHORUS (chanting) Woe on you, younger gods! the ancient right\nYe have o'erridden, rent it from my hands.\nI am dishonoured of you, thrust to scorn!\nBut heavily my wrath\nShall on this land fling forth the drops that blast and burn,\nVenom of vengeance, that shall work such scathe\nAs I have suffered; where that dew shall fall,\nShall leafless blight arise,\nWasting Earth's offspring,-justice, hear my call!-\nAnd thorough all the land in deadly wise\nShall scatter venom, to exude again\nIn pestilence on men.\nWhat cry avails me now, what deed of blood,\nUnto this land what dark despite?\nAlack, alack, forlorn\nAre we, a bitter injury have borne!\nAlack, O sisters, O dishonoured brood\nOf mother Night!\nATHENA Dishonoured are ye not; turn not, I pray,\nAs goddesses your swelling wrath on men,\nNor make the friendly earth despiteful to them.\nI too have Zeus for champion-'tis enough-\nI only of all goddesses do know\nTo ope the chamber where his thunderbolts\nLie stored and sealed; but here is no such need.\nNay, be appeased, nor cast upon the ground\nThe malice of thy tongue, to blast the world;\nCalm thou thy bitter wrath's black inward surge,\nFor high shall be thine honour, set beside me\nFor ever in this land, whose fertile lap\nShall pour its teeming firstfruits unto you,\nGifts for fair childbirth and for wedlock's crown:\nThus honoured, praise my spoken pledge for aye.\nCHORUS (chanting) I, I dishonoured in this earth to dwell,-\nAncient of days and wisdom! I breathe forth\nPoison and breath of frenzied ire. O Earth,\nWoe, woe for thee, for me!\nFrom side to side what pains be these that thrill?\nHearken, O mother Night, my wrath, mine agony!\nWhom from mine ancient rights the gods have thrust\nAnd brought me to the dust-\nWoe, woe is me!-with craft invincible.\nATHENA Older art thou than I, and I will bear\nWith this thy fury. Know, although thou be\nMore wise in ancient wisdom, yet have\nFrom Zeus no scanted measure of the same,\nWherefore take heed unto this prophecy-\nIf to another land of alien men\nYe go, too late shall ye feel longing dreep\nFor mine. The rolling tides of time bring round\nA day of brighter glory for this town;\nAnd thou, enshrined in honour by the halls\nWhere dwelt Erechtheus, shalt a worship win\nFrom men and from the train of womankind,\nGreater than any tribe elsewhere shall pay.\nCast thou not therefore on this soil of mine\nWhetstones that sharpen souls to bloodshedding,\nThe burning goads of youthful hearts, made hot\nWith frenzy of the spirit, not of wine.\nNor pluck as 'twere the heart from cocks that strive,\nTo set it in the breast of citizens\nOf mine, a war-god's spirit, keen for fight,\nMade stern against their country and their kin.\nThe man who grievously doth lust for fame,\nWar, full, immitigable, let him wage\nAgainst the stranger; but of kindred birds\nI hold the challenge hateful. Such the boon\nI proffer thee-within this land of lands,\nMost loved of gods, with me to show and share\nFair mercy, gratitude and grace as fair.\nCHORUS (chanting) I, I dishonoured in this earth to dwell,-\nAncient of days and wisdom! I breathe forth\nPoison and breath of frenzied ire. O Earth,\nWoe, woe for thee, for me!\nFrom side to side what pains be these that thrill?\nHearken, O mother Night, my wrath, mine agony!\nWhom from mine ancient rights the gods have thrust\nAnd brought me to the dust-\nWoe, woe is me!-with craft invincible.\nATHENA I will not weary of soft words to thee,\nThat never mayst thou say, Behold me spurned,\nAn elder by a younger deity,\nAnd from this land rejected and forlorn,\nUnhonoured by the men who dwell therein.\nBut, if Persuasion's grace be sacred to thee,\nSoft in the soothing accents of my tongue,\nTarry, I Dray thee, yet, if go thou wilt.\nNot rightfully wilt thou on this my town\nSway down the scale that beareth wrath and teen\nOr wasting plague uport this folk. 'Tis thine,\nIf so thou wilt, inheritress to be\nOf this my land, its utmost grace to win.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS O queen, what refuge dost thou promise me?\nATHENA Refuge untouched by bale: take thou my boon.\nLEADER What, if I take it, shall mine honour be?\nATHENA No house shall prosper without grace of thine.\nLEADER Canst thou achieve and grant such power to me?\nATHENA Yea, for my hand shall bless thy worshippers.\nLEADER And wilt thou pledge me this for time eterne?\nATHENA Yea: none can bid me pledge beyond my power.\nLEADER Lo, I desist from wrath, appeased by thee.\nATHENA Then in the land's heart shalt thou win thee friends.\nLEADER What chant dost bid me raise, to greet the land?\nATHENA Such as aspires towards a victory\nUnrued by any: chants from breast of earth,\nFrom wave, from sky; and let the wild winds' breath\nPass with soft sunlight o'er the lap of land,-\nStrong wax the fruits of earth, fair teem the kine,\nUnfailing, for my town's prosperity,\nAnd constant be the growth of mortal seed.\nBut more and more root out the impious,\nFor as a gardener fosters what he sows,\nSo foster I this race, whom righteousness\nDoth fend from sorrow. Such the proffered boon.\nBut I, if wars must be, and their loud clash\nAnd carnage, for my town, will ne'er endure\nThat aught but victory shall crown her fame.\nCHORUS (chanting) Lo, I accept it; at her very side\nDoth Pallas bid me dwell:\nI will not wrong the city of her pride,\nWhich even Almighty Zeus and Ares hold\nHeaven's earthly citadel,\nLoved home of Grecian gods, the young, the old,\nThe sanctuary divine,\nThe shield of every shrine!\nFor Athens I say forth a gracious prophecy,-\nThe glory of the sunlight and the skies\nShall bid from earth arise\nWarm wavelets of new life and glad prosperity.\nATUENA (chanting) Behold, with gracious heart well pleased\nI for my citizens do grant\nFulfilment of this covenant:\nAnd here, their wrath at length appeased,\nThese mighty deities shall stay.\nFor theirs it is by right to sway\nThe lot that rules our mortal day,\nAnd he who hath not inly felt\nTheir stern decree, ere long on him,\nNot knowing why and whence, the grim\nLife-crushing blow is dealt.\nThe father's sin upon the child\nDescends, and sin is silent death,\nAnd leads him on the downward path,\nBy stealth beguiled,\nUnto the Furies: though his state\nOn earth were high, and loud his boast,\nVictim of silent ire and hate\nHe dwells among the Lost.\nCHORUS (chanting) To my blessing now give ear.-\nScorching blight nor singed air\nNever blast thine olives fair!\nDrouth, that wasteth bud and plant,\nKeep to thine own place. Avaunt,\nFamine fell, and come not hither\nStealthily to waste and wither!\nLet the land, in season due,\nTwice her waxing fruits renew;\nTeem the kine in double measure;\nRich in new god-given treasure;\nHere let men the powers adore\nFor sudden gifts unhoped before!\nATHENA (chanting) O hearken, warders of the wall\nThat guards mine Athens, what a dower\nIs unto her ordained and given!\nFor mighty is the Furies' power,\nAnd deep-revered in courts of heaven\nAnd realms of hell; and clear to all\nThey weave thy doom, mortality!\nAnd some in joy and peace shall sing;\nBut unto other some they bring\nSad life and tear-dimmed eye.\nCHORUS (chanting) And far away I ban thee and remove,\nUntimely death of youths too soon brought low!\nAnd to each maid, O gods, when time is come for love,\nGrant ye a warrior's heart, a wedded life to know.\nYe too, O Fates, children of mother Night,\nWhose children too are we, O goddesses\nOf just award, of all by sacred right\nQueens, who in time and in eternity\nDo rule, a present power for righteousness,\nHonoured beyond all Gods, hear ye and grant my cry!\nATHENA (chanting) And I too, I with joy am fain,\nHearing your voice this gift ordain\nUnto my land. High thanks be thine,\nPersuasion, who with eyes divine\nInto my tongue didst look thy strength,\nTo bend and to appease at length\nThose who would not be comforted.\nZeus, king of parley, doth prevail,\nAnd ye and I will strive nor fail,\nThat good may stand in evil's stead,\nAnd lasting bliss for bale.\nCHORUS (chanting) And nevermore these walls within\nShall echo fierce sedition's din,\nUnslaked with blood and crime;\nThe thirsty dust shall nevermore\nSuck up the darkly streaming gore\nOf civic broils, shed out in wrath\nAnd vengeance, crying death for death!\nBut man with man and state with state\nShall vow The pledge of common hate\nAnd common friendship, that for man\nHath oft made blessing, out of ban,\nBe ours unto all time.\nATHENA (chanting) Skill they, or not, the path to find\nOf favouring speech and presage kind?\nYea, even from these, who, grim and stern,\nGlared anger upon you of old,\nO citizens, ye now shall earn\nA recompense right manifold.\nDeck them aright, extol them high,\nBe loyal to their loyalty,\nAnd ye shall make your town and land\nSure, propped on justice' saving hand,\nAnd Fame's eternity.\nCHORUS (chanting) Hail ye, all hail! and yet again, all hail,\nO Athens, happy in a weal secured!\nO ye who sit by Zeus' right hand, nor fail\nOf wisdom set among you and assured,\nLoved of the well-loved Goddess-Maid! the King\nOf gods doth reverence you, beneath her guarding wing.\nATHENA (chanting) All hail unto each honoured guest!\nWhom to the chambers of your rest\n'Tis mine to lead, and to provide\nThe hallowed torch, the guard and guide.\nPass down, the while these altars glow\nWith sacred fire, to earth below\nAnd your appointed shrine.\nThere dwelling, from the land restrain\nThe force of fate, the breath of bane,\nBut waft on us the gift and gain\nOf Victory divine!\nAnd ye, the men of Cranaos' seed,\nI bid you now with reverence lead\nThese alien Powers that thus are made\nAthenian evermore. To you\nFair be their will henceforth, to do\nWhate'er may bless and aid!\nCHORUS (chanting) Hail to you all! hail yet again,\nAll who love Athens, gods and men,\nAdoring her as Pallas' home!\nAnd while ye reverence what ye grant-\nMy sacred shrine and hidden haunt-\nBlameless and blissful be your doom!\nATHENA Once more I praise the promise of your vows,\nAnd now I bid the golden torches' glow\nPass down before you to the hidden depth\nOf earth, by mine own sacred servants borne,\nMy loyal guards of statue and of shrine.\nCome forth, O flower of Attic land,\nO glorious band of children and of wives,\nAnd ye, O train of matrons crowned with eld!\nDeck you with festal robes of scarlet dye\nIn honour of this day: O gleaming torch,\nLead onward, that these gracious powers of earth\nHenceforth be seen to bless the life of men. (ATHENA leads the procession\ndownwards into the Cave of the FURIES, now Eumenides, under the Areopagus:\nas they go, the escort of women and children chant aloud)\nCHANT With loyalty we lead you; proudly go,\nNight's childless children, to your home below!\nO citizens, awhile from words forbear!\nTo darkness' deep primeval lair,\nFar in Earth's bosom, downward fare,\nAdored with prayer and sacrifice.\nO citizens, forbear your cries!\nPass hitherward, ye powers of Dread,\nWith all your former wrath allayed,\nInto the heart of this loved land;\nWith joy unto your temple wend,\nThe while upon your steps attend\nThe flames that feed upon the brand-\nNow, now ring out your chant, your joy's acclaim!\nBehind them, as they downward fare,\nLet holy hands libations bear,\nAnd torches' sacred flame.\nAll-seeing Zeus and Fate come down\nTo battle fair for Pallas' town!\nRing out your chant, ring out your joy's acclaim!\nTHE END","title":"Eumenides","type":"page"}