{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/aesch/suppli.htm","path":"cla/aesch/suppli.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/aesch/suppli.htm","text":"Dramatis Personae\nDANAUS\nTHE KING OF ARGOS\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS\nCHORUS OF THE DAUGHTERS OF DANAUS\nAttendants\nA sacred precinct near the shore in Argos. Several statues of the\ngods can be seen, as well as a large altar. As the play opens, DANAUS,\nand his fifty daughters, the maidens who compose the CHORUS, enter.\nTheir costumes have an oriental richness about them not characteristic\nof the strictly Greek. They carry also the wands of suppliants. The\nCHORUS is singing.\nCHORUS Zeus! Lord and guard of suppliant hands\nLook down benign on us who crave\nThine aid-whom winds and waters drave\nFrom where, through drifting shifting sands,\nPours Nilus to the wave.\nFrom where the green land, god-possest,\nCloses and fronts the Syrian waste,\nWe flee as exiles, yet unbanned\nBy murder's sentence from our land;\nBut-since Aegyptus had decreed\nHis sons should wed his brother's seed,-\nOurselves we tore from bonds abhorred,\nFrom wedlock not of heart but hand,\nNor brooked to call a kinsman lord!\nAnd Danaus, our sire and guide,\nThe king of counsel, pond'ring well\nThe dice of fortune as they fell,\nOut of two griefs the kindlier chose,\nAnd bade us fly, with him beside,\nHeedless what winds or waves arose,\nAnd o'er the wide sea waters haste,\nUntil to Argos' shore at last\nOur wandering pinnace came-\nArgos, the immemorial home\nOf her from whom we boast to come-\nIo, the ox-horned maiden, whom,\nAfter long wandering, woe, and scathe,\nZeus with a touch, a mystic breath,\nMade mother of our name.\nTherefore, of all the lands of earth,\nOn this most gladly step we forth,\nAnd in our hands aloft we bear-\nSole weapon for a suppliant's wear-\nThe olive-shoot, with wool enwound!\nCity, and land, and waters wan\nOf Inachus, and gods most high,\nAnd ye who, deep beneath the ground,\nBring vengeance weird on mortal man,\nPowers of the grave, on you we cry!\nAnd unto Zeus the Saviour, guard\nOf mortals' holy purity!\nReceive ye us-keep watch and ward\nAbove the suppliant maiden band!\nChaste be the heart of this your land\nTowards the weak! but, ere the throng,\nThe wanton swarm, from Egypt sprung,\nLeap forth upon the silted shore,\nThrust back their swift-rowed bark again,\nRepel them, urge them to the main!\nAnd there, 'mid storm and lightning's shine,\nAnd scudding drift and thunder's roar,\nDeep death be theirs, in stormy brine!\nBefore they foully grasp and win\nUs, maiden-children of their kin,\nAnd climb the couch by law denied,\nAnd wrong each weak reluctant bride.\n(strophe 1)\nAnd now on her I call,\nMine ancestress, who far on Egypt's shore\nA young cow's semblance wore,-\nA maiden once, by Hera's malice changed!\nAnd then on him withal,\nWho, as amid the flowers the grazing creature ranged,\nWas in her by a breath of Zeus conceived;\nAnd, as the hour of birth drew nigh,\nBy fate fulfilled, unto the light he came;-\nAnd Epaphus for name,\nBorn from the touch of Zeus, the child received\n(antistrophe 1)\nOn him, on him I cry,\nAnd him for patron hold-\nWhile in this grassy vale I stand,\nWhere lo roamed of old!\nAnd here, recounting all her toil and pain,\nSigns will I show to those who rule the land\nThat I am child of hers; and all shall understand,\nHearing the doubtful tale of the dim past made plain.\n(strophe 2)\nAnd, ere the end shall be,\nEach man the truth of what I tell shall see.\nAnd if there dwell hard by\nOne skilled to read from bird-notes augury,\nThat man, when through his ears shall thrill our tearful wail,\nShall deem he hears the voice, the plaintive tale\nOf her, the piteous spouse of Tereus, lord of guile-\nWhom the hawk harries yet, the mourning nightingale.\n(antistrophe 2)\nShe, from her happy home and fair streams scared away,\nWails wild and sad for haunts beloved erewhile.\nYea, and for Itylus-ah, well-a-day!\nSlain by her own, his mother's hand,\nMaddened by lustful wrong, the deed by Tereus planned!\n(strophe 3)\nLike her I wail and wail, in soft lonian tones,\nAnd as she wastes, even so\nWastes my soft cheek, once ripe with Nilus' suns,\nAnd all my heart dissolves in utter woe.\nSad flowers of grief I cull,\nFleeing from kinsmen's love unmerciful-\nYea, from the clutching hands, the wanton crowd,\nI sped across the waves, from Egypt's land of cloud.\n(antistrophe 3)\nGods of the ancient cradle of my race,\nHear me, just gods! With righteous grace\nOn me, on me look down!\nGrant not to youth its heart's unchaste desire,\nBut, swiftly spurning lust's unholy fire,\nBless only love and willing wedlock's crown!\nThe war-worn fliers from the battle's wrack\nFind refuge at the hallowed altar-side,\nThe sanctuary divine,-\nYe gods! such refuge unto me provide-\nSuch sanctuary be mine!\n(strophe 4)\nThough the deep will of Zeus be hard to track,\nYet doth it flame and glance,\nA beacon in the dark, 'mid clouds of chance\nThat wrap mankind.\n(antistrophe 4)\nYea, though the counsel fall, undone it shall not lie,\nWhate'er be shaped and fixed within Zeus' ruling mind-\nDark as a solemn grove, with sombre leafage shaded,\nHis paths of purpose wind,\nA marvel to man's eye.\n(strophe 5)\nSmitten by him, from towering hopes degraded,\nMortals lie low and still.-\nTireless and effortless, works forth its will\nThe arm divine!\nGod from His holy seat, in calm of unarmed power,\nBrings forth the deed, at its appointed hour!\n(antistrophe 5)\nLet Him look down on mortal wantonness!\nLo! how the youthful stock of Belus' line\nCraves for me, uncontrolled-\nWith greed and madness bold-\nUrged on by passion's shunless stress-\nAnd, cheated, learns too late the prey has 'scaped their hold!\n(strophe 6)\nAh, listen, listen to my grievous tale,\nMy sorrow's words, my shrill and tearful cries!\nAh woe, ah woe!\nLoud with lament the accents rise,\nAnd from my living lips my own sad dirges flow!\n(refrain 1)\nO Apian land of hill and dale,\nThou kennest yet, O land, this faltered foreign wail-\nHave mercy, hear my prayer!\nLo, how again, again, rend and tear\nMy woven raiment, and from off my hair\nCast the Sidonian veil!\n(antistrophe 6)\nAh, but if fortune smile, if death be driven away,\nVowed rites, with eager haste, we to the gods will pay!\nAlas, alas again!\nO whither drift the waves? and who shall loose the pain?\n(refrain 1)\nO Apian land of hill and dale,\nThou kennest yet, O land, this faltered foreign wail\nHave mercy, hear my prayer!\nLo, how again, again, I rend and tear\nMy woven raiment, and from off my hair\nCast the Sidonian veil!\n(strophe 7)\nThe wafting oar, the bark with woven sail,\nFrom which the sea foamed back,\nSped me, unharmed of storms, along the breeze's track-\nBe it unblamed of me!\nBut ah, the end, the end of my emprise!\nMay He, the Father, with all-seeing eyes,\nGrant me that end to see!\n(refrain 2)\nGrant that henceforth unstained as heretofore\nI may escape the forced embrace\nOf those proud children of the race\nThat sacred Io bore.\n(antistrophe 7)\nAnd thou, O maiden-goddess chaste and pure-\nQueen of the inner fane-\nLook of thy grace on me, O Artemis,\nThy willing suppliant-thine, thine it is;,\nWho from the lustful onslaught fled secure,\nTo grant that I too without stain\nThe shelter of thy purity may gain!\n(refrain 2)\nGrant that henceforth unstained as heretofore\nI may escape the forced embrace\nOf those proud children of the race\nThat sacred Io bore!\n(strophe 8)\nYet if this may not be,\nWe, the dark race sun-smitten, we\nWill speed with suppliant wands\nTo Zeus who rules below, with hospitable hands\nWho welcomes all the dead from all the lands:\nYea, by our own hands strangled, we will go,\nSpurned by Olympian gods, unto the gods below!\n(refrain 3)\nZeus, hear and save!\nThe searching, poisonous hate, that Io vexed and drave,\nWas of a goddess: well I know\nThe bitter ire, the wrathful woe\nOf Hera, queen of heaven-\nA storm, a storm her breath, whereby we yet are driven!\n(antistrophe 8)\nBethink thee, what dispraise\nOf Zeus himself mankind will raise,\nIf now he turn his face averted from our cries!\nIf now, dishonoured and alone,\nThe ox-horned maiden's race shall be undone,\nChildren of Epaphus, his own begotten son-\nZeus, listen from on high!-to thee our prayers arise.\n(refrain 3)\nZeus, hear and save!\nThe searching poisonous hate, that lo vexed and drave,\nWas of a goddess: well I know\nThe bitter ire, the wrathful woe\nOf Hera, queen of heaven-\nA storm, a storm her breath, whereby we yet are driven! (After the\nCHORUS has finished its song and dance, DANAUS comes forward.)\nDANAUS Children, be wary-wary he with whom\nYe come, your trusty sire and steersman old:\nAnd that same caution hold I here on land,\nAnd bid you hoard my words, inscribing them\nOn memory's tablets. Lo, I see afar\nDust, voiceless herald of a host, arise;\nAnd hark, within their griding sockets ring\nAxles of hurrying wheels! I see approach,\nBorne in curved cars, by speeding horses drawn,\nA speared and shielded band. The chiefs, perchance.\nOf this their land are hitherward intent\nTo look on us, of whom they yet have heard\nBy messengers alone. But come who may,\nAnd come he peaceful or in ravening wrath\nSpurred on his path, 'twere best, in any case,\nDamsels, to cling unto this altar-mound\nMade sacred to their gods of festival,-\nA shrine is stronger than a tower to save,\nA shield that none may cleave. Step swift thereto,\nAnd in your left hands hold with reverence\nThe white-crowned wands of suppliance, the sign\nBeloved of Zeus, compassion's lord, and speak\nTo those that question you, words meek and low\nAnd piteous, as beseems your stranger state,\nClearly avowing of this flight of yours\nThe bloodless cause; and on your utterance\nSee to it well that modesty attend;\nFrom downcast eyes, from brows of pure control,\nLet chastity look forth; nor, when ye speak,\nBe voluble nor eager-they that dwell\nWithin this land are sternly swift to chide.\nAnd be your words submissive: heed this well;\nFor weak ye are, outcasts on stranger lands,\nAnd froward talk beseems not strengthless hands.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS O father, warily to us aware\nThy words are spoken, and thy wisdom's hest\nMy mind shall hoard, with Zeus our sire to aid.\nDANAUS Even so-with gracious aspect let him aid.\nLEADER Fain were I now to seat me by thy side-\nDANAUS Now dally not, but put our thought in act.\nLEADER Zeus, pity our distress, or e'er we die.\nDANAUS If so he will, your toils to joy will turn.\nLEADER Lo, on this shrine, the semblance of a bird.\nDANAUS Zeus' bird of dawn it is; invoke the sign.\nLEADER Thus I invoke the saving rays of morn.\nDANAUS Next, bright Apollo, exiled once from heaven.\nLEADER The exiled god will pity our exile.\nDANAUS Yea, may he pity, giving grace and aid.\nLEADER Whom next invoke I, of these other gods?\nDANAUS Lo, here a trident, symbol of a god.\nLEADER Who gave sea-safety; may he bless on land!\nDANAUS This next is Hermes, carved in Grecian wise.\nLEADER Then let him herald help to freedom won.\nDANAUS Lastly, adore this altar consecrate\nTo many lesser gods in one; then crouch\nOn holy ground, a flock of doves that flee,\nScared by no alien hawks, a kin not kind,\nHateful, and fain of love more hateful still,\nFoul is the bird that rends another bird,\nAnd foul the men who hale unwilling maids,\nFrom sire unwilling, to the bridal bed.\nNever on earth, nor in the lower world,\nShall lewdness such as theirs escape the ban:\nThere too, if men say right, a God there is\nWho upon dead men turns their sin to doom,\nTo final doom. Take heed, draw hitherward,\nThat from this hap your safety ye may win. (The KING OF ARGOS enters,\nfollowed by his attendants and soldiers.)\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Speak-of what land are ye? No Grecian band\nIs this to whom I speak, with Eastern robes\nAnd wrappings richly dight: no Argive maid,\nNo woman in all Greece such garb doth wear,\nThis too gives marvel, how unto this land,\nUnheralded, unfriended, without guide,\nAnd without fear, ye came? yet wands I see,\nTrue sign of suppliance, by you laid down\nOn shrines of these our gods of festival.\nNo land but Greece can rede such signs aright.\nMuch else there is, conjecture well might guess,\nBut let words teach the man who stands to hear.\nLEADER True is the word thou spakest of my garb;\nBut speak I unto thee as citizen,\nOr Hermes' wandbearer, or chieftain king?\nTHE KING OF ARGOS For that, take heart and answer without fear.\nI am Pelasgus, ruler of this land,\nChild of Palaichthon, whom the earth brought forth;\nAnd, rightly named from me, the race who reap\nThis country's harvests are Pelasgian called.\nAnd o'er the wide and westward-stretching land,\nThrough which the lucent wave of Strymon flows,\nI rule; Perrhaebia's land my boundary is\nNorthward, and Pindus' further slopes, that watch\nPaeonia, and Dodona's mountain ridge.\nWest, east, the limit of the washing seas\nRestrains my rule-the interspace is mine.\nBut this whereon we stand is Apian land,\nStyled so of old from the great healer's name;\nFor Apis, coming from Naupactus' shore\nBeyond the strait, child of Apollo's self\nAnd like him seer and healer, cleansed this land\nFrom man-devouring monsters, whoin the earth,\nStained with pollution of old bloodshedding,\nBrought forth in malice, beasts of ravening jaws,\nA grisly throng of serpents manifold.\nAnd healings of their hurt, by knife and charm,\nApis devised, unblamed of Argive men,\nAnd in their prayers found honour, for reward.\n-Lo, thou hast heard the tokens that I give:\nSpeak now thy race, and tell a forthright tale;\nIn sooth, this people loves not many words.\nLEADER Short is my word and clear. Of Argive race\nWe come, from her, the ox-horned maiden who\nErst bare the sacred child. My word shall give\nWhate'er can stablish this my soothfast tale.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS O stranger maids, I may not trust this word,\nThat ye have share in this our Argive race.\nNo likeness of our country do ye bear,\nBut semblance as of Libyan womankind.\nEven such a stock by Nilus' banks might grow;\nYea, and the Cyprian stamp, in female forms,\nShows, to the life, what males impressed the same.\nAnd, furthermore, of roving Indian maids\nWhose camping-grounds by Aethiopia lie,\nAnd camels burdened even as mules, and bearing\nRiders, as horses bear, mine ears have heard;\nAnd tales of flesh-devouring mateless maids\nCalled Amazons: to these, if bows ye bare,\nI most had deemed you like. Speak further yet,\nThat of your Argive birth the truth I learn.\nLEADER Here in this Argive land-so runs the tale-\nIo was priestess once of Hera's fane.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Yea, truth it is, and far this word prevails:\nIs't said that Zeus with mortal mingled love?\nLEADER Ay, and that Hera that embrace surmised.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS How issued then this strife of those on high?\nLEADER By Hera's will, a heifer she became.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Held Zeus aloof then from the horned beast?\nLEADER 'Tis said, he loved, in semblance of a bull.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS And his stern consort, did she aught thereon?\nLEADER One myriad-eyed she set, the heifer's guard.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS How namest thou this herdsman many-eyed?\nLEADER Argus, the child of Earth, whom Hermes slew.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Still did the goddess vex the beast ill-starred?\nLEADER She wrought a gadfly with a goading sting.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Thus drave she Io hence, to roam afar?\nLEADER Yea-this thy word coheres exact with mine.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Then to Canopus and to Memphis came she?\nLEADER And by Zeus' hand was touched, and bare a child.\nTHE KING of ARGOS\nWho vaunts him the Zeus-mated creature's son?\nLEADER Epaphus, named rightly from the saving touch.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS And whom in turn did Epaphus beget?\nLEADER Libya, with name of a wide land endowed.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS And who from her was born unto the race?\nLEADER Belus: from him two sons, my father one.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Speak now to me his name, this greybeard wise.\nLEADER Danaus; his brother fifty sons begat.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Grudge not, in telling, his name too to tell.\nLEADER Aegyptus: thou my lineage old hast heard-\nStrive then to aid a kindred Argive band.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Yea of a truth, in backward scope of time,\nOf Argive race ye seem: but say what chance\nFell on you, goading you from home and land?\nLEADER Lord of Pelasgian men, calamity\nIs manifold and diverse; as of birds\nFeather from feather differs, so of men\nThe woes are sundry. Who had dared foretell\nThat this our sudden flight, this hate and fear\nOf loathly wedlock, would on Argos' shore\nSet forth a race of kindred lineage?\nTHE KING OF ARGOS What crave ye of these gods of festival,\nHolding up newly-plucked white-tufted boughs?\nLEADER Ne'er to be slaves unto Aegyptus' race.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Doth your own hate, or doth the law forbid?\nLEADER Not as our lords, but as unloved, we chide them.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS 'Tis from such wedlock that advancement comes,\nLEADER How easy is it, from the weak to turn!\nTHE KING OF ARGOS How then toward you can I be conscience-clear?\nLEADER Deny us, though Aegyptus' race demand.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS A heavy task thou namest, a rash war.\nLEADER But Justice champions them who strike for her.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Yea, if their side was from the outset hers.\nLEADER Revere the gods thus crowned, who steer the State.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Awe thrills me, seeing these shrines with leafage\ncrowned. (The whole CHORUS now sings its responses to the KING.)\nCHORUS (strophe 1)\nYea, stern the wrath of Zeus, the suppliants' lord.\nChild of Palaichthon, royal chief\nOf thy Pelasgians, hear!\nBow down thine heart to my relief-\nA fugitive, a suppliant, swift with fear,\nA creature whom the wild wolves chase\nO'er toppling crags; in piteous case\nAloud, afar she lows,\nCalling the herdsman's trusty arm to save her from her foes!\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Lo, with bowed heads beside our city shrines\nYe sit 'neath shade of new-plucked olive-boughs.\nOur distant kin's resentment Heaven forefend!\nLet not this hap, unhoped and unforeseen,\nBring war on us: for strife we covet not.\nCHORUS (antistrophe 1)\nJustice, the daughter of right-dealing Zeus,\nJustice, the queen of suppliants, look down,\nThat this our plight no ill may loose\nUpon your town!\nThis word, even from the young, let age and wisdom learn:\nIf thou to suppliants show grace,\nThou shalt not lack Heaven's grace in turn,\nSo long as virtue's gifts on heavenly shrines have place.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Not at my private hearth ye sit and sue;\nAnd if the city bear a common stain,\nBe it the common toil to cleanse the same:\nTherefore no pledge, no promise will I give,\nEre counsel with the commonwealth be held.\nCHORUS (strophe 2)\nNay, but the source of sway, the city's self, art thou,\nA power unjudged! thine, only thine,\nTo rule the right of hearth and shrine!\nBefore thy throne and sceptre all men bow!\nThou, in all causes lord, beware the curse divine!\nTHE KING OF ARGOS May that curse fall upon mine enemies!\nI cannot aid you without risk of scathe,\nNor scorn your prayers-unmerciful it were.\nPerplexed, distraught I stand, and fear alike\nThe twofold chance, to do or not to do.\nCHORUS (antistrophe 2)\nHave heed of him who looketh from on high,\nThe guard of woeful mortals, whosoe'er\nUnto their fellows cry,\nAnd find no pity, find no justice there.\nAbiding in his wrath, the suppliants' lord\nDoth smite, unmoved by cries, unbent by prayerful word.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS But if Aegyptus' children grasp you here,\nClaiming, their country's right, to hold you theirs\nAs next of kin, who dares to counter this?\nPlead ye your country's laws, if plead ye may,\nThat upon you they lay no lawful hand.\nCHORUS (strophe 3)\nLet me not fall, O nevermore,\nA prey into the young men's hand;\nRather than wed whom I abhor,\nBy pilot-stars I flee this land;\nO king, take justice to thy side,\nAnd with the righteous powers decide!\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Hard is the cause-make me not judge thereof.\nAlready I have vowed it, to do nought\nSave after counsel with my people ta'en,\nKing though I be; that ne'er in after time,\nIf ill fate chance, my people then may say-\nIn aid of strangers thou the State hast slain.\nCHORUS (antistrophe 3)\nZeus, lord of kinship, rules at will\nThe swaying balance, and surveys\nEvil and good; to men of ill\nGives evil, and to good men praise,\nAnd thou-since true those scales do sway-\nShalt thou from justice shrink away?\nTHE KING OF ARGOS A deep, a saving counsel here there needs-\nAn eye that like a diver to the depth\nOf dark perplexity can pass and see,\nUndizzied, unconfused. First must we care\nThat to the State and to ourselves this thing\nShall bring no ruin; next, that wrangling hands\nShall grasp you not as prey, nor we ourselves\nBetray you thus embracing sacred shrines,\nNor make the avenging all-destroying god,\nWho not in hell itself sets dead men free,\nA grievous inmate, an abiding bane.\n-Spake I not right, of saving counsel's need?\nCHORUS (strophe 4)\nYea, counsel take and stand to aid\nAt justice' side and mine.\nBetray not me, the timorous maid\nWhom far beyond the brine\nA godless violence cast forth forlorn.\n(antistrophe 4)\nO King, wilt thou behold-\nLord of this land, wilt thou behold me torn\nFrom altars manifold?\nBethink thee of the young men's wrath and lust,\nHold off their evil pride;\n(strophe 5)\nSteel not thyself to see the suppliant thrust\nFrom hallowed statues' side,\nHaled by the frontlet on my forehead bound,\nAs steeds are led, and drawn\nBy hands that drag from shrine and altar-mound\nMy vesture's fringed lawn.\n(antistrophe 5)\nKnow thou that whether for Aegyptus' race\nThou dost their wish fulfil,\nOr for the gods and for each holy place-\nBe thy choice good or ill,\nBlow is with blow requited, grace with grace.\nSuch is Zeus' righteous will.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Yea, I have pondered: from the sea of doubt\nHere drives at length the bark of thought ashore;\nLandward with screw and windlass haled, and firm,\nClamped to her props, she lies. The need is stern;\nWith men or gods a mighty strife we strive\nPerforce, and either hap in grief concludes.\nFor, if a house be sacked, new wealth for old\nNot hard it is to win-if Zeus the lord\nOf treasure favour-more than quits the loss,\nEnough to pile the store of wealth full high;\nOr if a tongue shoot forth untimely speech,\nBitter and strong to goad a man to wrath,\nSoft words there be to soothe that wrath away:\nBut what device shall make the war of kin\nBloodless? that woe, the blood of many beasts,\nAnd victims manifold to many gods,\nAlone can cure. Right glad I were to shun\nThis strife, and am more fain of ignorance\nThan of the wisdom of a woe endured.\nThe gods send better than my soul foretells!\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Of many cries for mercy, hear the end.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Say on, then, for it shall not 'scape mine ear.\nLEADER Girdles we have, and bands that bind our robes.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Even so; such things beseem a woman's wear.\nLEADER Know, then, with these a fair device there is-\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Speak, then: what utterance doth this foretell?\nLEADER Unless to us thou givest pledge secure\nTHE KING OF ARGOS What can thy girdles' craft achieve for thee?\nLEADER Strange votive tablets shall these statues deck.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Mysterious thy resolve-avow it clear.\nLEADER Swiftly to hang me on these sculptured gods!\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Thy word is as a lash to urge my heart.\nLEADER Thou seest truth, for I have cleared thine eyes.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Yea, and woes manifold, invincible,\nA crowd of ills, sweep on me torrent-like.\nMy bark goes forth upon a sea of troubles\nUnfathomed, ill to traverse, harbourless.\nFor if my deed shall match not your demand,\nDire, beyond shot of speech, shall be the bane\nYour death's pollution leaves unto this land.\nYet if against your kin, Aegyptus' race,\nBefore our gates I front the doom of war,\nWill not the city's loss be sore? Shall men\nFor women's sake incarnadine the ground?\nBut yet the wrath of Zeus, the suppliants' lord,\nI needs must fear: most awful unto man\nThe terror of his anger. Thou, old man,\nThe father of these maidens, gather up\nWithin your arms these wands of suppliance,\nAnd lay them at the altars manifold\nOf all our country's gods, that all the town\nKnow, by this sign, that ye come here to sue.\nNor, in thy haste, do thou say aught of me.\nSwift is this folk to censure those who rule;\nBut, if they see these signs of suppliance,\nIt well may chance that each will pity you,\nAnd loathe the young men's violent pursuit;\nAnd thus a fairer favour you may find:\nFor, to the helpless, each man's heart is kind.\nDANAUS To us, beyond gifts manifold it is\nTo find a champion thus compassionate;\nYet send with me attendants, of thy folk,\nRightly to guide me, that I duly find\nEach altar of your city's gods that stands\nBefore the fane, each dedicated shrine;\nAnd that in safety through the city's ways\nI may pass onwards: all unlike to yours\nThe outward semblance that I wear-the race\nThat Nilus rears is all dissimilar\nTo that of Inachus. Keep watch and ward\nLest heedlessness bring death: full oft, I ween,\nFriend hath slain friend, not knowing whom he slew.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Go at his side, attendants,-he saith well.\nOn to the city's consecrated shrines!\nNor be of many words to those ye meet,\nThe while this suppliant voyager ye lead. (DANAUS departs with attendants.)\nLEADER Let him go forward, thy command obeying.\nBut me how biddest, how assurest thou?\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Leave there the new-plucked boughs, thy sorrow's\nsign.\nLEADER Thus beckoned forth, at thy behest I leave them.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Now to this level precinct turn thyself.\nLEADER Unconsecrate it is, and cannot shield me.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS We will not yield thee to those falcons' greed.\nLEADER What help? more fierce they are than serpents fell.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS We spake thee fair-speak thou them fair in turn.\nLEADER What marvel that we loathe them, scared in soul?\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Awe towards a king should other fears transcend.\nLEADER Thus speak, thus act, and reassure my mind.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Not long thy sire shall leave thee desolate.\nBut I will call the country's indwellers,\nAnd with soft words th' assembly will persuade,\nAnd warn your sire what pleadings will avail.\nTherefore abide ye, and with prayer entreat\nThe country's gods to compass your desire;\nThe while I go, this matter to provide,\nPersuasion and fair fortune at my side. (The KING OF ARGOS departs\nwith his retinue. The CHORUS forms to sing its prayer to Zeus.)\nCHORUS (strophe 1)\nO King of Kings, among the blest\nThou highest and thou happiest,\nListen and grant our prayer,\nAnd, deeply loathing, thrust\nAway from us the young men's lust,\nAnd deeply drown\nIn azure waters, down and ever down,\nBenches and rowers dark,\nThe fatal and perfidious bark!\n(antistrophe 1)\nUnto the maidens turn thy gracious care;\nThink yet again upon the tale of fame,\nHow from the maiden loved of thee there sprung\nMine ancient line, long since in many a legend sung!\nRemember, O remember, thou whose hand\nDid Io by a touch to human shape reclaim.\nFor from this Argos erst our mother came\nDriven hence to Egypt's land,\nYet sprung of Zeus we were, and hence our birth we claim.\n(strophe 2)\nAnd now have I roamed back\nUnto the ancient track\nWhere Io roamed and pastured among flowers,\nWatched o'er by Argus' eyes,\nThrough the lush grasses and the meadow bowers.\nThence, by the gadfly maddened, forth she flies\nUnto far lands and alien peoples driven\nAnd, following fate, through paths of foam and surge,\nSees, as she goes, the cleaving strait divide\nGreece, from the Eastland riven.\n(antistrophe 2)\nAnd swift through Asian borders doth she urge\nHer course, o'er Phrygian mountains' sheep-clipt side;\nThence, where the Mysian realm of Teuthras lies,\nTowards Lydian lowlands hies,\nAnd o'er Cilician and Pamphylian hills\nAnd ever-flowing rills,\nAnd thence to Aphrodite's fertile shore,\nThe land of garnered wheat and wealthy store.\n(strophe 3)\nAnd thence, deep-stung by wild unrest,\nBy the winged fly that goaded her and drave,\nUnto the fertile land, the god-possest\n(Where, fed from far-off snows,\nLife-giving Nilus flows,\nUrged on by Typho's strength, a fertilizing wave),\nShe roves, in harassed and dishonoured flight,\nScathed by the blasting pangs of Hera's dread despite.\n(antistrophe 3)\nAnd they within the land\nWith terror shook and wanned,\nSo strange the sight they saw, and were afraid-\nA wild twy-natured thing, half heifer and half maid.\nWhose hand was laid at last on Io, thus forlorn,\nWith many roamings worn?\nWho bade the harassed maiden's peace return?\n(strophe 4)\nZeus, lord of time eterne.\nYea, by his breath divine, by his unscathing strength,\nShe lays aside her bane,\nAnd softened back to womanhood at length\nSheds human tears again.\nThen, quickened with Zeus' veritable seed,\nA progeny she bare,\nA stainless babe, a child of heavenly breed.\n(antistrophe 4)\nOf life and fortune fair.\nHis is the life of life-so all men say,-\nHis is the seed of Zeus.\nWho else had power stern Hera's craft to stay,\nHer vengeful curse to loose?\nYea, all from Zeus befel!\nAnd rightly wouldst thou tell\nThat we from Epaphus, his child, were born:\nJustly his deed was done;\n(strophe 5)\nUnto what other one,\nOf all the gods, should I for justice turn?\nFrom him our race did spring;\nCreator he and King,\nAncient of days and wisdom he, and might.\nAs bark before the wind,\nSo, wafted by his mind,\nMoves every counsel, each device aright.\n(antistrophe 5)\nBeneath no stronger hand\nHolds he a weak command,\nNo throne doth he abase him to adore;\nSwift as a word, his deed\nActs out what stands decreed\nIn counsels of his heart, for evermore. (DANAUS re-enters.)\nDANAUS Take heart, my children: the land's heart is kind,\nAnd to full issue has their voting come.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS All hail, my sire; thy word brings utmost joy.\nSay, to what issue is the vote made sure,\nAnd how prevailed the people's crowding hands?\nDANAUS With one assent the Argives spake their will,\nAnd, hearing, my old heart took youthful cheer.\nThe very sky was thrilled when high in air\nThe concourse raised right hands and swore their oath:-\nFree shall the maidens sojourn in this land.\nUnharried, undespoiled by mortal wight:\nNo native hand, no hand of foreigner\nShall drag them hence; if any man use force-\nWhoe'er of all our countrymen shall fail\nTo come unto their aid, let him go forth,\nBeneath the people's curse, to banishment.\nSo did the king of this Pelasgian folk\nPlead on behalf of us, and bade them heed\nThat never, in the after-time, this realm\nShould feed to fulness the great enmity\nOf Zeus, the suppliants' guard, against itself!\nA twofold curse, for wronging stranger-guests\nWho are akin withal, confrontingly\nShould rise before this city and be shown\nA ruthless monster, fed on human doom.\nSuch things the Argive people heard, and straight,\nWithout proclaim of herald, gave assent:\nYea, in full conclave, the Pelasgian folk\nHeard suasive pleas, and Zeus through them resolved. (The CHORUS\nnow sings a prayer of thankfulness.)\nCHORUS Arouse we now to chant our prayer\nFor fair return of service fair\nAnd Argos' kindly will.\nZeus, lord of guestright, look upon\nThe grace our stranger lips have won.\nIn right and truth, as they begun,\nGuide them, with favouring hand, until\nThou dost their blameless wish fulfil!\n(strophe 1)\nNow may the Zeus-born gods on high\nHear us pour forth\nA votive prayer for Argos' clan!-\nNever may this Pelasgian earth,\nAmid the fire-wrack, shrill the dismal cry\nOn Ares, ravening lord of fight,\nWho in an alien harvest mows down man!\nFor lo, this land had pity on our plight,\nAnd unto us were merciful and leal,\nTo us, the piteous flock, who at Zeus' altar kneel!\n(antistrophe 1)\nThey scorned not the pleas of maidenhood,\nNor with the young men's will hath their will stood.\nThey knew right well\nTh' unearthly watching fiend invincible,\nThe foul avenger-let him not draw near!\nFor he, on roofs ill-starred,\nDefiling and polluting, keeps a ghastly ward!\nThey knew his vengeance, and took holy heed\nTo us, the sister suppliants, who cry\nTo Zeus, the lord of purity:\nTherefore with altars pure they shall the gods revere.\nThus, through the boughs that shade our lips, fly forth in air,\n(strophe 2)\nFly forth, O eager prayer!\nMay never pestilence efface\nThis city's race,\nNor be the land with corpses strewed,\nNor stained with civic blood!\nThe stem of youth, unpluckt, to manhood come,\nNor Ares rise from Aphrodite's bower,\nThe lord of death and bane, to waste our youthful flower.\n(antistrophe 2)\nLong may the old\nCrowd to the altars kindled to consume\nGifts rich and manifold-\nOffered to win from powers divine\nA benison on city and on shrine:\nLet all the sacred might adore\nOf Zeus most high, the lord\nOf guestright and the hospitable board,\nWhose immemorial law doth rule Fate's scales aright:\nThe garners of earth's store\nBe full for evermore,\nAnd grace of Artemis make women's travail light;\n(strophe 3)\nNo devastating curse of fell disease\nThis city seize;\nNo clamour of the State arouse to war\nAres, from whom afar\nShrinketh the lute, by whom the dances fail-\nAres, the lord of wail.\nSwarm far aloof from Argos' citizens\nAll plague and pestilence,\nAnd may the Archer-God our children spare!\n(antistrophe 3)\nMay Zeus with foison and with fruitfulness\nThe land's each season bless,\nAnd, quickened with Heaven's bounty manifold,\nTeem grazing flock and fold.\nBeside the altars of Heaven's hallowing\nLoud let the minstrels sing,\nAnd from pure lips float forth the harp-led strain in air!\n(strophe 4)\nAnd let the people's voice, the power\nThat sways the State, in danger's hour\nBe wary, wise for all;\nNor honour in dishonour hold,\nBut-ere the voice of war be bold-\nLet them to stranger peoples grant\nFair and unbloody covenant-\nJustice and peace withal;\n(antistrophe 4)\nAnd to the Argive powers divine\nThe sacrifice of laurelled kine,\nBy rite ancestral, pay.\nAmong three words of power and awe,\nStands this, the third, the mighty law-\nYour gods, your fathers deified,\nYe shall adore. Let this abide\nFor ever and for aye.\nDANAUS Dear children, well and wisely have ye prayed;\nI bid you now not shudder, though ye hear\nNew and alarming tidings from your sire.\nFrom this high place beside the suppliants' shrine\nThe bark of our pursuers I behold,\nBy divers tokens recognized too well.\nLo, the spread canvas and the hides that screen\nThe gunwale; lo, the prow, with painted eyes\nThat seem her onward pathway to descry,\nHeeding too well the rudder at the stern\nThat rules her, coming for no friendly end.\nAnd look, the seamen-all too plain their race-\nTheir dark limbs gleam from out their snow-white garb;\nPlain too the other barks, a fleet that comes\nAll swift to aid the purpose of the first,\nThat now, with furled sail and with pulse of oars\nWhich smite the wave together, comes aland.\nBut ye, be calm, and, schooled not scared by fear,\nConfront this chance, be mindful of your trust\nIn these protecting gods. And I will hence,\nAnd champions who shall plead your cause aright\nWill bring unto your side. There come perchance\nHeralds or envoys, eager to lay hand\nAnd drag you captive hence; yet fear them not;\nFoiled shall they be. Yet well it were for you\n(If, ere with aid I come, I tarry long)\nNot by one step this sanctuary to leave.\nFarewell, fear nought: soon shall the hour be born\nWhen he that scorns the gods shall rue his scorn.\nCHORUS (chanting) Ah, but I shudder, father!-ah, even now,\nEven as I speak, the swift-winged ships draw nigh!\n(strophe 1)\nI shudder, I shiver, I perish with fear:\nOverseas though I fled,\nYet nought it avails; my pursuers are near!\nDANAUS Children, take heart; they who decreed to aid\nThy cause will arm for battle, well I ween.\nCHORUS But desperate is Aegyptus' ravening race,\nWith fight unsated; thou too know'st it well.\n(antistrophe 1)\nIn their wrath they o'ertake us; the prow is deep-dark\nIn the which they have sped,\nAnd dark is the bench and the crew of the bark!\nDANAUS Yea but a crew as stout they here shall find,\nAnd arms well steeled beneath a noon-day sun.\nCHORUS Ah yet, O father, leave us not forlorn!\nAlone, a maid is nought, a strengthless arm.\n(strophe 2)\nWith guile they pursue me, with counsel malign,\nAnd unholy their soul;\nAnd as ravens they seize me, unheeding the shrine!\nDANAUS Fair will befall us, children, in this chance,\nIf thus in wrath they wrong the gods and you.\nCHORUS Alas, nor tridents nor the sanctity\nOf shrines will drive them, O my sire, from us!\n(antistrophe 2)\nUnholy and daring and cursed is their ire,\nNor own they control\nOf the gods, but like jackals they glut their desire!\nDANAUS Ay, but Come wolf, flee jackal, saith the saw;\nNor can the flax-plant overbear the corn.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Lustful, accursed, monstrous is their will\nAs of beasts ravening-'ware we of their power\nDANAUS Look you, not swiftly puts a fleet to sea,\nNor swiftly to its moorings; long it is\nOr e'er the saving cables to the shore\nAre borne, and long or e'er the steersmen cry,\nThe good ship swings at anchor-all is well.\nLongest of all, the task to come aland\nWhere haven there is none, when sunset fades\nIn night. To pilot wise, the adage saith,\nNight is a day of wakefulness and pain.\nTherefore no force of weaponed men, as yet,\nScatheless can come ashore, before the bark\nLie at her anchorage securely moored.\nBethink thee therefore, nor in panic leave\nThe shrine of gods whose succour thou hast won.\nI go for aid-men shall not blame me long,\nOld, but with youth at heart and on my tongue. (DANAUS departs as\nthe CHORUS sings in terror.)\nCHORUS (strophe 1)\nO land of hill and dale, O holy land,\nWhat shall befall us? whither shall we flee,\nFrom Apian land to some dark lair of earth?\nO would that in vapour of smoke I might rise to the clouds of the\nsky,\nThat as dust which flits up without wings I might pass and evanish\nand die!\n(antistrophe 1)\nI dare not, I dare not abide: my heart yearns, eager to fly;\nAnd dark is the cast of my thought; I shudder and tremble for fear.\nMy father looked forth and beheld: I die of the sight that draws near.\nAnd for me be the strangling cord, the halter made ready by Fate,\nBefore to my body draws nigh the man of my horror and hate.\nNay, ere I will own him as lord, as handmaid to Hades I go!\n(strophe 2)\nAnd oh, that aloft in the sky, where the dark clouds are frozen to\nsnow,\nA refuge for me might be found, or a mountain-top smooth and too high\nFor the foot of the goat, where the vulture sits lonely, and none\nmay descry\nThe pinnacle veiled in the cloud, the highest and sheerest of all,\nEre to wedlock that rendeth my heart, and love that is loveless,\nI fall!\n(antistrophe 2)\nYea, a prey to the dogs and the birds of the mount will I give me\nto be,-\nFrom wailing and curse and pollution it is death, only death, sets\nme free:\nLet death come upon me before to the ravisher's bed I am thrust;\nWhat champion, what saviour but death can I find, or what refuge from\nlust?\n(strophe 3)\nI will utter my shriek of entreaty, a prayer that shrills up to the\nsky,\nThat calleth the gods to compassion, a tuneful, a pitiful cry,\nThat is loud to invoke the releaser. O father, look down on the fight;\nLook down in thy wrath on the wronger, with eyes that are eager for\nright.\nZeus, thou that art lord of the world, whose kingdom is strong over\nall,\nHave mercy on us! At thine altar for refuge and safety we call.\n(antistrophe 3)\nFor the race of Aegyptus is fierce, with greed and with malice afire;\nThey cry as the questing hounds, they sweep with the speed of desire.\nBut thine is the balance of fate, thou rulest the wavering scale,\nAnd without thee no mortal emprise shall have strength to achieve\nor prevail. (The CHORUS rushes to the altar during the final part\nof the song.) Alack, alack! the ravisher-\nHe leaps from boat to beach, he draweth near!\nAway, thou plunderer accurst!\nDeath seize thee first,\nOr e'er thou touch me-off! God, hear our cry,\nOur maiden agony!\nAh, ah, the touch, the prelude of my shame.\nAlas, my maiden fame!\nO sister, sister, sister, to the altar cling,\nFor he that seizeth me,\nGrim is his wrath and stern, by land as on the sea.\nGuard us, O king! (The HERALD OF AEGYPTUS enters with attendants.\nThe lines in the following scene between the HERALD and the CHORUS\nare sung and are accompanied by a frenzied symbolic dance.)\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Hence to my barge-step swiftly, tarry not.\nCHORUS Alack, he rends-he rends my hair! O wound on wound!\nHelp! my lopped head will fall, my blood gush o'er the ground!\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Aboard, ye cursed-with a new curse, go!\nCHORUS Would God that on the wand'ring brine\nThou and this braggart tongue of thine\nHad sunk beneath the main-\nThy mast and planks, made fast in vain!\nThee would I drive aboard once more,\nA slayer and a dastard, from the shore!\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Be still, thou vain demented soul;\nMy force thy craving shall control.\nAway, aboard! What, clingest to the shrine?\nAway! this city's gods I hold not for divine.\nCHORUS Aid me, ye gods, that never, never\nI may again behold\nThe mighty, the life-giving river,\nNilus, the quickener of field and fold!\nAlack, O sire, unto the shrine I cling-\nShrine of this land from which mine ancient line did spring!\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Shrines, shrines, forsooth!-the ship, the ship\nbe shrine\nAboard, perforce and will-ye nill-ye, go!\nOr e'er from hands of mine\nYe suffer torments worse and blow on blow.\nCHORUS Alack, God grant those hands may strive in vain\nWith the salt-streaming wave,\nWhen 'gainst the wide-blown blasts thy bark shall strain\nTo round Sarpedon's cape, the sandbank's treach'rous grave.\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Shrill ye and shriek unto what gods ye may,\nYe shall not leap from out Aegyptus' bark,\nHow bitterly soe'er ye wail your woe.\nCHORUS Alack, alack my wrong!\nStern is thy voice, thy vaunting loud and strong.\nThy sire, the mighty Nilus, drive thee hence,\nTurning to death and doom thy greedy violence!\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Swift to the vessel of the double prow,\nGo quickly! let none linger, else this hand\nRuthless will hale you by your tresses hence.\nCHORUS Alack, O father! from the shrine\nNot aid but agony is mine.\nAs a spider he creeps and he clutches his prey,\nAnd he hales me away.\nA spectre of darkness, of darkness. Alas and alas! well-a-day!\nO Earth, O my mother! O Zeus, thou king of the earth, and her child!\nTurn back, we pray thee, from us his clamour and threatenings wild!\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Peace! I fear not this country's deities.\nThey fostered not my childhood nor mine age.\nCHORUS Like a snake that is human he comes, he shudders and crawls\nto my side:\nAs an adder that biteth the foot, his clutch on my flesh doth abide.\nO Earth, O my mother! O Zeus, thou king of the earth, and her child!\nTurn back, we pray thee, from us his clamour and threatenings wild!\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Swift each unto the ship; repine no more,\nOr my hand shall not spare to rend your robe.\nCHORUS O chiefs, O leaders, aid me, or I yield!\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Peace! if ye have not ears to hear my words,\nLo, by these tresses must I hale you hence.\nCHORUS Undone we are, O king! all hope is gone.\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Ay, kings enow ye shall behold anon,\nAegyptus' sons-Ye shall not want for kings. (The KING OF ARGOS enters\nwith his retinue.)\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Sirrah, what dost thou? in what arrogance\nDarest thou thus insult Pelasgia's realm?\nDeemest thou this a woman-hearted town?\nThou art too full of thy barbarian scorn\nFor us of Grecian blood, and, erring thus,\nThou dost bewray thyself a fool in all!\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Say thou wherein my deeds transgress my right.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS First, that thou play'st a stranger's part amiss.\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Wherein? I do but search and claim mine own.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS To whom of our guest-champions hast appealed?\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS To Hermes, herald's champion, lord of search.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Yea, to a god-yet dost thou wrong the gods!\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS The gods that rule by Nilus I revere.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Hear I aright? our Argive gods are nought?\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS The prey is mine, unless force rend it from me.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS At thine own peril touch them-'ware, and soon!\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS I hear thy speech, no hospitable word.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS I am no host for sacrilegious hands.\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS I will go tell this to Aegyptus' sons.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Well it I my pride will ponder not thy word.\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Yet, that I have my message clear to say\n(For it behoves that heralds' words be clear,\nBe they or ill or good), how art thou named?\nBy whom despoiled of this sister-band\nOf maidens pass I homeward?-speak and say!\nFor lo, henceforth in Ares' court we stand,\nWho judges not by witness but by war:\nNo pledge of silver now can bring the cause\nTo issue: ere this thing end, there must be\nCorpse piled on corpse and many lives gasped forth.\nTHE KING OF ARGOS What skills it that I tell my name to thee?\nThou and thy mates shall learn it ere the end.\nKnow that if words unstained by violence\nCan change these maidens' choice, then mayest thou,\nWith full consent of theirs, conduct them hence.\nBut thus the city with one voice ordained-\nNo force shall bear away the maiden band.\nFirmly this word upon the temple wall\nIs by a rivet clenched, and shall abide:\nNot upon wax inscribed and delible,\nNor upon parchment sealed and stored away.-\nLo, thou hast heard our free mouths speak their will:\nOut from our presence-tarry not, but go!\nHERALD OF AEGYPTUS Methinks we stand on some new edge of war:\nBe strength and triumph on the young men's side!\nTHE KING OF ARGOS Nay but here also shall ye find young men,\nUnsodden with the juices oozed from grain. (The HERALD OF AEGYPTUS\nand his followers withdraw.) But ye, O maids, with vour attendants\ntrue,\nPass hence with trust into the fenced town,\nRinged with a wide confine of guarding towers.\nTherein are many dwellings for such guests\nAs the State honours; there myself am housed\nWithin a palace neither scant nor strait.\nThere dwell ye, if ye will to lodge at ease\nIn halls well-thronged: yet, if your soul prefer,\nTarry secluded in a separate home.\nChoose ye and cull, from these our proffered gifts,\nWhiche'er is best and sweetest to your will:\nAnd I and all these citizens whose vote\nStands thus decreed, will your protectors be.\nLook not to find elsewhere more loyal guard.\nCHORUS (singing) O godlike chief, God grant my prayer:\nFair blessings on thy proffers fair,\nLord of Pelasgia's race!\nYet, of thy grace, unto our side\nSend thou the man of courage tried,\nOf counsel deep and prudent thought\nBe Danaus to his children brought;\nFor his it is to guide us well\nAnd warn where it behoves to dwell-\nWhat place shall guard and shelter us\nFrom malice and tongues slanderous:\nSwift always are the lips of blame\nA stranger-maiden to defame-\nBut Fortune give us grace!\nTHE KING OF ARGOS A stainless fame, a welcome kind\nFrom all this people shall ye find:\nDwell therefore, damsels, loved of us,\nWithin our walls, as Danaus\nAllots to each, in order due,\nHer dower of attendants true. (DANAUS re-enters. A troop of soldiers\naccompanies him.)\nDANAUS High thanks, my children, unto Argos con,\nAnd to this folk, as to Olympian gods,\nGive offerings meet of sacrifice and wine;\nFor saviours are they in good sooth to you.\nFrom me they heard, and bitter was their wrath,\nHow those your kinsmen strove to work you wrong,\nAnd how of us were thwarted: then to me\nThis company of spearmen did they grant,\nThat honoured I might walk, nor unaware\nDie by some secret thrust and on this land\nBring down the curse of death, that dieth not.\nSuch boons they gave me: it behoves me pay\nA deeper reverence from a soul sincere.\nYe, to the many words of wariness\nSpoken by me your father, add this word,\nThat, tried by time, our unknown company\nBe held for honest: over-swift are tongues\nTo slander strangers, over-light is speech\nTo bring pollution on a stranger's name.\nTherefore I rede you, bring no shame on me\nNow when man's eye beholds your maiden prime.\nLovely is beauty's ripening harvest-field,\nBut ill to guard; and men and beasts, I wot,\nAnd birds and creeping things make prey of it.\nAnd when the fruit is ripe for love, the voice\nOf Aphrodite bruiteth it abroad,\nThe while she guards the yet unripened growth.\nOn the fair richness of a maiden's bloom\nEach passer looks, o'ercome with strong desire,\nWith eyes that waft the wistful dart of love.\nThen be not such our hap, whose livelong toil\nDid make our pinnace plough the mighty main:\nNor bring we shame upon ourselves, and joy\nUnto my foes. Behold, a twofold home-\nOne of the king's and one the people's gift-\nUnbought, 'tis yours to hold,-a gracious boon.\nGo-but remember ye your sire's behest,\nAnd hold your life less dear than chastity.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS The gods above grant that all else be well.\nBut fear not thou, O sire, lest aught befal\nOf ill unto our ripened maidenhood.\nSo long as Heaven have no new ill devised,\nFrom its chaste path my spirit shall not swerve. (The members of\nthe CHORUS divide into two groups, to sing the final choral lyric\nresponsively.)\nSEMI-CHORUS (strophe 1)\nPass and adore ye the Blessed, the gods of the city who dwell\nAround Erasinus, the gush of the swift immemorial tide.\nSEMI-CHORUS Chant ye, O maidens; aloud let the praise of Pelasgia\nswell;\nHymn we no longer the shores where Nilus to ocean doth glide.\nSEMI-CHORUS (antistrophe 1)\nSing we the bounteous streams that ripple and gush through the city;\nQuickening flow they and fertile, the soft new life of the plain.\nSEMI-CHORUS Artemis, maiden most pure, look on us with grace and\nwith pity-\nSave us from forced embraces: such love hath no crown but a pain.\nSEMI-CHORUS (strophe 2)\nYet not in scorn we chant, but in honour of Aphrodite;\nShe truly and Hera alone have power with Zeus and control.\nHoly the deeds of her rite, her craft is secret and mighty,\nAnd high is her honour on earth, and subtle her sway of the soul.\nSEMI-CHORUS Yea, and her child is Desire: in the train of his mother\nhe goeth-\nYea and Persuasion soft-lipped, whom none can deny or repel:\nCometh Harmonia too, on whom Aphrodite bestoweth\nThe whispering parley, the paths of the rapture that lovers love well.\nSEMI-CHORUS (antistrophe 2)\nAh, but I tremble and quake lest again they should sail to reclaim!\nAlas for the sorrow to come, the blood and the carnage of war.\nAh, by whose will was it done that o'er the wide ocean they came,\nGuided by favouring winds, and wafted by sail and by oar?\nSEMI-CHORUS Peace! for what Fate hath ordained will surely not tarry\nbut come;\nWide is the counsel of Zeus, by no man escaped or withstood:\nOnly I pray that whate'er, in the end, of this wedlock he doom,\nWe, as many a maiden of old, may win from the ill to the good.\nSEMI-CHORUS (strophe 3)\nGreat Zeus, this wedlock turn from me-\nMe from the kinsman bridegroom guard!\nSEMI-CHORUS Come what come may, 'tis Fate's decree.\nSEMI-CHORUS Soft is thy word-the doom is hard.\nSEMI-CHORUS Thou know'st not what the Fates provide.\nSEMI-CHORUS (antistrophe 3)\nHow should I scan Zeus' mighty will,\nThe depth of counsel undescried?\nSEMI-CHORUS Pray thou no word of omen ill.\nSEMI-CHORUS What timely warning wouldst thou teach?\nSEMI-CHORUS Beware, nor slight the gods in speech.\nSEMI-CHORUS (strophe 4)\nZeus, hold from my body the wedlock detested, the bridegroom abhorred!\nIt was thou, it was thou didst release\nMine ancestress Io from sorrow: thine healing it was that restored,\nThe touch of thine hand gave her peace.\nSEMI-CHORUS (antistrophe 4)\nBe thy will for the cause of the maidens! of two ills, the lesser\nI pray-\nThe exile that leaveth me pure.\nMay thy justice have heed to my cause, my prayers to thy mercy find\nway!\nFor the hands of thy saving are sure.\nTHE END","title":"The Suppliants","type":"page"}