{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/eurip/androm.htm","path":"cla/eurip/androm.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/eurip/androm.htm","text":"Andromache\nBy Euripides\nTranslated by E. P. Coleridge\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nDramatis Personae\nANDROMACHE\nMAID OF ANDROMACHE\nCHORUS OF PHTHIAN WOMEN\nHERMIONE, daughter of MENELAUS and wife of Neoptolemus\nMENELAUS, King of Sparta\nMOLOSSUS, son of ANDROMACHE and Neoptolemus\nPELEUS, father of Achilles\nNURSE OF HERMIONE\nORESTES, son of Agamemnon\nMESSENGER\nTHETIS, the goddess, wife of PELEUS\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nBefore the temple of THETIS in Thessaly. ANDROMACHE, dressed as a\nsuppliant, is clinging to the altar in front of the temple. The palace\nof Achilles is nearby.\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nANDROMACHE O city of Thebes, glory of Asia, whence on a day I came\nto Priam's princely home with many a rich and costly thing in my dower,\naffianced unto Hector to be the mother of his children, I Andromache,\nenvied name in days of yore, but now of all women that have been or\nyet shall be the most unfortunate; for I have lived to see my husband\nHector slain by Achilles, and the babe Astyanax, whom I bore my lord,\nhurled from the towering battlements, when the Hellenes sacked our\nTrojan home; and I myself am come to Hellas as a slave, though I was\nesteemed a daughter of a race most free, given to Neoptolemus that\nisland-prince, and set apart for him as his special prize from the\nspoils of Troy. And here I dwell upon the boundaries of Phthia and\nPharsalia's town, where Thetis erst, the goddess of the sea, abode\nwith Peleus apart from the world, avoiding the throng of men; wherefore\nthe folk of Thessaly call it the sacred place of Thetis, in honour\nof the goddess's marriage. Here dwells the son of Achilles and suffers\nPeleus still to rule Pharsalia, not wishing to assume the sceptre\nwhile the old man lives. Within these halls have borne a boy to the\nson of Achilles, my master. Now aforetime for all my misery I ever\nhad a hope to lead me on, that, if my child were safe, I might find\nsome help and protection from my woes; but since my lord in scorn\nof his bondmaid's charms hath wedded that Spartan Hermione, I am tormented\nby her most cruelly; for she saith that I by secret enchantment am\nmaking her barren and distasteful to her husband, and that I design\nto take her place in this house, ousting her the rightful mistress\nby force; whereas I at first submitted against my will and now have\nresigned my place; be almighty Zeus my witness that it was not of\nmy own free will I became her rival!\nBut I cannot convince her, and she longs to kill me, and her father\nMenelaus is an accomplice in this. E'en now is he within, arrived\nfrom Sparta for this very purpose, while I in terror am come to take\nup position here in the shrine of Thetis adjoining the house, if haply\nit may save me from death; for Peleus and his descendants hold it\nin honour as symbol of his marriage with the Nereid. My only son am\nI secretly conveying to a neighbour's house in fear for his life.\nFor his sire stands not by my side to lend his aid and cannot avail\nhis child at all, being absent in the land of Delphi, where he is\noffering recompense to Loxias for the madness he committed, when on\na day he went to Pytho and demanded of Phoebus satisfaction for his\nfather's death, if haply his prayer might avert those past sins and\nwin for him the god's goodwill hereafter. (The MAID OF ANDROMACHE\nenters.)\nMAID Mistress mine, be sure I do not hesitate to call thee by that\nname, seeing that I thought it thy right in thine own house also,\nwhen we dwelt in Troy-land; as I was ever thy friend and thy husband's\nwhile yet he was alive, so now have I come with strange tidings, in\nterror lest any of our masters learn hereof but still out of pity\nfor thee; for Menelaus and his daughter are forming dire plots against\nthee, whereof thou must beware.\nANDROMACHE Ah! kind companion of my bondage, for such thou art to\nher, who, erst thy queen, is now sunk in misery; what are they doing?\nWhat new schemes are they devising in their eagerness to take away\nmy wretched life?\nMAID Alas! poor lady, they intend to slay thy son, whom thou hast\nprivily conveyed from out the house.\nANDROMACHE Ah me! Has she heard that my babe was put out of her reach?\nWho told her? Woe is me! how utterly undone!\nMAID I know not, but thus much of their schemes I heard myself; and\nMenelaus has left the house to fetch him.\nANDROMACHE Then am I lost; ah, my child! those vultures twain will\ntake and slay thee; while he who is called thy father lingers still\nin Delphi.\nMAID True, for had he been here thou wouldst not have fared so hardly,\nam sure; but, as it is, thou art friendless.\nANDROMACHE Have no tidings come that Peleus may arrive?\nMAID He is too old to help thee if he came.\nANDROMACHE And yet I sent for him more than once.\nMAID Surely thou dost not suppose that any of thy messengers heed\nthee?\nANDROMACHE Why should they? Wilt thou then go for me?\nMAID How shall I explain my long absence from the house?\nANDROMACHE Thou art a woman; thou canst invent a hundred ways.\nMAID There is a risk, for Hermione keeps no careless guard.\nANDROMACHE Dost look to that? Thou art disowning thy friends in distress.\nMAID Not so; never taunt me with that. I will go, for of a truth\na woman and a slave is not of much account, e'en if aught befall me.\n(The MAID withdraws.)\nANDROMACHE Go then, while I will tell to heaven the lengthy tale\nof lamentation, mourning, and weeping, that has ever been my hard\nlot; for 'tis woman's way to delight in present misfortunes even to\nkeeping them always on her tongue and lips. But I have many reasons,\nnot merely one for tears,-my city's fall, my Hector's death, the hardness\nof the lot to which I am bound, since I fell on slavery's evil days\nundeservedly. 'Tis never right to call a son of man happy, till thou\nhast seen his end, to judge from the way he passes it how he will\ndescend to that other world. (She begins to chant.) 'Twas no bride\nParis took with him to the towers of Ilium, but curse to his bed when\nhe brought Helen to her bower. For her sake, Troy, did eager warriors,\nsailing from Hellas in a thousand ships, capture and make thee a prey\nto fire and sword; and the son of sea-born Thetis mounted on his chariot\ndragged my husband Hector round the walls, ah woe is me! while I was\nhurried from my chamber to the beach, with slavery's hateful pall\nupon me. And many tear I shed as I left my city, my bridal bower,\nand my husband in the dust. Woe, woe is me! why should I prolong my\nlife, to serve Hermione? Her cruelty it is that drives me hither to\nthe image of the goddess to throw my suppliant arms about it, melting\nto tears as doth a spring that gushes from the rock. (The CHORUS\nOF PHTHIAN WOMEN enters.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nLady, thus keeping thy weary station without pause upon the floor\nof Thetis' shrine, Phthian though I am, to thee a daughter of Asia\nI come, to see if I can devise some remedy for these perplexing troubles,\nwhich have involved thee and Hermione in fell discord, because to\nthy sorrow thou sharest with her the love of Achilles' son.\n(antistrophe 1)\nRecognize thy position, weigh the present evil into the which thou\nart come. Thou art a Trojan captive; thy rival is thy mistress, a\ntrue-born daughter of Sparta. Leave then this home of sacrifice, the\nshrine of our sea-goddess. How can it avail thee to waste thy comeliness\nand disfigure it by weeping by reason of a mistress's harsh usage?\nMight will prevail against thee; why vainly toil in thy feebleness?\n(strophe 2)\nCome, quit the bright sanctuary of the Nereid divine. Recognize that\nthou art in bondage on a foreign soil, in a strange city, where thou\nseest none of all thy friends, luckless lady, cast on evil days.\n(antistrophe 2)\nYea, I did pity thee most truly, Trojan dame, when thou camest to\nthis house; but from fear of my mistress I hold my peace, albeit I\nsympathize with thee, lest she, whom Zeus's daughter bore, discover\nmy good will toward thee. (HERMIONE enters, in complete royal regalia.)\nHERMIONE With a crown of golden workmanship upon my head and about\nmy body this embroidered robe am I come hither; no presents these\nI wear from the palace of Achilles or Peleus, but gifts my father\nMenelaus gave me together with a sumptuous dower from Sparta in Laconia,\nto insure me freedom of speech. Such is my answer to you; (to the\nCHORUS) but as for thee, slave and captive, thou wouldst fain oust\nme and secure this palace for thyself, and thanks to thy enchantment\nI am hated by my husband; thou it is that hast made my womb barren\nand cheated my hopes; for Asia's daughters have clever heads for such\nvillainy; yet will I check thee therefrom, nor shall this temple of\nthe Nereid avail thee aught, no! neither its altar or shrine, but\nthou shalt die. But if or god or man should haply wish to save thee,\nthou must atone for thy proud thoughts of happier days now past by\nhumbling thyself and crouching prostrate at my knees, by sweeping\nout my halls, and by learning, as thou sprinklest water from a golden\newer, where thou now art. Here is no Hector, no Priam with his gold,\nbut a city of Hellas. Yet thou, miserable woman, hast gone so far\nin wantonness that thou canst lay thee down with the son of the very\nman that slew thy husband, and bear children to the murderer. Such\nis all the race of barbarians; father and daughter, mother and son,\nsister and brother mate together; the nearest and dearest stain their\npath with each other's blood, and no law restrains such horrors. Bring\nnot these crimes amongst us, for here we count it shame that one man\nshould have the control of two wives, and men are content to turn\nto one lawful love, that is, all who care to live an honourable life.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Women are by nature somewhat jealous, and do\never show the keenest hate to rivals in their love.\nANDROMACHE Ah! well-a-day! Youth is a bane to mortals, in every case,\nthat is, where a man embraces injustice in his early days. Now I am\nafraid that my being a slave will prevent thee listening to me in\nspite of many a just plea, or if I win my case, I fear I may be damaged\non this very ground, for the high and mighty cannot brook refuting\narguments from their inferiors; still I will not be convicted of betraying\nmy own cause. Tell me, proud young wife, what assurance can make me\nconfident of wresting from thee thy lawful lord? Is it that Laconia's\ncapital yields to Phrygia? is it that my fortune outstrips thine?\nor that in me thou seest a free woman? Am I so elated by my youth,\nmy full healthy figure, the extent of my city, the number of my friends\nthat I wish to supplant thee in thy home? Is my purpose to take thy\nplace and rear myself a race of slaves, mere appendages to my misery?\nor, supposing thou bear no children, will any one endure that sons\nof mine should rule o'er Phthia? Ah no! there is the love that Hellas\nbears me, both for Hector's sake and for my own humble rank forsooth,\nthat never knew a queen's estate in Troy. 'Tis not my sorcery that\nmakes thy husband hate thee, nay, but thy own failure to prove thyself\nhis help-meet. Herein lies love's only charm; 'tis not beauty, lady,\nbut virtuous acts that win our husbands' hearts. And though it gall\nthee to be told so, albeit thy city in Laconia is no doubt mighty\nfact, yet thou findest no place for his Scyros, displaying wealth\n'midst poverty and setting Menelaus above Achilles: and that is what\nalienates thy lord. Take heed; for a woman, though bestowed upon worthless\nhusband, must be with him content, and ne'er advance presumptuous\nclaims. Suppose thou hadst wedded a prince of Thrace, the land of\nflood and melting snow, where one lord shares his affections with\na host of wives, wouldst thou have slain them? If so, thou wouldst\nhave set a stigma of insatiate lust on all our sex. A shameful charge!\nAnd yet herein we suffer more than men, though we make a good stand\nagainst it. Ah! my dear lord Hector, for thy sake would I e'en brook\na rival, if ever Cypris led thee astray, and oft in days gone by I\nheld thy bastard babes to my own breast, to spare thee any cause for\ngrief. By this course I bound my husband to me by virtue's chains,\nwhereas thou wilt never so much as let the drops of dew from heaven\nabove settle on thy lord, in thy jealous fear. Oh! seek not to surpass\nthy mother in hankering after men, for 'tis well that all wise children\nshould avoid the habits of such evil mothers.\nLEADER Mistress mine, be persuaded to come to terms with her, as\nfar as readily comes within thy power.\nHERMIONE Why this haughty tone, this bandying of words, as if, forsooth,\nthou, not I, wert the virtuous wife?\nANDROMACHE Thy present claims at any rate give thee small title thereto.\nHERMIONE Woman, may my bosom never harbour such ideas as thine!\nANDROMACHE Thou art young to speak on such a theme as this.\nHERMIONE As for thee, thou dost not speak thereof, but, as thou canst,\ndost put it into action against me.\nANDROMACHE Canst thou not conceal thy pangs of jealousy?\nHERMIONE What! doth not every woman put this first of all?\nANDROMACHE Yes, if her experiences are happy; otherwise, there is\nno honour in speaking of them.\nHERMIONE Barbarians' laws are not a standard for our city.\nANDROMACHE Alike in Asia and in Hellas infamy attends base actions.\nHERMIONE Clever, clever quibbler! yet die thou must and shalt.\nANDROMACHE Dost see the image of Thetis with her eye upon thee?\nHERMIONE A bitter foe to thy country because of the death of Achilles.\nANDROMACHE 'Twas not I that slew him, but Helen that mother of thine.\nHERMIONE Pray, is it thy intention to probe my wounds yet deeper?\nANDROMACHE Behold, I am dumb, my lips are closed.\nHERMIONE Tell me that which was my only reason for coming hither.\nANDROMACHE No! all I tell thee is, thou hast less wisdom than thou\nneedest.\nHERMIONE Wilt thou leave these hallowed precincts of the sea-goddess?\nANDROMACHE Yes, if I am not to die for it; otherwise, I never will.\nHERMIONE Since that is thy resolve, I shall not even wait my lord's\nreturn.\nANDROMACHE Nor yet will I, at any rate ere that, surrender to thee.\nHERMIONE I will bring fire to bear on thee, and pay no heed to thy\nentreaties.\nANDROMACHE Kindle thy blaze then; the gods will witness it.\nHERMIONE And make thy flesh to writhe by cruel wounds.\nANDROMACHE Begin thy butchery, stain the altar of the goddess with\nblood, for she will visit thy iniquity.\nHERMIONE Barbarian creature, hardened in impudence, wilt thou brave\ndeath itself? Still will I find speedy means to make these quit this\nseat of thy free will; such a bait have I to lure thee with. But I\nwill hide my meaning, which the event itself shall soon declare. Yes,\nkeep thy seat, for I will make thee rise, though molten lead is holding\nthee there, before Achilles' son, thy trusted champion, arrive. (HERMIONE\ndeparts.)\nANDROMACHE My trusted champion, yes! how strange it is, that though\nsome god hath devised cures for mortals against the venom of reptiles,\nno man ever yet hath discovered aught to cure a woman's venom, which\nis far worse than viper's sting or scorching flame; so terrible a\ncurse are we to mankind.\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nAh! what sorrows did the son of Zeus and Maia herald, in the day\nhe came to Ida's glen, guiding that fair young trio of goddesses,\nall girded for the fray in bitter rivalry about their beauty, to the\nshepherd's fold where dwelt the youthful herdsman all alone by the\nhearth of his lonely hut.\n(antistrophe 1)\nSoon as they reached the wooded glen, in gushing mountain springs\nthey bathed their dazzling skin, then sought the son of Priam, comparing\ntheir rival charms in more than rancorous phrase. But Cypris won the\nday by her deceitful promises, sweet-sounding words, but fraught with\nruthless overthrow to Phrygia's hapless town and Ilium's towers.\n(strophe 2)\nWould God his mother had smitten him a cruel death-blow on the head\nbefore he made his home on Ida's slopes, in the hour Cassandra, standing\nby the holy bay-tree, cried out, \"Slay him, for he will bring most\ngrievous bane on Priam's town.\" To every prince she went, to every\nelder sued for the babe's destruction.\n(antistrophe 2)\nAh! had they listened, Ilium's daughters neer had felt the yoke of\nslavery, and thou, lady, hadst been established in the royal palace;\nand Hellas had been freed of all the anguish she suffered during those\nten long years her sons went wandering, spear in hand, around the\nwalls of Troy; brides had never been left desolate, nor hoary fathers\nchildless. (MENELAUS and his retinue enter. He is leading MOLOSSUS\nby the hand.)\nMENELAUS Behold I bring thy son with me, whom thou didst steal away\nto a neighbour's house without my daughter's knowledge. Thou wert\nso sure this image of the goddess would protect thee and those who\nhid him, but thou hast not proved clever enough for Menelaus. And\nso if thou refuse to leave thy station here, he shall be slain instead\nof thee. Wherefore weigh it well: wilt die thyself, or see him slain\nfor the sin whereof thou art guilty against me and my daughter?\nANDROMACHE O fame, fame! full many a man ere now of no account hast\nthou to high estate exalted. Those, indeed, who truly have a fair\nrepute, I count blest; but those who get it by false pretences, I\nwill never allow have aught but the accidental appearance of wisdom.\nThou for instance, caitiff that thou art, didst thou ever wrest Troy\nfrom Priam with thy picked troops of Hellenes? thou that hast raised\nsuch a storm, at the word of thy daughter, a mere child, and hast\nentered the lists with a poor captive; unworthy I count thee of Troy's\ncapture, and Troy still more disgraced by thy victory. Those who only\nin appearance are men of sense make an outward show, but inwardly\nresemble the common herd, save it be in wealth, which is their chiefest\nstrength.\nCome now, Menelaus, let us carry through this argument. Suppose I\nam slain by thy daughter, and she work her will on me, yet can she\nnever escape the pollution of murder, and public opinion will make\nthee too an accomplice in this deed of blood, for thy share in the\nbusiness must needs implicate thee. But even supposing I escape death\nmyself, will ye kill my child? Even then, how will his father brook\nthe murder of his child? Troy has no such coward's tale to tell of\nhim; nay, he will follow duty's call; his actions will prove him a\nworthy scion of Peleus and Achilles. Thy daughter will be thrust forth\nfrom his house; and what wilt thou say when seeking to betroth her\nto another? wilt say her virtue made her leave a worthless lord? Nay,\nthat will be false. Who then will wed her? wilt thou keep her without\na husband in thy halls, grown grey in widowhood? Unhappy wretch! dost\nnot see the flood-gates of trouble opening wide for thee? How many\na wrong against a wife wouldst thou prefer thy daughter to have found\nto suffering what I now describe? We ought not on trifling grounds\nto promote great ills; nor should men, if we women are so deadly a\ncurse, bring their nature down to our level. No! if, as thy daughter\nasserts, I am practising sorcery against her and making her barren,\nright willingly will I, without any crouching at altars, submit in\nmy own person to the penalty that lies in her husband's hands, seeing\nthat I am no less chargeable with injuring him if I make him childless.\nThis is my case; but for thee, there is one thing I fear in thy disposition;\nit was a quarrel for a woman that really induced thee to destroy poor\nIlium's town.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Thou hast said too much for a woman speaking\nto men; that discretion hath shot away its last shaft from thy soul's\nquiver.\nMENELAUS Women, these are petty matters, unworthy, as thou sayest,\nof my despotic sway, unworthy too of Hellas. Yet mark this well; his\nspecial fancy of the hour is of more moment to a man than Troy's capture.\nI then have set myself to help my daughter because I consider her\nloss of wife's rights most grave; for whatever else a woman suffers\nis second to this; if she loses her husband's love she loses her life\ntherewith. Now, as it is right Neoptolemus should rule my slaves,\nso my friends and I should have control of his; for friends, if they\nbe really friends, keep nothing to themselves, but have all in common.\nSo if I wait for the absent instead of making the best arrangement\nI can at once of my affairs, I show weakness, not wisdom. Arise then,\nleave the goddess's shrine, for by thy death this child escapeth his,\nwhereas, if thou refuse to die, I will slay him; for one of you twain\nmust perish.\nANDROMACHE Ah me! 'tis a bitter lot thou art offering about my life;\nwhether I take it or not I am equally unfortunate. Attend to me, thou\nwho for a trifling cause art committing an awful crime. Why art thou\nbent on slaying me? What reason hast thou? What city have I betrayed?\nWhich of thy children was ever slain by me? What house have I fired?\nI was forced to be my master's concubine; and spite of that wilt thou\nslay me, not him who is to blame, passing by the cause and hurrying\nto the inevitable result? Ah me! my sorrows! Woe for my hapless country!\nHow cruel my fate! Why had I to be a mother too and take upon me a\ndouble load of suffering? Yet why do I mourn the past, and o'er the\npresent never shed a tear or compute its griefs? I that saw Hector\nbutchered and dragged behind the chariot, and Ilium, piteous sight!\none sheet of flame, while I was baled away by the hair of my head\nto the Argive ships in slavery, and on my arrival in Phthia was given\nto Hector's murderer as his mistress. What pleasure then has life\nfor me? Whither am I to turn my gaze? to the present or the past?\nMy babe alone was left me, the light of my life, and him these ministers\nof death would slay. No! they shall not, if my poor life can save\nhim; for if he be saved, hope in him lives on, while to me 'twere\nshame to refuse to die for my son. Lo! here I leave the altar and\ngive myself into your hands, to cut or stab, to bind or hang. Ah!\nmy child, to Hades now thy mother passes to save thy dear life. Yet\nif thou escape thy doom, remember me, my sufferings and my death,\nand tell thy father how I fared, with fond caress and streaming eye\nand arms thrown round his neck. Ah! yes, his children are to every\nman as his own soul; and whoso sneers at this through inexperience,\nthough he suffers less anguish, yet tastes the bitter in his cup of\nbliss.\nLEADER Thy tale with pity fills me; for every man alike, stranger\nthough he be, feels pity for another's distress. Menelaus, 'tis thy\nduty to reconcile thy daughter and this captive, giving her a respite\nfrom sorrow.\nMENELAUS Ho! sirrahs, seize this woman (His attendants swiftly carry\nout the order.) ; hold her fast; for 'tis no welcome story she will\nhave to hear. It was to make thee leave the holy altar of the goddess\nthat I held thy child's death before thy eyes, and so induced thee\nto give thyself up to me to die. So stands thy case, be well assured;\nbut as for this child, my daughter shall decide whether she will slay\nhim or no. Get thee hence into the house, and there learn to bridle\nthy insolence in speaking to the free, slave that thou art.\nANDROMACHE Alas! thou hast by treachery beguiled me; I was deceived.\nMENELAUS Proclaim it to the world; I do not deny it.\nANDROMACHE Is this counted cleverness amongst you who dwell by the\nEurotas?\nMENELAUS Yes, and amongst Trojans too, that those who suffer should\nretaliate.\nANDROMACHE Thinkest thou God's hand is shortened, and that thou wilt\nnot be punished?\nMENELAUS Whene'er that comes, I am ready to bear it. But thy life\nwill I have.\nANDROMACHE Wilt likewise slay this tender chick, whom thou hast snatched\nfrom 'neath my wing?\nMENELAUS Not I, but I will give him to my daughter to slay if she\nwill.\nANDROMACHE Ah me! why not begin my mourning then for thee, my child?\nMENELAUS Of a truth 'tis no very sure hope that he has left.\nANDROMACHE O citizens of Sparta, the bane of all the race of men,\nschemers of guile, and masters in lying, devisers of evil plots, with\ncrooked minds and tortuous methods and ne'er one honest thought, 'tis\nwrong that ye should thrive in Hellas. What crime is wanting in your\nlist? How rife is murder with you! How covetous ye are! One word upon\nyour lips, another in your heart, this is what men always find with\nyou. Perdition catch ye! Still death is not so grievous, as thou thinkest,\nto me. No! for my life ended in the day that hapless Troy was destroyed\nwith my lord, that glorious warrior, whose spear oft made a coward\nlike thee quit the field and seek thy ship. But now against a woman\nhast thou displayed the terrors of thy panoply, my would-be murderer.\nStrike then! for this my tongue shall never flatter thee or that daughter\nof thine. For though thou wert of great account in Sparta, why so\nwas I in Troy. And if I am now in sorry plight, presume not thou on\nthis; thou too mayst be so yet. (MENELAUS and his guards lead ANDROMACHE\nout.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nNever, oh! never will I commend rival wives or sons of different\nmothers, a cause of strife, of bitterness, and grief in every house.\nwould have a husband content with one wife whose rights he shareth\nwith no other.\n(antistrophe 1)\nNot even in states is dual monarchy better to bear than undivided\nrule; it only doubles burdens and causes faction amongst the citizens.\nOften too will the Muse sow strife 'twixt rivals in the art of minstrelsy.\n(strophe 2)\nAgain, when strong winds are drifting mariners, the divided counsel\nof the wise does not best avail for steering, and their collective\nwisdom has less weight than the inferior mind of the single man who\nhas sole authority; for this is the essence of power alike in house\nand state, whene'er men care to find the proper moment.\n(antistrophe 2)\nThis Spartan, the daughter of the great chief Menelaus, proves this;\nfor she hath kindled hot fury against a rival, and is bent on slaying\nthe hapless Trojan maid and her child to further her bitter quarrel.\n'Tis a murder gods and laws and kindness all forbid. Ah! lady, retribution\nfor this deed will yet visit thee.\nBut lo! before the house I see those two united souls, condemned to\ndie. Alas! for thee, poor lady, and for thee, unhappy child, who art\ndying on account of thy mother's marriage, though thou hast no share\ntherein and canst not be blamed by the royal house. (ANDROMACHE enters,\nher arms bound. Her son clings to her. MENELAUS and the guards follow,\nintent on accomplishing the murder. The following lines are chanted\nresponsively.)\nANDROMACHE Behold me journeying on the downward path, my hands so\ntightly bound with cords that they bleed.\nMOLOSSUS O mother, mother mine! I too share thy downward path, nestling\n'neath thy wing.\nANDROMACHE A cruel sacrifice! ye rulers of Phthia!\nMOLOSSUS Come, father! succour those thou lovest.\nANDROMACHE Rest there, my babe, my darling! on thy mother's bosom,\ne'en in death and in the grave.\nMOLOSSUS Ah, woe is me! what will become of me and thee too, mother\nmine?\nMENELAUS Away, to the world below! from hostile towers ye came, the\npair of you; two different causes necessitate your deaths; my sentence\ntakes away thy life, and my daughter Hermione's requires his; for\nit would be the height of folly to leave our foemen's sons, when we\nmight kill them and remove the danger from our house.\nANDROMACHE O husband mine! I would I had thy strong arm and spear\nto aid me, son of Priam.\nMOLOSSUS Ah, woe is me! what spell can I now find to turn death's\nstroke aside?\nANDROMACHE Embrace thy master's knees, my child, and pray to him.\nMOLOSSUS Spare, O spare my life, kind master!\nANDROMACHE Mine eyes are wet with tears, which trickle down my cheeks,\nas doth a sunless spring from a smooth rock. Ah me!\nMOLOSSUS What remedy, alas! can I provide me 'gainst my ills?\nMENELAUS Why fall at my knees in supplication? hard as the rock and\ndeaf as the wave am I. My own friends have I helped, but for thee\nhave no tie of affection; for verily it cost me a great part of my\nlife to capture Troy and thy mother; so thou shalt reap the fruit\nthereof and into Hades' halls descend.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Behold! I see Peleus drawing nigh; with aged\nstep he hasteth hither. (PELEUS enters with an attendant.)\nPELEUS (calling out as he comes in sight) What means this? I ask\nyou and your executioner; why is the palace in an uproar? give a reason;\nwhat mean your lawless machinations? Menelaus, hold thy hand. Seek\nnot to outrun justice. (To his attendant) Forward! faster, faster!\nfor this matter, methinks, admits of no delay; now if ever would I\nfain resume the vigour of my youth. First however will breathe new\nlife into this captive, being to her as the breeze that blows a ship\nbefore the wind. Tell me, by what right have they pinioned thine arms\nand are dragging thee and thy child away? Like a ewe with her lamb\nart thou led to the slaughter, while I and thy lord were far away.\nANDROMACHE Behold them that are haling me and my child to death,\ne'en as thou seest, aged prince. Why should I tell thee? For not by\none urgent summons alone but by countless messengers have I sent for\nthee. No doubt thou knowest by hearsay of the strife in this house\nwith this man's daughter, and the reason of my ruin. So now they have\ntorn and are dragging me from the altar of Thetis, the goddess of\nthy chiefest adoration and the mother of thy gallant son, without\nany proper trial, yea, and without waiting for my absent master; because,\nforsooth, they knew my defencelessness and my child's, whom they mean\nto slay with me his hapless mother, though he has done no harm. But\nto thee, O sire, I make my supplication, prostrate at thy knees, though\nmy hand cannot touch thy friendly beard; save me, I adjure thee, reverend\nsir, or to thy shame and my sorrow shall we be slain.\nPELEUS Loose her bonds, I say, ere some one rue it; untie her folded\nhands.\nMENELAUS I forbid it, for besides being a match for thee, I have\na far better right to her.\nPELEUS What! art thou come hither to set my house in order? Art not\ncontent with ruling thy Spartans?\nMENELAUS She is my captive; I took her from Troy.\nPELEUS Aye, but my son's son received her as his prize.\nMENELAUS Is not all I have his, and all his mine?\nPELEUS For good, but not evil ends; and surely not for murderous\nviolence.\nMENELAUS Never shalt thou wrest her from my grasp.\nPELEUS With this good staff I'll stain thy head with blood!\nMENELAUS Just touch me and see! Approach one step!\nPELEUS What! shalt thou rank with men? chief of cowards, son of cowards!\nWhat right hast thou to any place 'mongst men? Thou who didst let\nPhrygian rob thee of thy wife, leaving thy home without bolt or guard,\nas if forsooth the cursed woman thou hadst there was a model of virtue.\nNo! a Spartan maid could not be chaste, e'en if she would, who leaves\nher home and bares her limbs and lets her robe float free, to share\nwith youths their races and their sports,-customs I cannot away with.\nIs it any wonder then that ye fail to educate your women in virtue?\nHelen might have asked thee this, seeing that she said goodbye to\nthy affection and tripped off with her young gallant to a foreign\nland. And yet for her sake thou didst marshal all the hosts of Hellas\nand lead them to Ilium, whereas thou shouldst have shown thy loathing\nfor her by refusing to stir a spear, once thou hadst found her false;\nyea, thou shouldst have let her stay there, and even paid a price\nto save ever having her back again. But that was not at all the way\nthy thoughts were turned; wherefore many a brave life hast thou ended,\nand many an aged mother hast thou left childless in her home, and\ngrey-haired sires of gallant sons hast reft. Of that sad band am I\nmember, seeing in thee Achilles' murderer like a malignant fiend;\nfor thou and thou alone hast returned from Troy without a scratch,\nbringing back thy splendid weapons in their splendid cases just as\nthey went. As for me, I ever told that amorous boy to form no alliance\nwith thee nor take unto his home an evil mother's child; for daughters\nbear the marks of their mothers' ill-repute into their new homes.\nWherefore, ye wooers, take heed to this my warning: \"Choose the daughter\nof a good mother.\" And more than this, with what wanton insult didst\nthou treat thy brother, bidding him sacrifice his daughter in his\nsimpleness! So fearful wast thou of losing thy worthless wife. Then\nafter capturing Troy,-for thither too will I accompany thee,-thou\ndidst not slay that woman, when she was in thy power; but as soon\nas thine eyes caught sight of her breast, thy sword was dropped and\nthou didst take her kisses, fondling the shameless traitress, too\nweak to stem thy hot desire, thou caitiff wretch! Yet spite of all\nthou art the man to come and work havoc in my grandson's halls when\nhe is absent, seeking to slay with all indignity a poor weak woman\nand her babe: but that babe shall one day make thee and thy daughter\nin thy home rue it, e'en though his birth be trebly base. Yea, for\noft ere now hath seed, sown on barren soil, prevailed o'er rich deep\ntilth, and many bastard has proved a better man than children better\nborn. Take thy daughter hence with thee! Far better is it for mortals\nto have a poor honest man either as married kin or friend than a wealthy\nknave; but as for thee, thou art a thing of naught.\nLEADER The tongue from trifling causes contrives to breed great strife\n'mongst men; wherefore are the wise most careful not to bring about\na quarrel with their friends.\nMENELAUS Why, pray, should one call these old men wise, or those\nwho once had a reputation in Hellas for being so? when thou, the great\nPeleus, son of famous father, kin to me through marriage, employest\nlanguage disgraceful to thyself and abusive of me because of a barbarian\nwoman, though thou shouldst have banished her far beyond the streams\nof Nile or Phasis, and ever encouraged me; seeing that she comes from\nAsia's continent where fell so many of the sons of Hellas, victims\nto the spear; and likewise because she shared in the spilling of thy\nson's blood; for Paris who slew thy son Achilles, was brother to Hector,\nwhose wife she was. And dost thou enter the same abode with her, and\ndeign to let her share thy board, and suffer her to rear her brood\nof vipers in thy house? But I, after all this foresight for thee,\nold man, and myself, am to have her torn from my clutches for wishing\nto slay her. Yet come now, for 'tis no disgrace to argue; suppose\nmy daughter has no child, while this woman's sons grow up, wilt thou\nset them up to rule the land of Phthia, barbarians born and bred to\nlord it over Hellenes? Am I then so void of sense because I hate injustice,\nand thou so full of cleverness? Consider yet another point; say thou\nhadst given a daughter of thine to some citizen, and hadst then seen\nher thus treated, wouldst thou have sat looking on in silence? I trow\nnot. Dost thou then for a foreigner rail thus at thy nearest friends?\nAgain, thou mayst say, husband and wife have an equally strong case\nif she is wronged by him, and similarly if he find her guilty of indiscretion\nin his house; yet while he has ample powers in his own hands, she\ndepends on parents and friends for her case. Surely then I am right\nin helping my own kin! Thou art in thy dotage; for thou wilt do me\nmore good by speaking of my generalship than by concealing it. Helen's\ntrouble was not of her own choosing, but sent by heaven, and it proved\na great benefit to Hellas; her sons, till then untried in war or arms,\nturned to deeds of prowess, and it is experience which teaches man\nall he knows. I showed my wisdom in refraining from slaying my wife,\ndirectly I caught sight of her. Would that thou too hadst ne'er slain\nPhocus! All this I bring before thee in pure good-will, not from anger.\nBut if thou resent it, thy tongue may wag till it ache, yet shall\nI gain by prudent forethought.\nLEADER Cease now from idle words, 'twere better far, for fear ye\nboth alike go wrong.\nPELEUS Alas! what evil customs now prevail in Hellas! Whene'er the\nhost sets up a trophy o'er the foe, men no more consider this the\nwork of those who really toiled, but the general gets the credit for\nit. Now he was but one among ten thousand others to brandish his spear;\nhe only did the work of one; but yet he wins more praise than they.\nAgain, as magistrates in all the grandeur of office they scorn the\ncommon folk, though they are naught themselves; whereas those others\nare ten thousand times more wise than they, if daring combine with\njudgment. Even so thou and thy brother, exalted by the toilsome efforts\nof others, now take your seats in all the swollen pride of Trojan\nfame and Trojan generalship. But I will teach thee henceforth to consider\nIdaean Paris a foe less terrible than Peleus, unless forthwith thou\npack from this roof, thou and thy childless daughter too, whom my\nown true son will hale through his halls by the hair of her head;\nfor her barrenness will not let her endure fruitfulness in others,\nbecause she has no children herself. Still if misfortune prevents\nher bearing offspring, is that a reason why we should be left childless?\nBegone! ye varlets, let her go! I will soon see if anyone will hinder\nme from loosing her hands. (to ANDROMACHE) Arise; these trembling\nhands of mine will untie the twisted thongs that bind thee. Out on\nthee, coward! is this how thou hast galled her wrists? Didst think\nthou wert lashing up a lion or bull? or wert afraid she would snatch\na sword and defend herself against thee? Come, child, nestle to thy\nmother's arms; help me loose her bonds; I will yet rear thee in Phthia\nto be their bitter foe. If your reputation for prowess and the battles\nye have fought were taken from you Spartans, in all else, be very\nsure, you have not your inferiors.\nLEADER The race of old men practises no restraint; and their testiness\nmakes it hard to check them.\nMENELAUS Thou art only too ready to rush into abuse; while, as for\nme, I came to Phthia by constraint and have therefore no intention\neither of doing or suffering anything mean. Now must I return home,\nfor I have no time to waste; for there is a city not so very far from\nSparta, which aforetime was friendly but now is hostile; against her\nwill I march with my army and bring her into subjection. And when\nI have arranged that matter as I wish, I will return; and face to\nface with my son-in-law I will give my version of the story and hear\nhis. And if he punish her, and for the future she exercise self-control,\nshe shall find me do the like; but if he storm, I'll storm as well;\nand every act of mine shall be a reflex of his own. As for thy babbling,\nI can bear it easily; for, like to a shadow as thou art, thy voice\nis all thou hast, and thou art powerless to do aught but talk. (MENELAUS\nand his retinue withdraw.)\nPELEUS Lead on, my child, safe beneath my sheltering wing, and thou\ntoo, poor lady; for thou art come into a quiet haven after the rude\nstorm.\nANDROMACHE Heaven reward thee and all thy race, old sire, for having\nsaved my child and me his hapless mother! Only beware lest they fall\nupon us twain in some lonely spot upon the road and force me from\nthee, when they see thy age, my weakness, and this child's tender\nyears; take heed to this, that we be not a second time made captive,\nafter escaping now.\nPELEUS Forbear such words, prompted by a woman's cowardice. Go on\nthy way; who will lay a finger on you? Methinks he will do it to his\ncost, For by heaven's grace I rule o'er many a knight and spearman\nbold in my kingdom of Phthia; yea, and myself can still stand straight,\nno bent old man as thou dost think; such a fellow as that a mere look\nfrom me will put to flight in spite of my years. For e'en an old man,\nbe he brave, is worth a host of raw youths; for what avails a fine\nfigure if a man is coward? (PELEUS, ANDROMACHE, and MOLOSSUS go out.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe)\nOh! to have never been born, or sprung from noble sires, the heir\nto mansions richly stored; for if aught untoward e'er befall, there\nis no lack of champions for sons of noble parents, and there is honour\nand glory for them when they are proclaimed scions of illustrious\nlines; time detracts not from the legacy these good men leave, but\nthe light of their goodness still burns on when they are dead.\n(antistrophe)\nBetter is it not to win a discreditable victory, than to make justice\nmiscarry by an invidious exercise of power; for such a victory, though\nmen think it sweet for the moment, grows barren in time and comes\nnear being a stain on a house. This is the life I commend, this the\nlife I set before me as my ideal, to exercise no authority beyond\nwhat is right either in the marriage-chamber or in the state.\n(epode)\nO aged son of Aeacus! now am I sure that thou wert with the Lapithae,\nwielding thy famous spear, when they fought the Centaurs; and on Argo's\ndeck didst pass the cheerless strait beyond the sea-beat Symplegades\non her voyage famed; and when in days long gone the son of Zeus spread\nslaughter round Troy's famous town, thou too didst share his triumphant\nreturn to Europe. (The NURSE OF HERMIONE enters.)\nNURSE Alas! good friends, what a succession of troubles is to-day\nprovided us! My mistress Hermione within the house, deserted by her\nfather and in remorse for her monstrous deed in plotting the death\nof Andromache and her child, is bent on dying; for she is afraid her\nhusband will in requital for this expel her with dishonour from his\nhouse or put her to death, because she tried to slay the innocent.\nAnd the servants that watch her can scarce restrain her efforts to\nhang herself, scarce catch the sword and wrest it from her hand. So\nbitter is her anguish, and she hath recognized the villainy of her\nformer deeds. As for me, friends, I am weary of keeping my mistress\nfrom the fatal noose; do ye go in and try to save her life; for if\nstrangers come, they prove more persuasive than the friends of every\nday.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah yes! I hear an outcry in the house amongst\nthe servants, confirming the news thou hast brought. Poor sufferer!\nshe seems about to show lively grief for her grave crimes; for she\nhas escaped her servants' hands and is rushing from the house, eager\nto end her life. (HERMIONE enters, in agitation. She is carrying\na sword which the NURSE wrests from her.)\nHERMIONE (chanting) Woe, woe is me! I will rend my hair and tear\ncruel furrows in my cheeks.\nNURSE My child, what wilt thou do? Wilt thou disfigure thyself?\nHERMIONE (chanting) Ah me! ah me! Begone, thou fine-spun veil! float\nfrom my head away!\nNURSE Daughter, cover up thy bosom, fasten thy robe.\nHERMIONE (chanting) Why should I cover it? My crimes against my\nlord are manifest and clear, they cannot be hidden.\nNURSE Art so grieved at having devised thy rival's death?\nHERMIONE (chanting) Yea, I deeply mourn my fatal deeds of daring;\nalas! I am now accursed in all men's eyes!\nNURSE Thy husband will pardon thee this error.\nHERMIONE (chanting) Oh! why didst thou hunt me to snatch away my\nsword? Give, oh! give it back, dear nurse, that I may thrust it through\nmy heart Why dost thou prevent me hanging myself?\nNURSE What! was I to let thy madness lead thee on to death?\nHERMIONE (chanting) Ah me, my destiny! Where can I find some friendly\nfire? To what rocky height can I climb above the sea or 'mid some\nwooded mountain glen, there to die and trouble but the dead?\nNURSE Why vex thyself thus? on all of us sooner or later heaven's\nvisitation comes.\nHERMIONE (chanting) Thou hast left me, O my father, left me like\na stranded bark, all alone, without an oar. My lord will surely slay\nme; no home is mine henceforth beneath my husband's roof. What god\nis there to whose statue I can as a suppliant haste? or shall I throw\nmyself in slavish wise at slavish knees? Would I could speed away\nfrom Phthia's land on bird's dark pinion, or like that pine-built\nship, the first that ever sailed betwixt the rocks Cyanean!\nNURSE My child, I can as little praise thy previous sinful excesses,\ncommitted against the Trojan captive, as thy present exaggerated terror.\nThy husband will never listen to a barbarian's weak pleading and reject\nhis marriage with thee for this. For thou wast no captive from Troy\nwhom he wedded, but the daughter of a gallant sire, with a rich dower,\nfrom a city too of no mean prosperity. Nor will thy father forsake\nthee, as thou dreadest, and allow thee to be cast out from this house.\nNay, enter now, nor show thyself before the palace, lest the sight\nof thee there bring reproach upon thee, my daughter. (The NURSE departs\nas ORESTES and his attendants enter.)\nLEADER Lo! a stranger of foreign appearance from some other land\ncomes hurrying towards us.\nORESTES Women of this foreign land! is this the home, the palace\nof Achilles' son?\nLEADER Thou hast it; but who art thou to ask such a question?\nORESTES The son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, by name Orestes, on\nply way to the oracle of Zeus at Dodona. But now that I am come to\nPhthia, I am resolved to inquire about my kinswoman, Hermione of Sparta;\nis she alive and well? for though she dwells in a land far from my\nown, I love her none the less.\nHERMIONE Son of Agamemnon, thy appearing is as a haven from the storm\nto sailors; by thy knees I pray, have pity on me in my distress, on\nme of whose fortunes thou art inquiring. About thy knees I twine my\narms with all the force of sacred fillets.\nORESTES Ha! what is this? Am I mistaken or do I really see before\nme the queen of this palace, the daughter of Menelaus?\nHERMIONE The same, that only child whom Helen, daughter of Tyndareus,\nbore my father in his halls; never doubt that.\nORESTES O saviour Phoebus, grant us respite from our woe! But what\nis the matter? art thou afflicted by gods or men?\nHERMIONE Partly by myself, partly by the man who wedded me, and partly\nby some god. On every side I see ruin.\nORESTES Why, what misfortune could happen to a woman as yet childless,\nunless her honour is concerned?\nHERMIONE My very ill! Thou hast hit my case exactly.\nORESTES On whom has thy husband set his affections in thy stead?\nHERMIONE On his captive, Hector's wife.\nORESTES An evil case indeed, for a man to have two wives!\nHERMIONE 'Tis even thus. So I resented it.\nORESTES Didst thou with woman's craft devise a plot against thy rival?\nHERMIONE Yes, to slay her and her bastard child.\nORESTES And didst thou slay them, or did something happen to rescue\nthem from thee?\nHERMIONE It was old Peleus, who showed regard to the weaker side.\nORESTES Hadst thou any accomplice in this attempted murder?\nHERMIONE My father came from Sparta for this very purpose.\nORESTES And was he after all defeated by that old man's prowess?\nHERMIONE Oh no! but by shame; and he hath gone and left me all alone.\nORESTES I understand; thou art afraid of thy husband for what thou\nhast done.\nHERMIONE Thou hast guessed it; for he will have a right to slay me.\nWhat can say for myself? Yet I beseech thee by Zeus the god of our\nfamily, send me to a land as far as possible from this, or to my father's\nhouse; for these very walls seem to cry out \"Begone!\" and all the\nland of Phthia hates me. But if my lord return ere that from the oracle\nof Phoebus, he will put me to death on a shameful charge, or enslave\nme to his mistress, whom ruled before. Maybe some one will say, \"How\nwas it thou didst go thus astray?\" I was ruined by evil women who\ncame to me and puffed me up with words like these: \"Wait! wilt thou\nsuffer that vile captive, a mere bondmaid, to dwell within thy house\nand share thy wedded rights? By Heaven's queen! if it were my house\nshe should not live to reap my marriage-harvest!\" And I listened to\nthe words of these Sirens, the cunning, knavish, subtle praters, and\nwas filled with silly thoughts. What need had I to care about my lord?\nI had all I wanted, wealth in plenty, a house in which I was mistress,\nand as for children, mine would be born in wedlock, while hers would\nbe bastards, half-slaves to mine. Oh! never, never,-this truth will\nI repeat,-should men of sense, who have wives, allow women-folk to\nvisit them in their homes, for they teach them evil; one, to gain\nsome private end, helps to corrupt their honour; another, having made\na slip herself, wants a companion in misfortune, while many are wantons;\nand hence it is men's houses are tainted. Wherefore keep strict guard\nupon the portals of your houses with bolts and bars; for these visits\nof strange women lead to no good result, but a world of ill.\nLEADER Thou hast given thy tongue too free a rein regarding thy own\nsex. I can pardon thee in this case, but still women ought to smooth\nover their sisters' weaknesses.\nORESTES 'Twas sage counsel he gave who taught men to hear the arguments\non both sides. I, for instance, though aware of the confusion in this\nhouse, the quarrel between thee and Hector's wife, waited awhile and\nwatched to see whether thou wouldst stay here or from fear of that\ncaptive art minded to quit these halls. Now it was not so much regard\nfor thy message that brought me thither, as the intention of carrying\nthee away from this house, if, as now, thou shouldst grant me a chance\nof saying so. For thou wert mine formerly, but art now living with\nthy present husband through thy father's baseness; since he, before\ninvading Troy's domains, betrothed thee to me, and then afterwards\npromised thee to thy present lord, provided he captured the city of\nTroy.\nSo, as soon as Achilles' son returned hither, I forgave thy father,\nbut entreated the bridegroom to forego his marriage with thee, telling\nhim all I had endured and my present misfortune; I might get a wife,\nI said, from amongst friends, but outside their circle 'twas no easy\ntask for one exiled like myself from home. Thereat he grew abusive,\ntaunting me with my mother's murder and those blood-boltered fiends.\nAnd I was humbled by the fortunes of my house, and though 'tis true,\nI grieved, yet did I bear my sorrow, and reluctantly departed, robbed\nof thy promised hand. Now therefore, since thou findest thy fortune\nso abruptly changed and art fallen thus on evil days and hast no help,\nI will take thee hence and place thee in thy father's hands. For kinship\nhath strong claims, and in adversity there is naught better than a\nkinsman's kindly aid.\nHERMIONE As for my marriage, my father must look to it; 'tis not\nfor me to decide. Yes, take me hence as soon as may be, lest my husband\ncome back to his house before I am gone, or Peleus hear that I am\ndeserting his son's abode and pursue me with his swift steeds.\nORESTES Rest easy about the old man's power; and, as for Achilles'\nson with all his insolence to me, never fear him; such a crafty net\nthis hand hath woven and set for his death with knots that none can\nloose; whereof I will not speak before the time, but, when my plot\nbegins to work, Delphi's rock will witness it. If but my allies in\nthe Pythian land abide by their oaths, this same murderer of his mother\nwill show that no one else shall marry thee my rightful bride. To\nhis cost will he demand satisfaction of King Phoebus for his father's\nblood; nor shall his repentance avail him though he is now submitting\nto the god. No! he shall perish miserably by Apollo's hand and my\nfalse accusations; so shall he find out my enmity. For the deity upsets\nthe fortune of them that hate him, and suffers them not to be high-minded.\n(ORESTES and HERMIONE depart.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nO Phoebus! who didst fence the hill of Ilium with a fair coronal\nof towers, and thou, ocean-god! coursing o'er the main with thy dark\nsteeds, wherefore did ye hand over in dishonour your own handiwork\nto the war-god, master of the spear, abandoning Troy to wretchedness?\n(antistrophe 1)\nMany a well-horsed car ye yoked on the banks of Simois, and many\na bloody tournament did ye ordain with never a prize to win; and Ilium's\nprinces are dead and gone; no longer in Troy is seen the blaze of\nfire on altars of the gods with the smoke of incense.\n(strophe 2)\nThe son of Atreus is no more, slain by the hand of his wife, and\nshe herself hath paid the debt of blood by death, and from her children's\nhands received her doom. The god's own bidding from his oracle was\nlevelled against her, in the day that Agamemnon's son set forth from\nArgos and visited his shrine; so he slew her, aye, spilt his own mother's\nblood. O Phoebus, O thou power divine, how can I believe the story?\n(antistrophe 2)\nAnon wherever Hellenes gather, was heard the voice of lamentation,\nmothers weeping o'er their children's fate, as they left their homes\nto mate with strangers. Ah! thou art not the only one, nor thy dear\nones either, on whom the cloud of grief hath fallen. Hellas had to\nbear the visitation, and thence the scourge crossed to Phrygia's fruitful\nfields, raining the bloody drops the death-god loves. (PELEUS enters\nin haste.)\nPELEUS Ye dames of Phthia, answer my questions. I heard a vague rumour\nthat the daughter of Menelaus had left these halls and fled; so now\nI am come in hot haste to learn if this be true; for it is the duty\nof those who are at home to labour in the interests of their absent\nfriends.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Thou hast heard aright, O Peleus; ill would\nit become me to hide the evil case in which I now find myself; our\nqueen has fled and left these halls.\nPELEUS What did she fear? explain that to me.\nLEADER She was afraid her lord would cast her out.\nPELEUS In return for plotting his child's death? surely not?\nLEADER Yea, and she was afraid of yon captive.\nPELEUS With whom did she leave the house? with her father?\nLEADER The son of Agamemnon came and took her hence.\nPELEUS What view hath he to further thereby? Will he marry her?\nLEADER Yes, and he is plotting thy grandson's death.\nPELEUS From an ambuscade, or meeting him fairly face to face?\nLEADER In the holy place of Loxias, leagued with Delphians.\nPELEUS God help us. This is a present danger. Hasten one of you with\nall speed to the Pythian altar and tell our friends there what has\nhappened here, ere Achilles' son be slain by his enemies. (A MESSENGER\nenters.)\nMESSENGER Woe worth the day! what evil tidings have I brought for\nthee, old sire, and for all who love my master! woe is me!\nPELEUS Alas! my prophetic soul hath a presentiment.\nMESSENGER Aged Peleus, hearken! Thy grandson is no more; so grievously\nis he smitten by the men of Delphi and the stranger from Mycenae.\nLEADER Ah! what wilt thou do, old man? Fall not; uplift thyself.\nPELEUS I am a thing of naught; death is come upon me. My voice is\nchoked, my limbs droop beneath me.\nMESSENGER Hearken; if thou art eager also to avenge thy friends,\nlift up thyself and hear what happened.\nPELEUS Ah, destiny! how tightly hast thou caught me in thy toils,\na poor old man at life's extremest verge! But tell me how he was taken\nfrom me, my one son's only child; unwelcome as such news is, I fain\nwould hear it.\nMESSENGER As soon as we reached the famous soil of Phoebus, for three\nwhole days were we feasting our eyes with the sight. And this, it\nseems, caused suspicion; for the folk, who dwell near the god's shrine,\nbegan to collect in groups, while Agamemnon's son, going to and fro\nthrough the town, would whisper in each man's ear malignant hints:\n\"Do ye see yon fellow, going in and out of the god's treasure-chambers,\nwhich are full of the gold stored there by all mankind? He is come\nhither a second time on the same mission as before, eager to sack\nthe temple of Phoebus.\" Thereon there ran an angry murmur through\nthe city, and the magistrates flocked to their council-chamber, while\nthose, who have charge of the god's treasures, had a guard privately\nplaced amongst the colonnades. But we, knowing naught as yet of this,\ntook sheep fed in the pastures of Parnassus, and went our way and\nstationed ourselves at the altars with vouchers and Pythian seers.\nAnd one said: \"What prayer, young warrior, wouldst thou have us offer\nto the god? Wherefore art thou come?\" And he answered: \"I wish to\nmake atonement to Phoebus for my past transgression; for once I claimed\nfrom him satisfaction for my father's blood.\" Thereupon the rumour,\nspread by Orestes, proved to have great weight, suggesting that my\nmaster was lying and had come on a shameful errand. But he crosses\nthe threshold of the temple to pray to Phoebus before his oracle,\nand was busy with his burnt-offering; when a body of men armed with\nswords set themselves in ambush against him in the cover of the bay-trees,\nand Clytemnestra's son, that had contrived the whole plot was one\nof them. There stood the young man praying to the god in sight of\nall, when lo! with their sharp swords they stabbed Achilles' unprotected\nson from behind. But he stepped back, for it was not a mortal wound\nhe had received, and drew his sword, and snatching armour from the\npegs where it hung on a pillar, took his stand upon the altar-steps,\nthe picture of a warrior grim; then cried he to the sons of Delphi,\nand asked them: \"Why seek to slay me when I am come on a holy mission?\nWhat cause is there why I should die? But of all that throng of bystanders,\nno man answered him a word, but they set to hurling stones. Then he,\nthough bruised and battered by the showers of missiles from all sides,\ncovered himself behind his mail and tried to ward off the attack,\nholding his shield first here, then there, at arm's length, but all\nof no avail; for a storm of darts, arrows and javelins, hurtling spits\nwith double points, and butchers' knives for slaying steers, came\nflying at his feet; and terrible was the war-dance thou hadst then\nseen thy grandson dance to avoid their marksmanship. At last, when\nthey were hemming him in on all sides, allowing him no breathing space,\nhe left the shelter of the altar, the hearth where victims are placed,\nand with one bound was on them as on the Trojans of yore; and they\nturned and fled like doves when they see the hawk. Many fell in the\nconfusion: some wounded, and others trodden down by one another along\nthe narrow passages; and in that hushed holy house uprose unholy din\nand echoed back from the rocks. Calm and still my master stood there\nin his gleaming harness like a flash of light, till from the inmost\nshrine there came a voice of thrilling horror, stirring the crowd\nto make a stand. Then fell Achilles' son, smitten through the flank\nby some Delphian's biting blade, some fellow that slew him with a\nhost to help; and as he fell, there was not one that did not stab\nhim, or cast a rock and batter his corpse. So his whole body, once\nso fair, was marred with savage wounds. At last they cast the lifeless\nclay, Iying near the altar, forth from the fragrant fane. And we gathered\nup his remains forthwith and are bringing them to thee, old prince,\nto mourn and weep and honour with a deep-dug tomb.\nThis is how that prince who vouchsafeth oracles to others, that judge\nof what is right for all the world, hath revenged himself on Achilles'\nson, remembering his ancient quarrel as a wicked man would. How then\ncan he be wise? (The MESSENGER withdraws as the body of Neoptolemus\nis carried in on a bier. The following lines between PELEUS and the\nCHORUS are chanted responsively.)\nCHORUS Lo! e'en now our prince is being carried on a bier from Delphi's\nland unto his home. Woe for him and his sad fate, and woe for thee,\nold sire! for this is not the welcome thou wouldst give Achilles'\nson, the lion's whelp; thyself too by this sad mischance dost share\nhis evil lot.\nPELEUS Ah! woe is me! here is a sad sight for me to see and take\nunto my halls! Ah me! ah me! I am undone, thou city of Thessaly! My\nline now ends; I have no children left me in my home. Oh! the sorrows\nseem born to endure! What friend can I look to for relief? Ah, dear\nlips, and cheeks, and hands! Would thy destiny had slain the 'neath\nIlium's walls beside the banks of Simois!\nCHORUS Had he so died, my aged lord, he had won him honour thereby,\nand thine had been the happier lot.\nPELEUS O marriage, marriage, woe to thee! thou bane of my home, thou\ndestroyer of my city! Ah my child, my boy, would that the honour of\nwedding thee, fraught with evil as it was to my children and house,\nhad not thrown o'er thee, my son, Hermione's deadly net! that the\nthunderbolt had slain her sooner! and that thou, rash mortal, hadst\nnever charged the great god Phoebus with aiming that murderous shaft\nthat spilt thy hero-father's blood!\nCHORUS Woe! woe! alas! With due observance of funeral rites will\nI begin the mourning for my dead master.\nPELEUS Alack and well-a-day! I take up the tearful dirge, ah me!\nold and wretched as I am.\nCHORUS 'Tis Heaven's decree; God willed this heavy stroke.\nPELEUS O darling child, thou hast left me all alone in my halls,\nold and childless by thy loss.\nCHORUS Thou shouldst have died, old sire, before thy children.\nPELEUS Shall I not tear my hair, and smite upon my head with grievous\nblows? O city! of both my children hath Phoebus robbed me.\nCHORUS What evils thou hast suffered, what sorrows thou hast seen,\nthou poor old man! what shall be thy life hereafter?\nPELEUS Childless, desolate, with no limit to my grief, I must drain\nthe cup of woe, until I die.\nCHORUS 'Twas all in vain the gods wished thee joy on thy wedding\nday.\nPELEUS All my hopes have flown away, fallen short of my high boasts.\nCHORUS A lonely dweller in a lonely home art thou.\nPELEUS I have no city any longer; there! on the ground my sceptre\ndo cast; and thou, daughter of Nereus, 'neath thy dim grotto, shalt\nsee me grovelling in the dust, a ruined king.\nCHORUS Look, look! (A dim form of divine appearance is seen hovering\nmid air.) What is that moving? what influence divine am I conscious\nof? Look, maidens, mark it well; see, yonder is some deity, wafted\nthrough the lustrous air and alighting on the plains of Phthia, home\nof steeds.\nTHETIS (from above) O Peleus! because of my wedded days with thee\nnow long agone, I Thetis am come from the halls of Nereus. And first\nI counsel thee not to grieve to excess in thy present distress, for\nI too who need ne'er have borne children to my sorrow, have lost the\nchild of our love, Achilles swift of foot, foremost of the sons of\nHellas. Next will I declare why I am come, and do thou give ear. Carry\nyonder corpse, Achilles' son, to the Pythian altar and there bury\nit, a reproach to Delphi, that his tomb may proclaim the violent death\nhe met at the hand of Orestes. And for his captive wife Andromache,-she\nmust dwell in the Molossian land, united in honourable wedlock with\nHelenus, and with her this babe, the sole survivor as he is of all\nthe line of Aeacus, for from him a succession of prosperous kings\nof Molossia is to go on unbroken; for the race that springs from thee\nand me, my aged lord, must not thus be brought to naught; no! nor\nTroy's line either; for her fate too is cared for by the gods, albeit\nher fall was due to the eager wish of Pallas. Thee too, that thou\nmayst know the saving grace of wedding me, will I, a goddess born\nand daughter of a god, release from all the ills that flesh is heir\nto and make a deity to know not death nor decay. From henceforth in\nthe halls of Nereus shalt thou dwell with me, god and goddess together;\nthence shalt thou rise dry-shod from out the main and see Achilles,\nour dear son, settled in his island-home by the strand of Leuce, that\nis girdled by the Euxine sea. But get thee to Delphi's god-built town,\ncarrying this corpse with thee, and, after thou hast buried him, return\nand settle in the cave which time hath hollowed in the Sepian rock\nand there abide, till from the sea I come with choir of fifty Nereids\nto be thy escort thence; for fate's decree thou must fulfil; such\nis the pleasure of Zeus. Cease then to mourn the dead; this is the\nlot which heaven assigns to all, and all must pay their debt to death.\nPELEUS Great queen, my honoured wife, from Nereus sprung, all hail!\nthou art acting herein as befits thyself and thy children. So I will\nstay my grief at thy bidding, goddess, and, when I have buried the\ndead, will seek the glens of Pelion, even the place where I took thy\nbeauteous form to my embrace. Surely after this every prudent man\nwill seek to marry a wife of noble stock and give his daughter to\na husband good and true, never setting his heart on a worthless woman,\nnot even though she bring a sumptuous dowry to his house. So would\nmen ne'er suffer ill at heaven's hand. (THETIS vanishes.)\nCHORUS (chanting) Many are the shapes of Heaven's denizens, and\nmany a thing they bring to pass contrary to our expectation; that\nwhich we thought would be is not accomplished, while for the unexpected\nGod finds out a way. E'en such hath been the issue of this matter.\nTHE END","title":"Andromache, By Euripides","type":"page"}