{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/eurip/orestes.htm","path":"cla/eurip/orestes.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/eurip/orestes.htm","text":"Orestes\nBy Euripides\nTranslated by E. P. Coleridge\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nDramatis Personae\nELECTRA, daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra\nHELEN, wife of MENELAUS\nCHORUS OF ARGIVE MAIDENS\nORESTES, brother of ELECTRA\nMENELAUS, brother of Agamemnon; King of Argos\nPYLADES, friend Of ORESTES\nMESSENGER, formerly servant of Agamemnon\nHERMIONE, daughter of MENELAUS and HELEN\nA PHRYGIAN EUNUCH, in HELEN'S retinue\nAPOLLO\nTYNDAREUS, father of Clytemnestra\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nBefore the royal palace at Argos. It is the sixth day after the murder\nof Clytemnestra and Aegisthus. ELECTRA is discovered alone. ORESTES\nlies sleeping on a couch in the background.\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nELECTRA There is naught so terrible to describe, be it physical\npain or heaven-sent affliction, that man's nature may not have to\nbear the burden of it. Tantalus, they say, once so prosperous,-and\nI am not now taunting him with his misfortunes,-Tantalus, the reputed\nson of Zeus, hangs suspended in mid air, quailing at the crag which\nlooms above his head; paying this penalty, they say, for the shameful\nweakness he displayed in failing to keep a bridle on his lips, when\nadmitted by gods, though he was but mortal, to share the honours of\ntheir feasts like one of them.\nHe it was that begat Pelops, the father of Atreus, for whom the goddess,\nwhen she had carded her wool, spun a web of strife, even to the making\nof war with his own brother Thyestes. But why need I repeat that hideous\ntale?\nWell, Atreus slew Thyestes' children and feasted him on them; but,-passing\nover intermediate events-from Atreus and Aerope of Crete sprang Agamemnon,\nthat famous chief,-if his was really fame,-and Menelaus. Now it was\nthis Menelaus who married Helen, Heaven's abhorrence; while his brother,\nKing Agamemnon, took Clytemnestra to wife, name of note in Hellas,\nand we three daughters were his issue, Chrysothemis, Iphigenia, and\nmyself Electra; also a son Orestes; all of that one accursed mother,\nwho slew her lord, after snaring him in a robe that had no outlet.\nHer reason a maiden's lips may not declare, and so leave that unexplained\nfor the world to guess at. What need for me to charge Phoebus with\nwrong-doing, though he instigated Orestes to slay his own mother,\na deed that few approved; still it was his obedience to the god that\nmade him slay her; I, too, feebly as a woman would, shared in the\ndeed of blood, as did Pylades who helped us to bring it about.\nAfter this my poor Orestes fell sick of a cruel wasting disease; upon\nhis couch he lies prostrated, and it is his mother's blood that goads\nhim into frenzied fits; this I say, from dread of naming those goddesses,\nwhose terrors are chasing him before them,-even the Eumenides. 'Tis\nnow the sixth day since the body of his murdered mother was committed\nto the cleansing fire; since then no food has passed his lips, nor\nhath he washed his skin; but wrapped in his cloak he weeps in his\nlucid moments, whenever the fever leaves him; other whiles he bounds\nheadlong from his couch, as colt when it is loosed from the yoke.\nMoreover, this city of Argos has decreed that no man give us shelter\nat his fireside or speak to matricides like us; yea, and this is the\nfateful day on which Argos will decide our sentence, whether we are\nboth to die by stoning, or to whet the steel and plunge it in our\nnecks. There is, 'tis true, one hope of escape still left us; Menelaus\nhas landed from Troy; his fleet now crowds the haven of Nauplia where\nhe is come to anchor, returned at last from Troy after ceaseless wanderings;\nbut Helen, that \"lady of sorrows,\" as she styles herself, hath he\nsent on to our palace, carefully waiting for the night, lest any of\nthose parents whose sons were slain beneath the walls of Troy, might\nsee her if she went by day, and set to stoning her. Within she sits,\nweeping for her sister and the calamities of her family, and yet she\nhath still some solace in her woe; for Hermione, the child she left\nat home in the hour she sailed for Troys-the maid whom Menelaus brought\nfrom Sparta and entrusted to my mother's keeping,-is still a cause\nof joy to her and a reason to forget her sorrows.\nI, meantime, am watching each approach, against the moment I see Menelaus\narriving; for unless we find some safety there, we have but feeble\nanchor to ride on otherwise.\nA helpless thing, an unlucky house! (HELEN enters from the palace.)\nHELEN Daughter of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon, hapless Electra, too\nlong now left a maid unwed! how is it with thee and thy brother, this\nill-starred Orestes who slew his mother! Speak; for referring the\nsin as I do to Phoebus, I incur no pollution by letting thee accost\nme; and yet am truly sorry for the fate of my sister Clytenmestra,\non whom I ne'er set eyes after I was driven by heaven-sent frenzy\nto sail on my disastrous voyage to Ilium; but now that I am parted\nfrom her I bewail our misfortunes.\nELECTRA Prithee, Helen, why should I speak of that which thine own\neyes can see the son of Agamemnon in his misery?\nBeside his wretched corpse I sit, a sleepless sentinel; for corpse\nhe is, so faint his breath; not that I reproach him with his sufferings;\nbut thou art highly blest and thy husband too, and ye are come upon\nus in the hour of adversity.\nHELEN How long hath he been laid thus upon his couch?\nELECTRA Ever since he spilt his mother's blood-.\nHELEN Unhappy wretch! unhappy mother! what a death she died!\nELECTRA Unhappy enough to succumb to his misery.\nHELEN Prithee, maiden, wilt hear me a moment?\nELECTRA Aye, with such small leisure as this watching o'er a brother\nleaves.\nHELEN Wilt go for me to my sister's tomb?\nELECTRA Wouldst have me seek my mother's tomb? And why?\nHELEN To carry an offering of hair and a libation from me.\nELECTRA Art forbidden then to go to the tombs of those thou lovest?\nHELEN Nay, but I am ashamed to show myself in Argos.\nELECTRA A late repentance surely for one who left her home so shamefully\nthen.\nHELEN Thou hast told the truth, but thy telling is not kind to me.\nELECTRA What is this supposed modesty before the eyes of Mycenae\nthat possesses thee?\nHELEN I am afraid of the fathers of those who lie dead beneath the\nwalls of Ilium.\nELECTRA Good cause for fear; thy name is on every tongue in Argos.\nHELEN Then free me of my fear and grant me this boon.\nELECTRA I could not bear to face my mother's grave.\nHELEN And yet 'twere shame indeed to send these offerings by a servant's\nhand.\nELECTRA Then why not send thy daughter Hermione?\nHELEN 'Tis not seemly for a tender maid to make her way amongst a\ncrowd.\nELECTRA And yet she would thus be repaying her dead foster-mother's\ncare.\nHELEN True; thou hast convinced me, maiden. Yes, I will send my daughter;\nfor thou art right. (Calling) Hermione, my child, come forth before\nthe palace; (HERMIONE and attendants come out of the palace.) take\nthese libations and these tresses of mine in thy hands, and go pour\nround Clytemnestra's tomb a mingled cup of honey, milk, and frothing\nwine; then stand upon the heaped-up grave, and proclaim therefrom,\n\"Helen, thy sister, sends thee these libations as her gift, fearing\nherself to approach thy tomb from terror of the Argive mob\"; and bid\nher harbour kindly thoughts towards me and thee and my husband; towards\nthese two wretched sufferers, too, whom Heaven hath afflicted. Likewise\npromise that I will pay in full whatever funeral gifts are due from\nme to a sister. Now go, my child, and tarry not; and soon as thou\nhast made the offering at the tomb, bethink thee of thy return. (HELEN\ngoes into the palace as HERMIONE and her attendants depart with the\nofferings.)\nELECTRA O human nature, what a grievous curse thou art in this world!\nand what salvation, too, to those who have a goodly heritage therein!\nDid ye mark how she cut off her hair only at the ends, careful to\npreserve its beauty? 'Tis the same woman as of old. May Heaven's hate\npursue thee! for thou hast proved the ruin of me and my poor brother\nand all Hellas.\nAlack! here are my friends once more, coming to unite their plaintive\ndirge with mine; they will soon put an end to my brother's peaceful\nsleep and cause my tears to flow when I see his frenzied fit. (The\nCHORUS OF ARGIVE MAIDENS enters quietly. The following lines between\nELECTRA and the CHORUS are chanted responsively.) Good friends, step\nsoftly; not a sound; not a whisper! for though this kindness is well-meant,\nrouse him and I shall rue it.\nCHORUS Hush! hush! let your footsteps fall lightly! not a sound!\nnot whisper!\nELECTRA Further, further from his couch! I beseech ye.\nCHORUS There! there! I obey.\nELECTRA Hush! hush! good friend, I pray. Soft as the breath of slender\nreedy pipe be thy every accent!\nCHORUS Hark, how soft and low I drop my voice!\nELECTRA Yes, lower thy voice e'en thus; approach now, softly, softly!\nTell me what reason ye had for coming at all. 'Tis so long since he\nlaid him down to sleep.\nCHORUS How is it with him? Impart thy news, dear lady. Is it weal\nor woe I am to tell?\nELECTRA He is still alive, but his moans grow feeble.\nCHORUS What sayest thou? (Turning to ORESTES) Poor wretch!\nELECTRA Awake him from the deep sweet slumber he is now enjoying\nand thou wilt cause his death.\nCHORUS Ah, poor sufferer! victim of Heaven's vengeful hate!\nELECTRA Ah, misery! It seems it was a wicked utterance by a wicked\ngod delivered, the day that Loxias from his seat upon the tripod of\nThemis decreed my mother's most unnatural murder.\nCHORUS He stirs beneath his robe! Dost see?\nELECTRA Alas! I do; thy noisy words have roused him from his sleep.\nCHORUS Nay, methinks he slumbers still.\nELECTRA Begone! quit the house! retrace thy footsteps! a truce to\nthis din!\nCHORUS He sleeps. Thou art right.\nELECTRA O Night, majestic queen, giver of sleep to toiling men, rise\nfrom the abyss of Erebus and wing thy way to the palace of Agamemnon!\nFor beneath our load of misery and woe we sink, aye, sink oppressed.\nThere! (To the CHORUS) that noise again! Be still and keep that\nhigh-pitched voice of thine away from his couch; suffer him to enjoy\nhis sleep in peace!\nCHORUS Tell me, what end awaits his troubles?\nELECTRA Death, death; what else? for he does not even miss his food.\nCHORUS Why, then his doom is full in view.\nELECTRA Phoebus marked us out as his victims by imposing a foul unnatural\ntask, even the shedding of the blood of our mother, who slew our sire.\nCHORUS 'Twas just, but 'twas not well.\nELECTRA Dead, dead, O mother mine! and thou hast slain a father and\nthese the children of thy womb; for we are dead or as the dead. Yes,\nthou art in thy grave, and more than half my life is spent in weeping\nand wailing and midnight lamentations; oh, look on me! a maid unwed,\nunblest with babes, I drag out a joyless existence as if for ever.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS My daughter Electra, from thy near station there\nsee whether thy brother hath not passed away without thy knowing it;\nfor I like not his utter prostration.\nORESTES (awaking refreshed) Sweet charm of sleep! saviour in sickness!\nhow dear to me thy coming was! how needed! All hail, majestic power,\noblivion of woe! How wise this goddess is, how earnestly invoked by\nevery suffering soul! (Addressing ELECTRA) Whence came I hither?\nHow is it I am here? for I have lost all previous recollection and\nremember nothing.\nELECTRA Dearest brother, how glad I was to see thee fall asleep!\nWouldst have me take thee in my arms and lift thy body?\nORESTES Take, oh! take me in thy arms, and from this sufferer's mouth\nand eyes wipe off the flakes of foam.\nELECTRA Ah! 'tis a service I love; nor do I scorn with sister's hand\nto tend a brother's limbs.\nORESTES Prop me up, thy side to mine; brush the matted hair from\noff my face, for I see but dimly.\nELECTRA Ah, poor head! how squalid are thy locks become! How wild\nthy look from remaining so long uncleansed!\nORESTES Lay me once more upon the couch; when my fit leaves me, I\nam all unnerved, unstrung.\nELECTRA (as she lays him down) Welcome to the sick man is his couch,\nfor painful though it be to take thereto, yet is it necessary.\nORESTES Set me upright once again, turn me round; it is their helplessness\nmakes the sick so hard to please.\nELECTRA Wilt put thy feet upon the ground and take a step at last?\nChange is always pleasant.\nORESTES That will I; for that has a semblance of health; and that\nseeming, though it be far from the reality, is preferable to this.\nELECTRA Hear me then, O brother mine, while yet the avenging fiends\npermit thee to use thy senses.\nORESTES Hast news to tell? so it be good, thou dost me a kindness;\nbut if it tend to my hurt, lo! I have sorrow enough.\nELECTRA Menelaus, thy father's brother, is arrived; in Nauplia his\nfleet lies at anchor.\nORESTES Ha! is he come to cast a ray of light upon our gloom, a man\nof our own kin who owes our sire a debt of gratitude?\nELECTRA Yes, he is come, and is bringing Helen with him from the\nwalls of Troy; accept this as a sure proof of what I say.\nORESTES Had he returned alone in safety, he were more to be envied;\nfor if he is bringing his wife with him, he is bringing a load of\nevil.\nELECTRA Tyndareus begat a race of daughters notorious for the shame\nthey earned, infamous throughout Hellas.\nORESTES Be thou then different from that evil brood, for well thou\nmayest, and that not only in profession, but also in heart.\nELECTRA Ah! brother, thine eye is growing wild, and in a moment art\nthou passing from thy recent saneness back to frenzy.\nORESTES (starting up wildly) Mother, I implore thee! let not loose\non me those maidens with their bloodshot eyes and snaky hair. Ha!\nsee, see where they approach to leap upon me!\nELECTRA Lie still, poor sufferer, on thy couch; thine eye sees none\nof the things which thy fancy paints so clear.\nORESTES O Phoebus! they will kill me, yon hounds of hell, death's\npriestesses with glaring eyes, terrific goddesses.\nELECTRA I will not let thee go; but with arms twined round thee will\nprevent thy piteous tossing to and fro.\nORESTES Loose me! thou art one of those fiends that plague me, and\nart gripping me by the waist to hurl my body into Tartarus.\nELECTRA Woe is me! what succour can I find, seeing that we have Heaven's\nforces set against us?\nORESTES Give me my horn-tipped bow, Apollo's gift, wherewith that\ngod declared that I should defend myself against these goddesses,\nif ever they sought to scare me with wild transports of madness.\nA mortal hand will wound one of these goddesses, unless she vanish\nfrom my sight. Do ye not heed me, or mark the feathered shaft of my\nfar-shooting bow ready to wing its flight? What! do ye linger still?\nSpread your pinions, skim the sky, and blame those oracles of Phoebus.\nAh! why am I raving, panting, gasping? Whither, oh! whither have leapt\nfrom off my couch? Once more the storm is past; I see a calm.\nSister, why weepest thou, thy head wrapped in thy robe? I am ashamed\nthat I should make thee a partner in my sufferings and distress a\nmaid like thee through sickness of mine. Cease to fret for my troubles;\nfor though thou didst consent to it, yet 'twas I that spilt our mother's\nblood. 'Tis Loxias I blame, for urging me on to do a deed most damned,\nencouraging me with words but no real help; for I am sure that, had\nI asked my father to his face whether I was to slay my mother, he\nwould have implored me oft and earnestly by this beard never to plunge\na murderer's sword into my mother's breast, since he would not thereby\nregain his life, whilst I, poor wretch, should be doomed to drain\nthis cup of sorrow.\nE'en as it is, dear sister, unveil thy face and cease to weep, despite\nour abject misery; and whensoe'er thou seest me give way to despair,\nbe it thine to calm and soothe the terrors and distorted fancies of\nmy brain; likewise when sorrow comes to thee, I must be at thy side\nand give the words of comfort; for to help our friends like this is\na gracious task.\nSeek thy chamber now, poor sister; lie down and close awhile thy sleepless\neyes; take food and bathe thy body; for if thou leave me or fall sick\nfrom nursing me, my doom is sealed; for thou art the only champion\nI now have, by all the rest deserted, as thou seest.\nELECTRA I leave thee! never! With thee I am resolved to live and\ndie; for 'tis the same; if thou diest, what can I, a woman, do? How\nshall I escape alone, reft of brother, sire, and friends?\nStill if it be thy pleasure, I must do thy bidding. But lay thee down\nupon thy couch, and pay not too great heed to the terrors and alarms\nthat scare thee from thy rest; lie still upon thy pallet bed; for\ne'en though one be not sick but only fancy it, this is a source of\nweariness and perplexity to mortals. (ELECTRA enters the palace,\nas ORESTES lies back upon his couch.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe)\nAh! ye goddesses terrific, swiftly careering on outspread pinions,\nwhose lot it is 'mid tears and groans to hold revel not with Bacchic\nrites; ye avenging spirits swarthy-hued, that dart along the spacious\nfirmament, exacting a penalty for blood, a penalty for murder, to\nyou I make my suppliant prayer: suffer the son of Agamemnon to forget\nhis wild whirling frenzy!\nAh, woe for the troublous task! which thou, poor wretch, didst strive\nto compass to thy ruin, listening to the voice prophetic, proclaimed\naloud by Phoebus from the tripod throughout his sanctuary, where is\na secret spot they call \"the navel of the earth.\"\n(antistrophe)\nO Zeus! What pity will be shown? what deadly struggle is here at\nhand, hurrying thee on o'er thy path of woe, a victim on whom some\nfiend is heaping tribulation, by bringing on thy house thy mother's\nbloodshed which drives thee raving mad? I weep for thee, for thee\nI weep.\nGreat prosperity abideth not amongst mankind; but some power divine,\nshaking it to and fro like the sail of a swift galley, plunges it\ndeep in the waves of grievous affliction, boisterous and deadly as\nthe waves of the sea. For what new family am I henceforth to honour\nby preference other than that which sprung from a marriage divine,\neven from Tantalus?\nBehold a king draws near, prince Menelaus! From his magnificence 'tis\nplain to see that he is a scion of the race of Tantalus.\nAll hail! thou that didst sail with a thousand ships to Asia's strand,\nand by Heaven's help accomplish all thy heart's desire, making good-fortune\na friend to thyself. (MENELAUS and his retinue enter.)\nMENELAUS All hail, my home! Some joy I feel on seeing thee again\non my return from Troy, some sorrow too the sight recalls; for never\nyet have I beheld a house more closely encircled by the net of dire\naffliction.\nConcerning Agamemnon's fate and the awful death he died at his wife's\nhands I learnt as I was trying to put in at Malea, when the sailors'\nseer from out the waves, unerring Glaucus, Nereus' spokesman, brought\nthe news to me; for he stationed himself in full view by our ship\nand thus addressed me. \"Yonder, Menelaus, lies thy brother slain,\nplunged in a fatal bath, the last his wife will ever give him\"; filling\nhigh the cup of tears for me and my brave crew. Arrived at Nauplia,\nmy wife already, on the point of starting hither, I was dreaming of\nfolding Orestes, Agamemnon's son, and his mother in a fond embrace,\nas if 'twere well with them, when I heard a mariner relate the murder\nof the daughter of Tyndareus. Tell me then, good girls, where to find\nthe son of Agamemnon, the daring author of that fearful crime; for\nhe was but a babe in Clytemnestra's arms that day I left my home to\ngo to Troy, so that I should not recognize him, e'en were I to see\nhim.\nORESTES (staggering towards him from the couch) Behold the object\nof thy inquiry, Menelaus; this is Orestes. To the will I of mine own\naccord relate my sufferings. But as the prelude to my speech I clasp\nthy knees in suppliant wise, seeking thus to tie to thee the prayer\nof lips that lack the suppliant's bough; save me, for thou art arrived\nat the very crisis of my trouble.\nMENELAUS Ye gods! what do I see? what death's-head greets my sight?\nORESTES Thou art right; I am dead through misery, though I still\ngaze upon the sun.\nMENELAUS How wild the look thy unkempt hair gives thee, poor wretch!\nORESTES 'Tis not my looks, but my deeds that torture me.\nMENELAUS How terribly thy tearless eyeballs glare!\nORESTES My body is vanished and gone, though my name hath not yet\ndeserted me.\nMENELAUS Unsightly apparition, so different from what I expected!\nORESTES In me behold a man that hath slain his hapless mother.\nMENELAUS I have heard all; be chary of thy tale of woe.\nORESTES I will; but the deity is lavish of woe to me.\nMENELAUS What ails thee? what is thy deadly sickness?\nORESTES My conscience; I know that I am guilty of an awful crime.\nMENELAUS Explain thyself; wisdom is shown in clearness, not in obscurity.\nORESTES 'Tis grief that is my chief complaint.\nMENELAUS True; she is a goddess dire; yet are there cures for her.\nORESTES Mad transports too, and the vengeance due to a mother's blood.\nMENELAUS When did thy fit begin? which day was it?\nORESTES On the day I was heaping the mound o'er my poor mother's\ngrave,\nMENELAUS When thou wast in the house, or watching by the pyre?\nORESTES As I was waiting by night to gather up her bones.\nCHORUS What news, slave of Helen, creature from Ida?\nPHRYGIAN Ah me for Ilium, for Ilium, the city of Phrygia, and for\nIda's holy hill with fruitful soil! in foreign accents hear me raise\na plaintive strain over thee, whose ruin luckless Helen caused,-that\nlovely child whom Leda bore to a feathered swan, to be a curse to\nApollo's towers of polished stone. Ah! well-a-day! woe to Dardania\nfor the wailings wrung from it by the steeds that bought his minion\nGanymede for Zeus.\nCHORUS Tell us plainly exactly what happened in the house, for till\nnow have been guessing at what I do not clearly understand.\nPHRYGIAN \"Ah, for Linus! woe is him!\" That is what barbarians say\nin their eastern tongue as a prelude to the dirge of death, whene'er\nroyal blood is spilt upon the ground by deadly iron blades.\nTo tell thee exactly what happened: there came into the palace two\nlion-like men of Hellas, twins in nature; your famous chief was sire\nof one, 'twas said; the other was the son of Strophius; a crafty knave\nwas he, like to Odysseus, subtle, silent, but staunch to his friends,\ndaring enough for any valiant deed, versed in war and blood-thirsty\nas a serpent. Ruin seize him for his quiet plotting, the villain!\nIn they came, their eyes bedimmed with tears, and took their seats\nin all humility near the chair of the lady whom Paris the archer once\nwedded, one on this side, one on that, to right and left, with weapons\non them; and both threw their suppliant arms round the knees of Helen;\nwhereon her Phrygian servants started to their feet in wild alarm,\neach in his terror calling to his fellow, \"Beware of treachery!\" To\nsome there seemed no cause, but others thought that the viper who\nhad slain his mother, was entangling the daughter of Tyndareus in\nthe toils of his snare.\nCHORUS And where wert thou the while? fled long before in terror?\nPHRYGIAN It happened that I, in Phrygian style, was wafting the breeze\npast Helen's curls with a round feather-fan, stationed before her\nface; and she the while, as eastern ladies use, was twisting flax\non her distaff with her fingers, but letting her yarn fall on the\nfloor, for she was minded to embroider purple raiment as an offering\nfrom the Trojan spoils, a gift for Clytemnestra at her tomb.\nThen to the Spartan maid Orestes spake, \"Daughter of Zeus, quit thy\nchair and cross the floor to a seat at the old altar of Pelops, our\nancestor, to hear something I have to say.\" Therewith he led the way\nand she followed, little guessing his designs. Meantime his accomplice,\nthe Phocian miscreant, was off on other business. \"Out of my way!\nWell, Phrygians always were cowards.\" So he shut them up in different\nparts of the house, some in the stables, others in private chambers,\none here, one there, disposing of them severally at a distance from\ntheir mistress.\nCHORUS What happened next?\nPHRYGIAN Mother of Ida, mighty parent! Oh! the murderous scenes and\nlawless wickedness that I witnessed in the royal palace! They drew\nforth swords from under their purple cloaks, each darting his eye\nall round him in either direction to see that none was near, and then,\nlike boars that range the hills, they stood at bay before her, crying,\n\"Thou must die; it is thy craven husband that will slay thee, because\nhe betrayed his brother's son to death in Argos.\" But she with piercing\nscreams brought down her snow-white arm upon her bosom and loudly\nsmote on her poor head; then turned her steps in flight, shod in her\ngolden shoon; but Orestes, outstripping her slippered feet, clutched\nhis fingers in her hair and bending back her neck on to her left shoulder\nwas on the point of driving the grim steel into her throat.\nCHORUS Where were those Phrygians in the house to help her then?\nPHRYGIAN With a loud cry we battered down the doors and doorposts\nof the rooms we had been penned in, by means of bars, and ran to her\nassistance from every direction, one arming himself with stones, another\nwith javelins, a third having a drawn sword; but Pylades came to meet\nus, all undaunted, like Hector of Troy or Ajax triple-plumed, as I\nsaw him on the threshold of Priam's palace; and we met point to point.\nBut then it became most manifest how inferior we Phrygians were to\nthe warriors of Hellas in martial prowess. There was one man flying,\nanother slain, a third wounded, yet another craving mercy to stave\noff death; but we escaped under cover of the darkness: while some\nwere falling, others staggering, and some laid low in death. And just\nas her unhappy mother sunk to the ground to die, came luckless Hermione\nto the palace; whereon those twain, like Bacchanals when they drop\ntheir wands and seize a mountain-cub, rushed and seized her; then\nturned again to the daughter of Zeus to slay her; but lo! she had\nvanished from the room, passing right through the house by magic spells\nor wizards'arts or heavenly fraud; O Zeus and earth, O day and night!\nWhat happened afterwards I know not, for I stole out of the palace\nand ran away. So Menelaus went through all his toil and trouble to\nrecover his wife Helen from Troy to no purpose. (ORESTES comes out\nof the palace.)\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Behold another strange sight succeeding its\npredecessors; I see Orestes sword in hand before the palace, advancing\nwith excited steps.\nORESTES Where is he who fled from the palace to escape my sword?\nPHRYGIAN (falling at the feet Of ORESTES) Before thee I prostrate\nmyself, O prince, and do obeisance in my foreign way.\nORESTES 'Tis not Ilium that is now the scene, but the land of Argos.\nPHRYGIAN No matter where, the wise love life more than death.\nORESTES I suppose that shouting of thine was not for Menelaus to\ncome to the rescue?\nPHRYGIAN Oh no! it was to help thee I called out, for thou art more\ndeserving.\nORESTES Was it a just fate that overtook the daughter of Tyndareus?\nPHRYGIAN Most just, though she had had throats to die with.\nORESTES Thy cowardice makes thee glib; these are not thy real sentiments.\nPHRYGIAN Why, surely she deserved it for the havoc she made of Hellas\nas well as Troy?\nORESTES Swear thou art not saying this to humour me, or I will slay\nthee.\nPHRYGIAN By my life I swear,-an oath likely to be true in my case.\nORESTES Did every Phrygian in Troy show the same terror of steel\nas thou dost?\nPHRYGIAN Oh, take thy sword away! held so near it throws a horrid\ngleam of blood.\nORESTES Art thou afraid of being turned to a stone, as if it were\na Gorgon thou seest?\nPHRYGIAN To a stone, no! but to a corpse; that Gorgon's head is not\nwithin my ken.\nORESTES A slave, and so fearful of death, which will release thee\nfrom trouble!\nPHRYGIAN Bond or free, every one is glad to gaze upon the light.\nORESTES Well said! thy shrewdness saves thee; go within.\nPHRYGIAN Thou wilt not kill me after all?\nORESTES Thou art spared!\nPHRYGIAN O gracious words!\nORESTES Come, I shall change my mind-\nPHRYGIAN Ill-omened utterance!\nORESTES Thou fool dost think I could endure to plunge my sword in\nthroat of thine, thou that neither art woman nor amongst men hast\nany place? The reason I left the palace was to gag thy noisy tongue;\nfor Argos is quickly roused, once it hears a cry to the rescue. As\nfor Menelaus, we are not afraid of measuring swords with him; no!\nhe may go upon his way proud of the golden ringlets on his shoulders;\nfor if, to avenge the slaying of Helen, he gathers the Argives and\nleads them against the palace, refusing to attempt the rescue of me,\nmy sister, and Pylades my fellow-conspirator, he shall have two corpses\nto behold, his daughter's as well as his wife's. (The PHRYGIAN departs\nas ORESTES re-enters the palace.)\nCHORUS (singing) Ah! fortune, fortune! again and yet again the house\nis entering on a fearful contest for the race of Atreus.\nFIRST SEMI-CHORUS (chanting) What are we to do? carry tidings to\nthe town, or hold our peace?\nSECOND SEMI-CHORUS (chanting) It is safer to keep silence, friends.\nFIRST SEMI-CHORUS (chanting) Look, look at that sudden rush of smoke\nto the sky in front of the palace, telling its tale in advance!\nSECOND SEMI-CHORUS (chanting) They are kindling torches to fire\nthe halls of Tantalus; they do not shrink even from murder.\nCHORUS (singing) God holds the issue in his hand, to give to mortal\nmen what end he will. Some mighty power is his; it was through a vengeful\nfiend that this family started on its career of murder, by hurling\nMyrtilus from the chariot.\nBut lo! I see Menelaus approaching the palace in hot haste; no doubt\nhe has heard what is happening here. What ho! within, descendants\nof Atreus, make haste and secure the doors with bars. A man in luck\nis a dangerous adversary for luckless wretches like thyself, Orestes.\n(ORESTES and PYLADES appear on the roof, holding HERMIONE. MENELAUS\nand his attendants enter.)\nMENELAUS Strange news of violent deeds done by a pair of savages,-men\nI do not call them,-has brought me hither. What I heard was that my\nwife was not killed after all, but had vanished out of sight,-an idle\nrumour doubtless, brought to me by some dupe of his own terror; a\nruse perhaps of the matricide to turn the laugh against me.\nThrow wide the palace doors! My orders to my servants are that they\nforce the doors, that I may rescue my child at any rate from the hands\nof the murderers and recover my poor wife's corpse, that dear partner\nwhose slayers must die with her by my arm.\nORESTES (from the roof) Ho, fellow! Keep thy fingers off those bolts,\nthou Menelaus, who vauntest thyself so high; else will I tear off\nthe ancient parapet, the work of masons, and shatter thy skull with\nthis coping-stone. The doors are bolted and barred, which will prevent\nthy entrance to the palace and thy eagerness to bring aid.\nMENELAUS Ha! what now? I see a blaze of torches and men standing\nat bay on the house-top yonder, with a sword held at my daughter's\nthroat.\nORESTES Wouldst question me or hear me speak?\nMENELAUS Neither; but I suppose I must hear thee.\nORESTES Well, if thou art anxious to know, I intend to slay thy daughter.\nMENELAUS After slaying Helen, art thou bent on adding another murder?\nORESTES I would I had compassed that, instead of being duped by the\ngods!\nMENELAUS Dost thou deny having slain her, saying this out of wanton\ninsult?\nORESTES Yes, I do deny it to my sorrow. Would God-\nMENELAUS Would God-what? Thou provokest my fears.\nORESTES I had hurled to Hades the pollution of Hellas!\nMENELAUS Surrender my wife's dead body, that I may bury her.\nORESTES Ask the gods for her; but thy daughter I will slay.\nMENELAUS This matricide is bent on adding murder to murder.\nORESTES This champion of his sire, betrayed by thee to death.\nMENELAUS Art thou not content with the stain of the mother's blood\nwhich is on thee?\nORESTES I should not grow tired if I had these wicked women to slay\nfor ever.\nMENELAUS Art thou too, Pylades, a partner in this bloody work?\nORESTES His silence says he is; so my saying it will suffice.\nMENELAUS Not without thy ruing it, unless thou take wings and fly.\nORESTES Fly we never will, but will fire the palace.\nMENELAUS What! wilt thou destroy the home of thy ancestors?\nORESTES To prevent thee getting it I will, offering this maid in\nsacrifice upon its flames.\nMENELAUS Kill her, for thou wilt be punished by me for such a murder.\nORESTES Agreed.\nMENELAUS No, no! refrain!\nORESTES Silence! thy sufferings are just; endure them.\nMENELAUS Pray, is it just that thou shouldst live?\nORESTES And rule a kingdom, yes.\nMENELAUS A kingdom-where?\nORESTES Here in Pelasgian Argos.\nMENELAUS Thou art so well qualified to handle sacred water!\nORESTES And, pray, why not?\nMENELAUS And to slay victims before battle!\nORESTES Well, art thou?\nMENELAUS Yes, my hands are clean.\nORESTES But not thy heart.\nMENELAUS Who would speak to thee?\nORESTES Every man that loves his father.\nMENELAUS And the man who honours his mother?\nORESTES He's a happy man.\nMENELAUS Thou didst not honour thine, at any rate.\nORESTES No, for I delight not in your wicked women.\nMENELAUS Remove that sword from my daughter's throat.\nORESTES Thou art wrong.\nMENELAUS What! wilt slay her?\nORESTES Right once more.\nMENELAUS Ah me! what can I do?\nORESTES Go to the Argives and persuade them-\nMENELAUS To what?\nORESTES Entreat the city that we may not die.\nMENELAUS Otherwise, will ye slay my child?\nORESTES That is the alternative.\nMENELAUS Alas for thee, Helen!\nORESTES And is it not \"alas!\" for me?\nMENELAUS I brought her back from Troy only for thee to butcher.\nORESTES Would I had!\nMENELAUS After troubles innumerable.\nORESTES Except where I was concerned.\nMENELAUS Dread treatment mine!\nORESTES The reason being thy refusal to help me then?\nMENELAUS Thou hast me.\nORESTES Thy own cowardice has. (Calling from the roof to ELECTRA)\nHo there! fire the palace from beneath, Electra; and, Pylades, my\ntrusty friend, kindle the parapet of yonder walls. (The palace is\nseen to be ablaze.)\nMENELAUS Help, help, ye Danai! gird on your harness and come, ye\ndwellers in knightly Argos! for here is a fellow trying to wrest his\nlife from your whole city, though he has caused pollution by shedding\nhis mother's blood. (APOLLO appears from above with HELEN.)\nAPOLLO Menelaus, calm thy excited mood; I am Phoebus, the son of\nLatona, who draw nigh to call thee by name, and thou no less, Orestes,\nwho, sword in hand, art keeping guard on yonder maid, that thou mayst\nhear what have come to say. Helen, whom all thy eagerness failed to\ndestroy, when thou wert seeking to anger Menelaus, is here as ye see\nin the enfolding air, rescued from death instead of slain by thee.\n'Twas I that saved her and snatched her from beneath thy sword at\nthe bidding of her father Zeus; for she his child must put on immortality,\nand take her place with Castor and Polydeuces in the bosom of the\nsky, a saviour to mariners. Choose thee then another bride and take\nher to thy home, for the gods by means of Helen's loveliness embroiled\nTroy and Hellas, causing death thereby, that they might lighten mother\nEarth of the outrage done her by the increase of man's number. Such\nis Helen's end.\nBut as for thee, Orestes, thou must cross the frontier of this land\nand dwell for one whole year on Parrhasian soil, which from thy flight\nthither shall be called the land of Orestes by Azanians and Arcadians;\nand when thou returnest thence to the city of Athens, submit to be\nbrought to trial by \"the Avenging Three\" for thy mother's murder,\nfor the gods will be umpires between you and will pass a most righteous\nsentence on thee upon the hill of Ares, where thou art to win thy\ncase. Likewise, it is ordained, Orestes, that thou shalt wed Hermione,\nat whose neck thou art pointing thy sword; Neoptolemus shall never\nmarry her, though he thinks he will; for his death is fated to o'ertake\nhim by a Delphian sword, when he claims satisfaction of me for the\ndeath of his father Achilles. Bestow thy sister's hand on Pylades,\nto whom thou didst formerly promise her; the life awaiting him henceforth\nis one of bliss.\nMenelaus, leave Orestes to rule Argos; go thou and reign oer Sparta,\nkeeping it as the dowry of a wife, who till this day ne'er ceased\nexposing thee to toils innumerable. Between Orestes and the citizens,\nI, who forced his mother's murder on him, will bring about a reconciliation.\nORESTES Hail to thee, prophetic Loxias, for these thy utterances!\nThou art not a lying prophet after all, but a true seer; and yet there\ncame a dreadful thought into my heart that it was some fiend I had\nlistened to, when seemed to hear thy voice; but all is ending well,\nand I obey thy word. There! I release Hermione from a violent death\nand agree to make her my wife whenever her father gives consent.\nMENELAUS All hail, Helen, daughter of Zeus! I wish thee joy of thy\nhome in heaven's happy courts. To thee, Orestes, I betroth my daughter\naccording to the word of Phoebus, and good luck attend thee, a noble\nwooer nobly wived, and me the parent of thy bride!\nAPOLLO Repair each one to the place appointed by me; reconcile all\nstrife.\nMENELAUS Obedience is a duty.\nORESTES I think thus also, Menelaus; so here I make a truce with\nsorrow and with thy oracles, O Loxias.\nAPOLLO (chanting) Go your ways, and honour Peace, most fair of goddesses;\nI, meantime, will escort Helen to the mansions of Zeus, soon as I\nreach the star-lit firmament. There, seated side by side with Hera\nand Hebe, the bride of Heracles, she shall be honoured by men with\ndrink-offerings as a goddess for ever, sharing with those Zeus-born\nsons of Tyndareus their empire o'er the sea, for the good of mariners.\n(APOLLO and HELEN vanish.)\nCHORUS (chanting) Hail! majestic Victory, still in thy keeping hold\nmy life and ne'er withhold the crown!\nTHE END","title":"Orestes, By Euripides","type":"page"}