{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/soph/ajax.htm","path":"cla/soph/ajax.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/soph/ajax.htm","text":"Dramatis Personae\nATHENA\nODYSSEUS\nAJAX\nCHORUS OF SALAMINIANS\nTECMESSA, concubine of AJAX\nMESSENGER\nTEUCER, half-brother of AJAX\nMENELAUS\nAGAMEMNON\nMute Persons\nEURYSACES, child of AJAX and TECMESSA\nAttendants, Heralds, etc.\nBefore the tent of AJAX in the Greek camp at Troy. It is dawn. ODYSSEUS\nis discovered examining the ground before the tent. ATHENA appears\nfrom above.\nATHENA Son of Laertes, ever do I behold thee\nScheming to snatch some vantage o'er thy foes.\nAnd now among the tents that guard the ships\nOf Ajax, camped at the army's outmost verge,\nLong have I watched thee hunting in his trail,\nAnd scanning his fresh prints, to learn if now\nHe be within or forth. Skilled in the chase\nThou seemest, as a keen-nosed Spartan hound.\nFor the man but now has passed within, his face\nAnd slaughterous hands streaming with sweat and blood.\nNo further need for thee to peer about\nInside these doors. But say what eager quest\nIs thine, that I who know may give thee light.\nODYSSEUS Voice of Athena, dearest of Gods to me,\nHow clearly, though thou be invisible,\nDo I hear thy call, and seize it with my soul,\nAs when a bronze-mouthed Tyrrhene trumpet sounds!\nRightly thou judgest that on a foe's trail,\nBroad-shielded Ajax, I range to and fro.\nHim, and no other, I have long been tracking.\nThis very night against us he has wrought\nA deed incredible, if in truth 'tis he.\nFor we know nothing sure, but drift in doubt.\nGladly I assumed the burden of this task.\nFor not long since we found that our whole spoil\nHad been destroyed, both herds and flocks, slaughtered\nBy some man's hand, their guardians dead beside them.\nNow 'tis on him that all men lay this guilt:\nAnd a scout who had seen him swiftly bounding\nAcross the plain alone with reeking sword,\nInformed me and bore witness. I forthwith,\nDarting in hot chase, now pick out his tracks,\nBut now, bewildered, know not whose they are.\nTimely thou comest. As in past days, so\nIn days to come I am guided by thy hand.\nATHENA I know it, Odysseus: so on the path betimes\nA sentinel friendly to thy chase I came.\nODYSSEUS Dear mistress, do I labour to good purpose?\nATHENA Know 'twas by yonder man these deeds were wrought.\nODYSSEUS And why did he so brandish a frenzied hand?\nATHENA In grievous wrath for Achilles' panoply.\nODYSSEUS Why then upon the flocks did he make this onslaught?\nATHENA Your blood he deemed it was that stained his hand.\nODYSSEUS Was this outrage designed against the Greeks?\nATHENA He had achieved it too, but for my vigilance.\nODYSSEUS What bold scheme could inspire such reckless daring?\nATHENA By night he meant to steal on you alone.\nODYSSEUS Did he come near us? Did he reach his goal?\nATHENA He stood already at the two chiefs' doors.\nODYSSEUS What then withheld his eager hand from bloodshed?\nATHENA 'Twas I restrained him, casting on his eyes\nO'ermastering notions of that baneful ecstasy,\nThat turned his rage on flocks and mingled droves\nOf booty yet unshared, guarded by herdsmen.\nThen plunging amid the thronging horns he slew,\nSmiting on all sides; and one while he fancied\nThe Atreidae were the captives he was slaughtering,\nNow 'twas some other chief on whom he fell.\nAnd I, while thus he raved in maniac throes,\nUrged him on, drove him into the baleful toils.\nThereafter, when he had wearied of such labours,\nHe bound with thongs such oxen as yet lived,\nWith all the sheep, and drove them to his tents,\nAs though his spoil were men, not horned cattle.\nNow lashed together in the hut he tortures them.\nBut to thee too will I expose this madness,\nThat seeing thou mayst proclaim it to all the Greeks.\nBoldly await him here, nor apprehend\nMischance; for I will turn aside his eyes,\nFoiling his vision lest he see thy face. (She calls to AJAX within\nthe tent.) Hearken, thou who art pinioning with cords\nThe wrists of captives; hither, I bid thee, come.\nThou, Ajax, hear me: come to thy tent's door.\nODYSSEUS What dost thou, Athena? Do not summon him forth.\nATHENA Abide in silence. Earn not the name of coward.\nODYSSEUS Nay, by the Gods, let him remain within.\nATHENA What dost thou dread? Was he not once a man?\nODYSSEUS Yes, and to me a foeman, and still is.\nATHENA To mock foes, is not that the sweetest mockery?\nODYSSEUS I am content he should remain indoors.\nATHENA To look upon a madman art thou afeard?\nODYSSEUS Had he been sane, no fear had made me shrink.\nATHENA Even now he shall not see thee, near as thou art.\nODYSSEUS How so, if still with the same eyes he sees?\nATHENA His orbs will I make dark, though vision is theirs.\nODYSSEUS Well, all is possible, when 'tis a god contrives.\nATHENA Stand then silent, abiding as thou art.\nODYSSEUS Stay I must; yet I fain would be far hence.\nATHENA Ho, Ajax! Once again I summon thee.\nSo slight is thy regard for thine ally? (AJAX appears in the tent\ndoor, with a blood-stained scourge in his hand.)\nAJAX Oh hail, Athena! Hail thou Zeus-born maid!\nNobly hast thou stood by me. Now will I crown thee\nWith trophies all of gold for this rich conquest.\nATHENA Thy words are welcome. But now tell me this:\nHast thou dyed well thy sword in the Argive host?\nAJAX Such vaunt is mine. I disclaim not that glory.\nATHENA Against the Atreidae didst thou arm thy hand?\nAJAX So that Ajax nevermore shall they insult.\nATHENA The men are dead, if rightly I take thy meaning.\nAJAX Yes, dead. Now let them rob me of my arms.\nATHENA 'Tis well. And what then of Laertes' son?\nIn what plight does he stand? Or has he escaped thee?\nAJAX Wouldst thou know where is that accursed fox?\nATHENA Even so-Odysseus, thine old adversary.\nAJAX Goddess, a most dear captive in my tent\nHe sits. I do not mean him to die yet.\nATHENA Till thou hast done what, gained what further vantage?\nAJAX Till bound fast to a pillar beneath my roof-\nATHENA What evil wilt thou inflict on the poor wretch?\nAJAX His back the scourge must crimson ere he dies.\nATHENA Nay, do not torture so the wretched man.\nAJAX Athena, in all else will I do thy will;\nBut his shall be no other doom than this.\nATHENA Thou then, since thy delight is to act thus,\nSmite, spare not, abate nought of thy intent.\nAJAX To my work I return: and thus I charge thee,\nAs now, so always fight thou upon my side. (AJAX goes back into the\ntent.)\nATHENA Seest thou, Odysseus, how great the strength of gods?\nWhom couldst thou find more prudent than this man,\nOr whom in act more valiant, when need called?\nODYSSEUS I know none nobler; and I pity him\nIn his misery, albeit he is my foe,\nSince he is yoked fast to an evil doom.\nMy own lot I regard no less than his.\nFor I see well, nought else are we but mere\nPhantoms, all we that live, mere fleeting shadows.\nATHENA Warned therefore by his fate, never do thou\nThyself utter proud words against the gods;\nNor swell with insolence, if thou shouldst vanquish\nSome rival by main strength or by wealth's power.\nFor a day can bring all mortal greatness low,\nAnd a day can lift it up. But the gods love\nThe wise of heart, the froward they abhor. (ATHENA vanishes and ODYSSEUS\ndeparts. The CHORUS OF SALAMINIANS enters.)\nCHORUS (singing) Son of Telamon, lord of Salamis' isle,\nOn its wave-washed throne mid the breaking sea,\nI rejoice when fair are thy fortunes:\nBut whene'er thou art smitten by the stroke of Zeus,\nOr the vehement blame of the fierce-tongued Greeks,\nThen sore am I grieved, and for fear I quake,\nAs a fluttering dove with a scared eye.\nEven so by rumour murmuring loud\nOf the night late-spent our ears are assailed.\n'Tis a tale of shame, how thou on the plains\nWhere the steeds roam wild, didst ruin the Danaan\nFlocks and herds,\nOur spear-won booty as yet unshared,\nWith bright sword smiting and slaughtering.\nSuch now are the slanders Odysseus forges\nAnd whispers abroad into all men's ears,\nWinning easy belief: so specious the tale\nHe is spreading against thee; and each new hearer\nRejoices more than he who told,\nExulting in thy degradation.\nFor the shaft that is aimed at the noble of soul\nSmites home without fail: but whoe'er should accuse me\nOf such misdeeds, no faith would he win.\n'Tis the stronger whom creeping jealousy strikes.\nYet small men reft of help from the mighty\nCan ill be trusted to guard their walls.\nBest prosper the lowly in league with the great;\nAnd the great have need to be served by the less.\nBut none to the knowledge of such plain truths\nMay lead minds witless and froward.\nEven such are the men who murmur against thee:\nAnd vainly without thine aid, O King,\nWe strive to repel their accusing hate.\nFor whene'er they are safe from the scorn of thy glance,\nThey chatter and screech like bids in a flock:\nBut smitten with dread of the powerful vulture,\nDoubtless at once, should'st thou but appear,\nThey will cower down dumbly in silence.\n(strophe)\nWas it the Tauric Olympian Artemis,\n(Oh, the dread rumour of woe,\nParent of my grievous shame!)\nWho drove thee forth to slaughter the herds of the people,\nIn wrath perchance for some unpaid-for victory,\nWhether defrauded of glorious spoil, or offerings\nDue for a stag that was slain?\nOr did the bronze-clad Demon of battle, aggrieved\nOn him who scorned the might of his succouring spear,\nPlot revenge by nightly deception?\n(antistrophe)\nNe'er of itself had thy heart, son of Telamon,\nStrayed into folly so far\nAs to murder flocks and herds.\nEscape from heaven-sent madness is none: yet Apollo\nAnd Zeus avert these evil rumours of the Greeks.\nBut should the story be false, these crafty slanders\nSpread by the powerful kings,\nAnd by the child of the infamous Sisyphid line,\nNo more, my master, thus in the tent by the sea\nHide thy countenance, earning an ill fame.\n(epode)\nNay, but arise from thy seat, where'er so long wrapt in\nBrooding pause from the battle thou hast lurked: arise,\nHeaven-high kindle the flame of death.\nBut the insolence of thy foes boldly\nThus wanders abroad in the wind-swept glens.\nMeanwhile all men mocking\nWith venomous tongues taunt thee:\nBut grief in my heart wanes not. (TECMESSA enters. The following\nlines between TECMESSA and the CHORUS are chanted responsively.)\nTECMESSA Liegemen of Ajax, ship-companions,\nYe children of earth-sprung Erechthid race,\nLamentation is now our portion, to whom\nDear is the far-off house of Telamon,\nNow that the stern and terrible Ajax\nLies whelmed by a storm\nOf turbid wildering fury.\nCHORUS To what evil change from the day's woe now\nHas night given birth?\nThou daughter of Phrygian Teleutas, speak;\nFor a constant love has valiant Ajax\nBorne thee, his spear-won prisoner bride.\nThen hide from us nought that thou knowest.\nTECMESSA How to utter a tale of unspeakable things!\nFor disastrous as death is the hap you will hear.\nIn the darkness of night madness has seized\nOur glorious Ajax: he is ruined and lost.\nHereof in the tent may proof be seen;\nSword-slain victims in their own blood bathed,\nBy his hand sacrificially slaughtered.\nCHORUS (strophe)\nWhat tidings of the fiery warrior tellest thou,\nNot to be borne, nor yet to be disputed,\nRumoured abroad by the chiefs of the Danaan host,\nMightily still spreading and waxing!\nWoe's me! I dread the horror to come. Yea, to a public death doomed\nWill he die, if in truth his be the hand that wielded\nThe red sword that in frenzy hath slain the herds and mounted herdsmen.\nTECMESSA Ah me! Thence was it, thence that he came to me\nLeading his captive flock from the pastures!\nThereof in the tent some did he slaughter,\nOthers hewed he asunder with slashing sword;\nThen he caught up amain two white-footed rams,\nSliced off from the one both the head and the tongue,\nAnd flings them away;\nBut the other upright to a pillar he binds,\nThen seizing a heavy horse-harnessing thong\nHe smites with the whistling doubled lash,\nUttering fierce taunts which an evil fiend\nNo mere mortal could have taught him.\nCHORUS (antistrophe)\n'Tis time that now each with shamefully muffled head\nForth from the camp should creep with stealthy footsteps.\nNay, on the ship let us muster, and benched at the oars\nOver the waves launch her in swift flight.\nSuch angry threats sound in our ears hurled by the brother princes,\nThe Atreidae: and I quake, fearing a death by stoning,\nThe dread portion of all who would share our hapless master's ruin.\nTECMESSA Yet hope we: for ceased is the lightning's flash:\nHis rage dies down like a fierce south-wind.\nBut now, grown sane, new misery is his;\nFor on woes self-wrought he gazes aghast,\nWherein no hand but his own had share;\nAnd with anguish his soul is afflicted.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Nay, if 'tis ceased, there is good cause to\nhope.\nOnce 'tis past, of less moment is his frenzy.\nTECMESSA And which, were the choice thine, wouldst thou prefer,\nTo afflict thy friends and feel delight thyself,\nOr to share sorrow, grieving with their grief?\nLEADER The twofold woe, lady, would be the greater.\nTECMESSA Then we, though plagued no more, are undone now.\nLEADER What mean thy words? Their sense is dark to me.\nTECMESSA Yonder man, while his spirit was diseased,\nHimself had joy in his own evil plight,\nThough to us, who were sane, he brought distress.\nBut now, since he has respite from his plague,\nHe with sore grief is utterly cast down,\nAnd we likewise, no less than heretofore.\nAre there not here two woes instead of one?\nLEADER Yes truly. And I fear, from some god came\nThis stroke; how else? if, now his frenzy is ceased,\nHis mind has no more ease than when it raged.\nTECMESSA 'Tis even as I said, rest well assured.\nLEADER But how did this bane first alight upon him?\nTo us who share thy grief show what befell.\nTECMESSA Thou shalt hear all, as though thou hadst been present.\nIn the middle of the night, when the evening braziers\nNo longer flared, he took a two-edged sword,\nAnd fain would sally upon an empty quest.\nBut I rebuked him, saying: \"What doest thou,\nAjax? Why thus uncalled wouldst thou go forth?\nNo messenger has summoned thee, no trumpet\nRoused thee. Nay, the whole camp is sleeping still.\"\nBut curtly he replied in well-worn phrase:\n\"Woman, silence is the grace of woman.\"\nThus schooled, I yielded; and he rushed out alone.\nWhat passed outside the tent, I cannot tell.\nBut in he came, driving lashed together\nBulls, and shepherd dogs, and fleecy prey.\nSome he beheaded, the wrenched-back throats of some\nHe slit, or cleft their chines; others he bound\nAnd tortured, as though men they were, not beasts.\nLast, darting through the doors, as to some phantom\nHe tossed words, now against the Atreidae, now\nTaunting Odysseus, piling up huge jeers\nOf how he had gone and wreaked his scorn upon them.\nSoon he rushed back within the tent, where slowly\nAnd hardly to his reason he returned.\nAnd gazing round on the room filled with havoc,\nHe struck his head and cried out; then amidst\nThe wrecks of slaughtered sheep a wreck he fell,\nAnd sat clutching his hair with tight-clenched nails.\nThere first for a long while he crouched speechless;\nThen did he threaten me with fearful threats,\nIf I revealed not all that had befallen him,\nAsking what meant the plight wherein he lay.\nAnd I, friends, terror-stricken, told him all\nThat had been done, so far as I had knowledge.\nForthwith he broke forth into bitter wailing,\nSuch as I ne'er had heard from him before\nFor always had he held that such laments\nBefitted cowards only, and low-souled men:\nBut uttering no shrill cries, he would express\nHis grief in low groans, as of a moaning bull.\nBut now prostrate beneath so great a woe,\nNot tasting food nor drink, he sits among\nThe sword-slain beasts, motionless where he sank.\nAnd plainly he meditates some baleful deed,\nFor so portend his words and lamentations.\nBut, O friends!-'twas for this cause I came forth-\nEnter and help, if help at all you can:\nFor by friends' words men so bestead are won.\nLEADER Child of Teleutas, fearful are thy tidings,\nThat our prince has been maddened by his griefs.\nAJAX (within) Alas! Woe, woe!\nTECMESSA Soon, I fear, worse will follow. Heard you not?\n'Twas Ajax. Oh, how dreadful was that cry.\nAJAX Alas! Woe, woe!\nLEADER He seems either still frenzied, or else grieving\nFor his past frenzies, now he sees their work.\nAJAX Alas! My son, my son!\nTECMESSA Woe's me! Eurysaces, 'tis for thee he calls.\nWhat can he purpose?-Where art thou?-Ah, woe!\nAJAX Teucer, come!-Where is Teucer? Will he never\nCome back from cattle-raiding?-while I perish!\nLEADER He seems in his right mind. But open the doors.\nPerhaps even the sight of me may sober him. (She opens the doors\nof the tent. AJAX is revealed sitting among the slain beasts.)\nTECMESSA See, I have opened. You may now behold\nWhat he has done, and in what plight he lies.\nAJAX (chanting) Alas!\nMy shipmates and friends, you that alone to me\nLoyal and true remain, of all friends alone,\nBehold how great a billow lately rising from the storm of blood\nSurging around engulphs me!\nLEADER Ah me, too true, it seems, was thy report.\nThis sight reveals the work of no sane mind.\nAJAX (chanting) Alas!\nMy mates, skilled and tried in brave seamanship,\nYe who embarking drove the wave-cleaving oar,\nIn you, in you alone I see a help and refuge from despair.\nSmite me, and spill my blood too.\nLEADER Keep silence from dread words; nor curing ill\nBy ill, so swell the misery of this curse.\nAJAX (chanting) Behold now the bold, the man stout of heart,\nWho ne'er shrank in fight against foes-behold\nHow I have spent my rage on beasts that feared no harm!\nAh me, the mockery! To what shame am I brought low\nTECMESSA Ajax, my master, I entreat thee, speak not so.\nAJAX (chanting) Away hence, I command thee! Take thyself elsewhere.\nAiai! Aiai!\nLEADER Oh, by the Gods, we pray thee, yield to wisdom's voice.\nAJAX (chanting) Oh, wretch that I was to allow\nThose cursed foes to slip from my hands, and assaulting\nHorned kine and goodly flocks, madly to spill\nTheir life in streams of dark blood!\nLEADER Why still be afflicted, now the deed is done past cure?\nNever can these things be as though they had not been.\nAJAX (chanting) Thou all-spying knave, of all deeds of shame\nThe prompt, easy tool, Odysseus the wise!\nVillain, of all the camp the most foul and vile!\nHuge laughter doubtless shakes thee now for sheer delight.\nLEADER As God appoints, so every man laughs or laments.\nAJAX (chanting) Would I might meet him, crushed and broken though\nI be.\nAlas! Woe, woe!\nLEADER Speak no proud words. Seest thou not to what woe thou art\nsunk?\nAJAX (chanting) O Zeus, of my fathers the sire,\nMight I but kill that hateful and crafty dissembler,\nYea, and those two brother kings, partners in pride,\nThen last myself too perish!\nTECMESSA If thus thou prayest, pray therewith for me, that\nDie with thee. Why, when thou art dead, should I live on?\nAJAX (chanting) Alas!\nShadow that art my light!\nErebus, oh to me verily bright as day!\nReceive, receive me your habitant.\nReceive me now no more worthy to seek help of the gods,\nNor any more from fellow mortal men to claim kindness:\nNo, but she the strong\nZeus-born deity\nMiserably tortures me.\nWhither should I then flee?\nWhither seek for rest?\nSince my former glory is gone, my friends,\nWith yonder victims, yonder spoils by frenzy won,\nSince all the host with swords uplifted\nSternly would slay me,\nTECMESSA Ah, woe is me! from such a noble warrior\nTo hear such words as once he ne'er had deigned to speak!\nAJAX (chanting) Alas!\nBillowy paths of foam,\nEddying caves, and ye coppices by the shore,\nA weary, weary time tarrying here\nBeneath the walls of Troy me have you kept, but from this hour\nAlive you shall not keep me. Truth I speak: let none doubt it.\nO Scamander's wave,\nStream whose neighbouring flow\nOft have the Argives blest,\nNever, nevermore\nMe shall you behold,\nMe (a proud word will I utter now)\nWhose peer in battle Troy has never seen yet come\nFrom Hellas' land: but now dishonoured\nThus am I prostrate.\nLEADER In truth I know not how to restrain thy speech, nor yet\nTo suffer it; so grievous is thy couch of woe.\nAJAX Aiai! Who ever would have thought my name\nWould harmonise so aptly with my woes?\nFor now well may I wail that sound out twice,\nYea thrice; such woeful destinies are mine,\nWhose father from this land of Ida won\nFame's noblest guerdon over the whole host,\nAnd crowned with praises only sailed back home;\nBut I, his son, who to the self-same Troy\nCame after him, in might no less than he,\nNor rendering meaner service by my deeds,\nDishonoured by the Argives perish thus.\nYet this methinks I know for truth, were now\nAchilles living and called on to adjudge\nAs the award of valour his own arms,\nNo man's hand would have grasped them before mine.\nBut now the Atreidae to a scheming knave\nHave dealt them, thrusting by my valiant deeds.\nAnd if these eyes, these wits had not in frenzy\nSwerved from my purpose, never would they thus\nPervert judgment against another man.\nBut the irresistible fierce-eyed goddess, even\nAs I was arming my right hand to slay them,\nFoiled me, smiting me with a maddening plague,\nSo that I stained my hand butchering these cattle.\nThus my foes mock me, escaped beyond my reach,\nThrough no goodwill of mine: but if a god\nThwart vengeance, even the base may escape the nobler.\nAnd what should I now do, who manifestly\nTo Heaven am hateful; whom the Greeks abhor,\nWhom every Trojan hates, and this whole land?\nShall I desert the beached ships, and abandoning\nThe Atreidae, sail home o'er the Aegean sea?\nWith what face shall I appear before my father\nTelamon? How will he find heart to look\nOn me, stripped of my championship in war,\nThat mighty crown of fame that once was his?\nNo, that I dare not. Shall I then assault\nTroy's fortress, and alone against them all\nAchieve some glorious exploit and then die?\nNo, I might gratify the Atreidae thus.\nThat must not be. Some scheme let me devise\nWhich may prove to my aged sire that I,\nHis son, at least by nature am no coward.\nFor 'tis base for a man to crave long life\nWho endures never-varying misery.\nWhat joy can be in day that follows day,\nBringing us close then snatching us from death?\nAs of no worth would I esteem that man\nWho warms himself with unsubstantial hopes.\nNobly to live, or else nobly to die\nBefits proud birth. There is no more to say.\nLEADER The word thou hast uttered, Ajax, none shall call\nBastard, but the true offspring of thy soul.\nYet pause. Let those who love thee overrule\nThy resolution. Put such thoughts aside.\nTECMESSA O my lord Ajax, of all human ills\nGreatest is fortune's wayward tyranny.\nOf a free father was I born the child,\nOne rich and great as any Phrygian else.\nNow am I a slave; for so the gods, or rather\nThy warrior's hand, would have it. Therefore since\nI am thy bedfellow, I wish thee well,\nAnd I entreat thee by domestic Zeus,\nAnd by the embraces that have made me thine,\nDoom me not to the cruel taunts of those\nWho hate thee, left a bond-slave in strange hands.\nFor shouldst thou perish and forsake me in death,\nThat very day assuredly I to\nShall be seized by the Argives, with thy son\nTo endure henceforth the portion of a slave.\nThen one of my new masters with barbed words\nShall wound me scoffing: \"See the concubine\nOf Ajax, who was mightiest of the host,\nWhat servile tasks are hers who lived so daintily!\"\nThus will men speak, embittering my hard lot,\nBut words of shame for thee and for thy race.\nNay, piety forbid thee to forsake\nThy father in his drear old age-thy mother\nWith her sad weight of years, who many a time\nPrays to the gods that thou come home alive.\nAnd pity, O king, thy son, who without thee\nTo foster his youth, must live the orphaned ward\nOf loveless guardians. Think how great a sorrow\nDying thou wilt bequeath to him and me.\nFor I have nothing left to look to more\nSave thee. By thy spear was my country ravaged;\nAnd by another stroke did fate lay low\nMy mother and my sire to dwell with Hades.\nWithout thee then what fatherland were mine?\nWhat wealth? On thee alone rests all my hope.\nO take thought for me too. Do we not owe\nRemembrance, where we have met with any joy?\nFor kindness begets kindness evermore\nBut he who from whose mind fades the memory\nOf benefits, noble is he no more.\nLEADER Ajax, would that thy soul would feel compassion,\nAs mine does; so wouldst thou approve her words.\nAJAX Verily my approval shall she win,\nIf only she find heart to do my bidding.\nTECMESSA Dear Ajax, in all things will I obey.\nAJAX Then bring me here my son, for I would see him.\nTECMESSA Nay, but I sent him from me in my fears.\nAJAX During my late affliction, is that thy meaning?\nTECMESSA Lest by ill chance he should meet thee and so perish.\nAJAX Yes, that would have been worthy of my fate.\nTECMESSA That at least I was watchful to avert.\nAJAX I praise thine act and the foresight thou hast shown.\nTECMESSA Since that is so, what shall I do to serve thee?\nAJAX Let me speak to him and behold his face.\nTECMESSA He is close by in the attendants' charge.\nAJAX Why is his coming then so long delayed?\nTECMESSA (calling) My son, thy father calls thee.-Bring him thither\nWhichever of you is guiding the child's steps.\nAJAX Is the man coming? Has he heard thy call?\nTECMESSA See, he is here already with the child. (An attendant enters,\nleading the child, EURYSACES.)\nAJAX Lift him up, lift him hither. He will not shrink\nIn terror at sight of yonder new-spilt blood,\nIf he be rightly mine, his father's son.\nEarly must he be broken to his sire's\nStern rugged code, and grow like-natured with him.\nO son, mayst thou prove happier than thy father,\nIn all else like him, and thou'lt prove not base.\nYet even now might I envy thee herein,\nThat of these woes thou hast no sense at all.\nFor the life that is unconscious is most sweet-\nUntil we learn what joy and sorrow are.\nBut that once learnt, then midst thy father's foes\nThou must show what thou art, and of what breed.\nTill then be nurtured on soft airs, cherishing\nThy tender life, and be thy mother's joy.\nNone of the Greeks, I know, will do thee wrong\nWith cruel outrage, even though I be gone.\nSo trusty a guardian will I leave thee, Teucer,\nWho will not stint his loving care, though now\nHe is gone far away, in chase of foes.\nBut you, my warriors, comrades in seafaring,\nOn you too I impose this task of love;\nAnd fail not to announce my will to Teucer,\nThat to my home he take the child and show him\nTo Telamon and my mother Eriboea,\nThat henceforth he may comfort their old age.\nAnd charge him that no game-steward make my arms\nA prize for the Greeks-nor he who ruined me.\nBut this take thou, my son Eurysaces;\nHold it and wield it by its firm-stitched thong,\nThis sevenfold spear-proof shield, whence comes thy name.\nBut else with me my arms shall be interred. (Speaking now to TECMESSA)\nCome, take the child hence quickly, and bolt the doors:\nAnd let there be no weeping and lamenting\nBefore the hut. Women love tears too well.\nClose quickly. It is not for a skilful leech\nTo drone charms o'er a wound that craves the knife.\nLEADER I am fearful, listening to this eager mood.\nThe sharp edge of thy tongue, I like it not.\nTECMESSA O my lord Ajax, what art thou purposing?\nAJAX Question me not. To be discreet is best.\nTECMESSA Ah me, heavy is my heart. Now by thy child,\nBy the gods, I entreat, forsake us not.\nAJAX Vex me no further. Know'st thou not that I\nTo the gods owe no duty any more?\nTECMESSA Utter no proud words.\nAJAX Speak to those who listen.\nTECMESSA Wilt thou not heed?\nAJAX Too much thou hast spoken already.\nTECMESSA Yes, through my fears, O king.\nAJAX Close the doors quickly.\nTECMESSA For the gods' love, relent.\nAJAX 'Tis a foolish hope,\nIf thou shouldst now propose to school my mood. (The doors are closed\nupon AJAX. TECMESSA goes out with EURYSACES.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nO famed Salamis, thou amidst\nBreaking surges abidest ever\nBlissful, a joy to the eyes of all men.\nBut I the while long and wearily tarrying\nThrough countless months still encamped on the fields of Ida\nIn misery here have made my couch,\nBy time broken and worn,\nIn dread waiting the hour\nWhen I shall enter at last the terrible shadow abode of Hades.\n(antistrophe 1)\nNow dismays me a new despair,\nThis incurable frenzy (woe, ah\nWoe's me!) cast by the gods on Ajax,\nWhom thou of old sentest forth from thy shores, a strong\nAnd valiant chief; but now, to his friends a sore grief,\nDevouring his lonely heart he sits.\nHis once glorious deeds\nAre now fallen and scorned,\nFallen to death without love from the loveless and pitiless sons of\nAtreus.\n(strophe 2)\nHis mother, 'tis most like, burdened with many days,\nAnd whitened with old age, when she shall hear how frenzy\nHas smitten his soul to ruin,\nAilinon! ailinon!\nWill break forth her despair, not as the nightingale's\nPlaintive, tender lament, no, but in passion's wailing\nShrill-toned cries; and with fierce strokes\nWildly smiting her bosom,\nIn grief's anguish her hands will rend her grey locks.\n(antistrophe 2)\nYea, better Hell should hide one who is sick in soul,\nThough there be none than he sprung from a nobler lineage\nOf the war-weary Greeks, yet\nStrayed from his inbred mood\nNow amidst alien thoughts dwells he a stranger.\nHapless father! alas, bitter the tale that waits thee,\nThy son's grievous affliction.\nNo life save his alone\nOf Aeacid kings such a curse has ever haunted. (AJAX enters, carrying\na sword. As he speaks, TECMESSA also enters.)\nAJAX All things the long and countless lapse of time\nBrings forth. displays, then hides once more in gloom.\nNought is too strange to look for; but the event\nMay mock the sternest oath, the firmest will.\nThus I, who late so strong, so stubborn seemed\nLike iron dipped, yet now grow soft with pity\nBefore this woman, whom I am loath to leave\nMidst foes a widow with this orphaned child.\nBut I will seek the meadows by the shore:\nThere will I wash and purge these stains, if so\nI may appease Athena's heavy wrath.\nThen will I find some lonely place, where I\nMay hide this sword, beyond all others cursed,\nBuried where none may see it, deep in earth.\nMay night and Hades keep it there below.\nFor from that hour my hand accepted it,\nThe gift of Hector, deadliest of my foes,\nNought from the Greeks towards me hath sped well.\nSo now I find that ancient proverb true,\nFoes' gifts are no gifts: profit bring they none.\nTherefore henceforth I study to obey\nThe Gods, and reverence the sons of Atreus.\nOur rulers are they: we must yield. How else?\nFor to authority yield all things most dread\nAnd mighty. Thus must Winter's snowy feet\nGive place to Summer with her wealth of fruits;\nAnd from her weary round doth Night withdraw,\nThat Day's white steeds may kindle heaven with light.\nAfter fierce tempest calm will ever lull\nThe moaning sea; and Sleep, that masters all,\nBinds life awhile, yet loosens soon the bond.\nAnd who am I that I should not learn wisdom?\nOf all men I, whom proof hath taught of late\nHow so far only should we hate our foes\nAs though we soon might love them, and so far\nDo a friend service, as to one most like\nSome day to prove our foe; since oftenest men\nIn friendship but a faithless haven find.\nThus well am I resolved. (To TECMESSA) Thou, woman, pass\nWithin, and pray the gods that all things so\nMay be accomplished as my heart desires.\nAnd you, friends, heed my wishes as she doth;\nAnd when he comes, bid Teucer he must guard\nMy rights at need, and withal stand your friend.\nFor now I go whither I needs must pass.\nDo as I bid. Soon haply you shall hear,\nWith me, for all this misery, 'tis most well. (AJAX departs. TECMESSA\ngoes into the tent.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe)\nI thrill with rapture, flutter on wings of ecstasy.\nIo, Io, Pan, Pan!\nO Pan, Pan! from the stony ridge,\nSnow-bestrewn of Cyllene's height\nAppear roving across the waters,\nO dance-ordering king of gods,\nThat thou mayst join me in flinging free\nFancy measures of Nysa and of Cnossus.\nYea for the dance I now am eager.\nAnd over the far Icarian billows come, O king Apollo,\nFrom Delos in haste, come thou,\nThy kindly power here in our midst revealing.\n(antistrophe)\nAres hath lifted horror and anguish from our eyes.\nIo, Io! Now again,\nNow, O Zeus, can the bright and blithe\nGlory of happier days return\nTo our swift-voyaging ships, for now\nHath Ajax wholly forgot his grief,\nAnd all rites due to the gods he now\nFain would meetly perform with loyal worship.\nMighty is time to dwindle all things.\nNought would I call too strange for belief, when Ajax thus beyond\nhope\nHath learnt to repent his proud feuds,\nAnd lay aside anger against the Atreidae. (A MESSENGER enters.)\nMESSENGER My friends, these tiding I would tell you first:\nTeucer is present, from the Mysian heights\nBut now returned, and in the central camp\nBy all the Greeks at once is being reviled.\nAs he drew near they knew him from afar,\nThen gathering around him one and all\nWith taunts assailed him from this side and that,\nCalling him kinsman of that maniac,\nThat plotter against the host, saying that nought\nShould save him; stoned and mangled he must die.\nAnd so they had come to such a pitch that swords\nPlucked from their sheaths stood naked in men's hands.\nYet when the strife ran highest, it was stayed\nBy words from the elders and so reconciled.\nBut where is Ajax? I must speak with him.\nHe whom it most concerns must be told all.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS He is not within, but has just now gone forth\nWith a new purpose yoked to a new mood.\nMESSENGER Alas! Alas!\nThen too late on this errand was I sped\nBy him who sent me; or I have proved too slow.\nLEADER What urgent need has been neglected here?\nMESSENGER Teucer forbade that Ajax should go forth\nOutside his hut, till he himself should come.\nLEADER Well, he is gone. To wisest purpose now\nHis mind is turned, to appease heaven's wrath.\nMESSENGER These words of thine are filled with utter folly,\nIf there was truth in Calchas' prophecy.\nLEADER What prophecy? And what know you of this thing?\nMESSENGER Thus much I know, for by chance I was present.\nLeaving the circle of consulting chiefs\nWhere sat the Atreidae, Calchas went aside,\nAnd with kind purpose grasping Teucer's hand\nEnjoined him that by every artifice\nHe should restrain Ajax within his tents\nThis whole day, and not leave him to himself,\nIf he wished ever to behold him alive.\nFor on this day alone, such were his words,\nWould the wrath of divine Athena vex him.\nFor the overweening and unprofitable\nFall crushed by heaven-sent calamities\n(So the seer spoke), whene'er one born a man\nHas conceived thoughts too high for man's estate:\nAnd this man, when he first set forth from home,\nShowed himself foolish, when his father spoke to him\nWisely: \"My son, seek victory by the spear;\nBut seek it always with the help of heaven.\"\nThen boastfully and witlessly he answered:\n\"Father, with heaven's help a mere man of nought\nMight win victory: but I, albeit without\nTheir aid, trust to achieve a victor's glory.\"\nSuch was his proud vaunt. Then a second time\nAnswering divine Athena, when she urged him\nTo turn a slaughterous hand upon his foes,\nHe gave voice to this dire, blasphemous boast:\n\"Goddess, stand thou beside the other Greeks.\nWhere I am stationed, no foe shall break through.\"\nBy such words and such thoughts too great for man\nDid he provoke Athena's pitiless wrath.\nBut if he lives through this one day, perchance,\nShould heaven be willing, we may save him yet.\nSo spoke the seer; and Teucer from his seat\nNo sooner risen, sent me with this mandate\nFor you to observe. But if we have been forestalled,\nThat man lives not, or Calchas is no prophet.\nLEADER (calling) Woful Tecmessa, woman born to sorrow,\nCome forth and hear this man who tells of a peril\nThat grazes us too close for our mind's ease. (TECMESSA enters from\nthe tent.)\nTECMESSA Why alas do you break my rest again\nAfter brief respite from relentless woes?\nLEADER Give hearing to this messenger, who brings\nTidings that grieve me of how Ajax fares.\nTECMESSA Ah me, what sayest thou, man? Are we undone?\nMESSENGER I know not of thy fortune; but for Ajax,\nIf he be gone abroad, my mind misgives.\nTECMESSA Yes, he is gone. I am racked to know thy meaning.\nMESSENGER Teucer commands you to keep him within doors,\nAnd not to let him leave his tent alone.\nTECMESSA And where is Teucer, and why speaks he thus?\nMESSENGER He has but now returned, and he forebodes\nThat this going-forth will prove fatal to Ajax.\nTECMESSA Woe's me, alas! From whom has he learned this?\nMESSENGER From the seer, Thestor's son, this very day,\nWhich is fraught either with his death or life.\nTECMESSA Ah me, my friends, avert this threatening doom\nSpeed some of you to hasten Teucer hither:\nOthers go search the bays, some west, some east,\nAnd track my lord's ill-omened going-forth.\nYes, now I know I have been deceived by him,\nAnd from his former favour quite cast out.\nAlas, child, what shall I do? Sit still I must not:\nBut far as I have strength I too will go.\nLet us start quickly-'tis no time for loitering,\nIf we would save one who is in haste to die.\nLEADER I am ready, as not words alone shall prove,\nBut speed of act and foot to make words good. (The CHORUS, TECMESSA\nand MESSENGER go out. The scene changes to a lonely place by the sea-shore.\nBushes and under- brush are in the background. AJAX enters alone.)\nAJAX The slayer stands so that his edge may cleave\nMost surely (if there be leisure for such thought),\nBeing the gift of Hector, of all friends\nMost unloved, and most hateful to my sight.\nThen it is planted in Troy's hostile soil,\nNew-sharpened on the iron-biting whet.\nAnd heedfully have I planted it, that so\nWith a swift death it prove to me most kind.\nThus have I made all ready. Next be thou\nThe first, O Zeus, to aid me, as is right.\nIt is no mighty boon that I shall crave.\nSend some announcer of the evil news\nTo Teucer, that he first may lift me up,\nWhen I have fallen upon this reeking sword,\nLest ere he come some enemy should espy me\nAnd cast me forth to dogs and birds a prey.\nThis, O Zeus, I entreat thee, and likewise call\nOn Hermes, guide to the underworld, to lay me\nAsleep without a struggle, at one swift bound,\nWhen I have thrust my heart through with this sword.\nNext I call on those maidens ever-living\nAnd ever watchful of all human miseries,\nThe dread swift-striding Erinyes, that they mark\nHow by the Atreidae I have been destroyed:\nAnd these vile men by a vile doom utterly\nMay they cut off, even as they see me here.\nCome, O ye swift avenging Erinyes,\nSpare not, touch with affliction the whole host.\nAnd thou, whose chariot mounts up the steep sky,\nThou Sun, when on the land where I was born\nThou shalt look down, check thy gold-spangled rein,\nAnd announce my disasters and my doom\nTo my aged sire and her who nurtured me.\nShe, woful woman, when she hears these tidings\nWill wail out a loud dirge through all the town.\nBut I waste labour with this idle moan.\nThe act must now be done, and that with speed.\nO Death, Death, come now and look upon me.-\nNo, 'tis there I shall meet and speak to thee.\nBut thee, bright daylight which I now behold,\nAnd Helios in his chariot I accost\nFor this last time of all, and then no more.\nO sunlight! O thou hallowed soil, my own\nSalamis, stablished seat of my sire's hearth,\nAnd famous Athens, with thy kindred race,\nAnd you, ye springs and streams, and Trojan plains,\nFarewell, all ye who have sustained my life.\nThis is the last word Ajax speaks to you.\nAll else in Hades to the dead will I say. (He falls on his sword.\nHis body lies partially concealed by the underbrush. SEMI-CHORUS 1\nenters.)\nSEMI-CHORUS 1 (chanting) 'Tis toil on toil, and toil again.\nWhere! where!\nWhere have not my footsteps been?\nAnd still no place reveals the secret of my search.\nBut hark!\nThere again I hear a sound. (SEMI-CHORUS 2 enters.)\nSEMI-CHORUS 2 (chanting) 'Tis we, the ship-companions of your voyage.\nSEMI-CHORUS 1 (chanting) Well how now?\nSEMI-CHORUS 2 (chanting) We have searched the whole coast westward\nfrom the ship.\nSEMI-CHORUS 1 (chanting) You have found nought?\nSEMI-CHORUS 2 (chanting) A deal of toil, but nothing more to see.\nSEMI-CHORUS 1 (chanting) Neither has he been found along the path\nThat leads from the eastern glances of the sun.\nCHORUS (singing, strophe)\nFrom whom, oh from whom? what hard son of the waves,\nPlying his weary task without thought of sleep,\nOr what Olympian nymph of hill or stream that flows\nDown to the Bosporus' shore,\nMight I have tidings of my lord\nWandering somewhere seen\nFierce of mood? Grievous it is\nWhen I have toiled so long, and ranged far and wide\nThus to fail, thus to have sought in vain.\nStill the afflicted hero nowhere may I find. (TECMESSA enters and\ndiscovers the body.)\nTECMESSA Alas, woe, woe!\nCHORUS (chanting) Whose cry was it that broke from yonder copse?\nTECMESSA Alas, woe is me!\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS It is the hapless spear-won bride I see,\nTecmessa, steeped in that wail's agony.\nTECMESSA I am lost, destroyed, made desolate, my friends.\nLEADER What is it? Speak.\nTECMESSA Ajax, our master, newly slaughtered lies\nYonder, a hidden sword sheathed in his body.\nCHORUS (chanting) Woe for my lost hopes of home!\nWoe's me, thou hast slain me, my king,\nMe thy shipmate, hapless man!\nWoful-souled woman too!\nTECMESSA Since thus it is with him, 'tis mine to wail.\nLEADER By whose hand has he wrought this luckless deed?\nTECMESSA By his own hand, 'tis evident. This sword\nWhereon he fell, planted in earth, convicts him.\nCHORUS (chanting) Woe for my blind folly! Lone in thy blood thou\nliest, from friends' help afar.\nAnd I the wholly witless, the all unwary,\nForbore to watch thee. Where, where\nLieth the fatally named, intractable Ajax?\nTECMESSA None must behold him. I will shroud him wholly\nIn this enfolding mantle; for no man\nWho loved him could endure to see him thus\nThrough nostrils and through red gash spouting up\nThe darkened blood from his self-stricken wound.\nAh me, what shall I do? What friend shall lift thee?\nWhere is Teucer? Timely indeed would he now come,\nTo compose duly his slain brother's corpse.\nO hapless Ajax, who wast once so great,\nNow even thy foes might dare to mourn thy fall.\nCHORUS (chanting, antistrophe)\n'Twas fate's will, alas, 'twas fate then for thou\nStubborn of soul at length to work out a dark\nDoom of ineffable miseries. Such the dire\nFury of passionate hate\nI heard thee utter fierce of mood\nRailing at Atreus' sons\nNight by night, day by day.\nVerily then it was the sequence of woes\nFirst began, when as the prize of worth\nFatally was proclaimed the golden panoply.\nTECMESSA Alas, woe, woe!\nCHORUS (chanting) A loyal grief pierces thy heart, I know.\nTECMESSA Alas, woe, woe!\nCHORUS (chanting) Woman, I marvel not that thou shouldst wail\nAnd wail again, reft of a friend so dear.\nTECMESSA 'Tis thine to surmise, mine to feel, too surely.\nCHORUS (chanting) 'Tis even so.\nTECMESSA Ah, my child, to what bondage are we come,\nSeeing what cruel taskmasters will be ours.\nCHORUS (chanting) Ah me, at what dost thou hint?\nWhat ruthless, unspeakable wrong\nFrom the Atreidae fearest thou?\nBut may heaven avert that woe!\nTECMESSA Ne'er had it come to this save by heaven's will.\nCHORUS (chanting) Yes, too great to be borne this heaven-sent burden.\nTECMESSA Yet such the woe which the dread child of Zeus,\nPallas, has gendered for Odysseus' sake.\nCHORUS (chanting) Doubtless the much-enduring hero in his dark spy's\nsoul exults mockingly,\nAnd laughs with mighty laughter at these agonies\nOf a frenzied spirit. Shame! Shame!\nSharers in glee at the tale are the royal Atreidae.\nTECMESSA Well, let them mock and glory in his ruin.\nPerchance, though while he lived they wished not for him,\nThey yet shall wail him dead, when the spear fails them.\nMen of ill judgment oft ignore the good\nThat lies within their hands, till they have lost it.\nMore to their grief he died than to their joy,\nAnd to his own content. All his desire\nHe now has won, that death for which he longed.\nWhy then should they deride him? 'Tis the gods\nMust answer for his death, not these men, no.\nThen let Odysseus mock him with empty taunts.\nAjax is no more with them; but has gone,\nLeaving to me despair and lamentation.\nTEUCER (from without) Alas, woe, woe!\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Keep silence! Is it Teucer's voice I hear\nLifting a dirge over this tragic sight? (TEUCER enters.)\nTEUCER O brother Ajax, to mine eyes most dear,\nCan it be thou hast fared as rumour tells?\nLEADER Yes, he is dead, Teucer: of that be sure.\nTEUCER Alas, how then can I endure my fate!\nLEADER Since thus it is...\nTEUCER O wretched, wretched me!\nLEADER Thou hast cause to moan.\nTEUCER O swift and cruel woe!\nLEADER Too cruel, Teucer!\nTEUCER Woe is me! But say-\nHis child-where shall I find him? Tell me where.\nLEADER Alone within the tent.\nTEUCER (to TECMESSA) Then with all speed\nGo, bring him thither, lest some foe should snatch him\nLike a whelp from a lioness bereaved.\nAway! See it done quickly! All men are wont\nTo insult over the dead, once they lie low. (TECMESSA departs.)\nLEADER Yes, Teucer, while he lived, did he not charge thee\nTo guard his son from harm, as now thou dost?\nTEUCER O sight most grievous to me of all sights\nThat ever I have looked on with my eyes!\nAnd hatefullest of all paths to my soul\nThis path that now has led me to thy side,\nO dearest Ajax, when I heard thy fate,\nWhile seeking thee I tracked thy footsteps out.\nFor a swift rumour, as from some god, ran\nThrough the Greek host that thou wast dead and gone.\nWhile yet far off I heard it, and groaned deep\nIn anguish; now I see, and my life dies.\nAy me!\nUncover. Let me behold woe's very worst. (The cover is lifted from\nthe body.) O ghastly sight! victim of ruthless courage!\nWhat miseries hast thou dying sown for me!\nWhither, among what people, shall I go,\nWho in thy troubles failed to give thee succour?\nOh doubtless Telamon, thy sire and mine,\nWith kind and gracious face is like to greet me,\nReturned without thee: how else?-he who is wont\nEven at good news to smile none the sweeter.\nWhat will he keep back? What taunt not hurl forth\nAgainst the bastard of a spear-won slave,\nHim who through craven cowardice betrayed\nThee, beloved Ajax-or by guile, that so\nI might inherit thy kingdom and thy house.\nSo will he speak, a passionate man, grown peevish\nIn old age, quick to wrath without a cause.\nThen shall I be cast off, a banished man,\nProclaimed no more a freeman but a slave.\nSuch is the home that waits me; while at Troy\nMy foes are many, my well-wishers few.\nAll this will be my portion through thy death.\nAh me, what shall I do? How draw thee, brother,\nFrom this fell sword, on whose bright murderous point\nThou hast breathed out thy soul? See how at last\nHector, though dead, was fated to destroy thee!\nConsider, I pray, the doom of these two men.\nHector, with that same girdle Ajax gave him\nWas lashed fast to Achilles' chariot rail\nAnd mangled till he had gasped forth his life.\nAnd 'twas from him that Ajax had this gift,\nThe blade by which he perished and lies dead.\nWas it not some Erinys forged this sword,\nAnd Hades the grim craftsman wrought that girdle?\nI at least would maintain that the gods plan\nThese things and all things ever for mankind.\nBut whosoever's judgment likes not this,\nLet him uphold his doctrine as I mine.\nLEADER Speak no more, but take counsel how to inter\nOur dear lord, and what now it were best to say:\nFor 'tis a foe I see. Perchance he comes\nTo mock our misery, villain that he is.\nTEUCER What chieftain of the host do you behold?\nLEADER Menelaus, for whose sake we voyaged hither.\nTEUCER 'Tis he. I know him well, now he is near. (MENELAUS enters\nwith his retinue.)\nMENELAUS You, Sir, I warn you, raise not yonder corpse\nFor burial, but leave it as it lies.\nTEUCER For what cause do you waste such swelling words?\nMENELAUS 'Tis my will, and his will who rules the host.\nTEUCER Let us know then what pretext you allege.\nMENELAUS We hoped that we had brought this man from home\nTo be a friend and champion for the Greeks:\nBut a worse than Phrygian foe on trial we found him.\nDevising death for the whole host, by night\nHe sallied forth against us, armed for slaughter.\nAnd had not some god baffled this exploit,\nOurs would have been the lot which now is his:\nWhile we lay slain by a most shameful doom,\nHe would have still been living. But his outrage,\nFoiled by a god, has fallen on sheep and herds.\nWherefore there lives no man so powerful\nThat he shall lay this corpse beneath a tomb;\nBut cast forth somewhere upon the yellow sands\nIt shall become food for the sea-shore birds.\nThen lift not up your voice in threatening fury.\nIf while he lived we could not master him,\nYet in death will we rule him, in your despite,\nGuiding him with our hands, since in his life\nAt no time would he hearken to my words.\nYet 'tis a sign of wickedness, when a subject\nDeigns not to obey those placed in power above him.\nFor never can the laws be prosperously\nStablished in cities where awe is not found;\nNor may a camp be providently ruled\nWithout the shield of dread and reverence.\nYea, though a man be grown to mighty bulk,\nLet him look lest some slight mischance o'erthrow him.\nHe with whom awe and reverence abide,\nDoubt not, will flourish in security.\nBut where outrage and licence are not checked,\nBe sure that state, though sped by prosperous winds,\nSome day at last will founder in deep seas.\nYes, fear should be established in due season.\nDream not that we can act as we desire,\nYet avoid payment of the price in pain.\nWell, fortune goes by turns. This man was fiery\nAnd insolent once: 'tis mine now to exult.\nI charge thee, bury him not, lest by that act\nThou thyself shouldst be digging thine own grave,\nLEADER Menelaus, do not first lay down wise precepts,\nThen thyself offer outrage to the dead.\nTEUCER (to the CHORUS) Never, friends, shall I marvel any more,\nIf one of low birth acts injuriously,\nWhen they who are accounted nobly born\nCan utter such injurious calumnies. (To MENELAUS) Come, once more\nspeak. You say you brought him hither?\nTook him to be a champion of the Greeks?\nDid he not sail as his own master, freely?\nHow are you his chieftain? How have you the right\nTo lord it o'er the folk he brought from home?\nAs Sparta's lord you came, not as our master.\nIn no way was it your prerogative\nTo rule him, any more than he could you.\nAs vassal of others you sailed hither, not\nAs captain of us all, still less of Ajax.\nGo, rule those whom you may rule: chastise them\nWith proud words. But this man, though you forbid me,\nAye, and your fellow-captain, by just right\nWill I lay in his grave, scorning your threats.\nIt was not for the sake of your lost wife\nHe came to Troy, like your toil-broken serfs,\nBut for the sake of oaths that he had sworn,\nNot for yours. What cared he for nobodies?\nThen come again and bring more heralds hither,\nAnd the captain of the host. For such as you\nI would not turn my head, for all your bluster.\nLEADER Such speech I like not, either, in peril's midst:\nFor harsh words rankle, be they ne'er so just.\nMENELAUS This bowman, it seems, has pride enough to spare.\nTEUCER Yes, 'tis no mean craft I have made my own.\nMENELAUS How big would be your boasts, had you a shield!\nTEUCER Shieldless, I would outmatch you panoplied.\nMENELAUS How terrible a courage dwells within your tongue!\nTEUCER He may be bold of heart whose side right favours.\nMENELAUS Is it right that my assassin should be honoured?\nTEUCER Assassin? How strange, if, though slain, you live!\nMENELAUS Heaven saved me: I was slain in his intent.\nTEUCER Do not dishonour then the gods who saved you.\nMENELAUS What, I rebel against the laws of heaven?\nTEUCER,\nYes, if you come to rob the dead of burial.\nMENELAUS My own foes! How could I endure such wrong?\nTEUCER Did Ajax ever confront you as your foe?\nMENELAUS He loathed me, and I him, as well you know.\nTEUCER Because to defraud him you intrigued for votes.\nMENELAUS It was the judges cast him, and not I.\nTEUCER Much secret villainy you could make seem fair.\nMENELAUS That saying will bring someone into trouble.\nTEUCER Not greater trouble than we mean to inflict.\nMENELAUS My one last word: this man must not have burial.\nTEUCER Then hear my answer: burial he shall have.\nMENELAUS Once did I see a fellow bold of tongue,\nWho had urged a crew to sail in time of storm;\nYet no voice had you found in him, when winds\nBegan to blow; but hidden beneath his cloak\nThe mariners might trample on him at will.\nAnd so with you and your fierce railleries,\nPerchance a great storm, though from a little cloud\nIts breath proceed, shall quench your blatant outcry.\nTEUCER And I once saw a fellow filled with folly,\nWho gloried scornfully in his neighbour's woes.\nSo it came to pass that someone like myself,\nAnd of like mood, beholding him spoke thus.\n\"Man, act not wickedly towards the dead;\nOr, if thou dost, be sure that thou wilt rue it.\"\nThus did he monish that infatuate man.\nAnd lo! yonder I see him; and as I think,\nHe is none else but thou. Do I speak riddles?\nMENELAUS I go. It were disgrace should any know\nI had fallen to chiding where I might chastise.\nTEUCER Begone then. For to me 'twere worst disgrace\nThat I should listen to a fool's idle blustering. (MENELAUS and his\nretinue depart.)\nCHORUS (chanting) Soon mighty and fell will the strife be begun.\nBut speedily now, Teucer, I pray thee,\nSeek some fit place for his hollow grave,\nWhich men's memories evermore shall praise,\nAs he lies there mouldering at rest. (TECMESSA enters with EURYSACES.)\nTEUCER Look yonder, where the child and wife of Ajax\nAre hastening hither in good time to tend\nThe funeral rites of his unhappy corpse.\nMy child, come hither. Stand near and lay thy hand\nAs a suppliant on thy father who begat thee.\nAnd kneel imploringly with locks of hair\nHeld in thy hand-mine, and hers, and last thine-\nThe suppliant's treasure. But if any Greek\nBy violence should tear thee from this corpse,\nFor that crime from the land may he be cast\nUnburied, and his whole race from the root\nCut off, even as I sever this lock.\nThere, take it, boy, and keep it. Let none seek\nTo move thee; but still kneel there and cling fast.\nAnd you, like men, no women, by his side\nStand and defend him till I come again,\nWhen I have dug his grave, though all forbid. (TEUCER goes out.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nWhen will this agony draw to a close?\nWhen will it cease, the last of our years of exile?\nYears that bring me labour accurst of hurtling spears,\nWoe that hath no respite or end,\nBut wide-spread over the plains of Troy\nWorks sorrow and shame for Hellas' sons.\n(antistrophe 1)\nWould he had vanished away from the earth,\nRapt to the skies, or sunk to devouring Hades,\nHe who first revealed to the Greeks the use of arms\nLeagued in fierce confederate war!\nAh, toils eternally breeding toils!\nYea, he was the fiend who wrought man's ruin.\n(strophe 2)\nThe wretch accurst, what were his gifts?\nNeither the glad, festival wreath,\nNor the divine, mirth-giving wine-cup;\nNo music of flutes, soothing and sweet:\nSlumber by night, blissful and calm,\nNone he bequeathed us.\nAnd love's joys, alas! love did he banish from me.\nHere couching alone neglected,\nWith hair by unceasing dews drenched evermore, we curse\nThy shores, O cruel Ilium.\n(antistrophe 2)\nErewhile against terror by night, javelin or sword, firm was our\ntrust:\nHe was our shield, valiant Ajax.\nBut now a malign demon of fate\nClaims him. Alas! When, when again\nShall joy befall me?\nOh once more to stand, where on the wooded headland\nThe ocean is breaking, under\nThe shadow of Sunium's height; thence could I greet from far\nThe divine city of Athens. (TEUCER enters, followed by AGAMEMNON\nand his retinue.)\nTEUCER In haste I come; for the captain of the host,\nAgamemnon, I have seen hurrying hither.\nTo a perverse tongue now will he give rein.\nAGAMEMNON Is it you, they tell me, have dared to stretch your lips\nIn savage raillery against us, unpunished?\n'Tis you I mean, the captive woman's son.\nVerily of well-born mother had you been bred,\nSuperb had been your boasts and high your strut,\nSince you, being nought, have championed one who is nought,\nVowing that no authority is ours\nBy sea or land to rule the Greeks or you.\nAre not these monstrous taunts to hear from slaves?\nWhat was this man whose praise you vaunt so loudly?\nWhither went he, or where stood he, where I was not?\nAmong the Greeks are there no men but he?\nIn evil hour, it seems, did we proclaim\nThe contest for Achilles' panoply,\nIf come what may Teucer is to call us knaves,\nAnd if you never will consent, though worsted,\nTo accept the award that seemed just to most judges,\nBut either must keep pelting us with foul words,\nOr stab us craftily in your rage at losing.\nWhere such discords are customary, never\nCould any law be stablished and maintained,\nIf we should thrust the rightful winners by,\nAnd bring the rearmost to the foremost place.\nBut such wrong must be checked. 'Tis not the big\nBroad-shouldered men on whom we most rely;\nNo, 'tis the wise who are masters everywhere.\nAn ox, however large of rib, may yet\nBe kept straight on the road by a little whip.\nAnd this corrective, I perceive, will soon\nDescend on you, unless you acquire some wisdom,\nWho, though this man is dead, a mere shade now,\nCan wag your insolent lips so freely and boldly.\nCome to your senses: think what you are by birth.\nBring hither someone else, a man born free,\nWho in your stead may plead your cause before us.\nFor when you speak, the sense escapes me quite:\nI comprehend not your barbarian tongue.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Would that you both might learn wisdom and temperance.\nThere is no better counsel I can give you.\nTEUCER Alas! how soon gratitude to the dead\nProves treacherous and vanishes from men's minds,\nIf for thee, Ajax, this man has no more\nThe least word of remembrance, he for whom oft\nToiling in battle thou didst risk thy life.\nBut all that is forgotten and flung aside.\nThou who but now wast uttering so much folly,\nHast thou no memory left, how in that hour\nWhen, pent within your lines, you were already\nNo more than men of nought, routed in battle,\nHe alone stood forth to save you, while the flames\nWere blazing round the stern-decks of the ships\nAlready, and while Hector, leaping high\nAcross the trench, charged down upon the hulls?\nWho checked this ruin? Was it not he, who nowhere\nSo much as stood beside thee, so thou sayest?\nWould you deny he acted nobly there?\nOr when again chosen by lot, unbidden,\nAlone in single combat he met Hector?\nFor no runaway's lot did he cast in,\nNo lump of clammy earth, but such that first\nIt should leap lightly from the crested helm?\nHis were these exploits; and beside him stood\nI the slave, the barbarian mother's son.\nWretch, with what face can you fling forth such taunts?\nKnow you not that of old your father's father\nWas Pelops, a barbarian, and a Phrygian?\nThat your sire Atreus set before his brother\nA feast most impious of his own children's flesh?\nAnd from a Cretan mother you were born,\nWhom when her father found her with a paramour,\nHe doomed her for dumb fishes to devour.\nBeing such, do you reproach me with my lineage?\nTelamon is the father who begat me,\nWho, as the foremost champion of the Greeks,\nWon as his bride my mother, a princes\nBy birth, Laomedon's daughter: a chosen spoil\nShe had been given him by Alcmena's son.\nThus of two noble parents nobly born,\nHow should I shame one of my blood, whom now,\nLaid low by such calamity, you would thrust\nUnburied forth, and feel no shame to say it?\nBut of this be sure: wheresoever you may cast him,\nUs three also with him will you cast forth.\nFor it beseems me in his cause to die\nIn sight of all, rather than for the sake\nOf your wife-or your brother's should I say?\nLook then not to my interest, but your own.\nFor if you assail me, you shall soon wish rather\nTo have been a coward than too bold against me. (ODYSSEUS enters.)\nLEADER In good time, King Odysseus, hast thou come,\nIf 'tis thy purpose not to embroil but reconcile.\nODYSSEUS What is it, friends? Far off I heard high words\nFrom the Atreidae over this hero's corpse.\nAGAMEMNON Royal Odysseus, but now from this man\nWe have been listening to most shameful taunts.\nODYSSEUS How shameful? I could find excuse for one\nWho, when reviled, retorts with bitter words.\nAGAMEMNON Yes, I repaid his vile deeds with reviling.\nODYSSEUS What has he done thee whereby thou art wronged?\nAGAMEMNON He says he will not leave yon corpse unhonoured\nBy sepulture, but will bury it in my spite.\nODYSSEUS May now a friend speak out the truth, yet still\nAs ever ply his oar in stroke with thine?\nAGAMEMNON Speak: I should be witless else; for thee\nOf all the Greeks I count the greatest friend.\nODYSSEUS Then listen. For the gods' sake venture not\nThus ruthlessly to cast forth this man unburied:\nAnd in no wise let violence compel thee\nTo such deep hate that thou shouldst tread down justice.\nOnce for me too this man was my worst foe,\nFrom that hour when I won Achilles' arms;\nYet, though he was such towards me, I would not so\nRepay him with dishonour as to deny\nThat of all Greeks who came to Troy, no hero\nSo valiant save Achilles have I seen.\nSo it is not just thou shouldst dishonour him.\nNot him wouldst thou be wronging, but the laws\nOf heaven. It is not righteousness to outrage\nA brave man dead, not even though thou hate him.\nAGAMEMNON Thou, Odysseus, champion him thus against me?\nODYSSEUS Yes; but I hated him while hate was honourable.\nAGAMEMNON Shouldst thou not also trample on him when dead?\nODYSSEUS Atreides, glory not in dishonouring triumphs.\nAGAMEMNON 'Tis hard for a king to act with piety.\nODYSSEUS Yet not hard to respect a friend's wise counsel.\nAGAMEMNON A good man should obey those who bear rule.\nODYSSEUS Relent. 'Tis no defeat to yield to friends.\nAGAMEMNON Reflect who it is to whom thou dost this grace.\nODYSSEUS This man was once my foe, yet was he noble.\nAGAMEMNON Can it be thou wilt reverence a dead foe?\nODYSSEUS His worth with me far outweighs enmity.\nAGAMEMNON Unstable of impulse are such men as thou.\nODYSSEUS Many are friends now and hereafter foes.\nAGAMEMNON Do you then praise such friends as worth the winning?\nODYSSEUS I am not wont to praise a stubborn soul.\nAGAMEMNON Cowards you would have us show ourselves this day.\nODYSSEUS Not so, but just men before all the Greeks.\nAGAMEMNON You bid me then permit these funeral rites?\nODYSSEUS Even so: for I myself shall come to this.\nAGAMEMNON Alike in all things each works for himself.\nODYSSEUS And for whom should I work, if not myself?\nAGAMEMNON Let it be known then as your doing, not mine.\nODYSSEUS So be it. At least you will have acted nobly.\nAGAMEMNON Nay, but of this be certain, that to thee\nWillingly would I grant a greater boon.\nYet he, in that world as in this, shall be\nMost hateful to me. But act as you deem fit. (AGAMEMNON and his retinue\ngo out.)\nLEADER After such proof, Odysseus, a fool only\nCould say that inborn wisdom was not thine.\nODYSSEUS Let Teucer know that I shall be henceforth\nHis friend, no less than I was once his foe.\nAnd I will join in burying this dead man,\nAnd share in all due rites, omitting none\nWhich mortal men to noblest heroes owe.\nTEUCER Noble Odysseus, for thy words I praise thee\nWithout stint. Wholly hast thou belied my fears.\nThou, his worst foe among the Greeks, hast yet\nAlone stood by him staunchly, nor thought fit\nTo glory and exult over the dead,\nLike that chief crazed with arrogance, who came,\nHe and his brother, hoping to cast forth\nThe dead man shamefully without burial.\nMay therefore the supreme Olympian Father,\nThe remembering Fury and fulfilling Justice\nDestroy these vile men vilely, even as they\nSought to cast forth this hero unjustly outraged.\nBut pardon me, thou son of old Laertes,\nThat I must scruple to allow thine aid\nIn these rites, lest I so displease the dead.\nIn all else share our toil; and wouldst thou bring\nAny man from the host, we grudge thee not.\nWhat else remains, I will provide. And know\nThat thou towards us hast acted generously.\nODYSSEUS It was my wish. But if my help herein\nPleases you not, so be it, I depart. (ODYSSEUS goes out.)\nTEUCER 'Tis enough. Too long is the time we have wasted\nIn talk. Haste some with spades to the grave:\nSpeedily hollow it. Some set the cauldron\nOn high amid wreathing flames ready filled\nFor pious ablution.\nThen a third band go, fetch forth from the tent\nAll the armour he once wore under his shield.\nThou too, child, lovingly lay thy hand\nOn thy father's corpse, and with all thy strength\nHelp me to lift him: for the dark blood-tide\nStill upward is streaming warm through the arteries.\nAll then who openly now would appear\nFriends to the dead, come, hasten forwards.\nTo our valiant lord this labour is due.\nWe have served none nobler among men.\nCHORUS (chanting) Unto him who has seen may manifold knowledge\nCome; but before he sees, no man\nMay divine what destiny awaits him.\nTHE END","title":"Ajax","type":"page"}