{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/soph/trachin.htm","path":"cla/soph/trachin.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/soph/trachin.htm","text":"Dramatis Personae\nDEIANEIRA\nNURSE\nHYLLUS, son of HERACLES and DEIANEIRA\nMESSENGER\nLICHAS, the herald of HERACLES\nHERACLES\nAN OLD MAN\nCHORUS OF TRACHINIAN MAIDENS\nAt Trachis, before the house of HERACLES. Enter DEIANEIRA from the\nhouse, accompanied by the NURSE.\nDEIANEIRA There is a saying among men, put forth of old, that thou\ncanst not rightly judge whether a mortal's lot is good or evil, ere\nhe die. But I, even before I have passed to the world of death, know\nwell that my life is sorrowful and bitter; I, who in the house of\nmy father Oeneus, while yet I dwelt at Pleuron, had such fear of bridals\nas never vexed any maiden of Aetolia. For my wooer was a river-god,\nAchelous, who in three shapes was ever asking me from my sire,- coming\nnow as a bull in bodily form, now as serpent with sheeny coils, now\nwith trunk of man and front of ox, while from a shaggy beard the streams\nof fountain-water flowed abroad. With the fear of such a suitor before\nmine eyes, I was always praying in my wretchedness that I might die,\nor ever I should come near to such a bed.\nBut at last, to my joy, came the glorious son of Zeus and Alcmena;\nwho dosed with him in combat, and delivered me. How the fight was\nwaged, I cannot clearly tell, I know not; if there be any one who\nwatched that sight without terror, such might speak: I, as I sat there,\nwas distraught with dread, lest beauty should bring me sorrow at the\nlast. But finally the Zeus of battles ordained well,- if well indeed\nit be: for since I have been joined to Heracles as his chosen bride,\nfear after fear hath haunted me on his account; one night brings a\ntrouble, and the next night, in turn, drives it out. And then children\nwere born to us; whom he has seen only as the husbandman sees his\ndistant field, which he visits at seedtime, and once again at harvest.\nSuch was the life that kept him journeying to and fro, in the service\nof a certain master.\nBut now, when he hath risen above those trials,- now it is that my\nanguish is sorest. Ever since he slew the valiant Iphitus, we have\nbeen dwelling here in Trachis, exiles from our home, and the guests\nof stranger; but where he is, no one knows; I only know that he is\ngone, and hath pierced my heart with cruel pangs for him. I am almost\nsure that some evil hath befallen him; it is no short space that hath\npassed, but ten long months, and then five more,- and still no message\nfrom him. Yes, there has been some dread mischance;- witness that\ntablet which he left with me ere he went forth: oft do I pray to the\ngods that I may not have received it for my sorrow.\nNURSE Deianeira, my mistress, many a time have I marked thy bitter\ntears and lamentations, as thou bewailedst the going forth of Heracles;\nbut now,- if it be meet to school the free-born with the counsels\nof a slave, and if I must say what behoves thee,- why, when thou art\nso rich in sons, dost thou send no one of them to seek thy lord;-\nHyllus, before all, who might well go on that errand, if he cared\nthat there should be tidings of his father's welfare? Lo! there he\ncomes, speeding towards the house with timely step; if, then, thou\ndeemest that I speak in season, thou canst use at once my counsel,\nand the man. (HYLLUS comes in from the side.)\nDEIANEIRA My child, my son, wise words may fall, it seems, from humble\nlips; this woman is a slave, but hath spoken in the spirit of the\nfree.\nHYLLUS How, mother? Tell me, if it may be told.\nDEIANEIRA It brings thee shame, she saith, that, when thy father\nhath been so long a stranger, thou hast not sought to learn where\nhe is.\nHYLLUS Nay, I know,- if rumour can be trusted.\nDEIANEIRA And in what region, my child, doth rumour place him?\nHYLLUS Last year, they say, through all the months, he toiled as\nbondman to Lydian woman.\nDEIANEIRA If he bore that, then no tidings can surprise.\nHYLLUS Well, he has been delivered from that, as I hear.\nDEIANEIRA Where, then, is he reported to be now,- alive or dead?\nHYLLUS He is waging or planning a war, they say, upon Euboea, the\nrealm of Eurytus.\nDEIANEIRA Knowest thou, my son, that he hath left with me sure oracles\ntouching that land?\nHYLLUS What are they, mother? I know not whereof thou speakest.\nDEIANEIRA That either he shall meet his death, or, having achieved\nthis task, shall have rest thenceforth, for all his days to come.\nSo, my child, when his fate is thus trembling in the scale, wilt thou\nnot go to succour him? For we are saved, if he find safety, or we\nperish with him.\nHYLLUS Ay, I will go, my mother; and, had I known the import of these\nprophecies, I had been there long since; but, as it was, my father's\nwonted fortune suffered me not to feel fear for him, or to be anxious\novermuch. Now that I have the knowledge, I will spare no pains to\nlearn the whole truth in this matter.\nDEIANEIRA Go, then, my son; be the seeker ne'er so late, he is rewarded\nif he learn tidings of joy. (HYLLUS departs as the CHORUS OF TRACHINIAN\nMAIDENS enters. They are free-born young women of Trachis who are\nfriends and confidantes of DEIANEIRA. She remains during their opening\nchoral song.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nThou whom Night brings forth at the moment when she is despoiled\nof her starry crown, and lays to rest in thy splendour, tell me, pray\nthee, O Sun-god, tell me where abides Alcmena's son? Thou glorious\nlord of flashing light, say, is he threading the straits of the sea,\nor hath he found an abode on either continent? Speak, thou who seest\nas none else can see!\n(antistrophe 1)\nFor Deianeira, as I hear, hath ever an aching heart; she, the battle-prize\nof old, is now like some bird lorn of its mate; she can never lull\nher yearning, nor stay her tears; haunted by a sleepless fear for\nher absent lord, she pines on her anxious, widowed couch, miserable\nin her foreboding of mischance.\n(strophe 2)\nAs one may see billow after billow driven over the wide deep by the\ntireless south-wind or the north, so the trouble of his life, stormy\nas the Cretan sea, now whirls back the son of Cadmus, now lifts him\nto honour. But some god ever saves him from the house of death, and\nsuffers him not to fail.\n(antistrophe 2)\nLady, I praise not this thy mood; with all reverence will I speak,\nyet in reproof. Thou dost not well, I say, to kill fair hope by fretting;\nremember that the son of Cronus himself, the all-disposing king, hath\nnot appointed a painless lot for mortals. Sorrow and joy come round\nto all, as the Bear moves in his circling paths.\n(epode)\nYea, starry night abides not with men, nor tribulation, nor wealth;\nin a moment it is gone from us, and another hath his turn of gladness,\nand of bereavement. So would I wish thee also, the Queen, to keep\nthat prospect ever in thy thoughts; for when hath Zeus been found\nso careless of his children?\nDEIANEIRA Ye have heard of my trouble, I think, and that hath brought\nyou here; but the anguish which consumes my heart- ye are strangers\nto that; and never may ye learn it by suffering! Yes, the tender plant\ngrows in those sheltered regions of its own! and the Sun-god's heat\nvexes it not, nor rain, nor any wind; but it rejoices in its sweet,\nuntroubled being, til such time as the maiden is called a wife, and\nfinds her portion of anxious thoughts in the night, brooding on danger\nto husband or to children. Such an one could understand the burden\nof my cares; she could judge them by her own.\nWell, I have had many a sorrow to weep for ere now; but I am going\nto speak of one more grievous than them all.\nWhen Heracles my lord was going from home on his last journey, he\nleft in the house an ancient tablet, inscribed with tokens which he\nhad never brought himself to explain to me before, many as were the\nordeals to which he had gone forth. He had always departed as if to\nconquer, not to die. But now, as if he were a doomed man, he told\nme what portion of his substance I was to take for my dower, and how\nhe would have his sons share their father's land amongst them. And\nhe fixed the time; saying that, when a year and three months should\nhave passed since he had left the country, then he was fated to die;\nor, if he should have survived that term, to live thenceforth an untroubled\nlife.\nSuch, he said, was the doom ordained by the gods to be accomplished\nin the toils of Heracles; as the ancient oak at Dodona had spoken\nof yore, by the mouth of the two Peleiades. And this is the precise\nmoment when the fulfilment of that word becomes due; so that I start\nup from sweet slumber, my friends, stricken with terror at the thought\nthat I must remain widowed of the noblest among men.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Hush- no more ill-omened words; I see a man\napproaching, who wears a wreath, as if for joyous tidings. (A MESSENGER\nenters.)\nMESSENGER Queen Deianeira, I shall be the first of messengers to\nfree thee from fear. Know that Alcmena's son lives and triumphs, and\nfrom battle brings the first-fruits to the gods of this land.\nDEIANEIRA What news is this, old man, that thou hast told me?\nMESSENGER That thy lord, admired of all, will soon come to thy house,\nrestored to thee in his victorious might.\nDEIANEIRA What citizen or stranger hath told thee this?\nMESSENGER In the meadow, summer haunt of oxen, Lichas the herald\nis proclaiming it to many: from him I heard it, and flew hither, that\nI might be the first to give thee these tidings, and so might reap\nsome guerdon from thee, and win thy grace.\nDEIANEIRA And why is he not here, if he brings good news?\nMESSENGER His task, lady, is no easy one; all the Malian folk have\nthronged around him with questions, and he cannot move forward: each\nand all are bent on learning what they desire, and will not release\nhim until they are satisfied. Thus their eagerness detains him against\nhis will; but thou shalt presently see him face to face.\nDEIANEIRA O Zeus, who rulest the meads of Oeta, sacred from the scythe,\nat last, though late, thou hast given us joy! Uplift your voices,\nye women within the house and ye beyond our gates, since now we are\ngladdened by the light of this message, that hath risen on us beyond\nmy hope!\nLEADER OF ONE SEMI-CHORUS (singing) Let the maidens raise a joyous\nstrain for the house, with songs of triumph at the hearth; and, amidst\nthem, let the shout of the men go up with one accord for Apollo of\nthe bright quiver, our Defender! And at the same time, ye maidens,\nlift up a paean, cry aloud to his sister, the Ortygian Artemis, smiter\nof deer, goddess of the twofold torch, and to the Nymphs her neighbours!\nLEADER OF OTHER SEMI-CHORUS My spirit soars; I will not reject the\nwooing of the flute.- O thou sovereign of my soul! Lo, the ivy's spell\nbegins to work upon me! Euoe!- even now it moves me to whirl in the\nswift dance of Bachanals!\nCHORUS Praise, praise unto the Healer!\nLEADER OF WHOLE CHORUS See, dear lady, see! Behold, these tidings\nare taking shape before thy gaze.\nDEIANEIRA I see it, dear maidens; my watching eyes had not failed\nto note yon company. (Enter LICHAS, followed by Captive Maidens.\nConspicuous among them is IOLE.) -All hail to the herald, whose coming\nhath been so long delayed!- if indeed thou bringest aught that can\ngive joy.\nLICHAS We are happy in our return, and happy in thy greeting, lady,\nwhich befits the deed achieved; for when a man hath fair fortune,\nhe needs must win good welcome.\nDEIANEIRA O best of friends, tell me first what first I would know,-\nshall I receive Heracles alive?\nLICHAS I, certainly, left him alive and well,- in vigorous health,\nunburdened by disease.\nDEIANEIRA Where, tell me- at home, or on foreign soil?\nLICHAS There is a headland of Euboea, where to Cenaean Zeus he consecrates\naltars, and the tribute of fruitful ground.\nDEIANEIRA In payment of a vow, or at the bidding of an oracle?\nLICHAS For a vow, made when he was seeking to conquer and despoil\nthe country of these women who are before thee.\nDEIANEIRA And these- who are they, I pray thee, and whose daughters?\nThey deserve pity, unless their plight deceives me.\nLICHAS These are captives whom he chose out for himself and for the\ngods, when he sacked the city of Eurytus.\nDEIANEIRA Was it the war against that city which kept him away so\nlong, beyond all forecast, past all count of days?\nLICHAS Not so: the greater part of the time he was detained in Lydia,-\nno free man, as he declares, but sold into bondage. No offence should\nattend on the word, lady, when the deed is found to be of Zeus. So\nhe passed a whole year, as he himself avows, in thraldom to Omphale\nthe barbarian. And so stung was he by that reproach, he bound himself\nby a solemn oath that he would one day enslave, with wife and child,\nthe man who had brought that calamity upon him. Nor did he speak the\nword in vain; but, when he bad been purged, gathered an alien host,\nand went against the city of Eurytus. That man, he said, alone of\nmortals, had a share in causing his misfortune. For when Heracles,\nan old friend, came to his house and hearth, Eurytus heaped on him\nthe taunts of a bitter tongue and spiteful soul,- saying, 'Thou hast\nunerring arrows in thy hands, and yet my sons surpass thee in the\ntrial of archery'; 'Thou art a slave,' he cried, 'a free man's broken\nthrall': and at a banquet, when his guest was full of wine, he thrust\nhim from his doors.\nWroth thereat, when afterward Iphitus came to the hill of Tiryns,\nin search for horses that had strayed, Heracles seized a moment when\nthe man's wandering thoughts went not with his wandering gaze, and\nhurled him from a tower-like summit. But in anger at that deed, Zeus\nour lord, Olympian sire of all, sent him forth into bondage, and spared\nnot, because, this once, he had taken a life by guile. Had he wreaked\nhis vengeance openly, Zeus would surely have pardoned him the righteous\ntriumph; for the gods, too, love not insolence.\nSo those men, who waxed so proud with bitter speech, are themselves\nin the mansions of the dead, all of them, and their city is enslaved;\nwhile the women whom thou beholdest, fallen from happiness to misery,\ncome here to thee; for such was thy lord's command, which I, his faithful\nservant, perform. He himself, thou mayest be sure,- so soon as he\nshall have offered holy sacrifice for his victory to Zeus from whom\nhe sprang,- will be with thee. After all the fair tidings that have\nbeen told, this, indeed, is the sweetest word to hear.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Now, O Queen, thy joy is assured; part is with\nthee, and thou hast promise of the rest.\nDEIANEIRA Yea, have I not the fullest reason to rejoice at these\ntidings of my lord's happy fortune? To such fortune, such joy must\nneeds respond. And yet a prudent mind can see room for misgiving lest\nhe who prospers should one day suffer reverse. A strange pity hath\ncome over me, friends, at the sight of these ill-fated exiles, homeless\nand fatherless in a foreign land; once the daughters, perchance, of\nfree-born sires, but now doomed to the life of slaves. O Zeus, who\nturnest the tide of battle, never may I see child of mine thus visited\nby thy hand; nay, if such visitation is to be, may it not fall while\nDeianeira lives! Such dread do I feel, beholding these. (To IOLE)\nAh, hapless girl, say, who art thou? A maiden, or a mother? To judge\nby thine aspect, an innocent maiden, and of a noble race. Lichas,\nwhose daughter is this stranger? Who is her mother, who her sire?\nSpeak, I pity her more than all the rest, when I behold her; as she\nalone shows due feeling for her plight.\nLICHAS How should I know? Why should'st thou ask me? Perchance the\noff, spring of not the meanest in yonder land.\nDEIANEIRA Can she be of royal race? Had Eurytus a daughter?\nLICHAS I know not; indeed, I asked not many questions.\nDEIANEIRA And thou hast not heard her name from any of her companions?\nLICHAS No, indeed, I went through my task in silence.\nDEIANEIRA Unhappy girl, let me, at least, hear it from thine own\nmouth. It is indeed distressing not to know thy name. (IOLE maintains\nher silence.)\nLICHAS It will be unlike her former behaviour, then, I can tell thee,\nif she opens her lips: for she hath not uttered one word, but hath\never been travailing with the burden of her sorrow, and weeping bitterly,\npoor girl, since she left her wind-swept home. Such a state is grievous\nfor herself, but claims our forbearance.\nDEIANEIRA Then let her be left in peace, and pass under our roof\nas she wishes; her present woes must not be crowned with fresh pains\nat my hands; she hath enough already.-Now let us all go in, that thou\nmayest start speedily on thy journey, while I make all things ready\nin the house. (LICHAS leads the captives into the house. DEIANEIRA\nstarts to follow them, but the MESSENGER, who has been present during\nthe entire scene, detains her. He speaks as he moves nearer to her.)\nMESSENGER Ay, but first tarry here a brief space, that thou mayest\nlearn, apart from yonder folk, whom thou art taking to thy hearth,\nand mayest gain the needful knowledge of things which have not been\ntold to thee. Of these I am in full possession.\nDEIANEIRA What means this? Why wouldest thou stay my departure?\nMESSENGER Pause and listen. My former story was worth thy hearing,\nand so will this one be, methinks.\nDEIANEIRA Shall I call those others back? Or wilt thou speak before\nme and these maidens?\nMESSENGER To thee and these I can speak freely; never mind the others.\nDEIANEIRA Well, they are gone;- so thy story can proceed.\nMESSENGER Yonder man was not speaking the straight-forward truth\nin aught that he has just told. He has given false tidings now, or\nelse his former report was dishonest.\nDEIANEIRA How sayest thou? Explain thy whole drift clearly; thus\nfar, thy words are riddles to me.\nMESSENGER I heard this man declare, before many witnesses, that for\nthis maiden's sake Heracles overthrew Eurytus and the proud towers\nof Oechalia; Love, alone of the gods, wrought on him to do those deeds\nof arms,- not the toilsome servitude to Omphale in Lydia, nor the\ndeath to which Iphitus was hurled. But now the herald has thrust Love\nout of sight, and tells different tale.\nWell, when he could not persuade her sire to give him the maiden for\nhis paramour, he devised some petty complaint as a pretext, and made\nwar upon her land,- that in which, as he said, this Eurytus bore sway,-\nand slew the prince her father, and sacked her city. And now, as thou\nseest, he comes sending her to this house not in careless fashion,\nlady, nor like slave:-no, dream not of that,- it is not likely, if\nhis heart is kindled with desire.\nI resolved, therefore, O Queen, to tell thee all that I had heard\nfrom yonder man. Many others were listening to it, as I was, in the\npublic place where the Trachinians were assembled; and they can convict\nhim. If my words are unwelcome, I am grieved; but nevertheless I have\nspoken out the truth.\nDEIANEIRA Ah me unhappy! In what plight do I stand? What secret bane\nhave received beneath my roof? Hapless that I am! Is she nameless,\nthen, as her convoy sware?\nMESSENGER Nay, illustrious by name as by birth; she is the daughter\nof Eurytus, and was once called Iole; she of whose parentage Lichas\ncould say nothing, because, forsooth, he asked no questions.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Accursed, above other evil-doers, be the man\nwhom deeds of treachery dishonour!\nDEIANEIRA Ah, maidens, what am I to do? These latest tidings have\nbewildered me!\nLEADER Go and inquire from Lichas; perchance he will tell the truth,\nif thou constrain him to answer.\nDEIANEIRA Well, I will go; thy counsel is not amiss.\nMESSENGER And I, shall I wait here? Or what is thy pleasure?\nDEIANEIRA Remain;- here he comes from the house of his own accord,\nwithout summons from me. (Enter LICHAS)\nLICHAS Lady, what message shall I bear to Heracles? Give me thy commands,\nfor, as thou seest, I am going.\nDEIANEIRA How hastily thou art rushing away, when thy visit had been\nso long delayed,- before we have had time for further talk.\nLICHAS Nay, if there be aught that thou would'st ask, I am at thy\nservice.\nDEIANEIRA Wilt thou indeed give me the honest truth?\nLICHAS Yes, be great Zeus my witness,- in anything that I know,\nDEIANEIRA Who is the woman, then, whom thou hast brought?\nLICHAS She is Euboean; but of what birth, I cannot say.\nMESSENGER Sirrah, look at me:- to whom art thou speaking, think'st\nthou?\nLICHAS And thou- what dost thou mean by such a question?\nMESSENGER Deign to answer me, if thou comprehendest.\nLICHAS To the royal Deianeira, unless mine eyes deceive me,- daughter\nof Oeneus, wife of Heracles, and my queen.\nMESSENGER The very word that I wished to hear from thee:- thou sayest\nthat she is thy queen?\nLICHAS Yes, as in duty bound.\nMESSENGER Well, then, what art thou prepared to suffer, if found\nguilty of failing in that duty?\nLICHAS Failing in duty? What dark saying is this?\nMESSENGER 'Tis none; the darkest words are thine own.\nLICHAS I will go, I was foolish to hear thee so long.\nMESSENGER No, not till thou hast answered a brief question.\nLICHAS Ask what thou wilt; thou art not taciturn.\nMESSENGER That captive, whom thou hast brought home- thou knowest\nwhom mean?\nLICHAS Yes; but why dost thou ask?\nMESSENGER Well, saidst thou not that thy prisoner- she, on whom thy\ngaze now turns so vacantly- was Iole, daughter of Eurytus?\nLICHAS Said it to whom? Who and where is the man that will be thy\nwitness to hearing this from me?\nMESSENGER To many of our own folk thou saidst it: in the public gathering\nof Trachinians, a great crowd heard thus much from thee.\nLICHAS Ay- said they heard-but 'tis one thing to report a fancy,\nand another to make the story good.\nMESSENGER A fancy! Didst thou not say on thine oath that thou wast\nbringing her us a bride for Heracles?\nLICHAS I? bringing a bride?- In the name of the gods, dear mistress,\ntell me who this stranger may be?\nMESSENGER One who heard from thine own lips that the conquest of\nthe whole city was due to love for this girl: the Lydian woman was\nnot its destroyer, but the passion which this maid has kindled.\nLICHAS Lady, let this fellow withdraw: to prate with the brainsick\nbefits not sane man.\nDEIANEIRA Nay, I implore thee by Zeus whose lightnings go forth over\nthe high glens of Oeta, do not cheat me of the truth! For she to whom\nthou wilt speak is not ungenerous, nor hath she yet to learn that\nthe human heart is inconstant to its joys. They are not wise, then,\nwho stand forth to buffet against Love; for Love rules the gods as\nhe will, and me; and why not another woman, such as I am? So I am\nmad indeed, if I blame my husband, because that distemper hath seized\nhim; or this woman, his partner in a thing which is no shame to them,\nand no wrong to me. Impossible! No; if he taught thee to speak falsely,\n'tis not a noble lesson that thou art learning; or if thou art thine\nown teacher in this, thou wilt be found cruel when it is thy wish\nto prove kind. Nay, tell me the whole truth. To a free-born man, the\nname of liar cleaves as a deadly brand. If thy hope is to escape detection,\nthat, too, is vain; there are many to whom thou hast spoken, who will\ntell me.\nAnd if thou art afraid, thy fear is mistaken. Not to learn the truth,-that,\nindeed, would pain me; but to know it- what is there terrible in that?\nHath not Heracles wedded others ere now,- ay, more than living man,-\nand no one of them hath bad harsh word or taunt from me; nor shall\nthis girl, though her whole being should be absorbed in her passion;\nfor indeed I felt a profound pity when I beheld her, because her beauty\nhath wrecked her life, and she, hapless one, all innocent, hath brought\nher fatherland to ruin and to bondage.\nWell, those things must go with wind and stream.- To thee I say,-deceive\nwhom thou wilt, but ever speak the truth to me.\nLEADER Hearken to her good counsel, and hereafter thou shalt have\nno cause to complain of this lady; our thanks, too, will be thine.\nLICHAS Nay, then, dear mistress,- since I see that thou thinkest\nas mortals should think, and canst allow for weakness,- I will tell\nthee the whole truth, and hide it not. Yes, it is even as yon man\nsaith. This girl inspired that overmastering love which long ago smote\nthrough the soul of Heracles; for this girl's sake the desolate Oechalia,\nher home, was made the prey of his spear. And he,- it is just to him\nto say so,- never denied this,- never told me to conceal it. But I,\nlady, fearing to wound thy heart by such tidings, have sinned, if\nthou count this in any sort a sin.\nNow, however, that thou knowest the whole story, for both your sakes,-\nfor his, and not less for thine own,- bear with the woman, and be\ncontent that the words which thou hast spoken regarding her should\nbind thee still. For he, whose strength is victorious in all else,\nhath been utterly vanquished by his passion for this girl.\nDEIANEIRA Indeed, mine own thoughts move me to act thus. Trust me,\nI will not add a new affliction to my burdens by waging a fruitless\nfight against the gods.\nBut let us go into the house, that thou mayest receive my messages;\nand, since gifts should be meetly recompensed with gifts,- that thou\nmayest take these also. It is not right that thou shouldest go back\nwith empty hands, after coming with such a goodly train. (Exit MESSENGER,\nas LICHAS and DEIANEIRA go into the house.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe)\nGreat and mighty is the victory which the Cyprian queen ever bears\naway. I stay not now to speak of the gods; I spare to tell how she\nbeguiled the son of Cronus, and Hades, the lord of darkness, or Poseidon,\nshaker of the earth.\nBut, when this bride was to be won, who were the valiant rivals that\nentered the contest for her hand? Who went forth to the ordeal of\nbattle, to the fierce blows and the blinding dust?\n(antistrophe)\nOne was a mighty river-god, the dread form of a horned and four-legged\nbull, Achelous, from Oeniadae: the other came from Thebe, dear to\nBacchus, with curved bow, and spears, and brandished club, the son\nof Zeus: who then met in combat, fain to win a bride: and the Cyprian\ngoddess of nuptial joy was there with them, sole umpire of their strife.\n(epode)\nThen was there clatter of fists and clang of bow, and the noise of\nbull's horns therewith; then were there close-locked grapplings, and\ndeadly blows from the forehead, and loud deep cries from both.\nMeanwhile, she, in her delicate beauty, sat on the side of a hill\nthat could be seen afar, awaiting the husband that should be hers.\nSo the battle rages, as I have told; but the fair bride who is the\nprize of the strife abides the end in piteous anguish. And suddenly\nshe is parted from her mother, as when a heifer is taken from its\ndam. (DEIANEIRA enters from the house alone, carrying in her arms\na casket containing a robe.)\nDEIANEIRA Dear friends, while our visitor is saying his farewell\nto the captive girls in the house, I have stolen forth to you,- partly\nto tell you what these hands have devised, and partly to crave your\nsympathy with my sorrow.\nA maiden,- or, methinks, no longer a maiden, but a mistress,- hath\nfound her way into my house, as a freight comes to a mariner,- a merchandise\nto make shipwreck of my peace. And now we twain are to share the same\nmarriage-bed, the same embrace. Such is the reward that Heracles hath\nsent me,- he whom I called true and loyal,- for guarding his home\nthrough all that weary time. I have no thought of anger against him,\noften as he is vexed with this distemper. But then to live with her,\nsharing the same union- what woman could endure it? For I see that\nthe flower of her age is blossoming, while mine is fading; and the\neyes of men love to cull the bloom of youth, but they turn aside from\nthe old. This, then, is my fear,- lest Heracles, in name my spouse,\nshould be the younger's mate.\nBut, as I said, anger ill beseems a woman of understanding. I will\ntell you, friends, the way by which I hope to find deliverance and\nrelief. I had a gift, given to me long ago by a monster of olden time,\naid stored in an urn of bronze; a gift which, while yet a girl, I\ntook up from the shaggy-breasted Nessus,- from his life-blood, as\nhe lay dying; Nessus, who used to carry men in his arms across the\ndeep waters of the Evenus, using no oar to waft them, nor sail of\nship.\nI, too, was carried on his shoulders,- when, by my father's sending,\nfirst went forth with Heracles as his wife; and when I was in mid-stream,\nhe touched me with wanton hands. I shrieked; the son of Zeus turned\nquickly round, and shot a feathered arrow; it whizzed through his\nbreast to the lungs; and, in his mortal faintness, thus much the Centaur\nspake:-\n'Child of aged Oeneus, thou shalt have at least this profit of my\nferrying,- if thou wilt hearken,-because thou wast the last whom I\nconveyed. If thou gatherest with thy hands the blood clotted round\nmy wound, at the place where the Hydra, Lerna's monstrous growth,\nhath tinged the arrow with black gall,- this shall be to thee a charm\nfor the soul of Heracles, so that he shall never look upon any woman\nto love her more than thee.'\nI bethought me of this, my friends- for, after his death, I had kept\nit carefully locked up in a secret place; and I have anointed this\nrobe, doing everything to it as he enjoined while he lived. The work\nis finished. May deeds of wicked daring be ever far from my thoughts,\nand from my knowledge,- as I abhor the women who attempt them! But\nif in any wise I may prevail against this girl by love-spells and\ncharms used on Heracles, the means to that end are ready;-unless,\nindeed, I seem to be acting rashly: if so, I will desist forthwith.\nLEADER Nay, if these measures give any ground of confidence, we think\nthat thy design is not amiss.\nDEIANEIRA Well, the ground stands thus,- there is a fair promise;\nbut I have not yet essayed the proof.\nLEADER Nay, knowledge must come through action; thou canst have no\ntest which is not fanciful, save by trial.\nDEIANEIRA Well, we shall know presently:- for there I see the man\nalready at the doors; and he will soon be going.- Only may my secret\nbe well kept by you! While thy deeds are hidden, even though they\nbe not seemly, thou wilt never be brought to shame. (LICHAS enters\nfrom the house.)\nLICHAS What are thy commands? Give me my charge, daughter of Oeneus;\nfor already I have tarried over long.\nDEIANEIRA Indeed, I have just been seeing to this for thee, Lichas,\nwhile thou wast speaking to the stranger maidens in the house;- that\nthou shouldest take for me this long robe, woven by mine own hand,\na gift to mine absent lord.\nAnd when thou givest it, charge him that he, and no other, shall be\nthe first to wear it; that it shall not be seen by the light of the\nsun, nor by the sacred precinct, nor by the fire at the hearth, until\nhe stand forth, conspicuous before all eyes, and show it to the gods\non a day when bulls are slain.\nFor thus had I vowed,- that if I should ever see or hear that he had\ncome safely home, I would duly clothe him in this robe, and so present\nhim to the gods, newly radiant at their altar in new garb.\nAs proof, thou shalt carry a token, which he will quickly recognise\nwithin the circle of this seal.\nNow go thy way; and, first, remember the rule that messengers should\nnot be meddlers; next, so bear thee that my thanks may be joined to\nhis doubling the grace which thou shalt win.\nLICHAS Nay, if I ply this herald-craft of Hermes with any sureness,\nI will never trip in doing thine errand: I will not fail to deliver\nthis casket as it is, and to add thy words in attestation of thy gift.\nDEIANEIRA Thou mayest be going now; for thou knowest well how things\nare with us in the house.\nLICHAS I know, and will report, that all hath prospered.\nDEIANEIRA And then thou hast seen the greeting given to the stranger\nmaiden-thou knowest how I welcomed her?\nLICHAS So that my heart was filled with wondering joy.\nDEIANEIRA What more, then, is there for thee to tell? I am afraid\nthat it would be too soon to speak of the longing on my part, before\nwe know if I am longed for there. (LICHAS departs with the casket\nand DEIANEIRA retires into the house.)\nCHORUS (Singing, strophe 1)\nO ye who dwell by the warm springs between haven and crag, and by\nOeta's heights; O dwellers by the land-locked waters of the Malian\nsea, on the shore sacred to the virgin-goddess of the golden shafts,\nwhere the Greeks meet in famous council at the Gates;\n(antistrophe 1)\nSoon shall the glorious voice of the flute go up for you again, resounding\nwith no harsh strain of grief, but with such music as the lyre maketh\nto the gods! For the son whom Alcmena bore to Zeus is hastening homeward,\nwith the trophies of all prowess.\n(strophe 2)\nHe was lost utterly to our land, a wanderer over sea, while we waited\nthrough twelve long months, and knew nothing; and his loving wife,\nsad dweller with sad thoughts, was ever pining amid her tears. But\nnow the War-god, roused to fury, hath delivered her from the days\nof her mourning.\n(antistrophe 2)\nMay he come, may he come! Pause not the many-oared ship that carries\nhim, till he shall have reached this town, leaving the island altar\nwhere, as rumour saith, he is sacrificing! Thence may he come, full\nof desire, steeped in love by the specious device of the robe, on\nwhich Persuasion hath spread her sovereign charm! (DEIANEIRA comes\nout of the house in agitation.)\nDEIANEIRA Friends, how I fear that I may have gone too far in all\nthat I have been doing just now!\nLEADER What hath happened, Deianeira, daughter of Oeneus?\nDEIANEIRA I know not; but feel a misgiving that I shall presently\nbe found to have wrought a great mischief, the issue of a fair hope.\nLEADER It is nothing, surely, that concerns thy gift to Heracles?\nDEIANEIRA Yea, even so. And henceforth I would say to all, act not\nwith zeal, if ye act without light.\nLEADER Tell us the cause of thy fear, if it may be told.\nDEIANEIRA A thing hath come to pass, my friends, such that, if I\ndeclare it, ye will hear a marvel whereof none could have dreamed.\nThat with which I was lately anointing the festal robe,- a white tuft\nof fleecy sheep's wool,- hath disappeared,- not consumed by anything\nin the house, but self-devoured and self-destroyed, as it crumbled\ndown from the surface of a stone. But I must tell the story More at\nlength, that thou mayest know exactly how this thing befell.\nI neglected no part of the precepts which the savage Centaur gave\nme, when the bitter barb was rankling in his side: they were in my\nmemory, like the graven words which no hand may wash from a tablet\nof bronze. Now these were his orders, and I obeyed them:-to keep this\nunguent in secret place, always remote from fire and from the sun's\nwarm ray, until I should apply it, newly spread, where I wished. So\nhad I done. And now, when the moment for action had come, I performed\nthe anointing privily in the house, with a tuft of soft wool which\nI had plucked from a sheep of our home-flock; then I folded up my\ngift, and laid it, unvisited by sunlight, within its casket, as ye\nsaw.\nBut as I was going back into the house, I beheld a thing too wondrous\nfor words, and passing the wit of man to understand. I happened to\nhave thrown the shred of wool, with which I bad been preparing the\nrobe, into the full blaze of the sunshine. As it grew warm, it shrivelled\nall away, and quickly crumbled to powder on the ground, like nothing\nso much as the dust shed from a saw's teeth where men work timber.\nIn such a state it lies as it fell. And from the earth, where it was\nstrewn, clots of foam seethed up, as when the rich juice of the blue\nfruit from the vine of Bacchus is poured upon the ground.\nSo I know not, hapless one, whither to turn my thoughts; I only see\nthat I have done a fearful deed. Why or wherefore should the monster,\nin his death-throes, have shown good will to me, on whose account\nhe was dying? Impossible! No, he was cajoling me, in order to slay\nthe man who had smitten him: and I gain the knowledge of this too\nlate, when it avails no more. Yes, I alone- unless my foreboding prove\nfalse- I, wretched one, must destroy him! For I know that the arrow\nwhich made the wound did scathe even to the god Cheiron; and it kills\nall beasts that it touches. And since 'tis this same black venom in\nthe blood that hath passed out through the wound of Nessus, must it\nnot kill my lord also? I ween it must.\nHowbeit, I am resolved that, if he is to fall, at the same time I\nalso shall be swept from life; for no woman could bear to live with\nan evil name, if she rejoices that her nature is not evil.\nLEADER Mischief must needs be feared; but it is not well to doom\nour hope before the event.\nDEIANEIRA Unwise counsels leave no room even for a hope which can\nlend courage.\nLEADER Yet towards those who have erred unwittingly, men's anger\nis softened; and so it should be towards thee.\nDEIANEIRA Nay, such words are not for one who has borne a part in\nthe ill deed, but only for him who has no trouble at his own door.\nLEADER 'Twere well to refrain from further speech, unless thou would'st\ntell aught to thine own son; for he is at hand, who went erewhile\nto seek his sire. (Enter HYLLUS)\nHYLLUS O mother, would that one of three things had befallen thee!\nWould that thou wert dead,- or, if living, no mother of mine,- or\nthat some new and better spirit had passed into thy bosom.\nDEIANEIRA Ah, my son, what cause have I given thee to abhor me?\nHYLLUS I tell thee that thy husband- yea, my sire-bath been done\nto death by thee this day\nDEIANEIRA Oh, what word hath passed thy lips, my child!\nHYLLUS A word that shall not fail of fulfilment; for who may undo\nthat which bath come to pass?\nDEIANEIRA What saidst thou, my son? Who is thy warranty for charging\nme with a deed so terrible?\nHYLLUS I have seen my father's grievous fate with mine own eyes;\nI speak not from hearsay.\nDEIANEIRA And where didst thou find him,- where didst thou stand\nat his side?\nHYLLUS If thou art to hear it, then must all be told.\nAfter sacking the famous town of Eurytus, he went his way with the\ntrophies and first-fruits of victory. There is a sea-washed headland\nof Euboea, Cape Cenaeum, where he dedicated altars and a sacred grove\nto the Zeus of his fathers; and there I first beheld him, with the\njoy of yearning love.\nHe was about to celebrate a great sacrifice, when his own herald,\nLichas, came to him from home, bearing thy gift, the deadly robe;\nwhich he put on, according to thy precept; and then began his offering\nwith twelve bulls, free from blemish, the firstlings of the spoil;\nbut altogether he brought a hundred victims, great or small, to the\naltar.\nAt first, hapless one, he prayed with serene soul, rejoicing in his\ncomely garb. But when the blood-fed flame began to blaze from the\nholy offerings and from the resinous pine, a sweat broke forth upon\nhis flesh, and the tunic clung to his sides, at every joint, close-glued,\nas if by a craftsman's hand; there came a biting pain that racked\nhis bones; and then the venom, as of some deadly, cruel viper, began\nto devour him.\nThereupon he shouted for the unhappy Lichas,- in no wise to blame\nfor thy crime,- asking what treason had moved him to bring that robe;\nbut he, all-unknowing, hapless one, said that he had brought the gift\nfrom thee alone, as it had been sent. When his master heard it, as\na piercing spasm clutched his lungs, he caught him by the foot, where\nthe ankle turns in the socket, and hurled him at a surf-beaten rock\nin the sea; and he made the white brain to ooze from the hair, as\nthe skull was dashed to splinters, and blood scattered therewith.\nBut all the people lifted up a cry of awe-struck grief, seeing that\none was frenzied, and the other slain; and no one dared to come before\nthe man. For the pain dragged him to earth, or made him leap into\nthe air, with yells and shrieks, till the cliffs rang around, steep\nheadlands of Locris, and Euboean capes.\nBut when he was spent with oft throwing himself on the ground in his\nanguish, and oft making loud lament,- cursing his fatal marriage with\nthee, the vile one, and his alliance with Oeneus,- saying how he had\nfound in it the ruin of his life,- then from out of the shrouding\naltar-smoke, he lifted up his wildly-rolling eyes, and saw me in the\ngreat crowd, weeping. He turned his gaze on me, and called me: 'O\nson, draw near; do not fly from my trouble, even though thou must\nshare my death. Come, bear me forth, and set me, if thou canst, in\na place where no man shall see me; or, if thy pity forbids that, at\nleast convey me with all speed out of this land, and let me not die\nwhere I am.'\nThat command sufficed; we laid him in mid-ship, and brought him-but\nhardly brought him- to this shore, moaning in his torments. And ye\nshall presently behold him, alive, or lately dead.\nSuch, mother, are the designs and deeds against my sire whereof thou\nhast been found guilty. May avenging justice and the Erinys visit\nthee for them! Yes, if it be right, that is my prayer: and right it\nis,- for I have seen thee trample on the right, by slaying the noblest\nman in all the world, whose like thou shalt see nevermore! (DEIANEIRA\nmoves towards the house.)\nLEADER (to DEIANEIRA) Why dost thou depart in silence? Knowest thou\nnot that such silence pleads for thine accuser? (DEIANEIRA goes in\nthe house.)\nHYLLUS Let her depart. A fair wind speed her far from my sight! Why\nshould the name of mother bring her a semblance of respect, when she\nis all unlike a mother in her deeds? No, let her go,- farewell to\nher; and may such joy as she gives my sire become her own! (Exit\nHYLLUS, into the house.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nSee, maidens, how suddenly the divine word of the old prophecy hath\ncome upon us, which said that, when the twelfth year should have run\nthrough its full tale of months, it should end the series of toils\nfor the true-born son of Zeus! And that promise is wafted surely to\nits fulfilment. For how shall he who beholds not the light have toilsome\nservitude any more beyond the grave?\n(antistrophe 1)\nIf a cloud of death is around him, and the doom wrought by the Centaur's\ncraft is stinging his sides, where cleaves the venom which Thanatos\nbegat and the gleaming serpent nourished, how can he look upon tomorrow's\nsun,- when that appalling Hydra-shape holds him in its grip, and those\nmurderous goads, prepared by the wily words of black-haired Nessus,\nhave started into fury, vexing him with tumultuous pain?\n(strophe 2)\nOf such things this hapless lady had no foreboding; but she saw great\nmischief swiftly coming on her home from the new marriage. Her own\nhand applied the remedy; but for the issues of a stranger's counsel,\ngiven at a fatal meeting,- for these, I ween, she makes despairing\nlament, shedding the tender dew of plenteous tears. And the coming\nfate foreshadows a great misfortune, contrived by guile.\n(antistrophe 2)\nOur streaming tears break forth: alas, a plague is upon him more\npiteous than any suffering that foemen ever brought upon that glorious\nhero.\nAh, thou dark steel of the spear foremost in battle, by whose might\nyonder bride was lately borne so swiftly from Oechalia's heights!\nBut the Cyprian goddess, ministering in silence, hath been plainly\nproved the doer of these deeds.\nLEADER OF ONE SEMI-CHORUS Is it fancy, or do I hear some cry of grief\njust passing through the house? What is this?\nLEADER OF OTHER SEMI-CHORUS No uncertain sound, but a wail of anguish\nfrom within: the house hath some new trouble.\nLEADER OF WHOLE CHORUS And mark how sadly, with what a cloud upon\nher brow, that aged woman approaches, to give us tidings. (Enter\nNURSE, from the house.)\nNURSE Ah, my daughters, great, indeed, were the sorrows that we were\nto reap from the gift sent to Heracles!\nLEADER Aged woman, what new mischance hast thou to tell?\nNURSE Deianeira hath departed on the last of all her journeys, departed\nwithout stirring foot.\nLEADER Thou speakest not of death?\nNURSE My tale is told.\nLEADER Dead, hapless one?\nNURSE Again thou hearest it.\nCHORUS Hapless, lost one! Say, what was the manner of her death?\nNURSE Oh, a cruel deed was there!\nCHORUS Speak, woman, how hath she met her doom?\nNURSE By her own hand hath she died.\nCHORUS What fury, what pangs of frenzy have cut her off by the edge\nof a dire weapon? How contrived she this death, following death,-\nall wrought by her alone?\nNURSE By the stroke of the sword that makes sorrow.\nCHORUS Sawest thou that violent deed, poor helpless one?\nNURSE I saw it; yea, I was standing near.\nCHORUS Whence came it? How was it done? Oh, speak\nNURSE 'Twas the work of her own mind and her own hand.\nCHORUS What dost thou tell us?\nNURSE The sure truth.\nCHORUS The first-born, the first-born of that new bride is a dread\nErinys for this house!\nNURSE Too true; and, hadst thou been an eye-witness of the action,\nverily thy pity would have been yet deeper.\nLEADER And could a woman's hand dare to do such deeds?\nNURSE Yea, with dread daring; thou shalt hear, and then thou wilt\nbear me witness.\nWhen she came alone into the house, and saw her son preparing a deep\nlitter in the court, that he might go back with it to meet his sire,\nthen she hid herself where none might see; and, falling before the\naltars, she wailed aloud that they were left desolate; and, when she\ntouched any-household thing that she had been wont to use, poor lady,\nin the past, her tears would flow; or when, roaming hither and thither\nthrough the house, she beheld the form of any well-loved servant,\nshe wept, hapless one, at that sight, crying aloud upon her own fate,\nand that of the household which would thenceforth be in the power\nof others.\nBut when she ceased from this, suddenly I beheld her rush into the\nchamber of Heracles. From a secret place of espial, I watched her;\nand saw her spreading coverings on the couch of her lord. When she\nhad done this, she sprang thereon, and sat in the middle of the bed;\nher tears burst forth in burning streams, and thus she spake: 'Ah,\nbridal bed and bridal chamber mine, farewell now and for ever; never\nmore shall ye receive me to rest upon this couch.' She said no more,\nbut with a vehement hand loosed her robe, where the gold-wrought brooch\nlay above her breast, baring all her left side and arm. Then I ran\nwith all my strength, and warned her son of her intent. But lo, in\nthe space between my going and our return, she had driven a two-edged\nsword through her side to the heart.\nAt that sight, her son uttered a great cry; for he knew, alas, that\nin his anger he had driven her to that deed; and he had learned, too\nlate, from the servants in the house that she had acted without knowledge,\nby the prompting of the Centaur. And now the youth, in his misery,\nbewailed her with all passionate lament; he knelt, and showered kisses\non her lips; he threw himself at her side upon the ground, bitterly\ncrying that he had rashly smitten her with a slander,- weeping that\nhe must now live bereaved of both alike,- of mother and of sire.\nSuch are the fortunes of this house. Rash indeed, is he who reckons\non the morrow, or haply on days beyond it; for to-morrow is not, until\nto-day is safely past.\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nWhich woe shall I bewail first, which misery is the greater? Alas,\n'tis hard for me to tell.\n(antistrophe 1)\nOne sorrow may be seen in the house; for one we wait with foreboding:\nand suspense hath a kinship with pain.\n(strophe 2)\nOh that some strong breeze might come with wafting power unto our\nhearth, to bear me far from this land, lest I die of terror, when\nlook but once upon the mighty son of Zeus!\nFor they say that he is approaching the house in torments from which\nthere is no deliverance, a wonder of unutterable woe.\n(antistrophe 2)\nAh, it was not far off, but close to us, that woe of which my lament\ngave warning, like the nightingale's piercing note!\nMen of an alien race are coming yonder. And how, then, are they bringing\nhim? In sorrow, as for some loved one, they move on their mournful,\nnoiseless march.\nAlas, he is brought in silence! What are we to think; that he is dead,\nor sleeping? (Enter HYLLUS and an OLD MAN, with attendants,bearing\nHERACLES upon a litter.)\nHYLLUS Woe is me for thee, my father, woe is me for thee, wretched\nthat I am! Whither shall I turn? What can I do? Ah me!\nOLD MAN (whispering) Hush, my son! Rouse not the cruel pain that\ninfuriates thy sire! He lives, though prostrated. Oh, put a stern\nrestraint upon thy lips!\nHYLLUS How sayest thou, old man- is he alive?\nOLD MAN (whispering) Thou must not awake the slumberer! Thou must\nnot rouse and revive the dread frenzy that visits him, my son!\nHYLLUS Nay, I am crushed with this weight of misery- there is madness\nin my heart!\nHERACLES (awaking) O Zeus, to what land have I come? Who are these\namong whom I lie, tortured with unending agonies? Wretched, wretched\nthat I am! Oh, that dire pest is gnawing me once more!\nOLD MAN (to HYLLUS) Knew I not how much better it was that thou\nshouldest keep silence, instead of scaring slumber from his brain\nand eyes?\nHYLLUS Nay, I cannot be patient when I behold this misery.\nHERACLES O thou Cenaean rock whereon mine altars rose, what a cruel\nreward hast thou won me for those fair offerings,- be Zeus my witness!\nAh, to what ruin hast thou brought me, to what ruin! Would that I\nhad never beheld thee for thy sorrow! Then had I never come face to\nface with this fiery madness, which no spell can soothe! Where is\nthe charmer, where is the cunning healer, save Zeus alone, that shall\nlull this plague to rest? I should marvel, if he ever came within\nmy ken!\n(strophe 1)\nAh!\nLeave me, hapless one, to my rest- leave me to my last rest!\n(strophe 2)\nWhere art thou touching me? Whither wouldst thou turn me? Thou wilt\nkill me, thou wilt kill me! If there be any pang that slumbers, thou\nhast aroused it!\nIt hath seized me,- oh, the pest comes again!- Whence are ye, most\nungrateful of all the Greeks? I wore out my troublous days in ridding\nGreece of pests, on the deep and in all forests; and now, when I am\nstricken, will no man succour me with merciful fire of sword?\n(antistrophe 1)\nOh, will no one come and sever the head, at one fierce stroke, from\nthis wretched body? Woe, woe is me!\nOLD MAN Son of Heracles, this task exceeds my strength,- help thou,-\nfor strength is at thy command, too largely to need my aid in his\nrelief.\nHYLLUS My hands are helping; but no resource, in myself or from another,\navails me to make his life forget its anguish:- such is the doom appointed\nby Zeus!\nHERACLES (strophe 3)\nO my son, where art thou? Raise me,- take hold of me,- thus thus!\nAlas, my destiny!\n(antistrophe 2)\nAgain, again the cruel pest leaps forth to rend me, the fierce plague\nwith which none may cope!\nO Pallas, Pallas, it tortures me again! Alas, my son, pity thy sire,-\ndraw a blameless sword, and smite beneath my collar-bone, and heal\nthis pain wherewith thy godless mother hath made me wild! So may I\nsee her fall,- thus, even thus, as she hath destroyed me!\n(antistrophe 3)\nSweet Hades, brother of Zeus, give me rest, give me rest,- end my\nwoe by a swiftly-sped doom!\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS I shudder, friends, to hear these sorrows of\nour lord; what a man is here, and what torments afflict him!\nHERACLES Ah, fierce full oft, and grievous not in name alone, have\nbeen the labours of these hands, the burdens borne upon these shoulders!\nBut no toil ever laid on me by the wife of Zeus or by the hateful\nEurystheus was like unto this thing which the daughter of Oeneus,\nfair and false, hath fastened upon my back,- this woven net of the\nFuries, in which I perish! Glued to my sides, it hath eaten my flesh\nto the inmost parts; it is ever with me, sucking the channels of my\nbreath; already it hath drained my fresh lifeblood, and my whole body\nis wasted, a captive to these unutterable bonds.\nNot the warrior on the battle-field, not the Giants' earth-born host,\nnor the might of savage beasts, hath ever done unto me thus,- not\nHellas, nor the land of the alien, nor any land to which I have come\nas a deliverer: no, a woman, a weak woman, born not to the strength\nof man, all alone hath vanquished me, without stroke of sword\nSon, show thyself my son indeed, and do not honour a mother's name\nabove a sire's: bring forth the woman that bare thee, and give her\nwith thine own hands into my hand, that I may know of a truth which\nsight grieves thee most,- my tortured frame, or hers, when she suffers\nher righteous doom!\nGo, my son, shrink not- and show thy pity for me, whom many might\ndeem pitiful,- for me, moaning and weeping like a girl;- and the man\nlives not who can say that he ever saw me do thus before; no, without\ncomplaining I still went whither mine evil fortune led. But now, alas,\nthe strong man hath been found a woman.\nApproach, stand near thy sire, and see what a fate it is that hath\nbrought me to this pass; for I will lift the veil. Behold! Look, all\nof you, on this miserable body; see how wretched, how piteous is my\nplight!\nAh, woe is me!\nThe burning throe of torment is there anew, it darts through my sides-\nI must wrestle once more with that cruel, devouring plague!\nO thou lord of the dark realm, receive me! Smite me, O fire of Zeus!\nHurl down thy thunderbolt, O King, send it, O father, upon my head!\nFor again the pest is consuming me; it hath blazed forth, it hath\nstarted into fury! O hands, my hands, O shoulders and breast and trusty\narms, ye, now in this plight, are the same whose force of old subdued\nthe dweller in Nemea, the scourge of herdsmen, the lion, a creature\nthat no man might approach or confront; ye tamed the Lernaean Hydra,\nand that monstrous host of double form, man joined to steed, a race\nwith whom none may commune, violent, lawless, of surpassing might;\nye tamed the Erymanthian beast, and the three-headed whelp of Hades\nunderground, a resistless terror, offspring of the dread Echidna;\nye tamed the dragon that guarded the golden fruit in the utmost places\nof the earth.\nThese toils and countless others have I proved, nor hath any man vaunted\na triumph over my prowess. But now, with joints unhinged and with\nflesh torn to shreds, I have become the miserable prey of an unseen\ndestroyer,- I, who am called the son of noblest mother,- I, whose\nreputed sire is Zeus, lord of the starry sky.\nBut ye may be sure of one thing:- though I am as nought, though I\ncannot move a step, yet she who hath done this deed shall feel my\nheavy hand even now: let her but come, and she shall learn to proclaim\nthis message unto all, that in my death, as in my life, I chastised\nthe wicked!\nLEADER Ah, hapless Greece, what mourning do I forsee for her, if\nshe must lose this man\nHYLLUS Father, since thy pause permits an answer, hear me, afflicted\nthough thou art. I will ask thee for no more than is my due. Accept\nmy counsels, in a calmer mood than that to which this anger stings\nthee: else thou canst not learn how vain is thy desire for vengeance,\nand how causeless thy resentment.\nHERACLES Say what thou wilt, and cease; in this my pain I understand\nnought of all thy riddling words.\nHYLLUS I come to tell thee of my mother,- how it is now with her,\nand how she sinned unwittingly.\nHERACLES Villain! What- hast thou dared to breathe her name again\nin my hearing,- the name of the mother who hath slain thy sire?\nHYLLUS Yea, such is her state that silence is unmeet.\nHERACLES Unmeet, truly, in view of her past crimes.\nHYLLUS And also of her deeds this day,- as thou wilt own.\nHERACLES Speak,- but give heed that thou be not found a traitor.\nHYLLUS These are my tidings. She is dead, lately slain.\nHERACLES By whose hand? A wondrous message, from a prophet of ill-omened\nvoice!\nHYLLUS By her own hand, and no stranger's.\nHERACLES Alas, ere she died by mine, as she deserved!\nHYLLUS Even thy wrath would be turned, couldst thou hear all.\nHERACLES A strange preamble; but unfold thy meaning.\nHYLLUS The sum is this;- she erred, with a good intent.\nHERACLES Is it a good deed, thou wretch, to have slain thy sire?\nHYLLUS Nay, she thought to use a love-charm for thy heart, when she\nsaw the new bride in the house; but missed her aim.\nHERACLES And what Trachinian deals in spells so potent?\nHYLLUS Nessus the Centaur persuaded her of old to inflame thy desire\nwith such a charm.\nHERACLES Alas, alas, miserable that I am! Woe is me, I am lost,-\nundone, undone! No more for me the light of day! Alas, now I see in\nwhat a plight stand! Go, my son,- for thy father's end hath come,-\nsummon, I pray thee, all thy brethren; summon, too, the hapless Alcmena,\nin vain the bride of Zeus,- that ye may learn from my dying lips what\noracles know.\nHYLLUS Nay, thy mother is not here; as it chances, she hath her abode\nat Tiryns by the sea. Some of thy children she hath taken to live\nwith her there, and others, thou wilt find, are dwelling in Thebe's\ntown. But we who are with thee, my father, will render all service\nthat is needed, at thy bidding.\nHERACLES Hear, then, thy task: now is the time to show what stuff\nis in thee, who art called my son.\nIt was foreshown to me by my Sire of old that I should perish by no\ncreature that had the breath of life, but by one that had passed to\ndwell with Hades. So I have been slain by this savage Centaur, the\nliving by the dead, even as the divine will had been foretold.\nAnd I will show thee how later oracles tally therewith, confirming\nthe old prophecy. I wrote them down in the grove of the Selli, dwellers\non the hills, whose couch is on the ground; they were given by my\nFather's oak of many tongues; which said that, at the time which liveth\nand now is, my release from the toils laid upon me should be accomplished.\nAnd I looked for prosperous days; but the meaning, it seems, was only\nthat should die; for toil comes no more to the dead.\nSince, then, my son, those words are clearly finding their fulfilment,\nthou, on thy part, must lend me thine aid. Thou must not delay, and\nso provoke me to bitter speech: thou must consent and help with a\ngood grace, as one who hath learned that best of laws, obedience to\na sire.\nHYLLUS Yea, father,- though I fear the issue to which our talk hath\nbrought me,- I will do thy good pleasure.\nHERACLES First of all, lay thy right hand in mine.\nHYLLUS For what purpose dost thou insist upon his pledge?\nHERACLES Give thy hand at once- disobey me not!\nHYLLUS Lo, there it is: thou shalt not be gainsaid.\nHERACLES Now, swear by the head of Zeus my sire!\nHYLLUS To do what deed? May this also be told?\nHERACLES To perform for me the task that I shall enjoin.\nHYLLUS I swear it, with Zeus for witness of the oath.\nHERACLES And pray that, if thou break this oath, thou mayest suffer.\nHYLLUS I shall not suffer, for I shall keep it:- yet so I pray.\nHERACLES Well, thou knowest the summit of Oeta, sacred to Zeus?\nHYLLUS Ay; I have often stood at his altar on that height.\nHERACLES Thither, then, thou must carry me up with thine own hands,\naided by what friends thou wilt; thou shalt lop many a branch from\nthe deep-rooted oak, and hew many a faggot also from the sturdy stock\nof the wild-olive; thou shalt lay my body thereupon, and kindle it\nwith flaming pine-torch.\nAnd let no tear of mourning be seen there; no, do this without lament\nand without weeping, if thou art indeed my son. But if thou do it\nnot, even from the world below my curse and my wrath shall wait on\nthee for ever.\nHYLLUS Alas, my father, what hast thou spoken? How hast thou dealt\nwith me!\nHERACLES I have spoken that which thou must perform; if thou wilt\nnot, then get thee some other sire, and be called my son no more!\nHYLLUS Woe, woe is me! What a deed dost thou require of me, my father,-that\nI should become thy murderer, guilty of thy blood!\nHERACLES Not so, in truth, but healer of my sufferings, sole physician\nof my pain!\nHYLLUS And how, by enkindling thy body, shall I heal it?\nHERACLES Nay, if that thought dismay thee, at least perform the rest.\nHYLLUS The service of carrying thee shall not be refused.\nHERACLES And the heaping of the pyre, as I have bidden?\nHYLLUS Yea, save that I will not touch it with mine own hand. All\nelse will I do, and thou shalt have no hindrance on my part.\nHERACLES Well, so much shall be enough.- But add one small boon to\nthy large benefits.\nHYLLUS Be the boon never so large, it shall be granted.\nHERACLES Knowest thou, then, the girl whose sire was Eurytus?\nHYLLUS It is of Iole that thou speakest, if I mistake not.\nHERACLES Even so. This, in brief, is the charge that I give thee,\nmy son. When am dead, if thou wouldest show a pious remembrance of\nthine oath unto thy father, disobey me not, but take this woman to\nbe thy wife. Let no other espouse her who hath lain at my side, but\ndo thou, O my son, make that marriage-bond thine own. Consent: after\nloyalty in great matters, to rebel in less is to cancel the grace\nthat bad been won.\nHYLLUS Ah me, it is not well to be angry with a sick man: but who\ncould bear to see him in such a mind?\nHERACLES Thy words show no desire to do my bidding.\nHYLLUS What! When she alone is to blame for my mother's death, and\nfor thy present plight besides? Lives there the man who would make\nsuch choice, unless he were maddened by avenging fiends?\nBetter were it, father, that I too should die, rather than live united\nto the worst of our foes!\nHERACLES He will render no reverence, it seems, to my dying prayer.-\nNay, be sure that the curse of the gods will attend thee for disobedience\nto my voice.\nHYLLUS Ah, thou wilt soon show, methinks, how distempered thou art!\nHERACLES Yea, for thou art breaking the slumber of my plague.\nHYLLUS Hapless that I am! What perplexities surround me!\nHERACLES Yea, since thou deignest not to hear thy sire.\nHYLLUS But must I learn, then, to be impious, my father?\nHERACLES 'Tis not impiety, if thou shalt gladden my heart.\nHYLLUS Dost thou command me, then, to do this deed, as a clear duty?\nHERACLES I command thee,- the gods bear me witness!\nHYLLUS Then will I do it, and refuse not,- calling upon the gods\nto witness thy deed. I can never be condemned for loyalty to thee,\nmy father.\nHERACLES Thou endest well; and to these words, my son, quickly add\nthe gracious deed, that thou mayest lay me on the pyre before any\npain returns to rend or sting me.\nCome, make haste and lift me! This, in truth, is rest from troubles;\nthis is the end, the last end, of Heracles!\nHYLLUS Nothing, indeed, hinders the fulfilment of thy wish, since\nthy command constrains us, my father.\nHERACLES (chanting) Come, then, ere thou arouse this plague, O my\nstubborn soul, give me a curb as of steel on lips set like stone to\nstone, and let no cry escape them; seeing that the deed which thou\nart to do, though done perforce, is yet worthy of thy joy!\nHYLLUS (chanting) Lift him, followers! And grant me full forgiveness\nfor this; but mark the great cruelty of the gods in the deeds that\nare being done. They beget children, they are hailed as fathers, and\nyet they can look upon such sufferings. (The attendants raise HERACLES\non the litter and move slowly off, as HYLLUS chants to the CHORUS\nin the closing lines.) No man foresees the future; but the present\nis fraught with mourning for us, and with shame for the powers above,\nand verily with anguish beyond compare for him who endures this doom.\nMaidens, come ye also, nor linger at the house; ye who have lately\nseen a dread death, with sorrows manifold and strange: and in all\nthis there is nought but Zeus.\nTHE END","title":"The Trachiniae","type":"page"}