{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_53174/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_53174","id":"gutenberg_53174","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53174","summary":null,"tags":["Aeschylus -- Translations into English","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","Mythology, Greek -- Drama"],"text":"\u00c6SCHYLOS\n TRAGEDIES\n AND\n FRAGMENTS\n\n\n _Translated by the late_\n\n E. H. PLUMPTRE D.D.\n\n _Dean of Wells_\n\nWITH NOTES AND RHYMED CHORAL ODES\n\n IN TWO PARTS\n\n BOSTON U.S.A.\n\n D. C. HEATH & CO. PUBLISHERS\n\n 1901\n\n\n\n\n PUBLISHER'S NOTE\n\n\n_The reception accorded to the pocket edition of Dean Plumptre's \u201cDante\u201d\nhas encouraged the publishers to issue in the same_ format _the Dean's\nmasterly translation of the Tragedies of \u00c6schylos._\n\n_In preparing the present issue they have followed the carefully revised\ntext of the second edition, and have included the scholarly and\nsuggestive annotations with which the Dean invariably delighted to\nenrich his work as a translator._\n\n_The seven Plays, which are all that remain of the seventy or eighty\nwith which \u00c6schylos is credited, are presented in their chronological\norder. Passages in which the reading or the rendering is more or less\nconjectural, and in which, accordingly, the aid of the commentator is\nadvisable, are marked by an asterisk; and passages which are regarded as\nspurious by editors of authority have been placed in brackets._\n\n_In translating the Choral Odes the Dean used such unrhymed\nmetres\u2014observing the strophic and antistrophic arrangement\u2014as seemed to\nhim most analogous in their general rhythmical effect to those of the\noriginal. He added in an appendix, however, for the sake of those who\npreferred the rhymed form with which they were familiar, a rhymed\nversion of the chief Odes of the Oresteian trilogy. Those in the other\ndramas did not appear to him to be of equal interest, or to lend\nthemselves with equal facility to a like attempt. The Greek text on\nwhich the translation is based is, for the most part, that of Mr.\nPaley's edition of 1861._\n\n_A translation was also given of the Fragments which have survived the\nwreck of the lost plays, so that the work contains all that has been\nleft to us associated with the name of \u00c6schylos._\n\n_In the present edition a chronological outline has been substituted for\nthe biographical sketch of the poet, who from his daring enlargement of\nthe scope of the drama, the magnificence of his spectacular effects and\nthe splendour of his genius, was rightly honoured as \u201cthe Father of\nTragedy.\u201d_\n\n\n\n\n PART I\n\n\n _Page_\n\n CHRONOLOGICAL OUTLINE OF THE LIFE OF \u00c6SCHYLOS 11\n\n THE PERSIANS 17\n\n THE SEVEN WHO FOUGHT AGAINST THEBES 65\n\n PROMETHEUS BOUND 113\n\n THE SUPPLIANTS 161\n\n\n\n\n PART II\n\n\n _Page_\n\n AGAMEMNON 9\n\n THE LIBATION-POURERS 87\n\n EUMENIDES 137\n\n FRAGMENTS 185\n\n\n RHYMED CHORUSES\n\n _From_ Agamemnon 191\n\n _From_ The Libation-Pourers 210\n\n _From_ Eumenides 219\n\n\n\n\n CHRONOLOGICAL OUTLINE OF THE LIFE OF \u00c6SCHYLOS\n\n\n B.C.\n\n 527 Peisistratos died.\n\n 525 Birth at Eleusis, in Attica, of \u00c6schylos, son of Euphorion.\n\n 510 Expulsion of the Peisistratid\u00e6. Democratic constitution of\n Cleisthenes.\n\n Approximate date of incident in the legend that \u00c6schylos was set\n to watch grapes as they were ripening for the vintage, and fell\n asleep; and lo! as he slept Dionysos appeared to him and bade\n him give himself to write tragedies for the great festival of\n the god. And when he awoke, he found himself invested with new\n powers of thought and utterance, and the work was as easy to him\n as if he had been trained to it for many years (Pausan, _Att._\n i. 21, \u00a7 3).[1]\n\n 500 Birth of Anaxagoras.\n\n 499 \u00c6schylos exhibited his first tragedy, in unsuccessful\n competition with Pratinas and Ch\u0153rilos.\n\n The wooden scaffolding broke beneath the crowd of spectators,\n and the accident led the Athenians to build their first stone\n theatre for the Dionysiac festivals.\n\n Partly out of annoyance at his defeat, it is said, and partly in\n a spirit of adventure, \u00c6schylos sailed for Sicily.\n\n 497 Death of Pythagoras (?).\n\n 495 Birth of Sophocles at Colonos.\n\n 491 \u00c6schylos at Athens.\n\n 490 The Battle of Marathon. \u00c6schylos and his brothers, Kyn\u00e6geiros\n and Ameinias, so distinguished themselves, that the Athenians\n ordered their heroic deeds to be commemorated in a picture.\n\n Death of Theognis (?).\n\n 488 Prize awarded to Simonides for an elegy on Marathon. \u00c6schylos,\n piqued, it is said, at his failure in the competition, again\n departed to Sicily.\n\n 485 Xerxes succeeded Dareios.\n\n 484 \u00c6schylos won, in a dramatic contest with Pratinas, Ch\u0153rilos, and\n Phrynichos, the first of a series of thirteen successes.\n\n Birth of Herodotos.\n\n 480 Athens burnt by Xerxes.\n\n \u00c6schylos fought at Artemisium and Salamis. At Salamis his\n brother Ameinias lost his hand, and was awarded the prize of\n valour.\n\n Sophocles led the Chorus of Victory.\n\n Birth of Euripides.\n\n 479 \u00c6schylos at the Battle of Plat\u00e6a.\n\n 477 Commencement of Athenian supremacy.\n\n 473 \u00c6schylos carried off the first prize with _The Persians_ (the\n first of the extant plays), which belonged to a tetralogy that\n included two tragedies, _Phineus_ and _Glaucos_, and a satyric\n drama, _Prometheus the Fire-stealer_.\n\n _The Persians_ has the interest of being a contemporary record\n of the great sea-fight at Salamis by an eye-witness.\n\n 471 \u00c6schylos appears to have produced this year his next tetralogy,\n of which _The Seven against Thebes_ survives.\n\n The play was directed against the policy of aiming at the\n supremacy of Athens by attacking other Greek States, and, in\n brief, maintained the policy of Aristeides as against that of\n Themistocles.\n\n Birth of Thucydides.\n\n 468 Sophocles gained his first victory in tragedy with his\n _Triptolemos_; \u00c6schylos defeated.\n\n \u00c6schylos charged with impiety, on the ground that he had\n profaned the Mysteries by introducing on the stage rites known\n only to the initiated; tried and acquitted; departure for\n Syracuse.\n\n 467 \u00c6schylos at the court of Hieron at Syracuse, where he is said to\n have composed dramas on local legends, such as _The Women of\n \u00c6tna_.\n\n Death of Simonides.\n\n 461 Ostracism of Kimon; ascendency of Pericles.\n\n 460-59 Probable date of _The Suppliants_, if the play be connected with\n the alliance between Argos and Athens (B.C. 461), and the war\n with the Persian forces in Egypt, upon which the Athenians had\n entered as allies of the Libyan Prince Inaros. (B.C. 460.)\n\n The date of _Prometheus Bound_ has been referred to B.C. 470 on\n the strength of a description of \u00c6tna (vv. 370-380), which is\n supposed to be a reference to the eruption of B.C. 477. Internal\n evidence, however, seems to warrant the view that _The\n Suppliants_ and the _Prometheus Bound_ were separated by only a\n brief interval of time.\n\n 458 \u00c6schylos in Athens. He found new men and new methods;\n institutions, held most sacred as the safeguard of Athenian\n religion, were being criticised and attacked; the Court of\n Areiopagos was threatened with abolition under pretence of\n reform.\n\n Production of the Oresteian Trilogy (or, rather, tetralogy, as\n in addition to the _Agamemnon_, the _Libation-pourers_, and the\n _Eumenides_, there was a satyric drama, _Proteus_).\n\n This trilogy was a conservative protest, religious, social, and\n political, which culminated in the assertion of the divine\n authority of the Areiopagos.\n\n Popular feeling was once more excited against the poet, who left\n Athens never to return, and settled at Gela, in Sicily, under\n the patronage of Hieron.\n\n 456 Death of \u00c6schylos, aged 69.\n\n An oracle foretold that he was to die by a blow from heaven, and\n according to the legend, an eagle, mistaking the poet's head for\n a stone as he sat writing, dropped a tortoise on it to break the\n shell.\n\n He was buried at Gela, and his epitaph, ascribed to himself,\n ran: \u201cBeneath this stone lies \u00c6schylos, son of Euphorion. At\n fertile Gela he died. Marathon can tell of his tested manhood,\n and the Persians who there felt his mettle.\u201d\n\n He is said to have produced between seventy and eighty plays, of\n which only seven survive.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 1:\n\n _Cf._, the legend of Caedmon, \u201cthe Father of English Song.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n THE PERSIANS[2]\n\n\n DRAMATIS PERSON\u00c6\n\n ATOSSA\n\n _Ghost of_ DAREIOS\n\n _Messenger_\n\n XERXES\n\n _Chorus of Persian Elders_\n\n\n_ARGUMENT.\u2014When Xerxes came to the throne of Persia, remembering how his\nfather Dareios had sought to subdue the land of the Hellenes, and\nseeking to avenge the defeat of Datis and Artaphernes on the field of\nMarathon, he gathered together a mighty host of all nations under his\ndominion, and led them against Hellas. And at first he prospered and\nprevailed, crossed the Hellespont, and defeated the Spartans at\nThermopyl\u00e6, and took the city of Athens, from which the greater part of\nits citizens had fled. But at last he and his armament met with utter\noverthrow at Salamis. Meanwhile Atossa, the mother of Xerxes, with her\nhandmaids and the elders of the Persians, waited anxiously at Susa,\nwhere was the palace of the great king, for tidings of her son._\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 2:\n\n _Note._\u2014Within two years after the battle of Salamis, the feeling of\n natural exultation was met by Phrynichos in a tragedy bearing the\n title of _The Ph\u0153nikians_, and having for its subject the defeat of\n Xerxes. As he had come under the displeasure of the Athenian _demos_\n for having brought on the stage the sufferings of their Ionian kinsmen\n in his _Capture of Miletos_, he was apparently anxious to regain his\n popularity by a \u201csensation\u201d drama of another kind; and his success\n seems to have prompted \u00c6schylos to a like attempt five years later,\n B.C. 473. The Tetralogy to which the play belonged, and which gained\n the first prize on its representation, included the two tragedies\n (unconnected in subject) of _Phineus_ and _Glaucos_, and the satyric\n drama of _Prometheus the Fire-stealer_.\n\n The play has, therefore, the interest of being strictly a contemporary\n narrative of the battle of Salamis and its immediate consequences, by\n one who may himself have been present at it, and whose brother\n Ameinias (Herod, viii. 93) distinguished himself in it by a special\n act of heroism. As such, making all allowance for the influence of\n dramatic exigencies, and the tendency to colour history so as to meet\n the tastes of patriotic Athenians, it may claim, where it differs from\n the story told by Herodotos, to be a more trustworthy record. And it\n has, we must remember, the interest of being the only extant drama of\n its class, the only tragedy the subject of which is not taken from the\n cycle of heroic myths, but from the national history of the time. Far\n below the Oresteian Trilogy as it may seem to us as a work of art,\n having more the character of a spectacle than a poem, it was, we may\n well believe, unusually successful at the time, and it is said to have\n been chosen by Hiero for reproduction in Syracuse after \u00c6schylos had\n settled there under his patronage.\n\n\n\n\n THE PERSIANS\n\n\n SCENE.\u2014SUSA, _in front of the palace of_ XERXES, _the tomb\n of_ DAREIOS _occupying the position of the thymele_\n\n _Enter Chorus of_ Persian Elders.\n\n We the title bear of Faithful,[3]\n Friends of Persians gone to Hellas,\n Watchers left of treasure city,[4]\n Gold-abounding, whom, as oldest,\n Xerxes hath himself appointed,\n He, the offspring of Dareios,\n As the warders of his country.\n And about our king's returning,\n And our army's, gold-abounding,\n Over-much, and boding evil, 10\n Does my mind within me shudder\n (For our whole force, Asia's offspring,\n Now is gone), and for our young chief\n Sorely frets: nor courier cometh,\n Nor any horseman, bringing tidings\n To the city of the Persians.\n From Ecbatana departing,\n Susa, or the Kissian fortress,[5]\n Forth they sped upon their journey,\n Some in ships, and some on horses,\n Some on foot, still onward marching,\n In their close array presenting\n Squadrons duly armed for battle: 20\n Then Armistres, Artaphernes,\n Megabazes, and Astaspes,\n Mighty leaders of the Persians,\n Kings, and of the great King servants,[6]\n March, the chiefs of mighty army.\n Archers they and mounted horsemen.\n Dread to look on, fierce in battle,\n Artembares proud, on horseback,\n And Masistres, and Im\u00e6os, 30\n Archer famed, and Pharandakes,\n And the charioteer Sosthanes.\n Neilos mighty and prolific\n Sent forth others, Susikanes,\n Pegastagon, Egypt's offspring,\n And the chief of sacred Memphis;\n Great Arsames, Ariomardos,\n Ruler of primeval Theb\u00e6,\n And the marsh-men,[7] and the rowers,\n Dread, and in their number countless. 40\n And there follow crowds of Lydians,\n Very delicate and stately,[8]\n Who the people of the mainland\n Rule throughout\u2014whom Mitragathes\n And brave Arkteus, kingly chieftains,\n Led, from Sardis, gold-abounding,\n Riding on their many chariots,\n Three or four a-breast their horses,\n Sight to look upon all dreadful.\n And the men of sacred Tm\u00f4los[9]\n Rush to place the yoke of bondage\n On the neck of conquered Hellas. 50\n Mardon, Tharabis, spear-anvils,[10]\n And the Mysians, javelin-darting;[11]\n Babyl\u00f4n too, gold-abounding,\n Sends a mingled cloud, swept onward,\n Both the troops who man the vessels,\n And the skilled and trustful bowmen;\n And the race the sword that beareth,\n Follows from each clime of Asia,\n At the great King's dread commandment.\n These, the bloom of Persia's greatness,\n Now are gone forth to the battle; 60\n And for these, their mother country,\n Asia, mourns with mighty yearning;\n Wives and mothers faint with trembling\n Through the hours that slowly linger,\n Counting each day as it passes.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n The king's great host, destroying cities mighty,\n Hath to the land beyond the sea passed over,\n Crossing the straits of Athamantid Helle,[12] 70\n On raft by ropes secured,\n And thrown his path, compact of many a vessel,\n As yoke upon the neck of mighty ocean.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n Of populous Asia thus the mighty ruler\n 'Gainst all the land his God-sent host directeth\n In two divisions, both by land and water,\n Trusting the chieftains stern,\n The men who drive the host to fight, relentless\u2014\n He, sprung from gold-born race, a hero godlike.[13] 80\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Glancing with darkling look, and eyes as of ravening dragon,\n With many a hand, and many a ship, and Syrian chariot driving,[14]\n He upon spearmen renowned brings battle of conquering arrows.[15]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n Yea, there is none so tried as, withstanding the flood of the mighty,90\n To keep within steadfast bounds that wave of ocean resistless;\n Hard to fight is the host of the Persians, the people stout-hearted.\n\n\n MESODE\n\n Yet ah! what mortal can ward the craft of the God all-deceiving?\n *Who, with a nimble foot, of one leap is easily sovereign?\n For At\u00e8, fawning and kind, at first a mortal betraying, 100\n Then in snares and meshes decoys him,\n Whence one who is but man in vain doth struggle to 'scape from.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n For Fate of old, by the high Gods' decree,\n Prevailed, and on the Persians laid this task,\n Wars with the crash of towers,\n And set the surge of horsemen in array,\n And the fierce sack that lays a city low. 110\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n But now they learnt to look on ocean plains,[16]\n The wide sea hoary with the violent blast,\n Waxing o'er confident\n In cables formed of many a slender strand,\n And rare device of transport for the host.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n So now my soul is torn,\n As clad in mourning, in its sore affright,\n Ah me! ah me! for all the Persian host! 120\n Lest soon our country learn\n That Susa's mighty fort is void of men.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n And through the Kissians' town\n Shall echo heavy thud of hands on breast.\n Woe! woe! when all the crowd of women speak\n This utterance of great grief,\n And byssine robes are rent in agony.\n\n\n STROPHE V\n\n For all the horses strong,\n And host that march on foot,\n Like swarm of bees, have gone with him who led 130\n The vanguard of the host.\n Crossing the sea-washed, bridge-built promontory\n That joins the shores of either continent.[17]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE V\n\n And beds with tears are wet\n In grief for husbands gone,\n And Persian wives are delicate in grief,\n Each yearning for her lord;\n And each who sent her warrior-spouse to battle 140\n Now mourns at home in dreary solitude.\n But come, ye Persians now,\n And sitting in this ancient hall of ours,\n Let us take thought deep-counselling and wise,\n (Sore need is there of that,)\n How fareth now the great king Xerxes, he\n Who calls Dareios sire,\n Bearing the name our father bore of old?\n Is it the archers' bow that wins the day?\n Or does the strength prevail 150\n Of iron point that heads the spear's strong shaft?\n But lo! in glory like the face of gods,\n The mother of my king, my queen, appears:\n Let us do reverent homage at her feet;\n Yea, it is meet that all\n Should speak to her with words of greeting kind.\n\n _Enter_ ATOSSA _in a chariot of state_\n\n _Chor._ O sovereign queen of Persian wives deep-zoned,\n Mother of Xerxes, reverend in thine age,\n Wife of Dareios! hail!\n 'Twas thine to join in wedlock with a spouse\n Whom Persians owned as God,[18]\n And of a God thou art the mother too,\n Unless its ancient Fortune fails our host. 160\n\n _Atoss._ Yes, thus I come, our gold-decked palace leaving,\n The bridal bower Dareios with me slept in.\n Care gnaws my heart, but now I tell you plainly\n A tale, my friends, which may not leave me fearless,\n Lest boastful wealth should stumble at the threshold,\n And with his foot o'erturn the prosperous fortune\n That great Dareios raised with Heaven's high blessing.\n And twofold care untold my bosom haunteth:\n We may not honour wealth that has no warriors,\n Nor on the poor shines light to strength proportioned;\n Wealth without stint we have, yet for our eye we tremble; 170\n For as the eye of home I deem a master's presence.\n Wherefore, ye Persians, aid me now in counsel;\n Trusty and old, in you lies hope of wisdom.\n\n _Chor._ Queen of our land! be sure thou need'st not utter\n Or thing or word twice o'er, which power may point to;\n Thou bid'st us counsel give who fain would serve thee.\n\n _Atoss._ Ever with many visions of the night[19]\n Am I encompassed, since my son went forth,\n Leading a mighty host, with aim to sack\n The land of the Ionians. But ne'er yet 180\n Have I beheld a dream so manifest\n As in the night just past. And this I'll tell thee:\n There stood by me two women in fair robes;\n And this in Persian garments was arrayed,\n And that in Dorian came before mine eyes;\n In stature both of tallest, comeliest size;\n And both of faultless beauty, sisters twain\n Of the same stock.[20] And they twain had their homes,\n One in the Hellenic, one in alien land.\n And these two, as I dreamt I saw, were set 190\n At variance with each other. And my son\n Learnt it, and checked and mollified their wrath,\n And yokes them to his chariot, and his collar\n He places on their necks. And one was proud\n Of that equipment,[21] and in harness gave\n Her mouth obedient; but the other kicked,\n And tears the chariot's trappings with her hands,\n And rushes off uncurbed, and breaks its yoke\n Asunder. And my son falls low, and then\n His father comes, Dareios, pitying him.\n And lo! when Xerxes sees him, he his clothes 200\n Rends round his limbs. These things I say I saw\n In visions of the night; and when I rose,\n And dipped my hands in fountain flowing clear,[22]\n I at the altar stood with hand that bore\n Sweet incense, wishing holy chrism to pour\n To the averting Gods whom thus men worship.\n And I beheld an eagle in full flight\n To Ph\u0153bos' altar-hearth; and then, my friends, 210\n I stood, struck dumb with fear; and next I saw\n A kite pursuing, in her wing\u00e8d course,\n And with his claws tearing the eagle's head,\n Which did nought else but crouch and yield itself.\n Such terrors it has been my lot to see,\n And yours to hear: For be ye sure, my son,\n If he succeed, will wonder-worthy prove;\n But if he fail, still irresponsible\n He to the people, and in either case,\n He, should he but return, is sovereign still.[23]\n\n _Chor._ We neither wish, O Lady, thee to frighten\n O'ermuch with what we say, nor yet encourage:\n But thou, the Gods adoring with entreaties,\n If thou hast seen aught ill, bid them avert it,\n And that all good things may receive fulfilment\n For thee, thy children, and thy friends and country. 220\n And next 'tis meet libations due to offer\n To Earth and to the dead. And ask thy husband,\n Dareios, whom thou say'st by night thou sawest,\n With kindly mood from 'neath the Earth to send thee\n Good things to light for thee and for thine offspring,\n While adverse things shall fade away in darkness.\n Such things do I, a self-taught seer, advise thee\n In kindly mood, and any way we reckon\n That good will come to thee from out these omens.\n\n _Atoss._ Well, with kind heart, hast thou, as first expounder,\n Out of my dreams brought out a welcome meaning\n For me, and for my sons; and thy good wishes,\n May they receive fulfilment! And this also,\n As thou dost bid, we to the Gods will offer 230\n And to our friends below, when we go homeward.\n But first, my friends, I wish to hear of Athens,\n Where in the world do men report it standeth?[24]\n\n _Chor._ Far to the West, where sets our king the Sun-God.\n\n _Atoss._ Was it this city my son wished to capture?\n\n _Chor._ Aye, then would Hellas to our king be subject.\n\n _Atoss._ And have they any multitude of soldiers?\n\n _Chor._ A mighty host, that wrought the Medes much mischief.\n\n _Atoss._ And what besides? Have they too wealth sufficing?\n\n _Chor._ A fount of silver have they, their land's treasure.[25]240\n\n _Atoss._ Have they a host in archers' skill excelling?\n\n _Chor._ Not so, they wield the spear and shield and bucklers.[26]\n\n _Atoss._ What shepherd rules and lords it o'er their people?\n\n _Chor._ Of no man are they called the slaves or subjects.\n\n _Atoss._ How then can they sustain a foe invading?\n\n _Chor._ So that they spoiled Dareios' goodly army.\n\n _Atoss._ Dread news is thine for sires of those who're marching.\n\n _Chor._ Nay, but I think thou soon wilt know the whole truth;\n This running one may know is that of Persian:[27]\n For good or evil some clear news he bringeth. 250\n\n _Enter_ Messenger\n\n _Mess._ O cities of the whole wide land of Asia!\n O soil of Persia, haven of great wealth!\n How at one stroke is brought to nothingness\n Our great prosperity, and all the flower\n Of Persia's strength is fallen! Woe is me!\n 'Tis ill to be the first to bring ill news;\n Yet needs must I the whole woe tell, ye Persians:\n All our barbaric mighty host is lost.[28]\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ O piteous, piteous woe! 260\n O strange and dread event!\n Weep, O ye Persians, hearing this great grief!\n\n _Mess._ Yea, all things there are ruined utterly;\n And I myself beyond all hopes behold\n The light of day at home.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ O'er-long doth life appear\n To me, bowed down with years,\n On hearing this unlooked-for misery.\n\n _Mess._ And I, indeed, being present and not hearing\n The tales of others, can report, ye Persians,\n What ills were brought to pass.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Alas, alas! in vain\n The many-weaponed and commingled host 270\n Went from the land of Asia to invade\n The soil divine of Hellas.\n\n _Mess._ Full of the dead, slain foully, are the coasts\n Of Salamis, and all the neighbouring shore.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Alas, alas! sea-tossed\n The bodies of our friends, and much disstained:\n Thou say'st that they are drifted to and fro\n *In far out-floating garments.[29]\n\n _Mess._ E'en so; our bows availed not, but the host\n Has perished, conquered by the clash of ships.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ Wail, raise a bitter cry 280\n And full of woe, for those who died in fight.\n How every way the Gods have wrought out ill,\n Ah me! ah me, our army all destroyed.\n\n _Mess._ O name of Salamis that most I loathe!\n Ah, how I groan, remembering Athens too!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ Yea, to her enemies\n Athens may well be hateful, and our minds\n Remember how full many a Persian wife 290\n She, for no cause, made widows and bereaved.\n\n _Atoss._ Long time I have been silent in my woe,\n Crushed down with grief; for this calamity\n Exceeds all power to tell the woe, or ask.\n Yet still we mortals needs must bear the griefs\n The Gods send on us. Clearly tell thy tale,\n Unfolding the whole mischief, even though\n Thou groan'st at evils, who there is not dead,\n And which of our chief captains we must mourn,\n And who, being set in office o'er the host,\n Left by their death their office desolate. 300\n\n _Mess._ Xerxes still lives and sees the light of day.\n\n _Atoss._ To my house, then, great light thy words have brought,\n Bright dawn of morning after murky night.\n\n _Mess._ Artembares, the lord of myriad horse,\n On the hard flinty coasts of the Sileni\n Is now being dashed; and valiant Dadakes,\n Captain of thousands, smitten with the spear,\n Leapt wildly from his ship. And Tenagon,\n Best of the true old Bactrians, haunts the soil\n Of Aias' isle; Lilaios, Arsames, 310\n And with them too Argestes, there defeated,\n Hard by the island where the doves abound,[30]\n Beat here and there upon the rocky shore.\n [And from the springs of Neilos, \u00c6gypt's stream,\n Arkteus, Adeues, Pheresseues too,\n These with Pharnuchos in one ship were lost;]\n Matallos, Chrysa-born, the captain bold\n Of myriads, leader he of swarthy horse\n Some thrice ten thousand strong, has fallen low,\n His red beard, hanging all its shaggy length,\n Deep dyed with blood, and purpled all his skin.\n Arabian Magos, Bactrian Artames, 320\n They perished, settlers in a land full rough.\n [Amistris and Amphistreus, guiding well\n The spear of many a conflict, and the noble\n Ariomardos, leaving bitter grief\n For Sardis; and the Mysian Seisames.]\n With twelve score ships and ten came Tharybis;\n Lyrn\u00e6an he in birth, once fair in form,\n He lies, poor wretch, a death inglorious dying:\n And, first in valour proved, Syennesis,\n Kilikian satrap, who, for one man, gave\n Most trouble to his foes, and nobly died. 330\n Of leaders such as these I mention make,\n And out of many evils tell but few.\n\n _Atoss._ Woe, woe! I hear the very worst of ills,\n Shame to the Persians, cause of bitter wail;\n But tell me, going o'er the ground again,\n How great the number of the Hellenes' navy,\n That they presumed with Persia's armament\n To wage their warfare in the clash of ships.\n\n _Mess._ As far as numbers went, be sure the ships\n Of Persia had the better, for the Hellenes 340\n Had, as their total, ships but fifteen score,\n And other ten selected as reserve.[31]\n And Xerxes (well I know it) had a thousand\n Which he commanded\u2014those that most excelled[32]\n In speed were twice five score and seven in number;\n So stands the account. Deem'st thou our forces less\n In that encounter? Nay, some Power above\n Destroyed our host, and pressed the balance down\n With most unequal fortune, and the Gods\n Preserve the city of the Goddess Pallas.\n\n _Atoss._ Is the Athenians' city then unsacked? 350\n\n _Mess._ Their men are left, and that is bulwark strong.[33]\n\n _Atoss._ Next tell me how the fight of ships began.\n Who led the attack? Were those Hellenes the first,\n Or was't my son, exulting in his strength?\n\n _Mess._ The author of the mischief, O my mistress,\n Was some foul fiend or Power on evil bent;\n For lo! a Hellene from the Athenian host[34]\n Came to thy son, to Xerxes, and spake thus,\n That should the shadow of the dark night come,\n The Hellenes would not wait him, but would leap 360\n Into their rowers' benches, here and there,\n And save their lives in secret, hasty flight.\n And he forthwith, this hearing, knowing not\n The Hellene's guile, nor yet the Gods' great wrath,\n Gives this command to all his admirals,\n Soon as the sun should cease to burn the earth\n With his bright rays, and darkness thick invade\n The firmament of heaven, to set their ships\n In threefold lines, to hinder all escape,\n And guard the billowy straits, and others place 370\n In circuit round about the isle of Aias:\n For if the Hellenes 'scaped an evil doom,\n And found a way of secret, hasty flight,\n It was ordained that all should lose their heads.[35]\n Such things he spake from soul o'erwrought with pride,\n For he knew not what fate the Gods would send;\n And they, not mutinous, but prompt to serve,\n Then made their supper ready, and each sailor\n Fastened his oar around true-fitting thole;\n And when the sunlight vanished, and the night\n Had come, then each man, master of an oar, 380\n Went to his ship, and all men bearing arms,\n And through the long ships rank cheered loud to rank;\n And so they sail, as 'twas appointed each,\n And all night long the captains of the fleet\n Kept their men working, rowing to and fro;\n Night then came on, and the Hellenic host\n In no wise sought to take to secret flight.\n And when day, bright to look on with white steeds,\n O'erspread the earth, then rose from the Hellenes 390\n Loud chant of cry of battle, and forthwith\n Echo gave answer from each island rock;\n And terror then on all the Persians fell,\n Of fond hopes disappointed. Not in flight\n The Hellenes then their solemn p\u00e6ans sang:\n But with brave spirit hasting on to battle.\n With martial sound the trumpet fired those ranks;\n And straight with sweep of oars that flew through foam,\n They smote the loud waves at the boatswain's call;\n And swiftly all were manifest to sight. 400\n Then first their right wing moved in order meet;[36]\n Next the whole line its forward course began,\n And all at once we heard a mighty shout,\u2014\n \u201cO sons of Hellenes, forward, free your country;\n Free too your wives, your children, and the shrines\n Built to your fathers' Gods, and holy tombs\n Your ancestors now rest in. Now the fight\n Is for our all.\u201d And on our side indeed\n Arose in answer din of Persian speech,\n And time to wait was over; ship on ship 410\n Dashed its bronze-pointed beak, and first a barque\n Of Hellas did the encounter fierce begin,[37]\n And from Ph\u0153nikian vessel crashes off\n Her carved prow. And each against his neighbour\n Steers his own ship: and first the mighty flood\n Of Persian host held out. But when the ships\n Were crowded in the straits,[38] nor could they give\n Help to each other, they with mutual shocks,\n With beaks of bronze went crushing each the other,\n Shivering their rowers' benches. And the ships\n Of Hellas, with man\u0153uvring not unskilful,\n Charged circling round them. And the hulls of ships 420\n Floated capsized, nor could the sea be seen,\n Strown, as it was, with wrecks and carcases;\n And all the shores and rocks were full of corpses.\n And every ship was wildly rowed in fight,\n All that composed the Persian armament.\n And they, as men spear tunnies,[39] or a haul\n Of other fishes, with the shafts of oars,\n Or spars of wrecks went smiting, cleaving down;\n And bitter groans and wailings overspread\n The wide sea-waves, till eye of swarthy night 430\n Bade it all cease: and for the mass of ills,\n Not, though my tale should run for ten full days,\n Could I in full recount them. Be assured\n That never yet so great a multitude\n Died in a single day as died in this.\n\n _Atoss._ Ah, me! Great then the sea of ills that breaks\n On Persia and the whole barbaric host.\n\n _Mess._ Be sure our evil fate is but half o'er:\n On this has supervened such bulk of woe,\n As more than twice to outweigh what I've told. 440\n\n _Atoss._ And yet what fortune could be worse than this?\n Say, what is this disaster which thou tell'st,\n That turns the scale to greater evils still?\n\n _Mess._ Those Persians that were in the bloom of life,\n Bravest in heart and noblest in their blood,\n And by the king himself deemed worthiest trust,\n Basely and by most shameful death have died.\n\n _Atoss._ Ah! woe is me, my friends, for our ill fate!\n What was the death by which thou say'st they perished?\n\n _Mess._ There is an isle that lies off Salamis,[40]\n Small, with bad anchorage for ships, where Pan, 450\n Pan the dance-loving, haunts the sea-washed coast.\n There Xerxes sends these men, that when their foes,\n Being wrecked, should to the islands safely swim,\n They might with ease destroy th' Hellenic host,\n And save their friends from out the deep sea's paths;\n But ill the future guessing: for when God\n Gave the Hellenes the glory of the battle,\n In that same hour, with arms well wrought in bronze\n Shielding their bodies, from their ships they leapt,\n And the whole isle encircled, so that we 460\n Were sore distressed,[41] and knew not where to turn;\n For here men's hands hurled many a stone at them;\n And there the arrows from the archer's bow\n Smote and destroyed them; and with one great rush,\n At last advancing, they upon them dash\n And smite, and hew the limbs of these poor wretches,\n Till they each foe had utterly destroyed.\n [And Xerxes when he saw how deep the ill,[42]\n Groaned out aloud, for he had ta'en his seat,\n With clear, wide view of all the army round,\n On a high cliff hard by the open sea;\n And tearing then his robes with bitter cry, 470\n And giving orders to his troops on shore,\n He sends them off in foul retreat. This grief\n 'Tis thine to mourn besides the former ills.]\n\n _Atoss._ O hateful Power, how thou of all their hopes\n Hast robbed the Persians! Bitter doom my son\n Devised for glorious Athens, nor did they,\n The invading host who fell at Marathon,\n Suffice; but my son, counting it his task\n To exact requital for it, brought on him\n So great a crowd of sorrows. But I pray,\n As to those ships that have this fate escaped, 480\n Where did'st thou leave them? Can'st thou clearly tell?\n\n _Mess._ The captains of the vessels that were left,\n With a fair wind, but not in meet array,\n Took flight: and all the remnant of the army\n Fell in B\u0153otia\u2014some for stress of thirst\n About the fountain clear, and some of us,\n Panting for breath, cross to the Phokians' land,\n The soil of Doris, and the Melian gulf,\n Where fair Spercheios waters all the plains\n With kindly flood, and then the Ach\u00e6an fields 490\n And city of the Thessali received us,\n Famished for lack of food;[43] and many died\n Of thirst and hunger, for both ills we bore;\n And then to the Magnetian land we came,\n And that of Macedonians, to the stream\n Of Axios, and Bolbe's reed-grown marsh,\n And Mount Pangaios and the Edonian land.\n And on that night God sent a mighty frost,\n Unwonted at that season, sealing up\n The whole course of the Strymon's pure, clear flood;[44]\n And they who erst had deemed the Gods as nought, 500\n Then prayed with hot entreaties, worshipping\n Both earth and heaven. And after that the host\n Ceased from its instant calling on the Gods,\n It crosses o'er the glassy, frozen stream;\n And whosoe'er set forth before the rays\n Of the bright God were shed abroad, was saved;\n For soon the glorious sun with burning blaze\n Reached the mid-stream and warmed it with its flame,\n And they, confused, each on the other fell.\n Blest then was he whose soul most speedily\n Breathed out its life. And those who yet survived\n And gained deliverance, crossing with great toil 510\n And many a pang through Thrak\u00e8, now are come,\n Escaped from perils, no great number they,\n To this our sacred land, and so it groans,\n This city of the Persians, missing much\n Our country's dear-loved youth. Too true my tale,\n And many things I from my speech omit,\n Ills which the Persians suffer at God's hand.\n\n _Chor._ O Power resistless, with what weight of woe\n On all the Persian race have thy feet leapt!\n\n _Atoss._ Ah! woe is me for that our army lost!\n O vision of the night that cam'st in dreams, 520\n Too clearly did'st thou show me of these ills!\n But ye (_to Chorus_) did judge them far too carelessly;\n Yet since your counsel pointed to that course,\n I to the Gods will first my prayer address.\n And then with gifts to Earth and to the Dead,\n Bringing the chrism from my store, I'll come.\n For our past ills, I know, 'tis all too late,\n But for the future, I may hope, will dawn\n A better fortune! But 'tis now your part\n In these our present ills, in counsel faithful\n To commune with the Faithful; and my son, 530\n Should he come here before me, comfort him,\n And home escort him, lest he add fresh ill\n To all these evils that we suffer now. [_Exit_\n\n _Chor._ Zeus our king, who now to nothing\n Bring'st the army of the Persians,\n Multitudinous, much boasting;\n And with gloomy woe hast shrouded\n Both Ecbatana and Susa;\n Many maidens now are tearing\n With their tender hands their mantles, 540\n And with tear-floods wet their bosoms,\n In the common grief partaking;\n And the brides of Persian warriors,\n Dainty even in their wailing,\n Longing for their new-wed husbands,\n Reft of bridal couch luxurious,\n With its coverlet so dainty,\n Losing joy of wanton youth-time,\n Mourn in never-sated wailings.\n And I too in fullest measure\n Raise again meet cry of sorrow,\n Weeping for the loved and lost ones.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n For now the land of Asia mourneth sore, 550\n Left desolate of men,\n 'Twas Xerxes led them forth, woe! woe!\n 'Twas Xerxes lost them all, woe! woe!\n 'Twas Xerxes who with evil counsels sped\n Their course in sea-borne barques.\n Why was Dareios erst so free from harm,\n First bowman of the state,\n The leader whom the men of Susa loved,\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n While those who fought as soldiers or at sea, 560\n These ships, dark-hulled, well-rowed,\n Their own ships bore them on, woe! woe!\n Their own ships lost them all, woe! woe!\n Their own ships, in the crash of ruin urged,\n And by Ionian hands?[45]\n The king himself, we hear, but hardly 'scapes,\n Through Thrak\u00e8's widespread steppes,\n And paths o'er which the tempests wildly sweep.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n And they who perished first, ah me! 570\n Perforce unburied left, alas!\n Are scattered round Kychreia's shore,[46] woe! woe!\n Lament, mourn sore, and raise a bitter cry,\n Grievous, the sky to pierce, woe! woe!\n And let thy mourning voice uplift its strain\n Of loud and full lament.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n Torn by the whirling flood, ah me!\n Their carcases are gnawed, alas!\n By the dumb brood of stainless sea, woe! woe! 580\n And each house mourneth for its vanished lord;\n And childless sires, woe! woe!\n Mourning in age o'er griefs the Gods have sent,\n Now hear their utter loss.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And throughout all Asia's borders\n None now own the sway of Persia,\n Nor bring any more their tribute,\n Owning sway of sovereign master.\n Low upon the Earth, laid prostrate, 590\n Is the strength of our great monarch\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n No more need men keep in silence\n Tongues fast bound: for now the people\n May with freedom speak at pleasure;\n For the yoke of power is broken;\n And blood-stained in all its meadows\n Holds the sea-washed isle of Aias\n What was once the host of Persia.\n\n _Re-enter_ ATOSSA\n\n _Atoss._ Whoe'er, my friends, is vexed in troublous times, 600\n Knows that when once a tide of woe sets in,\n A man is wont to fear in everything;\n But when Fate flows on smoothly, then to trust\n That the same Fate will ever send fair gales.\n So now all these disasters from the Gods\n Seem in mine eyes filled full of fear and dread,\n And in mine ears rings cry unp\u00e6anlike,\n So great a dread of all has seized my soul:\n And therefore now, without or chariot's state\n Or wonted pomp, have I thus issued forth 610\n From out my palace, to my son's sire bringing\n Libations loving, gifts propitiatory,\n Meet for the dead; milk pure and white from cow\n Unblemished, and bright honey that distils\n From the flower-working bee, and water drawn\n From virgin fountain, and the draught unmarred\n From mother wild, bright child of ancient vine;\n And here too of the tree that evermore\n Keeps its fresh life in foliage, the pale olive,\n Is the sweet-smelling fruit, and twin\u00e8d wreaths\n Of flowers, the children of all-bearing earth.[47] 620\n But ye, my friends, o'er these libations poured\n In honour of the dead, chant forth your hymns,\n And call upon Dareios as a God:\n While I will send unto the Gods below\n These votive offerings which the earth shall drink.\n\n [_Goes to the tomb of_ DAREIOS _in the centre\n of the stage_\n\n _Chor._ O royal lady, honoured of the Persians,\n Do thou libations pour\n To the dark chambers of the dead below;\n And we with hymns will pray\n The Powers that act as escorts of the dead\n To give us kindly help beneath the earth.\n But oh, ye holy Ones in darkness dwelling, 630\n Hermes and Earth, and thou, the Lord of Hell,\n Send from beneath a soul\n Up to the light of earth;\n For should he know a cure for these our ills,\n He, he alone of men, their end may tell.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Doth he, the blest one hear,\n The king, like Gods in power,\n Hear me, as I send forth\n My cries in barbarous speech,\n Yet very clear to him,\u2014\n Sad, varied, broken cries\n So as to tell aloud\n Our troubles terrible? 640\n Ah, doth he hear below?\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n But thou, O Earth, and ye,\n The other Lords of those\n Beneath the grave that dwell;\n Grant that the godlike one\n May come from out your home,\n The Persians' mighty God,\n In Susa's palace born;\n Send him, I pray you, up,\n The like of whom the soil\n Of Persia never hid.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Dear was our chief, and dear to us his tomb,\n For dear the life it hides; 650\n Aidoneus, O Aidoneus, send him forth,\n Thou who dost lead the dead to Earth again,\n *Yea, send Dareios.... What a king was he!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n For never did he in war's bloody woe\n Lose all his warrior-host,\n But Heaven-taught Counsellor the Persians called him,\n And Heaven-taught Counsellor in truth he proved,\n Since he still ruled his hosts of subjects well.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n Monarch, O ancient monarch, come, oh, come,\n Come to the summit of sepulchral mound, 660\n Lifting thy foot encased\n In slipper saffron-dyed,\n And giving to our view\n Thy royal tiara's crest:[48]\n Speak, O Dareios, faultless father, speak.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n Yea, come, that thou, O Lord, may'st hear the woes,\n Woes new and strange, our lord has now endured;\n For on us now has fallen\n A dark and Stygian mist,\n Since all the armed youth\n Has perished utterly;\n Speak, O Dareios, faultless father, speak.\n\n\n EPODE\n\n O thou, whose death thy friends\n Bewail with many tears, 670\n *Why thus, O Lord of lords,\n *In double error of wild frenzy born,\n Have all our triremes good\n Been lost to this our land,\n Ships that are ships no more, yea, ships no more?\n\n _The_ Ghost _of_ DAREIOS _appears on the summit of the\n mound_\n\n\n _Dar._ O faithful of the Faithful, ye who were\n Companions of my youth, ye Persian elders,\n\n What troubles is't my country toils beneath?\n The whole plain groans, cut up and furrowed o'er,[49]\n And I, beholding now my queen beloved\n Standing hard by my sepulchre, feared much, 680\n And her libations graciously received;\n But ye wail loud near this my sepulchre,\n And shouting shrill with cries that raise the dead,\n Ye call me with your plaints. No easy task\n Is it to come, for this cause above all,\n That the great Gods who reign below are apter\n To seize men than release: yet natheless I,\n Being great in power among them, now am come.\n Be quick then, that none blame me as too late;[50]\n What new dire evils on the Persians weigh?\n\n _Chor._ I fear to look on thee, 690\n Fear before thee to speak,\n With all the awe of thee I felt of old.\n\n _Dar._ But since I came by thy complaints persuaded,\n From below rising, spin no lengthened tale;\n But shortly, clearly speak, and tell thy story,\n And leave awhile thine awe and fear of me.\n\n _Chor._ I dread thy wish to grant,\n *I dread to say thee nay,[51]\n Saying things that it is hard for friends to speak.\n\n _Dar._ Nay, then, since that old dread of thine prevents thee,\n Do thou [_to_ ATOSSA], the ancient partner of my bed,700\n My noble queen, from these thy plaints and moanings\n Cease, and say something clearly. Human sorrows\n May well on mortals fall; for many evils,\n Some on the sea, and some on dry land also,\n Happen to men if life be far prolong\u00e8d.\n\n _Atoss._ O thou, who in the fate of fair good fortune\n Excelled'st all men, who, while yet thou sawest\n The sun's bright rays, did'st lead a life all blessed,\n Admired, yea, worshipped as a God by Persians,\n Now, too, I count thee blest in that thou died'st\n Before thou saw'st the depth of these our evils.\n For now, Dareios, thou shalt hear a story\n Full, yet in briefest moment. Utter ruin,\n To sum up all, is come upon the Persians. 710\n\n _Dar._ How so? Hath plague or discord seized my country?\n\n _Atoss._ Not so, but all the host is lost near Athens.\n\n _Dar._ What son of mine led that host hither, tell me?[52]\n\n _Atoss._ Xerxes o'er-hasty, emptying all the mainland.\n\n _Dar._ Made he this mad attempt by land or water?\n\n _Atoss._ By both; two lines there were of two great armies.\n\n _Dar._ How did so great a host effect its passage?\n\n _Atoss._ He bridged the straits of Helle, and found transit.\n\n _Dar._ Did he prevail to close the mighty Bosporos?\n\n _Atoss._ So was it; yet some God, it may be, helped him. 720\n\n _Dar._ Alas! some great God came and stole his wisdom.\n\n _Atoss._ Yea, the end shows what evil he accomplished.\n\n _Dar._ And how have they fared, that ye thus bewail them?\n\n _Atoss._ The naval host, o'ercome, wrecked all the land-force.\n\n _Dar._ What! Is the whole host by the spear laid prostrate?\n\n _Atoss._ For this doth Susa's city mourn her losses.\n\n _Dar._ Alas, for that brave force and mighty army!\n\n _Atoss._ The Bactrians all are lost, not old men merely.\n\n _Dar._ Poor fool! how he hath lost his host's fresh vigour!\n\n _Atoss._ Xerxes, they say, alone, with but few others.... 730\n\n _Dar._ What is his end, and where? Is there no safety?\n\n _Atoss._ Was glad to gain the bridge that joins two mainlands.\n\n _Dar._ And has he reached this mainland? Is that certain?\n\n _Atoss._ Yea, the report holds good. Here is no discord.[53]\n\n _Dar._ Ah me! Full swift the oracles' fulfilment!\n And on my son hath Zeus their end directed.\n I hoped the Gods would work them out more slowly;\n But when man hastens, God too with him worketh.\n And now for all my friends a fount of evils\n Seems to be found. And this my son, not knowing, 740\n In youth's rash mood, hath wrought; for he did purpose\n To curb the sacred Hellespont with fetters,\n As though it were his slave, and sought to alter\n The stream of God, the Bosporos, full-flowing,\n And his well-hammered chains around it casting,\n Prevailed to make his mighty host a highway;\n And though a mortal, thought, with no good counsel,\n To master all the Gods, yea, e'en Poseidon.\n Nay, was not my poor son oppressed with madness?\n And much I fear lest all my heaped-up treasure\n Become the spoil and prey of the first comer.\n\n _Atoss._ Such things the o'er-hasty Xerxes learns from others,750\n By intercourse with men of evil counsel;[54]\n Who say that thou great wealth for thy son gained'st\n By thy spear's might, while he with coward spirit\n Does his spear-work indoors, and nothing addeth\n Unto his father's glory. Such reproaches\n Hearing full oft from men of evil counsel,\n He planned this expedition against Hellas.\n\n _Dar._ Thus then a deed portentous hath been wrought,\n Ever to be remembered, such as ne'er\n Falling on Susa made it desolate,\n Since Zeus our king ordained this dignity,\n That one man should be lord of Asia's plains.\n Where feed her thousand flocks, and hold the rod 760\n Of sovran guidance: for the Median first[55]\n Ruled o'er the host, and then his son in turn\n Finished the work, for reason steered his soul;\n And Kyros came as third, full richly blest,\n And ruled, and gained great peace for all his friends;\n And he won o'er the Lydians and the Phrygians,\n And conquered all the wide Ionian land;[56]\n For such his wisdom, he provoked not God.\n And Kyros' son came fourth, and ruled the host;\n And Mardos fifth held sway, his country's shame,[57] 770\n Shame to the ancient throne; and him with guile\n Artaphrenes[58] the brave smote down, close leagued\n With men, his friends, to whom the work was given.\n [Sixth, Maraphis and seventh Artaphrenes,]\n And I obtained this post that I desired,\n And with a mighty host great victories won.\n Yet no such evil brought I on the state;\n But my son Xerxes, young, thinks like a youth,\n And all my solemn charge remembers not;\n For know this well, my old companions true, 780\n That none of us who swayed the realm of old,\n Did e'er appear as working ills like these.\n\n _Chor._ What then, O King Dareios? To what end\n Lead'st thou thy speech? And how, in this our plight,\n Could we, the Persian people, prosper best?\n\n _Dar._ If ye no more attack the Hellenes' land,\n E'en though the Median host outnumbers theirs.\n To them the very land is true ally.\n\n _Chor._ What meanest thou? How fights the land for them?\n\n _Dar._ *It slays with famine those vast multitudes.790\n\n _Chor._ We then a host, select, compact, will raise.\n\n _Dar._ Nay, e'en the host which now in Hellas stays[59]\n Will ne'er return in peace and safety home.\n\n _Chor._ How say'st thou? Does not all the barbarous host\n Cross from Europa o'er the straits of Hell\u00e8?\n\n _Dar._ But few of many; if 'tis meet for one\n Who looks upon the things already done\n To trust the oracles of Gods; for they,\n Not these or those, but all, are brought to pass:\n If this be so, then, resting on vain hopes,[60] 800\n He leaves a chosen portion of his host:\n And they abide where, watering all the plain,\n As\u00f4pos pours his fertilising stream\n Dear to B\u0153otian land; and there of ills\n The topmost crown awaits them, penalty\n Of wanton outrage and of godless thoughts;\n For they to Hellas coming, held not back\n In awe from plundering sculptured forms of Gods[61]\n And burning down their temples; and laid low\n Are altars, and the shrines of Gods o'erthrown,\n E'en from their base. They therefore having wrought\n Deeds evil, now are suffering, and will suffer\n Evil not less, and not as yet is seen 810\n *E'en the bare groundwork of the ills, but still\n They grow up to completeness. Such a stream\n Of blood and slaughter soon shall flow from them\n By Dorian spear upon Plat\u00e6an ground,[62]\n And heaps of corpses shall to children's children,\n Though speechless, witness to the eyes of men\n That mortal man should not wax overproud;\n For wanton pride from blossom grows to fruit,\n The full corn in the ear, of utter woe,\n And reaps a tear-fraught harvest. Seeing then,\n Such recompense of these things, cherish well\n The memory of Athens and of Hellas; 820\n Let no man in his scorn of present fortune,\n And thirst for other, mar his good estate;\n Zeus is the avenger of o'er-lofty thoughts,\n A terrible controller. Therefore now,\n Since voice of God bids him be wise of heart,\n Admonish him with counsel true and good\n To cease his daring sacrilegious pride;\n And thou, O Xerxes' mother, old and dear,\n Go to thy home, and taking what apparel\n Is fitting, go to meet thy son; for all 830\n The costly robes around his limbs are torn\n To rags and shreds in grief's wild agony.\n But do thou gently soothe his soul with words;\n For he to thee alone will deign to hearken;\n But I must leave the earth for darkness deep:\n And ye, old men, farewell, although in woe,\n And give your soul its daily bread of joy;\n For to the dead no profit bringeth wealth.\n\n [_Exit, disappearing in the earth._\n\n\n _Chor._ I shudder as I hear the many woes\n Both past and present that on Persians fall. 840\n\n _Atoss._ [O God, how many evils fall on me![63]\n And yet this one woe biteth more than all,\n Hearing my son's shame in the rags of robes\n That clothe his limbs. But I will go and take\n A fit adornment from my house, and try\n To meet my son. We will not in his troubles\n Basely abandon him whom most we love.]\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Ah me! a glorious and a blessed life\n Had we as subjects once,\n When our old king, Dareios, ruled the land, 850\n Meeting all wants, dispassionate, supreme,\n A monarch like a God.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n For first we showed the world our noble hosts;\n And laws of tower-like strength\n Directed all things; and our backward march\n After our wars unhurt, unsuffering led\n Our prospering armies home.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n How many towns he took,\n Not crossing Halys' stream[64] 860\n Nor issuing from his home,\n There where in Strymon's sea,\n The Acheloian Isles[65]\n Lie near the coasts of Thrakian colonies.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n And those that lie outside the \u00c6g\u00e6an main,\n The cities girt with towers,\n They hearkened to our king;\n And those who boast their site\n By Hell\u00e8's full, wide stream,\n Propontis with its bays, and mouth of Pontos broad. 870\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And all the isles that lie\n Facing the headland jutting in the sea,[66]\n Close bound to this our coast;\n Lesbos, and Samos with its olive groves;\n Chios and Paros too;\n Naxos and Myconos, and Andros too\n On Tenos bordering.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And so he ruled the isles\n That lie midway between the continents,\n Lemnos, and Icaros,\n Rhodes and Cnidos and the Kyprian towns, 880\n Paphos and Soli famed,\n And with them Salamis,\n Whose parent city now our groans doth cause;[67]\n\n\n EPODE\n\n And many a wealthy town and populous,\n Of Hellenes in the Ionian region dwelling,\n He by his counsel ruled;\n His was the unconquered strength of warrior host,\n Allies of mingled race.\n And now, beyond all doubt,\n In strife of war defeated utterly,\n We find this high estate\n Through wrath of God o'erturned, 890\n And we are smitten low,\n By bitter loss at sea.\n\n _Enter_ XERXES _in kingly apparel, but with his robes rent,\n with_ Attendants.\n\n _Xer._ Oh, miserable me!\n Who this dark hateful doom\n That I expected least\n Have met with as my lot,\n With what stern mood and fierce\n Towards the Persian race\n Is God's hand laid on us!\n What woe will come on me?\n Gone is my strength of limb,\n As I these elders see.\n Ah, would to Heaven, O Zeus,\n That with the men who fell\n Death's doom had covered me! 900\n\n _Chor._ Ah, woe, O King, woe! woe!\n For the army brave in fight,\n And our goodly Persian name,\n And the fair array of men,\n Whom God hath now cut off!\n And the land bewails its youth\n Who for our Xerxes fell,\n For him whose deeds have filled\n *Hades with Persian souls;\n For many heroes now\n *Are Hades-travellers,\n Our country's chosen flower,\n Mighty with darts and bow;\n *For lo! the myriad mass 910\n Of men has perished quite.\n Woe, woe for our fair fame!\n And Asia's land, O King,\n Is terribly, most terribly, o'erthrown.\n\n _Xer._ I then, oh misery!\n Have to my curse been proved\n Sore evil to my country and my race.\n\n _Chor._ Yea, and on thy return\n I will lift up my voice in wailing loud,\n Cry of sore-troubled thought,\n As of a mourner born\n In Mariandynian land,[68] 920\n Lament of many tears.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Xer._ Yea, utter ye a wail\n Dreary and full of grief;\n For lo! the face of Fate\n Against me now is turned.\n\n _Chor._ Yea, I will raise a cry\n Dreary and full of grief,\n Giving this tribute due\n To all the people's woes,\n And all our loss at sea,\n Troubles of this our State\n That mourneth for her sons;\n Yea, I will wail full sore,\n With flood of bitter tears.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Xer._ For Ares, he whose might\n Was in our ships' array,\n Giving victory to our foes,\n Has in Ionians, yea,\n Ionians, found his match,\n And from the dark sea's plain,\n And that ill-omened shore,\n Has a fell harvest reaped.\n\n _Chor._ Yea, wail, search out the whole;\n Where are our other friends?\n Where thy companions true,\n Such as Pharandakes,\n Susas, Pelagon, Psammis, Dotamas,\n Agdabatas, Susiskanes,\n From Ecbatana who started?\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Xer._ I left them low in death,\n Falling from Tyrian ship,\n On Salaminian shores,\n Beating now here, now there,\n On the hard rock-girt coast.\n\n _Chor._ Ah, where Pharnuchos then,\n And Ariomardos brave?\n And where Sevalkes king,\n Lil\u00e6os proud of race,\n Memphis and Tharybis,\n Masistras, and Artembares, 950\n Hyst\u00e6chmas? This I ask.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n _Xer._ Woe! woe is me!\n They have looked on at Athens' ancient towers,\n Her hated towers, ah me!\n All, as by one fell stroke,\n Unhappy in their fate\n Lie gasping on the shore.\n\n _Chor._ And he, thy faithful Eye,[69] 960\n Who told the Persian host,\n Myriads on myriads o'er,[70]\n Alpistos, son and heir\n Of Batan\u00f4chos old\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n And the son of brave Sesames,\n Son himself of Megabates?\n Parthos, and the great \u0152bares,\n Did'st thou leave them, did'st thou leave them?\n Ah, woe! ah, woe is me,\n For those unhappy ones!\n Thou to the Persians brave\n Tellest of ills on ills.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n _Xer._ Ah, thou dost wake in me\n The memory of the spell of yearning love\n For comrades brave and true,\n Telling of cursed ills,\n Yea, cursed, hateful doom; 970\n And lo, within my frame\n My heart cries out, cries out.\n\n _Chor._ Yea, another too we long for,\n Xanthes, captain of ten thousand\n Mardian warriors, and Anchares\n Arian born, and great Arsakes\n And Di\u00e6xis, lords of horsemen,\n Kigdagatas and Lythimnas,\n Tolmos, longing for the battle: 980\n *Much I marvel, much I marvel,[71]\n For they come not, as the rear-guard\n Of thy tent on chariot mounted.[72]\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n _Xer._ Gone those rulers of the army.\n\n _Chor._ Gone are they in death inglorious.\n\n _Xer._ Ah woe! ah woe! Alas! alas!\n\n _Chor._ Ah! the Gods have sent upon us\n Ill we never thought to look on,\n Eminent above all others;\n Ne'er hath At\u00e8 seen its equal.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n Smitten we by many sorrows, 990\n Such as come on men but seldom.\n\n _Chor._ Smitten we, 'tis all too certain....\n\n _Xer._ Fresh woes! fresh woes! ah me!\n\n _Chor._ Now with adverse turn of fortune,\n With Ionian seamen meeting,\n Fails in war the race of Persians.\n\n\n STROPHE V\n\n _Xer._ Too true. Yea I and that vast host of mine\n Are smitten down.\n\n _Chor._ Too true\u2014the Persians' majesty and might\n Have perished utterly.\n\n _Xer._ See'st thou this remnant of my armament?\n\n _Chor._ I see it, yea, I see. 1000\n\n _Xer._ (_pointing to his quiver._) Dost see thou that\n which arrows wont to hold?...\n\n _Chor._ What speak'st thou of as saved?\n\n _Xer._ This treasure-store for darts.\n\n _Chor._ Few, few of many left!\n\n _Xer._ Thus we all helpers lack.\n\n _Chor._ Ionian soldiers flee not from the spear.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE V\n\n _Xer._ Yea, very brave are they, and I have seen\n Unlooked-for woe.\n\n _Chor._ Wilt tell of squadron of our sea-borne ships\n Defeated utterly?\n\n _Xer._ I tore my robes at this calamity.\n\n _Chor._ Ah me, ah me, ah me. 1010\n\n _Xer._ Ay, more than all 'ah me's'!\n\n _Chor._ Twofold and threefold ills!\n\n _Xer._ Grievous to us\u2014but joy,\n Great joy, to all our foes!\n\n _Chor._ Lopped off is all our strength.\n\n _Xer._ Stripped bare of escort I!\n\n _Chor._ Yea, by sore loss at sea\n Disastrous to thy friends.\n\n\n STROPHE VI\n\n _Xer._ Weep for our sorrow, weep,\n Yea, go ye to the house.\n\n _Chor._ Woe for our griefs, woe, woe!\n\n _Xer._ Cry out an echoing cry.\n\n _Chor._ Ill gift of ills on ills. 1020\n\n _Xer._ Weep on in wailing chant.\n\n _Chor._ Oh! ah! Oh! ah!\n\n _Xer._ Grievous our bitter woes.\n\n _Chor._ Ah me, I mourn them sore.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VI\n\n _Xer._ Ply, ply your hands and groan;\n Yea, for my sake bewail.\n\n _Chor._ I weep in bitter grief.\n\n _Xer._ Cry out an echoing cry.\n\n _Chor._ Yea, we may raise our voice,\n O Lord and King, in wail.\n\n _Xer._ Raise now shrill cry of woe.\n\n _Chor._ Ah me! Ah! Woe is me! 1030\n\n _Xer._ Yea, with it mingle dark....\n\n _Chor._ And bitter, grievous blows.\n\n\n STROPHE VII\n\n _Xer._ Yea, beat thy breast, and cry\n After the Mysian type.\n\n _Chor._ Oh, misery! oh, misery!\n\n _Xer._ Yea, tear the white hair off thy flowing beard.\n\n _Chor._ Yea; with clenched hands, with clench\u00e8d hands, I say,\n In very piteous guise.\n\n _Xer._ Cry out, cry out aloud.\n\n _Chor._ That also will I do.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VII\n\n _Xer._ And with thy fingers tear\n Thy bosom's folded robe.\n\n _Chor._ Oh, misery! oh, misery! 1040\n\n _Xer._ Yea, tear thy hair in wailing for our host.\n\n _Chor._ Yea, with clenched hands, I say, with clench\u00e8d hands,\n In very piteous guise.\n\n _Xer._ Be thine eyes wet with tears.\n\n _Chor._ Behold the tears stream down.\n\n\n EPODE\n\n _Xer._ Raise a re-echoing cry.\n\n _Chor._ Ah woe! ah woe!\n\n _Xer._ Go to thy home with wailing loud and long.\n\n _Chor._ O land of Persia, full of lamentations!\n\n _Xer._ Through the town raise your cries.\n\n _Chor._ We raise them, yea, we raise. 1050\n\n _Xer._ Wail, wail, ye men that walked so daintily.\n\n _Chor._ O land of Persia, full of lamentations!\n Woe; woe!\n\n _Xer._ Alas for those who in the triremes perished!\n\n _Chor._ With broken cries of woe will I escort thee.\n\n [_Exeunt in procession, wailing, and\n rending their robes._\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 3:\n\n \u201cThe Faithful,\u201d or \u201ctrusty,\u201d seems to have been a special title of\n honour given to the veteran councillors of the king (Xenoph. _Anab._\n i. 15), just as that of the \u201cImmortals\u201d was chosen for his body-guard\n (Herod, vii. 83).\n\nFootnote 4:\n\n Susa was pre-eminently the treasury of the Persian kings (Herod, v.\n 49; Strabo, xv. p. 731), their favourite residence in spring, as\n Ecbatana in Media was in summer and Babylon in winter.\n\nFootnote 5:\n\n Kissia was properly the name of the district in which Susa stood; but\n here, and in v. 123, it is treated as if it belonged to a separate\n city. Throughout the play there is, indeed, a lavish use of Persian\n barbaric names of persons and places, without a very minute regard to\n historical accuracy.\n\nFootnote 6:\n\n Here, as in Herodotos and Greek writers generally, the title, \u201cthe\n King,\u201d or \u201cthe great King,\u201d was enough. It could be understood only of\n the Persian. The latter name had been borne by the kings of Assyria (2\n Kings xviii. 28). A little later it passed into the fuller, more\n boastful form of \u201cThe King of kings.\u201d\n\nFootnote 7:\n\n The inhabitants of the Delta of the Nile, especially those of the\n marshy districts near the Heracleotic mouth, were famed as supplying\n the best and bravest soldiers of any part of Egypt.\u2014Comp. Thucyd. i.\n 110.\n\nFootnote 8:\n\n The epithet was applied probably by \u00c6schylos to the Lydians properly\n so called, the barbaric race with whom the Hellenes had little or\n nothing in common. They, in dress, diet, mode of life, their distaste\n for the contests of the arena, seemed to the Greeks the very type of\n effeminacy. The Ionian Greeks, however, were brought under the same\n influence, and gradually acquired the same character. The suppression\n of the name of the Ionians in the list of the Persian forces may be\n noticed as characteristic. The Athenian poet would not bring before an\n Athenian audience the shame of their Asiatic kinsmen.\n\nFootnote 9:\n\n Tm\u00f4los, sacred as being the mythical birth-place of Dionysos.\n\nFootnote 10:\n\n \u201cSpear-anvils,\u201d _sc._, meeting the spear of their foes as the anvils\n would meet it, turning its point, themselves steadfast and immovable.\n\nFootnote 11:\n\n So Herodotos (vii. 74) in his account of the army of Xerxes describes\n the Mysians as using for their weapons those darts or \u201cjavelins\u201d made\n by hardening the ends in the fire.\n\nFootnote 12:\n\n Helle the daughter of Athamas, from whom the Hellespont took its name.\n For the description of the pontoons formed by boats, which were moored\n together with cables and finally covered with faggots, comp. Herod,\n vii. 36.\n\nFootnote 13:\n\n \u201cGold-born,\u201d _sc._, descended from Perseus, the child of Dana\u00eb.\n\nFootnote 14:\n\n Syrian, either in the vague sense in which it became almost synonymous\n with Assyrian, or else showing that Syria, properly so called,\n retained the fame for chariots which it had had at a period as early\n as the time of the Hebrew Judges (Judg. v. 3). Herodotos (vii. 140)\n gives an Oracle of Delphi in which the same epithet appears.\n\nFootnote 15:\n\n The description, though put into the mouth of Persians, is meant to\n flatter Hellenic pride. The Persians and their army were for the most\n part light-armed troops only, barbarians equipped with javelins or\n bows. In the sculptures of Persepolis, as in those of Nineveh and\n Khorsabad, this mode of warfare is throughout the most conspicuous.\n They, the Hellenes, were the _hoplites_, warriors of the spear and the\n shield, the cuirass and the greaves.\n\nFootnote 16:\n\n A touch of Athenian exultation in their life as seamen. To them the\n sea was almost a home. They were familiar with it from childhood. To\n the Persians it was new and untried. They had a new lesson to learn,\n late in the history of the nation, late in the lives of individual\n soldiers.\n\nFootnote 17:\n\n The bridge of boats, with the embankment raised upon it, is thought of\n as a new headland putting out from the one shore and reaching to the\n other.\n\nFootnote 18:\n\n Stress is laid by the Hellenic poet, as in the _Agamemnon_ (v. 895),\n and in v. 707 of this play, on the tendency of the East to give to its\n kings the names and the signs of homage which were due only to the\n Gods. The Hellenes might deify a dead hero, but not a living\n sovereign. On different grounds the Jews shrank, as in the stories of\n Nebuchadnezzar and Dareios (Dan. iii. 6), from all such acts.\n\nFootnote 19:\n\n In the Greek, as in the translation, there is a change of metre,\n intended apparently to represent the transition from the tone of eager\n excitement to the ordinary level of discourse.\n\nFootnote 20:\n\n With reference either to the _mythos_ that Asia and Europa were both\n daughters of Okeanos, or to the historical fact that the Asiatic\n Ionians and the Dorians of Europe were both of the same Hellenic\n stock. The contrast between the long flowing robes of the Asiatic\n women, and the short, scanty kilt-like dress of those of Sparta must\n be borne in mind if we would see the picture in its completeness.\n\nFootnote 21:\n\n Athenian pride is flattered with the thought that they had resisted\n while the Ionian Greeks had submitted all too willingly to the yoke of\n the Barbarian.\n\nFootnote 22:\n\n Lustrations of this kind, besides their general significance in\n cleansing from defilement, had a special force as charms to turn aside\n dangers threatened by foreboding dreams. Comp. Aristoph. _Frogs_, v.\n 1264; Persius, _Sat._ ii. 16.\n\nFootnote 23:\n\n The political bearing of the passage as contrasting this\n characteristic of the despotism of Persia with the strict account to\n which all Athenian generals were subject, is, of course, unmistakable.\n\nFootnote 24:\n\n The question, which seems to have rankled in the minds of the\n Athenians, is recorded as an historical fact, and put into the mouth\n of Dareios by Herodotos (v. 101). He had asked it on hearing that\n Sardis had been attacked and burnt by them.\n\nFootnote 25:\n\n The words point to the silver mines of Laureion, which had been worked\n under Peisistratos, and of which this is the first mention in Greek\n literature.\n\nFootnote 26:\n\n Once more the contrast between the Greek _hoplite_ and the light-armed\n archers of the invaders is dwelt upon. The next answer of the Chorus\n dwells upon the deeper contrast, then prominent in the minds of all\n Athenians, between their democratic freedom and the despotism of\n Persia. Comp. Herod. v. 78.\n\nFootnote 27:\n\n The system of postal communications by means of couriers which Dareios\n had organised had made their speed in running proverbial (Herod. vii.\n 97).\n\nFootnote 28:\n\n With the characteristic contempt of a Greek for other races, \u00c6schylos\n makes the Persians speak of themselves throughout as 'barbarians,'\n 'barbaric.'\n\nFootnote 29:\n\n Perhaps\u2014 \u201cOn planks that floated onward,\u201d\n or\u2014 \u201cOn land and sea far spreading.\u201d\n\nFootnote 30:\n\n Possibly Salamis itself, as famed for the doves which were reared\n there as sacred to Aphrodite, but possibly also one of the smaller\n islands in the Saronic gulf, which the epithet would be enough to\n designate for an Athenian audience. The \u201ccoasts of the Sileni\u201d in v.\n 305 are identified by scholiasts with Salamis.\n\nFootnote 31:\n\n Perhaps\u2014\u201cAnd ten of these selected as reserve.\u201d\n\nFootnote 32:\n\n As regards the number of the Persian ships, 1000 of average, and 207\n of special swiftness. \u00c6schylos agrees with Herodotos, who gives the\n total of 1207. The latter, however, reckons the Greek ships not at\n 310, but 378 (vii. 89, viii. 48).\n\nFootnote 33:\n\n The fact that Athens had actually been taken, and its chief buildings\n plundered and laid waste, was, of course, not a pleasant one for the\n poet to dwell on. It could hardly, however, be entirely passed over,\n and this is the one allusion to it. In the truest sense it was still\n \u201cunsacked:\u201d it had not lost its most effective defence, its most\n precious treasure.\n\nFootnote 34:\n\n As the story is told by Herodotos (vii. 75), this was Sikinnos, the\n slave of Themistocles, and the stratagem was the device of that\n commander to save the Greeks from the disgrace and ruin of a _sauve\n qui peut_ flight in all directions.\n\nFootnote 35:\n\n The Greeks never beheaded their criminals, and the punishment is\n mentioned as being specially characteristic of the barbaric Persians.\n\nFootnote 36:\n\n The \u00c6ginetans and Megarians, according to the account preserved by\n Diodoros (xi. 18), or the Laced\u00e6monians, according to Herodotos (viii.\n 65).\n\nFootnote 37:\n\n This may be meant to refer to the achievements of Ameinias of Pallene,\n who appears in the traditional life of \u0152schylos as his youngest\n brother.\n\nFootnote 38:\n\n _Sc._, in Herod. viii. 60, the strait between Salamis and the\n mainland.\n\nFootnote 39:\n\n Tunny-fishing has always been prominent in the occupations on the\n Mediterranean coasts, and the sailors who formed so large a part of\n every Athenian audience would be familiar with the process here\n described, of striking or harpooning them. Aristophanes (_Wasps_,\n 1087) coins (or uses) the word \u201cto tunny\u201d (\u03b8\u03c5\u03bd\u03bd\u03ac\u03b6\u03c9) to express the\n act. Comp. Herod. i. 62.\n\nFootnote 40:\n\n _Sc._, Psyttaleia, lying between Salamis and the mainland. Pausanias\n (i. 36-82) describes it in his time as having no artistic shrine or\n statue, but full everywhere of roughly carved images of Pan, to whom\n the island was sacred. It lay just opposite the entrance to the\n Peir\u00e6os. The connexion of Pan with Salamis and its adjacent islands\n seems implied in Sophocles, _Aias_, 695.\n\nFootnote 41:\n\n The man\u0153uvre was, we learn from Herodotos (viii. 95), the work of\n Aristeides, the personal friend of \u00c6schylos, and the statesman with\n whose policy he had most sympathy.\n\nFootnote 42:\n\n The lines are noted as probably a spurious addition, by a weaker hand,\n to the text, as introducing surplusage, as inconsistent with\n Herodotos, and as faulty in their metrical structure.\n\nFootnote 43:\n\n So Herodotos (viii. 115) describes them as driven by hunger to eat\n even grass and leaves.\n\nFootnote 44:\n\n No trace of this passage over the frozen Strymon appears in Herodotos,\n who leaves the reader to imagine that it was crossed, as before, by a\n bridge. It is hardly, indeed, consistent with dramatic probability\n that the courier should have remained to watch the whole retreat of\n the defeated army; and on this and other grounds, the latter part of\n the speech has been rejected by some critics as a later addition.\n\nFootnote 45:\n\n The Ionians, not of the Asiatic Ionia, but of Attica.\n\nFootnote 46:\n\n Kychreia, the archaic name of Salamis.\n\nFootnote 47:\n\n The ritual described is Hellenic rather than Persian, and takes its\n place (Soph. _Electr._ 836; Eurip. _Iphig. Taur._ 583; Homer, _Il._\n xxiii. 219) as showing what offerings were employed to soothe or call\n up the spirits of the dead. Comp. Pliny, _Hist. Nat._ xxx.\n\nFootnote 48:\n\n The description obviously gives the state dress of the Persian kings.\n They alone wore the tiara erect. Xen. _Kyrop._ viii. 3, 13.\n\nFootnote 49:\n\n Either that he has felt the measured tread of the mourners round his\n tomb, as they went wailing round and round, or that he has heard the\n rush of armies, and seen the plain tracked by chariot-wheels, and\n comes, not knowing all these things, to learn what it means.\n\nFootnote 50:\n\n The words point to the widespread belief that when the souls of the\n dead were permitted to return to the earth, it was with strict\n limitations as to the time of their leave of absence.\n\nFootnote 51:\n\n Perhaps\u2014\u201cI dread to speak the truth.\u201d\n\nFootnote 52:\n\n According to Herodotos (vii. 225) two brothers of Xerxes fell at\n Thermopyl\u00e6.\n\nFootnote 53:\n\n As Herodotos (viii. 117) tells the story, the bridge had been broken\n by the tempest before Xerxes reached it.\n\nFootnote 54:\n\n Probably Mardonios and Onomacritos the Athenian soothsayer are\n referred to, who, according to Herodotos (vii. 6, viii. 99) were the\n chief instigators of the expedition.\n\nFootnote 55:\n\n Astyages, the father-in-law of Kyaxares and grandfather of Kyros. In\n this case \u00c6schylos must be supposed to accept Xenophon's statement\n that Kyaxares succeeded to Astyages. Possibly, however, the Median may\n be Kyaxares I., the father of Astyages, and so the succession here\n would harmonise with that of Herodotos. The whole succession must be\n looked on as embodying the loose, floating notions of the Athenians as\n to the history of their great enemy, rather than as the result of\n inquiry.\n\nFootnote 56:\n\n Stress is laid on the violence to which the Asiatic Ionians had\n succumbed, and their resistance to which distinguished them from the\n Lydians or Phrygians, whose submission had been voluntary.\n\nFootnote 57:\n\n Mardos. Under this name we recognise the Pseudo-Smerdis of Herodotos\n (iii. 67), who, by restoring the dominion of the Median Magi, the\n caste to which he himself belonged, brought shame upon the Persians.\n\nFootnote 58:\n\n Possibly another form of Intaphernes, who appears in Herodotos (iii.\n 70) as one of the seven conspirators against the Magian\n Pseudo-Smerdis.\n\nFootnote 59:\n\n The force of 300,000 men left in Greece under Mardonios (Herod. viii.\n 113), afterwards defeated at Plat\u00e6a.\n\nFootnote 60:\n\n Comp. the speech of Mardonios urging his plan on Xerxes (Herod. viii.\n 100).\n\nFootnote 61:\n\n This was of course a popular topic with the Athenians, whose own\n temples had been outraged. But other sanctuaries also, the temples at\n Delphi and Ab\u00e6, had shared the same fate, and these sins against the\n Gods of Hellas were naturally connected in the thoughts of the Greeks\n with the subsequent disasters of the Persians. In Egypt these outrages\n had an iconoclastic character. In Athens they were a retaliation for\n the destruction of the temple at Sardis (Herod. v. 102).\n\nFootnote 62:\n\n The reference to the prominent part taken by the Peloponnesian forces\n in the battle of Plat\u00e6a is probably due to the political sympathies of\n the dramatist.\n\nFootnote 63:\n\n The speech of Atossa is rejected by Paley, on internal grounds, as\n spurious.\n\nFootnote 64:\n\n Apparently an allusion to the oracle given to Cr\u0153sos, that he, if he\n crossed the Halys, should destroy a great kingdom.\n\nFootnote 65:\n\n The name originally given to the Echinades, a group of islands at the\n mouth of the Achelo\u00f6s, was applied generically to all islands lying\n near the mouth of all great rivers, and here, probably, includes\n Imbros, Thasos, and Samothrak\u00e8.\n\nFootnote 66:\n\n The geography is somewhat obscure, but the words seem to refer to the\n portion of the islands that are named as opposite (in a southerly\n direction) to the promontory of the Troad.\n\nFootnote 67:\n\n Salamis in Kypros had been colonised by Teukros, the son of Aias, and\n had received its name in remembrance of the island in the Saronic\n Gulf.\n\nFootnote 68:\n\n The Mariandynoi, a Paphlagonian tribe, conspicuous for their orgiastic\n worship of Adonis, had become proverbial for the wildness of their\n plaintive dirges.\n\nFootnote 69:\n\n The name seems to have been an official title for some\n Inspector-General of the Army. Comp. Aristoph. _Acharn._ v. 92.\n\nFootnote 70:\n\n As in the account which Herodotos gives (vii. 60) of the way in which\n the army of Xerxes was numbered, _sc._, by enclosing 10,000 men in a\n given space, and then filling it again and again till the whole army\n had passed through.\n\nFootnote 71:\n\n Another reading gives\u2014\n\n \u201cThey are buried, they are buried.\u201d\n\nFootnote 72:\n\n Perhaps referring to the waggon-chariots in which the rider reclines\n at ease, either protected by a canopy, or, as in the Assyrian\n sculptures and perhaps in the East generally, overshadowed by a large\n umbrella which an eunuch holds over him.\n\n\n\n\n THE SEVEN WHO FOUGHT AGAINST THEBES\n\n\n DRAMATIS PERSON\u00c6\n\n ETEOCLES\n _Scout_\n _Herald_\n ISMENE\n ANTIGONE\n _Chorus of Theban Maidens_\n\n\nARGUMENT.\u2014_When \u0152dipus king of Thebes discovered that he had unknowingly\nbeen the murderer of his father, and had lived in incest with his\nmother, he blinded himself. And his two sons, Eteocles and Polyneikes,\nwishing to banish the remembrance of these horrors from the eyes of men,\nat first kept him in confinement. And he, being wroth with them, prayed\nthat they might divide their inheritance with the sword. And they, in\nfear lest the prayer should be accomplished, agreed to reign in turn,\neach for a year, and Eteocles, as the elder of the two, took the first\nturn. But when at the end of the year Polyneikes came to ask for the\nkingdom, Eteocles refused to give way, and sent him away empty. So\nPolyneikes went to Argos and married the daughter of Adrastos the king\nof that country, and gathered together a great army under six great\ncaptains, himself going as the seventh, and led it against Thebes. And\nso they compassed it about, and at each of the seven gates of the city\nwas stationed one of the divisions of the army._\n\n_Note._\u2014_The Seven against Thebes_ appears to have been produced B.C.\n472, the year after _The Persians_.\n\n\n\n\n THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES\n\n\n SCENE.\u2014THEBES _in front of the Acropolis_\n\n _Enter_ ETEOCLES, _and crowd of_ Theban Citizens.\n\n _Eteoc._ Ye citizens of Cadmos, it behoves\n That one who standeth at the stern of State\n Guiding the helm, with eyes unclosed in sleep,\n Should speak the things that meet occasion's need.\n For should we prosper, God gets all the praise:\n But if (which God forbid!) disaster falls,\n Eteocles, much blame on one head falling,\n Would find his name the by-word of the State,[73]\n Sung in the slanderous ballads of the town;\n Yes, and with groanings, which may Zeus the Averter,\n True to his name, from us Cadmeians turn!\n But now 'tis meet for all, both him who fails 10\n Of full-grown age, and him advanced in years,\n Yet boasting still a stalwart strength of frame,\n And each in life's full prime, as it is fit,\n The State to succour and the altars here\n Of these our country's Gods, that never more\n Their votive honours cease,\u2014to help our sons,\n And Earth, our dearest mother and kind nurse;\n For she, when young ye crept her kindly plain,\n Bearing the whole charge of your nourishment,\n Reared you as denizens that bear the shield,\n That ye should trusty prove in this her need. 20\n And now thus far God turns the scale for us;\n For unto us, beleaguered these long days,\n War doth in most things with God's help speed well,\n But now, as saith the seer, the augur skilled,[74]\n Watching with ear and mind, apart from fire,\n The birds oracular with mind unerring,\n He, lord and master of these prophet-arts,\n Says that the great attack of the Ach\u00e6ans\n This very night is talked of, and their plots\n Devised against the town. But ye, haste all\n Unto the walls and gateways of the forts; 30\n Rush ye full-armed, and fill the outer space,\n And stand upon the platforms of the towers,\n And at the entrance of the gates abiding\n Be of good cheer, nor fear ye overmuch\n The host of aliens. Well will God work all.\n And I have sent my scouts and watchers forth,\n And trust their errand is no fruitless one.\n I shall not, hearing them, be caught with guile.\n\n [_Exeunt_ Citizens.\n\n _Enter one of the_ Scouts.\n\n _Mess._ King of Cadmeians, great Eteocles,\n I from the army come with tidings clear, 40\n And am myself eye-witness of its acts;\n For seven brave warriors, leading arm\u00e8d bands,\n Cutting a bull's throat o'er a black-rimmed shield,\n And dipping in the bull's blood with their hands,\n Swore before Ares, Enyo,[75] murderous Fear,\n That they would bring destruction on our town,\n And trample under foot the tower of Cadmos,\n Or dying, with their own blood stain our soil;\n And they memorials for their sires at home\n Placed with their hands upon Adrastos' car,[76] 50\n Weeping, but no wail uttering with their lips,\n For courage iron-hearted breathed out fire\n In manliness unconquered, as when lions\n Flash battle from their eyeballs. And report\n Of these things does not linger on the way.\n I left them casting lots, that each might take,\n As the lot fell, his station at the gate.\n Wherefore do thou our city's chosen ones\n Array with speed at entrance of the gates;\n For near already is the Argive host,\n Marching through clouds of dust, and whitening foam 60\n Spots all the plain with drops from horses' mouths.\n And thou, as prudent helmsman of the ship,\n Guard thou our fortress ere the blasts of Ares\n Swoop on it wildly; for there comes the roar\n Of the land-wave of armies. And do thou\n Seize for these things the swiftest tide and time;\n And I, in all that comes, will keep my eye\n As faithful sentry; so through speech full clear,\n Thou, knowing all things yonder, shalt be safe.\n\n [_Exit._\n\n _Eteoc._ O Zeus and Earth, and all ye guardian Gods!\n Thou Curse and strong Erinnys of my sire! 70\n Destroy ye not my city root and branch,\n With sore destruction smitten, one whose voice\n Is that of Hellas, nor our hearths and homes;[77]\n Grant that they never hold in yoke of bondage\n Our country free, and town of Cadmos named;\n But be ye our defence. I deem I speak\n Of what concerns us both; for still 'tis true,\n A prosperous city honours well the Gods. [_Exit._\n\n _Enter Chorus of_ Theban Maidens _in solemn procession\n as suppliants_\n\n _Chor._ I in wild terror utter cries of woe;\n An army leaves its camp and is let loose:\n Hither the vanguard of the horsemen flows, 80\n And the thick cloud of dust,\n That suddenly is seen,\n Dumb herald, yet full clear,\n Constrains me to believe;\n And smitten with the horses' hoofs, the plain\n Of this my country rings with noise of war;\n It floats and echoes round,\n Like voice of mountain torrent dashing down\n Resistless in its might.\n Ah Gods! Ah Goddesses!\n Ward off the coming woe.\n With battle-shout that rises o'er the walls,\n The host whose shields are white[78] 90\n Marches in full array against our city.\n Who then, of all the Gods\n Or Goddesses, will come to help and save?\n Say, shall I fall before the shrines of Gods?\n O blessed Ones firm fixed!\n 'Tis time to clasp your sacred images.\n Why linger we in wailing overmuch?\n Hear ye, or hear ye not, the din of shields?\n When, if not now, shall we\n Engage in prayer with peplos and with boughs?[79]\n I hear a mighty sound; it is the din 100\n Not of a single spear.\n O Ares! ancient guardian of our land!\n What wilt thou do? Wilt thou betray thy land?\n O God of golden casque,\n Look on our city, yea, with favour look,\n The city thou did'st love.\n And ye, ye Gods who o'er the city rule,\n Come all of you, come all.\n Behold the band of maidens suppliant,\n In fear of bondage foul;\n For now around the town\n The wave of warriors bearing slop\u00e8d crests,\n With blasts of Ares rushing, hoarsely sounds: 110\n But thou, O Zeus! true father of us all,\n Ward off, ward off our capture by the foe.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n For Argives now surround the town of Cadmos,\n And dread of Ares' weapons falls on us;\n And, bound to horses' mouths,\n The bits and curbs ring music as of death;\n And seven chief rulers of the mighty host,\n With warriors' arms, at each of seven tall gates,\n Spear-armed and harnessed all,\n Stand, having cast their lots.\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n\n MESODE\n\n And thou, O Zeus-born power in war delighting, 120\n O Pallas! be our city's saviour now;\n And Thou who curb'st the steed,\n Great King of Ocean's waves,\n Poseidon, with thy trident fish-spear armed,[80]\n Give respite from our troubles, respite give!\n And Thou, O Ares, guard the town that takes\n Its name from Cadmos old,[81]\n Watch o'er it visibly.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n And thou, O Kypris, of our race the mother,\n Ward off these ills, for we are thine by blood:\n To thee in many a prayer, 130\n With voice that calls upon the Gods we cry,\n And unto thee draw near as suppliants:\n And Thou, Lykeian king, Lykeian be,[82]\n Foe of our hated foes,\n For this our wailing cry;\n And Thou, O child of Leto, Artemis,\n Make ready now thy bow.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Ah! ah! I hear a din of chariot wheels\n Around the city walls;\n O Hera great and dread!\n The heavy axles of the chariots groan, 140\n O Artemis beloved!\n And the air maddens with the clash of spears;\n What must our city bear?\n What now shall come on us?\n When will God give the end?\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n Ah! ah! a voice of stones is falling fast\n On battlements attacked;[83]\n O Lord, Apollo loved,\n A din of bronze-bound shields is in the gates;\n And oh! that Zeus may give 150\n A faultless issue of this war we wage!\n And Thou, O blessed queen,\n As Guardian Onca known,[84]\n Save thy seven-gated seat.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And ye, all-working Gods,\n Of either sex divine,\n Protectors of our towers,\n Give not our city, captured by the spear,\n To host of alien speech.[85]\n Hear ye our maidens; hear, 160\n As is most meet, our prayers with outstretched hands.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n O all ye loving Powers,\n Compass our State to save;\n Show how that State ye love;\n Think on our public votive offerings,\n And as ye think, oh, help:\n Be mindful ye, I pray,\n Of all our city's rites of sacrifice.\n\n _Re-enter_ ETEOCLES\n\n _Eteoc._ (_to the Chorus_) I ask you, O ye brood intolerable,\n Is this course best and safest for our city? 170\n Will it give heart to our beleaguered host,\n That ye before the forms of guardian Gods\n Should wail and howl, ye loath\u00e8d of the wise;[86]\n Ne'er be it mine, in ill estate or good,\n To dwell together with the race of women;\n For when they rule, their daring bars approach,\n And when they fear, alike to house and State\n Comes greater ill; and now with these your rushings\n Hither and thither, ye have troubled sore\n Our subjects with a coward want of heart;\n And do your best for those our foes without; 180\n And we are harassed by ourselves within.\n This comes to one who dwells with womankind.\n And if there be that will not own my sway,\n Or man or woman in their prime, or those\n Who can be classed with neither, they shall take\n Their trial for their life, nor shall they 'scape\n The fate of stoning. Things outdoors are still\n The man's to look to: let not woman counsel.\n Stay thou within, and do no mischief more.\n Hear'st thou, or no? or speak I to the deaf?\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Dear son of \u0152dipus, 190\n I shuddered as I heard the din, the din\n Of many a chariot's noise,\n When on the axles creaked the whirling wheels,\n *And when I heard the sound\n *Of fire-wrought curbs within the horses' mouths.\n\n _Eteoc._ What then? Did ever yet the sailor flee\n From stern to stem, and find deliverance so,\n While his ship laboured in the ocean's wave?[87]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Nay, to the ancient forms\n Of mighty Powers I rushed, as trusting Gods;\n And when behind the gates\n Was heard the crash of fierce and pelting storm, 200\n Then was it, in my fear,\n I prayed the Blessed Ones to guard our city.\n\n _Eteoc._ Pray that our towns hold out 'gainst spear of foes.[88]\n\n _Chor._ Do not the Gods grant these things?\n\n _Eteoc._ Nay the Gods,\n So say they, leave the captured city's walls.[89]\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Ah! never in my life\n May all this goodly company of Gods\n Depart; nor may I see\n This city scene of rushings to and fro, 210\n *And hostile army burning it with fire!\n\n _Eteoc._ Nay, call not on the Gods with counsel base;\n Obedience is the mother of success,\n Child strong to save. 'Tis thus the saying runs.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ True is it; but the Gods\n Have yet a mightier power, and oftentimes,\n In pressure of sore ill,\n It raises one perplexed from direst woe,\n When dark clouds gather thickly o'er his eyes.\n\n _Eteoc._ 'Tis work of men to offer sacrifice\n And victims to the Gods, when foes press hard; 220\n Thine to be dumb and keep within the house.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ 'Tis through the Gods we live\n In city unsubdued, and that our towers\n Ward off the multitude of jealous foes.\n What Power will grudge us this?\n\n _Eteoc._ I grudge not your devotion to the Gods;\n But lest you make my citizens faint-hearted\n Be tranquil, nor to fear's excess give way.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ Hearing but now a din\n Strange, wildly mingled, I with shrinking fear\n Here to our city's high Acropolis,\n Time-hallowed spot, have come. 230\n\n _Eteoc._ Nay, if ye hear of wounded men or dying,\n Bear them not swiftly off with wailing loud;\n *For blood of men is Ares' chosen food.[90]\n\n _Chor._ Hark! now I hear the panting of the steeds.\n\n _Eteoc._ Clear though thou hear, yet hear not overmuch.\n\n _Chor._ Lo! from its depths the fortress groans, beleaguered.\n\n _Eteoc._ It is enough that I provide for this.\n\n _Chor._ I fear: the din increases at the gates.\n\n _Eteoc._ Be still, say nought of these things in the city.\n\n _Chor._ O holy Band![91] desert ye not our towers. 240\n\n _Eteoc._ A curse fall on thee! wilt thou not be still?\n\n _Chor._ Gods of my city, from the slave's lot save me!\n\n _Eteoc._ 'Tis thou enslav'st thyself and all thy city.\n\n _Chor._ Oh, turn thy darts, great Zeus, against our foes!\n\n _Eteoc._ Oh, Zeus, what race of women thou hast given us!\n\n _Chor._ A sorry race, like men whose city falls.\n\n _Eteoc._ What? Cling to these statues, yet speak words of ill?\n\n _Chor._ Fear hurries on my tongue in want of courage.\n\n _Eteoc._ Could'st thou but grant one small boon at my prayer!250\n\n _Chor._ Speak it out quickly, and I soon shall know.\n\n _Eteoc._ Be still, poor fool, and frighten not thy friends.\n\n _Chor._ Still am I, and with others bear our fate.\n\n _Eteoc._ These words of thine I much prefer to those:\n And further, though no longer at the shrines,\n Pray thou for victory, that the Gods fight with us.\n And when my prayers thou hearest, then do thou\n Raise a loud, welcome, holy p\u00e6an-shout,\n The Hellenes' wonted cry at sacrifice;\n So cheer thy friends, and check their fear of foes;\n And I unto our country's guardian Gods, 260\n Who hold the plain or watch the agora,\n The springs of Dirk\u00e8, and Ismenos' stream;\u2014\n If things go well, and this our city's saved,\u2014\n I vow that staining with the blood of sheep\n The altar-hearths of Gods, or slaying bulls,\n We'll fix our trophies, and our foemen's robes\n On the spear's point on consecrated walls,\n Before the shrines I'll hang.[92] Pray thou this prayer,\n Not weakly wailing, nor with vain wild sobs,\n For no whit more thou'lt 'scape thy destined lot: 270\n And I six warriors, with myself as seventh,\n Against our foes in full state like their own,\n Will station at the seven gates' entrances,\n Ere hurrying heralds and swift-rushing words\n Come and inflame them in the stress of need. [_Exit_\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ My heart is full of care and knows not sleep,\n By panic fear o'ercome;\n And troubles throng my soul,\n And set a-glow my dread\n Of the great host encamped around our walls,\n As when a trembling dove\n Fears, for her callow brood, 280\n The snakes that come, ill mates for her soft nest;\n For some upon our towers\n March in full strength of mingled multitude;\n And what will me befall?\n And others on our men on either hand\n Hurl rugged blocks of stone.\n In every way, ye Zeus-born Gods, defend 290\n The city and the host\n That Cadmos claim as sire.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n What better land will ye receive for this,\n If ye to foes resign\n This rich and fertile clime,\n And that Dirk\u00e6an stream,\n Goodliest of founts by great Poseidon sent,\n Who circleth earth, or those\n Who Tethys parent call?[93] 300\n And therefore, O ye Gods that guard our city,\n Sending on those without\n Our towers a woe that robs men of their life,\n And makes them lose their shield,\n Gain glory for these countrymen of mine;\n And take your standing-ground,\n As saviours of the city, firm and true,\n In answer to our cry\n Of wailing and of prayer.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n For sad it were to hurl to Hades dark\n A city of old fame, 310\n The spoil and prey of war,\n With foulest shame in dust and ashes laid,\n By an Ach\u00e6an foe at God's decree;\n And that our women, old and young alike,\n Be dragged away, ah me!\n Like horses, by their hair\n Their robes torn off from them.\n And lo, the city wails, made desolate,\n While with confus\u00e8d cry 320\n The wretched prisoners meet doom worse than death.\n Ah, at this grievous fate\n I shudder ere it comes.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n And piteous 'tis for those whose youth is fresh\n Before the rites that cull\n Their fair and first-ripe fruit,\n To take a hateful journey from their homes.\n Nay, but I say the dead far better fare\n Than these, for when a city is subdued\n It bears full many an ill.\n This man takes prisoner that, 330\n Or slays, or burns with fire;\n And all the city is defiled with smoke,\n And Ares fans the flame\n In wildest rage, and laying many low,\n Tramples with foot unclean\n On all men sacred hold.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And hollow din is heard throughout the town,\n Hemmed in by net of towers;\n And man by man is slaughtered with the spear,\n And cries of bleeding babes,\n Of children at the breast, 340\n Are heard in piteous wail,\n And rapine, sister of the plunderer's rush,\n Spoiler with spoiler meets,\n And empty-handed empty-handed calls,\n Wishing for share of gain,\n Both eager for a portion no whit less,\n For more than equal lot\n With what they deem the others' hands have found.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And all earth's fruits cast wildly on the ground, 350\n Meeting the cheerless eye\n Of frugal housewives, give them pain of heart;\n And many a gift of earth\n In formless heaps is whirled\n In waves of nothingness;\n And the young maidens know a sorrow new;\n For now the foe prevails,\n And gains rich prize of wretched captive's bed; 360\n And now their only hope\n Is that the night of death will come at last,\n Their truest, best ally,\n To rescue them from sorrow fraught with tears.\n\n _Enter_ ETEOCLES, _followed by his_ Chief Captains,\n _and by the_ Scout\n\n _Semi-Chor. A._ The army scout, so deem I, brings to us,\n Dear friends, some tidings new, with quickest speed\n Plying the nimble axles of his feet.\n\n _Semi-Chor. B._ Yea, the king's self, the son of \u0152dipus,\n Is nigh to hear the scout's exact report;\n And haste denies him too an even step.\n\n _Mess._ I knowing well, will our foes' state report, 370\n How each his lot hath stationed at the gates.\n At those of Pr\u0153tos, Tydeus thunders loud,\n And him the prophet suffers not to cross\n Ismenos' fords, the victims boding ill.[94]\n And Tydeus, raging eager for the fight,\n Shouts like a serpent in its noontide scream,\n And on the prophet, \u0152cleus' son, heaps shame,\n That he, in coward fear, doth crouch and fawn\n Before the doom and peril of the fight.\n And with such speech he shakes his triple crest,\n O'ershadowing all his helm, and 'neath his shield 380\n Bells wrought in bronze ring out their chimes of fear;\n And on his shield he bears this proud device,\u2014\n A firmament enchased, all bright with stars;[95]\n And in the midst the full moon's glittering orb,\n Sovran of stars and eye of Night, shines forth.\n And thus exulting in o'er boastful arms,\n By the stream's bank he shouts in lust of war,\n [E'en as a war-horse panting in his strength\n Against the curb that galls him, who at sound\n Of trumpet's clang chafes hotly.] Whom wilt thou\n Set against him? Who is there strong enough\n When the bolts yield, to guard the Pr\u0153tan gates? 390\n\n _Eteoc._ No fear have I of any man's array;\n Devices have no power to pierce or wound,\n And crest and bells bite not without a spear;\n And for this picture of the heavens at night,\n Of which thou tellest, glittering on his shield,\n *Perchance his madness may a prophet prove;\n For if night fall upon his dying eyes,\n Then for the man who bears that boastful sign\n It may right well be all too truly named, 400\n And his own pride shall prophet be of ill.\n And against Tydeus, to defend the gates,\n I'll set this valiant son of Astacos;\n Noble is he, and honouring well the throne\n Of Reverence, and hating vaunting speech,\n Slow to all baseness, unattuned to ill:\n And of the dragon-race that Ares spared[96]\n He as a scion grows, a native true,\n E'en Melanippos; Ares soon will test\n His valour in the hazard of the die:\n And kindred Justice sends him forth to war,\n For her that bore him foeman's spear to check. 410\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ May the Gods grant my champion good success!\n For justly he goes forth\n For this our State to fight;\n But yet I quake with fear\n To see the deaths of those who die for friends.\n\n _Mess._ Yea, may the Gods give good success to him!\n The Electran gates have fallen to Capaneus,\n A second giant, taller far than he\n Just named, with boast above a mortal's bounds;\n And dread his threats against our towers (O Fortune, 420\n Turn them aside!)\u2014for whether God doth will,\n Or willeth not, he says that he will sack[97]\n The city, nor shall e'en the wrath of Zeus,\n On the plain swooping, turn him from his will;\n And the dread lightnings and hot thunderbolts\n He likens to the heat of noon-day sun.\n And his device, the naked form of one\n Who bears a torch; and bright the blaze shines forth\n And in gold characters he speaks the words,\n \u201cTHE CITY I WILL BURN.\u201d Against this man\n Send forth ... but who will meet him in the fight? 430\n Who, without fear, await this warrior proud?\n\n _Eteoc._ Herein, too, profit upon profit comes;\n And 'gainst the vain and boastful thoughts of men,\n Their tongue itself is found accuser true.\n Threatening, equipped for work is Capaneus,\n Scorning the Gods: and giving speech full play,\n And in wild joy, though mortal, vents at Zeus,\n High in the heavens, loud-spoken foaming words.\n And well I trust on him shall rightly come\n Fire-bearing thunder, nothing likened then\n To heat of noon-day sun. And so 'gainst him, 440\n Though very bold of speech, a man is set\n Of fiery temper, Polyphontes strong,\n A trusty bulwark, by the loving grace\n Of guardian Artemis[98] and other Gods.\n Describe another, placed at other gates.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ A curse on him who 'gainst our city boasts!\n May thunder smite him down 450\n Before he force his way\n Into my home, and drive\n Me from my maiden bower with haughty spear?\n\n _Mess._ And now I'll tell of him who by the gates\n Stands next; for to Eteocles, as third,\n To march his cohort to Ne\u00efstian gates,\n Leaped the third lot from upturned brazen helm:\n And he his mares, in head-gear snorting, whirls,\n Full eager at the gates to fall and die;\n Their whistling nozzles of barbaric mode,\n Are filled with loud blast of the panting nostrils.[99]\n In no poor fashion is his shield devised; 460\n A full-armed warrior climbs a ladder's rungs,\n And mounts his foeman's towers as bent to sack;\n And he too cries, in words of written speech,\n That \u201cNOT E'EN ARES FROM THE TOWERS SHALL DRIVE HIM.\u201d\n Send thou against him some defender true,\n To ward the yoke of bondage from our State.\n\n _Eteoc._ Such would I send now; by good luck indeed\n He has been sent, his vaunting in his deeds,\n Megareus, Creon's son, who claims descent\n From those as Sparti known, and not by noise\n Of neighings loud of warlike steeds dismayed, 470\n Will he the gates abandon, but in death\n Will pay our land his nurture's debt in full,[100]\n Or taking two men, and a town to boot,\n (That on the shield,) will deck his father's house\n With those his trophies. Of another tell\n The bragging tale, nor grudge thy words to me.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Him I wish good success,\n O guardian of my home, and for his foes\n All ill success I pray;\n And since against our land their haughty words\n With maddened soul they speak,\n May Zeus, the sovran judge,\n With fiery, hot displeasure look on them! 480\n\n _Mess._ Another stands as fourth at gates hard by,\n Onca-Athen\u00e0's, with a shout of war,\n Hippomedon's great form and massive limbs;\n And as he whirled his orb, his vast shield's disk,\n I shuddered; yea, no idle words I speak.\n No cheap and common draughtsman sure was he\n Who wrought this cunning ensign on his shield:\n Typhon emitting from his lips hot blast\n Of darkling smoke, the flickering twin of fire:\n And round the belly of the hollow shield\n A rim was made with wreaths of twisted snakes. 490\n And he too shouts his war-cry, and in frenzy,\n As man possessed by Ares, hastes to battle,\n Like Thyiad, darting terror from his eyes.[101]\n 'Gainst such a hero's might we well may guard;\n Already at the gates men brag of rout.\n\n _Eteoc._ First, the great Onca-Pallas, dwelling nigh\n Our city's gates, and hating man's bold pride,\n Shall ward him from her nestlings like a snake\n Of venom dread; and next Hyperbios,\n The stalwart son of \u0152nops, has been chosen, 500\n A hero 'gainst this hero, willing found\n To try his destiny at Fortune's hest.\n No fault has he in form, or heart, or arms;\n And Hermes with good reason pairs them off;\n For man with man will fight as enemy,\n And on their shields they'll bring opposing Gods;\n For this man beareth Typhon, breathing fire,\n And on Hyperbios' shield sits father Zeus,\n Full firm, with burning thunderbolt in hand;\n And never yet has man seen Zeus, I trow,\n O'ercome. Such then the favour of the Gods, 510\n We with the winners, they with losers are:[102]\n Good reason then the rivals so should fare,\n If Zeus than Typhon stronger be in fight,\n And to Hyperbios Zeus will saviour prove,\n As that device upon his shield presents him.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Now do I trust that he\n Who bears upon his shield the hated form\n Of Power whom Earth doth shroud,\n Antagonist to Zeus, unloved by men\n And by the ageless Gods,\n Before those gates of ours\n To his own hurt may dash his haughty head. 520\n\n _Mess._ So may it be! And now the fifth I tell,\n Who the fifth gates, the Northern, occupies,\n Hard by Amphion's tomb, the son of Zeus;\n And by his spear he swears, (which he is bold\n To honour more than God or his own eyes,)\n That he will sack the fort of the Cadmeians\n With that spear's might. So speaks the offspring fair\n Of mother mountain-bred, a stripling hero;\n And the soft down is creeping o'er his cheeks, 530\n Youth's growth, and hair that floweth full and thick;\n And he with soul, not maiden's like his name,[103]\n But stern, with flashing eye, is standing there.\n Nor stands he at the gate without a vaunt;\n For on his brass-wrought buckler, strong defence,\n Full-orbed, his body guarding, he the shame\n Of this our city bears, the ravenous Sphinx,\n With rivets fixed, all burnished and embossed;[104]\n And under her she holdeth a Cadmeian,\n That so on him most arrows might be shot.\n No chance that he will fight a peddling fight, 540\n Nor shame the long, long journey he hath come,\n Parthenop\u00e6os, in Arcadia born:\n This man did Argos welcome as a guest,\n And now he pays her for her goodly rearing,\n And threatens these our towers with ... God avert it!\n\n _Eteoc._ Should the Gods give them what they plan 'gainst us,\n Then they, with those their godless boastings high,\n Would perish shamefully and utterly.\n And for this man of Arcady thou tell'st of,\n We have a man who boasts not, but his hand\n Sees the right thing to do;\u2014Act\u00f4r, of him 550\n I named but now the brother,\u2014who no tongue\n Divorced from deeds will ever let within\n Our gates, to spread and multiply our ills,\n Nor him who bears upon his foeman's shield\n The image of the hateful venomed beast;\n But she without shall blame him as he tries\n To take her in, when she beneath our walls\n Gets sorely bruised and battered.[105] And herein,\n If the Gods will, I prophet true shall prove.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ Thy words thrill through my breast;\n My hair stands all on end,\n To hear the boastings great\n Of those who speak great things 560\n Unholy. May the Gods\n Destroy them in our land!\n\n _Mess._ A sixth I tell of, one of noblest mood,\n Amphiaraos, seer and warrior famed;\n He, stationed at the Homol\u00f4ian gates,\n Reproves the mighty Tydeus with sharp words\n As 'murderer,' and 'troubler of the State,'[106]\n 'To Argos teacher of all direst ills,\n Erinnys' sumpnour,'[107] 'murder's minister,' 570\n Whose counsels led Adrastos to these ills.\n *And at thy brother Polyneikes glancing\n With eyes uplifted for his father's fate,\n And ending, twice he syllabled his name,[108]\n And called him, and thus speaketh with his lips:\u2014\n \u201cA goodly deed, and pleasant to the Gods,\n Noble for after age to hear and tell,\n Thy father's city and thy country's Gods\n To waste through might of mercenary host!\n And how shall Justice stay thy mother's tears?[109] 580\n And how, when conquered, shall thy fatherland,\n Laid waste, become a true ally to thee?\n As for myself, I shall that land make rich,[110]\n A prophet buried in a foeman's soil:\n To arms! I look for no inglorious death.\u201d\n So spake the prophet, bearing full-orbed shield\n Wrought all of bronze, no ensign on that orb.\n He wishes to be just, and not to seem,[111]\n Reaping full harvest from his soul's deep furrows,\n Whence ever new and noble counsels spring. 590\n I bid thee send defenders wise and brave\n Against him. Dread is he who fears the Gods.\n\n _Eteoc._ Fie on the chance that brings the righteous man\n Close-mated with the ungodly! In all deeds\n Nought is there worse than evil fellowship,\n A crop men should not reap. Death still is found\n The harvest of the field of frenzied pride;\n For either hath the godly man embarked\n With sailors hot in insolence and guile,[112]\n And perished with the race the Gods did loathe; 600\n Or just himself, with citizens who wrong\n The stranger and are heedless of the Gods,\n Falling most justly in the self-same snare,\n By God's scourge smitten, shares the common doom.\n And thus this seer I speak of, \u0152cleus' son,\n Righteous, and wise, and good, and reverent,\n A mighty prophet, mingling with the godless\n *And men full bold of speech in reason's spite,\n Who take long march to reach a far-off city,[113]\n If Zeus so will, shall be hurled down with them. 610\n And he, I trow, shall not draw nigh the gates,\n Not through faint-heart or any vice of mood,\n But well he knows this war shall bring his death,\n If any fruit is found in Loxias' words;\n And He or holds his speech or speaks in season.\n Yet against him the hero Lasthenes,\n A foe of strangers, at the gates we'll set;\n Old in his mind, his body in its prime,\n His eye swift-footed, and his hand not slow\n To grasp the spear from 'neath the shield laid bare:[114] 620\n Yet 'tis by God's gift men must win success.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ Hear, O ye Gods! our prayers,\n Our just entreaties grant,\n That so our State be blest.\n Turn ye the toils of war\n Upon the invading host.\n Outside the walls may Zeus\n With thunder smite them low!\n\n _Mess._ The seventh chief then who at the seventh gate stands,\n Thine own, own brother, I will speak of now,\n What curses on our State he pours, and prays 630\n That he the towers ascending, and proclaimed\n By herald's voice to all the territory,\n And shouting out the captor's p\u00e6an-cry,\n May so fight with thee, slay, and with thee die;\n Or driving thee alive, who did'st him wrong,\n May on thee a vengeance wreak like in kind.\n So clamours he, and bids his father's Gods,\n His country's guardians, look upon his prayers,\n [And grant them all. So Polyneikes prays.]\n And he a new and well-wrought shield doth bear,\n And twofold sign upon it riveted; 640\n For there a woman with a stately tread\n Leads one who seems a warrior wrought in gold:\n Justice she calls herself, and thus she speaks:\n \u201cI WILL BRING BACK THIS MAN, AND HE SHALL HAVE\n THE CITY AND HIS FATHER'S DWELLING-PLACE.\u201d\n Such are the signs and mottoes of those men;\n And thou, know well whom thou dost mean to send:\n So thou shalt never blame my heraldings;\n And thou thyself know how to steer the State.\n\n _Eteoc._ O frenzy-stricken, hated sore of Gods! 650\n O woe-fraught race (my race!) of \u0152dipus!\n Ah me! my father's curse is now fulfilled;\n But neither is it meet to weep or wail,\n Lest cry more grievous on the issue come.\n Of Polyneikes, name and omen true,\n We soon shall know what way his badge shall end,\n Whether his gold-wrought letters shall restore him,\n His shield's great swelling words with frenzied soul.\n An if great Justice, Zeus's virgin child,\n Ruled o'er his words and acts, this might have been; 660\n But neither when he left his mother's womb,\n Nor in his youth, nor yet in ripening age,\n Nor when his beard was gathered on his chin,\n Did Justice count him meet for fellowship;\n Nor do I think that she befriends him now\n In this great outrage on his father's land.\n Yea, justly Justice would as falsely named\n Be known, if she with one all-daring joined.\n In this I trust, and I myself will face him:\n Who else could claim a greater right than I? 670\n Brother with brother fighting, king with king,\n And foe with foe, I'll stand. Come, quickly fetch\n My greaves that guard against the spear and stones.\n\n _Chor._ Nay, dearest friend, thou son of \u0152dipus,\n Be ye not like to him with that ill name.\n It is enough Cadmeian men should fight\n Against the Argives. That blood may be cleansed;\n But death so murderous of two brothers born,\n This is pollution that will ne'er wax old.\n\n _Eteoc._ If a man must bear evil, let him still 680\n Be without shame\u2014sole profit that in death.\n [No glory comes of base and evil deeds].\n\n _Chor._ What dost thou crave, my son? Let no ill fate,\n Frenzied and hot for war,\n Carry thee headlong on;\n Check the first onset of an evil lust.\n\n _Eteoc._ Since God so hotly urges on the matter,\n Let all of Laios' race whom Ph\u0153bos hates,\n Drift with the breeze upon Cokytos' wave.\n\n _Chor._ An over-fierce and passionate desire\n Stirs thee and pricks thee on\n To work an evil deed\n Of guilt of blood thy hand should never shed. 690\n\n _Eteoc._ Nay, my dear father's curse, in full-grown hate,\n Dwells on dry eyes that cannot shed a tear,\n And speaks of gain before the after-doom.\n\n _Chor._ But be not thou urged on. The coward's name\n Shall not be thine, for thou\n Hast ordered well thy life.\n Dark-robed Erinnys enters not the house,\n When at men's hands the Gods\n Accept their sacrifice.\n\n _Eteoc._ As for the Gods, they scorned us long ago,\n And smile but on the offering of our deaths; 700\n What boots it then on death's doom still to fawn?\n\n _Chor._ Nay do it now, while yet 'tis in thy power;[115]\n Perchance may fortune shift\n With tardy change of mood,\n And come with spirit less implacable:\n At present fierce and hot\n She waxeth in her rage.\n\n _Eteoc._ Yea, fierce and hot the Curse of \u0152dipus;\n And all too true the visions of the night,\n My father's treasured store distributing.\n\n _Chor._ Yield to us women, though thou lov'st us not.\n\n _Eteoc._ Speak then what may be done, and be not long. 710\n\n _Chor._ Tread not the path that to the seventh gate leads.\n\n _Eteoc._ Thou shall not blunt my sharpened edge with words.\n\n _Chor._ And yet God loves the victory that submits.[116]\n\n _Eteoc._ That word a warrior must not tolerate.\n\n _Chor._ Dost thou then haste thy brother's blood to shed?\n\n _Eteoc._ If the Gods grant it, he shall not 'scape harm.\n\n [_Exeunt_ ETEOCLES, Scout, _and_ Captains\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ I fear her might who doth this whole house wreck,\n The Goddess unlike Gods,\n The prophetess of evil all too true,\n The Erinnys of thy father's imprecations, 720\n Lest she fulfil the curse,\n O'er-wrathful, frenzy-fraught,\n The curse of \u0152dipus,\n Laying his children low.\n This Strife doth urge them on.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n And now a stranger doth divide the lots,\n The Chalyb,[117] from the Skythians emigrant,\n The stern distributor of heaped-up wealth,\n The iron that hath assigned them just so much\n Of land as theirs, no more,\n As may suffice for them\n As grave when they shall fall,\n Without or part or lot\n In the broad-spreading plains. 730\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n And when the hands of each\n The other's blood have shed,\n And the earth's dust shall drink\n The black and clotted gore,\n Who then can purify?\n Who cleanse thee from the guilt?\n Ah me! O sorrows new,\n That mingle with the old woes of our house!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n I tell the ancient tale\n Of sin that brought swift doom; 740\n Till the third age it waits,\n Since Laios, heeding not\n Apollo's oracle,\n (Though spoken thrice to him\n In Pythia's central shrine,)\n That dying childless, he should save the State.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n But he by those he loved full rashly swayed,\n Doom for himself begat,\n His murderer \u0152dipus, 750\n Who dared to sow in field\n Unholy, whence he sprang,\n A root of blood-flecked woe.\n Madness together brought\n Bridegroom and bride accursed.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And now the sea of evil pours its flood:\n This falling, others rise,\n As with a triple crest,\n Which round the State's stern roars:\n And but a bulwark slight,\n A tower's poor breadth, defends: 760\n And lest the city fall\n With its two kings I fear.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n *And that atonement of the ancient curse\n Receives fulfilment now;[118]\n *And when they come, the evils pass not by.\n E'en so the wealth of sea-adventurers,\n When heaped up in excess,\n Leads but to cargo from the stern thrown out.[119]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n For whom of mortals did the Gods so praise,\n And fellow-worshippers, 770\n *And race of those who feed their flocks and herds[120]\n As much as then they honoured \u0152dipus,\n Who from our country's bounds\n Had driven the monster, murderess of men?\n\n\n STROPHE V\n\n And when too late he knew,\n Ah, miserable man! his wedlock dire,\n Vexed sore with that dread shame,\n With heart to madness driven,\n He wrought a twofold ill,\n And with the hand that smote his father's life 780\n *Blinded the eyes that might his sons have seen.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE V\n\n And with a mind provoked\n By nurture scant, he at his sons did hurl[121]\n His curses dire and dark,\n (Ah, bitter curses those!)\n That they with spear in hand\n Should one day share their father's wealth; and I\n Fear now lest swift Erinnys should fulfil them.\n\n _Enter_ Messenger\n\n _Mess._ Be of good cheer, ye maidens, mother-reared;\n Our city has escaped the yoke of bondage, 790\n The boasts of mighty men are fallen low,\n And this our city in calm waters floats,\n And, though by waves lashed, springs not any leak.\n Our fortress still holds out, and we did guard\n The gates with champions who redeemed their pledge.\n In the six gateways almost all goes well;\n But the seventh gate did King Apollo choose,[122]\n Seventh mighty chief, avenging Laios' want\n Of counsel on the sons of \u0152dipus.\n\n _Chor._ What new disaster happens to our city?[123] 800\n\n _Mess._ The city's saved, but both the royal brothers,...\n\n _Chor._ Who? and what of them? I'm distraught with fear.\n\n _Mess._ Be calm, and hear: the sons of \u0152dipus,...\n\n _Chor._ Oh wretched me! a prophet I of ill!\n\n _Mess._ Slain by each other, earth has drunk their blood.\n\n _Chor._ Came they to that? 'Tis dire; yet tell it me.\n\n _Mess._ Too true, by brother's hand our chiefs are slain.\n\n _Chor._ What, did the brother's hands the brother lay?\n\n _Mess._ No doubt is there that they are laid in dust.\n\n _Chor._ Thus was there then a common fate for both?\n\n _Mess._ *Yea, it lays low the whole ill-fated race.\n\n _Chor._ These things give cause for gladness and for tears, 810\n Seeing that our city prospers, and our lords,\n The generals twain, with well-wrought Skythian steel,\n Have shared between them all their store of goods,\n And now shall have their portion in a grave,\n Borne on, as spake their father's grievous curse.[124]\n\n _Mess._ [The city's saved, but of the brother-kings\n The earth has drunk the blood, each slain by each.]\n\n _Chor._ Great Zeus! and ye, O Gods!\n Guardians of this our town,\n Who save in very deed\n The towers of Cadmos old, 820\n Shall I rejoice and shout\n Over the happy chance\n That frees our State from harm;\n Or weep that ill-starred pair,\n The war-chiefs, childless and most miserable,\n Who, true to that ill name\n Of Polyneikes, died in impious mood,\n Contending overmuch?\n\n\n STROPHE\n\n Oh dark, and all too true\n That curse of \u0152dipus and all his race,[125]\n An evil chill is falling on my heart, 830\n And, like a Thyiad wild,\n Over his grave I sing a dirge of grief,\n Hearing the dead have died by evil fate,\n Each in foul bloodshed steeped;\n Ah me! Ill-omened is the spear's accord.[126]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE\n\n It hath wrought out its end,\n And hath not failed, that prayer the father poured;\n And Laios' reckless counsels work till now:\n I fear me for the State;\n The oracles have not yet lost their edge; 840\n O men of many sorrows, ye have wrought\n This deed incredible;\n Not now in word come woes most lamentable.\n\n [_As the Chorus are speaking, the bodies of_ ETEOCLES\n _and_ POLYNEIKES _are brought in solemn procession\n by_ Theban Citizens\n\n\n EPODE\n\n Yea, it is all too clear,\n The herald's tale of woe comes full in sight;\n Twofold our cares, twin evils born of pride,\n Murderous, with double doom,\n Wrought unto full completeness all these ills.\n What shall I say? What else\n Are they than woes that make this house their home?\n But oh! my friends, ply, ply with swift, strong gale,\n That even stroke of hands upon your head,[127] 850\n In funeral order, such as evermore\n O'er Acheron sends on\n *That bark of State, dark-rigged, accursed its voyage,\n Which nor Apollo visits nor the sun,[128]\n On to the shore unseen,\n The resting-place of all.\n\n [ISMENE _and_ ANTIGONE _are seen approaching in\n mourning garments, followed by a procession of\n women wailing and lamenting_\n\n For see, they come to bitter deed called forth,\n Ismene and the maid Antigone,\n To wail their brothers' fall;\n With little doubt I deem,\n That they will pour from fond, deep-bosomed breasts\n A worthy strain of grief:\n But it is meet that we,\n Before we hear their cry, 860\n Should utter the harsh hymn Erinnys loves,\n And sing to Hades dark\n The P\u00e6an of distress.\n O ye, most evil-fated in your kin,\n Of all who guard their robes with maiden's band,\n I weep and wail, and feigning know I none,\n That I should fail to speak\n My sorrow from my heart.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Semi-Chor. A._ Alas! alas!\n Men of stern mood, who would not list to friends,\n Unwearied in all ills, 870\n Seizing your father's house, O wretched ones\n With the spear's murderous point.\n\n _Semi-Chor. B._ Yea, wretched they who found a wretched doom,\n With havoc of the house.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Semi-Chor. A._ Alas! alas!\n Ye who laid low the ancient walls of home,\n On sovereignty, ill won,\n Your eyes have looked, and ye at last are brought\n To concord by the sword.\n\n _Semi-Chor. B._ Yea, of a truth, the curse of \u0152dipus 880\n Erinnys dread fulfils.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Semi-Chor. A._ Yea, smitten through the heart,\n Smitten through sides where flowed the blood of brothers.\n Ah me! ye doomed of God!\n Ah me! the curses dire\n Of deaths ye met with each at other's hands!\n\n _Semi-Chor. B._ Thou tell'st of men death-smitten through and through,\n Both in their homes and lives,\n With wrath beyond all speech, 890\n And doom of discord fell,\n That sprang from out the curse their father spake.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Semi-Chor. A._ Yea, through the city runs\n A wailing cry. The high towers wail aloud;\n Wails all the plain that loves her heroes well;\n And to their children's sons\n The wealth will go for which\n The strife of those ill-starred ones brought forth death.\n\n _Semi-Chor. B._ Quick to resent, they shared their fortune so,\n That each like portion won;\n *Nor can their friends regard\n Their umpire without blame; 900\n Nor is our voice in thanks to Ares raised.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n _Semi-Chor. A._ By the sword smitten low,\n Thus are they now;\n By the sword smitten low,\n There wait them ... Nay,\n Doth one perchance ask what?\n Shares in their old ancestral sepulchres.\n\n _Semi-Chor. B._ *The sorrow of the house is borne to them\n By my heart-rending wail.\n Mine own the cries I pour;\n Mine own the woes I weep,\n Bitter and joyless, shedding truest tears 910\n From heart that faileth, even as they fall,\n For these two kingly chiefs.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n _Semi-Chor. A._ Yes; one may say of them,\n That wretched pair,\n That they much ill have wrought\n To their own host;\n Yea, and to alien ranks\n Of many nations fallen in the fray.\n\n _Semi-Chor._ B. Ah! miserable she who bare those twain,\n 'Bove all of women born\n Who boast a mother's name! 920\n Taking her son, her own,\n As spouse, she bare these children, and they both,\n By mutual slaughter and by brothers' hands,\n Have found their end in death.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n _Semi-Chor. A._ Yes; of the same womb born, and doom\u00e8d both,\n *Not as friends part, they fell,\n In strife to madness pushed\n In this their quarrel's end.\n\n _Semi-Chor. B._ The quarrel now is hushed,\n And in the ensanguined earth their lives are blent; 930\n Full near in blood are they.\n Stern umpire of their strifes\n Has been the stranger from beyond the sea,[129]\n Fresh from the furnace, keen and sharpened steel.\n Stern, too, is Ares found,\n Distributing their goods,\n Making their father's curses all too true.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n _Semi-Chor. A._ At last they have their share, ah, wretched ones!\n Of burdens sent from God. 940\n And now beneath them lies\n A boundless wealth of\u2014\u2014earth.\n\n _Semi-Chor. B._ O ye who your own race\n Have made to burgeon out with many woes!\n Over the end at last\n The brood of Curses raise\n Their shrill, sharp cry of lamentation loud,\n The race being put to flight of utmost rout,\n And At\u00e8's trophy stands,\n Where in the gates they fell;\n And Fate, now both are conquered, rests at last. 950\n\n _Enter_ ANTIGONE _and_ ISMENE, _followed by mourning\n maidens_[130]\n\n _Ant._ Thou wast smitten, and thou smotest.\n\n _Ism._ Thou did'st slaughter, and wast slaughtered.\n\n _Ant._ Thou with spear to death did'st smite him.\n\n _Ism._ Thou with spear to death wast smitten.\n\n _Ant._ Oh, the woe of all your labours!\n\n _Ism._ Oh, the woe of all ye suffered!\n\n _Ant._ Pour the cry of lamentation.\n\n _Ism._ Pour the tears of bitter weeping.\n\n _Ant._ There in death thou liest prostrate.\n\n _Ism._ Having wrought a great destruction.\n\n\n STROPHE\n\n _Ant._ Ah! my mind is crazed with wailing. 960\n\n _Ism._ Yea, my heart within me groaneth.\n\n _Ant._ Thou for whom the city weepeth!\n\n _Ism._ Thou too, doomed to all ill-fortune!\n\n _Ant._ By a loved hand thou hast perished.\n\n _Ism._ And a loved form thou hast slaughtered.\n\n _Ant._ Double woes are ours to tell of.\n\n _Ism._ Double woes too ours to look on.\n\n _Ant._ *Twofold sorrows from near kindred.\n\n _Ism._ *Sisters we by brothers standing.\n\n _Ant._ Terrible are they to tell of. 970\n\n _Ism._ Terrible are they to look on.\n\n _Chor._ Ah me, thou Destiny,\n Giver of evil gifts, and working woe,\n And thou dread spectral form of \u0152dipus,\n And swarth Erinnys too,\n A mighty one art thou.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE\n\n _Ant._ Ah me! ah me! woes dread to look on....\n\n _Ism._ Ye showed to me, returned from exile.\n\n _Ant._ Not, when he had slain, returned he.\n\n _Ism._ Nay, he, saved from exile, perished. 980\n\n _Ant._ Yea, I trow too well, he perished.\n\n _Ism._ And his brother, too, he murdered.\n\n _Ant._ Woeful, piteous, are those brothers!\n\n _Ism._ Woeful, piteous, all they suffered!\n\n _Ant._ Woes of kindred wrath enkindling!\n\n _Ism._ Saturate with threefold horrors!\n\n _Ant._ Terrible are they to tell of.\n\n _Ism._ Terrible are they to look on.\n\n _Chor._ Ah me, thou Destiny,\n Giver of evil gifts, and stern of soul,\n And thou dread spectral form of \u0152dipus, 990\n And swarth Erinnys too,\n A mighty one art thou.\n\n\n EPODE\n\n _Ant._ Thou, then, by full trial knowest....\n\n _Ism._ Thou, too, no whit later learning....\n\n _Ant._ When thou cam'st back to this city[131]....\n\n _Ism._ Rival to our chief in warfare.\n\n _Ant._ Woe, alas! for all our troubles!\n\n _Ism._ Woe, alas! for all our evils!\n\n _Ant._ Evils fallen on our houses!\n\n _Ism._ Evils fallen on our country!\n\n _Ant._ And on me before all others....\n\n _Ism._ And to me the future waiting.... 1000\n\n _Ant._ Woe for those two brothers luckless!\n\n _Ism._ King Eteocles, our leader!\n\n _Ant._ Oh, before all others wretched!\n\n _Ism._ . . . . .\n\n _Ant._ Ah, by At\u00e8 frenzy-stricken!\n\n _Ism._ Ah, where now shall they be buried?\n\n _Ant._ There where grave is highest honour.\n\n _Ism._ Ah, the woe my father wedded!\n\n _Enter a_ Herald\n\n _Her._ 'Tis mine the judgment and decrees to publish\n Of this Cadmeian city's counsellors:\n It is decreed Eteocles to honour,\n For his good-will towards this land of ours, 1010\n With seemly burial, such as friend may claim;\n For warding off our foes he courted death;\n Pure as regards his country's holy things,\n Blameless he died where death the young beseems;\n This then I'm ordered to proclaim of him.\n But for his brother's, Polyneikes' corpse,\n To cast it out unburied, prey for dogs,\n As working havoc on Cadmeian land,\n Unless some God had hindered by the spear\n Of this our prince;[132] and he, though, dead, shall gain 1020\n The curse of all his father's Gods, whom he\n\n [_Pointing to_ POLYNEIKES\n\n With alien host dishonouring, sought to take\n Our city. Him by ravenous birds interred\n Ingloriously, they sentence to receive\n His full deserts; and none may take in hand\n To heap up there a tomb, nor honour him\n With shrill-voiced wailings; but he still must lie,\n Without the meed of burial by his friends.\n So do the high Cadmeian powers decree.\n\n _Ant._ And I those rulers of Cadmeians tell,[133] 1030\n That if no other care to bury him,\n I will inter him, facing all the risk,\n Burying my brother: nor am I ashamed\n To thwart the State in rank disloyalty;\n Strange power there is in ties of blood, that we,\n Born of woe-laden mother, sire ill-starred,\n Are bound by: therefore of thy full free-will,\n Share thou, my soul, in woes he did not will,\n Thou living, he being dead, with sister's heart.\n And this I say, no wolves with ravening maw,\n Shall tear his flesh\u2014No! no! let none think that!\n For tomb and burial I will scheme for him, 1040\n Though I be but weak woman, bringing earth\n Within my byssine raiment's fold, and so\n Myself will bury him; let no man think\n (I say't again) aught else. Take heart, my soul!\n There shall not fail the means effectual.\n\n _Her._ I bid thee not defy the State in this.\n\n _Ant._ I bid thee not proclaim vain words to me.\n\n _Her._ Stern is the people now, with victory flushed.\n\n _Ant._ Stern let them be, he shall not tombless lie.\n\n _Her._ And wilt thou honour whom the State doth loathe?\n\n _Ant._ *Yea, from the Gods he gets an honour due.[134]1050\n\n _Her._ It was not so till he this land attacked.\n\n _Ant._ He, suffering evil, evil would repay.\n\n _Her._ Not against one his arms were turned, but all.\n\n _Ant._ Strife is the last of Gods to end disputes:\n Him I will bury; talk no more of it.\n\n _Her._ Choose for thyself then, I forbid the deed.\n\n _Chor._ Alas! alas! alas!\n Ye haughty boasters, race-destroying,\n Now Fates and now Erinnyes, smiting\n The sons of \u0152dipus, ye slew them,\n With a root-and-branch destruction. 1060\n What shall I then do, what suffer?\n What shall I devise in counsel?\n How should I dare nor to weep thee,\n Nor escort thee to the burial?\n But I tremble and I shrink from\n All the terrors which they threatened,\n They who are my fellow-townsmen.\n Many mourners thou (_looking to the bier of_ ETEOCLES) shalt\n meet with;\n But he, lost one, unlamented,\n With his sister's wailing only\n Passeth. Who with this complieth?\n\n _Semi-Chor. A_. Let the city doom or not doom\n Those who weep for Polyneikes;\n We will go, and we will bury, 1070\n Maidens we in sad procession;\n For the woe to all is common,\n And our State with voice uncertain,\n Of the claims of Right and Justice;\n Hither, thither, shifts its praises.\n\n _Semi-Chor. B._ We will thus, our chief attending,\n Speak, as speaks the State, our praises:\n Of the claims of Right and Justice;[135]\n For next those the Blessed Rulers,\n And the strength of Zeus, he chiefly\n Saved the city of Cadmeians\n From the doom of fell destruction,\n From the doom of whelming utter,\n In the flood of alien warriors.\n\n [_Exeunt_ ANTIGONE _and Semi-Chorus A., following\n the corpse of_ POLYNEIKES; ISMENE\n _and Semi-Chorus B. that of_ ETEOCLES.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 73:\n\n Probably directed against the tendency of the Athenians, as shown in\n their treatment of Miltiades, and later in that of Thukydides, to\n punish their unsuccessful generals, \u201c_pour encourager les autres_.\u201d\n\nFootnote 74:\n\n Teiresias, as in Sophocles (_Antig._ v. 1005), sitting, though blind,\n and listening, as the birds flit by him, and the flames burn steadily\n or fitfully; a various reading gives \u201capart from sight.\u201d\n\nFootnote 75:\n\n Enyo, the goddess of war, and companion of Ares.\n\nFootnote 76:\n\n Amphiaraos the seer had prophesied that Adrastos alone should return\n home in safety. On his car, therefore, the other chieftains hung the\n clasps, or locks of hair, or other memorials which in the event of\n their death were to be taken to their parents.\n\nFootnote 77:\n\n The Hellenic feeling, such as the Plat\u00e6ans appealed to in the\n Peloponnesian war (Thuc. iii. 58, 59), that it was noble and right for\n Hellenes to destroy a city of the barbarians, but that they should\n spare one belonging to a people of their own stock.\n\nFootnote 78:\n\n The characteristic feature of the Argive soldiers was, that they bore\n a shield painted white (comp. Sophocles, _Antig._ v. 114). The leaders\n alone appear to have embellished this with devices and mottoes.\n\nFootnote 79:\n\n In solemn supplications, the litanies of the ancient world, especially\n in those to Pallas, the suppliants carried with them in procession the\n shawl or _peplos_ of the Goddess, and with it enwrapt her statue. To\n carry boughs of trees in the hands was one of the uniform, probably\n indispensable, accompaniments of such processions.\n\nFootnote 80:\n\n The words recall our thoughts to the original use of the trident,\n which became afterwards a symbol of Poseidon, as employed by the\n sailors of Hellas to spear or harpoon the larger fish of the\n Archipelago. Comp. _Pers._ v. 426, where the slaughter of a defeated\n army is compared to tunny-fishing.\n\nFootnote 81:\n\n Cadmos, probably \u201cthe man from the East,\u201d the Ph\u0153nikian who had\n founded Thebes, and sown the dragon's seed, and taught men a Semitic\n alphabet for the non-Semitic speech of Hellas.\n\nFootnote 82:\n\n Worthy of his name as the Wolf-destroyer, mighty to destroy his foes.\n\nFootnote 83:\n\n Possibly \u201c_from_ battlements attacked.\u201d In the primitive sieges of\n Greek warfare stones were used as missiles alike by besieged and\n besiegers.\n\nFootnote 84:\n\n The name of Onca belonged especially to the Theban worship of Pallas,\n and was said to have been of Ph\u0153nikian origin, introduced by Cadmos.\n There seems, however, to have been a town Onk\u00e6 in B\u0153otia, with which\n the name was doubtless connected.\n\nFootnote 85:\n\n \u201cAlien,\u201d on account of the difference of dialect between the speech of\n Argos and that of B\u0153otia, though both were Hellenic.\n\nFootnote 86:\n\n The vehemence with which Eteocles reproves the wild frenzied wailing\n of the Chorus may be taken as an element of the higher culture showing\n itself in Athenian life, which led Solon to restrain such lamentations\n by special laws (Plutarch, _Solon_, c. 20). Here, too, we note in\n \u00c6schylos an echo of the teaching of Epimenides.\n\nFootnote 87:\n\n As now the sailor of the Mediterranean turns to the image of his\n patron saint, so of old he ran in his distress to the figure of his\n God upon the prow of his ship (often, as in Acts xxviii. II, that of\n the _Dioscuri_), and called to it for deliverance (comp. Jonah i. 8).\n\nFootnote 88:\n\n Eteocles seems to wish for a short, plain prayer for deliverance,\n instead of the cries and supplications and vain repetitions of the\n Chorus.\n\nFootnote 89:\n\n The thought thus expressed was, that the Gods, yielding to the\n mightier law of destiny, or in their wrath at the guilt of men, left\n the city before its capture. The feeling was all but universal. Its\n two representative instances are found in Virgil, _\u00c6n._ 351\u2014\n\n \u201cExcessere omnes adytis arisque relictis\n Di quibus imperium hoc steterat;\u201d\n\n and the narrative given alike by Tacitus (_Hist._ v. 13), and Josephus\n (_Bell. Jud._ vi. 5, 3), that the cry \u201cLet us depart hence,\u201d was heard\n at midnight through the courts of the Temple, before the destruction\n of Jerusalem.\n\nFootnote 90:\n\n _Sc._ Blood must be shed in war. Ares would not be Ares without it. It\n is better to take it as it comes.\n\nFootnote 91:\n\n _Sc._, the company of Gods, Pallas, Hera and the others whom the\n Chorus had invoked.\n\nFootnote 92:\n\n Reference to this custom, which has passed from Pagan temples into\n Christian churches, is found in the _Agamemnon_, v. 562. It was\n connected, of course, with the general practice of offering as _ex\n votos_ any personal ornaments or clothing as a token of thanksgiving\n for special mercies.\n\nFootnote 93:\n\n Rivers and streams as the children of Tethys and Okeanos.\n\nFootnote 94:\n\n Here, as in v. 571, Tydeus appears as the real leader of the\n expedition, who had persuaded Adrastos and the other chiefs to join in\n it, and Amphiaraos, the prophet, the son of \u0152cleus, as having all\n along foreseen its disastrous issue. The account of the expedition in\n the _\u0152dipus at Colonos_ (1300-1330) may be compared with this.\n\nFootnote 95:\n\n The legend of the Medusa's head on the shield of Athena shows the\n practice of thus decorating shields to have been of remote date. In\n Homer it does not appear as common, and the account given of the\n shield of Achilles lays stress upon the work of the artist (Heph\u00e6stos)\n who wrought the shield in relief, not, as here, upon painted insignia.\n They were obviously common in the time of \u00c6schylos.\n\nFootnote 96:\n\n The older families of Thebes boasted that they sprang from the\n survivors of the Sparti, who, sprung from the Dragon's teeth, waged\n deadly war against each other, till all but five were slain. The later\n settlers, who were said to have come with Cadmos, stood to these as\n the \u201cgreater\u201d to the \u201clesser _gentes_\u201d at Rome.\n\nFootnote 97:\n\n So in the _Antigone_ of Sophocles (v. 134), Capaneus appears as the\n special representative of boastful, reckless impiety.\n\nFootnote 98:\n\n Artemis, as one of the special Deities to whom Thebes was consecrated.\n\nFootnote 99:\n\n Apparently an Asiatic invention, to increase the terror of an attack\n of war-chariots.\n\nFootnote 100:\n\n The phrase and thought were almost proverbial in Athens. Men, as\n citizens, were thought of as fed at a common table, bound to\n contribute their gifts to the common stock. When they offered up their\n lives in battle, they were giving, as Pericles says (Thucyd. ii. 43),\n their noblest \u201ccontribution,\u201d paying in full their subscription to the\n society of which they were members.\n\nFootnote 101:\n\n Thyiad, another name for the M\u00e6nads, the frenzied attendants on\n Dionysos.\n\nFootnote 102:\n\n _Sc._, in the legends of Typhon, not he, but Zeus, had proved the\n conqueror. The warrior, therefore, who chose Typhon for his badge was\n identifying himself with the losing, not the winning side.\n\nFootnote 103:\n\n The name, as we are told in v. 542, is Parthenop\u00e6os, the maiden-faced.\n\nFootnote 104:\n\n The Sphinx, besides its general character as an emblem of terror, had,\n of course, a special meaning as directed to the Thebans. The warrior\n who bore it threatened to renew the old days when the monster whom\n \u0152dipus had overcome had laid waste their city.\n\nFootnote 105:\n\n _Sc._, the Sphinx on his shield will not be allowed to enter the city.\n It will only serve as a mark, attracting men to attack both it and the\n warrior who bears it.\n\nFootnote 106:\n\n The quarrel between Tydeus and the seer Amphiaraos had been already\n touched upon.\n\nFootnote 107:\n\n I have used the old English word to express a term of like technical\n use in Athenian law processes. As the \u201csumpnour\u201d called witnesses or\n parties to a suit into court, so Tydeus had summoned the Erinnys to do\n her work of destruction.\n\nFootnote 108:\n\n _Sc._, so pronounced his name as to emphasise the significance of its\n two component parts, as indicating that he who bore it was a man of\n much contention.\n\nFootnote 109:\n\n The words are obscure, but seem to refer to the badge of Polyneikes,\n the figure of Justice described in v. 643 as on his shield. How shall\n that Justice, the seer asks, console Jocasta for her son's death?\n Another rendering gives,\n\n \u201cAnd how shall Justice quench a mother's life?\u201d\n\n the \u201cmother\u201d being the country against which Polyneikes wars.\n\nFootnote 110:\n\n The words had a twofold fulfilment (1) in the burial of Amphiaraos, in\n the Theban soil; and (2) in the honour which accrued to Thebes after\n his death, through the fame of the oracle at his shrine.\n\nFootnote 111:\n\n The passage cannot be passed over without noticing the old tradition\n (Plutarch, _Aristeid._ c. 3), that when the actor uttered these words,\n he and the whole audience looked to Aristeides, surnamed the Just, as\n recognising that the words were true of him as they were of no one\n else. \u201cBest,\u201d instead of \u201cjust,\u201d is, however, a very old various\n reading.\n\nFootnote 112:\n\n If the former reference to Aristeides be admitted, we can scarcely\n avoid seeing in this passage an allusion to Themistocles, as one with\n whose reckless and democratic policy it was dangerous for the more\n conservative leader to associate himself.\n\nFootnote 113:\n\n The far-off city, not of Thebes, but of Hades. In the legend of\n Thebes, the earth opened and swallowed up Amphiaraos, as in 583.\n\nFootnote 114:\n\n The short spear was usually carried under the shelter of the shield;\n when brought into action it was, of course, laid bare.\n\nFootnote 115:\n\n Perhaps \u201csince death is at nigh hand.\u201d\n\nFootnote 116:\n\n The Chorus means that if Eteocles would allow himself to be overcome\n in this contest of his wishes with their prayers the Gods would honour\n that defeat as if it were indeed a victory. He makes answer that the\n very thought of being overcome implied in the word \u201cdefeat\u201d in\n anything is one which the true warrior cannot bear.\n\nFootnote 117:\n\n The \u201cChalyb stranger\u201d is the sword, thought of as taking its name from\n the Skythian tribe of the Chalybes, between Colchis and Armenia, and\n passing through the Thrakians into Greece.\n\nFootnote 118:\n\n The two brothers, _i.e._, are set at one again, but it is not in the\n bonds of friendship, but in those of death.\n\nFootnote 119:\n\n The image meets us again in _Agam._ 980. Here the thought is, that a\n man too prosperous is like a ship too heavily freighted. He must part\n with a portion of his possession in order to save the rest. Not to\n part with them leads, when the storm rages, to an enforced abandonment\n and utter loss.\n\nFootnote 120:\n\n Another reading gives\u2014\n\n \u201cAnd race of those who crowd the Agora.\u201d\n\nFootnote 121:\n\n This seems to have been one form of the legends as to the cause of the\n curse which \u0152dipus had launched upon his sons, An alternative\n rendering is\u2014\n\n And with a mind enraged\n At thought of what they were whom he had reared,\n He at his sons did hurl\n His curses dire and dark.\n\nFootnote 122:\n\n _Sc._, when Eteocles fell, Apollo took his place at the seventh gate,\n and turned the tide of war in favour of the Thebans.\n\nFootnote 123:\n\n I follow in this dialogue the arrangement which Paley adopts from\n Hermann.\n\nFootnote 124:\n\n There seems an intentional ambiguity. They are \u201cborne on,\u201d but it is\n as the corpses of the dead are borne to the sepulchre.\n\nFootnote 125:\n\n Not here the curse uttered by \u0152dipus, but that which rested on him and\n all his kin. There is possibly an allusion to the curse which Pelops\n is said to have uttered against Laios when he stole his son\n Chrysippos. Comp. v. 837.\n\nFootnote 126:\n\n As in v. 763 we read of the brothers as made one in death, so now of\n the concord which is wrought out by conflict, the concord, _i.e._, of\n the grave.\n\nFootnote 127:\n\n The Chorus are called on to change their character, and to pass from\n the attitude of suppliants, with outstretched arms, to that of\n mourners at a funeral, beating on their breasts. But, perhaps, the\n call is addressed to the mourners who are seen approaching with Ismene\n and Antigone.\n\nFootnote 128:\n\n The thought is drawn from the _theoris_ or pilgrim-ship, which went\n with snow-white sails, and accompanied by joyful p\u00e6ans, on a solemn\n mission from Athens to Delos. In contrast with this type of joy,\n \u00c6schylos draws the picture of the boat of Charon, which passes over\n the gloomy pool accompanied by the sighs and gestures of bitter\n lamentation. So, in the old Attic legend, the ship that annually\n carried seven youths and maidens to the Minotaur of Crete was\n conspicuous for its black sails.\n\nFootnote 129:\n\n The \u201cChalyb,\u201d or iron sword, which the Hellenes had imported from the\n Skythians. Comp. vv. 70. 86.\n\nFootnote 130:\n\n The lyrical, operative character of Greek tragedies has to be borne in\n mind as we read passages like that which follows. They were not meant\n to be _read_. Uttered in a passionate recitative, accompanied by\n expressive action, they probably formed a very effective element in\n the actual representation of the tragedy. We may look on it as the\n only extant specimen of the kind of wailing which was characteristic\n of Eastern burials, and which was slowly passing away in Greece under\n the influence of a higher culture. The early fondness of \u00c6schylos for\n a _finale_ of this nature is seen also in _The Persians_, and in a\n more solemn and subdued form, in the _Eumenides_. The feeling that\n there was something barbaric in these untoward displays of grief,\n showed itself alike in the legislation of Solon, and the eloquence of\n Pericles.\n\nFootnote 131:\n\n Here, and perhaps throughout, we must think of Antigone as addressing\n and looking on the corpse of Polyneikes, Ismene on that of Eteocles.\n\nFootnote 132:\n\n Perhaps\n\n \u201cUnless some God had stood against the spear\n This chief did wield.\u201d\n\nFootnote 133:\n\n The speech of the Antigone becomes the starting-point, in the hands of\n Sophocles, of the noblest of his tragedies. The denial of burial, it\n will be remembered, was looked on as not merely an indignity and\n outrage against the feelings of the living, but as depriving the souls\n of the dead of all rest and peace. As such it was the punishment of\n parricides and traitors.\n\nFootnote 134:\n\n The words are obscure enough, the point lying, it may be, in their\n ambiguity. Antigone here, as in the tragedy of Sophocles, pleads that\n the Gods have pardoned; they still command and love the reverence for\n the dead, which she is about to show. The herald catches up her words\n and takes them in another sense, as though all the honour he had met\n with from the Gods had been defeat, and death, and shame, as the\n reward of his sacrilege. Another rendering, however, gives\u2014\n\n \u201cYes, so the Gods have done with honouring him.\u201d\n\nFootnote 135:\n\n The words are probably a protest against the changeableness of the\n Athenian _demos_, as seen especially in their treatment of Aristeides.\n\n\n\n\n PROMETHEUS BOUND\n\n\n DRAMATIS PERSON\u00c6\n\n PROMETHEUS\n HERMES\n OKEANOS\n STRENGTH\n HEPH\u00c6STOS\n FORCE\n _Chorus of Ocean Nymphs_\n\n\n_ARGUMENT.\u2014In the old time, when Cronos was sovereign of the Gods, Zeus,\nwhom he had begotten, rose up against him, and the Gods were divided in\ntheir counsels, some, the Titans chiefly, siding with the father, and\nsome with the son. And Prometheus, the son of Earth or Themis, though\none of the Titans, supported Zeus, as did also Okeanos, and by his\ncounsels Zeus obtained the victory, and Cronos was chained in Tartaros,\nand the Titans buried under mountains, or kept in bonds in Hades. And\nthen Prometheus, seeing the miseries of the race of men, of whom Zeus\ntook little heed, stole the fire which till then had belonged to none\nbut Heph\u00e6stos and was used only for the Gods, and gave it to mankind,\nand taught them many arts whereby their wretchedness was lessened. But\nZeus being wroth with Prometheus for this deed, sent Heph\u00e6stos, with his\ntwo helpers, Strength and Force, to fetter him to a rock on Caucasos._\n\n_And in yet another story was the cruelty of the Gods made known. For\nZeus loved Io, the daughter of Inachos, king of Argos, and she was\nhaunted by visions of the night, telling her of his passion, and she\ntold her father thereof. And Inachos, sending to the God at Delphi, was\ntold to drive Io forth from her home. And Zeus gave her the horns of a\ncow, and Hera, who hated her because she was dear to Zeus, sent with her\na gadfly that stung her, and gave her no rest, and drove her over many\nlands._\n\n_Note._\u2014The play is believed to have been the second of a Trilogy, of\nwhich the first was _Prometheus the Fire-giver_, and the third\n_Prometheus Unbound_.\n\n\n\n\n PROMETHEUS BOUND\n\n\n SCENE.\u2014SKYTHIA, _on the heights of Caucasos. The Euxine\n seen in the distance_\n\n _Enter_ HEPH\u00c6STOS, STRENGTH, _and_ FORCE, _leading_\n PROMETHEUS _in chains_[136]\n\n _Strength._ Lo! to a plain, earth's boundary remote,\n We now are come,\u2014the tract as Skythian known,\n A desert inaccessible: and now,\n Heph\u00e6stos, it is thine to do the hests\n The Father gave thee, to these lofty crags\n To bind this crafty trickster fast in chains\n Of adamantine bonds that none can break;\n For he thy choice flower stealing, the bright glory\n Of fire that all arts spring from, hath bestowed it\n On mortal men. And so for fault like this\n He now must pay the Gods due penalty,\n That he may learn to bear the sovereign rule 10\n Of Zeus, and cease from his philanthropy.\n\n _Heph._ O Strength, and thou, O Force, the hest of Zeus,\n As far as touches you, attains its end,\n And nothing hinders. Yet my courage fails\n To bind a God of mine own kin by force\n To this bare rock where tempests wildly sweep;\n And yet I needs must muster courage for it:\n 'Tis no slight thing the Father's words to scorn.\n O thou of Themis [_to_ PROMETHEUS] wise in counsel son,\n Full deep of purpose, lo! against my will,[137]\n I fetter thee against thy will with bonds\n Of bronze that none can loose, to this lone height, 20\n Where thou shalt know nor voice nor face of man,\n But scorching in the hot blaze of the sun,\n Shalt lose thy skin's fair beauty. Thou shalt long\n For starry-mantled night to hide day's sheen,\n For sun to melt the rime of early dawn;\n And evermore the weight of present ill\n Shall wear thee down. Unborn as yet is he\n Who shall release thee: this the fate thou gain'st\n As due reward for thy philanthropy.\n For thou, a God not fearing wrath of Gods,\n In thy transgression gav'st their power to men; 30\n And therefore on this rock of little ease\n Thou still shalt keep thy watch, nor lying down,\n Nor knowing sleep, nor ever bending knee;\n And many groans and wailings profitless\n Thy lips shall utter; for the mind of Zeus\n Remains inexorable. Who holds a power\n But newly gained[138] is ever stern of mood.\n\n _Strength._ Let be! Why linger in this idle pity?\n Why dost not hate a God to Gods a foe,\n Who gave thy choicest prize to mortal men?\n\n _Heph._ Strange is the power of kin and intercourse.[139]\n\n _Strength._ I own it; yet to slight the Father's words, 40\n How may that be? Is not that fear the worse?\n\n _Heph._ Still art thou ruthless, full of savagery.\n\n _Strength._ There is no help in weeping over him:\n Spend not thy toil on things that profit not.\n\n _Heph._ O handicraft to me intolerable!\n\n _Strength._ Why loath'st thou it? Of these thy present griefs\n That craft of thine is not one whit the cause.\n\n _Heph._ And yet I would some other had that skill.\n\n _Strength._ *All things bring toil except for Gods to reign;[140]\n For none but Zeus can boast of freedom true. 50\n\n _Heph._ Too well I see the proof, and gainsay not.\n\n _Strength._ Wilt thou not speed to fix the chains on him,\n Lest He, the Father, see thee loitering here?\n\n _Heph._ Well, here the handcuffs thou may'st see prepared.\n\n _Strength._ In thine hands take him. Then with all thy might\n Strike with thine hammer; nail him to the rocks.\n\n _Heph._ The work goes on, I ween, and not in vain.\n\n _Strength._ Strike harder, rivet, give no whit of ease:\n A wondrous knack has he to find resource,\n Even where all might seem to baffle him.\n\n _Heph._ Lo! this his arm is fixed inextricably. 60\n\n _Strength._ Now rivet thou this other fast, that he\n May learn, though sharp, that he than Zeus is duller.\n\n _Heph._ No one but he could justly blame my work.\n\n _Strength._ Now drive the stern jaw of the adamant wedge\n Right through his chest with all the strength thou hast.\n\n _Heph._ Ah me! Prometheus, for thy woes I groan.\n\n _Strength._ Again, thou'rt loth, and for the foes of Zeus\n Thou groanest: take good heed to it lest thou\n Ere long with cause thyself commiserate.\n\n _Heph._ Thou see'st a sight unsightly to our eyes.\n\n _Strength._ I see this man obtaining his deserts: 70\n Nay, cast thy breast-chains round about his ribs.\n\n _Heph._ I must needs do it. Spare thine o'er much bidding;\n Go thou below and rivet both his legs.[141]\n\n _Strength._ Nay, I will bid thee, urge thee to thy work.\n\n _Heph._ There, it is done, and that with no long toil.\n\n _Strength._ Now with thy full power fix the galling fetters:\n Thou hast a stern o'erlooker of thy work.\n\n _Heph._ Thy tongue but utters words that match thy form.[142]\n\n _Strength._ Choose thou the melting mood; but chide not me\n For my self-will and wrath and ruthlessness. 80\n\n _Heph._ Now let us go, his limbs are bound in chains.\n\n _Strength._ Here then wax proud, and stealing what belongs\n To the Gods, to mortals give it. What can they\n Avail to rescue thee from these thy woes?\n Falsely the Gods have given thee thy name,\n Prometheus, Forethought; forethought thou dost need\n To free thyself from this rare handiwork.\n\n [_Exeunt_ HEPH\u00c6STOS, STRENGTH, _and_ FORCE,\n _leaving_ PROMETHEUS _on the rock_\n\n _Prom._[143] Thou firmament of God, and swift-winged winds,\n Ye springs of rivers, and of ocean waves\n That smile innumerous! Mother of us all, 90\n O Earth, and Sun's all-seeing eye, behold,\n I pray, what I a God from Gods endure.\n Behold in what foul case\n I for ten thousand years\n Shall struggle in my woe,\n In these unseemly chains.\n Such doom the new-made Monarch of the Blest\n Hath now devised for me.\n Woe, woe! The present and the oncoming pang\n I wail, as I search out\n The place and hour when end of all these ills\n Shall dawn on me at last. 100\n What say I? All too clearly I foresee\n The things that come, and nought of pain shall be\n By me unlooked-for; but I needs must bear\n My destiny as best I may, knowing well\n The might resistless of Necessity.\n And neither may I speak of this my fate,\n Nor hold my peace. For I, poor I, through giving\n Great gifts to mortal men, am prisoner made\n In these fast fetters; yea, in fennel stalk[144]\n I snatched the hidden spring of stolen fire,\n Which is to men a teacher of all arts, 110\n Their chief resource. And now this penalty\n Of that offence I pay, fast riveted\n In chains beneath the open firmament.\n Ha! ha! What now?\n What sound, what odour floats invisibly?[145]\n Is it of God or man, or blending both?\n And has one come to the remotest rock\n To look upon my woes? Or what wills he?\n Behold me bound, a God to evil doomed,\n The foe of Zeus, and held\n In hatred by all Gods 120\n Who tread the courts of Zeus:\n And this for my great love,\n Too great, for mortal men.\n Ah me! what rustling sounds\n Hear I of birds not far?\n With the light whirr of wings\n The air re-echoeth:\n All that draws nigh to me is cause of fear.[146]\n\n _Enter Chorus of_ Ocean Nymphs, _with wings,\n floating in the air_[147]\n\n _Chor._ Nay, fear thou nought: in love\n All our array of wings\n In eager race hath come 130\n To this high peak, full hardly gaining o'er\n Our Father's mind and will;\n And the swift-rushing breezes bore me on:\n For lo! the echoing sound of blows on iron\n Pierced to our cave's recess, and put to flight\n My shamefast modesty,\n And I in unshod haste, on winged car,\n To thee rushed hitherward.\n\n _Prom._ Ah me! ah me!\n Offspring of Tethys blest with many a child, 140\n Daughters of Old Okeanos that rolls\n Round all the earth with never-sleeping stream,\n Behold ye me, and see\n With what chains fettered fast,\n I on the topmost crags of this ravine\n Shall keep my sentry-post unenviable.\n\n _Chor._ I see it, O Prometheus, and a mist\n Of fear and full of tears comes o'er mine eyes,\n Thy frame beholding thus,\n Writhing on these high rocks 150\n In adamantine ills.\n New pilots now o'er high Olympos rule,\n And with new-fashioned laws\n Zeus reigns, down-trampling right,\n And all the ancient powers He sweeps away.\n\n _Prom._ Ah! would that 'neath the Earth, 'neath Hades too,\n Home of the dead, far down to Tartaros 160\n Unfathomable He in fetters fast\n In wrath had hurled me down:\n So neither had a God\n Nor any other mocked at these my woes;\n But now, the wretched plaything of the winds,\n I suffer ills at which my foes rejoice.\n\n _Chor._ Nay, which of all the Gods\n Is so hard-hearted as to joy in this?\n Who, Zeus excepted, doth not pity thee\n In these thine ills? But He,\n Ruthless, with soul unbent,\n Subdues the heavenly host, nor will He cease[148] 170\n Until his heart be satiate with power,\n Or some one seize with subtle stratagem\n The sovran might that so resistless seemed.\n\n _Prom._ Nay, of a truth, though put to evil shame,\n In massive fetters bound,\n The Ruler of the Gods\n Shall yet have need of me, yes, e'en of me,\n To tell the counsel new\n That seeks to strip from him\n His sceptre and his might of sovereignty.\n In vain will He with words\n Or suasion's honeyed charms 180\n Soothe me, nor will I tell\n Through fear of his stern threats,\n Ere He shall set me free\n From these my bonds, and make,\n Of his own choice, amends\n For all these outrages.\n\n _Chor._ Full rash art thou, and yield'st\n In not a jot to bitterest form of woe;\n Thou art o'er-free and reckless in thy speech:\n But piercing fear hath stirred\n My inmost soul to strife;\n For I fear greatly touching thy distress,\n As to what haven of these woes of thine 190\n Thou now must steer: the son of Cronos hath\n A stubborn mood and heart inexorable.\n\n _Prom._ I know that Zeus is hard,\n And keeps the Right supremely to himself;\n But then, I trow, He'll be\n Full pliant in his will,\n When He is thus crushed down.\n Then, calming down his mood\n Of hard and bitter wrath,\n He'll hasten unto me,\n As I to him shall haste, 200\n For friendship and for peace.\n\n _Chor._ Hide it not from us, tell us all the tale:\n For what offence Zeus, having seized thee thus,\n So wantonly and bitterly insults thee:\n If the tale hurt thee not, inform thou us.\n\n _Prom._ Painful are these things to me e'en to speak:\n Painful is silence; everywhere is woe.\n For when the high Gods fell on mood of wrath,\n And hot debate of mutual strife was stirred,\n Some wishing to hurl Cronos from his throne,\n That Zeus, forsooth, might reign; while others strove,\n Eager that Zeus might never rule the Gods: 210\n Then I, full strongly seeking to persuade\n The Titans, yea, the sons of Heaven and Earth,\n Failed of my purpose. Scorning subtle arts,\n With counsels violent, they thought that they\n By force would gain full easy mastery.\n But then not once or twice my mother Themis\n And Earth, one form though bearing many names,[149]\n Had prophesied the future, how 'twould run,\n That not by strength nor yet by violence, 220\n But guile, should those who prospered gain the day.\n And when in my words I this counsel gave,\n They deigned not e'en to glance at it at all.\n And then of all that offered, it seemed best\n To join my mother, and of mine own will,\n Not against his will, take my side with Zeus,\n And by my counsels, mine, the dark deep pit\n Of Tartaros the ancient Cronos holds,\n Himself and his allies. Thus profiting\n By me, the mighty ruler of the Gods 230\n Repays me with these evil penalties:\n For somehow this disease in sovereignty\n Inheres, of never trusting to one's friends.[150]\n And since ye ask me under what pretence\n He thus maltreats me, I will show it you:\n For soon as He upon his father's throne\n Had sat secure, forthwith to divers Gods\n He divers gifts distributed, and his realm\n Began to order. But of mortal men\n He took no heed, but purposed utterly 240\n To crush their race and plant another new;\n And, I excepted, none dared cross his will;\n But I did dare, and mortal men I freed\n From passing on to Hades thunder-stricken;\n And therefore am I bound beneath these woes,\n Dreadful to suffer, pitiable to see:\n And I, who in my pity thought of men\n More than myself, have not been worthy deemed\n To gain like favour, but all ruthlessly\n I thus am chained, foul shame this sight to Zeus.\n\n _Chor._ Iron-hearted must he be and made of rock 250\n Who is not moved, Prometheus, by thy woes:\n Fain could I wish I ne'er had seen such things,\n And, seeing them, am wounded to the heart.\n\n _Prom._ Yea, I am piteous for my friends to see.\n\n _Chor._ Did'st thou not go to farther lengths than this?\n\n _Prom._ I made men cease from contemplating death.[151]\n\n _Chor._ What medicine did'st thou find for that disease?\n\n _Prom._ Blind hopes I gave to live and dwell with them.\n\n _Chor._ Great service that thou did'st for mortal men!\n\n _Prom._ And more than that, I gave them fire, yes I. 260\n\n _Chor._ Do short-lived men the flaming fire possess?\n\n _Prom._ Yea, and full many an art they'll learn from it.\n\n _Chor._ And is it then on charges such as these\n That Zeus maltreats thee, and no respite gives\n Of many woes? And has thy pain no end?\n\n _Prom._ End there is none, except as pleases Him.\n\n _Chor._ How shall it please? What hope hast thou? See'st not\n That thou hast sinned? Yet to say how thou sinned'st\n Gives me no pleasure, and is pain to thee.\n Well! let us leave these things, and, if we may,\n Seek out some means to 'scape from this thy woe. 270\n\n _Prom._ 'Tis a light thing for one who has his foot\n Beyond the reach of evil to exhort\n And counsel him who suffers. This to me\n Was all well known. Yea, willing, willingly\n I sinned, nor will deny it. Helping men,\n I for myself found trouble: yet I thought not\n That I with such dread penalties as these\n Should wither here on these high-towering crags,\n Lighting on this lone hill and neighbourless.\n Wherefore wail not for these my present woes,\n But, drawing nigh, my coming fortunes hear, 280\n That ye may learn the whole tale to the end.\n Nay, hearken, hearken; show your sympathy\n With him who suffers now. 'Tis thus that woe,\n Wandering, now falls on this one, now on that.\n\n _Chor._ Not to unwilling hearers hast thou uttered,\n Prometheus, thy request,\n And now with nimble foot abounding\n My swiftly rushing car,\n And the pure \u00e6ther, path of birds of heaven, 290\n I will draw near this rough and rocky land,\n For much do I desire\n To hear this tale, full measure, of thy woes.\n\n _Enter_ OKEANOS, _on a car drawn by a winged gryphon_\n\n _Okean._ Lo, I come to thee, Prometheus,\n Reaching goal of distant journey,[152]\n Guiding this my winged courser\n By my will, without a bridle;\n And thy sorrows move my pity.\n Force, in part, I deem, of kindred\n Leads me on, nor know I any,\n Whom, apart from kin, I honour 300\n More than thee, in fuller measure.\n This thou shall own true and earnest:\n I deal not in glozing speeches.\n Come then, tell me how to help thee;\n Ne'er shalt thou say that one more friendly\n Is found than unto thee is Okean.\n\n _Prom._ Let be. What boots it? Thou then too art come\n To gaze upon my sufferings. How did'st dare\n Leaving the stream that bears thy name, and caves\n Hewn in the living rock, this land to visit,\n Mother of iron? What then, art thou come\n To gaze upon my fall and offer pity? 310\n Behold this sight: see here the friend of Zeus,\n Who helped to seat him in his sovereignty,\n With what foul outrage I am crushed by him!\n\n _Okean._ I see, Prometheus, and I wish to give thee\n My best advice, all subtle though thou be.\n Know thou thyself,[153] and fit thy soul to moods\n To thee full new. New king the Gods have now;\n But if thou utter words thus rough and sharp,\n Perchance, though sitting far away on high, 320\n Zeus yet may hear thee, and his present wrath\n Seem to thee but as child's play of distress.\n Nay, thou poor sufferer, quit the rage thou hast,\n And seek a remedy for these thine ills.\n A tale thrice-told, perchance I seem to speak:\n Lo! this, Prometheus, is the punishment\n Of thine o'er lofty speech, nor art thou yet\n Humbled, nor yieldest to thy miseries,\n And fain would'st add fresh evils unto these.\n But thou, if thou wilt take me as thy teacher, 330\n Wilt not kick out against the pricks;[154] seeing well\n A monarch reigns who gives account to none.\n And now I go, and will an effort make,\n If I, perchance, may free thee from thy woes;\n Be still then, hush thy petulance of speech,\n Or knowest thou not, o'er-clever as thou art,\n That idle tongues must still their forfeit pay?\n\n _Prom._ I envy thee, seeing thou art free from blame\n Though thou shared'st all, and in my cause wast bold;[155]\n Nay, let me be, nor trouble thou thyself; 340\n Thou wilt not, canst not soothe Him; very hard\n Is He of soothing. Look to it thyself,\n Lest thou some mischief meet with in the way.\n\n _Okean._ It is thy wont thy neighbours' minds to school\n Far better than thine own. From deeds, not words,\n I draw my proof. But do not draw me back\n When I am hasting on, for lo, I deem,\n I deem that Zeus will grant this boon to me,\n That I should free thee from these woes of thine.\n\n _Prom._ I thank thee much, yea, ne'er will cease to thank;\n For thou no whit of zeal dost lack; yet take,\n I pray, no trouble for me; all in vain\n Thy trouble, nothing helping, e'en if thou 350\n Should'st care to take the trouble. Nay, be still;\n Keep out of harm's way; sufferer though I be,\n I would not therefore wish to give my woes\n A wider range o'er others. No, not so:\n For lo! my mind is wearied with the grief\n Of that my kinsman Atlas,[156] who doth stand\n In the far West, supporting on his shoulders\n The pillars of the earth and heaven, a burden\n His arms can ill but hold: I pity too\n The giant dweller of Kilikian caves, 360\n Dread portent, with his hundred hands, subdued\n By force, the mighty Typhon,[157] who arose\n 'Gainst all the Gods, with sharp and dreadful jaws\n Hissing out slaughter, and from out his eyes\n There flashed the terrible brightness as of one\n Who would lay low the sovereignty of Zeus.\n But the unsleeping dart of Zeus came on him,\n Down-swooping thunderbolt that breathes out flame,\n Which from his lofty boastings startled him,\n For he i' the heart was struck, to ashes burnt, 370\n His strength all thunder-shattered; and he lies\n A helpless, powerless carcase, near the strait\n Of the great sea, fast pressed beneath the roots\n Of ancient \u00c6tna, where on highest peak\n Heph\u00e6stos sits and smites his iron red-hot,\n From whence hereafter streams of fire shall burst,[158]\n Devouring with fierce jaws the golden plains\n Of fruitful, fair Sikelia. Such the wrath\n That Typhon shall belch forth with bursts of storm,\n Hot, breathing fire, and unapproachable,\n Though burnt and charred by thunderbolts of Zeus. 380\n Not inexperienced art thou, nor dost need\n My teaching: save thyself, as thou know'st how;\n And I will drink my fortune to the dregs,\n Till from his wrath the mind of Zeus shall rest.[159]\n\n _Okean._ Know'st thou not this, Prometheus, even this,\n Of wrath's disease wise words the healers are?\n\n _Prom._ Yea, could one soothe the troubled heart in time,\n Nor seek by force to tame the soul's proud flesh.\n\n _Okean._ But in due forethought with bold daring blent,\n What mischief see'st thou lurking? Tell me this. 390\n\n _Prom._ Toil bootless, and simplicity full fond.\n\n _Okean._ Let me, I pray, that sickness suffer, since\n 'Tis best being wise to have not wisdom's show.\n\n _Prom._ Nay, but this error shall be deemed as mine.\n\n _Okean._ Thy word then clearly sends me home at once.\n\n _Prom._ Yea, lest thy pity for me make a foe....\n\n _Okean._ What! of that new king on his mighty throne?\n\n _Prom._ Look to it, lest his heart be vexed with thee.\n\n _Okean._ Thy fate, Prometheus, teaches me that lesson.\n\n _Prom._ Away, withdraw! keep thou the mind thou hast. 400\n\n _Okean._ Thou urgest me who am in act to haste;\n For this my bird four-footed flaps with wings\n The clear path of the \u00e6ther; and full fain\n Would he bend knee in his own stall at home. [_Exit_.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ I grieve, Prometheus, for thy dreary fate,\n Shedding from tender eyes\n The dew of plenteous tears;\n With streams, as when the watery south wind blows,\n My cheek is wet; 410\n For lo! these things are all unenviable,\n And Zeus, by his own laws his sway maintaining,\n Shows to the elder Gods\n A mood of haughtiness.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n And all the country echoeth with the moan,\n And poureth many a tear\n For that magnific power\n Of ancient days far-seen that thou did'st share\n With those of one blood sprung;\n And all the mortal men who hold the plain 420\n Of holy Asia as their land of sojourn,\n They grieve in sympathy\n For thy woes lamentable.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n And they, the maiden band who find their home\n On distant Colchian coasts,\n Fearless of fight,[160]\n Or Skythian horde in earth's remotest clime,\n By far M\u00e6otic lake;[161]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n *And warlike glory of Arabia's tribes,[162]\n Who nigh to Caucasos 430\n In rock-fort dwell,\n An army fearful, with sharp-pointed spear\n Raging in war's array.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n One other Titan only have I seen,\n One other of the Gods,\n Thus bound in woes of adamantine strength\u2014\n Atlas, who ever groans\n Beneath the burden of a crushing might,\n The out-spread vault of heaven.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And lo! the ocean billows murmur loud 440\n In one accord with him;[163]\n The sea-depths groan, and Hades' swarthy pit\n Re-echoeth the sound,\n And fountains of clear rivers, as they flow,\n Bewail his bitter griefs.\n\n _Prom._ Think not it is through pride or stiff self-will\n That I am silent. But my heart is worn,\n Self-contemplating, as I see myself\n Thus outraged. Yet what other hand than mine\n Gave these young Gods in fulness all their gifts?\n But these I speak not of; for I should tell\n To you that know them. But those woes of men,[164] 450\n List ye to them,\u2014how they, before as babes,\n By me were roused to reason, taught to think;\n And this I say, not finding fault with men,\n But showing my good-will in all I gave.\n For first, though seeing, all in vain they saw,\n And hearing, heard not rightly. But, like forms\n Of phantom-dreams, throughout their life's whole length\n They muddled all at random; did not know\n Houses of brick that catch the sunlight's warmth,\n Nor yet the work of carpentry. They dwelt\n In hollowed holes, like swarms of tiny ants, 460\n In sunless depths of caverns; and they had\n No certain signs of winter, nor of spring\n Flower-laden, nor of summer with her fruits;\n But without counsel fared their whole life long,\n Until I showed the risings of the stars,\n And settings hard to recognise.[165] And I\n Found Number for them, chief device of all,\n *Groupings of letters, Memory's handmaid that,\n And mother of the Muses.[166] And I first\n Bound in the yoke wild steeds, submissive made 470\n Or to the collar or men's limbs, that so\n They might in man's place bear his greatest toils;\n And horses trained to love the rein I yoked\n To chariots, glory of wealth's pride of state;[167]\n Nor was it any one but I that found\n Sea-crossing, canvas-wing\u00e8d cars of ships:\n Such rare designs inventing (wretched me!)\n For mortal men, I yet have no device\n By which to free myself from this my woe.[168]\n\n _Chor._ Foul shame thou sufferest: of thy sense bereaved, 480\n Thou errest greatly: and, like leech unskilled,\n Thou losest heart when smitten with disease,\n And know'st not how to find the remedies\n Wherewith to heal thine own soul's sicknesses.\n\n _Prom._ Hearing what yet remains thou'lt wonder more,\n What arts and what resources I devised:\n And this the chief: if any one fell ill,\n There was no help for him, nor healing food,\n Nor unguent, nor yet potion; but for want\n Of drugs they wasted, till I showed to them\n The blendings of all mild medicaments,[169] 490\n Wherewith they ward the attacks of sickness sore.\n I gave them many modes of prophecy;[170]\n And I first taught them what dreams needs must prove\n True visions, and made known the ominous sounds\n Full hard to know; and tokens by the way,\n And flights of taloned birds I clearly marked,\u2014\n Those on the right propitious to mankind,\n And those sinister,\u2014and what form of life\n They each maintain, and what their enmities\n Each with the other, and their loves and friendships; 500\n And of the inward parts the plumpness smooth.\n And with what colour they the Gods would please,\n And the streaked comeliness of gall and liver:\n And with burnt limbs enwrapt in fat, and chine,\n I led men on to art full difficult:\n And I gave eyes to omens drawn from fire,\n Till then dim-visioned. So far then for this.\n And 'neath the earth the hidden boons for men,\n Bronze, iron, silver, gold, who else could say 510\n That he, ere I did, found them? None, I know,\n Unless he fain would babble idle words.\n In one short word, then, learn the truth condensed,\u2014\n Allarts of mortals from Prometheus spring.\n\n _Chor._ Nay, be not thou to men so over-kind,\n While thou thyself art in sore evil case;\n For I am sanguine that thou too, released\n From bonds, shall be as strong as Zeus himself.\n\n _Prom._ It is not thus that Fate's decree is fixed;\n But I, long crushed with twice ten thousand woes 520\n And bitter pains, shall then escape my bonds;\n Art is far weaker than Necessity.\n\n _Chor._ Who guides the helm, then, of Necessity?\n\n _Prom._ Fates triple-formed, Errinyes unforgetting.\n\n _Chor._ Is Zeus, then, weaker in his might than these?\n\n _Prom._ Not even He can 'scape the thing decreed.\n\n _Chor._ What is decreed for Zeus but still to reign?\n\n _Prom._ Thou may'st no further learn, ask thou no more.\n\n _Chor._ 'Tis doubtless some dread secret which thou hidest.\n\n _Prom._ Of other theme make mention, for the time 530\n Is not yet come to utter this, but still\n It must be hidden to the uttermost;\n For by thus keeping it it is that I\n Escape my bondage foul, and these my pains.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Ah! ne'er may Zeus the Lord,\n Whose sovran sway rules all,\n His strength in conflict set\n Against my feeble will!\n Nor may I fail to serve\n The Gods with holy feast\n Of whole burnt-offerings,\n Where the stream ever flows\n That bears my father's name,\n The great Okeanos!\n Nor may I sin in speech! 540\n May this grace more and more\n Sink deep into my soul\n And never fade away!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n Sweet is it in strong hope\n To spend long years of life,\n With bright and cheering joy\n Our heart's thoughts nourishing.\n I shudder, seeing thee\n Thus vexed and harassed sore.\n By twice ten thousand woes;\n For thou in pride of heart,\n Having no fear of Zeus, 550\n In thine own obstinacy,\n Dost show for mortal men,\n Prometheus, love o'ermuch.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n See how that boon, dear friends,\n For thee is bootless found.\n Say, where is any help?\n What aid from mortals comes?\n Hast thou not seen this brief and powerless life,\n Fleeting as dreams, with which man's purblind race\n Is fast in fetters bound? 560\n Never shall counsels vain\n Of mortal men break through\n The harmony of Zeus.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n This lesson have I learnt\n Beholding thy sad fate,\n Prometheus! Other strains\n Come back upon my mind,\n When I sang wedding hymns around thy bath,\n And at thy bridal bed, when thou did'st take\n In wedlock's holy bands\n One of the same sire born,\n Our own Hesione, 570\n Persuading her with gifts\n As wife to share thy couch.\n\n _Enter_ IO _in form like a fair woman with a heifer's\n horns_,[171] _followed by the Spectre of_ ARGOS\n\n _Io._ What land is this? What people? Whom shall I\n Say that I see thus vexed\n With bit and curb of rock?\n For what offence dost thou\n Bear fatal punishment?\n Tell me to what far land\n I've wandered here in woe.\n Ah me! ah me!\n Again the gadfly stings me miserable.\n Spectre of Argos, thou, the earth-born one\u2014\n Ah, keep him off, O Earth!\n I fear to look upon that herdsman dread, 580\n Him with ten thousand eyes:\n Ah lo! he cometh with his crafty look,\n Whom Earth refuses even dead to hold;[172]\n But coming from beneath\n He hunts me miserable,\n And drives me famished o'er the sea-beach sand.\n\n\n STROPHE\n\n And still his waxened reed-pipe soundeth clear\n A soft and slumberous strain;\n O heavens! O ye Gods! 590\n Whither do these long wanderings lead me on?\n For what offence, O son of Cronos, what,\n Hast thou thus bound me fast\n In these great miseries?\n Ah me! ah me!\n And why with terror of the gadfly's sting\n Dost thou thus vex me, frenzied in my soul?\n Burn me with fire, or bury me in earth,\n Or to wild sea-beasts give me as a prey:\n Nay, grudge me not, O King,\n An answer to my prayers: 600\n Enough my many-wandered wanderings\n Have exercised my soul,\n Nor have I power to learn\n How to avert the woe.\n\n (_To Prometheus_.) Hear'st thou the voice of maiden crowned with horns?\n\n _Prom._ Surely I heard the maid by gadfly driven,\n Daughter of Inachos, who warmed the heart\n Of Zeus with love, and now through Hera's hate\n Is tried, perforce, with wanderings over-long?\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE\n\n _Io._ How is it that thou speak'st my father's name?\n Tell me, the suffering one, 610\n Who art thou, who, poor wretch,\n Who thus so truly nam'st me miserable,\n And tell'st the plague from Heaven,\n Which with its haunting stings\n Wears me to death? Ah woe!\n And I with famished and unseemly bounds\n Rush madly, driven by Hera's jealous craft.\n Ah, who of all that suffer, born to woe, 620\n Have trouble like the pain that I endure?\n But thou, make clear to me,\n What yet for me remains,\n What remedy, what healing for my pangs.\n Show me, if thou dost know:\n Speak out and tell to me,\n The maid by wanderings vexed.\n\n _Prom._ I will say plainly all thou seek'st to know;\n Not in dark tangled riddles, but plain speech,\n As it is meet that friends to friends should speak;\n Thou see'st Prometheus who gave fire to men. 630\n\n _Io._ O thou to men as benefactor known,\n Why, poor Prometheus, sufferest thou this pain?\n\n _Prom._ I have but now mine own woes ceased to wail.\n\n _Io._ Wilt thou not then bestow this boon on me?\n\n _Prom._ Say what thou seek'st, for I will tell thee all.\n\n _Io._ Tell me, who fettered thee in this ravine?\n\n _Prom._ The counsel was of Zeus, the hand Heph\u00e6stos'.\n\n _Io._ Of what offence dost thou the forfeit pay?\n\n _Prom._ Thus much alone am I content to tell.\n\n _Io._ Tell me, at least, besides, what end shall come 640\n To my drear wanderings; when the time shall be.\n\n _Prom._ Not to know this is better than to know.\n\n _Io._ Nay, hide not from me what I have to bear.\n\n _Prom._ It is not that I grudge the boon to thee.\n\n _Io._ Why then delayest thou to tell the whole?\n\n _Prom._ Not from ill will, but loth to vex thy soul.\n\n _Io._ Nay, care thou not beyond what pleases me.\n\n _Prom._ If thou desire it I must speak. Hear then.\n\n _Chor._ Not yet though; grant me share of pleasure too.\n Let us first ask the tale of her great woe, 650\n While she unfolds her life's consuming chances;\n Her future sufferings let her learn from thee.\n\n _Prom._ 'Tis thy work, Io, to grant these their wish,\n On other grounds and as thy father's kin:[173]\n For to bewail and moan one's evil chance,\n Here where one trusts to gain a pitying tear\n From those who hear,\u2014this is not labour lost.\n\n _Io._ I know not how to disobey your wish;\n So ye shall learn the whole that ye desire\n In speech full clear. And yet I blush to tell 660\n The storm that came from God, and brought the loss\n Of maiden face, what way it seized on me.\n For nightly visions coming evermore\n Into my virgin bower, sought to woo me\n With glozing words. \u201cO virgin greatly blest,\n Why art thou still a virgin when thou might'st\n Attain to highest wedlock? For with dart\n Of passion for thee Zeus doth glow, and fain\n Would make thee his. And thou, O child, spurn not\n The bed of Zeus, but go to Lerna's field, 670\n Where feed thy father's flocks and herds,\n That so the eye of Zeus may find repose\n From this his craving.\u201d With such visions I\n Was haunted every evening, till I dared\n To tell my father all these dreams of night,\n And he to Pytho and Dodona sent\n Full many to consult the Gods, that he,\n Might learn what deeds and words would please Heaven's lords.\n And they came bringing speech of oracles\n Shot with dark sayings, dim and hard to know. 680\n At last a clear word came to Inachos\n Charging him plainly, and commanding him\n To thrust me from my country and my home,\n To stray at large[174] to utmost bounds of earth;\n And, should he gainsay, that the fiery bolt\n Of Zeus should come and sweep away his race.\n And he, by Loxias' oracles induced,\n Thrust me, against his will, against mine too,\n And drove me from my home; but spite of all,\n The curb of Zeus constrained him this to do. 690\n And then forthwith my face and mind were changed;\n And horn\u00e8d, as ye see me, stung to the quick\n By biting gadfly, I with maddened leap\n Rushed to Kerchneia's fair and limpid stream,\n And fount of Lerna.[175] And a giant herdsman,\n Argos, full rough of temper, followed me,\n With many an eye beholding, on my track:\n And him a sudden and unlooked-for doom\n Deprived of life. And I, by gadfly stung,\n By scourge from Heaven am driven from land to land. 700\n What has been done thou hearest. And if thou\n Can'st tell what yet remains of woe, declare it;\n Nor in thy pity soothe me with false words;\n For hollow words, I deem, are worst of ills.\n\n _Chor._ Away, away, let be:\n Ne'er thought I that such tales\n Would ever, ever come unto mine ears;\n Nor that such terrors, woes and outrages,\n Hard to look on, hard to bear, 710\n Would chill my soul with sharp goad, double-edged.\n Ah fate! Ah fate!\n I shudder, seeing Io's fortune strange.\n\n _Prom._ Thou art too quick in groaning, full of fear:\n Wait thou a while until thou hear the rest.\n\n _Chor._ Speak thou and tell. Unto the sick 'tis sweet\n Clearly to know what yet remains of pain.\n\n _Prom._ Your former wish ye gained full easily.\n Your first desire was to learn of her 720\n The tale she tells of her own sufferings;\n Now therefore hear the woes that yet remain\n For this poor maid to bear at Hera's hands.\n And thou, O child of Inachos! take heed\n To these my words, that thou may'st hear the goal\n Of all thy wanderings. First then, turning hence\n Towards the sunrise, tread the untilled plains,\n And thou shalt reach the Skythian nomads, those[176]\n Who on smooth-rolling waggons dwell aloft\n In wicker houses, with far-darting bows 730\n Duly equipped. Approach thou not to these,\n But trending round the coasts on which the surf\n Beats with loud murmurs,[177] traverse thou that clime.\n On the left hand there dwell the Chalybes,[178]\n Who work in iron. Of these do thou beware,\n For fierce are they and most inhospitable;\n And thou wilt reach the river fierce and strong,\n True to its name.[179] This seek not thou to cross,\n For it is hard to ford, until thou come\n To Caucasos itself, of all high hills\n The highest, where a river pours its strength\n From the high peaks themselves. And thou must cross 740\n Those summits near the stars, must onward go\n Towards the south, where thou shalt find the host\n Of the Am\u00e2zons, hating men, whose home\n Shall one day be around Therm\u00f4don's bank,\n By Themiskyra,[180] where the ravenous jaws\n Of Salmydessos ope upon the sea,\n Treacherous to sailors, stepdame stern to ships.[181]\n And they with right good-will shall be thy guides;\n And thou, hard by a broad pool's narrow gates,\n Wilt pass to the Kimmerian isthmus. Leaving\n This boldly, thou must cross M\u00e6otic channel;[182] 750\n And there shall be great fame 'mong mortal men\n Of this thy journey, and the Bosporos[183]\n Shall take its name from thee. And Europe's plain\n Then quitting, thou shalt gain the Asian coast.\n Doth not the all-ruling monarch of the Gods\n Seem all ways cruel? For, although a God,\n He, seeking to embrace this mortal maid,\n Imposed these wanderings on her. Thou hast found,\n O maiden! bitter suitor for thy hand;\n For great as are the ills thou now hast heard,\n Know that as yet not e'en the prelude's known. 760\n\n _Io._ Ah woe! woe! woe!\n\n _Prom._ Again thou groan'st and criest. What wilt do\n When thou shall learn the evils yet to come?\n\n _Chor._ What! are there troubles still to come for her?\n\n _Prom._ Yea, stormy sea of woe most lamentable.\n\n _Io._ What gain is it to live? Why cast I not\n Myself at once from this high precipice,\n And, dashed to earth, be free from all my woes?\n Far better were it once for all to die\n Than all one's days to suffer pain and grief. 770\n\n _Prom._ My struggles then full hardly thou would'st bear,\n For whom there is no destiny of death;\n For that might bring a respite from my woes:\n But now there is no limit to my pangs\n Till Zeus be hurled out from his sovereignty.\n\n _Io._ What! shall Zeus e'er be hurled from his high state?\n\n _Prom._ Thou would'st rejoice, I trow, to see that fall.\n\n _Io._ How should I not, when Zeus so foully wrongs me?\n\n _Prom._ That this is so thou now may'st hear from me.\n\n _Io._ Who then shall rob him of his sceptred sway? 780\n\n _Prom._ Himself shall do it by his own rash plans.\n\n _Io._ But how? Tell this, unless it bringeth harm.\n\n _Prom._ He shall wed one for whom one day he'll grieve.\n\n _Io._ Heaven-born or mortal? Tell, if tell thou may'st.\n\n _Prom._ Why ask'st thou who? I may not tell thee that.\n\n _Io._ Shall his bride hurl him from his throne of might?\n\n _Prom._ Yea; she shall bear child mightier than his sire.\n\n _Io._ Has he no way to turn aside that doom?\n\n _Prom._ No, none; unless I from my bonds be loosed.[184]\n\n _Io._ Who then shall loose thee 'gainst the will of Zeus? 790\n\n _Prom._ It must be one of thy posterity.\n\n _Io._ What, shall a child of mine free thee from ills?\n\n _Prom._ Yea, the third generation after ten.[185]\n\n _Io._ No more thine oracles are clear to me.\n\n *_Prom._ Nay, seek not thou thine own drear fate to know.\n\n _Io._ Do not, a boon presenting, then withdraw it.\n\n _Prom._ Of two alternatives, I'll give thee choice.\n\n _Io._ Tell me of what, then give me leave to choose.\n\n _Prom._ I give it then. Choose, or that I should tell\n Thy woes to come, or who shall set me free. 800\n\n _Chor._ Of these be willing one request to grant\n To her, and one to me; nor scorn my words:\n Tell her what yet of wanderings she must bear,\n And me who shall release thee. This I crave.\n\n _Prom._ Since ye are eager, I will not refuse\n To utter fully all that ye desire.\n Thee, Io, first I'll tell thy wanderings wild,\n Thou, write it in the tablets of thy mind.\n When thou shalt cross the straits, of continents\n The boundary,[186] take thou the onward path\n On to the fiery-hued and sun-tracked East. 810\n [And first of all, to frozen Northern blasts\n Thou'lt come, and there beware the rushing whirl,\n Lest it should come upon thee suddenly,\n And sweep thee onward with the cloud-rack wild;][187]\n Crossing the sea-surf till thou come at last\n Unto Kisthene's Gorgoneian plains,\n Where dwell the grey-haired virgin Phorkides,[188]\n Three, swan-shaped, with one eye between them all\n And but one tooth; whom nor the sun beholds\n With radiant beams, nor yet the moon by night:\n And near them are their wing\u00e8d sisters three,\n The Gorgons, serpent-tressed, and hating men,\n Whom mortal wight may not behold and live. 820\n *Such is one ill I bid thee guard against;\n Now hear another monstrous sight: Beware\n The sharp-beaked hounds of Zeus that never bark,[189]\n The Gryphons, and the one-eyed, mounted host\n Of Arimaspians, who around the stream\n That flows o'er gold, the ford of Pluto, dwell:[190]\n Draw not thou nigh to them. But distant land\n Thou shalt approach, the swarthy tribes who dwell\n By the sun's fountain,[191] \u00c6thiopia's stream:\n By its banks wend thy way until thou come\n To that great fall where from the Bybline hills 830\n The Neilos pours its pure and holy flood;\n And it shall guide thee to Neilotic land,\n Three-angled, where, O Io, 'tis decreed\n For thee and for thy progeny to found\n A far-off colony. And if of this\n Aught seem to thee as stammering speech obscure,\n Ask yet again and learn it thoroughly:\n Far more of leisure have I than I like.\n\n _Chor._ If thou hast aught to add, aught left untold\n Of her sore-wasting wanderings, speak it out; 840\n But if thou hast said all, then grant to us\n The boon we asked. Thou dost not, sure, forget it.\n\n _Prom._ The whole course of her journeying she hath heard,\n And that she know she hath not heard in vain\n I will tell out what troubles she hath borne\n Before she came here, giving her sure proof\n Of these my words. The greater bulk of things\n I will pass o'er, and to the very goal\n Of all thy wanderings go. For when thou cam'st\n To the Molossian plains, and by the grove[192]\n Of lofty-ridged Dodona, and the shrine\n Oracular of Zeus Thesprotian, 850\n And the strange portent of the talking oaks,\n By which full clearly, not in riddle dark,\n Thou wast addressed as noble spouse of Zeus,\u2014\n If aught of pleasure such things give to thee,\u2014\n Thence strung to frenzy, thou did'st rush along\n The sea-coast's path to Rhea's mighty gulf,[193]\n In backward way from whence thou now art vexed,\n And for all time to come that reach of sea,\n Know well, from thee Ionian shall be called,\n To all men record of thy journeyings. 860\n These then are tokens to thee that my mind\n Sees somewhat more than that is manifest.\n\n What follows (_to the Chorus_) I will speak to you and her\n In common, on the track of former words\n Returning once again. A city stands,\n Can\u00f4bos, at its country's furthest bound,\n Hard by the mouth and silt-bank of the Nile;\n There Zeus shall give thee back thy mind again,[194]\n With hand that works no terror touching thee,\u2014\n Touch only\u2014and thou then shalt bear a child\n Of Zeus begotten, Epaphos, \u201cTouch-born,\u201d 870\n Swarthy of hue, whose lot shall be to reap\n The whole plain watered by the broad-streamed Neilos:\n And in the generation fifth from him\n A household numbering fifty shall return\n Against their will to Argos, in their flight\n From wedlock with their cousins.[195] And they too,\n (Kites but a little space behind the doves)\n With eager hopes pursuing marriage rites\n Beyond pursuit shall come; and God shall grudge\n To give up their sweet bodies. And the land\n Pelasgian[196] shall receive them, when by stroke\n Of woman's murderous hand these men shall lie\n Smitten to death by daring deed of night: 880\n For every bride shall take her husband's life,\n And dip in blood the sharp two-edg\u00e8d sword\n (So to my foes may Kypris show herself!)[197]\n Yet one of that fair band shall love persuade\n Her husband not to slaughter, and her will\n Shall lose its edge; and she shall make her choice\n Rather as weak than murderous to be known.\n And she at Argos shall a royal seed\n Bring forth (long speech 'twould take to tell this clear) 890\n Famed for his arrows, who shall set me free[198]\n From these my woes. Such was the oracle\n Mine ancient mother Themis, Titan-born,\n Gave to me; but the manner and the means,\u2014\n That needs a lengthy tale to tell the whole,\n And thou can'st nothing gain by learning it.\n\n _Io._ Eleleu! Oh, Eleleu![199]\n The throbbing pain inflames me, and the mood\n Of frenzy-smitten rage;\n The gadfly's pointed sting,\n Not forged with fire, attacks,\n And my heart beats against my breast with fear. 900\n Mine eyes whirl round and round:\n Out of my course I'm borne\n By the wild spirit of fierce agony,\n And cannot curb my lips,\n And turbid speech at random dashes on\n Upon the waves of dread calamity.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Wise, very wise was he\n Who first in thought conceived this maxim sage,\n And spread it with his speech,[200]\u2014\n That the best wedlock is with equals found,\n And that a craftsman, born to work with hands,\n Should not desire to wed\n Or with the soft luxurious heirs of wealth, 910\n Or with the race that boast their lineage high.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n Oh ne'er, oh ne'er, dread Fates,\n May ye behold me as the bride of Zeus,\n The partner of his couch,\n Nor may I wed with any heaven-born spouse!\n For I shrink back, beholding Io's lot\n Of loveless maidenhood,\n Consumed and smitten low exceedingly\n By the wild wanderings from great Hera sent!\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n To me, when wedlock is on equal terms, 920\n It gives no cause to fear:\n Ne'er may the love of any of the Gods,\n The strong Gods, look on me\n With glance I cannot 'scape!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n That fate is war that none can war against,\n Source of resourceless ill;\n Nor know I what might then become of me:\n I see not how to 'scape\n The counsel deep of Zeus.\n\n _Prom._ Yea, of a truth shall Zeus, though stiff of will,\n Be brought full low. Such bed of wedlock now\n Is he preparing, one to cast him forth 930\n In darkness from his sovereignty and throne.\n And then the curse his father Cronos spake\n Shall have its dread completion, even that\n He uttered when he left his ancient throne;\n And from these troubles no one of the Gods\n But me can clearly show the way to 'scape.\n I know the time and manner: therefore now\n Let him sit fearless, in his peals on high\n Putting his trust, and shaking in his hands\n His darts fire-breathing. Nought shall they avail\n To hinder him from falling shamefully 940\n A fall intolerable. Such a combatant\n He arms against himself, a marvel dread,\n Who shall a fire discover mightier far\n Than the red levin, and a sound more dread\n Than roaring of the thunder, and shall shiver\n That plague sea-born that causeth earth to quake,\n The trident, weapon of Poseidon's strength:\n And stumbling on this evil, he shall learn\n How far apart a king's lot from a slave's.\n\n _Chor._ What thou dost wish thou mutterest against Zeus.\n\n _Prom._ Things that shall be, and things I wish, I speak. 950\n\n _Chor._ And must we look for one to master Zeus?\n\n _Prom._ Yea, troubles harder far than these are his.\n\n _Chor._ Art not afraid to vent such words as these?\n\n _Prom._ What can I fear whose fate is not to die?\n\n _Chor._ But He may send on thee worse pain than this.\n\n _Prom._ So let Him do: nought finds me unprepared.\n\n _Chor._ Wisdom is theirs who Adrasteia worship.[201]\n\n _Prom._ Worship then, praise and flatter him that rules;\n My care for Zeus is nought, and less than nought:\n Let Him act, let Him rule this little while, 960\n E'en as He will; for long He shall not rule\n Over the Gods. But lo! I see at hand\n The courier of the Gods, the minister\n Of our new sovereign. Doubtless he has come\n To bring me tidings of some new device.\n\n _Enter_ HERMES\n\n _Herm._ Thee do I speak to,\u2014thee, the teacher wise,\n The bitterly o'er-bitter, who 'gainst Gods\n Hast sinned in giving gifts to short-lived men\u2014\n I speak to thee, the filcher of bright fire.\n The Father bids thee say what marriage thou\n Dost vaunt, and who shall hurl Him from his might;\n And this too not in dark mysterious speech, 970\n But tell each point out clearly. Give me not,\n Prometheus, task of double journey. Zeus\n Thou see'st, is not with such words appeased.\n\n _Prom._ Stately of utterance, full of haughtiness\n Thy speech, as fits a messenger of Gods.\n Ye yet are young in your new rule, and think\n To dwell in painless towers. Have I not\n Seen two great rulers driven forth from thence?[202]\n And now the third, who reigneth, I shall see\n In basest, quickest fall. Seem I to thee 980\n To shrink and quail before these new-made Gods?\n Far, very far from that am I. But thou,\n Track once again the path by which thou camest;\n Thou shalt learn nought of what thou askest me.\n\n _Herm._ It was by such self-will as this before\n That thou did'st bring these sufferings on thyself.\n\n _Prom._ I for my part, be sure, would never change\n My evil state for that thy bondslave's lot.\n\n _Herm._ To be the bondslave of this rock, I trow,\n Is better than to be Zeus' trusty herald! 990\n\n _Prom._ So it is meet the insulter to insult.\n\n _Herm._ Thou waxest proud, 'twould seem, of this thy doom.\n\n _Prom._ Wax proud! God grant that I may see my foes\n Thus waxing proud, and thee among the rest!\n\n _Herm._ Dost blame me then for thy calamities?\n\n _Prom._ In one short sentence\u2014all the Gods I hate,\n Who my good turns with evil turns repay.\n\n _Herm._ Thy words prove thee with no slight madness plagued.\n\n _Prom._ If to hate foes be madness, mad I am.\n\n _Herm._ Not one could bear thee wert thou prosperous. 1000\n\n _Prom._ Ah me!\n\n _Herm._ That word is all unknown to Zeus.\n\n _Prom._ Time waxing old can many a lesson teach.\n\n _Herm._ Yet thou at least hast not true wisdom learnt.\n\n _Prom._ I had not else addressed a slave like thee.\n\n _Herm._ Thou wilt say nought the Father asks, 'twould seem.\n\n _Prom._ Fine debt I owe him, favour to repay.\n\n _Herm._ Me as a boy thou scornest then, forsooth.\n\n _Prom._ And art thou not a boy, and sillier far,\n If that thou thinkest to learn aught from me?\n There is no torture nor device by which 1010\n Zeus can impel me to disclose these things\n Before these bonds that outrage me be loosed.\n Let then the blazing levin-flash be hurled;\n With white-winged snow-storm and with earth-born thunders\n Let Him disturb and trouble all that is;\n Nought of these things shall force me to declare\n Whose hand shall drive him from his sovereignty.\n\n _Herm._ See if thou findest any help in this.\n\n _Prom._ Long since all this I've seen, and formed my plans. 1020\n\n _Herm._ O fool, take heart, take heart at last in time,\n To form right thoughts for these thy present woes.\n\n _Prom._ Like one who soothes a wave, thy speech in vain\n Vexes my soul. But deem not thou that I,\n Fearing the will of Zeus, shall e'er become\n As womanised in mind, or shall entreat\n Him whom I greatly loathe, with upturned hand,\n In woman's fashion, from these bonds of mine\n To set me free. Far, far am I from that.\n\n _Herm._ It seems that I, saying much, shall speak in vain;\n For thou in nought by prayers art pacified,\n Or softened in thy heart, but like a colt 1030\n Fresh harnessed, thou dost champ thy bit, and strive,\n And fight against the reins. Yet thou art stiff\n In weak device; for self-will, by itself,\n In one who is not wise, is less than nought.\n Look to it, if thou disobey my words,\n How great a storm and triple wave of ills,[203]\n Not to be 'scaped, shall come on thee; for first,\n With thunder and the levin's blazing flash\n The Father this ravine of rock shall crush,\n And shall thy carcase hide, and stern embrace\n Of stony arms shall keep thee in thy place. 1040\n And having traversed space of time full long,\n Thou shalt come back to light, and then his hound,\n The wing\u00e8d hound of Zeus, the ravening eagle,\n Shall greedily make banquet of thy flesh,\n Coming all day an uninvited guest,\n And glut himself upon thy liver dark.\n And of that anguish look not for the end,\n Before some God shall come to bear thy woes,\n And will to pass to Hades' sunless realm,\n And the dark cloudy depths of Tartaros.[204] 1050\n Wherefore take heed. No feigned boast is this,\n But spoken all too truly; for the lips\n Of Zeus know not to speak a lying speech,\n But will perform each single word. And thou,\n Search well, be wise, nor think that self-willed pride\n Shall ever better prove than counsel good.\n\n _Chor._ To us doth Hermes seem to utter words\n Not out of season; for he bids thee quit\n Thy self-willed pride and seek for counsel good.\n Hearken thou to him. To the wise of soul\n It is foul shame to sin persistently. 1060\n\n _Prom._ To me who knew it all\n He hath this message borne;\n And that a foe from foes\n Should suffer is not strange.\n Therefore on me be hurled\n The sharp-edged wreath of fire;\n And let heaven's vault be stirred\n With thunder and the blasts\n Of fiercest winds; and Earth\n From its foundations strong,\n E'en to its deepest roots,\n Let storm-wind make to rock;\n And let the Ocean wave,\n With wild and foaming surge,\n Be heaped up to the paths 1070\n Where move the stars of heaven;\n And to dark Tartaros\n Let Him my carcase hurl,\n With mighty blasts of force:\n Yet me He shall not slay.\n\n _Herm._ Such words and thoughts from one\n Brain-stricken one may hear.\n What space divides his state\n From frenzy? What repose\n Hath he from maddened rage?\n But ye who pitying stand\n And share his bitter griefs, 1080\n Quickly from hence depart,\n Lest the relentless roar\n Of thunder stun your soul.\n\n _Chor._ With other words attempt\n To counsel and persuade,\n And I will hear: for now\n Thou hast this word thrust in\n That we may never bear.\n How dost thou bid me train\n My soul to baseness vile?\n With him I will endure\n Whatever is decreed.\n Traitors I've learnt to hate,\n Nor is there any plague 1090\n That more than this I loathe.\n\n _Herm._ Nay then, remember ye\n What now I say, nor blame\n Your fortune: never say\n That Zeus hath cast you down\n To evil not foreseen.\n Not so; ye cast yourselves:\n For now with open eyes,\n Not taken unawares,\n In At\u00e8's endless net\n Ye shall entangled be\n By folly of your own.\n\n [_A pause, and then flashes of lightning and\n peals of thunder_[205]\n\n _Prom._ Yea, now in very deed,\n No more in word alone,\n The earth shakes to and fro,\n And the loud thunder's voice\n Bellows hard by, and blaze\n The flashing levin-fires;\n And tempests whirl the dust,\n And gusts of all wild winds\n On one another leap,\n In wild conflicting blasts,\n And sky with sea is blent:\n Such is the storm from Zeus 1110\n That comes as working fear,\n In terrors manifest.\n O Mother venerable!\n O \u00c6ther! rolling round\n The common light of all,\n See'st thou what wrongs I bear?\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 136:\n\n The scene seems at first an exception to the early conventional rule,\n which forbade the introduction of a third actor on the Greek stage.\n But it has been noticed that (1) Force does not speak, and (2)\n Prometheus does not speak till Strength and Force have retired, and\n that it is therefore probable that the whole work of nailing is done\n on a lay figure or effigy of some kind, and that one of the two who\n had before taken part in the dialogue then speaks behind it in the\n character of Prometheus. So the same actor must have appeared in\n succession as Okeanos, Io, and Hermes.\n\nFootnote 137:\n\n Prometheus (_Forethought_) is the son of Themis (_Right_) the second\n occupant of the Pythian Oracle (_Eumen_. v. 2). His sympathy with man\n leads him to impart the gift which raised them out of savage animal\n life, and for this Zeus, who appears throughout the play as a hard\n taskmaster, sentences him to fetters. Heph\u00e6stos, from whom this fire\n had been stolen, has a touch of pity for him. Strength, who comes as\n the servant, not of Heph\u00e6stos, but of Zeus himself, acts, as such,\n with merciless cruelty.\n\nFootnote 138:\n\n The generalised statement refers to Zeus, as having but recently\n expelled Cronos from his throne in Heaven.\n\nFootnote 139:\n\n Heph\u00e6stos, as the great fire-worker, had taught Prometheus to use the\n fire which he afterwards bestowed on men.\n\nFootnote 140:\n\n Perhaps, \u201cAll might is ours except o'er Gods to rule.\u201d\n\nFootnote 141:\n\n The words indicate that the effigy of Prometheus, now nailed to the\n rock, was, as being that of a Titan, of colossal size.\n\nFootnote 142:\n\n The touch is characteristic as showing that here, as in the\n _Eumenides_, \u00c6schylos relied on the horribleness of the masks, as part\n of the machinery of his plays.\n\nFootnote 143:\n\n The silence of Prometheus up to this point was partly, as has been\n said, consequent on the conventional laws of the Greek drama, but it\n is also a touch of supreme insight into the heroic temper. In the\n presence of his torturers, the Titan will not utter even a groan. When\n they are gone, he appeals to the sympathy of Nature.\n\nFootnote 144:\n\n The legend is from Hesiod (_Theogon._, v. 567). The fennel, or\n _narthex_, seems to have been a large umbelliferous plant, with a\n large stem filled with a sort of pith, which was used when dry as\n tinder. Stalks were carried as wands (the _thyrsi_) by the men and\n women who joined in Bacchanalian processions. In modern botany, the\n name is given to the plant which produces Asaf\u0153tida, and the stem of\n which, from its resinous character, would burn freely, and so connect\n itself with the Promethean myth. On the other hand, the Narthex\n Asaf\u0153tida is found at present only in Persia, Afghanistan, and the\n Punjaub.\n\nFootnote 145:\n\n The ocean nymphs, like other divine ones, would be anointed with\n ambrosial unguents, and the odour would be wafted before them by the\n rustling of their wings. This too we may think of as part of the\n \u201cstage effects\u201d of the play.\n\nFootnote 146:\n\n The words are not those of a vague terror only. The sufferer knows\n that his tormentor is to come to him before long on wings, and\n therefore the sound as of the flight of birds is full of terrors.\n\nFootnote 147:\n\n By the same stage mechanism the Chorus remains in the air till verse\n 280, when, at the request of Prometheus, they alight.\n\nFootnote 148:\n\n Here, as throughout the play, the poet puts into the mouth of his\n _dramatis person\u00e6_ words which must have seemed to the devouter\n Athenians sacrilegious enough to call for an indictment before the\n Areiopagos. But the final play of the Trilogy came, we may believe, as\n the _Eumenides_ did in its turn, as a reconciliation of the\n conflicting thoughts that rise in men's minds out of the seeming\n anomalies of the world.\n\nFootnote 149:\n\n The words leave it uncertain whether Themis is identified with Earth,\n or, as in the _Eumenides_ (v. 2) distinguished from her. The Titans as\n a class, then, children of Okeanos and Chth\u00f4n (another name for _Land_\n or _Earth_), are the kindred rather than the brothers of Prometheus.\n\nFootnote 150:\n\n The generalising words here, as in v. 35, appeal to the Athenian\n hatred of all that was represented by the words _tyrant_ and\n _tyranny_.\n\nFootnote 151:\n\n The state described is that of men who \u201cthrough fear of death are all\n their lifetime subject to bondage.\u201d That state, the parent of all\n superstition, fostered the slavish awe in which Zeus delighted.\n Prometheus, representing the active intellect of man, bestows new\n powers, new interests, new hopes, which at last divert them from that\n fear.\n\nFootnote 152:\n\n The home of Okeanos was in the far west, at the boundary of the great\n stream surrounding the whole world, from which he took his name.\n\nFootnote 153:\n\n One of the sayings of the Seven Sages, already recognised and quoted\n as a familiar proverb.\n\nFootnote 154:\n\n See note on _Agam._ 1602.\n\nFootnote 155:\n\n In the mythos, Okeanos had given his daughter Hesione in marriage to\n Prometheus after the theft of fire, and thus had identified himself\n with his transgression.\n\nFootnote 156:\n\n In the _Theogony_ of Hesiod (v. 509), Prometheus and Atlas appear as\n the sons of two sisters. As other Titans were thought of as buried\n under volcanoes, so this one was identified with the mountain which\n had been seen by travellers to Western Africa, or in the seas beyond\n it, rising like a column to support the vault of heaven. In Herodotos\n (iv. 174) and all later writers, the name is given to the chain of\n mountains in Lybia, as being the \u201cpillar of the firmament;\u201d but\n Humboldt and others identify it with the lonely peak of Teneriffe, as\n seen by Ph\u0153nikian or Hellenic voyagers. Teneriffe, too, like most of\n the other Titan mountains, was at one time volcanic. Homer (_Odyss._\n i. 53) represents him as holding the pillars which separate heaven\n from earth; Hesiod (_Theogon._ v. 517) as himself standing near the\n Hesperides (this too points to Teneriffe), sustaining the heavens with\n his head and shoulders.\n\nFootnote 157:\n\n The volcanic character of the whole of Asia Minor, and the liability\n to earthquakes which has marked nearly every period of its history,\n led men to connect it also with the traditions of the Titans, some\n accordingly placing the home of Typhon in Phrygia, some near Sardis,\n some, as here, in Kilikia. Hesiod (_Theogon._ v. 820) describes Typhon\n (or Typhoeus) as a serpent-monster hissing out fire; Pindar (_Pyth._\n i. 30, viii. 21) as lying with his head and breast crushed beneath the\n weight of \u00c6tna, and his feet extending to Cum\u00e6.\n\nFootnote 158:\n\n The words point probably to an eruption, then fresh in men's memories,\n which had happened B.C. 476.\n\nFootnote 159:\n\n By some editors this speech from \u201cNo, not so,\u201d to \u201cthou know'st how,\u201d\n is assigned to Okeanos.\n\nFootnote 160:\n\n These are, of course, the Amazons, who were believed to have come\n through Thrak\u00e8 from the Tauric Chersonesos, and had left traces of\n their name and habits in the Attic traditions of Theseus.\n\nFootnote 161:\n\n Beyond the plains of Skythia, and the lake M\u00e6otis (the sea of Azov)\n there would be the great river Okeanos, which was believed to flow\n round the earth.\n\nFootnote 162:\n\n Sarmatia has been conjectured instead of Arabia. No Greek author\n sanctions the extension of the latter name to so remote a region as\n that north of the Caspian.\n\nFootnote 163:\n\n The Greek leaves the object of the sympathy undefined, but it seems\n better to refer it to that which Atlas receives from the waste of\n waters around, and the dark world beneath, than to the pity shown to\n Prometheus. This has already been dwelt on in line 421.\n\nFootnote 164:\n\n The passage that follows has for modern pal\u00e6ontologists the interest\n of coinciding with their views as to the progress of human society,\n and the condition of mankind during what has been called the \u201cStone\u201d\n period. Comp. Lucretius, v. 955-984.\n\nFootnote 165:\n\n Comp. Mr. Blakesley's note on Herod. ii. 4, as showing that here there\n was the greater risk of faulty observation.\n\nFootnote 166:\n\n Another reading gives perhaps a better sense\u2014\n\n \u201cMemory, handmaid true\n And mother of the Muses.\u201d\n\nFootnote 167:\n\n In Greece, as throughout the East, the ox was used for all\n agricultural labours, the horse by the noble and the rich, either in\n war chariots, or stately processions, or in chariot races in the great\n games.\n\nFootnote 168:\n\n Compare with this the account of the inventions of Palamedes in\n Sophocles, _Fragm._ 379.\n\nFootnote 169:\n\n Here we can recognise the knowledge of one who had studied in the\n schools of Pythagoras, or had at any rate picked up their terminology.\n A more immediate connexion may perhaps be traced with the influence of\n Epimenides, who was said to have spent many years in searching out the\n healing virtues of plants, and to have written books about them.\n\nFootnote 170:\n\n The lines that follow form almost a manual of the art of divination as\n then practised. The \u201cominous sounds\u201d include chance words, strange\n cries, any unexpected utterance that connected itself with men's fears\n for the future. The flights of birds were watched by the diviner as he\n faced the north, and so the region on the right hand was that of the\n sunrise, light, blessedness; on the left there were darkness and gloom\n and death.\n\nFootnote 171:\n\n So Io was represented, we are told, by Greek sculptors (Herod. ii.\n 41), as Isis was by those of Egypt. The points of contact between the\n myth of Io and that of Prometheus, as adopted, or perhaps developed,\n by \u00c6schylos are\u2014(1) that from her the destined deliverer of the\n chained Titan is to come; (2) that both were suffering from the\n cruelty of Zeus; (3) that the wanderings of Io gave scope for the wild\n tales of far countries on which the imagination of the Athenians fed\n greedily. But, as the _Suppliants_ may serve to show, the story itself\n had a strange fascination for him. In the birth of Epaphos, and Io's\n release from her frenzy, he saw, it may be, a reconciliation of what\n had seemed hard to reconcile, a solution of the problems of the world,\n like in kind to that which was shadowed forth in the lost _Prometheus\n Unbound_.\n\nFootnote 172:\n\n Argos had been slain by Hermes, and his eyes transferred by Hera to\n the tail of the peacock, and that bird was henceforth sacred to her.\n\nFootnote 173:\n\n Inachos the father of Io (identified with the Argive river of the same\n name), was, like all rivers, a son of Okeanos, and therefore brother\n to the nymphs who had come to see Prometheus.\n\nFootnote 174:\n\n The words used have an almost technical meaning as applied to animals\n that were consecrated to the service of a God, and set free to wander\n where they liked. The fate of Io, as at once devoted to Zeus and\n animalised in form, was thus shadowed forth in the very language of\n the Oracle.\n\nFootnote 175:\n\n Lerna was the lake near the mouth of the Inachos, close to the sea.\n Kerchneia may perhaps be identified with the Kenchre\u00e6, the haven of\n Korinth in later geographies.\n\nFootnote 176:\n\n The wicker huts used by Skythian or Thrakian nomads (the Calmucks of\n modern geographers) are described by Herodotos (iv. 46) and are still\n in use.\n\nFootnote 177:\n\n _Sc._, the N.E. boundary of the Euxine, where spurs of the Caucasos\n ridge approach the sea.\n\nFootnote 178:\n\n The Chalybes are placed by geographers to the south of Colchis. The\n description of the text indicates a locality farther to the north.\n\nFootnote 179:\n\n Probably the Araxes, which the Greeks would connect with a word\n conveying the idea of a torrent dashing on the rocks. The description\n seems to imply a river flowing into the Euxine from the Caucasos, and\n the condition is fulfilled by the Hypanis or _Kouban_.\n\nFootnote 180:\n\n When the Amazons appear in contact with Greek history, they are found\n in Thrace. But they had come from the coast of Pontos, and near the\n mouth of the Thermodon (_Thermeh_). The words of Prometheus point to\n yet earlier migrations from the East.\n\nFootnote 181:\n\n Here, as in Soph. _Antig._ (970) the name Salmydessos represents the\n rockbound, havenless coast from the promontory of Thynias to the\n entrance of the Bosporos, which had given to the Black Sea its earlier\n name of Axenos, the \u201cinhospitable.\u201d\n\nFootnote 182:\n\n The track is here in some confusion. From the Amazons south of the\n Caucasos, Io is to find her way to the Tauric Chersonese (the Crimea)\n and the Kimmerian Bosporos, which flows into the Sea of Azov, and so\n to return to Asia.\n\nFootnote 183:\n\n Here, as in a hundred other instances, a false etymology has become\n the parent of a myth. The name Bosporos is probably Asiatic not Greek,\n and has an entirely different signification.\n\nFootnote 184:\n\n The lines refer to the story that Zeus loved Thetis the daughter of\n Nereus, and followed her to Caucasos, but abstained from marriage with\n her because Prometheus warned him that the child born of that union\n should overthrow his father. Here the future is used of what was still\n contingent only. In the lost play of the Trilogy the myth was possibly\n brought to its conclusion and connected with the release of\n Prometheus.\n\nFootnote 185:\n\n Heracles, whose genealogy was traced through Alcmena, Perseus, Danae,\n Danaos and seven other names, to Epaphos and Io.\n\nFootnote 186:\n\n Probably the Kimmerian Bosporos. The Tanais or Phasis has, however,\n been conjectured.\n\nFootnote 187:\n\n The history of the passage in brackets is curious enough to call for a\n note. They are not in any extant MS., but they are found in a passage\n quoted by Galen (v. p. 454), as from the _Prometheus Bound_, and are\n inserted here by Mr. Paley.\n\nFootnote 188:\n\n Kisthene belongs to the geography of legend, lying somewhere on the\n shore of the great ocean-river in Lybia or \u00c6thiopia, at the end of the\n world, a great mountain in the far West, beyond the Hesperides, the\n dwelling-place, as here, of the Gorgons, the daughters of Phorkys.\n Those first-named are the Grai\u00e6.\n\nFootnote 189:\n\n Here, like the \u201cwing\u00e8d hound\u201d of v. 1043, for the eagles that are the\n messengers of Zeus.\n\nFootnote 190:\n\n We are carried back again from the fabled West to the fabled East. The\n Arimaspians, with one eye, and the Grypes or Gryphons (the griffins of\n medi\u00e6val heraldry), quadrupeds with the wings and beaks of eagles,\n were placed by most writers (Herod. iv. 13, 27) in the north of\n Europe, in or beyond the _terra incognita_ of Skythia. The mention of\n the \u201cford of Pluto\u201d and \u00c6thiopia, however, may possibly imply (if we\n identify it, as Mr. Paley does, with the Tartessos of Spain, or\n B\u0153tis\u2014_Guadalquivir_) that \u00c6schylos followed another legend which\n placed them in the West. There is possibly a _paronomasia_ between\n Pluto, the God of Hades, and Plutos, the ideal God of riches.\n\nFootnote 191:\n\n The name was applied by later writers (Quintus Curtius, iv. 7, 22;\n Lucretius, vi. 848) to the fountain in the temple of Jupiter Ammon in\n the great Oasis. The \u201criver \u00c6thiops\u201d may be purely imaginary, but it\n may also suggest the possibility of some vague knowledge of the Niger,\n or more probably of the Nile itself in the upper regions of its\n course. The \u201cBybline hills\u201d carry the name Byblos, which we only read\n of as belonging to a town in the Delta, to the Second Cataract.\n\nFootnote 192:\n\n Comp. Sophocles, _Trachin._, v. 1168.\n\nFootnote 193:\n\n The Adriatic or Ionian Gulf.\n\nFootnote 194:\n\n In the _Suppliants_, Zeus is said to have soothed her, and restored\n her to her human consciousness by his \u201cdivine breathings.\u201d The thought\n underlying the legend may be taken either as a distortion of some\n primitive tradition, or as one of the \u201cunconscious prophecies\u201d of\n heathenism. The deliverer is not to be born after the common manner of\n men, and is to have a divine as well as a human parentage.\n\nFootnote 195:\n\n See the argument of the _Suppliants_, who, as the daughters of Danaos,\n descended from Epaphos, are here referred to. The passage is\n noticeable as showing that the theme of that tragedy was already\n present to the poet's thoughts.\n\nFootnote 196:\n\n Argos. So in the _Suppliants_, Pelasgos is the mythical king of the\n Apian land who receives them.\n\nFootnote 197:\n\n Hypermn\u00e6stra, who spared Lynceus, and by him became the mother of Abas\n and a line of Argive kings.\n\nFootnote 198:\n\n Heracles, who came to Caucasos, and with his arrows slew the eagle\n that devoured Prometheus.\n\nFootnote 199:\n\n The word is simply an interjection of pain, but one so characteristic\n that I have thought it better to reproduce it than to give any English\n equivalent.\n\nFootnote 200:\n\n The maxim, \u201cMarry with a woman thine equal,\u201d was ascribed to Pittacos.\n\nFootnote 201:\n\n The Euhemerism of later scholiasts derived the name from a king\n Adrastos, who was said to have been the first to build a temple to\n Nemesis, and so the power thus worshipped was called after his name. A\n better etymology leads us to see in it the idea of the \u201cinevitable\u201d\n law of retribution working unseen by men, and independently even of\n the arbitrary will of the Gods, and bringing destruction upon the\n proud and haughty.\n\nFootnote 202:\n\n Comp. _Agam._ 162-6.\n\nFootnote 203:\n\n Either a mere epithet of intensity, as in our \u201cthrice blest,\u201d or\n rising from the supposed fact that every third wave was larger and\n more impetuous than the others, like _fluctus decumanus_ of the\n Latins, or from the sequence of three great waves which some have\n noted as a common phenomenon in storms.\n\nFootnote 204:\n\n Here again we have a strange shadowing forth of the mystery of\n Atonement, and what we have learnt to call \u201cvicarious\u201d satisfaction.\n In the later legend, Cheiron, suffering from the agony of his wounds,\n resigns his immortality, and submits to die in place of the\n ever-living death to which Prometheus was doomed.\n\nFootnote 205:\n\n It is noticeable that both \u00c6schylos and Sophocles have left us\n tragedies which end in a thunderstorm as an element of effect. But the\n contrast between the _Prometheus_ and the _\u0152dipus at Colonos_ as to\n the impression left in the one case of serene reconciliation, and in\n the other of violent antagonism, is hardly less striking than the\n resemblance in the outward phenomena which are common to the two.\n\n\n\n\n THE SUPPLIANTS\n\n\n DRAMATIS PERSON\u00c6\n\n DANAOS\n Herald\n PELASGOS, _king of_ Argos\n _Chorus of the daughters of_ DANAOS\n\n\n_ARGUMENT.\u2014When Io, after many wanderings, had found refuge in Egypt,\nand having been touched by Zeus, had given birth to Epaphos, it came to\npass that he and his descendants ruled over the region of Can\u00f4pos, near\none of the seven mouths of Neilos. And in the fifth generation there\nwere two brothers, Danaos and \u00c6gyptos, the sons of Belos, and the former\nhad fifty daughters and the latter fifty sons, and \u00c6gyptos sought the\ndaughters of Danaos in marriage for his sons. And they, looking on the\nmarriage as unholy, and hating those who wooed them, took flight and\ncame to Argos, where Pelasgos then ruled as king, as to the land whence\nIo, from whom they sprang, had come. And thither the sons of \u00c6gyptos\nfollowed them in hot pursuit._\n\n\n SCENE.\u2014Argos, _the entrance of the gates. Statues of_ ZEUS,\n\n ARTEMIS, _and other Gods, placed against the walls_\n\n _Enter Chorus of the_ Daughters of DANAOS,[206] _in the dress of\n Egyptian women, with the boughs of suppliants in their hands,\n and fillets of white wool twisted round them, chanting as they\n move in procession to take up their position round the thymele_\n\n Zeus, the God of Suppliants, kindly\n Look on this our band of wanderers,\n That from banks at mouths of Neilos,\n Banks of finest sand, departed![207]\n Yea, we left the region sacred,\n Grassy plain on Syria's borders,[208]\n Not for guilt of blood to exile\n By our country's edict sentenced,\n But with free choice, loathing wedlock,\n Fleeing marriage-rites unholy\n With the children of \u00c6gyptos. 10\n And our father Danaos, ruler,\n Chief of council, chief of squadrons,\n Playing moves on fortune's draught-board,[209]\n Chose what seemed the best of evils,\n Through the salt sea-waves to hasten,\n Steering to the land of Argos,\n Whence our race has risen to greatness;\n Sprung, so boasts it, from the heifer\n Whom the stinging gadfly harassed,\n By the touch of Zeus love-breathing:[210]\n And to what land more propitious\n Could we come than this before us, 20\n Holding in our hand the branches\n Suppliant, wreathed with white wool fillets?\n O State! O land! O water gleaming!\n Ye the high Gods, ye the awful,\n In the dark the graves still guarding;\n Thou too with them, Zeus Preserver,[211]\n Guardian of the just man's dwelling,\n Welcome with the breath of pity,\n Pity as from these shores wafted,\n Us poor women who are suppliants.\n And that swarm of men that follow,\n Haughty offspring of \u00c6gyptos, 30\n Ere they set their foot among you\n On this silt-strown shore,[212]\u2014oh, send them\n Seaward in their ship swift-rowing;\n There, with whirlwind tempest-driven,\n There, with lightning and with thunder,\n There, with blasts that bring the storm-rain,\n May they in the fierce sea perish,\n Ere they, cousin-brides possessing,\n Rest on marriage-beds reluctant,\n Which the voice of right denies them!\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n And now I call on him, the Zeus-sprung steer,[213] 40\n Our true protector, far beyond the sea,\n Child of the heifer-foundress of our line,\n Who cropped the flowery mead,\n Born of the breath, and named from touch of Zeus.\n *And lo! the destined time\n *Wrought fully with the name,\n And she brought forth the \u201cTouch-born,\u201d Epaphos.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n And now invoking him in grassy fields, 50\n Where erst his mother strayed, to dwellers here\n Telling the tale of all her woes of old,\n I surest pledge shall give;\n And others, strange beyond all fancy's dream,\n Shall yet perchance be found;\n And in due course of time\n Shall men know clearly all our history.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n And if some augur of the land be near,\n Hearing our piteous cry,\n Sure he will deem he hears\n The voice of Tereus' bride,[214]\n Piteous and sad of soul,\n The nightingale sore harassed by the kite. 60\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n *For she, driven back from wonted haunts and streams,[215]\n Mourns with a strange new plaint\n The home that she has lost,\n And wails her son's sad doom,\n How he at her hand died,\n Meeting with evil wrath unmotherly;\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n E'en so do I, to wailing all o'er-given,\n In plaintive music of Ionian mood,[216]\n *Vex the soft cheek on Neilos' banks that bloomed,\n And heart that bursts in tears,\n And pluck the flowers of lamentations loud,\n Not without fear of friends, 70\n *Lest none should care to help\n This flight of mine from that mist-shrouded shore.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n But, O ye Gods ancestral! hear my prayer,\n Look well upon the justice of our cause,\n Nor grant to youth to gain its full desire\n Against the laws of right,\n But with prompt hate of lust, our marriage bless.\n *Even for those who come\n As fugitives in war\n The altar serves as shield that Gods regard.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n May God good issue give![217] 80\n And yet the will of Zeus is hard to scan:\n Through all it brightly gleams,\n E'en though in darkness and the gloom of chance\n For us poor mortals wrapt.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n Safe, by no fall tripped up,\n The full-wrought deed decreed by brow of Zeus;\n For dark with shadows stretch\n The pathways of the counsels of his heart,\n And difficult to see.\n\n\n STROPHE V\n\n And from high-towering hopes He hurleth down 90\n To utter doom the heir of mortal birth;\n Yet sets He in array\n No forces violent;\n All that Gods work is effortless and calm:\n Seated on holiest throne,\n Thence, though we know not how,\n He works His perfect will.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE V\n\n Ah, let him look on frail man's wanton pride,\n With which the old stock burgeons out anew,\n By love for me constrained,\n In counsels ill and rash, 100\n And in its frenzied, passionate resolve\n Finds goad it cannot shun;\n But in deceiv\u00e8d hopes,\n Shall know, too late, its woe.\n\n\n STROPHE VI\n\n Such bitter griefs, lamenting, I recount,\n With cries shrill, tearful, deep,\n (Ah woe! ah woe!)\n That strike the ear with mourner's woe-fraught cry.\n Though yet alive, I wail mine obsequies;\n Thee, Apian sea-girt bluff,[218]\n I greet (our alien speech\n Thou knowest well, O land,) 110\n And ofttimes fall, with rendings passionate,\n On robe of linen and Sidonian veil.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VI\n\n But to the Gods, for all things prospering well,\n When death is kept aloof,\n Gifts votive come of right.\n Ah woe! Ah woe!\n Oh, troubles dark, and hard to understand!\n Ah, whither will these waters carry me?\n Thee, Apian sea-girt bluff, 120\n I greet (our alien speech\n Thou knowest well, O land,)\n And ofttimes fall, with rendings passionate,\n On robe of linen and Sidonian veil.\n\n\n STROPHE VII\n\n The oar indeed and dwelling, timber-wrought,\n With sails of canvas, 'gainst the salt sea proof\n Brought me with favouring gales,\n By stormy wind unvexed;\n Nor have I cause for murmur. Issues good\n May He, the all-seeing Father, grant, that I, 130\n Great seed of Mother dread,\n In time may 'scape, still maiden undefiled,\n My suitor's marriage-bed.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VII\n\n And with a will that meets my will may She,\n The unstained child of Zeus, on me look down,\n *Our Artemis, who guards\n The consecrated walls;\n And with all strength, though hunted down, uncaught,\n May She, the Virgin, me a virgin free, 140\n Great seed of Mother dread,\n That I may 'scape, still maiden undefiled,\n My suitor's marriage-bed.\n\n\n STROPHE VIII\n\n But if this may not be,\n We, of swarth sun-burnt race,\n Will with our suppliant branches go to him,\n Zeus, sovereign of the dead,[219]\n The Lord that welcomes all that come to him,\n Dying by twisted noose 150\n If we the grace of Gods Olympian miss.\n By thine ire, Zeus, 'gainst Io virulent,\n The Gods' wrath seeks us out,\n And I know well the woe\n Comes from thy queen who reigns in heaven victorious;\n For after stormy wind\n The tempest needs must rage.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VIII\n\n And then shall Zeus to words\n Unseemly be exposed,\n Having the heifer's offspring put to shame, 160\n Whom he himself begat,\n And now his face averting from our prayers:\n Ah, may he hear on high,\n Yea, pitying look and hear propitiously!\n By thine ire, Zeus, 'gainst Io virulent,\n The Gods' wrath seeks us out,\n And I know well the woe\n Comes from thy queen, who reigns in heaven victorious;\n For after stormy wind 170\n The tempest needs must rage.\n\n _Danaos._ My children, we need wisdom; lo! ye came\n With me, your father wise and old and true,\n As guardian of your voyage. Now ashore,\n With forethought true I bid you keep my words,\n As in a tablet-book recording them:\n I see a dust, an army's voiceless herald,\n Nor are the axles silent as they turn;\n And I descry a host that bear the shield,\n And those that hurl the javelin, marching on\n With horses and with curv\u00e8d battle-cars.\n Perchance they are the princes of this land, 180\n Come on the watch, as having news of us;\n But whether one in kindly mood, or hot\n With anger fierce, leads on this great array,\n It is, my children, best on all accounts\n To take your stand hard by this hill of Gods\n Who rule o'er conflicts.[220] Better far than towers\n Are altars, yea, a shield impenetrable.\n But with all speed approach the shrine of Zeus,\n The God of mercy, in your left hand holding\n The suppliants' boughs wool-wreathed, in solemn guise,[221]\n And greet our hosts as it is meet for us, 190\n Coming as strangers, with all duteous words\n Kindly and holy, telling them your tale\n Of this your flight, unstained by guilt of blood;\n And with your speech, let mood not overbold,\n Nor vain nor wanton, shine from modest brow\n And calm, clear eye. And be not prompt to speak,\n Nor full of words; the race that dwelleth here\n Of this is very jealous:[222] and be mindful\n Much to concede; a fugitive thou art,\n A stranger and in want, and 'tis not meet\n That those in low estate high words should speak.\n\n _Chor._ My father, to the prudent prudently 200\n Thou speakest, and my task shall be to keep\n Thy goodly precepts. Zeus, our sire, look on us!\n\n _Dan._ Yea, may He look with favourable eye!\n\n _Chor._ I fain would take my seat not far from thee.\n\n [_Chorus moves to the altar not far from_\n DANAOS\n\n _Dan._ Delay not then; success go with your plan.\n\n _Chor._ Zeus, pity us with sorrow all but crushed!\n\n _Dan._ If He be willing, all shall turn out well.\n\n _Chor._ . . . . .\n\n _Dan._ Invoke ye now the mighty bird of Zeus.[223]\n\n _Chor._ We call the sun's bright rays to succour us.\n\n _Dan._ Apollo too, the holy, in that He, 210\n A God, has tasted exile from high heaven.[224]\n\n _Chor._ Knowing that fate, He well may feel for men.\n\n _Dan._ So may He feel, and look on us benignly!\n\n _Chor._ Whom of the Gods shall I besides invoke?\n\n _Dan._ I see this trident here, a God's great symbol.[225]\n\n _Chor._ Well hath He brought us, well may He receive!\n\n _Dan._ Here too is Hermes,[226] as the Hellenes know him.\n\n _Chor._ To us, as free, let Him good herald prove.\n\n _Dan._ Yea, and the common shrine of all these Gods\n Adore ye, and in holy precincts sit,\n Like swarms of doves in fear of kites your kinsmen, 220\n Foes of our blood, polluters of our race.\n How can bird prey on bird and yet be pure?\n And how can he be pure who seeks in marriage\n Unwilling bride from father too unwilling?\n Nay, not in Hades' self, shall he, vain fool,\n Though dead, 'scape sentence, doing deeds like this;\n For there, as men relate, a second Zeus[227]\n Judges men's evil deeds, and to the dead\n Assigns their last great penalties. Look up,\n And take your station here, that this your cause\n May win its way to a victorious end.\n\n _Enter the_ KING _on his chariot, followed by_ Attendants\n\n _King._ Whence comes this crowd, this non-Hellenic band, 230\n In robes and raiment of barbaric fashion\n So gorgeously attired, whom now we speak to?\n This woman's dress is not of Argive mode,\n Nor from the climes of Hellas. How ye dared,\n Without a herald even or protector,\n Yea, and devoid of guides too, to come hither\n Thus boldly, is to me most wonderful.\n And yet these boughs, as is the suppliant's wont,\n Are set by you before the Gods of conflicts:\n By this alone will Hellas guess aright.\n Much more indeed we might have else conjectured, 240\n Were there no voice to tell me on the spot.\n\n _Chor._ Not false this speech of thine about our garb;\n But shall I greet thee as a citizen,\n Or bearing Hermes' rod, or city ruling?[228]\n\n _King._ Nay, for that matter, answer thou and speak\n Without alarm. Pal\u00e6chthon's son am I,\n Earth-born, the king of this Pelasgic land;\n And named from me, their king,[229] as well might be,\n The race Pelasgic reaps our country's fruits;\n *And all the land through which the Strymon pours 250\n Its pure, clear waters to the West I rule;\n And as the limits of my realm I mark\n The land of the Perrh\u00e6bi, and the climes\n Near the P\u00e6onians, on the farther side\n Of Pindos, and the Dodon\u00e6an heights;[230]\n And the sea's waters form its bounds. O'er all\n Within these coasts I govern; and this plain,\n The Apian land, itself has gained its name\n Long since from one who as a healer lived;[231]\n For Apis, coming from Naupactian land\n That lies beyond the straits, Apollo's son,\n Prophet and healer, frees this land of ours 260\n From man-destroying monsters, which the soil,\n Polluted with the guilt of blood of old,\n By anger of the Gods, brought forth,\u2014fierce plagues,\n The dragon-brood's dread, unblest company;\n And Apis, having for this Argive land\n Duly wrought out his saving surgery,\n Gained his reward, remembered in our prayers;\n And thou, this witness having at my hands,\n May'st tell thy race at once, and further speak;\n Yet lengthened speech our city loveth not.\n\n _Chor._ Full short and clear our tale. We boast that we\n Are Argives in descent, the children true 270\n Of the fair, fruitful heifer. And all this\n Will I by what I speak show firm and true.\n\n _King._ Nay, strangers, what ye tell is past belief\n For me to hear, that ye from Argos spring;\n For ye to Libyan women are most like,[232]\n And nowise to our native maidens here.\n Such race might Neilos breed, and Kyprian mould,\n Like yours, is stamped by skilled artificers\n On women's features; and I hear that those\n Of India travel upon camels borne, 280\n Swift as the horse, yet trained as sumpter-mules,\n E'en those who as the \u00c6thiops' neighbours dwell.\n And had ye borne the bow, I should have guessed,\n Undoubting, ye were of th' Am\u00e2zon's tribe,\n Man-hating, flesh-devouring. Taught by you,\n I might the better know how this can be,\n That your descent and birth from Argos come.\n\n _Chor._ They tell of one who bore the temple-keys\n Of Hera, Io, in this Argive land.\n\n _King._ So was't indeed, and wide the fame prevails:\n And was it said that Zeus a mortal loved? 290\n\n _Chor._ And that embrace was not from Hera hid.\n\n _King._ What end had then these strifes of sovereign Ones?\n\n _Chor._ The Argive goddess made the maid a heifer.\n\n _King._ Did Zeus that fair-horned heifer still approach?\n\n _Chor._ So say they, fashioned like a wooing steer.\n\n _King._ How acted then the mighty spouse of Zeus?\n\n _Chor._ She o'er the heifer set a guard all-seeing.\n\n _King._ What herdsman strange, all-seeing, speak'st thou of?\n\n _Chor._ Argos, the earth-born, him whom Hermes slew. 300\n\n _King._ What else then wrought she on the ill-starred heifer?\n\n _Chor._ She sent a stinging gadfly to torment her.\n [Those who near Neilos dwell an _\u00e6stros_ call it.]\n\n _King._ Did she then drive her from her country far?\n\n _Chor._ All that thou say'st agrees well with our tale.\n\n _King._ And did she to Can\u00f4bos go, and Memphis?\n\n _Chor._ Zeus with his touch, an offspring then begets.\n\n _King._ What Zeus-born calf that heifer claims as mother?\n\n _Chor._ *He from that touch which freed named Epaphos.310\n\n _King._ [_What offspring then did Epaphos beget?_][233]\n\n _Chor._ Libya, that gains her fame from greatest land.\n\n _King._ What other offspring, born of her, dost tell of?\n\n _Chor._ Sire of my sire here, Belos, with two sons.\n\n _King._ Tell me then now the name of yonder sage.\n\n _Chor._ Danaos, whose brother boasts of fifty sons.\n\n _King._ Tell me his name, too, with ungrudging speech.\n\n _Chor._ \u00c6gyptos: knowing now our ancient stock,\n Take heed thou bid thine Argive suppliants rise.\n\n _King._ Ye seem, indeed, to make your ancient claim\n To this our country good: but how came ye 320\n To leave your father's house? What chance constrained you?\n\n _Chor._ O king of the Pelasgi, manifold\n Are ills of mortals, and thou could'st not find\n The self-same form of evil anywhere.\n Who would have said that this unlooked-for flight\n Would bring to Argos race once native here,\n Driving them forth in hate of wedlock's couch?\n\n _King._ What seek'st thou then of these the Gods of conflicts,\n Holding your wool-wreathed branches newly-plucked?\n\n _Chor._ That I serve not \u00c6gyptos' sons as slave.\n\n _King._ Speak'st thou of some old feud, or breach of right? 330\n\n _Chor._ Nay, who'd find fault with master that one loved?\n\n _King._ Yet thus it is that mortals grow in strength.[234]\n\n _Chor._ True; when men fail, 'tis easy to desert them.\n\n _King._ How then to you may I act reverently?\n\n _Chor._ Yield us not up unto \u00c6gyptos' sons.\n\n _King._ Hard boon thou ask'st, to wage so strange a war.\n\n _Chor._ Nay, Justice champions those who fight with her.\n\n _King._ Yes, if her hand was in it from the first.\n\n _Chor._ Yet reverence thou the state-ship's stern thus wreathed.[235]\n\n _King._ I tremble as I see these seats thus shadowed. 340\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Dread is the wrath of Zeus, the God of suppliants:\n Son of Pal\u00e6chthon, hear;\n Hear, O Pelasgic king, with kindly heart.\n Behold me suppliant, exile, wanderer,\n *Like heifer chased by wolves\n Upon the lofty crags,\n Where, trusting in her strength,\n She lifteth up her voice\n And to the shepherd tells her tale of grief.\n\n _King._ I see, o'ershadowed with the new-plucked boughs,\n *Bent low, a band these Gods of conflict own;\n And may our dealings with these home-sprung strangers 350\n Be without peril, nor let strife arise\n To this our country for unlooked-for chance\n And unprovided! This our State wants not.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Yea, may that Law that guards the suppliant's right\n Free this our flight from harm,\n Law, sprung from Zeus, supreme Apportioner,\n But thou, [_to the King_,] though old, from me, though younger, learn:\n If thou a suppliant pity\n Thou ne'er shall penury know,\n So long as Gods receive\n Within their sacred shrines\n Gifts at the hands of worshipper unstained.\n\n _King._ It is not at my hearth ye suppliant sit;\n But if the State be as a whole defiled, 360\n Be it the people's task to work the cure.\n I cannot pledge my promise to you first\n Ere I have counselled with my citizens.[236]\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Thou art the State\u2014yea, thou the commonwealth,\n Chief lord whom none may judge;\n 'Tis thine to rule the country's altar-hearth,\n With the sole vote of thy prevailing nod;\n And thou on throne of state,\n Sole-sceptred in thy sway,\n Bringest each matter to its destined end;\n Shun thou the curse of guilt.\n\n _King._ Upon my foes rest that dread curse of guilt! 370\n Yet without harm I cannot succour you,\n Nor gives it pleasure to reject your prayers.\n In a sore strait am I; fear fills my soul\n To take the chance, to do or not to do.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Look thou on Him who looks on all from heaven,\n Guardian of suffering men\n Who, worn with toil, unto their neighbours come\n As suppliants, and receive not justice due:\n For these the wrath of Zeus,\n Zeus, the true suppliant's God,\n Abides, by wail of sufferer unappeased. 380\n\n _King._ Yet if \u00c6gyptos' sons have claim on thee\n By their State's law, asserting that they come\n As next of kin, who dare oppose their right?\n Thou must needs plead that by thy laws at home\n They over thee have no authority.[237]\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ Ah! may I ne'er be captive to the might\n Of males! Where'er the stars\n Are seen in heaven, I track my way in flight,\n As refuge from a marriage that I hate.\n But thou, make Right thy friend,\n And honour what the Gods count pure and true. 390\n\n _King._ Hard is the judgment: choose not me as judge.\n But, as I said before, I may not act\n Without the people, sovereign though I be,\n Lest the crowd say, should aught fall out amiss,\n \u201cIn honouring strangers, thou the State did'st ruin.\u201d\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ Zeus, the great God of kindred, in these things\n Watches o'er both of us,\n Holding an equal scale, and fitly giving\n To the base evil, to the righteous blessing.\n Why, when these things are set\n In even balance, fear'st thou to do right? 400\n\n _King._ Deep thought we need that brings deliverance,\n That, like a diver, mine eye too may plunge\n Clear-seeing to the depths, not wine-bedrenched,\n That these things may be harmless to the State,\n And to ourselves may issue favourably:\n That neither may the strife make you its prey,\n Nor that we give you up, who thus are set\n Near holy seat of Gods, and so bring in\n To dwell with us the Avenger terrible,\n God that destroyeth, who not e'en in Hades 410\n Gives freedom to the dead. Say, think ye not\n That there is need of counsel strong to save?\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Take heed to it, and be\n Friend to the stranger wholly faithful found;\n Desert not thou the poor,\n Driven from afar by godless violence.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n See me not dragged away,\n O thou that rul'st the land! from seat of Gods:\n Know thou men's wanton pride, 420\n And guard thyself against the wrath of Zeus.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Endure not thou to see thy suppliant,\n Despite of law, torn off,\n As horses by their frontlets, from the forms\n Of sculptured deities,\n Nor yet the outrage of their wanton hands,\n Seizing these broidered robes.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n For know thou well, whichever course thou take,\n Thy sons and all thy house\n *Must pay in war the debt that Justice claims,\n Proportionate in kind. 430\n Lay well to heart these edicts, wise and true,\n Given by great Zeus himself.\n\n _King._ Well then have I thought o'er it. To this point\n Our ship's course drives. Fierce war we needs must risk\n Either with these (_pointing to the Gods_) or those. Set fast and firm\n Is this as is the ship tight wedged in stocks;\n And without trouble there's no issue out.\n For wealth indeed, were our homes spoiled of that,\n There might come other, thanks to Zeus the Giver,\n More than the loss, and filling up the freight; 440\n And if the tongue should aim its adverse darts,\n Baleful and over-stimulant of wrath,\n There might be words those words to heal and soothe.\n But how to blot the guilt of kindred blood,\n This needs a great atonement\u2014many victims\n Falling to many Gods\u2014to heal the woe.\n *I take my part, and turn aside from strife;\n And I far rather would be ignorant\n Than wise, forecasting evil. May the end,\n Against my judgment, show itself as good!\n\n _Chor._ Hear, then, the last of all our pleas for pity.\n\n _King._ I hear; speak on. It shall not 'scape my heed. 450\n\n _Chor._ Girdles I have, and zones that bind my robes.\n\n _King._ Such things are fitting for a woman's state.\n\n _Chor._ With these then, know, as good and rare device....\n\n _King._ Nay, speak. What word is this thou'lt utter now?\n\n _Chor._ Unless thou giv'st our band thy plighted word....\n\n _King._ What wilt thou do with this device of girdles?\n\n _Chor._ With tablets new these sculptures we'll adorn.\n\n _King._ Thou speak'st a riddle. Make thy meaning plain.\n\n _Chor._ Upon these Gods we'll hang ourselves at once.\n\n _King._ I hear a word which pierces to the heart. 460\n\n _Chor._ Thou see'st our meaning. Eyes full clear I've given.\n\n _King._ Lo then! in many ways sore troubles come.\n A host of evils rushes like a flood;\n A sea of woe none traverse, fathomless,\n This have I entered; haven there is none.\n For if I fail to do this work for you,\n Thou tellest of defilement unsurpassed;[238]\n And if for thee against \u00c6gyptos' sons,\n Thy kindred, I before my city's walls\n In conflict stand, how can there fail to be\n A bitter loss, to stain the earth with blood 470\n Of man for woman's sake? And yet I needs\n Must fear the wrath of Zeus, the suppliant's God;\n That dread is mightiest with the sons of men.\n Thou, then, O aged father of these maidens!\n Taking forthwith these branches in thine arms,\n Lay them on other altars of the Gods\n Our country worships, that the citizens\n May all behold this token of thy coming,\n And about me let no rash speech be dropped;\n For 'tis a people prompt to blame their rulers.\n And then perchance some one beholding them, 480\n And pitying, may wax wrathful 'gainst the outrage\n Of that male troop, and with more kindly will\n The people look on you; for evermore\n Men all wish well unto the weaker side.\n\n _Dan._ This boon is counted by us of great price,\n To find a patron proved so merciful.\n And thou, send with us guides to lead us on,\n And tell us how before their shrines to find\n The altars of the Gods that guard the State,\n *And holy places columned round about;\n And safety for us, as the town we traverse.\n Not of like fashion is our features' stamp; 490\n For Neilos rears not race like Inachos.[239]\n Take heed lest rashness lead to bloodshed here;\n Ere now, unknowing, men have slain their friends.\n\n _King_ (_to Attendants_). Go then, my men; full well the stranger\n speaks;\n And lead him where the city's altars stand,\n The seats of Gods; and see ye talk not much\n To passers-by as ye this traveller lead,\n A suppliant at the altar-hearth of Gods.\n\n [_Exeunt_ DANAOS _and Attendants_\n\n _Chor._ Thou speak'st to him; and may he go as bidden!\n But what shall I do? What hope giv'st thou me?\n\n _King._ Leave here those boughs, the token of your grief. 500\n\n _Chor._ Lo! here I leave them at thy beck and word.\n\n _King._ Now turn thy steps towards this open lawn.\n\n _Chor._ What shelter gives a lawn unconsecrate?[240]\n\n _King._ We will not yield thee up to birds of prey.\n\n _Chor._ Nay, but to foes far worse than fiercest dragons.\n\n _King._ Good words should come from those who good have heard.\n\n _Chor._ No wonder they wax hot whom fear enthrals.\n\n _King._ But dread is still for rulers all unmeet.\n\n _Chor._ Do thou then cheer our soul by words and deeds.\n\n _King._ Nay, no long time thy sire will leave thee lorn; 510\n And I, all people of the land convening,\n Will the great mass persuade to kindly words;\n And I will teach thy father what to say.\n Wherefore remain and ask our country's Gods,\n With suppliant prayers, to grant thy soul's desire,\n And I will go in furtherance of thy wish:\n Sweet Suasion follow us, and Fortune good! [_Exit_\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ O King of kings! and blest\n Above all blessed ones,\n And Power most mighty of the mightiest!\n O Zeus, of high estate! 520\n Hear thou and grant our prayer!\n Drive thou far off the wantonness of men,\n The pride thou hatest sore,\n And in the pool of darkling purple hue\n Plunge thou the woe that comes in swarthy barque.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n Look on the women's cause;\n Recall the ancient tale,\n Of one whom Thou did'st love in time of old,\n The mother of our race:\n Remember it, O Thou\n Who did'st on Io lay thy mystic touch.\n We boast that we are come\n Of consecrated land the habitants, 530\n And from this land by lineage high descended.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Now to the ancient track,\n Our mother's, I have passed,\n The flowery meadow-land where she was watched,\u2014\n The pastures of the herd,\n Whence Io, by the stinging gadfly driven,\n Flees, of her sense bereft,\n Passing through many tribes of mortal men;\n And then by Fate's decree\n Crossing the billowy straits,\n On either side she leaves a continent.[241] 540\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n Now through the Asian land\n She hastens o'er and o'er,\n Right through the Phrygian fields where feed the flocks;\n And passes Teuthras' fort,\n Owned by the Mysians,[242] and the Lydian plains;\n And o'er Kilikian hills,\n And those of far Pamphylia rushing on,\n By ever-flowing streams,\n On to the deep, rich lands,\n And Aphrodite's home in wheat o'erflowing.[243]\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And so she cometh, as that herdsman winged 550\n Pierces with sharpest sting,\n To holy plain all forms of life sustaining,\n Fields that are fed from snows,[244]\n Which Typhon's monstrous strength has traversed,[245]\n And unto Neilos' streams,\n By sickly taint untouched,[246]\n Still maddened with her toil of ignominy,\n By torturing stings driven on, great Hera's frenzied slave.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And those who then the lands inhabited,\n Quivered with pallid fear, 560\n That filled their soul at that unwonted marvel,\n Seeing that monstrous shape,\n The human joined with brute,\n Half heifer, and half form of woman fair:[247]\n And sore amazed were they.\n Who was it then that soothed\n Poor Io, wandering in her sore affright,\n Driven on, and ever on, by gadfly's maddening sting?\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n Zeus, Lord of endless time\n [Was seen All-working then;]\n He, even He, for by his sovereign might\n That works no ill, was she from evil freed; 570\n And by his breath divine\n She findeth rest, and weeps in floods of tears\n Her sorrowing shame away;\n And with new burden big,\n Not falsely 'Zeus-born' named,\n She bare a son that grew in faultless growth,\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n Prosperous through long, long years;\n And so the whole land shouts with one accord,\n \u201cLo, a race sprung from him, the Lord of life,\n In very deed, Zeus-born! 580\n Who else had checked the plagues that Hera sent?\u201d\n This is the work of Zeus:\n And speaking of our race\n That sprang from Epaphos\n As such, thou would'st not fail to hit the mark.\n\n\n STROPHE V\n\n Which of the Gods could I with right invoke\n As doing juster deeds?\n He is our Father, author of our life,\n The King whose right hand worketh all his will,\n Our line's great author, in his counsels deep\n Recording things of old,\n Directing all his plans, the great work-master, Zeus.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE V\n\n For not as subject hastening at the beck\n Of strength above his own,[248]\n Reigns He subordinate to mightier powers; 590\n Nor does He pay his homage from below,\n While One sits throned in majesty above;[249]\n Act is for him as speech,\n To hasten what his teeming mind resolves.\n\n _Re-enter_ DANAOS\n\n _Dan._ Be of good cheer, my children. All goes well\n With those who dwell here, and the people's voice\n Hath passed decrees full, firm, irrevocable.\n\n _Chor._ Hail, aged sire, that tell'st me right good news!\n But say with what intent the vote hath passed,\n And on which side the people's hands prevail.\n\n _Dan._ The Argives have decreed without division,\n So that my aged mind grew young again; 600\n For in full congress, with their right hands raised\n Rustled the air as they decreed their vote\n That we should sojourn in their land as free,\n Free from arrest, and with asylum rights;\n And that no native here nor foreigner\n Should lead us off; and, should he venture force,\n That every citizen who gave not help\n Dishonoured should be driven to exile forth.\n Such counsel giving, the Pelasgian King 610\n Gained their consent, proclaiming that great wrath\n Of Zeus the God of suppliants ne'er would let\n The city wax in fatness,\u2014warning them\n That double guilt[250] upon the State would come,\n Touching at once both guests and citizens,\n The food and sustenance of sore disease\n That none could heal. And then the Argive host,\n Hearing these things, decreed by show of hands,\n Not waiting for the herald's proclamation,\n So it should be. They heard, indeed, the crowd\n Of those Pelasgi, all the winning speech,\n The well-turned phrases cunning to persuade;\n But it was Zeus that brought the end to pass.\n\n _Chor._ Come then, come, let us speak for Argives\n Prayers that are good for good deeds done; 620\n Zeus, who o'er all strangers watches,\n May He regard with his praise and favour\n The praise that comes from the lips of strangers,\n *And guide in all to a faultless issue.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Half-Chor. A._ Now, now, at last, ye Gods of Zeus begotten,[251]\n Hear, as I pour my prayers upon their race,\n That ne'er may this Pelasgic city raise\n From out its flames the joyless cry of War,\n War, that in other fields\n Reapeth his human crop:\n For they have mercy shown,\n And passed their kind decree, 630\n Pitying this piteous flock, the suppliants of great Zeus.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n They did not take their stand with men 'gainst women\n Casting dishonour on their plea for help,\n *But looked to Him who sees and works from heaven,\n *Full hard to war with. Yea, what house could bear\n To see Him on its roof\n Casting pollution there?[252]\n Sore vexing there he sits.\n Yes, they their kin revere,\n Suppliants of holiest Zeus; 640\n Therefore with altars pure shall they the Gods delight.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Therefore from faces by our boughs o'ershadowed[253]\n Let prayers ascend in emulous eagerness:\n Ne'er may dark pestilence\n This State of men bereave;\n May no fierce party strife\n Pollute these plains with native carcases;\n And may the bloom of youth\n Be with them still uncropt;\n And ne'er may Aphrodite's paramour, 650\n Ares the scourge of men,\n Mow down their blossoms fair!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n And let the altars tended by the old\n *Blaze with the gifts of men with hoary hairs;\n So may the State live on\n In full prosperity!\n Let them great Zeus adore,\n The strangers' God, the one Supreme on high,\n By venerable law\n Ordering the course of fate.\n And next we pray that ever more and more\n Earth may her tribute bear,\n And Artemis as Hecate preside[254]\n O'er woman's travail-pangs. 660\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n Let no destroying strife come on, invading\n This city to lay waste,\n Setting in fierce array\n War, with its fruit of tears,\n Lyreless and danceless all,\n And cry of people's wrath;\n And may the swarm of plagues,\n Loathly and foul to see,\n Abide far off from these our citizens,\n And that Lykeian king, may He be found\n Benignant to our youth![255]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And Zeus, may He, by his supreme decree, 670\n Make the earth yield her fruits\n Through all the seasons round,\n And grant a plenteous brood\n Of herds that roam the fields!\n May Heaven all good gifts pour,\n And may the voice of song\n Ascend o'er altar shrines,\n Unmarred by sounds of ill!\n And let the voice that loves with lyre to blend\n Go forth from lips of blameless holiness,\n In accents of great joy!\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n *And may the rule in which the people share\n Keep the State's functions as in perfect peace,\n E'en that which sways the crowd,\n *Which sways the commonwealth, 680\n By counsels wise and good;\n And to the strangers and the sojourners\n May they grant rights that rest on compacts sure,\n Ere War is roused to arms,\n So that no trouble come!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n And the great Gods who o'er this country watch,\n May they adore them in the land They guard,\n With rites of sacrifice,\n And troops with laurel boughs,\n As did our sires of old!\n For thus to honour those who gave us life,\n This stands as one of three great laws on high,[256]\n Written as fixed and firm,\n The laws of Right revered.\n\n _Dan._ I praise these seemly prayers, dear children mine. 690\n But fear ye not, if I your father speak\n Words that are new, and all unlooked-for by you;\n For from this station to the suppliant given\n I see the ship; too clear to be mistaken\n The swelling sails, the bulwark's coverings,\n And prow with eyes that scan the onward way,[257]\n But too obedient to the steerman's helm,\n Being, as it is, unfriendly. And the men\n Who sail in her with swarthy limbs are seen,\n In raiment white conspicuous. And I see 700\n Full clear the other ships that come to help;\n And this as leader, putting in to shore,\n Furling its sails, is rowed with equal stroke.\n 'Tis yours, with mood of calm and steadfast soul,\n To face the fact, and not to slight the Gods.\n And I will come with friends and advocates;\n For herald, it may be, or embassy,\n May come, and wish to seize and bear you off,\n Grasping their prey. But nought of this shall be;\n Fear ye not them. It were well done, however,\n If we should linger in our help, this succour 710\n In no wise to forget. Take courage then;\n In their own time and at the appointed day,\n Whoever slights the Gods shall pay for it.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ I fear, my father, since the swift-winged ships\n Are come, and very short the time that's left.\n A shuddering anguish makes me sore afraid,\n Lest small the profit of my wandering flight.\n I faint, my sire, for fear.\n\n _Dan._ My children, since the Argives' vote is passed,\n Take courage: they will fight for thee, I know. 720\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Hateful and wanton are \u00c6gyptos' sons,\n Insatiable of conflict, and I speak\n To one who knows them. They in timbered ships,\n Dark-eyed, have sailed in wrath that hits its mark,\n With great and swarthy host.\n\n _Dan._ Yet many they shall find whose arms are tanned\n In the full scorching of the noontide heat.[258]\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Leave me not here alone, I pray thee, father!\n Alone, a woman is as nought, and war\n Is not for her. Of over-subtle mind,\n And subtle counsel in their souls impure, 730\n Like ravens, e'en for altars caring not,\u2014\n Such, such in soul are they.\n\n _Dan._ That would work well indeed for us, my children,\n Should they be foes to Gods as unto thee.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ No reverence for these tridents or the shrines\n Of Gods, my father, will restrain their hands:\n Full stout of heart, of godless mood unblest,\n Fed to the full, and petulant as dogs,\n And for the voice of high Gods caring not,\u2014\n Such, such in soul are they.\n\n _Dan._ Nay, the tale runs that wolves prevail o'er dogs; 740\n And byblos fruit excels not ear of corn.[259]\n\n _Chor._ But since their minds are as the minds of brutes,\n Restless and vain, we must beware of force.\n\n _Dan._ Not rapid is the getting under weigh\n Of naval squadron, nor their anchoring,\n Nor the safe putting into shore with cables.\n Nor have the shepherds of swift ships quick trust\n In anchor-fastenings, most of all, as now,\n When coming to a country havenless;\n And when the sun has yielded to the night,\n That night brings travail to a pilot wise, 750\n [Though it be calm and all the waves sleep still;]\n So neither can this army disembark\n Before the ship is safe in anchorage.\n And thou beware lest in thy panic fear\n Thou slight the Gods whom thou hast called to help.\n The city will not blame your messenger,\n Old though he be, being young in clear-voiced thought. _Exit_\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Ah, me! thou land of jutting promontory\n Which justly all revere,\n What lies before us? Where in Apian land\n Shall we a refuge find,\n If still there be dark hiding anywhere?\n Ah! that I were as smoke\n That riseth full and black\n Nigh to the clouds of Zeus, 760\n Or soaring up on high invisible,\n Like dust that vanishes,\n Pass out of being with no help from wings!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n *E'en so the ill admits not now of flight;\n My heart in dark gloom throbs;\n My father's work as watcher brings me low;\n I faint for very fear,\n And I would fain find noose that bringeth death,\n In twisted cordage hung,\n Before the man I loathe\n Draws near this flesh of mine: 770\n Sooner than that may Hades rule o'er me\n Sleeping the sleep of death!\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Ah, might I find a place in yon high vault,\n Where the rain-clouds are passing into snow,\n Or lonely precipice\n Whose summit none can see,\n Rock where the vulture haunts,\n Witness for me of my abysmal fall,\n Before the marriage that will pierce my heart\n Becomes my dreaded doom!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n I shrink not from the thought of being the prey 780\n Of dogs and birds that haunt the country round;\n For death shall make me free\n From ills all lamentable:\n Yea, let death rather come\n Than the worse doom of hated marriage-bed!\n What other refuge now remains for me\n That marriage to avert?\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n Yea, to the Gods raise thou\n Cloud-piercing, wailing cry\n Of songs and litanies,\n Prevailing, working freedom out for me: 790\n And thou, O Father, look,\n Look down upon the strife,\n With glance of wrath against our enemies\n From eyes that see the right;\n With pity look on us thy suppliants,\n O Lord of Earth, O Zeus omnipotent!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n For lo! \u00c6gyptos' house,\n In pride intolerable,\n O'er-masculine in mood,\n Pursuing me in many a winding course,\n Poor wandering fugitive,\n With loud and wild desires,\n Seek in their frenzied violence to seize: 800\n But thine is evermore\n The force that turns the balance of the scale:\n What comes to mortal men apart from Thee?\n\n Ah! ah! ah! ah!\n *Here on the land behold the ravisher\n Who comes on us by sea!\n *Ah, may'st thou perish, ravisher, ere thou\n Hast stopped or landed here!\n *I utter cry of wailing loud and long,\n *I see them work the prelude of their crimes,\n Their crimes of violence.\n Ah! ah! Ah me! 810\n Haste in your flight for help!\n The mighty ones are waxing fat and proud,\n By sea and land alike intolerable.\n Be thou, O King, our bulwark and defence!\n\n _Enter_ Herald _of the sons of_ \u00c6GYPTOS, _advancing to\n the daughters of_ DANAOS\n\n _Her._ Haste, haste with all your speed unto the barque.\n\n _Chor._ Tearing of hair, yea, tearing now will come,\n And print of nails in flesh,\n And smiting off of heads,\n With murderous stream of blood.\n\n _Her._ Haste, haste ye, to that barque that yonder lies, 820\n Ye wretches, curse on you.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Would thou had'st met thy death\n Where the salt waves wildly surge,\n Thou with thy lordly pride,\n In nail-compacted ship:\n *Lo! they will smite thee, weltering in thy blood,\n *And drive thee to thy barque.\n\n _Her._ I bid you cease perforce, the cravings wild\n Of mind to madness given.\n Ho there! what ho! I say; 830\n Give up those seats, and hasten to the ship:\n I reverence not what this State honoureth.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Ah, I may ne'er again\n Behold the stream where graze the goodly kine,\n Nourished and fed by which[260]\n The blood of cattle waxes strong and full!\n *As with a native's right,\n *And one of old descent,\n I keep, old man, my seat, my seat, I say.\n\n _Her._ Nay, in a ship, a ship them shalt soon go, 840\n With or without thy will,\n By force, I say, by force:\n Come, come, provoke not evils terrible,\n Falling by these my hands.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Ah me! ah me!\n Would thou may'st perish with no hand to help,\n Crossing the sea's wide plain,\n In wanderings far and wide,\n Where Sarpedonian sand-bank[261] spreads its length,\n Driven by the sweeping blasts!\n\n _Her._ Sob thou, and howl, and call upon the Gods: 850\n Thou shalt not 'scape that barque from \u00c6gypt come,\n Though thou should'st pour a bitterer strain of grief.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Woe! woe! Ah woe! ah woe,\n For this foul wrong! Thou utterest fearful things;\n *Thou art too bold and insolent of speech.\n *May mighty Nile that reared thee turn away\n Thy wanton pride and lust\n That we behold it not!\n\n _Her._ I bid you go to yon ship double-prowed,[262]\n With all your speed. Let no one lag behind;\n But little shall my grasp your ringlets spare. 860\n\n [_Seizes on the leader of the Suppliants_\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ Ah me! my father, ah!\n The help of holiest statues turns to woe;\n He leads me to the sea,\n With motion spider-like,\n Or like a dream, a dark and dismal dream,\n Ah woe! ah woe! ah woe!\n O mother Earth! O Earth! O mother mine!\n Avert that cry of fear,\n O Zeus, thou king! O son of mother Earth!\n\n _Her._ Nay, I fear not the Gods they worship here;\n They did not rear nor lead me up to age. 870\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ Near me he rages now,\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n That biped snake,\n And like a viper bites me by the foot.\n Oh, woe is me! woe! woe!\n O mother Earth! O Earth! O mother mine!\n Avert that cry of fear,\n O Zeus, thou king! O son of mother Earth!\n\n _Her._ If some one yield not, and to yon ship go,\n The hand that tears her tunic will not pity.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n _Chor._ Ho! rulers of the State! 880\n Ye princes! I am seized.\n\n _Her._ It seems, since ye are slow to hear my words,\n That I shall have to drag you by the hair.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n _Chor._ We are undone, undone!\n We suffer, prince, unlooked-for outrages,\n\n _Her._ Full many princes, heirs of great \u00c6gyptos,\n Ye soon shall see. Take courage; ye shall have\n No cause to speak of anarchy as there.\n\n _Enter_ KING _followed by his_ Bodyguard\n\n _King._ Ho there! What dost thou? and with what intent\n Dost thou so outrage this Pelasgic land?\n Dost think thou comest to a town of women? 890\n Too haughty thou, a stranger 'gainst Hellenes,\n And, sinning much, hast nothing done aright.\n\n _Her._ What sin against the right have I then done?\n\n _King._ First, thou know'st not how stranger-guest should act.\n\n _Her._ How so? When I, but finding what I lost....\n\n _King._ Whom among us dost thou then patrons call?\n\n _Her._ Hermes the Searcher, chiefest patron mine.[263]\n\n _King._ Thou, Gods invoking, honourest not the Gods.\n\n _Her._ The Gods of Neilos are the Gods I worship.\n\n _King._ Ours then are nought, if I thy meaning catch. 900\n\n _Her._ These girls I'll lead, if no one rescues them.\n\n _King._ Lay hand on them, and soon thou'lt pay the cost.\n\n _Her._ I hear a word in no wise hospitable.\n\n _King._ Who rob the Gods I welcome not as guests.\n\n _Her._ I then will tell \u00c6gyptos' children this.\n\n _King._ This threat is all unheeded in my mind.\n\n _Her._ But that I, knowing all, may speak it plain,\n (For it is meet a herald should declare\n Each matter clearly,) what am I to say?\n By whom have I been robbed of that fair band\n Of women whom I claim as kindred? Nay, 910\n But it is Ares that shall try this cause,\n And not with witnesses, nor money down,\n Settling the matter, but there first must fall\n Full many a soldier, and of many a life\n The rending in convulsive agony.\n\n _King._ Why should I tell my name? In time thou'lt know it,\n Thou and thy fellow-travellers. But these maidens,\n With their consent and free choice of their wills,\n Thou may'st lead off, if godly speech persuade them:\n But this decree our city's men have made\n With one consent, that we to force yield not\n This company of women. Here the nail 920\n Is driven tight home to keep its place full firm;[264]\n These things are written not on tablets only,\n [Nor signed and sealed in folds of byblos-rolls;]\n Thou hear'st them clearly from a tongue that speaks\n With full, free speech. Away, away, I say:\n And with all speed from out my presence haste.\n\n _Her._ It is thy will then a rash war to wage:\n May strength and victory on our males attend!\n\n [_Exit_\n\n _King._ Nay, thou shall find the dwellers of this land\n Are also males, and drink not draughts of ale 930\n From barley brewed.[265] [_To the Suppliants._] But ye, and your\n attendants,\n Take courage, go within the fenc\u00e8d city,\n Shut in behind its bulwark deep of towers;\n Yea, many houses to the State belong,\n And I a palace own not meanly built,\n If ye prefer to live with many others\n In ease and plenty: or if that suits better,\n Ye may inhabit separate abodes.\n Of these two offers that which pleases best\n Choose for yourselves, and I as your protector, 940\n And all our townsmen, will defend the pledge\n Which our decree has given you. Why wait'st thou\n For any better authorised than these?\n\n _Chor._ For these thy good deeds done may'st thou in good,\n All good, abound, great chief of the Pelasgi!\n But kindly send to us\n Our father Danaos, brave and true of heart,\n To counsel and direct.\n His must the first decision be where we\n Should dwell, and where to find\n A kindly home; for ready is each one\n To speak his word of blame 'gainst foreigners. 950\n But may all good be ours!\n And so with fair repute and speech of men,\n Free from all taint of wrath,\n So place yourselves, dear handmaids, in the land,\n As Danaos hath for each of us assigned\n Dowry of handmaid slaves.\n\n _Enter_ DANAOS _followed by_ Soldiers\n\n _Dan._ My children, to the Argives ye should pray,\n And sacrifice, and full libations pour,\n As to Olympian Gods, for they have proved,\n With one consent, deliverers: and they heard\n *All that I did towards those cousins there, 960\n *Those lovers hot and bitter. And they gave\n To me as followers these that bear the spear,\n That I might have my meed of honour due,\n And might not die by an assassin's hand\n A death unlooked-for, and thus leave the land\n A weight of guilt perpetual: and 'tis fit\n That one who meets such kindness should return,\n *From his heart's depths, a nobler gratitude;\n And add ye this to all already written,\n Your father's many maxims of true wisdom,\n That we, though strangers, may in time be known; 970\n For as to aliens each man's tongue is apt\n For evil, and spreads slander thoughtlessly;\n But ye, I charge you, see ye shame me not,\n With this your life's bloom drawing all men's eyes.\n The goodly vintage is full hard to watch,\n All men and beasts make fearful havoc of it,\n Nay, birds that fly, and creeping things of earth;\n And Kypris offers fruitage, dropping ripe,\n *As prey to wandering lust, nor lets it stay;[266]\n And on the goodly comeliness of maidens 980\n Each passer-by, o'ercome with hot desire,\n Darts forth the amorous arrows of the eye.\n And therefore let us suffer nought of this,\n Through which our ship has ploughed such width of sea,\n Such width of trouble; neither let us work\n Shame to ourselves, and pleasure to our foes.\n This twofold choice of home is open to you:\n [Pelasgos offers his, the city theirs,]\n To dwell rent-free. Full easy terms are these:\n Only, I charge you, keep your father's precepts,\n Prizing as more than life your chastity. 990\n\n _Chor._ May the high Gods that on Olympos dwell\n Bless us in all things; but for this our vintage\n Be of good cheer, my father; for unless\n The counsels of the Gods work strange device,\n I will not leave my spirit's former path.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Semi-Chor. A_. Go then and make ye glad the high Gods, blessed for\n ever,\n Those who rule our towns, and those who watch over our city,\n And they who dwell by the stream of Erasinos ancient.[267]\n\n _Semi-Chor. B_. And ye, companions true,\n Take up your strain of song. 1000\n Let praise attend this city of Pelasgos;\n Let us no more, no more adore the mouths of Neilos\n With these our hymns of praise;\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Semi-Chor. A_. Nay, but the rivers here that pour calm streams through\n our country,[268]\n Parents of many a son, making glad the soil of our meadows,\n With wide flood rolling on, in full and abounding richness.\n\n _Semi-Chor. B_. And Artemis the chaste,\n May she behold our band 1010\n With pity; ne'er be marriage rites enforc\u00e8d\n On us by Kythereia: those who hate us,\n Let that ill prize be theirs.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Semi-Chor. A_. Not that our kindly strain does slight to Kypris\n immortal;\n For she, together with Hera, as nearest to Zeus is mighty,\n A goddess of subtle thoughts, she is honoured in mysteries solemn.\n\n _Semi-Chor. B_. Yea, as associates too with that their mother\n belov\u00e8d,1020\n Are fair Desire and Suasion,[269] whose pleading no man can gainsay,\n Yea, to sweet Concord too Aphrodite's power is entrusted,\n *And the whispering paths of the Loves.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Semi-Chor. A_. Yet am I sore afraid of the ship that chases us\n wanderers,\n Of terrible sorrows, and wars that are bloody and hateful;\n *Why else have they had fair gale for this their eager pursuing?1030\n\n _Semi-Chor. B_. Whate'er is decreed of us, I know that it needs must\n happen;\n The mighty purpose of Zeus, unfailing, admits no transgression:\n *May this fate come to us, as to many women before us,\n *Fate of marriage and spouse!\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n _Semi-Chor. A_. Ah, may great Zeus avert\n From me all marriage with \u00c6gyptos' sons!\n\n _Semi-Chor. B_. Nay, all will work for good.\n\n _Semi-Chor. A_. Thou glozest that which will no glozing bear.1040\n\n _Semi-Chor. B_. And thou know'st not what future comes to us.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n _Semi-Chor. A_. How can I read the mind\n Of mightiest Zeus, to sight all fathomless?\n\n _Semi-Chor. B_. Well-tempered be thy speech!\n\n _Semi-Chor. A_. What mood of calmnesss wilt thou school me in?\n\n _Semi-Chor. B_. Be not o'er-rash in what concerns the Gods.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n _Semi-Chor. A_. Nay, may our great king Zeus avert that marriage\n With husbands whom we hate,\n E'en He who, touching her with healing hand,\n Freed Io from her pain,\n Putting an end from all her wanderings,\n Working with kindly force! 1050\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n _Semi-Chor. B_. And may He give the victory to women!\n I choose the better part,\n Though mixed with ill; and that the trial end\n Justly, as I have prayed,\n By means of subtle counsels which God gives\n To liberate from ills.[270]\n\n\n\n\n \u00c6SCHYLOS\n\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 206:\n\n The daughters of Danaos are always represented as fifty in number. It\n seems probable, however, that the vocal chorus was limited to twelve,\n the others appearing as mutes.\n\nFootnote 207:\n\n The alluvial deposit of the Delta.\n\nFootnote 208:\n\n Syria is used obviously with a certain geographical vagueness, as\n including all that we know as Palestine, and the wilderness to the\n south of it, and so as conterminous with Egypt.\n\nFootnote 209:\n\n Elsewhere in \u00c6schylos (_Agam._ 33, _Fr._ 132) we trace allusion to\n games played with dice. Here we have a reference to one, the details\n of which are not accurately known to us, but which seems to have been\n analogous to draughts or chess.\n\nFootnote 210:\n\n See the whole story, given as in prophecy, in the _Prometheus_, v.\n 865-880.\n\nFootnote 211:\n\n The invocation is addressed\u2014(1) to the Olympian Gods in the brightness\n of heaven; (2) to the Chthonian deities in the darkness below the\n earth; (3) to Zeus, the preserver, as the supreme Lord of both.\n\nFootnote 212:\n\n An Athenian audience would probably recognise in this a description of\n the swampy meadows near the coast of Lerna. The descendants of Io had\n come to the very spot where the tragic history of their ancestors had\n had its origin.\n\nFootnote 213:\n\n The invocation passes on to Epaphos, as a guardian deity able and\n willing to succour his afflicted children.\n\nFootnote 214:\n\n Philomela. See the tale as given in the notes to _Agam._ 1113.\n\nFootnote 215:\n\n \u201cStreams,\u201d as flowing through the shady solitude of the groves which\n the nightingale frequented.\n\nFootnote 216:\n\n \u201cIonian,\u201d as soft and elegiac, in contrast with the more military\n character of Dorian music.\n\nFootnote 217:\n\n In the Greek the _paronomasia_ turns upon the supposed etymological\n connection between \u03b8\u03b5\u1f78\u03c2 and \u03c4\u03b9\u03b8\u03ae\u03bc\u03b9. I have here, as elsewhere,\n attempted an analogous rather than identical _jeu de mot_.\n\nFootnote 218:\n\n The Greek word which I have translated \u201cbluff\u201d was one not familiar to\n Attic ears, and was believed to be of Kyrenean origin. \u00c6schylos\n accordingly puts it into the lips of the daughters of Danaos, as\n characteristic more or less of the \u201calien speech\u201d of the land from\n which they came.\n\nFootnote 219:\n\n So in v. 235 Danaos speaks of the \u201csecond Zeus\u201d who sits as Judge in\n Hades. The feeling to which the Chorus gives utterance is that of\u2014\n\n \u201cFlectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.\u201d\n\nFootnote 220:\n\n Some mound dedicated to the Gods, with one or more altars and statues\n of the Gods on it, is on the stage, and the suppliants are told to\n take up their places there. The Gods of conflict who are named below,\n Zeus, Apollo, Poseidon, presided generally over the three great games\n of Greece. Hermes is added to the list.\n\nFootnote 221:\n\n Comp. _Libation-Pourers_, 1024, _Eumen._ 44.\n\nFootnote 222:\n\n The Argives are supposed to share the love of brevity which we\n commonly connect with their neighbours the Laconians.\n\nFootnote 223:\n\n The \u201cmighty bird of Zeus\u201d seems here, from the answer of the Chorus,\n to mean not the \u201ceagle\u201d but the \u201csun,\u201d which roused men from their\n sleep as the cock did, so that \u201ccockcrow\u201d and \u201csunrise\u201d were\n synonymous. It is, in any case, striking that Zeus, rather than\n Apollo, appears as the Sun-God.\n\nFootnote 224:\n\n The words refer to the myth of Apollo's banishment from heaven and\n servitude under Admetos.\n\nFootnote 225:\n\n In the Acropolis at Athens the impress of a trident was seen on the\n rock, and was believed to commemorate the time when Poseidon had\n claimed it as his own by setting up his weapon there. Something of the\n same kind seems here to be supposed to exist at Argos, where a like\n legend prevailed.\n\nFootnote 226:\n\n The Hellenic Hermes is distinguished from his Egyptian counterpart,\n Thoth, as being different in form and accessories.\n\nFootnote 227:\n\n A possible reference to the Egyptian Osiris, as lord or judge of\n Hades. Comp. v. 145.\n\nFootnote 228:\n\n \u201cShall I,\u201d the Chorus asks, \u201cspeak to you as a private citizen, or as\n a herald, or as a king?\u201d\n\nFootnote 229:\n\n It would appear from this that the king himself bore the name\n Pelasgos. In some versions of the story he is so designated.\n\nFootnote 230:\n\n The lines contain a tradition of the wide extent of the old Pelasgic\n rule, including Thessalia, or the Pelasgic Argos, between the mouths\n of Peneus and Pindos, Perrh\u00e6bia, Dodona, and finally the Apian land or\n Peloponnesos.\n\nFootnote 231:\n\n The true meaning of the word \u201cApian,\u201d as applied to the Peloponnesos,\n seems to have been \u201cdistant.\u201d Here the myth is followed which\n represented it as connected with Apis the son of Telchin (son of\n Apollo, in the sense of being a physician-prophet), who had freed the\n land from monsters.\n\nFootnote 232:\n\n The description would seem to indicate\u2014(1) that the daughter of Danaos\n appeared on the stage as of swarthy complexion; and (2) that Indians,\n \u00c6thiopians, Kyprians, and Amazons, were all thought of as in this\n respect alike.\n\nFootnote 233:\n\n The line is conjectural, but some question of this kind is implied in\n the answer of the Chorus.\n\nFootnote 234:\n\n By sacrificing personal likings to schemes of ambition, men and women\n contract marriages which increase their power.\n\nFootnote 235:\n\n The Gods of conflict are the pilots of the ship of the State. The\n altar dedicated to them is as its stern: the garlands and wands of\n suppliants which adorn it are as the decorations of the vessels.\n\nFootnote 236:\n\n Some editors have seen in this an attempt to enlist the constitutional\n sympathies of an Athenian audience in favour of the Argive king, who\n will not act without consulting his assembly. There seems more reason\n to think that the aim of the dramatist was in precisely the opposite\n direction, and that the words which follow set forth his admiration\n for the king who can act, as compared with one who is tied and\n hampered by restrictions.\n\nFootnote 237:\n\n By an Attic law, analogous in principle to that of the Jews, (Num.\n xxxvi. 8; 1 Chron. xxiii. 22), heiresses were absolutely bound to\n marry their next of kin, if he claimed his right. The king at once\n asserts this as the law which was _prim\u00e2 facie_ applicable to the\n case, and declares himself ready to surrender it if the petitioners\n can show that their own municipal law is on the other side. He will\n not thrust his country's customs upon foreigners, who can prove that\n they live under a different rule, but in the absence of evidence must\n act on the law which he is bound officially to recognise.\n\nFootnote 238:\n\n _Sc._, the pollution which the statues of the Gods would contract if\n they carried into execution their threat of suicide.\n\nFootnote 239:\n\n Inachos, the river-God of Argos, and as such contrasted with Neilos.\n\nFootnote 240:\n\n _i.e._, \u201cUnconsecrate,\u201d marked out by no barriers, accessible to all,\n and therefore seeming to offer but little prospect of a safe asylum.\n The place described seems to have been an open piece of turf rather\n than a grove of trees.\n\nFootnote 241:\n\n Comp. the narrative as given in _Prometheus Bound_, vv. 660, _et seq._\n\nFootnote 242:\n\n Teuthras' fort, or Teuthrania, is described by Strabo (xii. p. 571) as\n lying between the Hellespont and Mount Sipylos, in Magnesia.\n\nFootnote 243:\n\n Kypros, as dedicated to the worship of Aphrodite, and famous for its\n wine, and oil, and corn.\n\nFootnote 244:\n\n The question, what caused the mysterious exceptional inundations of\n the Nile, occupied, as we see from Herodotos (ii. c. 19-27), the minds\n of the Greeks. Of the four theories which the historian discusses,\n \u00c6schylos adopts that which referred it to the melting of the snows on\n the mountains of central Africa.\n\nFootnote 245:\n\n Typhon, the mythical embodiment of the power of evil, was fabled to\n have wandered over Egypt, seeking the body of Osiris. Isis, to baffle\n him, placed coffins in all parts of Egypt, all empty but the one which\n contained the body.\n\nFootnote 246:\n\n The fame of the Nile for the purity of its water, after the earthy\n matter held in solution had been deposited, seems to have been as\n great in the earliest periods of its history as it is now.\n\nFootnote 247:\n\n Io was represented as a woman with a heifer's head, and was probably a\n symbolic representation of the moon, with her crescent horns.\n Sometimes the transformation is described (as in v. 294) in words\n which imply a more thorough change.\n\nFootnote 248:\n\n Perhaps\u2014\n\n \u201cFor not as subject sitting 'neath the sway\n Of strength above his own.\u201d\n\nFootnote 249:\n\n The passage takes its place among the noblest utterances of a faith\n passing above the popular polytheism to the thought of one sovereign\n Will ruling and guiding all things, as Will\u2014without effort, in the\n calmness of a power irresistible.\n\nFootnote 250:\n\n Double, as involving a sin against the laws of hospitality, so far as\n the suppliants were strangers\u2014a sin against the laws of kindred, so\n far as they might claim by descent the rights of citizenship.\n\nFootnote 251:\n\n If, as has been conjectured, the tragedy was written with a view to\n the alliance between Argos and Athens, made in B.C. 461, this choral\n ode must have been the centre, if not of the dramatic, at all events\n of the political interest of the play.\n\nFootnote 252:\n\n The image is that of a bird of evil omen, perched upon the roof, and\n defiling the house, while it uttered its boding cries.\n\nFootnote 253:\n\n The suppliants' boughs, so held as to shade the face from view.\n\nFootnote 254:\n\n The name of Hecate connected Artemis as, on the one side, with the\n unseen world of Hades, so, on the other, with childbirth, and the\n purifications that followed on it.\n\nFootnote 255:\n\n The name of Lykeian, originally, perhaps, simply representing Apollo\n as the God of Light, came afterwards to be associated with the might\n of destruction (the Wolf-destroyer) and the darts of pestilence and\n sudden death. The prayer is therefore that he, the Destroyer, may\n hearken to the suppliants, and spare the people for whom they pray.\n\nFootnote 256:\n\n The \u201cthree great laws\u201d were those ascribed to Triptolemos, \u201cto honour\n parents, to worship the Gods with the fruits of the earth, to hurt\n neither man nor beast.\u201d\n\nFootnote 257:\n\n The Egyptian ships, like those of many other Eastern countries, had\n eyes (the eyes of Osiris, as they were called) painted on their bows.\n\nFootnote 258:\n\n A side-thrust, directed by the poet, who had fought at Marathon,\n against the growing effeminacy of the Athenian youth, many of whom\n were learning to shrink from all activity and exposure that might\n spoil their complexions. Comp. Plato, _Ph\u00e6dros_, p. 239.\n\nFootnote 259:\n\n The saying is somewhat dark, but the meaning seems to be that if the\n \u201cdogs\u201d of Egypt are strong, the \u201cwolves\u201d of Argos are stronger; that\n the wheat on which the Hellenes lived gave greater strength to limbs\n and sinew than the \u201cbyblos fruit\u201d on which the Egyptian soldiers and\n sailors habitually lived. Some writers, however, have seen in the last\n line, rendered\u2014\n\n \u201cThe byblos fruit not always bears full ear,\u201d\n\n a proverb like the English,\n\n \u201cThere's many a slip\n 'Twixt the cup and the lip.\u201d\n\nFootnote 260:\n\n The words recall the vision of the \u201cseven well-favoured kine and\n fat-fleshed,\u201d which \u201ccame out of the river,\u201d as Pharaoh dreamed (Gen.\n xli. 1, 2), and which were associated so closely with the fertility\n which it ordinarily produced through the whole extent of the valley of\n the Nile.\n\nFootnote 261:\n\n Two dangerous low headlands seem to have been known by this name, one\n on the coast of Kilikia, the other on that of the Thrakian Chersonese.\n\nFootnote 262:\n\n No traces of ships of this structure are found in Egyptian art; but,\n if the reading be right, it implies the existence of boats of some\n kind, so built that they could be steered from either end.\n\nFootnote 263:\n\n Hermes, the guardian deity of heralds, is here described by the\n epithet which marked him out as being also the patron of detectives.\n Every stranger arriving in a Greek port had to place himself under a\n _proxenos_ or patron of some kind. The herald, having no _proxenos_\n among the citizens, appeals to his patron deity.\n\nFootnote 264:\n\n The words refer to the custom of nailing decrees, proclamations,\n treaties, and the like, engraved on metal or marble, upon the walls of\n temples or public buildings. Traces of the same idea may possibly be\n found in the promise to Eliakim that he shall be \u201cas a nail in a sure\n place\u201d (Isa. xxii. 23), in the thanksgiving of Ezra that God had given\n His people \u201ca nail in his holy place\u201d (Ezra ix. 8).\n\nFootnote 265:\n\n As before, the bread of the Hellenes was praised to the disparagement\n of the \u201cbyblos fruit\u201d of Egypt, so here their wine to that of the\n Egyptian beer, which was the ordinary drink of the lower classes.\n\nFootnote 266:\n\n The words present a striking parallelism to the erotic imagery of the\n _Song of Solomon_: \u201cTake us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil our\n vines, for our vines have tender grapes.\u201d (ii. 15).\n\nFootnote 267:\n\n The Erasinos was supposed to rise in Arcadia, in Mount Stymphalos, to\n disappear below the earth, and to come to sight again in Argolis.\n\nFootnote 268:\n\n In this final choral ode of the _Suppliants_, as in that of the _Seven\n against Thebes_, we have the phenomenon of the division of the Chorus,\n hitherto united, into two sections of divergent thought and purpose.\n Semi-Chorus A. remains steadfast in its purpose of perpetual\n virginity; Semi-Chorus B. relents, and is ready to accept wedlock.\n\nFootnote 269:\n\n The two names were closely connected in the local worship of Athens,\n the temples of Aphrodite and Peitho (Suasion) standing at the\n south-west angle of the Acropolis. If any special purpose is to be\n traced in the invocation, we may see it in the poet's desire to bring\n out the nobler, more ethical side of Aphrodite's attributes, in\n contrast with the growing tendency to look on her as simply the\n patroness of brutal lust.\n\nFootnote 270:\n\n The play, as acted, formed part of a trilogy, and the next play, the\n _Danaids_, probably contained the sequel of the story, the acceptance\n by the Suppliants of the sons of \u00c6gyptos in marriage, the plot of\n Danaos for the destruction of the bridegrooms on the wedding-night,\n and the execution of the deed of blood by all but Hypermnestra.\n\n\n\n\n AGAMEMNON\n\n\n DRAMATIS PERSON\u00c6\n\n _Watchman_\n CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA\n AGAMEMNON\n _Chorus of Argive Elders_\n _Herald_ (TALTHYBIOS)\n CASSANDRA\n \u00c6GISTHOS\n\n\n_ARGUMENT.\u2014Ten years had passed since Agamemnon, son of Atreus, king of\nMyken\u00e6, had led the Hellenes to Tro\u00efa to take vengeance on Alexandros\n(also known as Paris), son of Priam. For Paris had basely wronged\nMenelaos, king of Sparta, Agamemnon's brother, in that, being received\nby him as a guest, he enticed his wife Helena to leave her lord and go\nwith him to Tro\u00efa. And now the tenth year had come, and Paris was slain,\nand the city of the Tro\u00efans was taken and destroyed, and Agamemnon and\nthe Hellenes were on their way homeward with the spoil and prisoners\nthey had taken. But meanwhile Clyt\u00e6mnestra too, Agamemnon's queen, had\nbeen unfaithful, and had taken as her paramour \u00c6gisthos, son of that\nThyestes whom Atreus, his brother, had made to eat, unknowing, of the\nflesh of his own children. And now, partly led by her adulterer, and\npartly seeking to avenge the death of her daughter Iphigeneia, whom\nAgamemnon had sacrificed to appease the wrath of Artemis, and partly\nalso jealous because he was bringing back Cassandra, the daughter of\nPriam, as his concubine, she plotted with \u00c6gisthos against her husband's\nlife. But this was done secretly, and she stationed a guard on the roof\nof the royal palace to give notice when he saw the beacon-fires, by\nwhich Agamemnon had promised that he would send tidings that Tro\u00efa was\ntaken._\n\n_Note._\u2014The unfaithfulness of Clyt\u00e6mnestra and the murder of Agamemnon\nhad entered into the Homeric cycle of the legends of the house of\nAtreus. In the _Odyssey_, however, \u00c6gisthos is the chief agent in this\ncrime (_Odyss._ iii. 264, iv. 91, 532, xi. 409); and the manner of it\ndiffers from that which \u00c6schylos has adopted. Clyt\u00e6mnestra first appears\nas slaying both her husband and Cassandra in Pindar (_Pyth._ xi. 26).\n\n\n SCENE.\u2014Argos. _The Palace of_ AGAMEMNON; _statues of the Gods\n in front. Watchman on the roof. Time, night._\n\n _Watchman._ I ask the Gods a respite from these toils,\n This keeping at my post the whole year round,\n Wherein, upon the Atreid\u00e6's roof reclined,\n Like dog, upon my elbow, I have learnt\n To know night's goodly company of stars,\n And those bright lords that deck the firmament,\n And winter bring to men, and harvest-tide;\n [The rising and the setting of the stars.]\n And now I watch for sign of beacon-torch,\n The flash of fire that bringeth news from Tro\u00efa,\n And tidings of its capture. So prevails\n *A woman's manly-purposed, hoping heart; 10\n And when I keep my bed of little ease,\n Drenched with the dew, unvisited by dreams,\n (For fear, instead of sleep, my comrade is,\n So that in sound sleep ne'er I close mine eyes,)\n And when I think to sing a tune, or hum,\n (My medicine of song to ward off sleep,)\n Then weep I, wailing for this house's chance,\n No more, as erst, right well administered.\n Well! may I now find blest release from toils, 20\n When fire from out the dark brings tidings good.\n\n [_Pauses, then springs up suddenly, seeing a\n light in the distance_\n\n Hail! thou torch-bearer of the night, that shedd'st\n Light as of morn, and bringest full array\n Of many choral bands in Argos met,\n Because of this success. Hurrah! hurrah!\n So clearly tell I Agamemnon's queen,\n With all speed rising from her couch to raise\n Shrill cry of triumph o'er this beacon-fire\n Throughout the house, since Ilion's citadel\n Is taken, as full well that bright blaze shows. 30\n I, for my part, will dance my prelude now;\n\n [_Leaps and dances_\n\n For I shall score my lord's new turn of luck,\n This beacon-blaze may throw of triple six.[271]\n Well, would that I with this mine hand may touch\n The dear hand of our king when he comes home!\n As to all else, the word is \u201cHush!\u201d An ox[272]\n Rests on my tongue; had the house a voice\n 'Twould tell too clear a tale. I'm fain to speak\n To those who know, forget with those who know not.\n\n [_Exit_\n\n _Enter Chorus of twelve Argive elders, chanting as they march to take\n up their position in the centre of the stage. A procession of\n women bearing torches is seen in the distance_\n\n Lo! the tenth year now is passing 40\n Since, of Priam great avengers,\n Menelaos, Agamemnon,\n Double-throned and doubled-sceptred,\n Power from sovran Zeus deriving\u2014\n Mighty pair of the Atreid\u00e6\u2014\n Raised a fleet of thousand vessels\n Of the Argives from our country,\n Potent helpers in their warfare,\n Shouting cry of Ares fiercely;\n E'en as vultures shriek who hover,\n Wheeling, whirling o'er their eyrie, 50\n In wild sorrow for their nestlings,\n With their oars of stout wings rowing,\n Having lost the toil that bound them\n To their callow fledglings' couches.\n But on high One,\u2014or Apollo,\n Zeus, or Pan,\u2014the shrill cry hearing,\n Cry of birds that are his clients,[273]\n Sendeth forth on men transgressing,\n Erinnys, slow but sure avenger;\n So against young Alexandros[274]\n Atreus' sons the great King sendeth,\n Zeus, of host and guest protector: 60\n He, for bride with many a lover,\n Will to Danai give and Tro\u00efans\n Many conflicts, men's limbs straining,\n When the knee in dust is crouching,\n And the spear-shaft in the onset\n Of the battle snaps asunder.\n But as things are now, so are they,\n So, as destined, shall the end be.\n Nor by tears, nor yet libations\n Shall he soothe the wrath unbending\n Caused by sacred rites left fireless.[275] 70\n We, with old frame little honoured,\n Left behind that host are staying,\n Resting strength that equals childhood's\n On our staff: for in the bosom\n *Of the boy, life's young sap rushing,\n Is of old age but the equal;\n Ares not as yet is found there:\n And the man in age exceeding,\n When the leaf is sere and withered,\n Goes with three feet on his journey;[276] 80\n Not more Ares-like than boyhood,\n Like a day-seen dream he wanders.\n\n [_Enter_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA, _followed by the procession\n of torch-bearers_\n\n Thou, of Tyndareus the daughter,\n Queen of Argos, Clyt\u00e6mnestra,\n What has happened? what news cometh?\n What perceiving, on what tidings\n Leaning, dost thou put in motion\n All this solemn, great procession?\n Of the Gods who guard the city,\n Those above and those beneath us,\n Of the heaven, and of the market, 90\n Lo! with thy gifts blaze the altars;\n And through all the expanse of Heaven,\n Here and there, the torch-fire rises,\n With the flowing, pure persuasion\n Of the holy unguent nourished,\n *And the chrism rich and kingly\n From the treasure-store's recesses.\n Telling what of this thou canst tell,\n What is right for thee to utter,\n Be a healer of my trouble,\n Trouble now my soul disturbing, 100\n *While anon fond hope displaying\n Sacrificial signs propitious,\n Wards off care that no rest knoweth,\n Sorrow mind and heart corroding.\n\n [_The Chorus, taking their places round the central\n thymele, begin their song_[277]\n\n\n STROPHE\n\n Able am I to utter, setting forth\n The might from omens sprung\n *What met the heroes as they journeyed on,\n (For still, by God's great gift,\n My age, yet linked with strength,\n *Breathes suasive power of song,)\n How the Ach\u00e6ans' twin-throned majesty,\n Accordant rulers of the youth of Hellas, 110\n With spear and vengeful hand,\n Were sent by fierce, strong bird 'gainst Teucrian shore,\n Kings of the birds to kings of ships appearing,\n One black, with white tail one,\n Near to the palace, on the spear-hand side,\n On station seen of all,\n A pregnant hare devouring with her young,\n Robbed of all runs to come:\n Wail as for Linos, wail, wail bitterly,\n And yet may good prevail![278] 120\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE\n\n And the wise prophet of the army seeing\n The brave Atreid\u00e6 twain\n Of diverse mood, knew those that tore the hare,\n And those that led the host;\n And thus divining spake:\n \u201cOne day this armament\n Shall Priam's city sack, and all the herds\n Owned by the people, countless, by the towers,\n Fate shall with force lay low.\n Only take heed lest any wrath of Gods 130\n Blunt the great curb of Tro\u00efa yet encamped,\n Struck down before its time;\n For Artemis the chaste that house doth hate,\n Her father's wing\u00e8d hounds,\n Who slay the mother with her unborn young,\n And loathes the eagles' feast.\n Wail as for Linos, wail, wail bitterly;\n And yet may good prevail!\n\n\n EPODE\n\n \u201c*For she, the fair One, though so kind of heart\n *To fresh-dropt dew from mighty lion's womb,[279]\n And young that suck the teats\n Of all that roam the fields, 140\n *Yet prays Him bring to pass\n The portents of those birds,\n The omens good yet also full of dread.\n And P\u00e6an I invoke\n As Healer, lest she on the Danai send\n Delays that keep the ships\n Long time with hostile blasts,\n So urging on a new, strange sacrifice,\n Unblest, unfestivalled,[280]\n By natural growth artificer of strife,\n Bearing far other fruit than wife's true fear,\n For there abideth yet,\n Fearful, recurring still,\n Ruling the house, full subtle, unforgetting,\n Vengeance for children slain.\u201d[281] 150\n Such things, with great good mingled, Calchas spake,\n In voice that pierced the air,\n As destined by the birds that crossed our path\n To this our kingly house:\n And in accord with them,\n Wail as for Linos, wail, wail bitterly;\n And yet may good prevail.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n O Zeus\u2014whate'er He be,[282]\n If that Name please Him well,\n By that on Him I call:\n Weighing all other names I fail to guess\n Aught else but Zeus, if I would cast aside,\n Clearly, in every deed,\n From off my soul this idle weight of care. 160\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n Nor He who erst was great,[283]\n Full of the might to war,\n *Avails now; He is gone;\n And He who next came hath departed too,\n His victor meeting; but if one to Zeus,\n High triumph-praise should sing,\n His shall be all the wisdom of the wise;\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Yea, Zeus, who leadeth men in wisdom's way, 170\n And fixeth fast the law,\n That pain is gain;\n And slowly dropping on the heart in sleep\n Comes woe-recording care,\n And makes the unwilling yield to wiser thoughts:\n And doubtless this too comes from grace of Gods,\n *Seated in might upon their awful thrones.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n And then of those Ach\u00e6an ships the chief,[284]\n The elder, blaming not\n Or seer or priest;\n But tempered to the fate that on him smote.... 180\n When that Ach\u00e6an host\n Were vexed with adverse winds and failing stores,\n Still kept where Chalkis in the distance lies,\n And the vexed waves in Aulis ebb and flow;\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And breezes from the Strymon sweeping down,\n Breeding delays and hunger, driving forth\n Our men in wandering course,\n On seas without a port.\n Sparing nor ships, nor rope, nor sailing gear,\n With doubled months wore down the Argive host; 190\n And when, for that wild storm,\n Of one more charm far harder for our chiefs\n The prophet told, and spake of Artemis,[285]\n In tone so piercing shrill,\n The Atreid\u00e6 smote their staves upon the ground,\n And could not stay their tears.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And then the old king lifted up his voice,\n And spake, \u201cGreat woe it is to disobey;\n Great too to slay my child, 200\n The pride and joy of home,\n Polluting with the streams of maiden's blood\n Her father's hands upon the altar steps.\n What course is free from ill?\n How lose my ships and fail of mine allies?\n 'Tis meet that they with strong desire should seek\n A rite the winds to soothe,\n E'en though it be with blood of maiden pure;\n May all end well at last!\u201d 210\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n So when he himself had harnessed\n To the yoke of Fate unbending,\n With a blast of strange, new feeling,\n Sweeping o'er his heart and spirit,\n Aweless, godless, and unholy,\n He his thoughts and purpose altered\n To full measure of all daring,\n (Still base counsel's fatal frenzy,\n Wretched primal source of evils,\n Gives to mortal hearts strange boldness,)\n And at last his heart he hardened\n His own child to slay as victim,\n Help in war that they were waging,\n To avenge a woman's frailty,\n Victim for the good ship's safety.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n All her prayers and eager callings, 220\n On the tender name of Father,\n All her young and maiden freshness,\n They but set at nought, those rulers,\n In their passion for the battle.\n And her father gave commandment\n To the servants of the Goddess,\n When the prayer was o'er, to lift her,\n Like a kid, above the altar,\n In her garments wrapt, face downwards,\u2014[286]\n Yea, to seize with all their courage,\n And that o'er her lips of beauty\n Should be set a watch to hinder\n Words of curse against the houses,\n With the gag's strength silence-working.[287]\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n And she upon the ground\n Pouring rich folds of veil in saffron dyed, 230\n Cast at each one of those who sacrificed\n A piteous glance that pierced,\n Fair as a pictured form;[288]\n And wishing,\u2014all in vain,\u2014\n To speak; for oftentimes\n In those her father's hospitable halls\n She sang, a maiden pure with chastest song,\n *And her dear father's life\n That poured its threefold cup of praise to God,[289]\n Crowned with all choicest good,\n She with a daughter's love\n Was wont to celebrate.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n What then ensued mine eyes\n Saw not, nor may I tell, but Calchas' arts 240\n Were found not fruitless. Justice turns the scale\n For those to whom through pain\n At last comes wisdom's gain.\n *But for our future fate,\n *Since help for it is none,\n *Good-bye to it before it comes, and this\n Has the same end as wailing premature;\n For with to-morrow's dawn\n It will come clear; may good luck crown our fate!\n So prays the one true guard,\n Nearest and dearest found,\n Of this our Apian land.[290]\n\n [_The Chief of the Chorus turns to_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA, _and\n her train of handmaids, who are seen\n approaching_\n\n _Chor._ I come, O Clyt\u00e6mnestra, honouring\n Thy majesty: 'tis meet to pay respect\n To a chief's wife, the man's throne empty left: 250\n But whether thou hast heard good news, or else\n In hopes of tidings glad dost sacrifice,\n I fain would hear, yet will not silence blame.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ May Morning, as the proverb runs, appear\n Bearing glad tidings from his mother Night![291]\n Joy thou shalt learn beyond thy hope to hear;\n For Argives now have taken Priam's city.\n\n _Chor._ What? Thy words sound so strange they flit by me.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ The Ach\u00e6ans hold Tro\u00efa. Speak I clear enough? 260\n\n _Chor._ Joy creeps upon me, drawing forth my tears.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Of loyal heart thine eyes give token true.\n\n _Chor._ What witness sure hast thou of these events?\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Full clear (how else?) unless the God deceive.[292]\n\n _Chor._ Reliest thou on dreams or visions seen?\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ I place no trust in mind weighed down with sleep.[293]\n\n _Chor._ Hath then some wingless omen charmed thy soul?[294]\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ My mind thou scorn'st, as though 'twere but a girl's.\n\n _Chor._ What time has passed since they the city sacked?\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ This very night, the mother of this morn. 270\n\n _Chor._ What herald could arrive with speed like this?\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Heph\u00e6stos flashing forth bright flames from Ida:\n Beacon to beacon from that courier-fire\n Sent on its tidings; Ida to the rock[295]\n Herm\u00e6an named, in Lemnos: from the isle\n The height of Athos, dear to Zeus, received\n A third great torch of flame, and lifted up,\n So as on high to skim the broad sea's back,\n The stalwart fire rejoicing went its way;\n The pine-wood, like a sun, sent forth its light\n Of golden radiance to Makistos' watch; 280\n And he, with no delay, nor unawares\n Conquered by sleep, performed his courier's part:\n Far off the torch-light, to Eur\u00eepos' straits\n Advancing, tells it to Messapion's guards:\n They, in their turn, lit up and passed it on,\n Kindling a pile of dry and aged heath.\n Still strong and fresh the torch, not yet grown dim,\n Leaping across As\u00f4pos' plain in guise\n Like a bright moon, towards Kith\u00e6ron's rock,\n Roused the next station of the courier flame. 290\n And that far-travelled light the sentries there\n Refused not, burning more than all yet named:\n And then the light swooped o'er Gorg\u00f4pis' lake,\n And passing on to \u00c6giplanctos' mount,\n Bade the bright fire's due order tarry not;\n And they, enkindling boundless store, send on\n A mighty beard of flame, and then it passed\n The headland e'en that looks on Saron's gulf,\n Still blazing. On it swept, until it came\n To Arachn\u00e6an heights, the watch-tower near; 300\n Then here on the Atreid\u00e6's roof it swoops,\n This light, of Ida's fire no doubtful heir.\n Such is the order of my torch-race games;\n One from another taking up the course,[296]\n But here the winner is both first and last;\n And this sure proof and token now I tell thee,\n Seeing that my lord hath sent it me from Tro\u00efa.\n\n _Chor._ I to the Gods, O Queen, will pray hereafter,\n But fain would I hear all thy tale again,\n E'en as thou tell'st, and satiate my wonder. 310\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ This very day the Ach\u00e6ans Tro\u00efa hold.\n I trow full diverse cry pervades the town:\n Pour in the same vase vinegar and oil,\n *And you would call them enemies, not friends;\n And so from conquerors and from captives now\n The cries of varied fortune one may hear.\n For these, low-fallen on the carcases\n Of husbands and of brothers, children too\n By aged fathers, mourn their dear ones' death,\n And that with throats that are no longer free. 320\n And those the hungry toil of sleepless guard,\n After the battle, at their breakfast sets;\n Not billeted in order fixed and clear,\n But just as each his own chance fortune grasps,\n They in the captive houses of the Tro\u00efans\n Dwell, freed at last from all the night's chill frosts,\n And dews of heaven, for now, poor wretches, they\n Will sleep all night without the sentry's watch;\n And if they reverence well the guardian Gods\n Of that new-conquered country, and their shrines, 330\n Then they, the captors, will not captured be.\n Ah! let no evil lust attack the host\n Conquered by greed, to plunder what they ought not:\n For yet they need return in safety home,\n Doubling the goal to run their backward race.[297]\n *But should the host come sinning 'gainst the Gods,\n Then would the curse of those that perish\u00e8d\n Be watchful, e'en though no quick ill might fall.\n Such thoughts are mine, mere woman though I be.\n May good prevail beyond all doubtful chance! 340\n For I have got the blessing of great joy.\n\n _Chor._ Thou, lady, kindly, like a sage, dost speak,\n And I, on hearing thy sure evidence,\n Prepare myself to give the Gods due thanks;\n For they have wrought full meed for all our toil.\n\n [_Exit_ CLYT\u00c6M. _with her train_\n\n O Zeus our King! O Night beloved,\n Mighty winner of great glories,\n Who upon the towers of Tro\u00efa\n Casted'st snare of closest meshes,\n So that none full-grown or youthful 350\n Could o'erleap the net of bondage,\n Woe of universal capture;\u2014\n Zeus, of host and guest protector,\n Who hath brought these things, I worship;\n He long since on Alexandros\n Stretched his bow that so his arrow\n Might not sweep at random, missing,\n Or beyond the stars shoot idly.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Yes, one may say, 'tis Zeus whose blow they feel;\n This one may clearly trace:\n They fared as He decreed:\n Yea, one there was who said, 360\n \u201cThe Gods deign not to care for mortal men[298]\n By whom the grace of things inviolable\n Is trampled under foot.\u201d\n No fear of God had he:\n *Now is it to the children manifest[299]\n Of those who, overbold,\n Breathed rebel War beyond the bounds of Right,\n Their houses overfilled with precious store\n *Above the golden mean.\n *Ah! let our life be free from all that hurts, 370\n So that for one who gains\n Wisdom in heart and soul,\n That lot may be enough.\n Since still there is no bulwark strong in wealth\n Against destruction's doom,\n For one who in the pride of wantonness\n Spurns the great altar of the Right and Just.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n Him woeful, subtle Impulse urges on,\n Resistless in her might,\n At\u00e8's far-scheming child:\n All remedy is vain.\n It is not hidden, but is manifest,\n That mischief with its horrid gleaming light; 380\n And, like to worthless bronze,[300]\n By friction tried and tests,\n It turns to tarnished blackness in its hue:\n Since, boy-like, he pursues\n A bird upon its flight, and so doth bring\n Upon his city shame intolerable:\n And no God hears his prayer,\n But bringeth low the unjust,\n Who deals with deeds like this.\n Thus Paris came to the Atreid\u00e6's home, 390\n And stole its queen away,\n And so left brand of shame indelible\n Upon the board where host and guest had sat.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n She, leaving to her countrymen at home\n Wild din of spear and shield and ships of war,\n And bringing, as her dower,\n To Ilion doom of death,\n Passed very swiftly through the palace gates,\n Daring what none should dare;\n And many a wailing cry\n They raised, the minstrel prophets of the house,\n \u201cWoe for that kingly home!\n Woe for that kingly home and for its chiefs! 400\n Woe for the marriage-bed and traces left\n Of wife who loved her lord!\u201d\n *There stands he silent; foully wronged and yet\n *Uttering no word of scorn,[301]\n *In deepest woe perceiving she is gone;\n And in his yearning love\n For one beyond the sea,\n A ghost shall seem to queen it o'er the house;\n The grace of sculptured forms[302]\n Is loath\u00e8d by her lord,\n And in the penury of life's bright eyes\n All Aphrodit\u00e8's charm\n To utter wreck has gone.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n And phantom shades that hover round in dreams 410\n Come full of sorrow, bringing vain delight;\n For vain it is, when one\n Sees seeming shows of good,\n And gliding through his hands the dream is gone,\n After a moment's space,\n On wings that follow still\n Upon the path where sleep goes to and fro.\n Such are the woes at home\n Upon the altar hearth, and worse than these.\n But on a wider scale for those who went\n From Hellas' ancient shore,\n A sore distress that causeth pain of heart 420\n Is seen in every house.\n Yea, many things there are that touch the quick:\n For those whom each did send\n He knoweth; but, instead\n Of living men, there come to each man's home\n Funeral urns alone,\n And ashes of the dead.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n For Ares, trafficking for golden coin\n The lifeless shapes of men,\n And in the rush of battle holding scales,\n Sends now from Ilion\n Dust from the funeral pyre,\n A burden sore to loving friends at home,\n And bitterly bewailed,\n Filling the brazen urn\n With well-smoothed ashes in the place of men; 430\n And with high praise they mourn\n This hero skilled and valiant in the fight,\n And that who in the battle nobly fell,\n All for another's wife:\n And other words some murmur secretly;\n And jealous discontent\n Against the Atreid\u00e6, champions in the suit,\n Creeps on all stealthily;\n And some around the wall,\n In full and goodly form have sepulture\n There upon Ilion's soil, 440\n And their foes' land inters its conquerors.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And so the murmurs of their subjects rise\n With sullen discontent,\n And do the dread work of a people's curse;\n And now my boding fear\n Awaits some news of ill,\n As yet enwrapt in blackness of the night.\n Not heedless are the Gods\n Of shedders of much blood,\n And the dark-robed Erinnyes in due time,\n By adverse chance of life, 450\n Place him who prospers in unrighteousness\n In gloom obscure; and once among the unseen,\n There is no help for him:\n Fame in excess is but a perilous thing;\n For on men's quivering eyes\n Is hurled by Zeus the blinding thunderbolt.\n I praise the good success\n That rouses not God's wrath;\n Ne'er be it mine a city to lay waste.[303]\n Nor, as a prisoner, see\n My life wear on beneath another's power!\n\n\n EPODE\n\n And now at bidding of the courier flame,\n The herald of good news,\n A rumour swift spreads through the city streets, 460\n But who knows clearly whether it be true,\n Or whether God has mingled lies with it?\n Who is so childish or so reft of sense,\n As with his heart a-glow\n At that fresh uttered message of the flame,\n Then to wax sad at changing rumour's sound?\n It suits the mood that sways a woman's mind\n To pour thanksgiving ere the truth is seen:\n Quickly, with rapid steps, too credulous,\n The limit which a woman sets to trust\n Advances evermore;[304]\n And with swift doom of death 470\n A rumour spread by woman perishes.\n\n [_As the Chorus ends, a Herald is seen approaching,\n his head wreathed with olive_[305]\n\n Soon we shall know the sequence of the torches\n Light-giving, and of all the beacon-fires,\n If they be true; or if, as 'twere a dream,\n This sweet light coming hath beguiled our minds.\n I see a herald coming from the shore,\n With olive boughs o'ershadowed, and the dust,[306]\n Dry sister-twin of mire,[307] announces this,\n That neither without voice, nor kindling blaze\n Of wood upon the mountains, he will signal 480\n With smoke from fire, but either he will come,\n With clear speech bidding us rejoice, or else ... [_pauses_\n The word opposed to this I much mislike.\n Nay, may good issue good beginnings crown!\n Who for our city utters other prayers,\n May he himself his soul's great error reap!\n\n _Herald._ Hail, soil of this my Argive fatherland.\n Now in the light of the tenth year I reach thee,\n Though many hopes are shattered, gaining one.\n For never did I think in Argive land\n To die, and share the tomb that most I craved. 490\n Now hail! thou land; and hail! thou light of day:\n Zeus our great ruler, and thou Pythian king,\n No longer darting arrows from thy bow.[308]\n Full hostile wast thou by Scamandros' banks,\n Now be thou Saviour, yea, and Healer found,\n O king Apollo! and the Gods of war,\n These I invoke; my patron Hermes too,\n Dear herald, whom all heralds reverence,\u2014\n Those heroes, too, that sent us,[309]\u2014graciously\n To welcome back the host that war has spared. 500\n Hail, O ye royal dwellings, home beloved!\n Ye solemn thrones, and Gods who face the sun![310]\n If e'er of old, with cheerful glances now\n After long time receive our king's array.\n For he is come, in darkness bringing light\n To you and all, our monarch, Agamemnon.\n Salute him with all grace; for so 'tis meet,\n Since he hath dug up Tro\u00efa with the spade\n Of Zeus the Avenger, and the plain laid waste;\n Fallen their altars and the shrines of Gods; 510\n The seed of all the land is rooted out,\n This yoke of bondage casting over Tro\u00efa,\n Our chief, the elder of the Atreid\u00e6, comes,\n A man full blest, and worthiest of high honour\n Of all that are. For neither Paris' self,\n Nor his accomplice city now can boast\n Their deed exceeds its punishment. For he,\n Found guilty on the charge of rape and theft,[311]\n Hath lost his prize and brought his father's house,\n With lands and all, to waste and utter wreck;\n And Priam's sons have double forfeit paid.[312] 520\n\n _Chor._ Joy, joy, thou herald of the Ach\u00e6an host!\n\n _Her._ All joy is mine: I shrink from death no more.\n\n _Chor._ Did love for this thy fatherland so try thee?\n\n _Her._ So that mine eyes weep tears for very joy,*\n\n _Chor._ Disease full sweet then this ye suffered from ...\n\n _Her._ How so? When taught, I shall thy meaning master.\n\n _Chor._ Ye longed for us who yearned for you in turn.\n\n _Her._ Say'st thou this land its yearning host yearned o'er?\n\n _Chor._ Yea, so that oft I groaned in gloom of heart.\n\n _Her._ Whence came these bodings that an army hates? 530\n\n _Chor._ Silence I've held long since a charm for ill.\n\n _Her._ How, when your lords were absent, feared ye any?\n\n _Chor._ To use thy words, death now would welcome be.\n\n _Her._ Good is the issue; but in so long time\n Some things, one well might say, have prospered well,\n And some give cause for murmurs. Save the Gods,\n Who free from sorrow lives out all his life?\n For should I tell of toils, and how we lodged\n Full hardly, seldom putting in to shore,[313]\n And then with couch full hard.... What gave us not\n Good cause for mourning? What ill had we not 540\n As daily portion? And what passed on land,\n That brought yet greater hardship: for our beds\n Were under our foes' walls, and meadow mists\n From heaven and earth still left us wringing wet,\n A constant mischief to our garments, making\n Our hair as shaggy as the beasts'.[314] And if\n One spoke of winter frosts that killed the birds,\n By Ida's snow-storms made intolerable,[315]\n Or heat, when Ocean in its noontide couch\n Windless reclined and slept without a wave....\n But why lament o'er this? Our toil is past; 550\n Past too is theirs who in the warfare fell,\n So that no care have they to rise again.\n Why should I count the number of the dead,\n Or he that lives mourn o'er a past mischance?\n To change and chance I bid a long Farewell:\n With us, the remnant of the Argive host,\n Good fortune wins, no ills as counterpoise.\n So it is meet to this bright sun we boast,\n Who travel homeward over land and sea;\n \u201cThe Argive host who now have captured Tro\u00efa, 560\n These spoils of battle[316] to the Gods of Hellas\n Hang on their pegs, enduring prize and joy.\u201d[317]\n Hearing these things we ought to bless our country\n And our commanders; and the grace of Zeus\n That wrought this shall be honoured. My tale's told.\n\n _Chor._ Thy words o'ercome me, and I say not nay;\n To learn good keeps youth's freshness with the old.\n 'Tis meet these things should be a special care\n To Clyt\u00e6mnestra and the house, and yet\n That they should make me sharer in their joy.\n\n _Enter_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ I long ago for gladness raised my cry, 570\n When the first fiery courier came by night,\n Telling of Tro\u00efa taken and laid waste:\n And then one girding at me spake, \u201cDost think,\n Trusting in beacons, Tro\u00efa is laid waste?\n This heart elate is just a woman's way.\u201d\n In words like these they made me out distraught;\n Yet still I sacrificed, and with a strain\n Shrill as a woman's, they, now here, now there,\n Throughout the city hymns of blessing raised\n In shrines of Gods, and lulled to gentle sleep\n The fragrant flame that on the incense fed. 580\n And now why need'st thou lengthen out thy words?\n I from the king himself the tale shall learn;\n And that I show all zeal to welcome back\n My honoured lord on his return (for what\n Is brighter joy for wife to see than this,\n When God has brought her husband back from war,\n To open wide her gates?) tell my lord this,\n \u201cTo come with all his speed, the city's idol;\u201d\n And \u201cmay he find a faithful wife at home,\n Such as he left her, noble watch-dog still 590\n For him, and hostile to his enemies;\n And like in all things else, who has not broken\n One seal of his in all this length of time.\u201d[318]\n No pleasure have I known, nor scandal ill\n With any other more than ... stains on bronze.[319]\n Such is my vaunt, and being full of truth,\n Not shameful for a noble wife to speak.[320] [_Exit_\n\n _Chor._ [_to Herald_.] She hath thus spoken in thy hearing now\n A goodly word for good interpreters.\n But tell me, herald, tell of Menelaos, 600\n If, coming home again in safety he\n Is with you, the dear strength of this our land.\n\n _Her._ I cannot make report of false good news,\n So that my friends should long rejoice in it.\n\n _Chor._ Ah! could'st thou good news speak, and also true!\n These things asunder are not well concealed.\n\n _Her._ The chief has vanished from the Ach\u00e6an host,\n He and his ship. I speak no falsehood here.\n\n _Chor._ In sight of all when he from Ilion sailed?\n Or did a storm's wide evil part him from you? 610\n\n _Her._ Like skilful archer thou hast hit the mark,\n And in few words has told of evil long.\n\n _Chor._ And was it of him as alive or dead\n The whisper of the other sailors ran?\n\n _Her._ None to that question answer clear can give,\n Save the Sun-God who feeds the life of earth.\n\n _Chor._ How say'st thou? Did a storm come on our fleet,\n And do its work through anger of the Gods?\n\n _Her._ It is not meet a day of tidings good\n To mar with evil news. Apart for each 620\n Is special worship. But when courier brings\n With louring face the ills men pray against,\n And tells a city that its host has fallen,\n That for the State there is a general wound,\n That many a man from many a home is driven,\n As banned by double scourge that Ares loves,\n Woe doubly-barbed, Death's two-horsed chariot this....\n When with such griefs as freight a herald comes,\n 'Tis meet to chant the Erinnyes' dolorous song;\n But for glad messenger of good deeds wrought\n That bring deliverance, coming to a town 630\n Rejoicing in its triumph, ... how shall I\n Blend good with evil, telling of a storm\n That smote the Ach\u00e6ans, not without God's wrath?\n For they a compact swore who erst were foes,\n Ocean and Fire, and their pledges gave,\n Wrecking the ill-starred army of the Argives;\n And in the night rose ill of raging storm:\n For Thrakian tempests shattered all the ships,\n Each on the other. Some thus crashed and bruised,\n By the storm stricken and the surging foam\n Of wind-tost waves, soon vanished out of sight, 640\n Whirled by an evil pilot. And when rose\n The sun's bright orb, behold, the \u00c6g\u00e6an sea\n Blossomed with wrecks of ships and dead Ach\u00e6ans.\n And as for us and our uninjured ship,\n Surely 'twas some one stole or begged us off,\n Some God, not man, presiding at the helm;\n And on our ship with good will Fortune sat,\n Giver of safety, so that nor in haven\n Felt we the breakers, nor on rough rock-beach\n Ran we aground. But when we had escaped 650\n The hell of waters, then in clear, bright day,\n Not trusting in our fortune, we in thought\n O'er new ills brooded of our host destroyed,\n And eke most roughly handled. And if still\n Breathe any of them they report of us\n As having perished. How else should they speak?\n And we in our turn deem that they are so.\n God send good ending! Look you, first and chief,\n For Menelaos' coming; and indeed,\n If any sunbeam know of him alive\n And well, by help of Zeus who has not willed 660\n As yet to blot out all the regal race,\n Some hope there is that he'll come back again.\n Know, hearing this, that thou the truth hast heard.\n\n [_Exit Herald_\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Who was it named her with such wondrous truth?\n (Could it be One unseen,\n In strange prevision of her destined work,\n Guiding the tongue through chance?)\n Who gave that war-wed, strife-upstirring one\n The name of Helen, ominous of ill?[321] 670\n For all too plainly she\n Hath been to men, and ships,\n And towers, as doom of Hell.\n From bower of gorgeous curtains forth she sailed\n With breeze of Zephyr Titan-born and strong;[322]\n And hosts of many men,\n Hunters that bore the shield,\n Went on the track of those who steered their boat\n Unseen to leafy banks of Simois,\n On her account who came,\n Dire cause of strife with bloodshed in her train. 680\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n And so the wrath which works its vengeance out\n Dear bride to Ilion brought,\n (Ah, all too truly named!) exacting still[323]\n After long lapse of time\n The penalty of foul dishonour done\n To friendship's board and Zeus, of host and guest\n The God, from those who paid\n Their loud-voiced honour then\n Unto that bridal strain,\n That hymeneal chorus which to chant\n Fell to the lot of all the bridegroom's kin.[324]\n But learning other song,\n Priam's ancient city now 690\n Bewaileth sore, and calls on Paris' name,\n Wedded in fatal wedlock; all the time\n *Enduring tear-fraught life\n *For all the blood its citizens had lost.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n So once a lion's cub,\n A mischief in his house,\n As foster child one reared,[325]\n While still it loved the teats;\n In life's preluding dawn\n Tame, by the children loved, 700\n And fondled by the old,[326]\n Oft in his arms 'twas held,\n Like infant newly born,\n With eyes that brightened to the hand that stroked,\n And fawning at the hest of hunger keen.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n But when full-grown, it showed\n The nature of its sires;\n For it unbidden made\n A feast in recompense\n Of all their fostering care,\n *By banquet of slain sheep; 710\n With blood the house was stained,\n A curse no slaves could check,\n Great mischief murderous:\n By God's decree a priest of At\u00e8 thus\n Was reared, and grew within the man's own house.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n So I would tell that thus to Ilion came\n Mood as of calm when all the air is still,\n The gentle pride and joy of kingly state,\n A tender glance of eye,\n The full-blown blossom of a passionate love,\n Thrilling the very soul; 720\n And yet she turned aside,\n And wrought a bitter end of marriage feast,\n Coming to Priam's race,\n Ill sojourner, ill friend,\n Sent by great Zeus, the God of host and guest\u2014\n Erinnys, for whom wives weep many tears.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n There lives an old saw, framed in ancient days,[327]\n In memories of men, that high estate\n Full-grown brings forth its young, nor childless dies,\n But that from good success\n Springs to the race a woe insatiable. 730\n But I, apart from all,\n Hold this my creed alone:\n For impious act it is that offspring breeds,\n Like to their parent stock:\n For still in every house\n That loves the right their fate for evermore\n Rejoiceth in an issue fair and good.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n But Recklessness of old\n Is wont to breed another Recklessness,\n Sporting its youth in human miseries,\n Or now, or then, whene'er the fixed hour comes: 740\n That in its youth, in turn,\n Doth full-flushed Lust beget,\n And that dread demon-power unconquerable,\n Daring that fears not God,\u2014\n Two curses black within the homes of men,\n Like those that gendered them.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n But Justice shineth bright\n In dwellings that are dark and dim with smoke,\n And honours life law-ruled,\n While gold-decked homes conjoined with hands defiled 750\n She with averted eyes\n Hath left, and draweth near\n To holier things, nor worships might of wealth,\n If counterfeit its praise;\n But still directeth all the course of things\n Towards its destined goal.\n\n [AGAMEMNON _is seen approaching in his\n chariot, followed by another chariot, in\n which_ CASSANDRA _is standing, carrying\n her prophet's wand in her hand, and\n wearing fillets round her temples, and by\n a great train of soldiers bearing trophies.\n As they come on the stage the Chorus\n sings its welcome_\n\n Come then, king, thou son of Atreus,\n Waster of the towers of Tro\u00efa,\n What of greeting and of homage\n Shall I give, nor overshooting,\n Nor due need of honour missing?\n Men there are who, right transgressing,\n Honour semblance more than being. 760\n O'er the sufferer all are ready\n Wail of bitter grief to utter,\n Though the biting pang of sorrow\n Never to their heart approaches;\n So with counterfeit rejoicing\n Men strain faces that are smileless;\n But when one his own sheep knoweth,\n Then men's eyes cannot deceive him,\n When they deem with kindly purpose, 770\n And with fondness weak to flatter.\n Thou, when thou did'st lead thine army\n For Helen's sake\u2014(I will not hide it)\u2014\n Wast to me as one whose features\n Have been limned by unskilled artist,\n Guiding ill the helm of reason,\n Giving men to death's doom sentenced\n *Courage which their will rejected.[328]\n Now nor from the spirit's surface,\n Nor with touch of thought unfriendly,\n All the toil, I say, is welcome,\n If men bring it to good issue.\n And thou soon shalt know, enquiring 780\n Him who rightly, him who wrongly\n Of thy citizens fulfilleth\n Task of office for the city.[329]\n\n _Agam._ First Argos, and the Gods who guard the land,\n 'Tis right to greet; to them in part I owe\n This my return, and vengeance that I took\n On Priam's city. Not on hearsay proof\n Judging the cause, with one consent the Gods\n Cast in their votes into the urn of blood\n For Ilion's ruin and her people's death;\n *I' the other urn Hope touched the rim alone, 790\n Still far from being filled full.[330] And even yet\n The captured city by its smoke is seen,\n *The incense clouds of At\u00e8 live on still;\n And, in the act of dying with its prey,\n From richest store the dust sends savours sweet.\n For these things it is meet to give the Gods\n Thank-offerings long-enduring; for our nets\n Of vengeance we set close, and for a woman\n Our Argive monster laid the city low,[331]\n Foaled by the mare, a people bearing shield,\n Taking its leap when set the Pleiades;[332]\n And, bounding o'er the tower, that ravenous lion 800\n Lapped up its fill of blood of kingly race.\n This prelude to the Gods I lengthen out;\n And as concerns thy feeling (this I well\n Remember hearing) I with thee agree,\n And thou in me may'st find an advocate.\n With but few men is it their natural bent\n To honour without grudging prosperous friend:\n For ill-souled envy that the heart besets,\n Doubles his woe who suffers that disease:\n He by his own griefs first is overwhelmed,\n And groans at sight of others' happier lot. 810\n *And I with good cause say, (for well I know,)\n They are but friendship's mirror, phantom shade,\n Who seemed to be my most devoted friends.\n Odysseus only, who against his will[333]\n Sailed with us, still was found true trace-fellow:\n And this I say of him or dead or living.\n But as for all that touches on the State,\n Or on the Gods, in full assembly we,\n Calling our council, will deliberate: 820\n For what goes well we should with care provide\n How longest it may last; and where there needs\n A healing charm, there we with all good-will,\n By surgery or cautery will try\n To turn away the mischief of disease.\n And now will I to home and household hearth\n Move on, and first give thanks unto the Gods\n Who led me forth, and brought me back again.\n Since Victory follows, long may she remain!\n\n _Enter_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA, _followed by female attendants\n carrying purple tapestry_\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Ye citizens, ye Argive senators,\n I will not shrink from telling you the tale\n Of wife's true love. As time wears on one drops 830\n All over-shyness. Not learning it from others,\n I will narrate my own unhappy life,\n The whole long time my lord at Ilion stayed.\n For first, that wife should sit at home alone\n Without her husband is a monstrous grief,\n Hearing full many an ill report of him,\n Now one and now another coming still,\n Bringing news home, worse trouble upon bad.\n Yea, if my lord had met as many wounds\n As rumour told of, floating to our house, 840\n He had been riddled more than any net;\n And had he died, as tidings still poured in,\n Then he, a second Geryon[334] with three lives,\n Had boasted of a threefold coverlet\n Of earth above, (I will not say below him,)[335]\n Dying one death for each of those his forms;\n And so, because of all these ill reports,\n Full many a noose around my neck have others\n Loosed by main force, when I had hung myself.\n And for this cause no son is with me now, 850\n Holding in trust the pledges of our love,\n As he should be, Orestes. Wonder not;\n For now a kind ally doth nurture him,\n Strophios the Phokian, telling me of woes\n Of twofold aspect, danger on thy side\n At Ilion, and lest loud-voiced anarchy\n Should overthrow thy council, since 'tis still\n The wont of men to kick at those who fall.\n No trace of guile bears this excuse of mine;\n As for myself, the fountains of my tears\n Have flowed till they are dry, no drop remains, 860\n And mine eyes suffer from o'er-late repose,\n Watching with tears the beacons set for thee,[336]\n Left still unheeded. And in dreams full oft\n I from my sleep was startled by the gnat\n With thin wings buzzing, seeing in the night\n Ills that stretched far beyond the time of sleep.[337]\n Now, having borne all this, with mind at ease,\n I hail my lord as watch-dog of the fold,\n The stay that saves the ship, of lofty roof 870\n Main column-prop, a father's only child,\n Land that beyond all hope the sailor sees,\n Morn of great brightness following after storm,\n Clear-flowing fount to thirsty traveller.[338]\n Yes, it is pleasant to escape all straits:\n With words of welcome such as these I greet thee;\n May jealous Heaven forgive them! for we bore\n Full many an evil in the past; and now,\n Dear husband, leave thy car, nor on the ground,\n O King, set thou the foot that Ilion trampled. 880\n Why linger ye, [_turning to her attendants_,] ye maids, whose task it\n was\n To strew the pathway with your tapestries?\n Let the whole road be straightway purple-strown,\n That Justice lead to home he looked not for.\n All else my care, by slumber not subdued,\n Will with God's help work out what fate decrees.[339]\n\n (_The handmaids advance, and are about to lay the\n purple carpets on the ground_)\n\n _Agam._ O child of Leda, guardian of my home,\n Thy speech hath with my absence well agreed\u2014\n For long indeed thou mad'st it\u2014but fit praise\n Is boon that I must seek at other hands. 890\n I pray thee, do not in thy woman's fashion\n Pamper my pride, nor in barbaric guise\n Prostrate on earth raise full-mouthed cries to me;\n Make not my path offensive to the Gods\n By spreading it with carpets.[340] They alone\n May claim that honour; but for mortal men\n To walk on fair embroidery, to me\n Seems nowise without peril. So I bid you\n To honour me as man, and not as God.\n Apart from all foot-mats and tapestry\n My fame speaks loudly; and God's greatest gift 900\n Is not to err from wisdom. We must bless\n Him only who ends life in fair estate.[341]\n Should I thus act throughout, good hope were mine.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Nay, say not this my purposes to thwart.\n\n _Agam._ Know I change not for the worse my purpose.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ In fear, perchance, thou vow\u00e8d'st thus to act.\n\n _Agam._ If any, I, with good ground spoke my will.[342]\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ What think'st thou Priam, had he wrought such deeds...?\n\n _Agam._ Full gladly he, I trow, had trod on carpets.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Then shrink not thou through fear of men's dispraise.910\n\n _Agam._ And yet a people's whisper hath great might.[343]\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Who is not envied is not enviable.\n\n _Agam._ 'Tis not a woman's part to crave for strife.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ True, yet the prosperous e'en should sometimes yield.\n\n _Agam._ Dost thou then prize that victory in the strife?\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Nay, list; with all good-will yield me this boon.\n\n _Agam._ Well, then, if thou wilt have it so, with speed\n Let some one loose my buskins[344] (servants they\n Doing the foot's true work), and as I tread\n Upon these robes sea-purpled, may no wrath\n From glance of Gods smite on me from afar! 920\n Great shame I feel to trample with my foot\n This wealth of carpets, costliest work of looms;\n So far for this. This stranger [_pointing to_ CASSANDRA] lead thou in\n With kindliness. On him who gently wields\n His power God's eye looks kindly from afar.\n None of their own will choose a bondslave's life;\n And she, the chosen flower of many spoils,\n Has followed with me as the army's gift.\n But since I turn, obeying thee in this,\n I'll to my palace go, on purple treading. 930\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ There is a sea,\u2014and who shall drain it dry?\n Producing still new store of purple juice,\n Precious as silver, staining many a robe.\n And in our house, with God's help, O my king,\n 'Tis ours to boast our palace knows no stint.\n Trampling of many robes would I have vowed,\n Had that been ordered me in oracles,\n When for my lord's return I then did plan\n My votive gifts. For while the root lives on,\n The foliage stretches even to the house,\n And spreads its shade against the dog-star's rage; 940\n So when thou comest to thy hearth and home,\n Thou show'st that warmth hath come in winter time;\n And when from unripe clusters Zeus matures\n The wine,[345] then is there coolness in the house,\n If the true master dwelleth in his home.\n Ah, Zeus! the All-worker, Zeus, work out for me\n All that I pray for; let it be thy care\n To look to what Thou purposest to work.[346]\n\n [_Exeunt_ AGAMEMNON, _walking on the tapestry_,\n CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA, _and her attendants_\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Why thus continually\n Do haunting phantoms hover at the gate\n Of my foreboding heart? 950\n Why floats prophetic song, unbought, unbidden?\n Why doth no steadfast trust\n Sit on my mind's dear throne,\n To fling it from me as a vision dim?\n Long time hath passed since stern-ropes of our ships\n Were fastened on the sand, when our great host\n Of those that sailed in ships\n Had come to Ilion's towers:[347]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n And now from these mine eyes 960\n I learn, myself reporting to myself,\n Their safe return; and yet\n My mind within itself, taught by itself,\n Chanteth Erinnys' dirge,\n The lyreless melody,\n And hath no strength of wonted confidence.\n Not vain these inner pulses, as my heart\n Whirls eddying in breast oracular.\n I, against hope, will pray\n It prove false oracle. 970\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Of high, o'erflowing health\n There is no bound that stays the wish for more,\n For evermore disease, as neighbour close\n Whom but a wall divides,\n Upon it presses; and man's prosperous state\n *Moves on its course, and strikes\n Upon an unseen rock;\n But if his fear for safety of his freight,\n A part, from well-poised sling, shall sacrifice, 980\n Then the whole house sinks not,\n O'erfilled with wretchedness,\n Nor does he swamp his boat:\n So, too, abundant gift\n From Zeus in bounteous fulness, and the fruit\n Of glebe at harvest tide\n Have caused to cease sore hunger's pestilence;\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n But blood that once hath flowed\n In purple stains of death upon the ground\n At a man's feet, who then can bid it back\n By any charm of song?\n Else him who knew to call the dead to life[348]\n *Zeus had not sternly checked, 990\n *As warning unto all;\n But unless Fate, firm-fixed, had barred our fate\n From any chance of succour from the Gods,\n Then had my heart poured forth\n Its thoughts, outstripping speech.[349]\n But now in gloom it wails\n Sore vexed, with little hope\n At any time hereafter fitting end 1000\n To find, unravelling,\n My soul within me burning with hot thoughts.\n\n _Re-enter_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ [_to_ CASSANDRA, _who has remained in the\n chariot during the choral ode_]\n Thou too\u2014I mean Cassandra\u2014go within;\n Since Zeus hath made it thine, and not in wrath,\n To share the lustral waters in our house,\n Standing with many a slave the altar nigh\n Of Zeus, who guards our goods.[350] Now get thee down\n From out this car, nor look so over proud.\n They say that e'en Alcmena's son endured[351]\n Being sold a slave, constrained to bear the yoke:\n And if the doom of this ill chance should come,\n Great boon it is to meet with lords who own\n Ancestral wealth. But whoso reap full crops 1010\n They never dared to hope for, these in all,\n And beyond measure, to their slaves are harsh:[352]\n From us thou hast what usage doth prescribe.\n\n _Chor._ So ends she, speaking words full clear to thee:\n And seeing thou art in the toils of fate,\n If thou obey, thou wilt obey; and yet,\n Perchance, obey thou wilt not.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Nay, but unless she, like a swallow, speaks\n A barbarous tongue unknown, I speaking now\n Within her apprehension, bid obey. 1020\n\n _Chor._ [_to_ CASSANDRA, _still standing motionless_] Go with her. What\n she bids is now the best;\n Obey her: leave thy seat upon this car.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ I have no leisure here to stay without:\n For as regards our central altar, there\n The sheep stand by as victims for the fire;\n For never had we hoped such thanks to give:\n If thou wilt do this, make no more delay;\n But if thou understandest not my words,\n Then wave thy foreign hand in lieu of speech.\n\n [CASSANDRA _shudders as in horror, but\n makes no sign_\n\n _Chor._ The stranger seems a clear interpreter\n To need. Her look is like a captured deer's. 1030\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Nay, she is mad, and follows evil thoughts,\n Since, leaving now her city, newly-captured,\n She comes, and knows not how to take the curb,\n Ere she foam out her passion in her blood.\n I will not bear the shame of uttering more. [_Exit_\n\n _Chor._ And I\u2014I pity her, and will not rage:\n Come, thou poor sufferer, empty leave thy car;\n Yield to thy doom, and handsel now the yoke.\n\n [CASSANDRA _leaves the chariot, and bursts\n into a cry of wailing_\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Cass._ Woe! woe, and well-a-day!\n Apollo! O Apollo! 1040\n\n _Chor._ Why criest thou so loud on Loxias?\n The wailing cry of mourner suits not him.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Cass._ Woe! woe, and well-a-day!\n Apollo! O Apollo!\n\n _Chor._ Again with boding words she calls the God,\n Though all unmeet as helper to men's groans.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Cass._ Apollo! O Apollo!\n God of all paths, Apollo true to me;\n For still thou dost appal me and destroy.[353]\n\n _Chor._ She seems her own ills like to prophesy: 1050\n The God's great gift is in the slave's mind yet.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Cass._ Apollo! O Apollo!\n God of all paths, Apollo true to me;\n What path hast led me? To what roof hast brought?\n\n _Chor._ To that of the Atreid\u00e6. This I tell,\n If thou know'st not. Thou wilt not find it false.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n _Cass._ Ah! Ah! Ah me!\n Say rather to a house God hates\u2014that knows\n Murder, self-slaughter, ropes,[354]\n *A human shamble, staining earth with blood. 1060\n\n _Chor._ Keen scented seems this stranger, like a hound,\n And sniffs to see whose murder she may find.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n _Cass._ Ah! Ah! Ah me!\n Lo! [_looking wildly, and pointing to the house_,] there the witnesses\n whose word I trust,\u2014\n Those babes who wail their death,\n The roasted flesh that made a father's meal.\n\n _Chor._ We of a truth had heard thy seeress fame,\n But prophets now are not the race we seek.[355]\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n _Cass._ Ah me! O horror! What ill schemes she now?\n What is this new great woe? 1070\n Great evil plots she in this very house,\n Hard for its friends to bear, immedicable;\n And help stands far aloof.\n\n _Chor._ These oracles of thine surpass my ken;\n Those I know well. The whole town rings with them.[356]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n _Cass._ Ah me! O daring one! what work'st thou here,\n Who having in his bath\n Tended thy spouse, thy lord, then ... How tell the rest?\n For quick it comes, and hand is following hand,\n Stretched out to strike the blow. 1080\n\n _Chor._ Still I discern not; after words so dark\n I am perplexed with thy dim oracles.\n\n\n STROPHE V\n\n _Cass._ Ah, horror, horror! What is this I see?\n Is it a snare of Hell?\n Nay, the true net is she who shares his bed,\n Who shares in working death.\n Ha! let the Band insatiable in hate[357]\n Howl for the race its wild exulting cry\n O'er sacrifice that calls\n For death by storm of stones.\n\n\n STROPHE VI\n\n _Chor._ What dire Erinnys bidd'st thou o'er our house\n To raise shrill cry? Thy speech but little cheers;\n And to my heart there rush\n Blood-drops of saffron hue,[358] 1090\n *Which, when from deadly wound\n They fall, together with life's setting rays\n End, as it fails, their own appointed course:\n And mischief comes apace.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE V\n\n _Cass._ See, see, I say, from that fell heifer there\n Keep thou the bull:[359] in robes\n Entangling him, she with her weapon gores\n Him with the swarthy horns;[360]\n Lo! in that bath with water filled he falls,\n Smitten to death, and I to thee set forth\n Crime of a bath of blood,\n By murderous guile devised.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VI\n\n _Chor._ I may not boast that I keen insight have\n In words oracular; yet bode I ill. 1100\n What tidings good are brought\n By any oracles\n To mortal men? These arts,\n In days of evil sore, with many words,\n Do still but bring a vague, portentous fear\n For men to learn and know.\n\n\n STROPHE VII\n\n _Cass._ Woe, woe! for all sore ills that fall on me!\n It is my grief thou speak'st of, blending it\n With his.[361] [_Pausing, and then crying out_.]\n Ah! wherefore then\n Hast thou[362] thus brought me here,\n Only to die with thee?\n What other doom is mine?\n\n\n STROPHE VIII\n\n _Chor._ Frenzied art thou, and by some God's might swayed, 1110\n And utterest for thyself\n A melody which is no melody,\n Like to that tawny one,\n Insatiate in her wail,\n The nightingale, who still with sorrowing soul,\n And \u201cItys, Itys,\u201d cry,[363]\n Bemoans a life o'erflourishing in ills.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VII\n\n _Cass._ Ah, for the doom of clear-voiced nightingale!\n The Gods gave her a body bearing wings,\n And life of pleasant days\n With no fresh cause to weep:\n But for me waiteth still\n Stroke from the two-edged sword.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VIII\n\n _Chor._ From what source hast thou these dread agonies\n Sent on thee by thy God,\n Yet vague and little meaning; and thy cries 1120\n Dire with ill-omened shrieks\n Dost utter as a chant,\n And blendest with them strains of shrillest grief?\n Whence treadest thou this track\n Of evil-boding path of prophecy?\n\n\n STROPHE IX\n\n _Cass._ Woe for the marriage-ties, the marriage-ties\n Of Paris that brought ruin on his friends!\n Woe for my native stream,\n Scamandros, that I loved!\n Once on thy banks my maiden youth was reared,\n (Ah, miserable me!)\n Now by Cokytos and by Acheron's shores\n I seem too likely soon to utter song\n Of wild, prophetic speech.\n\n\n STROPHE X\n\n _Chor._ What hast thou spoken now\n With utterance all too clear?\n *Even a boy its gist might understand;\n I to the quick am pierced\n With throe of deadly pain,\n Whilst thou thy moaning cries art uttering\n Over thy sore mischance,\n Wondrous for me to hear.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IX\n\n _Cass._ Woe for the toil and trouble, toil and trouble\n Of city that is utterly destroyed!\n Woe for the victims slain\n Of herds that roamed the fields, 1140\n My father's sacrifice to save his towers!\n No healing charm they brought\n To save the city from its present doom:\n And I with hot thoughts wild myself shall cast\n Full soon upon the ground.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE X\n\n _Chor._ This that thou utterest now\n With all before agrees.\n Some Power above dooms thee with purpose ill,\n Down-swooping heavily,\n To utter with thy voice\n Sorrows of deepest woe, and bringing death.\n And what the end shall be\n Perplexes in the extreme.\n\n _Cass._ Nay, now no more from out of maiden veils\n My oracle shall glance, like bride fresh wed;[364] 1150\n But seems as though 'twould rush with speedy gales\n In full, clear brightness to the morning dawn;\n So that a greater war than this shall surge\n Like wave against the sunlight.[365] Now I'll teach\n No more in parables. Bear witness ye,\n As running with me, that I scent the track\n Of evil deeds that long ago were wrought:\n For never are they absent from this house,\n That choral band which chants in full accord,\n Yet no good music; good is not their theme.\n And now, as having drunk men's blood,[366] and so\n Grown wilder, bolder, see, the revelling band, 1160\n Erinnyes of the race, still haunt the halls,\n Not easy to dismiss. And so they sing,\n Close cleaving to the house, its primal woe,[367]\n And vent their loathing in alternate strains\n On marriage-bed of brother ruthless found\n To that defiler. *Miss I now, or hit,\n Like archer skilled? or am I seeress false,\n A babbler vain that knocks at every door?\n Yea, swear beforehand, ere I die, I know\n (And not by rumour only) all the sins\n Of ancient days that haunt and vex this house.\n\n _Chor._ How could an oath, how firm soe'er confirmed,\n Bring aught of healing? Lo, I marvel at thee, 1170\n That thou, though born far off beyond the sea,\n Should'st tell an alien city's tale as clear\n As though thyself had stood by all the while.\n\n _Cass._ The seer Apollo set me to this task.\n\n _Chor._ Was he a God, so smitten with desire?\n\n _Cass._ There was a time when shame restrained my speech.\n\n _Chor._ True; they who prosper still are shy and coy.\n\n _Cass._ He wrestled hard, breathing hot love on me.\n\n _Chor._ And were ye one in act whence children spring?\n\n _Cass._ I promised Loxias, then I broke my vow.\n\n _Chor._ Wast thou e'en then possessed with arts divine? 1180\n\n _Cass._ E'en then my country's woes I prophesied.\n\n _Chor._ How wast thou then unscathed by Loxias' wrath?\n\n _Cass._ I for that fault with no man gained belief.\n\n _Chor._ To us, at least, thou seem'st to speak the truth.\n\n _Cass._ [_Again speaking wildly, as in an ecstasy._] Ah, woe is me!\n Woe's me! Oh, ills on ills!\n Again the dread pang of true prophet's gift\n With preludes of great evil dizzies me.\n See ye those children sitting on the house\n In fashion like to phantom forms of dreams? 1190\n Infants who perished at their own kin's hands,\n Their palms filled full with meat of their own flesh,\n Loom on my sight, the heart and entrails bearing,\n (A sorry burden that!) on which of old\n Their father fed.[368] And in revenge for this,\n I say a lion, dwelling in his lair,\n With not a spark of courage, stay-at-home,\n Plots 'gainst my master, now he's home returned,\n (Yes mine\u2014for still I must the slave's yoke bear;)\n And the ship's ruler, Ilion's conqueror,\n Knows not what things the tongue of that lewd bitch\n Has spoken and spun out in welcome smooth, 1200\n And, like a secret At\u00e8, will work out\n With dire success: thus 'tis she plans: the man\n Is murdered by the woman. By what name\n Shall I that loath\u00e8d monster rightly call?\n An Amphisb\u00e6na? or a Skylla dwelling[369]\n Among the rocks, the sailors' enemy?\n Hades' fierce raging mother, breathing out\n Against her friends a curse implacable?\n Ah, how she raised her cry, (oh, daring one!)\n As for the rout of battle, and she feigns\n To hail with joy her husband's safe return!\n And if thou dost not credit this, what then?\n What will be will. Soon, present, pitying me 1210\n Thou'lt own I am too true a prophetess.\n\n _Chor._ Thyestes' banquet on his children's flesh\n I know and shudder at, and fear o'ercomes me,\n Hearing not counterfeits of fact, but truths;\n Yet in the rest I hear and miss my path.\n\n _Cass._ I say thou'lt witness Agamemnon's death.\n\n _Chor._ Hush, wretched woman, close those lips of thine!\n\n _Cass._ For this my speech no healing God's at hand.\n\n _Chor._ True, if it must be; but may God avert it! 1220\n\n _Cass._ Thou utterest prayers, but others murder plot.\n\n _Chor._ And by what man is this dire evil wrought?\n\n _Cass._ Sure, thou hast seen my bodings all amiss.\n\n _Chor._ I see not his device who works the deed.\n\n _Cass._ And yet I speak the Hellenic tongue right well.\n\n _Chor._ So does the Pythian, yet her words are hard.\n\n _Cass._ [_In another access of frenzy._] Ah me, this fire!\n It comes upon me now!\n Ah me, Apollo, wolf-slayer! woe is me!\n This biped lioness who takes to bed\n A wolf in absence of the noble lion, 1230\n Will slay me, wretched me. And, as one\n Mixing a poisoned draught, she boasts that she\n Will put my price into her cup of wrath,\n Sharpening her sword to smite her spouse with death,\n So paying him for bringing me. Oh, why\n Do I still wear what all men flout and scorn,\n My wand and seeress wreaths around my neck?[370]\n Thee, ere myself I die I will destroy: [_breaks her wand_]\n Perish ye thus: [_casting off her wreaths_] I soon shall follow you:\n Make rich another At\u00e8[371] in my place;\n Behold Apollo's self is stripping me 1240\n Of my divining garments, and that too,\n When he has seen me even in this garb\n Scorned without cause among my friends and kin,\n *By foes, with no diversity of mood.\n Reviled as vagrant, wandering prophetess,\n Poor, wretched, famished, I endured to live:\n And now the Seer who me a seeress made\n Hath brought me to this lot of deadly doom.\n Now for my father's altar there awaits me\n A butcher's block, where I am smitten down\n By slaughtering stroke, and with hot gush of blood.\n But the Gods will not slight us when we're dead; 1250\n Another yet shall come as champion for us,\n A son who slays his mother, to avenge\n His father; and the exiled wanderer\n Far from his home, shall one day come again,\n Upon these woes to set the coping-stone:\n For the high Gods have sworn a mighty oath,\n His father's fall, laid low, shall bring him back.\n Why then do I thus groan in this new home,[372]\n When, to begin with, Ilion's town I saw\n Faring as it did fare, and they who held\n That town are gone by judgment of the Gods? 1260\n I too will fare as they, and venture death:\n So I these gates of Hades now address,\n And pray for blow that bringeth death at once,\n That so with no fierce spasm, while the blood\n Flows in calm death, I then may close mine eyes.\n\n [_Goes towards the door of the palace_\n\n _Chor._ O thou most wretched, yet again most wise:\n Long hast thou spoken, lady, but if well\n Thou know'st thy doom, why to the altar go'st thou,\n Like heifer driven of God, so confidently?[373] 1270\n\n _Cass._ For me, my friends, there is no time to 'scape.[374]\n\n _Chor._ Yea; but he gains in time who comes the last.\n\n _Cass._ The day is come: small gain for me in flight.\n\n _Chor._ Know then thou sufferest with a heart full brave.\n\n _Cass._ Such words as these the happy never hear.\n\n _Chor._ Yet mortal man may welcome noble death.\n\n _Cass._ [_Shrinking back from opening the door._] Woe's me for thee and\n thy brave sons, my father![375]\n\n _Chor._ What cometh now? What fear oppresseth thee?\n\n _Cass._ [_Again going to the door and then shuddering in another burst\n of frenzy._] Fie on't, fie!\n\n _Chor._ Whence comes this \u201cFie?\u201d unless from mind that loathes?\n\n _Cass._ The house is tainted with the scent of death. 1280\n\n _Chor._ How so? This smells of victims on the hearth.\n\n _Cass._ Nay, it is like the blast from out a grave.\n\n _Chor._ No Syrian ritual tell'st thou for our house.[376]\n\n _Cass._ Well then I go, and e'en within will wail\n My fate and Agamemnon's. And for me,\n Enough of life. Ah, friends! Ah! not for nought\n I shrink in fear, as bird shrinks from the brake.[377]\n When I am dead do ye this witness bear,\n When in revenge for me, a woman, Death\n A woman smites, and man shall fall for man 1290\n In evil wedlock wed. This friendly office,\n As one about to die, I pray you do me.\n\n _Chor._ Thy doom foretold, poor sufferer, moves my pity.\n\n _Cass._ I fain would speak once more, yet not to wail\n Mine own death-song; but to the Sun I pray,\n To his last rays, that my avengers wreak\n Upon my hated murderers judgment due\n For me, who die a slave's death, easy prey.\n Ah, life of man! when most it prospereth,\n *It is but limned in outline;[378] and when brought\n To low estate, then doth the sponge, full soaked, 1300\n Wipe out the picture with its frequent touch:\n And this I count more piteous e'en than that.[379]\n\n [_Passes through the door into the palace_\n\n _Chor._ 'Tis true of all men that they never set\n A limit to good fortune; none doth say,\n As bidding it depart,\n *And warding it from palaces of pride,\n \u201cEnter thou here no more.\u201d\n To this our lord the Blest Ones gave to take\n Priam's city; and he comes\n Safe to his home and honoured by the Gods;\n But if he now shall pay\n The forfeit of blood-guiltiness of old,\n And, dying, so work out for those who died,\n By his own death another penalty, 1310\n Who then of mortal men,\n Hearing such things as this,\n Can boast that he was born\n With fate from evil free?\n\n _Agam._ [_from within._] Ah, me! I am struck down with deadly stroke.\n\n _Chor._ Hush! who cries out with deadly stroke sore smitten?\n\n _Agam._ Ah me, again! struck down a second time!\n\n [_Dies_\n\n _Chor._ By the king's groans I judge the deed is done;\n But let us now confer for counsels safe.[380]\n\n _Chor. a._ I give you my advice to summon here,\n Here to the palace, all the citizens. 1320\n\n _Chor. b._ I think it best to rush at once on them,\n And take them in the act with sword yet wet.\n\n _Chor. c._ And I too give like counsel, and I vote\n For deed of some kind. 'Tis no time to pause.\n\n _Chor. d._ Who will see, may.\u2014They but the prelude work\n Of tyranny usurped o'er all the State.\n\n _Chor. e._ Yes, we are slow, but they who trample down\n The thought of hesitation slumber not.\n\n _Chor. f._ I know not what advice to find or speak:\n He who can act knows how to counsel too. 1330\n\n _Chor. g._ I too think with thee; for I have no hope\n With words to raise the dead again to life.\n\n _Chor. h._ What! Shall we drag our life on and submit\n To these usurpers that defile the house?\n\n _Chor. i._ Nay, that we cannot bear: To die were better;\n For death is gentler far than tyranny.\n\n _Chor. k._ Shall we upon this evidence of groans\n Guess, as divining that our lord is dead?\n\n _Chor. l._ When we know clearly, then should we discuss:\n To guess is one thing, and to know another. 1340\n\n _Chor._[381] So vote I too, and on the winning side,\n Taking the votes all round that we should learn\n How he, the son of Atreus, fareth now.\n\n _Enter_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA _from the palace, in robes with stains of blood,\n followed by soldiers and attendants. The open doors show the\n corpses of_ AGAMEMNON _and_ CASSANDRA, _the former lying in a\n silvered bath_\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Though many words before to suit the time\n Were spoken, now I shall not be ashamed\n The contrary to utter: How could one\n By open show of enmity to foes\n Who seemed as friends, fence in the snares of death\n Too high to be o'erleapt? But as for me,\n Not without forethought for this long time past,\n This conflict comes to me from triumph old[382]\n Of his, though slowly wrought. I stand where I 1350\n Did smite him down, with all my task well done.\n So did I it, (the deed deny I not,)\n That he could nor avert his doom nor flee:\n I cast around him drag-net as for fish,\n With not one outlet, evil wealth of robe:\n And twice I smote him, and with two deep groans\n He dropped his limbs: And when he thus fell down\n I gave him yet a third, thank-offering true[383]\n To Hades of the dark, who guards the dead.\n So fallen, he gasps out his struggling soul,\n And breathing forth a sharp, quick gush of blood,\n He showers dark drops of gory rain on me, 1360\n Who no less joy felt in them than the corn,\n When the blade bears, in glad shower given of God.\n Since this is so, ye Argive elders here,\n Ye, as ye will, may hail the deed, but I\n Boast of it. And were't fitting now to pour\n Libation o'er the dead,[384] 'twere justly done,\n Yea more than justly; such a goblet full,\n Of ills hath he filled up with curses dire\n At home, and now has come to drain it off.\n\n _Chor._ We marvel at the boldness of thy tongue 1370\n Who o'er thy husband's corpse speak'st vaunt like this.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Ye test me as a woman weak of mind;\n But I with dauntless heart to you that know\n Say this, and whether thou dost praise or blame,\n Is all alike:\u2014here Agamemnon lies,\n My husband, now a corpse, of this right hand,\n As artist just, the handiwork: so stands it.\n\n\n STROPHE\n\n _Chor._ What evil thing, O Queen, or reared on earth,\n Or draught from salt sea-wave 1380\n Hast thou fed on, to bring\n Such incense on thyself,[385]\n A people's loud-voiced curse?\n 'Twas thou did'st sentence him,\n 'Twas thou did'st strike him down;\n But thou shall exiled be,\n Hated with strong hate of the citizens.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Ha! now on me thou lay'st the exile's doom,\n My subjects' hate, and people's loud-voiced curse,\n Though ne'er did'st thou oppose my husband there,\n Who, with no more regard than had been due\n To a brute's death, although he called his own\n Full many a fleecy sheep in pastures bred,\n Yet sacrificed his child, the dear-loved fruit 1390\n Of all my travail-pangs, to be a charm\n Against the winds of Thrakia. Shouldst thou not\n Have banished him from out this land of ours,\n As meed for all his crimes? Yet hearing now\n My deeds, thou art a judge full stern. But I\n Tell thee to speak thy threats, as knowing well\n I am prepared that thou on equal terms\n Should'st rule, if thou dost conquer. But if God\n Should otherwise decree, then thou shall learn,\n Late though it be, the lesson to be wise.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE\n\n _Chor._ Yea, thou art stout of heart, and speak'st big words;1400\n And maddened is thy soul\n As by a murderous hate;\n And still upon thy brow\n Is seen, not yet avenged,\n The stain of blood-spot foul;\n And yet it needs must be,\n One day thou, reft of friends,\n Shall pay the penalty of blow for blow.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Now hear thou too my oaths of solemn dread:\n By my accomplished vengeance for my child,\n By At\u00e8 and Erinnys, unto whom\n I slew him as a victim, I look not\n That fear should come beneath this roof of mine,\n So long as on my hearth \u00c6gisthos kindles 1410\n The flaming fire, as well disposed to me\n As he hath been aforetime. He to us\n Is no slight shield of stoutest confidence.\n There lies he, [_pointing to the corpse of_ AGAMEMNON,] one who foully\n wronged his wife,\n The darling of the Chryse\u00efds at Tro\u00efa;\n And there [_pointing to_ CASSANDRA] this captive slave, this auguress,\n His concubine, this seeress trustworthy,\n *Who shared his bed, and yet was as well known\n To the sailors as their benches!... They have fared\n Not otherwise than they deserved: for he\n Lies as you see. And she who, like a swan,[386]\n Has chanted out her last and dying song, 1420\n Lies close to him she loved, and so has brought\n The zest of a new pleasure to my bed.\n\n\n STROPHE I[387]\n\n _Chor._ Ah me, would death might come\n Quickly, with no sharp throe of agony,\n Nor long bed-ridden pain,\n Bringing the endless sleep;\n Since he, the watchman most benign of all,\n Hath now been smitten low,\n And by a woman's means hath much endured,\n And at a woman's hand hath lost his life!\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Alas! alas! O Helen, evil-souled, 1430\n Who, though but one, hast slain\n Many, yea, very many lives at Tro\u00efa.[388]\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n *But now for blood that may not be washed out\n *Thou hast to full bloom brought\n *A deed of guilt for ever memorable,\n For strife was in the house,\n Wrought out in fullest strength,\n Woe for a husband's life.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Nay, pray not thou for destiny of death,\n Oppressed with what thou see'st;\n Nor turn thou against Helena thy wrath, 1440\n As though she murderess were,\n And, though but one, had many Dana\u00ef's souls\n Brought low in death, and wrought o'erwhelming woe.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ O Power that dost attack\n Our palace and the two Tantalid\u00e6,[389]\n *And dost through women wield\n *A might that grieves my heart![390]\n And o'er the body, like a raven foul,\n Against all laws of right,\n *Standing, she boasteth in her pride of heart[391]\n That she can chant her p\u00e6an hymn of praise. 1450\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Now thou dost guide aright thy speech and thought,\n Invoking that dread Power,\n *The thrice-gorged evil genius of this house;\n For he it is who feeds\n In the heart's depth the raging lust of blood:\n Ere the old wound is healed, new bloodshed comes.\n\n\n STROPHE V\n\n _Chor._ Yes, of a Power thou tell'st\n *Mighty and very wrathful to this house;\n Ah me! ah me! an evil tale enough 1460\n Of baleful chance of doom,\n Insatiable of ill:\n Yet, ah! it is through Zeus,\n The all-appointing and all-working One;\n For what with mortal men\n Is wrought apart from Zeus?\n What of all this is not by God decreed?[392]\n\n\n STROPHE VI\n\n Ah me! ah me!\n My king, my king, how shall I weep for thee?\n What shall I speak from heart that truly loves?\n And now thou liest there, breathing out thy life, 1470\n In impious deed of death,\n In this fell spider's web,\u2014\n\n\n STROPHE VII\n\n (Yes, woe is me! woe, woe!\n Woe for this couch of thine dishonourable!)\u2014\n Slain by a subtle death,[393]\n With sword two-edged which her right hand did wield.\n\n\n STROPHE VIII\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Thou speak'st big words, as if the deed were mine;\n Yet think thou not of me,\n As Agamemnon's spouse;\n But in the semblance of this dead man's wife,\n The old and keen Avenger of the house\n Of Atreus, that cruel banqueter of old,\n Hath wrought out vengeance full\n On him who lieth here, 1480\n And full-grown victim slain\n Over the younger victims of the past.[394]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE V\n\n _Chor._ That thou art guiltless found\n Of this foul murder who will witness bear?\n How can it be so, how? And yet, perchance,\n As helper to the deed,\n Might come the avenging Fiend\n Of that ancestral time;\n And in this rush of murders of near kin\n Dark Ares presses on,\n Where he will vengeance work\n For clotted gore of children slain as food. 1490\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VI\n\n Ah me! ah me!\n My king, my king, how shall I weep for thee?\n What shall I speak from heart that truly loves?\n And now thou liest there, breathing out thy life,\n In impious deed of death,\n In this fell spider's web,\u2014\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VII\n\n (Yes, woe is me! woe, woe!\n Woe for this couch of thine dishonourable!)\u2014\n Slain by a subtle death,\n With sword two-edged which her right hand did wield.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VIII\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Nay, not dishonourable\n His death doth seem to me:\n Did he not work a doom,\n In this our house with guile?[395] 1500\n Mine own dear child, begotten of this man,\n Iphigeneia, wept with many a tear,\n He slew; now slain himself in recompense,\n Let him not boast in Hell,\n Since he the forfeit pays,\n Pierced by the sword in death,\n For all the evil that his hand began.\n\n\n STROPHE IX\n\n _Chor._ I stand perplexed in soul, deprived of power\n Of quick and ready thought,\n Where now to turn, since thus 1510\n Our home is falling low.\n I shrink in fear from the fierce pelting storm\n Of blood that shakes the basement of the house:\n No more it rains in drops:\n And for another deed of mischief dire,\n Fate whets the righteous doom\n On other whetstones still.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n O Earth! O Earth! Oh, would thou had'st received me,\n Ere I saw him on couch\n Of bath with silvered walls thus stretched in death!\n Who now will bury him, who wail? Wilt thou,\n When thou hast slain thy husband, have the heart 1520\n To mourn his death, and for thy monstrous deeds\n Do graceless grace? And who will chant the dirge\n With tears in truth of heart,\n Over our godlike chief?\n\n\n STROPHE X\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ It is not thine to speak;\n 'Twas at our hands he fell,\n Yea, he fell low in death,\n And we will bury him, 1530\n Not with the bitter tears of those who weep\n As inmates of the house;\n But she, his child, Iphigeneia, there\n Shall meet her father, and with greeting kind,\n E'en as is fit, by that swift-flowing ford,\n Dark stream of bitter woes,\n Shall clasp him in her arms,\n And give a daughter's kiss.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IX\n\n _Chor._ Lo! still reproach upon reproach doth come;\n Hard are these things to judge:\n The spoiler still is spoiled,\n The slayer pays his debt;\n Yea, while Zeus liveth through the ages, this 1540\n Lives also, that the doer dree his weird;\n For this is law fast fixed.\n Who now can drive from out the kingly house\n The brood of curses dark?\n The race to At\u00e8 cleaves.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE X\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Yes, thou hast touched with truth\n That word oracular;\n But I for my part wish,\n (Binding with strongest oath\n The evil d\u00e6mon of the Pleisthenids,)[396]\n Though hard it be to bear,\n To rest content with this our present lot;\n And, for the future, that he go to vex\n Another race with homicidal deaths. 1550\n Lo! 'tis enough for me,\n Though small my share of wealth,\n At last to have freed my house\n From madness that sets each man's hand 'gainst each.\n\n _Enter_ \u00c6GISTHOS\n\n _\u00c6gis._ Hail, kindly light of day that vengeance brings!\n Now I can say the Gods on high look down,\n Avenging men, upon the woes of earth,\n Since lying in the robes the Erinnyes wove\n I see this man, right welcome sight to me,\n Paying for deeds his father's hand had wrought. 1560\n Atreus, our country's ruler, this man's father,\n Drove out my sire Thyestes, his own brother,\n (To tell the whole truth,) quarrelling for rule,\n An exile from his country and his home.\n And coming back a suppliant on the hearth,\n The poor Thyestes found a lot secure,\n Nor did he, dying, stain the soil with blood,\n There in his home. But this man's godless sire,[397]\n Atreus, more prompt than kindly in his deeds,\n On plea of keeping festal day with cheer,\n To my sire banquet gave of children's flesh, 1570\n His own. The feet and finger-tips of hands\n *He, sitting at the top, apart concealed;\n And straight the other, in his blindness taking\n The parts that could not be discerned, did eat\n A meal which, as thou see'st, perdition works\n For all his kin. And learning afterwards\n The deed of dread, he groaned and backward fell,\n Vomits the feast of blood, and imprecates\n On Pelops' sons a doom intolerable,\n And makes the o'erturning of the festive board,\n With fullest justice, as a general curse,\n That so might fall the race of Pleisthenes. 1580\n And now thou see'st how here accordingly\n This man lies fallen; I, of fullest right,\n The weaver of the plot of murderous doom.\n For me, a babe in swaddling-clothes, he banished\n With my poor father, me, his thirteenth child;\n And Vengeance brought me back, of full age grown:\n And e'en far off I wrought against this man,\n And planned the whole scheme of this dark device.\n And so e'en death were now right good for me,\n Seeing him into the nets of Vengeance fallen.\n\n _Chor._ I honour not this arrogance in guilt, 1590\n \u00c6gisthos. Thou confessest thou hast slain\n Of thy free will our chieftain here,\u2014that thou\n Alone did'st plot this murder lamentable;\n Be sure, I say, thy head shall not escape\n The righteous curse a people hurls with stones.\n\n _\u00c6gisth._ Dost thou say this, though seated on the bench\n Of lowest oarsmen, while the upper row\n Commands the ship?[398] But thou shalt find, though old,\n How hard it is at such an age to learn,\n When the word is, \u201ckeep temper.\u201d But a prison\n And fasting pains are admirably apt, 1600\n As prophet-healers even for old age.\n Dost see, and not see this? Against the pricks\n Kick not,[399] lest thou perchance should'st smart for it.\n\n _Chor._ Thou, thou, O Queen, when thy lord came from war,\n While keeping house, thy husband's bed defiling,\n Did'st scheme this death for this our hero-chief.\n\n _\u00c6gisth._ These words of thine shall parents prove of tears:\n But this thy tongue is Orpheus' opposite;\n He with his voice led all things on for joy,\n But thou, provoking with thy childish cries,\n Shalt now be led; and then, being kept in check,\n Thou shall appear in somewhat gentler mood. 1610\n\n _Chor._ As though thou should'st o'er Argives ruler be,\n Who even when thou plotted'st this man's death\n Did'st lack good heart to do the deed thyself?\n\n _\u00c6gisth._ E'en so; to work this fraud was clearly part\n Fit for a woman. I was foe, of old\n Suspected. But now will I with his wealth\n See whether I his subjects may command,\n And him who will not hearken I will yoke\n In heavy harness as a full-fed colt,\n Nowise as trace-horse;[400] but sharp hunger joined\n With darksome dungeon shall behold him tamed. 1620\n\n _Chor._ Why did'st not thou then, coward as thou art,\n Thyself destroy him? but a woman with thee,\n Pollution to our land and our land's Gods,\n She slew him. Does Orestes see the light,\n Perchance, that he, brought back by Fortune's grace,\n May for both these prove slayer strong to smite?\n\n _\u00c6gisth._ Well, since thou think'st to act, not merely talk,\n Thou shall know clearly....\n\n [_Calling his Guards from the palace_\n\n On then, my troops, the time for deeds is come.\n\n _Chor._ On then, let each man grasp his sword in hand.\n\n _\u00c6gisth._ With sword in hand, I too shrink not from death. 1630\n\n _Chor._ Thou talkest of thy death; we hail the word;\n And make our own the fortune it implies.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Nay, let us not do other evil deeds,\n Thou dearest of all friends. An ill-starred harvest\n It is to have reaped so many. Enough of woe:\n Let no more blood be shed: Go thou\u2014[_to the Chorus_]\u2014go ye,\n Ye aged sires, to your allotted homes,\n Ere ye do aught amiss and dree your weird:\n *This that we have done ought to have sufficed;\n But should it prove we've had enough of ills,\n We will accept it gladly, stricken low\n In evil doom by heavy hand of God.\n This is a woman's counsel, if there be\n That deigns to hear it.\n\n _\u00c6gisth._ But that these should fling\n The blossoms of their idle speech at me, 1640\n And utter words like these, so tempting Fate,\n And fail of counsel wise, and flout their master...!\n\n _Chor._ It suits not Argives on the vile to fawn.\n\n _\u00c6gisth._ Be sure, hereafter I will hunt thee down.\n\n _Chor._ Not so, if God should guide Orestes back.\n\n _\u00c6gisth._ Right well I know how exiles feed on hopes.\n\n _Chor._ Prosper, wax fat, do foul wrong\u2014'tis thy day.\n\n _\u00c6gisth._ Know thou shalt pay full price for this thy folly.\n\n _Chor._ Be bold, and boast, like cock beside his mate.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Nay, care not thou for these vain howlings; I\n And thou together, ruling o'er the house,\n Will settle all things rightly. [_Exeunt_\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 271:\n\n The form of gambling from which the phrase is taken, had clearly\n become common in Attica among the class to which the watchman was\n supposed to belong, and had given rise to proverbial phrases like that\n in the text. The Greeks themselves supposed it to have been invented\n by the Lydians (Herod. i. 94), or Palamedes, one of the heroes of the\n tale of Tro\u00efa, but it enters also into Egyptian legends (Herod. ii.\n 122), and its prevalence from remote antiquity in the farther East, as\n in the Indian story of Nala and Damayanti, makes it probable that it\n originated there. The game was commonly played, as the phrase shows,\n with three dice, the highest throw being that which gave three sixes.\n \u00c6schylos, it may be noted, appears in a lost drama, which bore the\n title of _Palamedes_, to have brought the game itself into his plot.\n It is referred to, as invented by that hero, in a fragment of\n Sophocles (_Fr._ 380), and again in the proverb,\u2014\n\n \u201cThe dice of Zeus have ever lucky throws.\u201d\u2014(_Fr._ 763.)\n\nFootnote 272:\n\n Here, also, the watchman takes up another common proverbial phrase,\n belonging to the same group as that of \u201ckicking against the pricks\u201d in\n v. 1624. He has his reasons for silence, weighty as would be the tread\n of an ox to close his lips.\n\nFootnote 273:\n\n The vultures stand, _i.e._, to the rulers of Heaven, in the same\n relation as the foreign sojourners in Athens, the _Metoics_, did to\n the citizens under whose protection they placed themselves.\n\nFootnote 274:\n\n Alexandros, the other name of Paris, the seducer of Helen.\n\nFootnote 275:\n\n The words, perhaps, refer to the grief of Menelaos, as leading him to\n neglect the wonted sacrifices to Zeus, but it seems better to see in\n them a reference to the sin of Paris. He, at least, who had carried\n off his host's wife, had not offered acceptable sacrifices, had\n neglected all sacrifices to Zeus Xenios, the God of host and guest.\n The allusion to the sacrifice of Iphigeneia, which some (Donaldson and\n Paley) have found here, and the wrath of Clyt\u00e6mnestra, which Agamemnon\n will fail to soothe, seems more far-fetched.\n\nFootnote 276:\n\n An allusion, such as the audience would catch and delight in, to the\n well-known enigma of the Sphinx. See Sophocles (_Trans._), p. 1.\n\nFootnote 277:\n\n The Chorus, though too old to take part in the expedition, are yet\n able to tell both of what passed as the expedition started, and of the\n terrible fulfilment of the omens which they had seen. The two eagles\n are, of course, in the symbolism of prophecy, the two chieftains,\n Menelaos and Agamemnon. The \u201cwhite feathers\u201d of the one may point to\n the less heroic character of Menelaos: so in v. 123, they are of\n \u201cdiverse mood.\u201d The hare whom they devour is, in the first instance,\n Tro\u00efa, and so far the omen is good, portending the success of the\n expedition; but, as Artemis hates the fierceness of the eagles, so\n there is, in the eyes of the seer, a dark token of danger from her\n wrath against the Atreid\u00e6. Either their victory will be sullied by\n cruelty which will bring down vengeance, or else there is some secret\n sin in the past which must be atoned for by a terrible sacrifice. In\n the legend followed by Sophocles (_Electr._ 566), Agamemnon had\n offended Artemis by slaying a doe sacred to her, as he was hunting. In\n the manifold meanings of such omens there is, probably, a latent\n suggestion of the sacrifice of Iphigeneia by the two chieftains,\n though this was at the time hidden from the seer. The fact that they\n are seen on the right, not on the left hand, was itself ominous of\n good.\n\nFootnote 278:\n\n The song of Linos, originally the dirge with which men mourned for the\n death of Linos, the minstrel-son of Apollo and Urania, brother of\n Orpheus, who was slain by Heracles\u2014a type, like Thammuz and Adonis, of\n life prematurely closed and bright hopes never to be fulfilled,\u2014had\n come to be the representative of all songs of mourning. So Hesiod (in\n Eustath. on Hom. _Il._, vii. 569) speaks of the name, as applied to\n all funeral dirges over poets and minstrels. So Herodotos (ii. 79)\n compares it, as the type of this kind of music among the Greeks, with\n what he found in Egypt connected with the name of Maneros, the only\n son of the first king of Egypt, who died in the bloom of youth. The\n name had, therefore, as definite a connotation for a Greek audience as\n the words _Miserere_ or _Jubilate_ would have for us, and ought not, I\n believe, to disappear from the translation.\n\nFootnote 279:\n\n The comparison of a lion's whelps to dew-drops, bold as the figure is,\n has something in it analogous to that with which we are more familiar,\n describing the children, or the army of a king, as the \u201cdew\u201d from \u201cthe\n womb of the morning\u201d (Ps. cx. 3).\n\nFootnote 280:\n\n The sacrifice, _i.e._, was to be such as could not, according to the\n customary ritual, form a feast for the worshippers.\n\nFootnote 281:\n\n The dark words look at once before and after, back to the murder of\n the sons of Thyestes, forward, though of this the seer knew not, to\n the sacrifice of Iphigeneia. Clyt\u00e6mnestra is the embodiment of the\n Vengeance of which the Chorus speaks.\n\nFootnote 282:\n\n As a part of the drama the whole passage that follows is an assertion\n by the Chorus that in this their trouble they will turn to no other\n God, invoke no other name, but that of the Supreme Zeus. But it can\n hardly be doubted that they have a meaning beyond this, and are the\n utterance by the poet of his own theology. In the second part of the\n Promethean trilogy (all that we now know of it) he had represented\n Zeus as ruling in the might of despotic sovereignty, the\n representative of a Power which men could not resist, but also could\n not love, inflicting needless sufferings on the sons of men. Now he\n has grown wiser. The sovereignty of Zeus is accepted as part of the\n present order of the world; trust in Him brings peace; the pain which\n He permits is the one only way to wisdom. The stress laid upon the\n name of Zeus implies a wish to cleave to the religion inherited from\n the older Hellenes, as contrasted with those with which their\n intercourse with the East had made the Athenians familiar. Like the\n voice which came to Epimenides, as he was building a sanctuary to the\n Muses, bidding him dedicate it not to them but to Zeus (Diog. Laert.\n i. 10), it represents a faint approximation to a truer, more\n monotheistic creed than that of the popular mythology.\n\nFootnote 283:\n\n The two mighty ones who have passed away are Uranos and Cronos, the\n representatives in Greek mythology of the earlier stages of the\n world's history, (1) mere material creation, (2) an ideal period of\n harmony, a golden, Saturnian age, preceding the present order of\n divine government with its mingled good and evil. Comp. Hesiod.\n _Theogon._, 459.\n\nFootnote 284:\n\n The Chorus returns, after its deeper speculative thoughts, to its\n interrupted narrative.\n\nFootnote 285:\n\n The seer saw his augury fulfilled. When he uttered the name of Artemis\n it was pregnant with all the woe which he had foreboded at the outset.\n\nFootnote 286:\n\n So that the blood may fall upon the altar, as the knife was drawn\n across the throat.\n\nFootnote 287:\n\n The whole passage should be compared with the magnificent description\n in Lucretius i. 84-101.\n\nFootnote 288:\n\n Beautiful as a picture, and as motionless and silent also. The art,\n young as it was, had already reached the stage when it supplied to the\n poet an ideal standard of perfection. Other allusions to it are found\n in vv. 774, 1300.\n\nFootnote 289:\n\n The words point to the ritual of Greek feasts, which assigned the\n first libation to Zeus and the Olympian Gods, the second to the\n Heroes, the third to Zeus in his special character as Saviour and\n Preserver; the last was commonly accompanied by a p\u00e6an, hymn of\n praise. The life of Agamemnon is described as one which had good cause\n to offer many such libations. Iphigeneia had sung many such p\u00e6ans.\n\nFootnote 290:\n\n The mythical explanation of this title for the Argive territory is\n found in the _Suppl._ v. 256, and its real meaning is discussed in a\n note to that passage.\n\nFootnote 291:\n\n To speak of Morning as the child of Night was, we may well believe,\n among the earliest parables of nature. In its mythical form it appears\n in Hesiod (_Theogon._ 123), but its traces are found wherever, as\n among Hebrews, Athenians, Germans, men reckoned by nights rather than\n by days, and spoke of \u201cthe evening and the morning\u201d rather than of\n \u201cday and night.\u201d\n\nFootnote 292:\n\n The God thought of is, as in v. 272, Heph\u00e6stos, as being Lord of the\n Fire, that had brought the tidings.\n\nFootnote 293:\n\n It is not without significance that Clyt\u00e6mnestra scorns the channel of\n divine instruction of which the Chorus had spoken with such reverence.\n The dramatist puts into her mouth the language of those who scoffed at\n the notion that truth might come to the soul in \u201cvisions of the\n night,\u201d when \u201cdeep sleep falleth upon men.\u201d So Sophocles puts like\n thoughts into the mouth of Jocasta (_\u0152d. King_, vv. 709, 858).\n\nFootnote 294:\n\n Omens came from the flight of birds. An omen which was not\n trustworthy, or belonged to some lower form of divination, might\n therefore be spoken of as \u201cwingless.\u201d But the word may possibly be\n intensive, not negative, \u201cswift-winged,\u201d and then refer generically to\n that form of divination.\n\nFootnote 295:\n\n The description that follows, over and above its general interest,\n had, probably, for an Athenian audience, that of representing the\n actual succession of beacon-stations, by which they, in the course of\n the wars, under Pericles, had actually received intelligence from the\n coasts of Asia. A glance at the map will show the fitness of the\n places named\u2014Ida, Lemnos, Athos, Makistos (a mountain in Eub\u0153a),\n Messapion (on the coast of B\u0153otia), over the plains of the As\u00f4pos to\n Kith\u00e6ron, in the south of the same province, then over Gorgopis, a bay\n of the Corinthian Gulf, to \u00c6giplanctos in Megaris, then across to a\n headland overlooking the Saronic Gulf, to the Arachn\u00e6an hill in\n Argolis. The word \u201c_courier_-fire\u201d connects itself also with the\n system of posts or messengers, which the Persian kings seem to have\n been the first to organise, and which impressed the minds both of\n Hebrews (Esth. viii. 14) and Greeks (Herod. viii. 98) by their regular\n transmission of the king's edicts, or of special news.\n\nFootnote 296:\n\n Our ignorance of the details of the _Lampadephoria_, or \u201ctorch-race\n games,\u201d in honour of the fire-God, Prometheus, makes the allusion to\n them somewhat obscure. As described by Pausanias (I. xxx. 2), the\n runners started with lighted torches from the altar of Prometheus in\n the Academeia and ran towards the city. The first who reached the goal\n with his torch still burning became the winner. If all the torches\n were extinguished, then all were losers. As so described, however,\n there is no succession, no taking the torch from one and passing it on\n to another, like that described here and in the well-known line of\n Lucretius (ii. 78),\n\n \u201cEt quasi cursores vita\u00ef lampada tradunt.\u201d\n (And they, as runners, pass the torch of life.)\n\n On the other hand, there are descriptions which show that such a\n transfer was the chief element of the game. This is, indeed, implied\n both in this passage and in the comparison between the game and the\n Persian courier-system in Herod. viii. 98. The two views may be\n reconciled by supposing (1) that there were sets of runners, vying\n with each other as such, rather than individually, or (2) that a\n runner whose speed failed him though his torch kept burning, was\n allowed to hand it on to another who was more likely to win the race,\n but whose torch was out. The next line seems meant to indicate where\n the comparison failed. In the torch-race which Clyt\u00e6mnestra describes\n there had been no contest. One and the self-same fire (the idea of\n succession passing into that of continuity) had started and had\n reached the goal, and so had won the prize. An alternative rendering\n would be,\u2014\n\n \u201cHe wins who is first in, though starting last.\u201d\n\nFootnote 297:\n\n The complete foot-race was always to the column which marked the end\n of the course, round it, and back again. In getting to Tro\u00efa,\n therefore, but half the race was done.\n\nFootnote 298:\n\n Dramatically the words refer to the practical impiety of evildoers\n like Paris, with, perhaps, a half-latent allusion to that of\n Clyt\u00e6mnestra. But it can hardly be doubted that for the Athenian\n audience it would have a more special significance, as a protest\n against the growing scepticism, what in a later age would have been\n called the Epicureanism, of the age of Pericles. It is the assertion\n of the belief of \u00c6schylos in the moral government of the world. The\n very vagueness of the singular, \u201cOne there was,\u201d would lead the\n hearers to think of some teacher like Anaxagoras, whom they suspected\n of Atheism.\n\nFootnote 299:\n\n The Chorus sees in the overthrow of Tro\u00efa, an instance of this\n righteous retribution. The audience were, perhaps, intended to think\n also of the punishment which had fallen on the Persians for the\n sacrilegious acts of their fathers. The \u201cthings inviolable\u201d are the\n sanctities of the ties of marriage and hospitality, both of which\n Paris had set at nought.\n\nFootnote 300:\n\n Here, and again in v. 612, we have a similitude drawn from the\n metallurgy of Greek artists. Good bronze, made of copper and tin,\n takes the green rust which collectors prize, but when rubbed, the\n brightness reappears. If zinc be substituted for tin, as in our brass,\n or mixed largely with it, the surface loses its polish, oxidizes and\n becomes black. It is, however, doubtful whether this combination of\n metals was at the time in use, and the words may simply refer to\n different degrees of excellence in bronze properly so called.\n\nFootnote 301:\n\n In a corrupt passage like this, the text of which has been so\n variously restored and rendered, it may be well to give at least one\n alternative version:\n\n \u201cThere stands she silent, with no honour met,\n Nor yet with words of scorn,\n Sweetest to see of all that he has lost.\u201d\n\n The words, as so taken, refer to the vision of Helen, described in the\n lines that follow. Another, for the line \u201cIn deepest woe,\u201d &c., ...\n would give,\n\n \u201cBelieving not he sees the lost one there.\u201d\n\nFootnote 302:\n\n The art of Pheidias had already made it natural at Athens to speak of\n kings as decorating their palaces with the life-size busts or statues\n of those they loved.\n\nFootnote 303:\n\n Here again one may note a protest against the aggressive policy of\n Pericles, an assertion of the principle that a nation should be\n content with independence, without aiming at supremacy.\n\nFootnote 304:\n\n Perhaps passively, \u201cSoon suffers trespassers.\u201d\n\nFootnote 305:\n\n As the play opens on the morning of the day on which Tro\u00efa was taken,\n and now we have the arrivals, first, of the herald, and then of\n Agamemnon, after the capture has been completed, and the spoil\n divided, and the fleet escaped a storm, an interval of some days must\n be supposed between the two parts of the play, the imaginary law of\n the unities notwithstanding.\n\nFootnote 306:\n\n The customary adornment of heralds who brought good news. Comp.\n Sophocles, _\u0152d. K._ v. 83. The custom prevailed for many centuries,\n and is recognised by Dante, _Purg._ ii. 70, as usual in his time in\n Italy.\n\nFootnote 307:\n\n So in the _Seven against Thebes_ (v. 494), smoke is called \u201cthe sister\n of fire.\u201d\n\nFootnote 308:\n\n A probable reference, not only to the story, but to the actual words\n of Homer, _Il._ i. 45-52.\n\nFootnote 309:\n\n Specially the Dioscuri, Castor and Polydeukes.\n\nFootnote 310:\n\n Such a position (especially in the case of Zeus or Apollo) was common\n in the temples both of Greece and Rome, and had a very obvious\n signification. As the play was performed, the actual hour of the day\n probably coincided with that required by the dramatic sequence of\n events, and the statues of the Gods were so placed on the stage as to\n catch the rays of the morning sun when the herald entered. Hence the\n allusion to the bright \u201ccheerful glances\u201d would have a visible as well\n as ethical fitness.\n\nFootnote 311:\n\n It formed part of the guilt of Paris, that, besides his seduction of\n Helena, he had carried off part of the treasures of Menelaos.\n\nFootnote 312:\n\n The idea of a payment twofold the amount of the wrong done, as a\n complete satisfaction to the sufferer, was common in the early\n jurisprudence both of Greeks and Hebrews (Exod. xxii. 4-7). In some\n cases it was even more, as in the four or fivefold restitution of\n Exod. xxii. 1. In the grand opening of Isaiah's message of glad\n tidings the fact that Jerusalem has received \u201cdouble for all her sins\u201d\n is made the ground on the strength of which she may now hope for\n pardon. Comp. also Isa. lxi. 7; Zech. ix. 12.\n\nFootnote 313:\n\n Perhaps\u2014\n\n \u201cFull hardly, and the close and crowded decks.\u201d\n\nFootnote 314:\n\n So stress is laid upon this form of hardship, as rising from the\n climate of Tro\u00efa, by Sophocles, _Aias_, 1206.\n\nFootnote 315:\n\n One may conjecture that here also, as with the passage describing the\n succession of beacon fires (vv. 281-314), the description would have\n for an Athenian audience the interest of recalling personal\n reminiscences of some recent campaign in Thrak\u00e8, or on the coasts of\n Asia.\n\nFootnote 316:\n\n We may, perhaps, think of the herald, as he speaks, placing some\n representative trophy upon the pegs on the pedestals of the statues of\n the great Gods of Hellas, whom he had invoked on his entrance.\n\nFootnote 317:\n\n Or,\n\n \u201cSo that to this bright morn our sons may boast,\n As they o'er land and ocean take their flight,\n 'The Argive host of old, who captured Tro\u00efa,\n These spoils of battle to the Gods of Hellas,\n Hung on their pegs, a trophy of old days.'\u201d\n\nFootnote 318:\n\n The husband, on his departure, sealed up his special treasures. It was\n the glory of the faithful wife or the trusty steward to keep these\n seals unbroken.\n\nFootnote 319:\n\n There is an ambiguity, possibly an intentional one, in the comparison\n which Clyt\u00e6mnestra uses. If there was no such art as that of \u201cstaining\n bronze\u201d (or copper) known at the time, the words would be a natural\n phrase enough to describe what was represented as an impossibility.\n Later on in the history of art, however, as in the time of Plutarch, a\n process so described (perhaps analogous to enamelling) is mentioned\n (_De Pyth. Orac_. \u00a7 2) as common. If we suppose the art to have been a\n mystery known to the few, but not to the many, in the time of\n \u00c6schylos, then the words would have for the hearers the point of a\n _double entendre_. She seems to the mass to disclaim what yet, to\n those in the secret she acknowledges.\n\n Another rendering refers \u201cbronze\u201d to the \u201csword,\u201d and makes the stains\n those of blood; as though she said, \u201cI am as guiltless of adultery as\n of murder,\u201d while yet she knew that she had committed the one, and\n meant to commit the other. The possibility of such a meaning is\n certainly in the words, and with a sharp-witted audience catching at\n \u00e6nigmas and dark sayings may have added to their suggestiveness. The\n ambiguous comment of the Chorus shows that they read, as between the\n lines, the shameful secret which they knew, but of which the Herald\n was ignorant.\n\nFootnote 320:\n\n The last two lines are by some editors assigned to the Herald.\n\nFootnote 321:\n\n It need hardly be said that it is as difficult to render a\n _paronomasia_ of this kind as it is to reproduce those, more or less\n analogous, which we find in the prophets of the Old Testament (comp.\n especially Micah i.); but it seems better to substitute something\n which approaches, however imperfectly, to an equivalent than to\n obscure the reference to the _nomen et omen_ by abandoning the attempt\n to translate it. \u201cHell of men, and hell of ships, and hell of towers,\u201d\n has been the rendering adopted by many previous translators. The Greek\n fondness for this play on names is seen in Sophocles, _Aias_, v. 401.\n\nFootnote 322:\n\n Zephyros, Boreas, and the other great winds were represented in the\n _Theogony_ of Hesiod (v. 134) as the offspring of Astr\u00e6os and E\u00f4s, and\n Astr\u00e6os was a Titan. The west wind was, of course, favourable to Paris\n as he went with Helen from Greece to Tro\u00efa.\n\nFootnote 323:\n\n Here again the translator has to meet the difficulty of a pun. As an\n alternative we might take\u2014\n\n \u201cTo Ilion brought, well-named,\n A marriage marring all.\u201d\n\nFootnote 324:\n\n The sons of Priam are thought of as taking part in the celebration of\n Helen's marriage with Paris, and as, therefore, involving themselves\n in the guilt and the penalty of his crime.\n\nFootnote 325:\n\n Here, too, it may be well to give an alternative rendering\u2014\n\n \u201cA mischief in his house,\n A man reared, not on milk.\u201d\n\n Home-reared lions seem to have been common as pets, both among Greeks\n and Latins (Arist., _Hist. Anim._ ix. 31; Plutarch, _de Cohib. ir\u00e2_, \u00a7\n 14, p. 822), sometimes, as in Martial's Epigram, ii. 25, with fatal\n consequences. The text shows the practice to have been common enough\n in the time of Pericles to supply a similitude.\n\nFootnote 326:\n\n There may, possibly, be a half allusion here to the passage in the\n _Iliad_ (vv. 154-160), which describes the fascination which the\n beauty of Helen exercised on the Tro\u00efan elders.\n\nFootnote 327:\n\n The poet becomes a prophet, and asserts what it has been given him to\n know of the righteous government of God. The dominant creed of Greece\n at the time was, that the Gods were envious of man's prosperity, that\n this alone, apart from moral evil, was enough to draw down their\n wrath, and bring a curse upon the prosperous house. So, _e.g._, Amasis\n tells Polycrates (Herod. iii. 40) that the unseen Divinity that rules\n the world is envious, that power and glory are inevitably the\n precursors of destruction. Comp. also the speech of Artabanos (Herod.\n vii. 10, 46). Against this, in the tone of one who speaks singlehanded\n for the truth, \u00c6schylos, through the Chorus, enters his protest.\n\nFootnote 328:\n\n _Sc._, Agamemnon, by the sacrifice of Iphigeneia, had induced his\n troops to persevere in an expedition from which, in their inmost\n hearts, they shrank back with strong dislike. A conjectural reading\n gives,\n\n \u201cBy the sacrifice he offered\n Giving death-doomed men false boldness.\u201d\n\nFootnote 329:\n\n The tone of ambiguous irony mingles, it will be seen, even here, with\n the praises of the Chorus.\n\nFootnote 330:\n\n Possibly an allusion to Pandora's box. Here, too, Hope alone was left,\n but it only came up to where the curve of the rim began, not to its\n top. The imagery is drawn from the older method of voting, in which\n (as in _Eumenides_, v. 678) the votes for condemnation and acquittal\n were cast into separate urns.\n\nFootnote 331:\n\n The lion, as the symbol of the house of Atreus, still seen in the\n sculptures of Myken\u00e6; the horse, in allusion to the stratagem by which\n Tro\u00efa had been taken.\n\nFootnote 332:\n\n At the end of autumn, and therefore at a season when a storm like that\n described by the herald would be a probable incident enough.\n\nFootnote 333:\n\n So in Sophocles, Philoctetes (v. 1025) taunts Odysseus:\u2014\n\n \u201cAnd yet thou sailedst with them by constraint,\n By tricks fast bound.\u201d\n\nFootnote 334:\n\n Geryon appears in the myth of Hercules as a monster with three heads\n and three bodies, ruling over the island Erytheia, in the far West,\n beyond Hesperia. To destroy him and seize his cattle was one of the\n \u201ctwelve labours,\u201d with which Hesiod (_Theogon._ vv. 287-294) had\n already made men familiar.\n\nFootnote 335:\n\n When a man is buried, there is earth above and earth below him.\n Clyt\u00e6mnestra having used the words \u201ccoverlet,\u201d pauses to make her\n language accurate to the very letter. She is speaking only of the\n earth which would have been laid over her husband's corpse, had he\n died as often as he was reported to have done. She will not utter\n anything so ominous as an allusion to the depths below him stretching\n down to Hades.\n\nFootnote 336:\n\n Or\u2014\n\n \u201cWeeping because the torches in thy house\n No more were lighted as they were of yore.\u201d\n\nFootnote 337:\n\n The words touch upon the psychological fact that in dreams, as in\n other abnormal states of the mind, the usual measures of time\n disappear, and we seem to pass through the experiences of many years\n in the slumber of a few minutes.\n\nFootnote 338:\n\n The rhetoric of the passage, with all its multiplied similitudes, fine\n as it is in itself, receives its dramatic significance by being put\n into the lips of Clyt\u00e6mnestra. She \u201cdoth protest too much.\u201d A true\n wife would have been content with fewer words.\n\nFootnote 339:\n\n The last three lines of the speech are of course intentionally\n ambiguous, carrying one meaning to the ear of Agamemnon, and another\n to that of the audience.\n\nFootnote 340:\n\n There is obviously a side-thrust, such as an Athenian audience would\n catch at, at the token of homage which the Persian kings required of\n their subjects, the prostration at their feet, the earth spread over\n with costly robes. Of the latter custom we have examples in the\n history of Jehu (2 Kings ix. 13), in our Lord's entry into Jerusalem\n (Mark xi. 8), in the usages of modern Persian kings (Malcolm's\n _Persia_, i. 580); perhaps also in the true rendering of Ps. xlv. 14.\n \u201cShe shall be brought unto the king _on_ raiment of needle-work.\u201d In\n the march of Xerxes across the Hellespont myrtle-boughs strown on the\n bridge of boats took the place of robes (Herod. vii. 54). To the Greek\n character, with its strong love of independence, such customs were\n hateful. The case of Pausanias, who offended the national feeling by\n assuming the outward state of the Persian kings, must have been\n recalled to the minds of the Athenians, intentionally or otherwise, by\n such a passage as this.e bridge of boats took the place of robes\n (Herod. vii. 54). To\n\nFootnote 341:\n\n The \u201cold saying, famed of many men,\u201d which we find in the _Trachini\u00e6_\n of Sophocles (v. 1), and in the counsel of Solon to Cr\u0153sos (Herod. i.\n 32).\n\nFootnote 342:\n\n He who had suffered so much from the wrath of Artemis at Aulis knew\n what it was to rouse the wrath and jealousy of the Gods.\n\nFootnote 343:\n\n An echo of a line in Hesiod (_Works and Days_, 763)\u2014\n\n \u201cNo whispered rumours which the many spread\n Can ever wholly perish.\u201d\n\nFootnote 344:\n\n Here, too, we may trace a reference to the Oriental custom of\n recognising the sanctity of a consecrated place by taking the shoes\n from off the feet, as in Exod. iii. 5, in the services of the\n Tabernacle and Temple, through all their history (Juven., _Sat._ vi.\n 159), in all mosques to the present day. Agamemnon, yielding to the\n temptress, seeks to make a compromise with his conscience. He will\n walk upon the tapestry, but will treat it as if it, of right, belonged\n to the Gods, and were a consecrated thing. It is probably in\n connection with this incident that \u00c6schylos was said to have been the\n first to bring actors on the stage in these boots or buskins (Suidas.\n s. v. \u03ac\u03c1\u03b2\u03cd\u03bb\u03b7).\n\nFootnote 345:\n\n The words of Isaiah (xviii. 5), \u201cwhen the sour grape is ripening in\n the flower,\u201d present an almost verbal parallel.\n\nFootnote 346:\n\n The ever-recurring ambiguity of Clyt\u00e6mnestra's language is again\n traceable, as is also her fondness for rhetorical similitudes.\n\nFootnote 347:\n\n The Chorus speaks in perplexity. In cannot get rid of its forebodings,\n and yet it would seem as if the time for the fulfilment of the dark\n words of Calchas must have passed long since. It actually sees the\n safe return of the leader of the host, yet still its fears haunt it.\n\nFootnote 348:\n\n Asclepios, whom Zeus smote with his thunderbolt for having restored\n Hippolytos to life.\n\nFootnote 349:\n\n The Chorus, in spite of their suspicions and forebodings, have given\n the king no warning. They excuse themselves by the plea of necessity,\n the sovereign decree of Zeus overruling all man's attempts to\n withstand it.\n\nFootnote 350:\n\n Cassandra is summoned to an act of worship. The household is gathered,\n the altar to Zeus Ktesios (the God of the family property, slaves\n included), standing in the servants' hall, is ready. The new slave\n must come in and take her place with the others.\n\nFootnote 351:\n\n As in the story which forms the groundwork of the _Trachini\u00e6_ of\n Sophocles, vv. 250-280, that Heracles had been sold to Omphale as a\n slave, in penalty for the murder of Iphitos.\n\nFootnote 352:\n\n Political as well as dramatic. The Eupatrid poet appeals to public\n opinion against the _nouveaux riches_, the tanners and lamp-makers,\n who were already beginning to push themselves forward towards\n prominence and power. The way was thus prepared in the first play of\n the Trilogy for what is known to have been the main object of the\n last. Comp. Arist., _Rhet._ ii. 32.\n\nFootnote 353:\n\n Here again the translator has the task of finding an English\n _paronomasia_ which approximates to that of the Greek, between Apollo\n and \u1f00\u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd _the destroyer_. To Apollo, as the God of paths\n (_Aguieus_), an altar stood, column-fashion, before the street-door of\n every house, and to such an altar, placed by the door of Agamemnon's\n palace, Cassandra turns, with the twofold play upon the name.\n\nFootnote 354:\n\n This refers, probably, to the death of Hippodameia, the wife of\n Pelops, who killed herself, in remorse for the death of Chrysippos, or\n fear of her husband's anger. The horrors of the royal house of Argos\n pass, one by one, before the vision of the prophetess, and this leads\n the procession, followed by the spectres of the murdered children of\n Thyestes.\n\nFootnote 355:\n\n The Chorus, as in their last ode, had made up their minds, though\n foreboding ill, to let destiny take its course. They do not wish that\n policy of non-interference to be changed by any too clear vision of\n the future.\n\nFootnote 356:\n\n The Chorus understands the vision of the _clairvoyante_ as regards the\n past tragedy of the house of Atreus, but not that which seems to\n portend another actually imminent.\n\nFootnote 357:\n\n Fresh visions come before the eyes of the seeress. She beholds the\n company of Erinnyes hovering over the accursed house, and calls on\n them to continue their work till the new crime has met with its due\n punishment. The murder which she sees as if already wrought, demands\n death by stoning.\n\nFootnote 358:\n\n The \u201cyellow\u201d look of fear is thought of as being caused by an actual\n change in the colour of the blood as it flows through the veins to the\n heart.\n\nFootnote 359:\n\n Here there is prevision as well as clairvoyance. The deed is not yet\n done. The sacrifice and the feast are still going on, yet she sees the\n crime in all its circumstances.\n\nFootnote 360:\n\n As before (v. 115) the black eagle had been the symbol of the\n warrior-chief, so here the black-horned bull, that being one of the\n notes of the best breed of cattle. A various reading gives \u201cwith _her_\n swarthy horn.\u201d\n\nFootnote 361:\n\n What the Chorus had just said as to the fruitlessness of prophetic\n insight tallied all too well with her own bitter experience.\n\nFootnote 362:\n\n The ecstasy of horror interrupts the tenor of her speech, and the\n second \u201cthou\u201d is addressed not to the Chorus, but to Agamemnon, whose\n death Cassandra has just witnessed in her vision.\n\nFootnote 363:\n\n The song of the nightingale, represented by these sounds, was\n connected with a long legend, specially Attic in its origin.\n Philomela, daughter of Pandion, king of Attica, suffered outrage at\n the hands of Tereus, who was married to her sister Procne, and was\n then changed into a nightingale, destined ever to lament over the fate\n of Itys her sister's son. The earliest form of the story appears in\n the _Odyssey_ (xix. 518). Comp. Sophocles, _Electr._ v. 148.\n\nFootnote 364:\n\n In the marriage-rites of the Greeks of the time of \u00c6schylos, the bride\n for three days after the wedding wore her veil; then, as now no longer\n shrinking from her matron life, she laid it aside and looked on her\n husband with unveiled face.\n\nFootnote 365:\n\n The picture might be drawn by any artist of power, but we may,\n perhaps, trace a reproduction of one of the grandest passages in the\n _Iliad_ (iv. 422-426).\n\nFootnote 366:\n\n So in the _Eumenides_ (v. 293), the Erinnyes appear as vampires,\n drinking the blood of their victims.\n\nFootnote 367:\n\n The death of Myrtilos as the first crime in the long history of the\n house of Pelops. Comp. Soth. _Electr._ v. 470. The \u201cdefiler\u201d is\n Thyestes, who seduced Aerope, the wife of Atreus.\n\nFootnote 368:\n\n The horror of the Thyestes banquet again haunts her as the source of\n all the evils that followed, of the deaths both of Iphigenia and\n Agamemnon. The \u201cstay-at-home\u201d is \u00c6gisthos.\n\nFootnote 369:\n\n Both words point to the Sindbad-like stories of distant marvels\n brought back by Greek sailors. The Amphisb\u00e6na (double-goer), wriggling\n itself backward and forward, believed to have a head at each\n extremity, was looked upon as at once the most subtle and the most\n venomous of serpents. Skylla, already famous in its mythical form from\n the story in the _Odyssey_ (xii. 85-100), was probably a \u201cdevelopment\u201d\n of the monstrous cuttle-fish of the straits of Messina.\n\nFootnote 370:\n\n As in Homer (_Il._ i. 14) so here, the servant of Apollo bears the\n wand of augury, and fillets or wreaths round head and arms. The\n divining garments, in like manner, were of white linen.\n\nFootnote 371:\n\n If we adopt this reading, we must think of Cassandra as identifying\n herself with the woe (At\u00e8) which makes up her life, just as afterwards\n Clyt\u00e6mnestra speaks of herself as one with the avenging Demon\n (Alastor) of the house of Atreus (1473). The alternative reading\n gives\u2014\n\n \u201cMake rich in woe another in my place.\u201d\n\nFootnote 372:\n\n Perhaps, \u201cin home not mine.\u201d\n\nFootnote 373:\n\n When the victim, instead of shrinking and struggling, went, as with\n good courage, to the altar, it was noted as a sign of divine impulse.\n Such a strange, new courage the Chorus notices in Cassandra.\n\nFootnote 374:\n\n Possibly,\n\n \u201cMy one escape, my friends, is but delay.\u201d\n\nFootnote 375:\n\n The implied thoughts of the words is that Priam and his sons, though\n they had died nobly, were yet miserable, and not happy.\n\nFootnote 376:\n\n The Syrian ritual had, it would seem, become proverbial for its lavish\n use of frankincense and other spices.\n\nFootnote 377:\n\n The close parallel of Shakespeare's _Henry VI._, Act. v. sc. 6, is\n worth quoting\u2014\n\n \u201cThe bird that hath been limed in a bush,\n With trembling eyes misdoubteth every bush\u201d\n\nFootnote 378:\n\n The older reading gives\u2014\n\n \u201cA shadow might o'erturn it.\u201d\n\nFootnote 379:\n\n Her own doom, hard as it was, touches her less than the common lot of\n human suffering and mutability.\n\nFootnote 380:\n\n So far the dialogue has been sustained by the Coryph\u00e6os, or leader of\n the Chorus. Now each member of it speaks and gives his counsel.\n\nFootnote 381:\n\n The Coryph\u00e6os again takes up his part, sums up, and pronounces his\n decision.\n\nFootnote 382:\n\n _i.e._, He had had his triumph over her when, forgetful of her\n mother's feelings, he had sacrificed Iphigeneia. She has now repaid\n him to the full.\n\nFootnote 383:\n\n The third libation at all feasts was to Zeus, as the Preserver or\n Guardian Deity. Clyt\u00e6mnestra boasts that her third blow was as an\n offering to a God of other kind, to Him who had in his keeping not the\n living, but the dead.\n\nFootnote 384:\n\n So in the _Cho\u00ebphori_ (vv. 351, 476), the custom of pouring libations\n on the burial-place of the dead is recognised as an element of their\n blessedness or shame in Hades, and Agamemnon is represented as lacking\n the honour which comes from them till he receives it at the hand of\n Orestes.\n\nFootnote 385:\n\n Incense was placed on the head of the victim. The Chorus tell\n Clyt\u00e6mnestra that she has brought upon her own head the incense, not\n of praise and admiration, but of hatred and wrath, as though some\n poison had driven her mad.\n\nFootnote 386:\n\n The species of swan referred to is said to be the _Cygnus Musicus_.\n Aristotle (_Hist. Anim._ ix. 12) describes swans of some kind as\n having been heard by sailors near the coast of Libya, \u201csinging with a\n lamentable cry.\u201d Mrs. Somerville (_Phys. Geog._, c. xxxiii. 3)\n describes their note as \u201clike that of a violin.\u201d The same fact is\n reported of the swans of Iceland and other regions of the far North.\n The strange, tender beauty of the passage in the _Ph\u00e6do_ of Plato (p.\n 85, a), which speaks of them as singing when at the point of death,\n has done more than anything else to make the illustration one of the\n commonplaces of rhetoric and poetry.\n\nFootnote 387:\n\n The structure of the lyrical dialogue that follows is rather\n complicated, and different editors have adopted different\n arrangements. I have followed Paley's.\n\nFootnote 388:\n\n Several lines seem to have dropped out by some accident of\n transcription.\n\nFootnote 389:\n\n Agamemnon and Menelaos, as descended from Tantalos, the father of\n Pelops.\n\nFootnote 390:\n\n In each case women, Helen and Clyt\u00e6mnestra, had been the unconscious\n instruments of the divine Nemesis, to which the Chorus traces the ruin\n of the house of Atreus.\n\nFootnote 391:\n\n Or, with another reading,\u2014\n\n \u201cHe (_sc._ the avenging Demon) boasteth in his pride of heart.\u201d\n\nFootnote 392:\n\n It is characteristic of the teaching of \u00c6schylos that the Chorus\n passes from the thought of the agency of any lower Power to the\n supreme will of Zeus.\n\nFootnote 393:\n\n Or, \u201cDying, as dies a slave.\u201d\n\nFootnote 394:\n\n Clyt\u00e6mnestra still harps (though in ambiguous words, which may refer\n also to the murder of the children of Thyestes) upon the death of\n Iphigeneia as the crime which it had been her work to avenge.\n\nFootnote 395:\n\n Perhaps, \u201cAnd that, too, not a slave's.\u201d\n\nFootnote 396:\n\n Here the genealogy is carried one step further to Pleisthenes, the\n father of Tantalos.\n\nFootnote 397:\n\n \u00c6gisthos, in his version of the story, suppresses the adultery of\n Thyestes with the wife of Atreus, which led the latter to his horrible\n revenge.\n\nFootnote 398:\n\n The image is taken from the trireme with its three benches full of\n rowers. The Chorus is compared to the men on the lowest, \u00c6gisthos and\n Clyt\u00e6mnestra to those on the uppermost bench.\n\nFootnote 399:\n\n The earliest occurrence of the proverb with which we are familiar\n through the history of St. Paul's conversion, Acts ix. 5, xxvi. 14.\n\nFootnote 400:\n\n The trace-horse, as not under the pressure of the collar, was taken as\n the type of free, those that wore the yoke, of enforced submission.\n\n\n\n\n THE LIBATION-POURERS\n\n\n DRAMATIS PERSON\u00c6\n\n ORESTES\n CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA\n PYLADES\n ELECTRA\n \u00c6GISTHOS\n _Nurse_\n _Servant_\n _Chorus of Captive Women_\n\n\n_ARGUMENT.\u2014It came to pass, after Agamemnon had been slain, that\nClyt\u00e6mnestra and \u00c6gisthos ruled in Argos, and all things seemed to go\nwell with them. Orestes, who was heir to Agamemnon, they had sent away\nto the care of Strophios of Phokis, and there he abode. Electra, his\nsister, mourned in secret over her father's death, and prayed for\nvengeance, but no avenger came. And when Orestes grew up to man's\nestate, he went to ask counsel of the God at Delphi, and the Gods\nstraitly charged him to take vengeance on his father's murderers; and so\nhe started on his journey with his trusty friend Pylades, and arrived at\nArgos. And it chanced that a little while before he came, the Gods sent\nClyt\u00e6mnestra a fearful dream, that troubled her soul greatly; and in her\nterror she bade Electra go with her handmaids to pour libations on the\ntomb of Agamemnon, that so she might appease his soul, and propitiate\nthe Powers that rule over the dark world of the dead._\n\n\n\n\n THE LIBATION-POURERS\n\n\n SCENE.\u2014Argos, _in front of the palace of the Atreid\u00e6. The tomb of_\n AGAMEMNON _(a raised mound of earth) is seen in the background._\n\n _Enter_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES _from the left;_ ORESTES _advances to\n the mound, and, as he speaks, lays on it a lock of his hair._\n\n _Orest._ O Hermes of the darkness 'neath the earth,\n Who hast the charge of all thy Father's[401] sway,\n To me who pray deliverer, helper be;\n For I to this land come, from exile come,\n And on the raised mound of this monument\n I bid my father hear and list. One tress,\n Thank-offering for the gifts that fed my youth,\n To Inachos I consecrate, and this\n The second as the token of my grief;[402]\n For mine it was not, father, being by,\n Over thy death to groan, nor yet to stretch\n My hand forth for the burial of thy corpse.\n\n [_As he speaks_, ELECTRA, _followed by a train of\n captive women in black garments, bearing libations,\n wailing and tearing their clothes, comes\n forth from the palace_\n\n What see I now? What company of women\n Is this that comes in mourning garb attired?\n What chance shall I conjecture as its cause? 10\n Does a new sorrow fall upon this house?\n Or am I right in guessing that they bring\n Libations to my father, soothing gifts\n To those beneath? It cannot but be so.\n I think Electra, mine own sister, comes,\n By wailing grief conspicuous. Thou, O Zeus,\n Grant me full vengeance for my father's death,\n And of thine own good will my helper be!\n Come, Pylades, and let us stand aside,\n That I may clearly learn what means this train\n Of women offering prayers. 20\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Sent from the house I come,\n With quick, sharp beatings of the hands in grief,\n To pour libations here;\n *And see, my cheeks with bloody marks are tracked,[403]\n The new-cut furrows which my nails have made,\n And evermore my heart is fed with groans;\n And folds of mantles tied\n Across the breast are rent\n To shreds and rags in grief,\n *Marring the grace of linen vestments fair,\n *Since we by woes that shut out smiles are smitten. 30\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n *Full clear a spectre came\n That made each single hair to stand on end,\n Dream-prophet of this house,\n That e'en in sleep breathes out avenging wrath;\n And from the secret chamber cried in fear\n A cry that broke the silence of the night,\n There, where the women dwell,\n Falling with heaviest weight;\n And those who judge such dreams\n Told, calling God to witness, that the souls\n Below were wroth and vexed with those that slew them. 40\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n On such a graceless deed of grace, as charm\n To ward off ill, (O Earth! O mother kind!)\n A godless woman now\n Sends me with eager heart;\n And yet I dread to utter that same prayer;\n What ransom has been found\n For blood on earth once poured?\n Oh! hearth all miserable!\n Oh! utter overthrow of house and home!\n Yea, mists of darkness, sunless, loathed of men, 50\n Cover both home and house\n With its lords' bloody deaths.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n Yea, all the majesty that awed of old,\n Unchecked, unconquered, irresistible,\n Thrilling the people's heart\n As well as ears, is gone;\n There are, may be, that fear;[404] but now Success\n Is man's sole God and more;\n Yet stroke of Vengeance swift\n Smites some in life's clear day,\n For some who tarry long their sorrows wait\n In twilight dim, on darkness' borderland,\n *And some an endless night\n Of nothingness holds fast.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n Because of blood that mother earth has drunk,\n The guilt of slaughter that will vengeance work\n Is fixed indelibly;\n And At\u00e8, working grief, 60\n Permits awhile the guilty one to wait,\n That so he may be full and overflow\n *With all-devouring ill.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n For him whose foul touch stains the marriage bed[405]\n No remedy avails; and water-streams,\n Though all as from one source\n Should pour to cleanse the guilt\n *Of murder that the sin-stained hand defiles,\n *Would yet flow all in vain\n *That guilt to purify.\n\n\n EPODE\n\n But now to me, since the high Gods have sent\n A doom of bondage round my city's walls,\n (For from my father's home\n They have brought on me fate of slavery,)\n Deeds right and wrong alike\n Have been as things 'twas meet I should accept, 70\n Since this slave-life began,\n Where deeds are done by violence and force,\u2014\n And I must needs suppress\n *The bitter loathing of my inmost heart,\n *And now beneath my cloak I weep and wail\n *For all the frustrate fortunes of my lords,[406]\n Chilled through with secret grief.\n\n _Elect._ Ye handmaids, ye who deftly tend this house,\n Since ye are here companions in my task\n As suppliants, give me your advice in this,\n What shall I say as these funereal gifts\n I pour? How shall I speak acceptably? 80\n How to my father pray? What? Shall I say\n \u201cI bring from loving wife to husband loved\n Gifts\u201d\u2014from my mother? No, I am not bold\n Enough for that, nor know I what to speak,\n Pouring this chrism on my father's tomb,[407]\n Or shall I say this prayer, as men are wont,\n \u201cGood recompense make thou to those who bring\n These garlands,\u201d yea, a gift full well deserved\n By deeds of ill? Or dumb, with ignominy\n Like that with which he perished, shall I pour\n Libations on the earth, and like a man\n That flings away the lustral filth, shall I\n Throw down the urn and walk with eyes not turned?[408] 90\n Be sharers in my counsels, O my friends;\n A common hate we cherish in the house;\n Hide nothing in your heart through fear of man.\n Fate's doom firm-fixed awaits alike the free,\n And those in bondage to another's hand.\n Speak, if thou can'st a better counsel give. 100\n\n _Chor._ [_laying their hands on Agamemnon's tomb._] Thy father's tomb\n as altar honouring,\n I, as thou bidd'st, will speak my heart-thoughts out!\n\n _Elect._ Speak, then, as thou my father's tomb dost honour,\n\n _Chor._ Say, as thou pour'st, good words for those that love,\n\n _Elect._ Which of my friends shall I address as such!\n\n _Chor._ First then thyself, and whoso hates \u00c6gisthos.\n\n _Elect._ Shall I for thee, as for myself, pray thus?\n\n _Chor._ Now that thou'rt learning, judge of that thyself.\n\n _Elect._ Whom shall I add then to this company?\n\n _Chor._ Far though Orestes be, forget him not.\n\n _Elect._ Right well is this: thou teachest admirably.\n\n _Chor._ Then, for the blood-stained ones remembering say....\n\n _Elect._ What then? Explain, and teach my ignorance.[409] 110\n\n _Chor._ That there may come to them some God or man....\n\n _Elect._ Shall I \u201cas judge\u201d or as \u201cavenger\u201d say?\n\n _Chor._ Say it out plain! \u201cto give them death for death.\u201d...\n\n _Elect._ May prayers like these consist with piety?\n\n _Chor._ Why not,\u2014a foe with evils to requite?\n\n _Elect._ [_moving to the tomb, and pouring libations as she speaks._]\n *O mightiest herald of the Gods on high\n And those below, O Hermes of the dark,\n Call thou the Powers beneath, and bid them hear\n The prayers that look towards my father's house;\n And Earth herself, who all things bringeth forth, 120\n And rears them and again receives their fruit.\n And I to human souls libations pouring,\n Say, calling on my father, \u201cPity me;\n How shall we bring our dear Orestes home?\u201d\n For now as sold to ill by her who bore us,\n We poor ones wander. She as husband gained\n \u00c6gisthos, who was partner in thy death;\n And I am as a slave, and from his wealth\n Orestes now is banished, and they wax\n Full haughty in the wealth thy toil had gained. 130\n And that Orestes hither with good luck\n May come, I pray. Hear thou that prayer, my father!\n And to myself grant thou that I may be\n Than that my mother wiser far of heart,\n Holier in act. For us this prayer I pour;\n And for our foes, my father, this I pray,\n That Justice may as thine avenger come,\n And that thy murderers perish. Thus I place\n Midway in prayer for good that now I speak,\n My prayer 'gainst them for evil. Be thou then\n The escort[410] of these good things that I ask, 140\n With help of Gods, and Earth, and conquering Justice.\n With prayers like these my votive gifts I pour;\n And as for you [_turning to the Chorus_] 'tis meet with cries to crown\n The p\u00e6an ye utter, wailing for the dead.\n\n\n STROPHE\n\n _Chor._ *Pour ye the pattering tear,\n *Falling for fallen lord,\n *Here by the tomb that shuts out good and ill,\u2014\n Here, where the full libations have been poured\n That turn aside the curse men deprecate,\n Hear me, O Thou my Dread, 150\n Hear thou, O Sire, the words my dark mind speaks!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE\n\n Oh, woe is me, woe, woe!\n Woe, woe, and woe is me!\n *What warrior strong of spear\n Shall come the house to free,\n Or Ares with his Skythian bow[411] in hand,\n Shaking its pliant strength in deeds of war,\n *Or guiding in encounter closer yet\n The weapons made with hilts?\n\n [_During the choral ode_ ELECTRA, _after going to the\n mound, and pouring the libations on it, returns\n holding in her hands the lock of hair which_\n ORESTES _had left there_\n\n _Elect._ The gifts the earth hath drunk, my father hath them:\n Now this new wonder come and share with me.\n\n _Chor._ Speak on, my heart goes pit-a-pat with fear.\n\n _Elect._ There on the tomb I see this lock cut off. 160\n\n _Chor._ What man or maid low-girdled can it claim?\n\n _Elect._ Full easy this for any one to guess.\n\n _Chor._ Old as I am, may I from younger learn?\n\n _Elect._ None but myself could cut off lock like this.\n\n _Chor._ Yea, foes are they that should with grief-locks mourn.\n\n _Elect._ Yes, surely, 'tis indeed the self-same hair....\n\n _Chor._ But as what tresses? This I seek to know.\n\n _Elect._ And of a truth 'tis very like to ours....\n\n _Chor._ Did then Orestes send this secret gift?[412]\n\n _Elect._ It is most like those flowing locks of his. 170\n\n _Chor._ Yet how had he adventured to come hither?\n\n _Elect._ He to his father sent the lock as gift.\n\n _Chor._ Not less regretful than before, thy words,\n If on this soil his foot shall never tread.\n\n _Elect._ Yea, on me too there rushed heart-surge of gall\n And I was smitten as with dart that pierced;\n And from mine eyes there fell the thirsty drops\n That pour unchecked, of this full bitter flood,\n As I this lock beheld. How can I think\n That any other townsman owns this hair? 180\n Nay, she who slew ... she did not cut it off,\n My mother ... who towards her children shows\n A godless mood that little suits the name;\n And yet that I should this assert outright,\n The precious gift is his whom most of men\n I love, Orestes.... Nay, hope flatters me.\n Alas! alas!\n Would, herald-like, it had a kindly voice!\n So should I not turn to and fro in doubt;\n But either it had told me with all clearness\n To loathe this tress, if cut from hated head; 190\n Or, being of kin, had sought to share my grief,\n To deck the tomb and do my father honour.\n\n _Chor._ Well, on the Gods we call, on those who know\n In what storms we, like sailors, now are tossed:\n But if deliverance may indeed be ours,\n From a small seed a mighty trunk may grow.[413]\n\n _Elect._ Here too are foot-prints as a second proof,\n Just like ... yea, close resembling those of mine.\n For here are outlines of two separate feet,\n His own and those of fellow-traveller, 200\n And all the heels and impress of the feet,\n When measured, fit well with my footsteps here....\n Pangs come on me, and sore bewilderment.\n\n [_As she ceases speaking_ ORESTES _comes forward\n from his concealment_\n\n _Orest._ Pray, uttering to the Gods no fruitless prayer,\n For good success in what is yet to come.\n\n _Elect._ What profits now to me the Gods' good will?\n\n _Orest._ Thou see'st those here whom most thou did'st desire.\n\n _Elect._ Whom called I on, that thou hast knowledge of?\n\n _Orest._ Right well I know how thou dost prize Orestes.\n\n _Elect._ In what then find I now my prayers fulfilled? 210\n\n _Orest._ Behold me! Seek no dearer friend than I!\n\n _Elect._ Nay, stranger, dost thou weave a snare for me?\n\n _Orest._ Then do I plot my schemes against myself.\n\n _Elect._ Thou seekest to make merry with my grief.\n\n _Orest._ With mine then also, if at all with thine.\n\n _Elect._ Art thou indeed Orestes that I speak to?\n\n _Orest._ Though thou see'st him, thou'rt slow to learn 'tis I;\n Yet when thou saw'st this lock of mourner's hair,\n And did'st the foot-prints track my feet had made,\n Agreeing with thine own, as brother's true,\n Then did'st thou deem in hope thou looked'st on me. 220\n Fit then this lock where it was cut, and see;\n See too this woven robe, thine own hands' work,\n The shuttle's stroke, and forms of beasts[414] of chase.\n\n [ELECTRA _starts, as if about to cry aloud for joy_\n\n Restrain thyself, nor lose thy head for joy:\n Our nearest kin, I know, are foes to us.\n\n _Elect._ [_embracing_ ORESTES] Thou whom thy father's house most loves,\n most prays for,\n Our one sole hope, bewept with many a tear,\n Of issue that shall work deliverance!\n Thine own might trusting, thou thy father's house\n Shall soon win back. O pleasant fourfold name! 230\n I needs must speak to thee as father dear;[415]\n The love I owe my mother turns to thee,\n (She with full right to me is hateful now,)\n My sister's too, who ruthlessly was slain;\n And thou wast ever faithful brother found,\n And one whom I revered. May Might and Right,\n And sovran Zeus as third, my helpers be!\n\n _Orest._ Zeus! Zeus! be Thou a witness of our troubles,\n See the lorn brood that calls an eagle sire,\n Eagle that perished in the coils and folds 240\n Of a fell viper. Now on them bereaved\n Presses gaunt famine. Not as yet full-grown\n Are they to bring their father's booty home.\n Thus it is thine to see in me and her,\n (I mean Electra) children fatherless,\n Both suffering the same exile from our home.\n\n _Elect._ And should'st Thou havoc make of brood of sire\n Who at thine altar greatly honoured Thee,\n Whence wilt Thou get a festive offering\n From hand as free? Nor, should'st Thou bring to nought\n The eagle's nestlings, would'st thou have at hand 250\n A messenger to bear thy will to man\n In signs persuasive; nor when withered up\n This royal stock shall be, will it again\n Wait on thine altars at high festivals:\n Oh, bring it back, and then Thou too wilt raise\n From low estate a lofty house, which now\n Seems to have fallen, fallen utterly.\n\n _Chor._ Ah, children! saviours of your father's house,\n Hush, hush, lest some one hear you, children dear,\n And for mere talking's sake report all this\n To those that rule. Ah, would I might behold them\n Lie dead 'midst oozing fir-pyre blazing high![416] 260\n\n _Orest._ Nay, nay, I tell you, Loxias' oracle,\n In strength excelling, will not fail us now,\n That bade me on this enterprise to start,\n And with clear voice spake often, warning me\n Of chilling pain-throes at the fevered heart,\n Unless my father's murderers I should chase,\n Bidding me kill them in the self-same fashion,\n Stirred by the wrongs that pauperise my life,\n And said that I with many a mischief ill\n Should pay for that fault with mine own dear life.\n For making known to men the charms earth-born 270\n *That soothe the wrathful powers,[417] he spake for us\n Of ills as follows, leprous sores that creep\n All o'er the flesh, and as with cruel jaws\n Eat out its ancient nature, and white hairs[418]\n On that foul ill to supervene: and still\n He spake of other onsets of the Erinnyes,\n As brought to issue from a father's blood;\n For the dark weapon of the Gods below\n Winged by our kindred that lie low in death,\n And beg for vengeance, yea, and madness too,\n And vague, dim fears at night disturb and haunt me,\n *Seeing full clearly, though I move my brow[419] 280\n In the thick darkness ... and that then my frame,\n Thus tortured, should be driven from the city\n With brass-knobbed scourge: and that for such as I\n It was not given to share the wine-cup's taste,\n Nor votive stream in pure libation poured;\n And that my father's wrath invisible\n Would drive me from all altars, and that none\n Should take me in, or lodge with me; at last,\n That, loathed of all and friendless, I should die,\n A wretched mummy, all my strength consumed.\n Must I not trust such oracles as these?\n Yea, though I trust not, must the deed be done; 290\n For many motives now in one converge,\u2014\n The God's command, great sorrow for my father;\n My lack of fortune, this, too, urges me\n Never to leave our noble citizens,\n With noblest courage Tro\u00efa's conquerors,\n To be the subjects to two women thus;\n Yea, his soul is as woman's:[420] an' it be not,\n He soon shall know the issue.\n\n _Chor._ Grant ye from Zeus, O mighty Destinies!\n That so our work may end\n As Justice wills, who takes our side at last; 300\n Now for the tongue of bitter hate let tongue\n Of bitter hate be given. Loud and long\n The voice of Vengeance claiming now her debt;\n And for the murderous blow\n Let him who slew with murderous blow repay.\n \u201cThat the wrong-doer bear the wrong he did,\u201d\n Thrice-ancient saying of a far-off time,[421]\n This speaketh as we speak.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Orest._ O father, sire ill-starred,\n What deed or word could I\n Waft from afar to thee,\n Where thy couch holds thee now, 310\n *To be a light with dark commensurate?\n Alike, in either case,\n The wail that tells their praise is welcome gift\n To those Atreid\u00e6, guardians of our house.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ My child, my child, the mighty jaws of fire[422]\n Bind not the mood and spirit of the dead!\n But e'en when that is past he shows his wrath.\n When he that dies is wailed,\n The murderer stands revealed: 320\n The righteous cry for parents that begat,\n To fullest utterance roused,\n Searches the whole truth out.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Elect._ Hear then, O father, now\n Our tearful griefs in turn;\n From us thy children twain\n The funeral wail ascends;\n And we, as suppliants and as exiles too,\n Find shelter at thy tomb.\n What of all this is good, what void of ills? 330\n Is not this now a woe invincible?\n\n _Chor._ Yet, even yet, from evils such as these,\n God, if He will, may bring more pleasant strains:\n And for the dirge we utter by the tomb,\n A p\u00e6an in the royal house may raise\n Welcome to new-found friend.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n _Orest._ Had'st thou beneath the walls\n Of Ilion, O my sire,\n Been slain by Lykian foe,[423]\n Pierced through and through with spear,\n Leaving high fame at home, 340\n And laying strong and sure\n *Thy children's paths in life,\n Then had'st thou had as thine\n Far off across the sea\n A mound of earth heaped high,\n To all thy kith and kin endurable.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Yea, and as friend with friends\n That nobly died, he then\n Had dwelt in high estate\n A sovereign ruler, held\n Of all in reverence,\n High in their train who rule\n Supreme in that dark world; 350\n For he, too, while he lived,\n As monarch ruled o'er those\n Whose hands the sceptre held\n That mortal men obey.[424]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n _Elect._ Not even 'neath the walls\n Of Tro\u00efa, O my sire,\n With those the spear hath slain,\n Would I have had thee lie\n By fair Scamandros' stream:\n No, this my prayer shall be\n That those who slew thee fall,\n *By their own kin struck down, 360\n That one might hear far off,\n Untried by woes like this,\n The fate that brings inevitable death.\n\n _Chor._ Of blessings more than golden, O my child,\n Greater than greatest fortune, or the bliss\n Of those beyond the North[425] thou speakest now;\n For this is in thy grasp;\n But hold; e'en now this thud of double scourge[426]\n Finds its way on to him;\n Already these find helpers 'neath the earth,\n But of those rulers whom we loathe and hate\n Unholy are the hands: 370\n And children gain the day.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n _Elect._ Ah! this, like arrow, pierces through the ear!\n O Zeus! O Zeus! who sendest from below\n A woe of tardy doom\n Upon the bold and subtle hands of men....\n Nay, though they parents be,\n Yet all shall be fulfilled.\n\n\n STROPHE V\n\n _Chor._ May it be mine to chant o'er funeral pyre\n *Cry well accordant with the pine-fed blaze,[427]\n When first the man is slain,\n And his wife perisheth! 380\n Why should I hide what flutters round my heart?\n On my heart's prow a blast blows mightily,\n Keen wrath and loathing fierce.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n _Orest._ And when shall Zeus, the orphan's guardian true,\n Lay to his hand and smite the guilty heads?\n So may our land learn faith!\n Vengeance I claim from those who did the wrong. 390\n Hear me, O Earth, and ye,\n *Powers held in awe below!\n\n _Chor._ Yea, the law saith that gory drops once shed\n Upon the ground for yet more blood should crave;\n *For lo! fell slaughter on Erinnys calls,\n To come from those that perished long ago,\n And on one sorrow other sorrow bring.\n\n\n STROPHE VI\n\n _Elect._ *Ah, ah, O Earth, and Lords of those below!\n Behold, ye mighty Curses of the slain,\n Behold the remnant of the Atreid\u00e6's house\n Brought to extremest strait, 400\n Bereaved of house and home!\n Whither, O Zeus, can any turn for help?\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE V\n\n _Chor._ Ah, my fond heart is quivering in dismay,\n *Hearing this loud lament most lamentable:\n Now have I little cheer,\n And blackened is my heart,\n *Hearing that speech; but then again when hope\n *On strength uplifts me, far it drives my grief,\n *Propitious seen at last.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VI\n\n _Orest._ What could we speak more fitly than the woes 410\n We suffer, yea, and from a parent's hands?\n Well, she may fawn; our mood remains unsoothed;\n For like a wolf untamed,\n We from our mother take\n A wrathful soul that to no fawning yields.\n\n\n STROPHE VII\n\n _Chor._ *I strike an Arian stroke, and in the strain\n Of Kissian mourner skilled,[428]\n Ye might have seen the stretching forth of hands,\n With rendings of the hair, and random blows,\n In quick succession given,\n Dealt from above with arm at fullest length,\n And with the beating still my head is stunned, 420\n Battered and full of woe.\n\n _Elect._ O mother, hostile found, and daring all!\n With burial as of foe\n Thou had'st the heart a ruler to inter,\n His citizens not there,\n A spouse unwept, with no lamentings loud.\n\n\n STROPHE VIII\n\n _Orest._ Ah! thou hast told the whole full tale of shame;\n Shall she not pay then for that outrage dire\n Unto my father done,\n So far as Gods prevail,\n So far as my hands work?\n May it be mine to smite her and then die! 430\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VII\n\n _Chor._ Yea, he was maimed![429] (that thou the tale may'st know)\n And as she slaughtered, so she buried him,\n Seeking to work a doom\n For thy young life all unendurable.\n Now thou dost hear the woes\n Thy father suffered, stained with foulest shame.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE VIII\n\n _Elect._ Thou tellest of my father's death, but I\n Stood afar off, contemned,\n Counted as nought, and like a curs\u00e8d hound\n Shut up within, I poured the tide of tears\n (More ready they than smiles)\n Uttering in secret wail of weeping full. 440\n Hear thou these things, and write them in my mind.\n\n _Chor._ Let the tale pierce thine ears,\n While thy soul onward moves with tranquil step:\n So much, thou know'st, stands thus;\n Seek thou with all desire to know the rest;\n 'Tis meet to enter now\n Within the lists with mind inflexible.\n\n\n STROPHE IX\n\n _Orest._ I bid thee, O my father, help thy friends.\n\n _Elect._ Bitterly weeping, these my tears I add.\n\n _Chor._ With full accord so cries our company.\n Come then to light, and hear; 450\n Be with us 'gainst our foes.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IX\n\n _Orest._ My Might their Might, my Right their\n Right must meet.\n\n _Elect._ *Ye Gods, give righteous issue in our cause.\n\n _Chor._ Fear creeps upon me as I hear your prayers.\n Long tarries destiny,\n But comes to those who pray.\n\n\n STROPHE X\n\n _Semi-Chor. A._ Oh, woe that haunts the race,\n And harsh, shrill stroke of At\u00e8's bloody scourge!\n Woes sad and hard to bear, 460\n Calling for wailing loud,\n Ah, woe is me, a grief immedicable.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE X\n\n _Semi-Chor. B._ Yea, but as cure for this,\n And healing salve,'tis yours with your own hands,\n With no help from without,\n *To press your suit of blood;\n So runs our hymn to those great Gods below.\n\n _Chor._ Yea, hearing now, ye blest Ones 'neath the earth,\n This prayer, send ye your children timely help\n That worketh victory.\n\n _Orest._ O sire, who in no kingly fashion died'st, 470\n Hear thou my prayer; grant victory o'er this house.\n\n _Elect._ I, father, ask this prayer, that I may work\n *\u00c6gisthos' death, and then acquittal gain.\n\n _Orest._ Yea, thus the banquets that men give the dead\n Would for thee too be held, but otherwise\n *Dishonoured wilt thou lie 'mid those that feast,[430]\n Robbed of thy country's rich burnt-offerings.\n\n _Elect._ I too from out my father's house will bring\n Libations from mine own inheritance,\n As marriage offerings. Chief and first of all,\n Will I do honour to this sepulchre.\n\n _Orest._ Set free my sire, O Earth, to watch the battle. 480\n\n _Elect._ O Persephassa, goodly victory grant!\n\n _Orest._ Remember, sire, the bath in which they slew thee!\n\n _Elect._ *Remember thou the net they handselled so!\n\n _Orest._ In fetters not of brass wast thou snared, father.\n\n _Elect._ Yea, basely with that mantle they devised.\n\n _Orest._ Art thou not roused by these reproaches, father?\n\n _Elect._ Dost thou not lift thine head for those thou lov'st?\n\n _Orest._ Or send thou Vengeance to assist thy friends;\n Or let them get like grasp of those thy foes,\n If thou, o'ercome, dost wish to conquer them. 490\n\n _Elect._ And hear thou this last prayer of mine, my father,\n Seeing us thy nestlings sitting at thy tomb,\n Have mercy on thy boy and on thy girl;\n Nor blot thou out the seed of Pelopids:\n So thou, though thou hast died, art yet not dead;\n For children are the voices that preserve\n Man's memory when he dies: so bear the net\n The corks that float the flax-mesh from the deep.\n Hear thou: This is our wailing cry for thee,\n And thou, our prayer regarding, sav'st thyself. 500\n\n _Chor._ Unblamed have ye your utterance lengthened out,\n Amends for that his tomb's unwept-for lot.\n But as to what remains, since thou'rt resolved\n To act, act now; make trial of thy Fate.\n\n _Orest._ So shall it be. Yet 'tis not out of course\n To ask why she libations sent, why thus\n Too late she cares for ill she cannot cure?\n Yea, to a dead man heeding not 'twas sent,\n A sorry offering. Why, I fail to guess:\n The gifts are far too little for the fault; 510\n For should a man pour all he has to pay\n For one small drop of blood, the toil were vain:\n So runs the saying. But if thou dost know,\n Tell this to me as wishing much to learn.\n\n _Chor._ I know, my child, for I was by. Stirred on\n By dreams and wandering terrors of the night,\n That godless woman these libations sent.\n\n _Orest._ And have ye learnt the dream, to tell it right?\n\n _Chor._ As she doth say, she thought she bare a snake.\n\n _Orest._ How ends the tale, and what its outcome then?\n\n _Chor._ She nursed it, like a child, in swaddling clothes. 520\n\n _Orest._ What food did that young monster crave for then?\n\n _Chor._ She in her dream her bosom gave to it.\n\n _Orest._ How 'scaped her breast by that dread beast unhurt?\n\n _Chor._ Nay, with the milk it sucked out clots of blood.\n\n _Orest._ Ah, not in vain comes this dream from her lord.\n\n _Chor._ She, roused from sleep, cries out all terrified,\n And many torches that were quenched in gloom\n Blazed for our mistress' sake within the house.\n Then these libations for the dead she sends,\n Hoping they'll prove good medicine of ills. 530\n\n _Orest._ Now to Earth here and my sire's tomb I pray\n They leave not this strange vision unfulfilled.\n So I expound it that it all coheres;\n For if, the self-same spot that I left leaving,\n *The snake was then wrapt in my swaddling clothes,\n And sucked the very breast that nourished me,\n And mixed the sweet milk with a clot of blood,\n And she in terror wailed the strange event,\n So must she, as that monster dread she nourished,\n Die cruel death: and I, thus serpentised, 540\n Am here to slay her, as this dream portends;\n I take thee as my dream-interpreter.\n\n _Chor._ So be it; but in all else guide thy friends;\n *Bid some do this, some that, some nought at all.\n\n _Orest._ Simple my orders, that she [_pointing to_ ELECTRA] go within;\n And you, I charge you, hide these plans of mine,\n That they who slew a noble soul by guile,\n By guile may die and in the self-same snare\n Be caught, as Loxias gave his oracle,\n The king Apollo, seer that never lied: 550\n For like a stranger in full harness clad\n Will I draw near with this man, Pylades,\n To the great gates, a stranger I, and he,\n Ally in arms. And then we both will speak\n Parnassian speech, and imitate the tone\n Of Phokian tongue. And should no porter there\n Give us good welcome, on the ground that now\n The house with ills is haunted, there we'll stay,\n So that a man who passeth by the house\n Will guess, and thus will speak, \u201cWhy drives \u00c6gisthos\n The suppliant from his gate, if he's at home\n And knows it?\u201d But if I should pass the threshold 560\n Of the great gate, and find him seated there\n Upon my father's throne, or if he comes\n And meets me, face to face, and lifts his eyes,\n And drops them, then be sure, before he says,\n \u201cWhence is this stranger?\u201d\u2014I will lay him dead,\n With my swift-footed brazen weapon pierced;\n And then Erinnys, stinted not in slaughter,\n Shall drink her third draught of unmingled blood.[431]\n Thou, then, [_to_ ELECTRA] watch well what passes in the house, 570\n So that these things may dovetail close and well:\n And you [_to the Chorus_] I bid to keep a tongue discreet,\n Silent, if need be, or the right word speaking,\n And Him[432] [_pointing to the statue of Apollo_] I call to look upon\n me here,\n Since he has set me on this strife of swords.\n\n [_Exeunt_ ORESTES, PYLADES, _and_ ELECTRA\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Many dread forms of evils terrible\n Earth bears, and Ocean's bays\n With monsters wild and fierce\n *O'erflow, and through mid-air the meteor lights 580\n Sweep by; and wing\u00e8d birds\n And creeping things can tell the vehement rage\n Of whirling storms of winds.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n But who man's temper overbold may tell,\n Or daring passionate loves\n Of women bold in heart,\n Passions close bound with men's calamities?\n Love that true love disowns,\n That sways the weaker sex in brutes and men, 590\n Usurps o'er wedlock's ties.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Whoso is not bird-witted, let him think\n What scheme she learnt to plan,\n Of subtle craft that wrought its will by fire,\n That wretched child of Thestios, who to slay\n Her son did set a-blaze\n The brand that glowed blood-red,\n Which had its birth when first from out the womb\n He came with infant's wail,\n And spanned the measure of its life with his, 600\n On to the destined day.[433]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n Another, too, must we with loathing name,\n Skylla, with blood defiled.[434]\n Who for the sake of foes a dear one slew,\n Won by the gold-chased bracelets brought from Crete,\n The gifts that Minos gave,\n And knowing not the end,\n Robbed Nisos of his lock of deathless life,\n She with her dog-like heart 610\n Surprising him deep-breathing in his sleep;\n But Hermes comes on her.[435]\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And since I tell the tale of ruthless woes....[436]\n Yet now 'tis not the time\n *To tell of evil marriage which this house\n Doth loathe and execrate,\n And of a woman's schemes and stratagems\n Against a warrior chief,\n *Chief whom his people honoured as was meet,\n I give my praise to hearth from hot broils free,\n And praise that woman's mood\n That dares no deed of ill.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n But of all crimes the Lemnian foremost stands[437] 620\n *And the Earth mourns that woe\n As worthy of all loathing. Yes, this guilt\n One might have well compared\n With Lemnian ills; and now that race is gone,\n To lowest shame brought down\n By the foul guilt the Gods abominate:\n For no man honours what the Gods condemn,\n Which instance of all these\n Do I not rightly urge?[438]\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n And now the sword already at the heart,\n Sharp-pointed, strikes a blow that pierces through,\n While Vengeance guides the hand; 630\n For lo! the lawlessness\n Of one who doth transgress all lawlessly\n The might and majesty of Zeus, lies not\n As trampled under foot.[439]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n The anvil-block of Vengeance firm is set,\n And Fate, the swordsmith, hammers on the bronze\n Beforehand; and the child\n Is brought unto his home,\n And in due time the debt of guilt is paid\n By the dark-souled Erinnys, famed of old,\n For blood of former days.\n\n\n ORESTES _and_ PYLADES _enter, disguised as Phokian travellers,\n go to the door of the palace, and knock loudly_\n\n _Orest._ What ho, boy! hear us knocking at the gate. 640\n Who is within, boy? who, boy?\u2014hear, again;\n A third time now I give my summons here,\n If good \u00c6gisthos' house be hospitable.\n\n [_A_ SLAVE _opens the door_\n\n _Slave._ Hold, hold; I hear. What stranger comes, and whence?\n\n _Orest._ Tell thou thy lords who over this house rule,\n To whom I come and tidings new report;\n And make good speed, for now the dusky car\n Of night comes on apace, and it is time\n For travellers in hospitable homes\n To cast their anchor; and let some one come\n From out the house who hath authority; 650\n The lady, if so be one ruleth here,\n But, seemlier far, her lord; for then no shame\n In converse makes our words obscure and dim;\n But man with man gains courage to speak out,\n And makes his mission manifest as day.\n\n _Enter_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ If ye need aught, O strangers, speak; for here\n Is all that's fitting for a house like ours;\n Warm baths,[440] and bed that giveth rest from toil,\n And presence of right honest faces too;\n If there be aught that needeth counsel more,\n That is men's business, and to them we'll tell it. 660\n\n _Orest._ A Daulian traveller, from Phokis come,\n Am I, and as I went on business bound,\n My baggage with me, unto Argos, I\n (Just as I set forth,) met a man I knew not,\n Who knew not me, and he then, having asked\n My way and told me his, the Phokian Strophios\n (For so I learnt in talking) said to me,\n \u201cSince thou dost go, my friend, for Argos bound,\n In any case, tell those who gave him birth,\n Remembering it right well, Orestes' death;\n See thou forget it not, and whether plans 670\n Prevail to fetch him home, or bury him\n There where he is, a stranger evermore,\n Bear back the message as thy freight for us;\n For now the ribbed sides of an urn of bronze\n The ashes hide of one whom men have wept.\u201d\n So much I heard and now have told; and if\n I speak to kin that have a right in him\n I know not, but his father sure should know it.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Ah, thou hast told how utterly our ruin\n Is now complete! O Curse of this our house,\n Full hard to wrestle with! How many things, 680\n Though lying out of reach, thou aimest at,\n And with well-darted arrows from afar\n Dost bring them low! And now thou strippest me,\n Most wretched one, of all that most I loved.\n A lucky throw Orestes now was making,\n Getting his feet from out destruction's slough;\n But now the hope of high, exulting joy,\n *Which this house had as healer, he scores down\n As present in this fashion that we see.\n\n _Orest._ I could have wished to come to prosperous hosts,\n As known and welcomed for my tidings good;\n For who to hosts is friendlier than a guest? 690\n But 'twould have been as impious in my thoughts\n Not to complete this matter for my friends,\n By promise bound and pledged as guest to host.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Thou shalt not meet with less than thou deserv'st;\n Nor wilt thou be to this house less a friend;\n Another would have brought news all the same:\n But since 'tis time that strangers who have made\n A long day's journey find the things they need,\n Lead him [_to her Slave, pointing to_ ORESTES] to these our hospitable\n halls,\n And these his fellow-travellers and servants: 700\n There let them meet with what befits our house.\n I bid thee act as one who gives account;\n And we unto the masters of our house\n Will tell this news, and with no lack of friends\n Deliberate of this calamity.[441]\n\n [_Exeunt_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA, ORESTES, PYLADES,\n _and Attendants_\n\n _Chor._ Come then, handmaids of the palace,\n When shall we with full-pitched voices\n Show our feeling for Orestes?\n O earth revered! thou height revered, too,\n Of the mound piled o'er the body\n Of our navy's kingly captain, 710\n Oh, hear us now; oh, come and help us;\n For 'tis time for subtle Suasion[442]\n To go with them to the conflict,\n And that Hermes act as escort,\n He who dwells in earth's deep darkness,\n In the strife where swords work mischief.\n\n _Enter_ KILISSA\n\n _Chor._ The stranger seems about to work some ill;\n And here I see Orestes' nurse in tears.\n Where then, Kilissa, art thou bound, that thus\n Thou tread'st the palace-gates, and with thee comes\n Grief as a fellow-traveller unbidden? 720\n\n _Kilis._ Our mistress bids me with all speed to call\n \u00c6gisthos to the strangers, that he come\n And hear more clearly, as a man from man,\n This newly-brought report. Before her slaves,\n Under set eyes of melancholy cast,\n She hid her inner chuckle at the events\n That have been brought to pass\u2014too well for her,\n But for this house and hearth most miserably,\u2014\n As in the tale the strangers clearly told.\n He, when he hears and learns the story's gist,\n Will joy, I trow, in heart. Ah, wretched me! 730\n How those old troubles, of all sorts made up,\n Most hard to bear, in Atreus' palace-halls\n Have made my heart full heavy in my breast!\n But never have I known a woe like this.\n For other ills I bore full patiently,\n But as for dear Orestes, my sweet charge,\n Whom from his mother I received and nursed....\n And then the shrill cries rousing me o' nights.\n And many and unprofitable toils\n For me who bore them. For one needs must rear\n The heedless infant like an animal, 740\n (How can it else be?) as his humour serves.\n For while a child is yet in swaddling clothes,\n *It speaketh not, if either hunger comes,\n Or passing thirst, or lower calls of need;\n And children's stomach works its own content.\n And I, though I foresaw this, call to mind\n How I was cheated, washing swaddling clothes,\n And nurse and laundress did the self-same work.\n I then with these my double handicrafts,\n Brought up Orestes for his father dear;\n And now, woe's me! I learn that he is dead, 750\n And go to fetch the man that mars this house:\n And gladly will he hear these words of mine.\n\n _Chor._ And how equipped then doth she bid him come?\n\n _Nurse._ 'How?' Speak again that I may better learn.\n\n _Chor._ By spearmen followed, or himself alone?\n\n _Nurse._ She bids him bring his guards with lances armed.\n\n _Chor._ Nay, say not that to him thy lord doth hate.[443]\n But bid him 'come alone,' (that so he hear\n Without alarm,) 'full speed, with joyous mind,'\n Since 'secret speech with messengers goes best.' 760\n\n _Nurse._ And art thou of good cheer at this my tale?\n\n _Chor._ But what if Zeus will turn the tide of ill?\n\n _Nurse._ How so? Orestes, our one hope is gone.\n\n _Chor._ Not yet; a sorry seer might know thus much.\n\n _Nurse._ What say'st thou? Know'st thou aught besides my tale?\n\n _Chor._ Go tell thy message; do thine errand well:\n The Gods for what they care for, care enough.\n\n _Nurse._ I then will go, complying with thy words:\n May all, by God's gift, end most happily!\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Now to my prayer, O Father of the Gods 770\n Of high Olympos, Zeus,\n Grant that their fortune may be blest indeed\n *Who long to look on goodness prospering well,\n Yea, with full right and truth\n I speak the word\u2014O Zeus, preserve thou him!\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Yea, Zeus, set him whom now the palace holds,\n Set him above his foes;\n For if thou raise him high,\n Then shall thou have, to thy heart's full content,\n Payment of twofold, threefold recompense.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n Know that the son of one who loved thee well 780\n *Like colt of sire bereaved,\n *Is to the chariot of great evils yoked,\n *And set thy limit to his weary path.\n *Ah, would that one might see\n *His panting footsteps, as he treads his course,\n *Keeping due measure through this plain of ours!\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And ye within the gate,\n Ye Gods, in purpose one,\n Who dwell in shrines enriched\n With all good things, come ye,\n And now with vengeance fresh\n Atone for murder foul\n Of those that fell long since: 790\n *And let that blood of old,\n *When these are justly slain,\n Breed no more in our house.\n\n\n MESODE\n\n O Thou[444] that dwellest in the cavern vast,\n Adorned with goodly gifts,\n Grant our lord's house to look up yet once more,\n And that it now may glance,\n In free and glorious guise\n With loving kindly eyes,\n From out its veil of gloom.\n Let Maia's son[445] too give\n His righteous help, and waft\n Good end with prosperous gale.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n *And things that now are hid, 800\n He, if he will, will bring\n As to the daylight clear;\n But when it pleases him\n Dark, hidden words to speak,\n As in thick night he bears\n Black gloom before his face;[446]\n Nor is he in the day\n One whit more manifest.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n *And then our treasured store,[447]\n *The price as ransom paid\n To free the house from ill,\n A woman's gift on breath\n Of favouring breeze onborne,\n We then with clamorous cry,\n To sound of cithern sweet,\n Will in the city pour;\n And if this prospers well,\n *My gains, yea mine, 'twill swell, and At\u00e8 then\n From those I love stands far. 810\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n But thou, take courage, when the time is come\n For action, and cry out,\n Shouting thy father's name,\n When she shall cry aloud the name of \u201cson,\u201d\n And work thou out a woe that none will blame.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n And have thou in thy breast\n The heart that Perseus had,[448]\n And for thy friends beneath,\n And those on earth who dwell,\n Go thou and work the deed\n Acceptable to them, 820\n Of bitter, wrathful mood,\n And consummate within\n *The loathly work of blood;\n [And bidding Vengeance come as thine ally,]\n Destroy the murderer.\n\n _Enter_ \u00c6GISTHOS\n\n _\u00c6gis._ Not without summons came I, but by word\n Of courier fetched, and learn that travellers bring\n Their tale of tidings new, in no wise welcome.\n As for Orestes' death, with it to charge\n The house would be a burden dropping fear\n To one by that old bloodshed sorely stung.[449]\n How shall I count these things? As clear and true?\n Or are they vague reports of woman's fears, 830\n That leap up high and die away to nought?\n What can'st thou say that will my mind inform?\n\n _Chor._ We heard, 'tis true; but go thou in and ask\n Of these same strangers. Nought is found in words\n Of messengers like asking, man from man.\n\n _\u00c6gis._ I wish to see and probe the messenger,\n If he himself were present at the death,\n Or tells it hearing of a vague report:\n They shall not cheat a mind with eyes wide open.\n\n [_Exit_\n\n _Chor._ Zeus! Zeus! what words shall I 840\n Now speak, whence start in prayer,\n *Invoking help of Gods?\n How with all wish for good\n Shall I speak fitting words?\n For now the sharp sword-points,\n Red with the blood of man,\n Will either work for aye\n The utter overthrow\n Of Agamemnon's house,\n Or, kindling fire and torch\n For freedom thus achieved,\n Will he the sceptre wield\n Of duly-ordered sway,\n His father's pride and state: 850\n Such is the contest he,\n Orestes, godlike one,\n Now wages all alone,\n The one sole combatant,[450]\n In place of him who fell,\n Against those twain. May victory be his!\n\n _\u00c6gisth._ [_groaning within_] Ah! ah! Woe's me!\n\n _Chor._ Hark! hark! How goes it now?\n What issue has been wrought within the house?\n Let us hold back while they the deed are doing,\n That we may seem as guiltless of these ills:\n For surely now the fight has reached its end.\n\n _Enter_ Servant _from the chief door_\n\n _Serv._ Alas! alas! my master perishes! 860\n Alas! alas! a third time yet I call.\n \u00c6gisthos is no more; but open now\n With all your speed, and loosen ye the bolts\n That bar the women's gates. A man's full strength\n Is needed; not indeed that that would help\n A man already slain.\n\n [_Rushes to the gate of the woman's half of the\n palace_\n\n Ho there! I say:\n I speak to the deaf; to those that sleep I utter\n In vain my useless cries. And where is she?\n Where's Clyt\u00e6mnestra? What doth she do now?\n Her neck upon the razor's edge doth seem\n To fall, down-stricken by a vengeance just. 870\n\n _Enter_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA _from the side door_\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ What means all this? What cry is this thou mak'st?\n\n _Serv._ I say the dead are killing one who lives.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Ah, me! I see the drift of thy dark speech;\n By guile we perish, as of old we slew:\n Let some one hand at once axe strong to slay;\n Let's see if we are conquered or can conquer,\n For to that point of evil am I come.\n\n _Enter_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES _from the other door_\n\n _Orest._ 'Tis thou I seek: he there has had enough.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Ah me! my loved \u00c6gisthos! Art thou dead?\n\n _Orest._ Lov'st thou the man? Then in the self-same tomb 880\n Shalt thou now lie, nor in his death desert him.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ [_baring her bosom_] Hold, boy! Respect\n this breast of mine, my son,[451]\n Whence thou full oft, asleep, with toothless gums,\n Hast sucked the milk that sweetly fed thy life.\n\n _Orest._ What shall I do, my Pylades? Shall I\n Through this respect forbear to slay my mother?\n\n _Pyl._[452] Where, then, are Loxias' other oracles,\n The Pythian counsels, and the fast-sworn vows?\n Have all men hostile rather than the Gods.\n\n _Orest._ My judgment goes with thine; thou speakest well:\n [_To_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA] Follow: I mean to slay thee where he lies,890\n For while he lived thou held'st him far above\n My father. Sleep thou with him in thy death,\n Since thou lov'st him, and whom thou should'st love hatest.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ I reared thee, and would fain grow old with thee.\n\n _Orest._ What! Thou live with me, who did'st slay my father?\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Fate, O my son, must share the blame of that.\n\n _Orest._ This fatal doom, then, it is Fate that sends.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Dost thou not fear a parent's curse, my son?\n\n _Orest._ Thou, though my mother, did'st to ill chance cast me.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ No outcast thou, so sent to house allied. 900\n\n _Orest._ I was sold doubly, though of free sire born.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Where is the price, then, that I got for thee?\n\n _Orest._ I shrink for shame from pressing that charge home.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Nay, tell thy father's wantonness as well.\n\n _Orest._ Blame not the man who toils when thou'rt at ease.[453]\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ 'Tis hard, my son, for wives to miss their husband.\n\n _Orest._ The husband's toil keeps her that sits at home.[453]\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Thou seem'st, my son, about to slay thy mother.\n\n _Orest._ It is not I that slay thee, but thyself.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Take heed, beware a mother's vengeful hounds.[454] 910\n\n _Orest._ How, slighting this, shall I escape my father's?\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ I seem in life to wail as to a tomb.[455]\n\n _Orest._ My father's fate ordains this doom for thee.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Ah me! the snake is here I bare and nursed.[456]\n\n _Orest._ An o'er-true prophet was that dread dream-born;\n Thou slewest one thou never should'st have slain,\n Now suffer fate should never have been thine.\n\n [_Exit_ ORESTES, _leading_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA _into the\n palace, and followed by_ PYLADES\n\n _Chor._ E'en of these two I wail the twin mischance;\n But since long line of murder culminates\n In poor Orestes, this we yet accept,\n That he, our one light, fall not utterly. 920\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Late came due vengeance on the sons of Priam,\n Just forfeit of sore woe;\u2014\n Late came there too to Agamemnon's house,\n Twin lions, twofold Death.[457]\n The exile who obeyed the Pythian hest\n Hath gained his full desire,\n Sped on his way by counsel from the Gods.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Shout ye, loud shout for the escape from ills\n Our master's house has seen,\n And from the wasting of his ancient wealth\n By that defil\u00e8d pair, 930\n Ill fate intolerable.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n And so on one who loves the war of guile\n Revenge came subtle-souled;\n And in the strife of hands the child of Zeus\n In very deed gave help,\n (We mortals call her Vengeance, hitting well\n The meetest name for her,)\n Breathing destroying wrath against her foes.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n She, she it is whom Loxias summons now, 940\n Who dwelleth in Parnassia's cavern vast,\n *Calling on her who still\n *Is guileful without guile,\n *Halting of foot and tarrying over-long:\n The will of Gods is strangely overruled;\n It may not help the vile;[458]\n 'Tis meet to adore the Power that rules in Heaven:\n At last we see the light.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n *Now is the bit that curbed the slaves ta'en off:[459]\n Arise, arise, O house:\n Too long, too long, all prostrate on the ground 950\n Ye have been used to lie.\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n Quickly all-working Time will bring a change\n Across the threshold of the palace old,\n When from the altar-hearth\n It shall drive all the guilt,\n With cleansing rites that chase away our woes;\n And Fortune's throws shall fall with gladsome cast,\n *Once more benign to see,[460]\n For new-come strangers settled in the house:\n At last we see the light.\n\n _Enter_ ORESTES, PYLADES, _and followers from the palace. His\n attendants bear the robe in which_ AGAMEMNON _had been murdered_\n\n _Orest._ See ye this country's tyrant rulers twain, 960\n My father's murderers, wasters of his house;\n Stately were they, seen sitting on their thrones,\n Friends too e'en now, to argue from their fate,\n Whose oaths are kept to every pledge they gave.\n Firmly they swore that they would slay my father,\n And die together. Well those oaths are kept:\n And ye who hear these ills, behold ye now\n Their foul device, as bonds for my poor father,\n Handcuffs, and fetters both his feet to bind.\n Come, stretch it out, and standing all around, 970\n Show ye the snare that wrapt him o'er, that He\n May see, our Father,\u2014not of mine I speak,\n But the great Sun that looks on all we do,\u2014\n My mother's deeds, defil\u00e8d and impure,\n That He may be a witness in my cause,\n That I did justly bring this doom to pass\n Upon my mother.... Of \u00c6gisthos' fate\n No word I speak. He bears the penalty,\n As runs the law, of an adulterer's guilt;\n But she who planned this crime against a man\n By whom she knew the weight of children borne\n Beneath her girdle, once a burden loved,\n But now, as it is proved, a grievous ill, 980\n What seems she to you? Had she viper been,\n Or fell myr\u00e6na,[461] she with touch alone,\n *Rather than bite, had made a festering sore\n With that bold daring of unrighteous mood.\n What shall I call it, using mildest speech?\n A wild beast's trap?\u2014a pall that wraps a bier,\n And hides a dead man's feet?\u2014A net, I trow,\n A snare, a robe entangling, one might call it.\n Such might be owned by one to plunder trained,\n Practised in duping travellers, and the life\n That robs men of their money; with this trap 990\n Destroying many, many deeds of ill\n His fevered brain might hatch. May such as she\n Ne'er share my dwelling! May the hand of God\n Far rather smite me that I childless die!\n\n _Chor._ [_looking on_ AGAMEMNON'S _robe._] Ah me! ah me! these deeds\n most miserable!\n By hateful murder thou wast done to death.\n Woe, woe is me!\n And evil buds and blooms for him that's left.\n\n _Orest._ Was the deed hers or no? Lo! this same robe\n Bears witness how she dyed \u00c6gisthos' sword,\n And the blood-stain helps Time's destroying work, 1000\n Marring full many a tint of pattern fair:\n *Now name I it, now as eye-witness wail;[462]\n And calling on this robe that slew my father,\n Moan for all done and suffered, wail my race,\n Bearing the foul stains of this victory.\n\n _Chor._ No mortal man shall live a life unharmed,\n *Stout-hearted and rejoicing evermore.\n Woe, woe is me!\n One trouble vexes now, another comes.\n\n _Orest._ (_wildly, as one distraught._) Nay, know ye\u2014for I know not how\n 'twill end;1010\n Like chariot-driver with his steeds I'm dragged\n Out of my course; for passion's moods uncurbed\n Bear me their victim headlong. At my heart\n Stands terror ready or to sing or dance\n In burst of frenzy. While my reason stays,\n I tell my friends here that I slew my mother,\n Not without right, my father's murderess,\n Accursed, and hated of the Gods. And I\n As chiefest spell that made me dare this deed\n Count Loxias, Pythian prophet, warning me\n That doing this I should be free from blame, 1020\n But slighting.... I pass o'er the penalty[463]....\n For none, aim as he will, such woes will hit.\n And now ye see me, in what guise equipped,\n\n [_Putting on the suppliant's wreaths of wool, and\n taking an olive branch in his hand_\n\n With this my bough and chaplet I will gain\n Earth's central shrine, the home where Loxias dwells,\n And the bright fire that is as deathless known,[464]\n Seeking to 'scape this guilt of kindred blood;\n And on no other hearth, so Loxias bade,\n May I seek shelter. And I charge you all,\n Ye Argives, bear ye witness in due time 1030\n How these dark deeds of wretched ill were wrought:\n But I, a wanderer, exiled from my land,\n Shall live, and leaving these my prayers in death,...\n\n _Chor._ Nay, thou hast prospered: burden not thy lips\n With evil speech, nor speak ill-boding words,\n When thou hast freed the Argive commonwealth,\n By good chance lopping those two serpents' heads.\n\n [_The Erinnyes are seen in the background, visible\n to_ ORESTES _only, in black robes, and with\n snakes in their hair_\n\n _Orest._ Ah! ah! ye handmaids: see, like Gorgons these,\n Dark-robed, and all their tresses hang entwined\n With many serpents. I can bear no more.\n\n _Chor._ What phantoms vex thee, best beloved of sons 1040\n By thy dear sire? Hold, fear not, victory's thine.\n\n _Orest._ These are no phantom terrors that I see:\n Full clear they are my mother's vengeful hounds.\n\n _Chor._ The blood fresh-shed is yet upon thy hands,\n And thence it is these troubles haunt thy soul.\n\n _Orest._ O King Apollo! See, they swarm, they swarm,\n And from their eyes is dropping loathsome blood.\n\n _Chor._ One way of cleansing is there; Loxias' form\n Clasp thou, and he will free thee from these ills.\n\n _Orest._ These forms ye see not, but I see them there:\n They drive me on, and I can bear no more. [_Exit_\n\n _Chor._ Well, may'st thou prosper; may the gracious God 1050\n Watch o'er and guard thee with a chance well timed!\n\n Here, then, upon this palace of our kings\n A third storm blows again;\n The blast that haunts the race has run its course.\n First came the wretched meal of children's flesh;\n Next what befell our king:\n Slain in the bath was he who ruled our host,\n Of all the Ach\u00e6ans lord;\n And now a third has come, we know not whence,[465]\n To save ... or shall I say,\n To work a doom of death?\n Where will it end? Where will it cease at last,\n The mighty At\u00e8 dread,\n Lulled into slumber deep?\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 401:\n\n Hermes is invoked, (1) as the watcher over the souls of the dead in\n Hades, and therefore the natural patron of the murdered Agamemnon; (2)\n as exercising an authority delegated by Zeus, and therefore capable of\n being, like Zeus himself, the deliverer and helper of suppliants. So\n Electra, further on, invokes Hermes in the same character. The line\n may, however, be rendered,\n\n \u201cWho stand'st as guardian of my father's house.\u201d\n\n The three opening lines are noticeable, as having been chosen by\n Aristophanes as the special object for his satirical criticism\n (_Frogs_, 1126-1176), abounding in a good score of ambiguities and\n tautologies.\n\nFootnote 402:\n\n The words point to the two symbolic aspects of one and the same\n practice. In both there are some points of analogy with the earlier\n and later forms of the Nazarite vow among the Jews. (1) As being part\n of the body, and yet separable from it without mutilation, it became\n the representative of the whole man, and as such was the sign of a\n votive dedication. As early as Homer, it was the custom of youths to\n keep one long, flowing lock as consecrated, and when they reached\n manhood, they cut it off, and offered it to the river-god of their\n country, throwing it into the stream, as that to which, directly and\n indirectly, they owed their nurture. Here the offering is made to\n Inachos, as the hero-founder of Argos, identified with the river that\n bore his name. (2) They shaved their head, wholly or in part, as a\n token as a token of grief, and then, because true grief for the dead\n was an acceptable and propitiatory offering, this became the natural\n offering for suppliants who offered their prayers at the tombs of the\n departed. So in the _Aias_ of Sophocles (v. 1174) Teucros calls on\n Eurysakes to approach the corpse of his father, holding in his hand\n locks of his own hair, his mother's, and that of Teucros. In the\n offering which Achilles makes over the grave of Patroclos of the hair\n which he had cherished for the river-god of his fatherland,\n Spercheios, we have the union of the two customs. Homer. _Il._ xxiii.\n 141-151.\n\nFootnote 403:\n\n After the widespread fashion of the East, the handmaids of\n Clyt\u00e6mnestra (originally Tro\u00efan captives) had to rend their clothes,\n beat their breasts, and lacerate their faces till the blood came. The\n higher civilisation of Solon's laws had forbidden these wild,\n barbarous forms of grief at Athens. Plutarch, _Solon_, p. 164.\n\nFootnote 404:\n\n Purposely, perhaps, obscure. They seem to say that the old reverence\n for Agamemnon has passed away, and instead of it there is only a\n slavish fear for \u00c6gisthos. For the more acute, however, they imply\n that those who have cause to fear are \u00c6gisthos and Clyt\u00e6mnestra\n themselves.\n\nFootnote 405:\n\n The words, in their generalising sententiousness, refer specially to\n the twofold crime of \u00c6gisthos as an adulterer and murderer. Then, in\n the Epode, the Chorus justify themselves for their seeming\n inconsistency in thus abhorring the guilt, and yet acting as\n instruments of the guilty in their attempts to escape punishment.\n\nFootnote 406:\n\n The mourners speak, of course, of Agamemnon and Orestes, not of\n \u00c6gisthos and Clyt\u00e6mnestra.\n\nFootnote 407:\n\n A mixture of meal, honey, and oil formed the half-liquid substance\n commonly used for these funereal libations. The \u201cgarlands\u201d may be\n wreaths of flowers or fillets, or the word may be used figuratively\n for the libation itself, as crowning the mound in which Agamemnon lay.\n\nFootnote 408:\n\n The words point to a strange Athenian custom. When a house was\n cleansed of that which defiled it, morally or physically, the filth\n was carried in an earthen vessel to a place where three ways met, and\n the worshipper flung the vessel behind him, and walked away without\n turning to look at it. To Electra's mind, the libation which her\n mother sends is equally unclean, and should be treated in the same\n way. So in Hom. _Il._ i. 314, the Argives purify themselves, and then\n cast the lustral water they have used into the sea. Lev. vi. 11, gives\n us an analogous usage. Comp. also Theocritos, _Idyll_ xxiv., vv.\n 22-97.\n\nFootnote 409:\n\n Partly it is the youth of Electra that seeks counsel from those who\n had more experience; partly she shrinks from the responsibility of\n being the first to utter the formula of execration.\n\nFootnote 410:\n\n The word \u201cescort\u201d has a special reference to the function of Hermes in\n the unseen world. As he was wont to act as guide to the souls of the\n dead in their downward journey, so now Electra prays that he may lead\n the blessings she asks for upward from the dark depths of Earth.\n\nFootnote 411:\n\n The Skythian bow, long and elastic, bending either way, like those of\n the Arabians (Herod. vii. 69). The connection of Ares with the wild,\n fierce tribes of Thrakia and Skythia meets us again and again in the\n literature of Greece. He was the only God to whom they built temples\n (_ibid._ iv. 59). They sacrificed human victims to an iron sword as\n his more appropriate symbol (iv. 62). The use of iron for weapons of\n war came to the Greeks from them (_Seven ag. Th._ 729; _Prom._ 714).\n\nFootnote 412:\n\n It may be worth while to compare the method adopted by the three\n dramatists of Greece in bringing about the recognition of the brother\n by the sister. (1) Here the lock of hair, in its peculiar colour and\n texture resembling her own, followed by the likeness of his footsteps\n to hers, prepares the way first for vague anticipations, and then the\n robe she had made for him, leads to her acceptance of Orestes on his\n own discovery of himself. To this it has been objected, by Euripides\n in the first instance (_Electra_, vv. 462-500), that the evidence of\n the colour of the hair is weak, that a young man's foot must have been\n larger than a maiden's, and that he could not have worn as a man the\n garment she had made for him as a child. It might be replied, perhaps,\n that there are such things as hereditary resemblances extending to the\n colour of the hair and the arch of the instep, and that the robe may\n either have been shown instead of worn, or, being worn, have been\n adapted for the larger growth. (2) In the _Electra_ of Sophocles the\n lock of hair alone convinces Chrysothemis that her brother is near at\n hand (v. 900), while Electra herself requires the further evidence of\n Agamemnon's seal (v. 1223). In Euripides (v. 527), all proof fails\n till Orestes shows a scar on his brow, which his sister remembers.\n\nFootnote 413:\n\n The saying is probably one of the widespread proverbs which imply\n parables. The idea is obviously that with which we are familiar in the\n Gospel \u201cgrain of mustard seed.\u201d Here, as in the \u201ckicking against the\n pricks\u201d of Acts ix. 5, xxvi. 14, and _Agam._ v. 1604, we are carried\n back to a period which lies beyond the range of history as that in\n which men took note of the analogies and embodied them in forms like\n this.\n\nFootnote 414:\n\n So in the _Odyssey_ (xix. 228), Odysseus appears as wearing a woollen\n cloak, on which are embroidered the figures of a fawn and a dog.\n\nFootnote 415:\n\n An obvious reproduction of the words of Andromache (_Il._ vi. 429).\n\nFootnote 416:\n\n The words seem to imply that burning alive was known among the Greeks\n as a punishment for the most atrocious crimes. The \u201coozing pitch,\u201d if\n we adopt that rendering, apparently describes something like the\n \u201c_tunica molesta_\u201d of Juvenal. (_Sat._ viii. 235.) Hesychios (s. v.\n \u039a\u03c9\u03bd\u1fc6\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9) mentions the practice as alluded to in a lost play of\n \u00c6schylos.\n\nFootnote 417:\n\n The words are both doubtful and obscure. Taking the reading which I\n have adopted, they seem to mean that while men in general had means of\n propitiating the Erinnyes and other Powers for the guilt of unavenged\n bloodshed, Orestes and Electra had no such way of escape open to them.\n If they, the next of kin, failed to do their work, they would be\n exposed to the full storm of wrath. But a conjectural emendation of\n one word gives us,\n\n \u201cFor making known to men the earth-born ills\n That come from wrathful Powers.\u201d\n\nFootnote 418:\n\n Either that old age would come prematurely, or that the hair itself\n would share the leprous whiteness of the flesh.\n\nFootnote 419:\n\n The words, as taken in the text, refer to Orestes seeing even in sleep\n the spectral forms of the Erinnyes. By some editors the verse is\n placed after v. 276, and the lines then read thus:\u2014\n\n \u201cAnd that he calls fresh onsets of the Erinnyes\n As brought to issue from a father's blood,\n Seeing clearly, though he move his brow in darkness.\u201d\n\n So taken, the last line refers to Agamemnon, who, though in the\n darkness of Hades, sees the penalties which will fail upon his son\n should he neglect to take vengeance on his father's murderers.\n\nFootnote 420:\n\n Stress is laid here, as in _Agam._ 1224, on the effeminacy of the\n adulterer.\n\nFootnote 421:\n\n The great law of retribution is repeated from _Agam._ 1564. As one of\n the earliest utterances of man's moral sense, it was referred\n popularly among the Greeks to Rhadamanthos, who with Minos judged the\n souls of the dead in Hades. Comp. Aristot. _Ethic. Nicom._, v. 8.\n\nFootnote 422:\n\n The funeral pyre, which consumes the body, leaves the life and power\n of the man untouched. The spirit survives, and calls on the Gods that\n dwell in darkness to avenge him. The very cry of wailing tends, as a\n prayer to them, to the exposure of the murderer.\n\nFootnote 423:\n\n The Lykians, of whom Glaucos and Sarpedon are the representative\n heroes in the _Iliad_, are named as the chief allies of the Tro\u00efans.\n\nFootnote 424:\n\n The words embody the widespread feeling that the absence of funereal\n honours affected the spirit of the dead, and that the souls with whom\n he dwelt held him in high or low esteem according as they had been\n given or withheld.\n\nFootnote 425:\n\n Pindar (_Pyth._ x. 47), the contemporary of \u00c6schylos, had made the\n name of these Hyperborei well known to all Greeks. The vague dreams of\n men, before the earth had been searched out, pictured a happy land as\n lying beyond their reach. There were Islands of the Blest in the far\n West; \u00c6thiopians, peaceful and long-lived, in the South; and far away,\n beyond the cold North, a people exempt from the common evils of\n humanity. The latter have been connected with the old Aryan belief in\n the paradise of Mount Meru. Comp. also Herod. iv. 421; _Prom._ 812.\n\nFootnote 426:\n\n _Sc._, the beating of both hands upon the breast, as the Chorus\n uttered their lamentations.\n\nFootnote 427:\n\n Perhaps, simply \u201cthe sharp and bitter cry.\u201d But the rendering in the\n text seems justified as repeating the wish already expressed (v. 260),\n that the murderers may die by this form of death.\n\nFootnote 428:\n\n The Chorus at this point renew their words and cries of lamentation,\n smiting on their breasts. By some critics this speech and Antistrophe\n VII. are assigned to Electra, Antistrophe VIII. to the Chorus, with a\n corresponding change in the pronouns \u201cmy\u201d and \u201cthy.\u201d The Chorus, as\n consisting of Tro\u00efan captives, is represented as adopting the more\n vehement Asiatic forms of wailing. Among these the Arians, Kissians,\n and Mariandynians (_Pers._ 920) seem to have been most conspicuous for\n their skill in lamentation, and, as such, were in request where hired\n mourners were wanted. Compare the opening chorus, v. 22.\n\nFootnote 429:\n\n The practice of mutilating the corpse of a murdered man by cutting off\n his hands and feet and fastening them round his waist, seems to have\n been looked on as rendering him powerless to seek for vengeance. Comp.\n Soph. _Elect._ v. 437. This kind of mutilation, and not mere wanton\n outrage, is what the Chorus refer to.\n\nFootnote 430:\n\n As in v. 351 the loss of honour among the dead was represented as one\n consequence of the absence of funereal rites from those who loved the\n dead, so here the restoration of the children to their rights appears\n as the condition without which that dishonour must continue. If they\n succeed, then, and then only, can they offer funereal banquets, year\n by year, as was the custom. There may be a special reference to an\n Argive custom mentioned by Plutarch (_Qu\u00e6st. Gr\u00e6c._, c. 24) of\n sacrificing immediately after the death of a relative to Apollo, and\n thirty days later to Hermes.\n\nFootnote 431:\n\n Another reference to the third cup of undiluted wine which men drank\n to the honour of Zeus the Preserver. Comp. _Agam._ v. 245.\n\nFootnote 432:\n\n Possibly the pronoun refers to Pylades.\n\nFootnote 433:\n\n The story of Alth\u00e6a has perhaps been made most familiar to English\n readers by Mr. Swinburne's _Atalanta in Calydon_. More briefly told,\n the legend ran that she, being the wife of \u0152neus, bare a son, who was\n believed to be the child of Ares\u2014that the Fates came to her when the\n boy, who was named Meleagros, was seven days old, and told her that\n his life should last until the firebrand then burning on the earth\n should be consumed. She took the firebrand and quenched it, and laid\n it by in a chest; but when Meleagros grew up, he joined in the chase\n of the great boar of Calydon, and when he had slain it, gave the skin\n as a trophy to Atalanta, and when his mother's brothers, the sons of\n Thestios, claimed it as their right, he waxed wroth with them and slew\n them. And then Alth\u00e6a, in her grief, caring more for her brothers than\n her son, took the brand from the chest, and threw it into the fire,\n and so Meleagros died. Phrynichos is said to have made the myth the\n subject of a drama. In Homer (_Il._ x. 566), Alth\u00e6a brings about her\n son's death by her curses.\n\nFootnote 434:\n\n Skylla (not to be confounded with the sea-monster of Messina) was the\n daughter of Nisos, king of Megaris, who had on his head a lock of\n purple hair, which was a charm that preserved his life from all\n danger. And the Cretans under Minos attacked Nisos, and besieged him\n in his city; and Minos won the love of Skylla, and tempted her with\n gifts, and she cut off her father's lock of hair, and so he perished.\n But Minos, scorning her for her deed, bound her by the feet to the\n stern of his ship and drowned her.\n\nFootnote 435:\n\n Hermes, _i.e._, in his office as the escort of the souls of the dead\n to Hades.\n\nFootnote 436:\n\n The Chorus apparently is represented as on the point of completing its\n catalogue of crimes committed by women with the story of\n Clyt\u00e6mnestra's guilt. Something leads them to check themselves, and\n they are contented with a dark and vague allusion.\n\nFootnote 437:\n\n The story of the Lemnian women is told by Herodotos (vi. 138). They\n rose up against their husbands and put them all to death; and the deed\n passed into a proverb, so that all great crimes were spoken of as\n Lemnian. This guilt is that alluded to in Strophe III.\n\nFootnote 438:\n\n In every case of which the Chorus had spoken guilt had been followed\n by retribution. So, it is implied, it will be in that which is present\n to their thoughts.\n\nFootnote 439:\n\n _Sc._, is not forgotten or overlooked, but will assuredly meet with\n its due punishment.\n\nFootnote 440:\n\n So in Homer (_Il._ xxii. 444), the warm bath is prepared by Andromache\n for Hector on his return from the battle in which he fell.\n\nFootnote 441:\n\n As in her speeches in the _Agamemnon_ (vv. 595, 884), Clyt\u00e6mestra's\n words here also are full of significant ambiguity. The \u201cthings that\n befit the house,\u201d the proposed conference with \u00c6gisthos, her\n separation of Orestes from his companions, are all indications of\n suspicion already half aroused. The last three lines were probably\n spoken as an \u201caside.\u201d\n\nFootnote 442:\n\n Suasion is personified, and invoked to come and win Clyt\u00e6mnestra to\n trust herself in the power of the two avengers.\n\nFootnote 443:\n\n An alternative rendering is,\n\n \u201cNay, say not that to him with show of hate.\u201d\n\nFootnote 444:\n\n Apollo in the shrine at Delphi.\n\nFootnote 445:\n\n Hermes invoked once more, as at once the patron of craft and the\n escort of the dead.\n\nFootnote 446:\n\n Or \u201cbefore our eyes.\u201d\n\nFootnote 447:\n\n The \u201ctreasured score\u201d is explained by the words that follow to mean\n the cry of exultation which the Chorus will raise when the deed of\n vengeance is accomplished; or, possibly (as Mr. Paley suggests), the\n funereal wail over the bodies of \u00c6gisthos and Clyt\u00e6mnestra, which the\n Chorus would raise to avert the guilt of the murder from Orestes.\n\nFootnote 448:\n\n As Perseus could only overcome the Gorgon, Medusa, by turning away his\n eyes, lest looking on her he should turn to stone, so Orestes was to\n avoid meeting his mother's glance, lest that should unman him and\n blunt his purpose.\n\nFootnote 449:\n\n \u00c6gisthos had suffered enough, he says, for his share in Agamemnon's\n death. He has no wish that fresh odium should fall on him, as being\n implicated also in the death of Orestes, of which he has just heard.\n\nFootnote 450:\n\n The word (_ephedros_) was applied technically to one who sat by during\n a conflict between two athletes, prepared to challenge the victor to a\n fresh encounter. Orestes is such a combatant, taking the place of\n Agamemnon.\n\nFootnote 451:\n\n So, in Homer (_Il._ xxii. 79), Hecuba, when the entreaties of Priam\n had been in vain, makes this last appeal\u2014\n\n \u201cThen to the front his mother rushed, in tears,\n Her bosom bare, with either hand her breast\n Sustaining, and with tears addressed him thus,\n 'Hector, my son, thy mother's breast revere.'\u201d\n\nFootnote 452:\n\n The reader will note this as the only speech put into the lips of\n Pylades, though he is present as accompanying Orestes throughout great\n part of the drama.\n\nFootnote 453:\n\n The different ethical standard applied to the guilt of the husband and\n the wife was, we may well believe, that which prevailed among the\n Athenians generally. It has only too close a parallel in the ballads\n and romances of our own early literature.\n\nFootnote 454:\n\n The line is memorable as prophetic of the whole plot of the\n _Eumenides._\n\nFootnote 455:\n\n The phrase \u201cwail as to a tomb\u201d seems to have been a by-word for\n fruitless entreaty and lamentation.\n\nFootnote 456:\n\n Clyt\u00e6mnestra sees now the important of the dream referred to in vv.\n 518-522.\n\nFootnote 457:\n\n The words must be left in their obscurity. Commentators have\n conjectured Orestes and Pylades, or the deaths of Agamemnon and\n Iphigeneia, or those of \u00c6gisthos and Clyt\u00e6mnestra, as the \u201ctwo lions,\u201d\n spoken of. The first seems most in harmony with the context.\n\nFootnote 458:\n\n The Eternal Justice which orders all things is mightier than any\n arbitrary will, such as men attribute to the Gods. That will, even if\n we dare to think of it as changeable or evil, is held in restraint. It\n cannot, even if it would, protect the evildoers.\n\nFootnote 459:\n\n The Chorus feel that they have been too long silent; now, at last,\n they can speak. As slaves dreading punishment they had been gagged\n before; now the gag is removed.\n\nFootnote 460:\n\n Or, \u201cOnce more for those who wail.\u201d\n\nFootnote 461:\n\n It is not clear with what form of animal life the _myr\u00e6na_ is to be\n identified. The ideal implied is that of some sea-monster whose touch\n was poisonous, but this does not hold good of the \u201clamprey.\u201d\n\nFootnote 462:\n\n As the text stands, Orestes says that at last he can speak of the\n murder over which he had long brooded in silence. Another reading\n makes him speak of the oscillations in his own mind\u2014\n\n \u201cNow do I praise myself, now wail and blame.\u201d\n\nFootnote 463:\n\n Comp. vv. 270-288.\n\nFootnote 464:\n\n Delphi was to the Greek (as Jerusalem was to medi\u00e6val Christendom) the\n centre at once of his religious life and of the material earth. Its\n rock was the _omphalos_ of the world. Consecrated widows watched over\n the sacred and perpetual fire. Once only up to the time of \u00c6schylos,\n when the Temple itself was desecrated by the Persians, had it ceased\n to burn.\n\nFootnote 465:\n\n Once again we have the thought of the third cup offered as a libation\n to Zeus as saviour and deliverer. The Chorus asks whether this third\n deed of blood will be true to that idea and work out deliverance.\n\n\n\n\n EUMENIDES\n\n\n DRAMATIS PERSON\u00c6\n\n PYTHIAN PRIESTESS\n APOLLO\n ATHENA\n _Ghost of Clyt\u00e6mnestra_\n ORESTES\n HERMES\n _Chorus of the Erinnyes_\n _Athenian Citizens, Women, and Girls_\n\n\n_ARGUMENT.\u2014The Erinnyes who appeared to Orestes after the murder of\nClyt\u00e6mnestra made his life miserable, and drove him without rest from\nland to land. And he, seeking to escape them, had recourse to the Oracle\nof Apollo at Delphi, believing that he who had sent him to do the work\nof vengeance would also help to free him from this wretchedness. But the\nErinnyes followed him there also, and took their places even within the\nholy shrine of the Oracle, and while Orestes knelt on the central hearth\nas a suppliant, they sat upon the seats there, and for very weariness\nfell asleep._\n\n\n\n\n EUMENIDES\n\n\n SCENE.\u2014_The Outer Court of the Oracle at_ Delphi. _Inner shrine in\n the background, with doors leading into it_\n\n _Enter the_ PYTHIAN PRIESTESS\n\n _Pyth._ First, with this prayer, of all the Gods I honour\n The primal seeress Earth, and Themis next,[466]\n Who in due order filled her mother's place,\n (So runs the tale,) and in the third lot named,\n With her good-will and doing wrong to none,\n Another of the Titans' offspring sat,\n Earth's daughter Ph\u0153be, and as birthday gift\n She gives it up to Ph\u0153bos,[467] and he takes\n His name from Ph\u0153be. And he, leaving then\n The pool[468] and rocks of Delos, having steered\n To the ship-traversed shores that Pallas owns, 10\n Came to this land and to Parnassos' seat:\n And with great reverence they escort him on,\n Heph\u00e6stos' sons, road-makers,[469] turning thus\n The wilderness to land no longer wild;\n And when he comes the people honour him,\n And Delphos too,[470] chief pilot of this land.\n And him Zeus sets, his mind with skill inspired,\n As the fourth seer upon these sacred seats;\n And Loxias is his father Zeus's prophet.\n These Gods in prologue of my prayer I worship; 20\n Pallas Pronaia[471] too claims highest praise;\n The Nymphs adore I too where stands the rock\n Korykian,[472] hollow, loved of birds and haunt\n Of Gods. [And Bromios[473] also claims this place,\n Nor can I now forget it, since the time\n When he, a God, with help of Bacchants warred,\n And planned a death for Pentheus, like a hare's.[474]\n Invoking Pleistos'[475] founts, Poseidon's might,\n And Zeus most High, supreme Accomplisher,\n I in due order sit upon this seat\n As seeress, and I pray them that they grant\n To find than all my former divinations 30\n One better still. If Hellas pilgrims sends,\n Let them approach by lot, as is our law;\n For as the God guides I give oracles.[476]\n\n [_She passes through the door to the adytum,\n and after a pause returns trembling and\n crouching with fear, supporting herself\n with her hands against the walls and\n columns. The door remains open, and\n Orestes and the Erinnyes are seen in the\n inner sanctuary_\n\n Dread things to tell, and dread for eyes to see,\n Have sent me back again from Loxias' shrine,\n *So that strength fails, nor can I nimbly move,\n But run with help of hands, not speed of foot;\n A woman old and terrified is nought,\n A very child. Lo! into yon recess\n With garlands hung I go, and there I see\n Upon the central stone[477] a God-loathed man, 40\n Sitting as suppliant, and with hands that dripped\n Blood-drops, and holding sword but newly drawn,\n And branch of olive from the topmost growth,\n With amplest tufts of white wool meetly wreathed;\n For this I will say clearly.[478] And a troop\n Of women strange to look at sleepeth there,\n Before this wanderer, seated on their stools;\n Not women they, but Gorgons[479] I must call them;\n Nor yet can I to Gorgon forms compare them:\n I have seen painted shapes that bear away 50\n The feast of Phineus.[480] Wingless, though, are these,\n And swarth, and every way abominable.\n *They snort with breath that none may dare approach,\n And from their eyes a loathsome humour pours,\n And such their garb as neither to the shrine\n Of Gods is meet to bring, nor mortal roof.\n Ne'er have I seen a race that owns this tribe,\n Nor is there land can boast it rears such brood,\n Unhurt and free from sorrow for its pains.\n Henceforth be it the lot of Loxias, 60\n Our mighty lord, himself to deal with them:\n True prophet-healer he, and portent-seer,\n And for all others cleanser of their homes.\n\n _Enter_ APOLLO _from the inner adytum, attended\n by_ HERMES\n\n _Apol._ [_To_ ORESTES.] Nay, I'll not fail thee, but as close at hand\n Will guard thee to the end, or though far off,\n Will not prove yielding to thine adversaries;\n And now thou see'st these fierce ones captive ta'en,\n These loathly maidens fallen fast in sleep.\n Hoary and ancient virgins they, with whom\n Nor God, nor man, nor beast, holds intercourse. 70\n They owe their birth to evils; for they dwell\n In evil darkness, yea in Tartaros\n Beneath the earth, and are the hate and dread\n Of all mankind, and of Olympian Gods.\n Yet fly thou, fly, and be not faint of heart;\n For they will chase thee over mainland wide,\n As thou dost tread the soil by wanderers tracked,\n And o'er the ocean, and by sea-girt towns;\n And fail thou not before the time, as brooding\n O'er this great toil. But go to Pallas' city,\n And sit, and clasp her ancient image[481] there; 80\n And there with judges of these things, and words\n Strong to appease, will we a means devise\n To free thee from these ills for evermore;\n For I urged thee to take thy mother's life.\n\n _Orest._ Thou know'st, O king Apollo, not to wrong;\n And since thou know'st, learn also not to slight:\n Thy strength gives full security for act.\n\n _Apol._ Remember, let no fear o'ercome thy soul;\n And [_To_ HERMES] thou, my brother, of one father born,\n My Hermes, guard him; true to that thy name,\n Be thou his Guide, true shepherd of this man,\n Who comes to me as suppliant: Zeus himself 90\n *Reveres this reverence e'en to outcasts due,\n When it to mortals comes with guidance good.[482]\n\n [_Exit_ ORESTES _led by_ HERMES. APOLLO _retires\n within the adytum. The Ghost of_ CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA\n _rises from the ground_\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ What ho! Sleep on! What need of sleepers now?\n And I am put by you to foul disgrace\n Among the other dead, nor fails reproach\n Among the shades that I a murderess am;\n And so in shame I wander, and I tell you\n That at their hands I bear worst form of blame.\n And much as I have borne from nearest kin, 100\n Yet not one God is stirred to wrath for me,\n Though done to death by matricidal hands.\n See ye these heart-wounds, whence and how they came?\n Yea, when it sleeps, the mind is bright with eyes;[483]\n But in the day it is man's lot to lack\n All true discernment. Many a gift of mine\n Have ye lapped up, libations pure from wine,[484]\n And soothing rites that shut out drunken mirth;\n And I dread banquets of the night would offer\n On altar-hearth, at hour no God might share.\n And lo! all this is trampled under foot. 110\n He is escaped, and flees, like fawn, away;\n And even from the midst of all your toils\n Has nimbly slipped, and draws wide mouth at you.\n Hear ye; for I have spoken for my life:\n Give heed, ye dark, earth-dwelling Goddesses,\n I, Clyt\u00e6mnestra's phantom, call on you.\n\n [_The Erinnyes moan in their sleep_\n\n Moan on, the man is gone, and flees far off:\n My kindred find protectors; I find none.\n\n [_Moan as before_\n\n Too sleep-oppressed art thou, nor pitiest me:\n Orestes, murderer of his mother, 'scapes. 120\n\n [_Noises repeated_\n\n Dost snort? Dost drowse? Wilt thou not rise and speed?\n What have ye ever done but work out ill?\n\n [_Noises as before_\n\n Yea, sleep and toil, supreme conspirators,\n Have withered up the dreaded dragon's strength.\n\n _Chor._ [_starting up suddenly with a yell._] Seize him, seize, seize,\n yea, seize: look well to it.\n\n _Clyt\u00e6m._ Thou, phantom-like,[485] dost hunt thy prey, and criest,\n Like hound that never rests from care of toil.\n What dost thou? (_to one Erinnys._) Rise and let not toil o'ercome\n thee,\n Nor, lulled to sleep, lose all thy sense of loss.\n Let thy soul (_to another_) feel the pain of just reproach: 130\n The wise of heart find that their goad and spur.\n And thou (_to a third_), breathe on him with thy blood-flecked breath,\n And with thy vapour, thy maw's fire, consume him;\n Chase him, and wither with a fresh pursuit.\n\n _Leader of the Chor._ Wake, wake, I say; wake her, as I wake thee.\n Dost slumber? Rise, I say, and shake off sleep.\n Let's see if this our prelude be in vain.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Pah! pah! Oh me! we suffered, O my friends....\n Yea, many mine own sufferings undeserved....\n We suffered a great sorrow, full of woe, 140\n An evil hard to bear.\n Out of the nets he's slipped, our prey is gone:\n O'ercome by sleep I have my quarry lost.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n Ah, son of Zeus, a very robber thou,\n Though young, thou didst old Goddesses ride down,[486]\n Honouring thy suppliant, godless though he be,\n One whom his parents loathe:\n Thou, though a God, a matricide hast freed:\n Of which of these acts can one speak as just?\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Yea, this reproach that came to me in dreams 150\n Smote me, as charioteer\n Smites with a goad he in the middle grasps,\n Beneath my breast, my heart;\n 'Tis ours to feel the keen, the o'er keen smart,\n As by the public scourger fiercely lashed.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n Such are the doings of these younger Gods,\n Beyond all bounds of right\n Stretching their power.... A clot of blood besmeared\n Upon the base, the head,...\n Earth's central shrine itself we now may see 160\n Take to itself pollution terrible.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And thou, a seer, with guilt that stains thy hearth\n Hast fouled thy shrine, self-prompted, self-impelled,\n Against God's laws a mortal honouring,\n And bringing low the Fates\n Born in the hoary past.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n Me he may vex, but shall not rescue him;\n Though 'neath the earth he flee, he is not freed\n For he, blood-stained, shall find upon his head\n Another after me,\n Destroyer foul and dread.\n\n [APOLLO _advances from the adytum and confronts\n them_\n\n _Apol._ Out, out, I bid you, quickly from this temple;\n Go forth, and leave this shrine oracular, 170\n Lest, smitten with a serpent winged and bright,\n Forth darted from my bow-string golden-wrought,\n Thou in sore pain bring up dark foam, and vomit\n The clots of blood thou suck'dst from human veins.\n This is no house where ye may meetly come,\n But there where heads upon the scaffold lie,[487]\n And eyes are gouged, and throats of men are cut,\n *And mutilation mars the bloom of youth,\n Where men are maimed and stoned to death, and groan\n With bitter wailing, 'neath the spine impaled; 180\n Hear ye what feast ye love, and so become\n Loathed of the Gods? Yes, all your figure's fashion\n Points clearly to it. Such as ye should dwell\n In cave of lion battening upon blood,\n Nor tarry in these sacred precincts here,\n Working defilement. Go, and roam afield\n Without a shepherd, for to flock like this\n Not one of all the Gods is friendly found.\n\n _Chor._ O king Apollo, hear us in our turn:\n No mere accomplice art thou of these things, 190\n But guilty art in full as principal.\n\n _Apol._ How then? Prolong thy speech to tell me this.\n\n _Chor._ Thou bad'st this stranger be a matricide.\n\n _Apol._ I bade him to avenge his sire. Why not?\n\n _Chor._ Then thou did'st welcome here the blood just shed.\n\n _Apol._ I bade him seek this shrine as suppliant.\n\n _Chor._ Yet us who were his escort thou revilest.\n\n _Apol._ It is not meet that ye come nigh this house.\n\n _Chor._ Yet is this self-same task appointed us.\n\n _Apol._ What function's this? Boast thou of nobler task? 200\n\n _Chor._ We drive from home the murderers of their mothers.\n\n _Apol._ What? Those who kill a wife that slays her spouse?\n\n _Chor._ That deed brings not the guilt of blood of kin.[488]\n\n _Apol._ *Truly thou mak'st dishonoured, and as nought,\n The marriage-vows of Zeus and Hera great;\n And by this reasoning Kypris too is shamed,\n From whom men gain the ties of closest love.\n For still to man and woman marriage bed,\n Assigned by Fate and guided by the Right,\n Is more than any oath. If thou then deal\n So gently, when the one the other slays, 210\n And dost not even look on them with wrath,\n I say thou dost not justly chase Orestes;\n For thou, in the one case, I know, dost rage;\n I' the other, clearly tak'st it easily:\n The Goddess Pallas shall our quarrel judge.\n\n _Chor._ That man I ne'er will leave for evermore.\n\n _Apol._ Chase him then, chase, and gain yet more of toil.\n\n _Chor._ Curtail thou not my functions by thy speech.\n\n _Apol._ Ne'er by my choice would I thy functions own.\n\n _Chor._ True; great thy name among the thrones of Zeus: 220\n But I, his mother's blood constraining me,\n Will this man chase, and track him like a hound.\n\n _Apol._ And I will help him and my suppliant free;\n For dreadful among Gods and mortals too\n The suppliant's curse, should I abandon him.\n\n [_Exeunt_\n\n_Scene changes to_ Athens, _in front of the Temple of Athena Polias, on\nthe Acropolis_[489]\n\n _Enter_ ORESTES\n\n _Orest._ [_clasping the statue of the Goddess._] O Queen Athena, I at\n Loxias' hest\n Am come: do thou receive me graciously,\n Sin-stained though I have been: no guilt of blood\n Is on my soul, nor is my hand unclean,\n But now with stain toned down and worn away,\n In other homes and journeyings among men,[490] 230\n O'er land and water travelling alike,\n Keeping great Loxias' charge oracular,\n I come, O Goddess, to thy shrine and statue:\n Here will I stay and wait the trial's issue.\n\n _Enter the Erinnyes in pursuit_\n\n _Chor._ Lo! here are clearest traces of the man:\n Follow thou up that dumb informer's[491] hints;\n For as the hound pursues a wounded fawn,\n So by red blood and oozing gore track we.\n My lungs are panting with full many a toil,\n Wearing man's strength down. Every spot of earth 240\n Have I now searched, and o'er the sea in flight\n Wingless I came pursuing, swift as ship;\n And now full sure he's crouching somewhere here:\n The smell of human blood wafts joy to me.\n See, see again, look round ye every way,\n Lest he, the murderer, slip away unscathed.\n He, it is true, in full security,\n Clasping the statue of the deathless goddess,\n Would fain now take his trial at our hands. 250\n This may not be; a mother's blood out-poured\n (Pah! pah!) can never be raised up again,\n The life-blood shed is pour\u00e8d out and gone,\n But thou must give to us to suck the blood\n Red from thy living members; yea, from thee,\n May I gain meal of drink undrinkable!\n And, having dried thee up, I'll drag thee down\n Alive to bear the doom of matricide.\n There thou shalt see if any other man\n Has sinned in not revering God or guest,\n Or parents dear, that each receiveth there 260\n The recompense of sin that Vengeance claims.\n For Hades is a mighty arbiter\n Of those that dwell below, and with a mind\n That writes true record all man's deeds surveys.\n\n _Orest._ I, taught by troubles, know full many a form\n Of cleansing rites,\u2014to speak, when that is meet,\n And when 'tis not, keep silence, and in this\n I by wise teacher was enjoined to speak;\n For the blood fails and fades from off my hands;\n The guilt of matricide is washed away. 270\n For when 'twas fresh, it then was all dispelled,\n At Ph\u0153bos' shrine, by spells of slaughtered swine.\n Long would the story be, if told complete,\n Of all I joined in harmless fellowship.\n Time waxing old, too, cleanses all alike:\n And now with pure lips, I in words devout,\n Call Athen\u00e6a, whom this land owns queen,\n To come and help me: So without a war\n Shall she gain me, my land, my Argive people, 280\n Full faithful friends, allies for evermore;[492]\n But whether in the climes of Libyan land,\n Hard by her birth-stream's foam, Tritonian named,[493]\n She stands upright, or sits with feet enwrapt,\n Helping her friends, or o'er Phlegr\u00e6an plains,\n Like a bold chieftain, she keeps watchful guard,[494]\n Oh, may she come! (far off a God can hear,)\n And work for me redemption from these ills!\n\n _Chor._ Nay, nor Apollo, nor Athena's might\n Can save thee from the doom of perishing, 290\n Outcast, not knowing where to look for joy,\n The bloodless food of demons, a mere shade.\n Wilt thou not answer? Scornest thou my words,\n A victim reared and consecrate to me?\n Alive thou'lt feed me, not at altar slain;\n And thou shalt hear our hymn as spell to bind thee.\n\n_The Erinnyes, as they sing the ode that follows, move round and round\nin solemn and weird measure_\n\n Come, then, let us form our chorus;\n Since 'tis now our will to utter\n Melody or song most hateful,\n Telling how our band assigneth\n All the lots that fall to mortals; 300\n And we boast that we are righteous:\n Not on one who pure hands lifteth\n Falleth from us any anger,\n But his life he passeth scatheless;\n But to him who sins like this man,\n And his blood-stained hands concealeth,\n Witnesses of those who perish,\n Coming to exact blood-forfeit,\n We appear to work completeness. 310\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n O mother who did'st bear me, mother Night,\n A terror of the living and the dead,\n Hear me, oh hear!\n The son of Leto puts me to disgrace\n And robs me of my spoil,\n This crouching victim for a mother's blood:\n And over him as slain,\n We raise this chant of madness, frenzy-working,[495]\n The hymn the Erinnyes love,\n A spell upon the soul, a lyreless strain\n That withers up men's strength.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n This lot the all-pervading Destiny 320\n Hath spun to hold its ground for evermore,\n That we should still attend\n On him on whom there rests the guilt of blood\n Of kin shed causelessly,\n Till earth lie o'er him; nor shall death set free.\n And over him as slain,\n We raise this chant of madness, frenzy-working,\n The hymn the Erinnyes love,\n A spell upon the soul, a lyreless strain\n That withers up men's strength.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Such lot was then assigned us at our birth:\n From us the Undying Ones must hold aloof: 330\n Nor is there one who shares\n The banquet-meal with us;\n In garments white I have nor part nor lot;[496]\n My choice was made for overthrow of homes,\n Where home-bred slaughter works a loved one's death:\n Ha! hunting after him,\n Strong though he be, 'tis ours\n *To wear the newness of his young blood down.[497]\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n *Since 'tis our work another's task to take,[498] 340\n *The Gods indeed may bar the force of prayers\n Men offer unto me,\n But may not clash in strife;\n For Zeus doth cast us from his fellowship,\n \u201cBlood-dropping, worthy of his utmost hate.\u201d...\n For leaping down as from the topmost height,\n I on my victim bring\n The crushing force of feet,\n Limbs that o'erthrow e'en those that swiftly run,\n An At\u00e8 hard to bear. 350\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And fame of men, though very lofty now\n Beneath the clear, bright sky,\n Below the earth grows dim and fades away\n Before the attack of us, the black-robed ones,\n And these our dancings wild,\n Which all men loathe and hate.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n Falling in frenzied guilt, he knows it not;\n So thick the blinding cloud\n *That o'er him floats; and Rumour widely spread\n With many a sigh reports the dreary doom,\n A mist that o'er the house\n In gathering darkness broods.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n Fixed is the law, no lack of means find we; 360\n We work out all our will,\n We, the dread Powers, the registrars of crime,\n Whom mortals fail to soothe,\n Fulfilling tasks dishonoured, unrevered,\n Apart from all the Gods,\n *In foul and sunless gloom,[499]\n Driving o'er rough steep road both those that see,\n And those whose eyes are dark.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n What mortal man then doth not bow in awe\n And fear before all this,\n Hearing from me the destined ordinance\n Assigned me by the Gods? 370\n This task of mine is one of ancient days;\n Nor meet I here with scorn,\n Though 'neath the earth I dwell,\n And live there in the darkness thick and dense,\n Where never sunbeam falls.\n\n _Enter_ ATHENA, _appearing in her chariot, and then alights_\n\n _Athena._ I heard far off the cry of thine entreaty\n E'en from Scamandros,[500] claiming there mine own,\n The land which all Achaia's foremost leaders,\n As portion chief from out the spoils of war,\n Gave to me, trees and all, for evermore,\n A special gift for Theseus' progeny. 380\n Thence came I plying foot that never tires,\n Flapping my \u00e6gis-folds, no need of wings,\n My chariot drawn by young and vigorous steeds:\n And seeing this new presence in the land,\n I have no fear, though wonder fills mine eyes;\n Who, pray, are ye? To all of you I speak,\n And to this stranger at my statue suppliant.\n And as for you, like none of Nature's births,\n Nor seen by Gods among the Goddess-forms,\n Nor yet in likeness of a mortal shape.... 390\n But to speak ill of neighbours blameless found\n Is far from just, and Right holds back from it.\n\n _Chor._ Daughter of Zeus, thou shalt learn all in brief;\n Children are we of everlasting Night;\n [At home, beneath the earth, they call us Curses.]\n\n _Athena._ Your race I know, and whence ye take your name.\n\n _Chor._ Thou shalt soon know then what mine office is.\n\n _Athena._ Then could I know, if ye clear speech would speak.\n\n _Chor._ We from their home drive forth all murderers.\n\n _Athena._ Where doth the slayer find the goal of flight? 400\n\n _Chor._ Where to find joy in nought is still his wont.\n\n _Athena._ And whirrest thou such flight on this man here?\n\n _Chor._ Yea, for he thought it meet to slay his mother.\n\n _Athena._ Was there no other power whose wrath he feared?\n\n _Chor._ What impulse, then, should prick to matricide?\n\n _Athena._ Two sides are here, and I but half have heard.\n\n _Chor._ But he nor takes nor tenders us an oath.[501]\n\n _Athena._ Thou lov'st the show of Justice more than act.\n\n _Chor._ How so? Inform me. Skill thou dost not lack!\n\n _Athena._ 'Tis not by oaths a cause unjust shall win.[502] 410\n\n _Chor._ Search out the cause, then, and right judgment judge.\n\n _Athena._ And would ye trust to me to end the cause?[503]\n\n _Chor._ How else? Thy worth, and worthy stock we honour.\n\n _Athena._ What dost thou wish, O stranger, to reply?\n Tell thou thy land, thy race, thy life's strange chance,\n And then ward off this censure aimed at thee,\n Since thou sitt'st trusting in thy right, and hold'st\n This mine own image, near mine altar hearth,\n A suppliant, like Ixion,[504] honourable.\n Answer all this in speech intelligible. 420\n\n _Orest._ O Queen Athena, from thy last words starting,\n I first will free thee from a weighty care:\n I am not now defiled: no curse abides\n Upon the hand that on thy statue rests;\n And I will give thee proof full strong of this.\n The law is fixed the murderer shall be dumb,\n Till at the hand of one who frees from blood,\n The purple stream from yeanling swine run o'er him;[505]\n Long since at other houses these dread rites[506]\n We have gone through, slain victims, flowing streams:\n This care, then, I can speak of now as gone. 430\n And how my lineage stands thou soon shalt know:\n An Argive I, my sire well known to thee,\n Chief ruler of the seamen, Agamemnon,\n With whom thou madest Tro\u00efa, Ilion's city,\n To be no city. He, when he came home,\n Died without honour; and my dark-souled mother\n Enwrapt and slew him with her broidered toils,\n Which bore their witness of the murder wrought\n There in the bath; and I, on my return, 440\n (Till then an exile,) did my mother kill,\n (That deed I'll not deny,) in forfeit due\n Of blood for blood of father best beloved;\n And Loxias, too, is found accomplice here,\n Foretelling woes that pricked my heart to act,\n If I did nought to those accomplices\n In that same crime. But thou, judge thou my cause,\n If what I did were right or wrong, and I,\n Whate'er the issue, will be well content.\n\n _Athena._ Too great this matter, if a mortal man\n Think to decide it. Nor is't meet for me\n To judge a cause of murder stirred by wrath; 450\n *And all the more since thou with contrite soul\n Hast come to this my house a suppliant,\n Harmless and pure. I now, in spite of all,\n Take thee as one my city need not blame;[507]\n But these hold office that forbids dismissal,\n And should they fail of victory in this cause,\n Hereafter from their passionate mood will poison[508]\n Fall on the land, disease intolerable,\n And lasting for all time. E'en thus it stands;\n And both alike, their staying or dismissal,\n Are unto me perplexing and disastrous.\n But since the matter thus hath come on me,\n I will appoint as judges of this murder\n Men bound by oath, a law for evermore;[509]\n And ye, call ye your proofs and witnesses,\n Sworn pledges given to help the cause of right.\n And I, selecting of my citizens\n Those who are best, will come again that they\n May judge this matter truly, taking oaths\n To utter nought against the law of right. [_Exit_\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Now will there be an outbreak of new laws:\n If victory shall rest\n Upon the wrong right of this matricide, 470\n This deed will prompt forthwith\n All mortal men to callous recklessness.\n And many deaths, I trow,\n At children's hands their parents now await\n Through all the time to come.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n For since no wrath on evil deeds will creep\n Henceforth from those who watch\n With wild, fierce souls the evil deeds of men,\n I will let loose all crime;\n *And each from each shall seek in eager quest, 480\n *Speaking of neighbour's ills,\n *For pause and lull of woes;[510] yet wretched man,\n He speaks of cures that fail.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Henceforth let none call us,\n When smitten by mischance,\n Uttering this cry of prayer,\n \u201cO Justice, and O ye, Erinnyes' thrones!\u201d\n Such wail, perchance, a father then shall utter,\n Or mother newly slain,\n Since, fallen low, the shrine of Justice now\n Lies prostrate in the dust. 490\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n There are with whom 'tis well\n That awe should still abide,\n As watchman o'er their souls.\n Calm wisdom gained by sorrow profits much:\n For who that in the gladness of his heart,\n Or man or commonwealth,\n Has nought of this, would bow before the Right\n Humbly as heretofore?[511]\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n Praise not the lawless life, 500\n Nor that which owns a despot's sovereignty;\n To the true mean in all God gives success,[512]\n And with far other mood,\n On other course looks on;\n And I will say, with this in harmony,\n That Pride is truly child of Godlessness;\n While from the soul's true health\n Comes the fair fortune, loved of all mankind,\n And aim of many a prayer.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And now, I say, in sum, 510\n Revere the altar reared to Justice high,\n Nor, thine eye set on gain, with godless foot\n Treat it contemptuously:\n For wrath shall surely come;\n The appointed end abideth still for all.\n Therefore let each be found full honour giving\n To parents, and to those,\n The honoured guests that gather in his house,\n Let him due reverence show.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n And one who of his own free will is just, 520\n Not by enforced constraint,\n He shall not be unblest,\n Nor can he e'er be utterly o'erthrown;\n But he that dareth, and transgresseth all,\n In wild, confus\u00e8d deeds,\n Where Justice is not seen,\n I say that he perforce, as time wears on,\n Will have to take in sail,\n When trouble makes him hers, and each yard-arm\n Is shivered by the blast.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n And then he calls on those who hear him not,\n And struggles all in vain,\n In the fierce waves' mid-whirl;\n And God still mocks the man of fevered mood, 530\n When he sees him who bragged it ne'er would come,\n With woes inextricable\n Worn out, and failing still\n To weather round the perilous promontory;\n And for all time to come,\n Wrecking on reefs of Vengeance bliss once high,\n He dies unwept, unseen.\n\n_The scene changes to the Areopagos._ _Enter_ ATHENA, _followed by\nHerald and twelve Athenian citizens_\n\n _Athena._ Cry out, O herald; the great host hold back;\n Then let Tyrrhenian trumpet,[513] piercing heaven,\n Filled with man's breath, to all that host send forth\n The full-toned notes, for while this council-hall 540\n Is filling, it is meet men hold their peace.\n\n [_Herald blows his trumpet_\n\n And let the city for all time to come\n Learn these my laws, and this accused one too,\n That so the trial may be rightly judged.[514]\n\n [_As_ ATHENA _speaks_, APOLLO _enters_\n\n _Chor._ O King Apollo, rule thou o'er thine own;\n But what hast thou to do with this our cause?\n\n _Apol._ I am come both as witness,\u2014for this man\n Is here as suppliant, that on my hearth sat,\n And I his cleanser am from guilt of blood,\u2014\n And to plead for him as his advocate:\n I bear the blame of that his mother's death.\n But thou, whoe'er dost act as president,\n Open the suit in way well known to thee.[515] 550\n\n _Athena._ [_to the Erinnyes._] 'Tis yours to speak; I thus the\n pleadings open,\n For so the accuser, speaking first, shall have,\n Of right, the task to state the case to us.\n\n _Chor._ Many are we, but briefly will we speak;\n And answer thou [_to_ ORESTES], in thy turn, word for word;\n First tell us this, did'st thou thy mother slay?\n\n _Orest._ I slew her: of that fact is no denial.\n\n _Chor._ Here, then, is one of our three bouts[516] decided.\n\n _Orest._ Thou boastest this o'er one not yet thrown down. 560\n\n _Chor._ This thou at least must tell, how thou did'st slay her.\n\n _Orest._ E'en so; her throat I cut with hand sword-armed.\n\n _Chor._ By whom persuaded, and with whose advice?\n\n _Orest._ [_Pointing to_ APOLLO.] By His divine command: He bears me\n witness.\n\n _Chor._ The prophet-God prompt thee to matricide!\n\n _Orest._ Yea, and till now I do not blame my lot.\n\n _Chor._ Nay, when found guilty, soon thou'lt change thy tone.\n\n _Orest._ I trust my sire will send help from the tomb.\n\n _Chor._ Trust in the dead, thou murderer of thy mother!\n\n _Orest._ Yes; for in her two great pollutions met. 570\n\n _Chor._ How so, I pray? Inform the court of this.\n\n _Orest._ She both her husband and my father slew.\n\n _Chor._ Nay then, thou liv'st, and she gets quit by death.\n\n _Orest._ Why, while she lived, did'st thou to chase her fail?\n\n _Chor._ The man she slew was not one of blood with her.[517]\n\n _Orest._ And does my mother's blood then flow in me?\n\n _Chor._ E'en so; how else, O murderer, reared she thee\n Within her womb? Disown'st thou mother's blood?\n\n _Orest._ [_Turning to_ APOLLO.] Now bear thou witness, and declare to\n me,\n Apollo, if I slew her righteously; 580\n For I the deed, as fact, will not deny.\n But whether right or wrong this deed of blood\n Seem in thine eyes, judge thou that these may hear.\n\n _Apol._ I will to you, Athena's solemn council,\n Speak truly, and as prophet will not lie.\n Ne'er have I spoken on prophetic throne,\n Of man, or woman, or of commonwealth,\n But as great Zeus, Olympian Father, bade;\n And that ye learn how much this plea avails,\n I bid you [_turning to the court of jurymen_] follow out my Father's\n will;590\n No oath can be of greater might than Zeus.[518]\n\n _Chor._ Zeus, then, thou say'st, did prompt the oracle\n That this Orestes here, his father's blood\n Avenging, should his mother's rights o'erthrow?\n\n _Apol._ 'Tis a quite other thing for hero-chief,\n Bearing the honour of Zeus-given sceptre,\n To die, and at a woman's hands, not e'en\n By swift, strong dart, from Amazonian bow,[519]\n But as thou, Pallas, now shalt hear, and those\n Who sit to give their judgment in this cause; 600\n For when he came successful from the trade\n Of war with largest gains, receiving him\n With kindly words of praise, she spread a robe\n Over the bath, yes, even o'er its edge,\n As he was bathing, and entangling him\n In endless folds of cloak of cunning work,\n She strikes her lord down. Thus the tale is told\n Of her lord's murder, chief whom all did honour,\n The ships' great captain. So I tell it out,\n E'en as it was, to thrill the people's hearts,\n Who now are set to give their verdict here.\n\n _Chor._ Zeus then a father's death, as thou dost say, 610\n Of highest moment holds, yet He himself\n Bound fast in chains his aged father, Cronos;[520]\n Are not thy words at variance with the facts?\n I call on you [_to the Court_] to witness what he says.\n\n _Apol._ O hateful creatures, loath\u00e8d of the Gods,\n Those chains may be undone, that wrong be cured,\n And many a means of rescue may be found:\n But when the dust has drunk the blood of men,\n No resurrection comes for one that's dead:\n No charm for these things hath my sire devised;\n But all things else he turneth up or down, 620\n And orders without toil or weariness.[521]\n\n _Chor._ Take heed how thou help this man to escape;\n Shall he who stained earth with his mother's blood\n Then dwell in Argos in his father's house?\n What public altars can he visit now?\n What lustral rite of clan or tribe admit him?[522]\n\n _Apol._ This too I'll say; judge thou if I speak right:\n The mother is not parent of the child\n That is called hers, but nurse of embryo sown.\n He that begets is parent:[523] she, as stranger, 630\n For stranger rears the scion, if God mar not;\n And of this fact I'll give thee proof full sure.\n A father there may be without a mother:\n Here nigh at hand, as witness, is the child\n Of high Olympian Zeus, for she not e'en\n Was nurtured in the darkness of the womb,[524]\n Yet such a scion may no God beget.\n I, both in all else, Pallas, as I know,\n Will make thy city and thy people great,\n And now this man have sent as suppliant\n Upon thy hearth, that he may faithful prove 640\n Now and for ever, and that thou, O Goddess,\n May'st gain him as ally, and all his race,\n And that it last as law for evermore,\n That these men's progeny our treaties own.\n\n _Athena._ [_To jurors._] I bid you give, according to your conscience,\n A verdict just; enough has now been said.\n\n _Chor._ We have shot forth our every weapon now:\n I wait to hear what way the strife is judged.\n\n _Athena._ [_To Chorus._] How shall I order this, unblamed by you?\n\n _Chor._ [_To jurors._] Ye heard what things ye heard, and in your\n hearts\n Reverence your oaths, and give your votes, O friends. 650\n\n _Athena._ Hear ye my order, O ye Attic people,\n In act to judge your first great murder-cause.\n And henceforth shall the host of \u00c6geus' race[525]\n For ever own this council-hall of judges:\n And for this Ares' hill, the Amazons' seat\n And camp when they, enraged with Theseus, came[526]\n In hostile march, and built as counterwork\n This citadel high-reared, a city new,\n And sacrificed to Ares, whence 'tis named\n As Ares' hill and fortress: in this, I say, 660\n The reverent awe its citizens shall own,\n And fear, awe's kindred, shall restrain from wrong\n By day, nor less by night, so long as they,\n The burghers, alter not themselves their laws:\n But if with drain of filth and tainted soil\n Clear river thou pollute, no drink thou'lt find.[527]\n I give my counsel to you, citizens,\n To reverence and guard well that form of state\n Which is not lawless, nor tyrannical,\n And not to cast all fear from out the city;[528]\n For what man lives devoid of fear and just?\n But rightly shrinking, owning awe like this, 670\n Ye then would have a bulwark of your land,\n A safeguard for your city, such as none\n Boast or in Skythia's[529] or in Pelops' clime.\n This council I establish pure from bribe,\n Reverend, and keen to act, for those that sleep[530]\n An ever-watchful sentry of the land.\n This charge of mine I thus have lengthened out\n For you, my people, for all time to come.\n And now 'tis meet ye rise, and take your ballots,[531]\n And so decide the cause, maintaining still\n Your reverence for your oath. My speech is said. 680\n\n _Chor._ And I advise you not to treat with scorn\n A troop that can sit heavy on your land.\n\n _Apol._ And I do bid you dread my oracles,\n And those of Zeus, nor rob them of their fruit.\n\n _Chor._ Uncalled thou com'st to take a murderer's part;\n No longer pure the oracles thou'lt speak.\n\n _Apol._ And did my father then in purpose err,\n Then the first murderer he received, Ixion?[532]\n\n _Chor._ Thou talk'st, but should I fail in this my cause,\n I will again dwell here and vex this land.\n\n _Apol._ Alike among the new Gods and the old 690\n Art thou dishonoured: I shall win the day.\n\n _Chor._ This did'st thou also in the house of Pheres,[533]\n Winning the Fates to make a man immortal.\n\n _Apol._ Was it not just a worshipper to bless\n In any case,\u2014then most, when he's in want?\n\n _Chor._ Thou did'st o'erthrow, yea, thou, laws hoar with age,\n And drug with wine the ancient Goddesses.[534]\n\n _Apol._ Nay, thou, non-suited in this cause of thine,\n Shall venom spit that nothing hurts thy foes. 700\n\n _Chor._ Since thou, though young, dost ride me down, though old,\n I wait to hear the issue of the cause,\n Still wavering in my wrath against this city.\n\n _Athena._ 'Tis now my task to close proceedings here;\n And this my vote I to Orestes add;\n For I no mother own that brought me forth,\n And saving that I wed not, I prefer\n The male with all my heart, and make mine own\n The father's cause, nor will above it place\n A woman's death, who slew her own true lord,\n The guardian of her house. Orestes wins, 710\n E'en though the votes be equal. Cast ye forth\n With all your speed the lots from out the urns,\n Ye jurors unto whom that office falls.\n\n _Orest._ Ph\u0153bos Apollo! what will be the judgment?\n\n _Chor._ Dark Night, my mother! dost thou look on this?\n\n _Orest._ My goal is now the noose, or full, clear day.\n\n _Chor._ Ours too to come to nought, or work on still.\n\n [_A pause. The jurors take out the voting tablets\n from the two urns (one of bronze, the other of\n wood) for acquittal or condemnation_\n\n _Apol._ Now count ye up the votes thrown out, O friends,\n And be ye honest, as ye reckon them;\n One sentence lacking, sorrow great may come, 720\n And one vote given hath ofttimes saved a house.\n\n [_A pause, during which the urns are emptied and\n the votes are counted_\n\n _Athena._ The accused is found \u201cnot guilty\u201d of the murder:\n For lo! the numbers of the votes are equal.[535]\n\n _Orest._ O Pallas, thou who hast redeemed my house,\n Thou, thou hast brought me back when I had been\n Bereaved of fatherland, and Hellenes now\n Will say, \u201cThe man's an Argive once again,\n And dwells upon his father's heritage,\n Because of Pallas and of Loxias,\n And Zeus, the true third Saviour, all o'erruling,\n Who, touched with pity for my father's fate, 730\n Saves me, beholding these my mother's pleaders.\u201d\n And I will now wend homeward, giving pledge\n To this thy country and its valiant host,\n To stand as firm for henceforth and for ever,\n That no man henceforth, chief of Argive land,\n Shall bring against it spearmen well equipped:\n For we ourselves, though in our sepulchres,\n On those who shall transgress these oaths of ours,\n Will with inextricable evils work,\n Making their paths disheartening, and their ways 740\n Ill-omened, that they may their toil repent.\n But if these oaths be kept, to those who honour\n This city of great Pallas, our ally,\n Then we to them are more propitious yet.\n Farewell then, Thou, and these who guard thy city.\n Mayst thou so wrestle that thy foes escape not,\n And so win victory and deliverance!\n\n\n STROPHE\n\n _Chor._ Ah! ah! ye younger God!\n Ye have ridden down the laws of ancient days,\n And robbed me of my prey.\n But I, dishonoured, wretched, full of wrath, 750\n Upon this land, ha! ha!\n Will venom, venom from my heart let fall,\n In vengeance for my grief,\n A dropping which shall smite\n The earth with barrenness!\n And thence shall come, (O Vengeance!) on the plain\n Down swooping, blight of leaves and murrain dire\n That o'er the land flings taint of pestilence. 760\n Shall I then wail and groan?\n Or what else shall I do?\n Shall I become a woe intolerable\n Unto these men for wrongs I have endured?\n Great, very great are they,\n Ye virgin daughters of dim Night, ill-doomed,\n Born both to shame and woe!\n\n _Athena._ Nay, list to me, and be not over-grieved;\n Ye have not been defeated, but the cause\n Came fairly to a tie, no shame to thee.\n But the clear evidence of Zeus was given,\n And he who spake it bare his witness too\n That, doing this, Orestes should not suffer.\n Hurl ye not then fierce rage on this my land;\n Nor be ye wroth, nor work ye barrenness,\n *By letting fall the drops of evil Powers,[536]\n The baleful influence that consumes all seed. 770\n For lo! I promise, promise faithfully,\n That, seated on your hearths with shining thrones,\n Ye shall find cavern homes in righteous land,\n Honoured and worshipped by these citizens.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE\n\n _Chor._ Ah ah! ye younger Gods!\n Ye have ridden down the laws of ancient days,\n And robbed me of my prey.\n And I, dishonoured, wretched, full of wrath,\n Upon this land, ha! ha!\n Will venom, venom from my heart let fall,\n In vengeance for my grief,\n A dropping which shall smite 780\n The earth with barrenness!\n And thence shall come, (O Vengeance!) on the plain\n Down-swooping, blight of leaves and murrain dire\n That o'er the land flings taint of pestilence.\n Shall I then wail and groan?\n Or what else shall I do?\n Shall I become a woe intolerable\n Unto these men for wrongs I have endured?\n Great, very great are they,\n Ye virgin daughters of dim Night, ill-doomed,\n Born both to shame and woe!\n\n _Athena._ Ye are not left unhonoured; be not hot\n In wrath, ye Goddesses, to mar man's land,\n I too, yes I, trust Zeus. Need I say more? 790\n I only of the high Gods know the keys\n Of chambers where the sealed-up thunder lies;\n But that I have no need of. List to me,\n Nor cast upon the earth thy rash tongue's fruit,\n That brings to all things failure and distress;\n Lull thou the bitter storm of that dark surge,\n As dwelling with me, honoured and revered;\n And thou with first-fruits of this wide champaign,\n Offerings for children's birth and wedlock-rites,\n Shall praise these words of mine for evermore. 800\n\n _Chor._ That I should suffer this, fie on it! fie!\n That I, with thoughts of hoar antiquity,[537]\n Should now in this land dwell,\n Dishonoured, deemed a plague!\n I breathe out rage, and every form of wrath.\n Oh, Earth! fie on it! fie!\n What pang is this that thrills through all my breast?\n Hear thou, O mother Night,\n Hear thou my vehement wrath!\n For lo! deceits that none can wrestle with\n Have thrust me out from honours old of Gods,\n And made a thing of nought.\n\n _Athena._ Thy wrath I'll bear, for thou the elder art, 810\n [And wiser too in that respect than I;]\n Yet to me too Zeus gave no wisdom poor;\n And ye, if ye an alien country seek,\n Shall yearn in love for this land. This I tell you;\n For to this people Time, as it runs on,\n Shall come with fuller honours, and if thou\n Hast honoured seat hard by Erechtheus' home,\n Thou shalt from men and women reap such gifts\n As thou would'st never gain from other mortals;\n But in these fields of mine be slow to cast 820\n Whetstones of murder's knife, to young hearts bale,\n Frenzied with maddened passion, not of wine;\n Nor, as transplanting hearts of fighting-cocks,[538]\n Make Ares inmate with my citizens,\n In evil discord, and intestine broils;\n Let them have war without, not scantily,\n For him who feels the passionate thirst of fame:\n Battle of home-bred birds ... I name it not;\n This it is thine to choose as gift from me;\n Well-doing, well-entreated, and well-honoured, 830\n To share the land best loved of all the Gods.\n\n _Chor._ That I should suffer this, fie on it! fie!\n That I, with thoughts of hoar antiquity,\n Should now in this land dwell,\n Dishonoured, deemed a plague,\n I breathe out rage, and every form of wrath;\n Ah, Earth! fie on it! fie!\n What pang is this that thrills through all my breast?\n Hear thou, O mother Night,\n Hear thou my vehement wrath!\n For lo! deceits that none can wrestle with\n Have thrust me out from honours old of Gods,\n And made a thing of nought. 840\n\n _Athena._ I will not weary, telling thee of good,\n That thou may'st never say that thou, being old,\n Wert at the hands of me, a younger Goddess,\n And those of men who in my city dwell,\n Driven in dishonour, exiled from this plain.\n But if the might of Suasion thou count holy,\n And my tongue's blandishments have power to soothe,\n Then thou wilt stay; but if thou wilt not stay,\n Not justly would'st thou bring upon this city,\n Or wrath, or grudge, or mischief for its host.\n It rests with thee, as dweller in this spot,[539] 850\n To meet with all due honour evermore.\n\n _Chor._ Athena, Queen, what seat assign'st thou me?\n\n _Athena._ One void of touch of evil; take thou it.\n\n _Chor._ Say I accept. What honour then is mine?\n\n _Athena._ That no one house apart from thee shall prosper.\n\n _Chor._ And wilt thou work that I such might may have?\n\n _Athena._ His lot who worships thee we'll guide aright.\n\n _Chor._ And wilt thou give thy warrant for all time?\n\n _Athena._ What I work not I might refrain from speaking.\n\n _Chor._ It seems thou sooth'st me: I relax my wrath. 860\n\n _Athena._ In this land dwelling thou new friends shalt gain.\n\n _Chor._ What hymn then for this land dost bid me raise?\n\n _Athena._ Such as is meet for no ill-victory.[540]\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n And pray that blessings upon men be sent.\n And that, too, both from earth, and ocean's spray,\n And out of heaven; and that the breezy winds,\n In sunshine blowing, sweep upon the land,\n And that o'erflowing fruit of field and flock\n May never fail my citizens to bless,\n Nor safe deliverance for the seed of men.\n But for the godless, rather root them out: 870\n For I, like gardener shepherding his plants,\n This race of just men freed from sorrow love.\n So much for thee: and I will never fail\n To give this city honour among men,\n Victorious in the noble games of war.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ I will accept this offered home with Pallas,\n Nor will the city scorn,\n Which e'en All-ruling Zeus\n And Ares give as fortress of the Gods,\n The altar-guarding pride of Gods of Hellas; 880\n And I upon her call,\n With kindly auguries,\n That so the glorious splendour of the sun\n May cause life's fairest portion in thick growth\n *To burgeon from the earth.\n\n _Athena._ Yea, I work with kindliest feeling\n For these my townsmen, having settled\n Powers great, and hard to soothe among them:\n Unto them the lot is given,\n All things human still to order; 890\n He who hath not felt their pressure\n Knows not whence life's scourges smite him:\n For the sin of generations\n Past and gone;\u2014a dumb destroyer,\u2014\n Leads him on into their presence,\n And with mood of foe low bringeth\n Him whose lips are speaking proudly.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n _Chor._ Let no tree-blighting canker breathe on them,\n (I tell of boon I give,)\n Nor blaze of scorching heat,\n That mars the budding eyes of nursling plants, 900\n And checks their spreading o'er their narrow bounds;\n And may no dark, drear plague\n Smite it with barrenness.\n But may Earth feed fair flock in season due,\n Blest with twin births, and earth's rich produce pay\n To the high heavenly Powers,\n Its gift for treasure found.[541]\n\n _Athena._ Hear ye then, ye city's guardians,\n What she offers? Dread and mighty 910\n With the Undying is Erinnys;\n And with Those beneath the earth too,\n And full clearly and completely\n Work they all things out for mortals,\n Giving these the songs of gladness,\n Those a life bedimmed with weeping.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ Avaunt, all evil chance\n That brings men low in death before their time!\n And for the maidens lovely and beloved,\n Give, ye whose work it is,\n Life with a husband true,\n And ye, O Powers of self-same mother born, 920\n Ye Fates who rule aright,\n Partners in every house,\n Awe-striking through all time,\n With presence full of righteousness and truth,\n Through all the universe\n Most honoured of the Gods!\n\n _Athena._ Much I joy that thus ye promise\n These boons to my land in kindness;\n And I love the glance of Suasion,\n That she guides my speech and accent\n Unto these who gainsaid stoutly. 930\n But the victory is won by\n Zeus, the agora's protector;\n And our rivalry in blessings\n Is the conqueror evermore.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n _Chor._ For this too I will pray,\n That Discord, never satiate with ill,\n May never ravine in this commonwealth,\n Nor dust that drinks dark blood\n From veins of citizens,\n Through eager thirst for vengeance, from the State\n Snatch woes as penalty\n For deeds of murderous guilt.\n But may they give instead\n With friendly purpose acts of kind intent, 940\n And if need be, may hate\n With minds of one accord;\n For this is healing found to mortal men\n Of many a grievous woe.\n\n _Athena._ Are they not then waxing wiser,\n And at last the path discerning\n Of a speech more good and gentle?\n Now from these strange forms and fearful,\n See I to my townsmen coming,\n E'en to these, great meed of profit;\n For if ye, with kindly welcome,\n Honour these as kind protectors,\n Then shall ye be famed as keeping,\n Just and upright in all dealings,\n Land and city evermore.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ Rejoice, rejoice ye in abounding wealth,\n Rejoice, ye citizens,\n Dwelling near Zeus himself,[542] 950\n Loved of the virgin Goddess whom ye loved,\n In due time wise of heart,\n You, 'neath the wings of Pallas ever staying,[543]\n The Father honoureth.\n\n _Athena._ Rejoice ye also, but before you\n I must march to show your chambers,\n By your escorts' torches holy;\n Go, and with these dread oblations 960\n Passing to the crypt cavernous,\n Keep all harm from this our country,\n Send all gain upon our city,\n Cause it o'er its foes to triumph.\n Lead ye on, ye sons of Cranaos,[544]\n Lead, ye dwellers in the city,\n Those who come to sojourn with you,\n And may good gifts work good purpose\n In my townsmen evermore!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n _Chor._ Rejoice, rejoice once more, ye habitants! 970\n I say it yet again,\n Ye Gods, and mortals too,\n Who dwell in Pallas' city. Should ye treat\n With reverence us who dwell\n As sojourners among you, ye shall find\n No cause to blame your lot.\n\n _Athena._ I praise these words of yours, the prayers ye offer,\n And with the light of torches flashing fire,\n Will I escort you to your dark abode,[545]\n Low down beneath the earth, with my attendants,\n Who with due honour guard my statue here,\n For now shall issue forth the goodly eye\n Of all the land of Theseus; fair-famed troop 980\n Of girls and women, band of matrons too,\n In upper vestments purple-dyed arrayed:\n *Now then advance ye; and the blaze of fire,\n Let it go forth, that so this company\n Stand forth propitious, henceforth and for aye,\n In rearing race of noblest citizens,\n\n _Enter an array of women, young and old, in procession, leading the\n Erinnyes\u2014now, as propitiated, the Eumenides or Gentle Ones\u2014to\n their shrines_\n\n\n _Chorus of Athenian women_\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Go to your home, ye great and jealous Ones,\n Children of Night, and yet no children ye;[546]\n With escort of good-will,\n Shout, shout, ye townsmen, shout.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n There in the dark and gloomy caves of earth,\n With worthy gifts and many a sacrifice 990\n Consum\u00e8d in the fire\u2014\n Shout, shout ye, one and all.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Come, come, with thought benign\n Propitious to our land,\n Ye dreaded Ones, yea, come,\n While on your progress onward ye rejoice,\n In the bright light of fire-devour\u00e8d torch;\n Shout, shout ye to our songs.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n Let the drink-offerings come,\n In order meet behind,\n While torches fling their light;\n *Zeus the All-seeing thus hath joined in league\n *With Destiny for Pallas' citizens;\n Shout, shout ye to our songs.\n\n [_The procession winds its way_, ATHENA _at its head, then\n the Eumenides, then the women, round the Areopagos\n towards the ravine in which the dread Goddesses were\n to find their sanctuary._\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 466:\n\n The succession is, in part, accordant with that in the _Theogonia_ of\n Hesiod (vv. 116-136), but the special characteristic of the \u00c6schylean\n form of the legend is that each change is a step in a due, rightful\n succession, as by free gift, not accomplished (as in other narratives\n of the same transition) by violence and wrong.\n\nFootnote 467:\n\n Ph\u0153be, in the _Theogonia_, marries Coios, and becomes the mother of\n Leto, or Latona, and so the grandmother of Apollo. The \u201cbirthday gift\u201d\n was commonly presented on the eighth day after birth, when the child\n was named. The oracle is spoken of as such a gift to Apollo, as\n bearing the name of Ph\u0153bos.\n\nFootnote 468:\n\n The sacred circular pool of Delos is the crater of an extinct volcano.\n There Apollo was born, and thence he passed through Attica to\n Parnassos, to take possession of the oracle, according to one form of\n the myth, depriving Themis of it and slaying the dragon Python that\n kept guard over it.\n\nFootnote 469:\n\n The people of Attica are thus named either as being mythically\n descended from Erichthonios the son of Heph\u00e6stos, or as artificers,\n who own him as their father. The words refer to the supposed origin of\n the Sacred Road from Athens to Delphi, passing through B\u0153otia and\n Phokis. When the Athenians sent envoys to consult the oracle they were\n preceded by men bearing axes, in remembrance of the original\n pioneering work which had been done for Apollo. The first work of\n active civilisation was thus connected with the worship of the giver\n of Light and Wisdom.\n\nFootnote 470:\n\n Delphos, the hero _Eponymos_ (name-giving) of Delphi, was honoured as\n the son of Poseidon. Hence the Priestess invokes the latter as one of\n the guardian deities of the shrine.\n\nFootnote 471:\n\n Pronaia, as having her shrine or statue in front of the temple of\n Apollo.\n\nFootnote 472:\n\n The Korykian rock in Parnassos, as in Soph., _Antig._, v. 1128; known\n also as the \u201cNymphs' cavern.\u201d\n\nFootnote 473:\n\n Bromios, a name of Dionysos, embodying the special attributes of loud,\n half-frenzied revelry.\n\nFootnote 474:\n\n In the legend which Euripides follows, Kith\u00e6ron, not Parnassos, is the\n scene of the death of Pentheus. He, it was said, opposed the wild or\n frantic worship of the Pelasgic Bacchos, concealed himself that he\n might behold the mysteries of the M\u0153nads, and was torn to pieces by\n his mother and two others, on whose eyes the God had cast such glamour\n that they took him for a wild beast. English readers may be referred\n to Dean Milman's translation of the _Bacchanals_ of Euripides.\n\nFootnote 475:\n\n Pleistos, topographically, a river flowing through the vale of Delphi,\n mythically the father of the nymphs of Korykos.\n\nFootnote 476:\n\n At one time the Oracle had been open to questioners once in the year\n only, afterwards once a month. The pilgrims, after they had made their\n offerings, cast lots, and the doors were opened to him to whom the lot\n had fallen. Plutarch, _Qu. Gr\u00e6c._, p. 292.\n\nFootnote 477:\n\n The altar of the adytum, on the very centre, as men deemed, of the\n whole earth. Zeus, it was said, had sent forth two eagles at the same\n moment; one from the East and the other from the West, and here it was\n that they had met. The stone was of white marble, and the two eagles\n were sculptured on it. Strabo, ix. 3.\n\nFootnote 478:\n\n The priestess dwells upon the outward tokens, which showed that the\n suppliant came as one whose need was specially urgent. On the ritual\n of supplication generally comp. _Suppl._, vv. 22, 348, 641, Soph.,\n _\u0152d. King_, v. 3; _\u0152d. Col._, vv. 469-489.\n\nFootnote 479:\n\n \u00c6schylos apparently follows the _Theogonia_ of Hesiod, (l. 278), who\n describes the Gorgons as three in number, daughters of Phorkys and\n Keto, and bearing the names of Stheno, Euryale, and Medusa. The last\n enters into the Perseus cycle of myths, as one of the monsters whom he\n conquered, with a face once beautiful, but with her hair turned to\n serpents by the wrath of Athena, and so dreadful to look upon that\n those who gazed on her were turned to stone. When Perseus had slain\n her, Athena placed her head in her \u00e6gis, and thus became the terror of\n all who were foes to herself or her people. A wild legendary account\n of them meets us in the _Prom. Bound_, v. 812. As works of art, the\n Gorgon images are traceable to the earliest or Kyclopian period.\n\nFootnote 480:\n\n Here also we have a reference to a familiar subject of early Greek\n art, probably to some painting familiar to an Athenian audience. The\n name of Phineus indicates that the monstrous forms spoken of are those\n of the Harpies, birds with women's faces, or women with birds' wings,\n who were sent to vex the blind seer for his cruelty to the children of\n his first marriage. Comp. Soph. _Antig._, v. 973. In the _\u00c6neid_ they\n appear (iii. 225) as dwelling in the Strophades, and harassing \u00c6neas\n and his companions.\n\nFootnote 481:\n\n The old image of Pallas, carved in olive-wood, as distinguished from\n later sculpture.\n\nFootnote 482:\n\n The early code of hospitality bound the host, who as such had once\n received a guest under the shelter of his roof, not to desert him,\n even though he might discover afterwards that he had been guilty of\n great crimes, but to escort him safely to the boundary of his\n territory. Thus Apollo, as the host with whom Orestes had taken\n refuge, sends Hermes, the escort God, to guide and defend him on his\n way to Athens.\n\nFootnote 483:\n\n The thought that the highest wisdom came to men rather in \u201cvisions of\n the night, when deep sleep falleth on men,\u201d than through the waking\n senses, which we have already met with in _Agam._, v. 173, is\n traceable to the mysticism of Pythagoras, more distinctly perhaps to\n that of Epimenides.\n\nFootnote 484:\n\n Wine, as in Soph. _\u0152d. Col._, vv. 100, 481, was rigidly excluded from\n the _cultus_ of the Eumenides, and to them only as daughters of Night\n were midnight sacrifices offered. We must not lose sight of the\n thought thus implied, that Clyt\u00e6mnestra had herself lived, after her\n deed of guilt, in perpetual terror of the Erinnyes, seeking to soothe\n them by her sacrifices.\n\nFootnote 485:\n\n The common rendering \u201cin a dream\u201d gives a sufficient meaning, and is,\n of course, tenable enough. But there is a force in the repetition of\n the same word, as in v. 116, which is thus lost, and which I have\n endeavoured to preserve. The Erinnyes, thus impotent in their rage,\n are as much mere dreamlike spectres as is the ghost of Clyt\u00e6mnestra.\n\nFootnote 486:\n\n Here, as throughout \u00c6schylos, the Olympian divinities are thought of\n as new comers, thrusting from their thrones the whole Chthonian and\n Titanic dynasty, Gods of the conquering Hellenes superseding those of\n the Pelasgi.\n\nFootnote 487:\n\n The accumulation of horrid forms of cruelty had, probably, a special\n significance for the Athenians. These punishments belonged to their\n enemies, the Persians, not to the Hellenic race, and the poet's\n purpose was to rekindle patriotic feeling by dwelling on their\n barbarity, as in _Agam._, v. 894, he points in like manner to their\n haughtiness and luxury.\n\nFootnote 488:\n\n The argument of the Erinnyes is, to some extent, like that of the\n Antigone of Sophocles (_Antig._, 909-913), and the wife of Intaphernes\n (Herod. iii. 119). The tie which binds the husband to the wife is less\n sacred than that between the mother and the son. This, therefore,\n brings on the slayer the guilt of blood of kin, while murder in the\n other case is reduced to simple homicide. Orestes therefore was not\n justified in perpetrating the greater crime as a retribution for the\n less. Apollo, in meeting this plea, asserts the sacredness of the\n marriage bond as standing on the same level as that of consanguinity.\n\nFootnote 489:\n\n The ideal interval of time between the two parts of the drama is left\n undefined, but it would seem from vv. 230, 274-6, and 429, to have\n been long enough to have allowed of many wanderings to sacred places,\n Orestes does not go straight from Delphi to Athens. He appears now,\n not as before dripping and besmeared with blood, but with hands and\n garments purified.\n\nFootnote 490:\n\n The story of Adrastos and Cr\u0153sos in Herod. i. 35, illustrates the\n gradual purification of which Orestes speaks. The penitent who has the\n stain of blood-guiltiness upon him comes to the king, and the king, as\n his host, performs the lustral rites for him. Here Orestes urges that\n he has been received at many homes, and gone through many such\n lustrations. He has been cleansed from the pollution of sin: what he\n now seeks, to use the terminology of a later system, is a forensic\n justification.\n\nFootnote 491:\n\n _Sc._, the scent of blood, which, though no longer visible to the eyes\n of men, still lingers round him and is perceptible to his pursuers.\n\nFootnote 492:\n\n Here, too, we trace the political bearing of the play. In the year\n when it was produced (B.C. 458) an alliance with Argos was the\n favourite measure of the more conservative party at Athens.\n\nFootnote 493:\n\n The names Triton and Tritonis, wherever found in classical geography\n (Libya, Crete, Thessaly, B\u0153otia), are always connected with the legend\n that Athena was born there. Probably both name and legend were carried\n from Greece to Libya, and then amalgamated with the indigenous local\n worship of a warlike goddess. Hesiod (iv. 180, 188) connects the\n Libyan lake with the legend of Jason and Argonauts.\n\nFootnote 494:\n\n In the war with the giants fought in the Phlegr\u00e6an plains (the\n volcanic district of Campania) Athena had helped her father Zeus by\n her wise counsel, and was honoured there as keeping in check the\n destructive Titanic forces which had been so subdued, burying\n Enkelados, _e.g._, in Sicily. The \u201cfriends\u201d are her Libyan\n worshippers. The passage is interesting, as showing the extent of\n \u00c6schylos's acquaintance with the African and Italian coasts of the\n Mediterranean.\n\nFootnote 495:\n\n The Choral ode here is brought in as an incantation. This weapon is to\n succeed where others have failed, and this too, the frenzy which\n seizes the soul in the remembrance of its past transgression, is\n soothed and banished by Athena.\n\nFootnote 496:\n\n White, as the special colour of festal joy, was not used in the\n worship of the Erinnyes.\n\nFootnote 497:\n\n Another rendering gives\u2014\n\n \u201cTo dim the bright hue of the fresh-shed blood.\u201d\n\nFootnote 498:\n\n The thought which underlies the obscurity of a corrupt passage seems\n to be that, as they relieve the Gods from the task of being avengers\n of blood, all that the Gods on their side can legitimately do against\n them is to render powerless the prayers for vengeance offered by the\n kindred of the slain. Their very isolation, as Chthonian deities, from\n the Gods of Olympos should protect them from open conflict. But an\n alternative rendering of the second line gives, perhaps, a better\n meaning\u2014\n\n \u201cAnd by the prayers men offer unto me\n Work freedom for the Gods;\u201d\n\n _i.e._, by being the appointed receivers of such prayers for\n vengeance, they leave the Gods free for a higher and serener life.\n\nFootnote 499:\n\n Perhaps, \u201cWith torch of sunless gloom.\u201d\n\nFootnote 500:\n\n The words contain an allusion to the dispute between Athens and\n Mitylene in the time of Peisistratos, as to the possession of Sigeion.\n Athena asserts that it had been given to her by the whole body of\n Ach\u00e6ans at the time when they had taken Tro\u00efa. Comp. Herod. vv. 94,\n 95. It probably entered into the political purposes of the play to\n excite the Athenians to a war in this direction, so as to draw them\n off from the constitutional changes proposed by Pericles and\n Ephialtes.\n\nFootnote 501:\n\n Here, and throughout the trial, we have to bear in mind the\n technicalities of Athenian judicial procedure. The prosecutor, in the\n first instance, tendered to the accused an oath that he was not\n guilty. This he might accept or refuse. In the latter case, the course\n of the trial was at least stopped, and judgment might be recorded\n against him. If he could bring himself to accept it, he was acquitted\n of the special charge of which he was accused, but he was liable to a\n prosecution afterwards for that perjury. If, on the other hand, he\n tendered an oath affirming his guilt to the prosecutor, he placed\n himself in his hands. Orestes, not being able to deny the fact, will\n not declare on oath that he is \u201cnot guilty,\u201d but neither will he place\n himself in the power of his accusers. The peculiarities of this use of\n oaths were: (1) That they were taken by the parties to the suit, not\n by the witnesses. (2) That if both parties agreed to that mode of\n decision, the oath was either way decisive. An allusion to the latter\n practice is found in Heb. vi. 16, and traces of it are found in the\n law-proceedings of Scotland. If either party refused, the cause had to\n be tried in the usual way, and witnesses were called.\n\nFootnote 502:\n\n \u00c6schylos seems here to attach himself to the principles of those who\n were seeking to reform the practice described in the previous note as\n being at once cumbrous and unjust, throwing its weight into the scale\n of the least scrupulous conscience, and to urge a simpler, more\n straightforward trial. The same objection is noticed by Aristotle in\n his discussion of the subject. (_Rhet._ i. 15.)\n\nFootnote 503:\n\n Athena offers herself, not as arbitrator or sovereign judge, but as\n presiding over the court of jurors whom she proceeds to appoint.\n\nFootnote 504:\n\n Ixion appeared in the mythical history of Greece as the prototype of\n all suppliants for purification. When he had murdered Deioneus, Zeus\n had had compassion to him, received him as a guest, cleansed him from\n his guilt. His ingratitude for this service was the special guilt of\n his attempted outrage upon Hera. The case is mentioned again in v.\n 687.\n\nFootnote 505:\n\n In heathen, as in Jewish sacrifices, the blood was the very instrument\n of purification. It was sprinkled or poured upon men, and they became\n clean. But this could not be done by the criminal himself, nor by any\n chance person. The service had to be rendered by a friend, who of very\n love gave himself to this mediatorial work.\n\nFootnote 506:\n\n In the legend related by Pausanias (_Corinth._, c. 3), Tr\u0153zen was the\n first place where Orestes was thus received, and in his time the\n descendants of those who had thus helped held periodical feasts in\n commemoration of it.\n\nFootnote 507:\n\n The course which Athena takes is: (1) to receive Orestes as a settler\n with the rights which attached to such persons on Athenian soil, not a\n criminal fugitive to be simply surrendered; (2) to offer to the\n Erinnyes, as being too important to be put out of court, a fair and\n open trial; (3) to acknowledge that he and they are equally\n \u201cblameless,\u201d as far as she is concerned. She has no complaint to make\n of them.\n\nFootnote 508:\n\n The red blight of vines and wheat was looked on as caused by drops of\n blood which the Erinnyes had let fall.\n\nFootnote 509:\n\n Stress is laid on the fact that the judges of the Areopagos, in\n contrast with those of the inferior tribunes of Athens, discharged\n their duty under the sanction of an oath.\n\nFootnote 510:\n\n Perhaps\n\n \u201cAnd each from each shall learn, as he predicts\n His neighbour's ills, that he\n Shares in the same and harbours them, and speaks,\n Poor wretch, of cures that fail.\u201d\n\nFootnote 511:\n\n At a more advanced period of human thought, Cicero (_Orat. pro\n Roscio_, c. 24) could point to the \u201cthoughts that accuse each other,\u201d\n the horror and remorse of the criminal, as the true Erinnyes, the\n \u201cassidu\u00e6 domestic\u00e6que Furi\u00e6.\u201d \u00c6schylos clings to the mythical\n symbolism as indispensable for the preservation of the truth which it\n shadowed forth.\n\nFootnote 512:\n\n Once again we have the poet of constitutional conservatism keeping the\n _via media_ between Peisistratos and Pericles.\n\nFootnote 513:\n\n The Tyrrhenian trumpet, with its bent and twisted tube, retained its\n proverbial pre-eminence from the days of \u00c6schylos and Sophocles\n (_Aias_, 17) to those of Virgil (_\u00c6n._, viii. 526).\n\nFootnote 514:\n\n The fondness of the Athenians for litigation, and the large share\n which every citizen took in the administration of justice, would\n probably make the scene which follows, with all its technicalities,\n the part of the play into which they would most enter.\n\nFootnote 515:\n\n It was necessary that some one, sitting as President of the Court,\n should formally open the pleadings, by calling on this side or that to\n begin. Here Athena takes that office on herself, and calls on the\n Erinnyes.\n\nFootnote 516:\n\n The technicalities of the Areopagos are still kept up. The three\n points on which the Erinnyes, as prosecutors, lay stress are: (1) the\n fact of the murder; (2) the mode; (3) the motive. \u201cThree bouts,\u201d as\n referring to the rule of the arena, that three struggles for the\n mastery should be decisive.\n\nFootnote 517:\n\n The pleas put in by the Erinnyes as prosecutors are: (1) That\n Clyt\u00e6mnestra had been adequately punished by her death, while Orestes\n was still alive; and (2) when asked why they had not intervened to\n bring about that punishment, that the relationship between husband and\n wife was less close than that between mother and son. They drew, in\n other words, a distinction between consanguinity and affinity, and\n upon this the rest of the discussion turns. Orestes, and Apollo as his\n counsel, on the other hand, meet this with the rejoinder, that there\n is no blood-relationship between the mother and her offspring.\n\nFootnote 518:\n\n _Sc._ Their oath to give a verdict according to the evidence must\n yield to the higher obligation of following the Divine will rather\n than the letter of the law.\n\nFootnote 519:\n\n To have died in health by the arrows of a woman-warrior might have\n been borne. To be slain by a wife treacherously in his bath was to\n endure a far worse outrage.\n\nFootnote 520:\n\n In this new argument, and the answer to it, we may trace, as in the\n _Prometheus_ and the _Agamemnon_, the struggles of the questioning\n intellect against the more startling elements of the popular religious\n belief. Zeus is worshipped as the supreme Lord, yet His dominion seems\n founded on might as opposed to goodness, on the unrighteous expulsion\n of another. Here, in Apollo's answer, there is a glimmer of a possible\n reconciliation. The old and the new, the sovereignty of Cronos and\n that of Zeus may be reconciled, and one supreme God be \u201call in all.\u201d\n\nFootnote 521:\n\n Comp. the thought and language of the _Suppliants_, v. 93.\n\nFootnote 522:\n\n The last argument is, that the acquittal can be, at the best, partial\n only, not complete; formal, not real. There would remain for ever the\n pollution which would exclude Orestes from the _Phratria_, the\n clan-brotherhood, by which, as by a sacramental bond, all the members\n were held together.\n\nFootnote 523:\n\n The question seems to have been one of those which occupied men's\n minds in their first gropings towards the mysteries of man's physical\n life, and both popular metaphors and primary impressions were in\n favour of the hypothesis here maintained. Euripides (_Orest._, v. 534)\n puts the same argument into the mouth of Orestes.\n\nFootnote 524:\n\n The story of Athena's birth, full-grown, from the head of Zeus, is\n next referred to as the leading case bearing on the point at issue.\n\nFootnote 525:\n\n Here, of course, the political interest of the whole drama reached its\n highest point. What seems comparatively flat to us must, to the\n thousands who sat as spectators, have been fraught with the most\n intense excitement, showing itself in shouts of applause, or audible\n tokens of clamorous dissent. The rivalry of Whigs and Tories over\n Addison's _Cato_, the sensation produced in times of Papal aggression\n by the king's answer to Pandulph in _King John_, presents analogies\n which are worth remembering.\n\nFootnote 526:\n\n The story ran that the tribe of women warriors from the Caucasos, or\n the Thermodon, known by this name, had invaded Attica under Oreithyia,\n when Theseus was king, to revenge the wrongs he had done them, and to\n recover her sister Hippolyta. Ares, the God of Thrakians, Skythians,\n and nearly all the wilder barbaric tribes, was their special deity;\n and when they occupied the hill which rose over against the Acropolis,\n they sacrificed to him, and so it gained the name of the _Areopagos_,\n or \u201chill of Ares.\u201d\n\nFootnote 527:\n\n As in the _Agamemnon_ (v. 1010), so here we find the aristocratic\n conservative poet showing his colours, protesting against the\n admission to the Archonship, and therefore to the Areopagos, of men of\n low birth or in undignified employments.\n\nFootnote 528:\n\n The words, like all political clap-trap, are somewhat vague; but, as\n understood at the time, the \u201clawless\u201d policy alluded to was that of\n Pericles and Ephialtes, who sought to deface and to diminish the\n jurisdiction of the Areopagos, and the \u201ctyrannical,\u201d that which had\n crushed the independence of Athens under Peisistratos. Between the two\n was the conservative party, of which Kimon had been the leader.\n\nFootnote 529:\n\n The Skythians may be named simply as representing all barbarous,\n non-Hellenic races; but they appear, about this time, wild and nomadic\n as their life was, to have impressed the minds of the Greeks somewhat\n in the same way as the Germans did the minds of the Romans in the time\n of Tacitus. Tales floated from travellers' lips of their wisdom and\n their happiness\u2014of sages like Zamolxis and Aristarchos, who rivalled\n those of Hellas\u2014of the Hyperborei, in the far north, who enjoyed a\n perpetual and unequalled blessedness.\u2014Comp. _Libation-Pourers_, v.\n 366.\n\nFootnote 530:\n\n Two topics of praise are briefly touched on: (1) the lower, popular\n courts of justice at Athens might be open to the suspicion of\n corruption, but no breath of slander had ever tainted the fame of the\n Areopagos; (2) it met by night, keeping its watch, that the citizens\n might sleep in peace.\n\nFootnote 531:\n\n The first of the twelve jurymen rises and drops his voting-ballot into\n one of the urns, and is followed by another at the end of each of the\n short two-line speeches in the dialogue that follows. The two urns of\n acquittal and condemnation stand in front of them. The plan of voting\n with different coloured balls (black and white) in the same urn, was a\n later usage.\n\nFootnote 532:\n\n Compare note on v. 419.\n\nFootnote 533:\n\n In the legend of Admetos son of Pheres, and king of Pher\u00e6 in\n Thessalia, Apollo is represented as having first given wine to the\n Destinies, and then persuaded them to allow Admetos, whenever the hour\n of death should come, to be redeemed from Hades, if father, or mother,\n or wife were willing to die for him. The self-surrender of his wife,\n Alkestis, for this purpose, forms the subject of the noblest of the\n tragedies of Euripides.\n\nFootnote 534:\n\n Partly as setting at nought the power of Erinnyes and the Destinies,\n partly as giving wine to those whose libations were wineless.\u2014Comp.\n Sophocles, _\u0152d. Col._ v. 100.\n\nFootnote 535:\n\n The practice of the Areopagos is accurately reproduced. When the votes\n of the judges were equal a casting vote was given in favour of the\n accused, and was known as that of Athena.\n\nFootnote 536:\n\n Another reading gives\u2014\n\n \u201cBy spurting from your throats those venom drops.\u201d\n\nFootnote 537:\n\n The conservative poet enters his protest through the Erinnyes against\n the innovating spirit that looked with contempt upon the principles of\n a past age.\n\nFootnote 538:\n\n Cock-fighting took its place among the recognised sports of the\n Athenians. Once a year there was a public performance in the theatre.\n\nFootnote 539:\n\n The Temple of the Eumenides or Semn\u00e6 (\u201cvenerable ones\u201d) stood near the\n Areopagos.\n\nFootnote 540:\n\n Some two or three lines have probably been lost here.\n\nFootnote 541:\n\n Probably an allusion to the silver-mine at Laureion, which about the\n time formed a large element of the revenues of Athens, and of which a\n tithe was consecrated to Athena.\n\nFootnote 542:\n\n Reference is made to another local sanctuary, the temple on the\n Areopagos dedicated to the Olympian Zeus.\n\nFootnote 543:\n\n The figure of Athena, as identical with Victory, and so the tutelary\n Goddess of Athens, was sculptured with out-spread wings.\n\nFootnote 544:\n\n Cranaos, the son of Kecrops, the mythical founder of Athens.\n\nFootnote 545:\n\n The sanctuaries of the Eumenides were crypt-like chapels, where they\n were worshipped by the light of lamps or torches.\n\nFootnote 546:\n\n Perhaps, \u201cChildren of Night, yourselves all childless left.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n FRAGMENTS\n\n\n 38\n APHRODITE _loquitur_\n\n The pure, bright heaven still yearns to blend with earth,\n And earth is filled with love for marriage-rites,\n And from the kindly sky the rain-shower falls\n And fertilises earth, and earth for men\n Yields grass for sheep, and corn, Dem\u00eater's gift;\n And from its wedlock with the South the fruit\n Is ripened in its season; and of this,\n All this, I am the cause accessory.\n\n\n 123\n\n So, in the Libyan fables, it is told\n That once an eagle, stricken with a dart,\n Said, when he saw the fashion of the shaft,\n \u201cWith our own feathers, not by others' hands,\n Are we now smitten.\u201d\n\n\n 147\n\n Of all the Gods, Death only craves not gifts:\n Nor sacrifice, nor yet drink-offering poured\n Avails; no altars hath he, nor is soothed\n By hymns of praise. From him alone of all\n The powers of Heaven Persuasion holds aloof.\n\n\n 151\n\n When 'tis God's will to bring an utter doom\n Upon a house, He first in mortal men\n Implants what works it out.\n\n\n 162\n\n The words of Truth are ever simplest found.\n\n\n 163\n\n What good is found in life that still brings pain?\n\n\n 174\n\n To many mortals silence great gain brings.\n\n\n 229\n\n O Death the Healer, scorn thou not, I pray,\n To come to me: of cureless ills thou art\n The one physician. Pain lays not its touch\n Upon a corpse.\n\n\n 230\n\n When the wind\n Nor suffers us to leave the port, nor stay.\n\n\n 243\n\n And if thou wish to benefit the dead,\n 'Tis all as one as if thou injured'st them,\n And they nor sorrow nor delight can feel:\n Yet higher than we are is Nemesis,\n And Justice taketh vengeance for the dead.\n\n\n 266\n\n THETIS _on the death of Achilles_\n\n Life free from sickness, and of many years,\n And in a word a fortune like to theirs\n Whom the Gods love, all this He spake to me\n As p\u00e6an-hymn, and made my heart full glad:\n And I full fondly trusted Ph\u0153bos' lips\n As holy and from falsehood free, of art\n Oracular an ever-flowing spring,\n And He who sang this, He who at the feast\n Being present, spake these things,\u2014yea, He it is\n That slew my son.\n\n\n 267\n\n The man who does ill, ill must suffer too.\n\n\n 268\n\n Evil on mortals comes full swift of foot,\n And guilt on him who doth the right transgress.\n\n\n 269\n\n Thou see'st a vengeance voiceless and unseen\n For one who sleeps or walks or sits at ease:\n It takes its course obliquely, here to-day,\n And there to-morrow. Nor does night conceal\n Men's deeds of ill, but whatsoe'er thou dost,\n Think that some God beholds it.\n\n\n 270\n\n \u201cAll have their chance:\u201d good proverb for the rich.\n\n\n 271\n\n Wise is the man who knows what profiteth,\n Not he who knoweth much.\n\n\n 272\n\n Full grievous burden is a prosperous fool.\n\n\n 272A\n\n From a just fraud God turneth not away.\n\n\n 273\n\n There is a time when God doth falsehood prize.\n\n\n 274\n\n The polished brass is mirror of the form,\n Wine of the soul.\n\n\n 275\n\n Words are the parents of a causeless wrath.\n\n\n 276\n\n Men credit gain for oaths, not oaths for them.\n\n\n 277\n\n God ever works with those that work with will.\n\n\n 278\n\n Wisdom to learn is e'en for old men good.\n\n\n 281\n\n The base who prosper are intolerable.\n\n\n 282\n\n The seed of mortals broods o'er passing things,\n And hath nought surer than the smoke-cloud's shadow.\n\n\n 283\n\n Old age hath stronger sense of right than youth.\n\n\n 286\n\n Yet though a man gets many wounds in breast,\n He dieth not, unless the appointed time,\n The limit of his life's span, coincide;\n Nor does the man who by the hearth at home\n Sits still, escape the doom that Fate decrees.\n\n\n 287\n\n How far from just the hate men bear to death,\n Which comes as safeguard against many ills.\n\n\n 288\n\n _To_ FORTUNE\n\n Thou did'st beget me; thou too, as it seems,\n Wilt now destroy me.\n\n\n 289\n\n The fire-moth's silly death is that I fear.\n\n\n 290\n\n I by experience know the race full well\n That dwells in \u00c6thiop land, where seven-mouthed Nile\n Rolls o'er the land with winds that bring the rain,\n What time the fiery sun upon the earth\n Pours its hot rays, and melts the snow till then\n Hard as the rocks; and all the fertile soil\n Of Egypt, filled with that pure-flowing stream,\n Brings forth Dem\u00eater's ears that feed our life.\n\n\n 291\n\n This hoopoo, witness of its own dire ills,\n He hath in varied garb set forth, and shows\n In full array that bold bird of the rocks\n Which, when the spring first comes, unfurls a wing\n Like that of white-plumed kite; for on one breast\n It shows two forms, its own and eke its child's,\n And when the corn grows gold, in autumn's prime,\n A dappled plumage all its form will clothe;\n And ever in its hate of these 'twill go\n Far off to lonely thickets or bare rocks.\n\n\n 292\n\n Still to the sufferer comes, as due from God,\n A glory that to suffering owes its birth.\n\n\n 293\n\n The air is Zeus, Zeus earth, and Zeus the heaven,\n Zeus all that is, and what transcends them all.\n\n\n 294\n\n Take courage; pain's extremity soon ends.\n\n\n 298\n\n When Strength and Justice are true yoke-fellows,\n Where can be found a mightier pair than they?\n\n\n\n\n RHYMED CHORUSES\n\n\n AGAMEMNON\n\n\n VERSES 40-248\n\n Nine weary years are gone and spent\n Since Menelaos' armament\n Sped forth, on work of vengeance bent,\n For Priam's guilty land;\n And with him Agamemnon there\n Throne, sceptre, army all did share;\n And so from Zeus the Atreid\u00e6 bear,\n Their twofold high command.\n They a fleet of thousand sail,\n Strong in battle to prevail,\n Led from out our Argive coast,\n Shouting war-cries to the host;\n E'en as vultures do that utter\n Shrillest screams as round they flutter,\n Grieving for their nestlings lost,\n Plying still their oary wings\n In many lonely wanderings,\n Robbed of all the sweet unrest\n That bound them to their young ones' nest.\n And One on high of solemn state,\n Apollo, Pan, or Zeus the great,\n When he hears that shrill wild cry\n Of his clients in the sky,\n On them, the godless who offend,\n Erinnys slow and sure doth send.\n So 'gainst Alexandros then\n The sons of Atreus, chiefs of men,\n Zeus sent to work his high behest,\n True guardian of the host and guest.\n He, for bride of many a groom,\n On Danai, Tro\u00efans sendeth doom,\n Many wrestlings, sinew-trying\n Of the knee in dust down-lying,\n Many a spear-shaft snapt asunder\n In the prelude of war's thunder.\n What shall be, shall, and still we see\n Fulfilled is destiny's decree.\n Nor by tears in secret shed,\n Nor by offerings o'er the dead,\n Will he soothe God's vengeful ire\n For altar hearths despoiled of fire.\n\n And we with age outworn and spent\n Are left behind that armament,\n With head upon our staff low bent.\n Weak our strength like that of boy;\n Youth's life-blood, in its bounding joy,\n For deeds of might is like to age,\n And knows not yet war's heritage:\n And the man whom many a year\n Hath bowed in withered age and sere,\n As with three feet creepeth on,\n Like phantom form of day-dream gone\n Not stronger than his infant son.\n\n And now, O Queen, who tak'st thy name\n From Tyndareus of ancient fame,\n Our Clyt\u00e6mnestra whom we own\n As rightly sharing Argos' throne!\n What tidings joyous hast thou heard,\n Token true or flattering word,\n That thou send'st to every shrine\n Solemn pomp in stately line,\u2014\n Shrines of Gods who reign in light,\n Or those who dwell in central night,\n Who in Heaven for aye abide,\n Or o'er the Agora preside.\n Lo, thy gifts on altars blaze,\n And here and there through heaven's wide ways\n The torches fling their fiery rays,\n Fed by soft and suasive spell\n Of the clear oil, flowing well\n From the royal treasure-cell.\n Telling what of this thou may,\n All that's meet to us to say,\n Do thou our haunting cares allay,\n Cares which now bring sore distress,\n While now bright hope, with power to bless,\n From out the sacrifice appears,\n And wardeth off our restless fears,\n The boding sense of coming fate,\n That makes the spirit desolate.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Yes, it is mine to tell\n What omens to our leaders then befell,\n Giving new strength for war,\n (For still though travelled far\n In life, by God's great gift to us belong\n The suasive powers of song,)\n To tell how those who bear\n O'er all Ach\u00e6ans sway in equal share,\n Ruling in one accord\n The youth of Hellas that own each as lord,\n Were sent with mighty host\n By mighty birds against the Tro\u00efan coast,\n Kings of the air to kings of men appearing\n Near to the palace, on the right hand veering;\n On spot seen far and near,\n They with their talons tear\n A pregnant hare with all her unborn young,\n All her life's course in death's deep darkness flung.\n Oh raise the bitter cry, the bitter wail;\n Yet pray that good prevail!\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n And then the host's wise seer\n Stood gazing on the Atreid\u00e6 standing near,\n Of diverse mood, and knew\n Those who the poor hare slew,\n And those who led the host with shield and spear,\n And spake his omens clear:\n \u201cOne day this host shall go,\n And Priam's city in the dust lay low,\n And all the kine and sheep\n Countless, which they before their high towers keep,\n Fate shall with might destroy:\n Only take heed that no curse mar your joy,\n Nor blunt the edge of curb that Tro\u00efa waiteth,\n Smitten too soon, for Artemis still hateth\n The wing\u00e8d hounds that own\n Her father on his throne,\n Who slay the mother with the young unborn,\n And looks upon the eagle's feast with scorn.\n Ah! raise the bitter cry, the bitter wail;\n Yet pray that good prevail.\n\n\n EPODE\n\n For she, the Fair One, though her mercy shields\n The lion's whelps, like dew-drops newly shed,\n And yeanling young of beasts that roam the fields,\n Yet prays her sire fulfil these omens dread,\n The good, the evil too.\n And now I call on him, our Healer true,\n Lest she upon the Danai send delays\n That keep our ships through many weary days,\n Urging a new strange rite,\n Unblest alike by man and God's high law,\n Evil close clinging, working sore despite,\n Marring a wife's true awe.\n For still there lies in wait,\n Fearful and ever new,\n Watching the hour its eager thirst to sate,\n Vengeance on those who helpless infants slew.\u201d\n Such things, ill mixed with good, great Calchas spake,\n As destined by the birds' strange auguries;\n And we too now our echoing answer make\n In loud and woeful cries:\n Oh raise the bitter cry, the bitter wail;\n Yet pray that good prevail.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n O Zeus, whoe'er Thou be,\n If that name please thee well,\n By that I call on Thee;\n For weighing all things else I fail to tell\n Of any name but Zeus;\n If once for all I seek\n Of all my haunting, troubled thoughts a truce,\n That name I still must speak.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n For He who once was great,\n Full of the might to war,\n Hath lost his high estate;\n And He who followed now is driven afar,\n Meeting his Master too:\n But if one humbly pay\n With 'bated breath to Zeus his honour due,\n He walks in wisdom's way,\u2014\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n To Zeus, who men in wisdom's path doth train,\n Who to our mortal race\n Hath given the fix\u00e8d law that pain is gain;\n For still through his high grace\n True counsel falleth on the heart like dew,\n In deep sleep of the night,\n The boding thoughts that out of ill deeds grew;\n This too They work who sit enthron\u00e8d in their might.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And then the elder leader of great fame\n Who ruled the Ach\u00e6ans' ships,\n Not bold enough a holy seer to blame\n With words from reckless lips,\n But tempered to the fate that on him fell;\u2014\n And when the host was vexed\n With tarryings long, scant stores, and surging swell,\n Chalkis still far off seen, and baffled hopes perplexed;\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n And stormy blasts that down from Strymon sweep,\n And breed sore famine with the long delay,\n Hurl forth our men upon the homeless deep\n On many a wandering way,\n Sparing nor ships, nor ropes, nor sailing gear,\n Doubling the weary months, and vexing still\n The Argive host with fear.\n Then when as mightier charm for that dread ill,\n Hard for our ships to bear,\n From the seer's lips did \u201cArtemis\u201d resound,\n The Atreid\u00e6 smote their staves upon the ground,\n And with no power to check, shed many a bitter tear.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n And then the elder of the chiefs thus cried:\n \u201cGreat woe it is the Gods to disobey;\n Great woe if I my child, my home's fond pride,\n With my own hands must slay,\n Polluting with the streams of maiden's blood\n A father's hands, the holy altar near.\n Which course hath least of good?\n How can I loss of ships and comrades bear?\n Right well may men desire,\n With craving strong, the blood of maiden pure\n As charm to lull the winds and calm ensure;\n Ah, may there come the good to which our hopes aspire!\u201d\n\n\n STROPHE V\n\n Then, when he his spirit proud\n To the yoke of doom had bowed,\n While the blasts of altered mood\n O'er his soul swept like a flood,\n Reckless, godless and unblest;\n Thence new thoughts upon him pressed,\n Thoughts of evil, frenzied daring,\n (Still doth passion, base guile sharing,\n Mother of all evil, hold\n The power to make men bad and bold,)\n And he brought himself to slay\n His daughter, as on solemn day,\n Victim slain the ship to save,\n When for false wife fought the brave.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE V\n\n All her cries and loud acclaim,\n Calling on her father's name,\u2014\n All her beauty fresh and fair,\n They heeded not in their despair,\n Their eager lust for conflict there.\n And her sire the attendants bade\n To lift her, when the prayer was said,\n Above the altar like a kid,\n Her face and form in thick veil hid;\n Yea, with ruthless heart and bold,\n O'er her gracious lips to hold\n Their watch, and with the gag's dumb pain\n From evil-boding words restrain.\n\n\n STROPHE VI\n\n And then upon the ground\n Pouring the golden streams of saffron veil,\n She cast a glance around\n That told its piteous tale,\n At each of those who stood prepared to slay,\n Fair as the form by skilful artist drawn,\n And wishing, all in vain, her thoughts to say;\n For oft of old in maiden youth's first dawn,\n Within her father's hall,\n Her voice to song did call,\n To chant the praises of her sire's high state,\n His fame, thrice blest of Heaven, to celebrate.\n What then ensued mine eyes\n Saw not, nor may I tell, but not in vain\n The arts of Calchas wise;\n For justice sends again,\n The lesson \u201cpain is gain\u201d for them to learn:\n But for our piteous fate since help is none,\n With voice that bids \u201cGood-bye,\u201d we from it turn\n Ere yet it come, and this is all as one\n With weeping ere the hour,\n For soon will come in power\n To-morrow's dawn, and good luck with it come!\n So speaks the guardian of this Apian home.\n\n\n VERSES 346-471\n\n O great and sovran Zeus, O Night,\n Great in glory, great in might,\n Who round Tro\u00efa's towers hast set,\n Enclosing all, thy close-meshed net,\n So that neither small nor great\n Can o'erleap the bondslave's fate,\n Or woe that maketh desolate;\n Zeus, the God of host and guest,\n Worker of all this confessed,\n He by me shall still be blest.\n Long since, 'gainst Alexandros He\n Took aim with bow that none may flee,\n That so his arrows onward driven,\n Nor miss their mark, nor pierce the heaven.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Yes, they lie smitten low,\n If so one dare to speak, by stroke of Zeus;\n Well one may trace the blow;\n The doom that He decreed their soul subdues.\n And though there be that say\n The Gods for mortal men care not at all,\n Though they with reckless feet tread holiest way,\n These none will godly call.\n Now is it to the children's children clear\n Of those who, overbold,\n More than was meet, breathed Discord's spirit drear;\n While yet their houses all rich store did hold\n Beyond the perfect mean.\n Ah! may my lot be free from all that harms,\n My soul may nothing wean\n From calm contentment with her tranquil charms;\n For nought is there in wealth\n That serves as bulwark 'gainst the subtle stealth\n Of Destiny and Doom,\n For one who, in the pride of wanton mood,\n Spurns the great altar of the Right and Good.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n Yea, a strange impulse wild\n Urges him on, resistless in its might,\n At\u00e8's far-scheming child.\n It knows no healing, is not hid in night,\n That mischief lurid, dark;\n Like bronze that will not stand the test of wear,\n A tarnished blackness in its hue we mark;\n And like a boy who doth a bird pursue\n Swift-floating on the wing,\n He to his country hopeless woe doth bring;\n And no God hears their prayer,\n But sendeth down the unrighteous to despair,\n Whose hands are stained with sin.\n So was it Paris came\n His entrance to the Atreid\u00e6's home to win,\n And brought its queen to shame,\n To shame that brand indelible hath set\n Upon the board where host and guest were met.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n And leaving to her countrymen to bear\n Wild whirl of ships of war and shield and spear,\n And bringing as her dower,\n Death's doom to Ilion's tower,\n She hath passed quickly through the palace gate,\n Daring what none should dare;\n And lo! the minstrel seers bewail the fate\n That home must henceforth share;\n \u201cWoe for the kingly house and for its lord;\n Woe for the marriage-bed and paths which still\n A vanished love doth fill!\n There stands he, wronged, yet speaking not a word\n Of scorn from wrathful will,\n Seeing with utter woe that he is left,\n Of her fair form bereft;\n And in his yearning love\n For her who now is far beyond the sea,\n A phantom queen through all the house shall rove;\n And all the joy doth flee\n The sculptured forms of beauty once did give;\n And in the penury of eyes that live,\n All Aphrodit\u00e8's grace\n Is lost in empty space.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n And spectral forms in visions of the night\n Come, bringing sorrow with their vain delight:\n For vain it is when one\n Thinks that great joy is near,\n And, passing through his hands, the dream is gone\n On gliding wings, that bear\n The vision far away on paths of sleep.\u201d\n Such woes were felt at home\n Upon the sacred altar of the hearth,\n And worse than these remain for those who roam\n From Hellas' parent earth:\n In every house, in number measureless,\n Is seen a sore distress:\n Yea, sorrows pierce the heart:\n For those who from his home he saw depart\n Each knoweth all too well;\n And now, instead of warrior's living frame,\n There cometh to the home where each did dwell\n The scanty ashes, relics of the flame,\n The urns of bronze that keep\n The dust of those that sleep.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n For Ares, who from bodies of the slain\n Reapeth a golden gain,\n And holdeth, like a trafficker, his scales,\n E'en where the torrent rush of war prevails,\n From Ilion homeward sends\n But little dust, yet burden sore for friends,\n O'er which, smooth-lying in the brazen urn,\n They sadly weep and mourn,\n Now for this man as foremost in the strife,\n And now for that who in the battle fell,\n Slain for another's wife.\n And muttered curses some in secret tell,\n And jealous discontent\n Against the Atreid\u00e6 who as champions led\n The mighty armament;\n And some around the wall, the goodly dead,\n Have there in alien land their monument,\n And in the soil of foes\n Take in the sleep of death their last repose.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And lo! the murmurs which our country fill\n Are as a solemn curse,\n And boding anxious fear expecteth still\n To hear of evil worse.\n Not blind the Gods, but giving fullest heed\n To those who cause a nation's wounds to bleed;\n And the dark-robed Erinnyes in due time\n By adverse chance and change\n Plunge him who prospers though defiled by crime\n In deepest gloom, and through its formless range\n No gleams of help appear.\n O'er-vaunted glory is a perilous thing;\n For on it Zeus, whose glance fills all with fear,\n His thunderbolts doth fling.\n That fortune fair I praise\n That rouseth not the Gods to jealousy.\n May I ne'er tread the devastator's ways,\n Nor as a prisoner see\n My life wear out in drear captivity!\n\n\n EPODE\n\n And now at bidding of the courier-flame,\n Herald of great good news,\n A murmur swift through all the city came;\n But whether it with truth its course pursues,\n Who knows? or whether God who dwells on high,\n With it hath sent a lie?\n Who is so childish, or of sense bereft,\n As first to feel the glow\n That message of the herald fire has left,\n And then to sink down low,\n Because the rumour changes in its sound?\n It is a woman's mood\n To accept a boon before the truth is found:\n Too quickly she believes in tidings good,\n And so the line exact\n That marks the truth of fact\n Is over-passed, and with quick doom of death\n A rumour spread by woman perisheth.\n\n\n VERSES 665-782\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Who was it named her with such foresight clear?\n Could it be One of might,\n In strange prevision of her work of fear,\n Guiding the tongue aright?\n Who gave that war-wed, strife-upstirring one\n The name of Helen, ominous of ill?\n For 'twas through her that Hellas was undone,\n That woes from Hell men, ships, and cities fill.\n Out from the curtains, gorgeous in their fold,\n Wafted by breeze of Zephyr, earth's strong child,\n She her swift way doth hold;\n And hosts of mighty men, as hunters bold\n That bear the spear and shield,\n Wait on the track of those who steered their way\n Unseen where Simois flows by leafy field,\n Urged by a strife that came with power to slay.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n And so the wrath which doth its work fulfil\n To Ilion brought, well-named,\n A marriage marring all, avenging still\n For friendship wronged and shamed,\n And outrage foul on Zeus, of host and guest\n The guardian God, from those who then did raise\n The bridal hymn of marriage-feast unblest\n Which called the bridegroom's kin to shouts of praise.\n But now by woe oppressed\n Priam's ancient city waileth very sore,\n And calls on Paris unto dark doom wed,\n Suffering yet more and more\n For all the blood of heroes vainly shed,\n And bearing through the long protracted years\n A life of wailing grief and bitter tears.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n One was there who did rear\n A lion's whelp within his home to dwell,\n A monster waking fear,\n Weaned from the mother's milk it loved so well:\n Then in life's dawning light,\n Loved by the children, petted by the old,\n Oft in his arms clasped tight,\n As one an infant newly-born would hold,\n With eye that gleamed beneath the fondling hand,\n And fawning as at hunger's strong command.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n But soon of age full grown,\n It showed the inbred nature of its sire,\n And wrought unasked, alone,\n A feast to be that fostering nurture's hire;\n Gorged full with slaughtered sheep,\n The house was stained with blood as with a curse\n No slaves away could keep,\n A murderous mischief waxing worse and worse,\n Sent as from God a priest from At\u00e8 fell,\n And reared within the man's own house to dwell.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n So I would say to Ilion then there came\n Mood as of calm when every wind is still,\n The gentle pride and joy of noble fame,\n The eye's soft glance that all the soul doth thrill;\n Love's full-blown flower that brings\n The thorn that wounds and stings;\n And yet she turned aside,\n And of the marriage feast wrought bitter end,\n Coming to dwell where Priam's sons abide,\n Ill sojourner, ill friend,\n Sent by great Zeus, the God of host and guest,\n A true Erinnys, by all wives unblest.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n There lives a saying framed of ancient days,\n And in men's minds imprinted firm and fast,\n That great good fortune never childless stays,\n But brings forth issue,\u2014that on fame at last\n There rushes on apace\n Great woe for all the race;\n But I, apart, alone,\n Hold a far other and a worthier creed:\n The impious act is by ill issue known,\n Most like the parent deed;\n While still for all who love the Truth and Right,\n Good fortune prospers, fairer and more bright.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n But wanton Outrage done in days of old\n Another wanton Outrage still doth bear,\n And mocks at human woes with scorn o'erbold,\n Or soon or late as they their fortune share.\n That other in its turn\n Begets Satiety,\n And lawless Might that doth all hindrance spurn,\n And sacred right defy,\n Two At\u00e8s fell within their dwelling-place,\n Like to their parent race.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n Yet Justice still shines bright in dwellings murk\n And dim with smoke, and honours calm content;\n But gold-bespangled homes, where guilt doth lurk,\n She leaves with glance in horror backward bent,\n And draws with reverent fear\n To places holier far,\n And little recks the praise the prosperous hear,\n Whose glories tarnished are;\n But still towards its destined goal she brings\n The whole wide course of things.\n\n Say then, son of Atreus, thou\n Who com'st as Tro\u00efa's conqueror now,\n What form of welcome right and meet,\n What homage thy approach to greet,\n Shall I now use in measure true,\n Nor more nor less than that is due?\n Many men there are, I wis,\n Who in seeming place their bliss,\n Caring less for that which is.\n If one suffers, then their wail\n Loudly doth the ear assail;\n Yet have they nor lot nor part\n In the grief that stirs the heart;\n So too the joyous men will greet\n With smileless faces counterfeit:\n But shepherd who his own sheep knows\n Will scan the lips that fawn and gloze,\n Ready still to praise and bless\n With weak and watery kindliness.\n Thou when thou the host did'st guide\n For Helen\u2014truth I will not hide\u2014\n In mine eyes had'st features grim,\n Such as unskilled art doth limn,\n Not guiding well the helm of thought,\n And giving souls with grief o'erwrought\n False courage from fresh victims brought,\n But with nought of surface zeal,\n Now full glad of heart I feel,\n And hail thy acts as deeds well done:\n Thou too in time shall know each one,\n And learn who wrongly, who aright\n In house or city dwells in might.\n\n\n VERSES 947-1001\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Why thus continually\n Do ever-haunting phantoms hover nigh\n My hearth that bodeth ill?\n Why doth the prophet's strain unbidden still,\n Unbought, flow on and on?\n Why on my mind's dear throne\n Hath faith lost all her former power to fling\n That terror from me as an idle thing?\n Yet since the ropes were fastened in the sand\n That moored the ships to land,\n When the great naval host to Ilion went,\n Time hath passed on to feeble age and spent.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n And now as face to face,\n Myself reporting to myself I trace\n Their safe return; and yet\n My mind, taught by itself, cannot forget\n Erinnys' dolorous cry,\n That lyreless melody,\n And hath no strength of wonted confidence.\n Not vain these pulses of the inward sense,\n As my heart beateth in its wild unrest,\n Within true-boding breast;\n And hoping against hope, I yet will pray\n My fears may all prove false and pass away.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Of high, o'erflowing health\n There is no limit found that satisfies;\n For soon by force or stealth,\n As foe 'gainst whom but one poor wall doth rise,\n Disease upon it presses, and the lot\n Of fair good fortune onward moves until\n It strikes on unseen reef where help is not.\n But should fear move their will\n For safety of their freight,\n With measured sling a part they sacrifice,\n And so avert their fate,\n Lest the whole house should sink no more to rise,\n O'erwhelmed with misery;\n Nor does the good ship perish utterly:\n So too abundant gift,\n From Zeus in double plenty, from the earth,\n Doth the worn soul from anxious care uplift,\n And turns the famished wail to bounding joy and mirth.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n But blood that once is shed\n In purple stream of death upon the ground,\n Who then, when life is fled,\n A charm to call it back again hath found?\n Else against him who raised the dead to life\n Zeus had not sternly warred, as warning given\n To all men; but if Fate were not at strife\n With Fate that brings from Heaven\n Help from the Gods, my heart,\n Out-stripping speech, had given thought free vent.\n But now in gloom apart\n It sits and moans in sullen discontent,\n And hath no hope that e'er\n It shall an issue seasonably fair\n From out the tangled skein\n Of life's strange course unravel straight and clear,\n While in the fever of continuing pain\n My soul doth burden sore of troublous anguish bear.\n\n\n\n\n THE LIBATION-POURERS\n\n\n VERSES 20-75\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Lo, from the palace door\n We wend our way to pour\n Gifts on the dead;\n And in our bitter woe,\n Our hands with many a blow\n Smite breast and head.\n On each fair cheek the nail\n Has ploughed full many a trail,\n And all to tatters torn\n The garments we have worn;\n The foldings of the vest\n O'er maiden's swelling breast\n Are roughly rent;\n For now on us the chance\n That shuts out joy and dance\n Our fate hath sent.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n A spectral vision clear\n Thrills every hair with fear,\n In haunted sleep,\n Breathing of dire distress,\n From innermost recess\n Its watch doth keep,\n Breaking with cry of fright\n The still deep hush of night:\n All through the queenly bower\n Sharp cry was heard that hour,\n And they to whom 'twas given\n To read decrees of Heaven,\n In dream o'er-true,\n By solemn pledges bound,\n Declared that underground\n The dead were wrathful found\n 'Gainst those that slew.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n And so the godless queen\n In eager haste is seen,\u2014\n Sends me with gifts like this,\n Full graceless grace, I wis,\n As if (O mother Earth,\n To whom we owe our birth!)\n To banish dread.\n And I would fain delay\n This prayer of mine to pray:\n What ransom can men pay\n For blood once shed?\n Oh, hearth and home of woe!\n Oh, utter overthrow!\n Foul mists brood o'er our halls:\n No ray of sunlight falls;\n Thick darkness from the tomb\n Of heroes makes the gloom\n Yet more intense.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n And awe that once we knew,\n Strong, mighty to subdue,\n Falling on every ear,\n Thrilling each soul with fear,\n Is gone far hence.\n There be that well may bow\n In craven terror now,\n For lo! Success enthroned\n As more than God is owned.\n But Vengeance will not fail\n Ere long to turn the scale.\n On some her strokes alight,\n While yet their day is bright;\n Some, as in twilight's gloom,\n O'erflow with gathering doom;\n Some endless night doth hold\n In realm of darkness old.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And for the blood which Earth,\n To whom it owed its birth,\n Hath drunk, there still doth wait\n A stern avenging Fate;\n The stain of blood doth stay,\n And will not pass away,\n And nerves are thrilled with pain\n In soul that sets in train\n The plague that works amain\n Its evil great.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n All help from him hath fled\n Who with adulterous tread\n Denies another's bed.\n Though many streams should pour\n Their waters o'er and o'er,\n Those waters evermore\n Are poured in vain;\n They cannot cleanse the guilt\n Of blood that once is spilt,\n Man's hand to stain.\n\n\n EPODE\n\n But since to me by Heaven\n The exile's life is given,\n (Yea, far from home I know\n The bondslave's cup of woe,)\n I needs must yield assent\n To good or ill intent,\n Accepting their commands\n Who rule with sceptred hands,\u2014\n Yea, I must hide my hate\n In this my evil fate,\n And under strong control\n Keep my rebellious soul;\n And now beneath my veil\n I weep my woes' full tale;\n For cares that vex and fret\n My cheeks with tears are wet.\n\n\n VERSES 576-639\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Many dread forms of woe and fear the Earth\n Doth breed; and Ocean's deep\n Is full of foes men hate, of monstrous birth;\n And Air's high pathways keep\n Their flashing meteors; birds that wing their flight,\n And things on earth that creep;\n And one might tell the wrath of whirlwind's might,\n When tempests wildly sweep.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n But who can tell man's purpose overbold?\n Or woman's, prompt to dare?\n Or the strong loves that men in bondage hold,\n And bring woe everywhere?\n Or strange conjunctions of the hearth and home?\n But still the palm they bear,\n The loves unloved that women overcome,\n And hold dominion there.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n And one whose thoughts are not o'erswift of wing,\n May learn and ponder well\n What purpose Thestios' child to act did bring,\n Purpose most dire and fell,\n Her burning thought who did her own child slay,\n Kindling the torch of death\n That with her child's life kept its equal way,\n Since coming from his mother's womb he cried,\n To that predestined day on which at last he died.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n And yet another must I in my song\n Devote to hate and scorn,\n The murderess Skylla, who to deeds of wrong\n By Minos' gifts was borne,\n And for her foes' sake slew a man she loved\n For Cretan chains gold-wrought;\n She with dog's heart the deathless lock removed\n From him, in deep sleep sunk; yet Hermes' power\n She too was taught at last at her appointed hour.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n But since I tell my tale of loathly crime,\n And of ill-omened marriage out of time,\n Wedlock our house abhors,\n The schemes and plots of women steeped in guile\n Against a warrior chief, a chief erewhile\n The dread of foes in wars,\n The foremost place I give to altar-hearth\n Where no wrath burns and woman knows the worth\n Of mood from daring free.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n Yet of all ills the Lemnian first may stand,\n The cry of loathing rings through all the land,\n And still each crime of dread\n A man will liken to the Lemnian ill;\n And now by woe that comes from God's stern will\n The race is gone and fled,\n Of all men scorned, for no man looks with love\n On deeds that to the high Gods hateful prove;\n Is not this clear to see?\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n And lo! the sword sharp-pointed pierces deep,\n E'en to the heart, the sword which Vengeance wields;\n The lawless deed will not neglected sleep,\n When men tread down what fear of high heaven shields;\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n But still the block of Vengeance firm doth stand,\n And Fate, as swordsmith, hammers blow on blow;\n And then with thoughts that none can understand,\n Erinnys comes far known, though working slow,\n And to the old house brings the youthful heir,\n That deeds of blood wrought out of olden time\n May the due judgment bear\n For each polluting crime.\n\n\n VERSES 769-820\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Oh, hear me, hear my prayer, thou mighty Lord!\n Sire of all Gods that on Olympos dwell,\n Hear Thou, and grant my longing heart's desire,\n That those who wise of heart would fain do well\n May see each prayer for right\n Fulfilled in holiest might;\n That prayer, O Zeus, I pray.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Do Thou protect him, yea, O Zeus, and bring\n Before his foes on yonder secret way;\n For if thou raise him high, then Thou, O king,\n Shalt to thy heart's content\n Receive a twofold, threefold recompence,\n For that thine anger bent\n Against each old offence.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n Look on the son of one whom Thou did'st love,\n Like orphan colt fast bound to car of woes;\n Set Thou a mark that may as limit prove;\n Ah, might one watch his footsteps as he goes,\n In measured course and true,\n This his own country through!\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And ye who in our home\n Stand in the shrine with plenteous wealth full stored,\n Hear, O ye Gods, and come,\n Yea, come with one accord,\n Lead him on, wash away\n With vengeance new the blood of crime of old;\n Let not the old guilt stay\n To breed fresh offspring where our home we hold.\n\n\n MESODE\n\n But grant him good success,\n O Thou who dost within the great cave dwell!\n With upward glance of joy our chief's house bless,\n And that he too, full well,\n Freely and brightly with the dear, loved eyes,\n May look from out the veil of cloudy skies.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And then may Maia's son\n Assist him, as is meet, in this his task!\n Through Him success is won,\n The boon that now we ask:\n And many secret things will He make clear,\n If that should be His will;\n But should He choose the truth should not appear,\n Before men's eyes He still\n Brings darkness and the blackness of the night,\n Nor is He clearer in the day's full light.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n And then will we pour forth\n All that our house contains of costliest worth,\n Past evil to redeem,\n And through the city we will raise the strain\n Shrill-voiced of women's chant yet once again.\n All this as good I deem;\n This, this my gain increaseth more and more,\n And far from those I love is sorrow's bitter stour.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n But thou, take courage when the time is come,\n The time to act indeed,\n And when she calls thee \u201cchild,\u201d do thou strike home,\n And let thy father's name for vengeance plead;\n Do thy dread taskwork to the uttermost.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n Let Perseus' heart within thy bosom dwell,\n For thou dost work for each dear kindred ghost,\n And those on high, a bitter boon and fell,\n Completing there within\n The deed of blood and sin,\n And utterly destroying him whose hand\n That crime of murder planned.\n\n\n\n\n EUMENIDES\n\n\n VERSES 297-374\n\n Come then, and let us dance in solemn strain;\n It is our will to chant our harsh refrain,\n And tell how this our band\n Works among men the tasks we take in hand.\n In righteous vengeance find we full delight;\n On him who putteth forth clean hands and pure\n No wrath from us doth light;\n Unhurt shall he through all his life endure;\n But whoso, as this man, hath evil wrought,\n And hides hands stained with blood,\n On him we come, with power prevailing fraught,\n True witnesses and good,\n For those whom he has slain, and bent to win\n Full forfeit-price for that his deed of sin.\n\n\n STROPHE I\n\n O Mother, Mother Night!\n Who did'st bear me a penalty and curse\n To those who see and those who see not light,\n Hear thou; for Leto's son, in mood perverse,\n Puts me to foulest shame,\n In that he robs me of my trembling prey,\n The victim whom we claim,\n That we his mother's blood may wash away;\n And over him as slain\n Sing we this dolorous, frenzied, maddening strain,\n The song that we, the Erinnyes, love so well,\n That binds the soul as with enchanter's spell,\n Without one note from out the sweet-voiced lyre,\n Withering the strength of men as with a blast of fire.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n For this our task hath Fate\n Spun without fail to last for ever sure,\n That we on man weighed down with deeds of hate\n Should follow till the earth his life immure.\n Nor when he dies can he\n Boast of being truly free;\n And over him as slain\n Sing we this dolorous, frenzied, maddening strain,\n The song that we, the Erinnyes, love so well,\n That binds the soul as with enchanter's spell,\n Without one note from out the sweet-voiced lyre,\n Withering the strength of men as with a blast of fire.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Yea, at our birth this lot to us was given,\n And from the immortal Ones who dwell in Heaven\n We still must hold aloof;\n None sits with us at banquets of delight,\n Or shares a common roof,\n Nor part nor lot have I in garments white;\n My choice was made a race to overthrow,\n When murder, home-reared, lays a loved one low;\n Strong though he be, upon his track we tread,\n And drain his blood till all his strength is fled.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n Yea, 'tis our work to set another free\n From tasks like this, and by my service due\n To give the Gods their perfect liberty,\n Relieved from task of meting judgment true;\n For this our tribe from out his fellowship\n Zeus hath cast out as worthy of all hate,\n And from our limbs the purple blood-drops drip;\n So with a mighty leap and grievous weight\n My foot I bring upon my quivering prey,\n With power to make the swift and strong give way,\n An evil and intolerable fate.\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n And all the glory and the pride of men,\n Though high exalted in the light of day,\n Wither and fade away,\n Of little honour then,\n When in the darkness of the grave they stay,\n By our attack brought low,\n The loath\u00e8d dance through which in raiment black we go:\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n And through the ill that leaves him dazed and blind,\n He still is all unconscious that he falls,\n So thick a cloud enthrals\n The vision of his mind:\n And Rumour with a voice of wailing calls,\n And tells of gathering gloom\n That doth the ancient halls in darkness thick entomb.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n So it abideth still;\n Ready and prompt are we to work our will,\n The dreaded Ones who bring\n The dire remembrance of each deed of ill,\n Whom mortals may not soothe with offering,\n Working a task with little honour fraught,\n Yea, all dishonoured, task the Gods detest,\n In sunless midnight wrought,\n By which alike are pressed\n Those who yet live, and those who lie in gloom unblest.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n What mortal man then will not crouch in fear,\n As he my work shall hear,\n The task to me by destiny from Heaven\n As from the high Gods given?\n Yea, a time-honoured lot is mine I trow,\n No shame in it I see,\n Though deep beneath the earth my station be,\n In gloom that never feels the sunlight's quickening glow.\n\n\n VERSES 468-537\n\n STROPHE I\n\n Now is there utter fall and overthrow,\n Which new-made laws begin;\n If he who struck the matricidal blow,\n His right\u2014not so, his utter wrong shall win,\n This baseness will the minds of all men lead\n To wanton, reckless thought,\n And now for parents waits there woe, and deed\n Of parricidal guilt by children wrought.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE I\n\n For then no more shall wrath from this our band,\n The M\u00e6nad troop that watch the deeds of men,\n Come for these crimes; but lo! on either hand\n I will let slip all evil fate, and then,\n Telling his neighbours' grief,\n Shall this man seek from that, and seek in vain,\n Remission and relief,\n Nor is there any certain cure for pain.\n And lo! the wretched man all fruitlessly\n For grace and help shall cry.\n\n\n STROPHE II\n\n Henceforth let no man in his anguish call,\n When he sore-smitten by ill-chance shall fall,\n Uttering with groan and moan,\n \u201cO mighty Justice, O Erinnyes' throne!\u201d\n So may a father or a mother wail,\n Struck by new woe, and tell their sorrow's tale;\n For low on earth doth lie\n The home where Justice once her dwelling had on high.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE II\n\n Yea, there are times when reverent Awe should stay\n As guardian of the soul;\n It profits much to learn through suffering\n The bliss of self-control.\n Who that within the heart's full daylight bears\n No touch of holy awe,\n Be it or man or State that casts out fear,\n Will still own reverence for the might of law?\n\n\n STROPHE III\n\n Nor life that will no sovran rule obey,\n Nor one down-crushed beneath a despot's sway,\n Shalt thou approve;\n God still gives power and strength for victory\n To all that in the golden mean doth lie.\n All else, as they in diverse order move,\n He scans with watchful eye.\n With this I speak a word in harmony,\n That of irreverence still\n Outrage is offspring ill,\n While from the soul's true health\n Comes the much-loved, much-prayed-for joy and wealth.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE III\n\n Yes, this I bid thee know;\n Bow thou before the altar of the Right,\n And let no wandering glance\n That looks at gain askance\n Lead thee with godless foot to scorn or slight.\n Know well the appointed penalty shall come;\n The doom remaineth sure and will at last strike home.\n Wherefore let each man pay the reverence due\n To those who call him son;\n By each to thronging guests let honour true\n In loyal faith be done.\n\n\n STROPHE IV\n\n But one who with no pressure of constraint\n Of his free will draws back from evil taint,\n He shall not be unblest,\n Nor ever sink by utter woe oppressed.\n But this I still aver,\n That he whose daring leads him to transgress,\n The chaos wild of evil deeds to stir,\n In sharp and sore distress,\n Against his will will slacken sail ere long,\n When, as his timbers crash before the blast,\n He feels the tempest strong.\n\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV\n\n Then in the midst of peril he at last\n Shall call on those who then will hear him not.\n Yea, God still laughs to scorn\n The man by evil tide of passions borne,\n Swayed by thoughts wild and hot,\n When he beholdeth one whose boast was high\n He ne'er should know it, sunk in misery,\n And all unable round the point to steer;\n And so his former pride of prosperous days\n He wrecks upon the reefs of Vengeance drear,\n And dies with none to weep him or to praise.\n\n\n\n\n THE END\n\n\n\n\n TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES\n\n\n 1. Added missing target for footnote on p. 17.\n 2. Silently corrected typographical errors.\n 3. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.\n 4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.","title":"\u00c6schylos Tragedies and Fragments","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":103809}