{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_59225/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_59225","id":"gutenberg_59225","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/59225","summary":null,"tags":["Aeschylus -- Translations into English","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","Mythology, Greek -- Drama"],"text":"David Thomas\n\n\n\n\n\n The LYRICAL\n DRAMAS of\n \u00c6SCHYLUS\n\n Translated into\n ENGLISH VERSE\n by\n JOHN STUART BLACKIE\n\n WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY\n ERNEST RHYS\n\n\n LONDON: PUBLISHED\n by J.M. DENT & CO\n AND IN NEW YORK\n BY EP DUTTON & CO\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTES\n\nThe original text included Greek characters that were not supported by\nUnicode at the time of this ebook's creation. In these cases I used the\nnearest available character and surrounded it with parentheses. A full\nlisting, along with descriptions of the proper characters, can be found\nat the end of the book in the section titled Greek Textual Notes.\n\nFootnotes have been relocated to the end of the book. Footnotes and\n(end)notes are labeled with an \"f\" and \"n\", respectively.\n\nText alterations: some spelling and punctuation corrections, change some\nof the plays' formatting, and remove obsolete references to \"vol. I\"\nand \"vol. II\", which were leftover from the 1850 two-volume version of\nthis work.\n\n\n\nEDITOR'S NOTE\n\nPROFESSOR JOHN STUART BLACKIE [1809-1895], in his day fondly called\n\"Scotland's greatest Greek scholar,\" began his translation of \u00c6schylus\nwhen he was still comparatively a young man, in 1837-8, and he did not\ncomplete it, working intermittently, until 1846. Even then, there was a\nprocess of revision and correction to be gone through, which carried on\nthe work by a further term of three or four years.\n\nThe translation had occupied twelve years, says Miss Stoddart, in her\nbiography (1895), but only the first three and the last three of those\nyears were specially devoted to the work. Carlyle interested himself in\nfinding a London publisher for the translation, and he characteristically\nmingled his praise of it with blame. He spoke of it indeed as \"spirited\nand lively to a high degree,\" and added, \"the grimmer my protest against\nyour having gone into song at all with the business.\" It was Professor\nAytoun who suggested the rhymed choruses. Leigh Hunt wrote to Blackie,\napproving where Carlyle had demurred. He said: \"Your version is right\nmasculine and \u00c6schylean, strong, musical, conscious of the atmosphere of\nmystery and terror which it breathes in;\" and he especially admired the\npoetic interpretation given \"to the lyrical nature of these fine\nCassandra-voiced ringing old dramas.\"\n\nThe following is a list of the chief English translators of \u00c6schylus:--\n\nThe Tragedies translated into English Verse; R. Potter, 1777, 1779.\n\nThe Seven Tragedies literally translated into English Prose, from the\nText of Blomfield and Sch\u00fctz, 1822, 1827.\n\nLiteral translation by T. A. Buckley, 1849.\n\nThe Lyrical Dramas . . . into English Verse, J. S. Blackie, 1850; into\nEnglish Prose, F. A. Paley, 1864, 1891; E. H. Plumptre, 1868, 1873; Anna\nSwanwick, 1873; from a revised text, W. Headlam, 1900, etc.\n\nThe Seven Plays in English Verse; L. Campbell, 1890.\n\nThe Agamemnon was translated by Dean Milman, 1865; and \"transcribed\"\nby Robert Browning, 1877. A. W. Verrall's edition of the text, with\ncommentary and translation, appeared in 1889.\n\nThe most important of the earlier editions of the text was that by\nStanley; of the more recent, that by Sch\u00fctz, Wellauer, and Hermann.\n\n\n\n CONTENTS\n\n Preface\n   Footnotes\n On the Genius and Character of the Greek Tragedy\n   Footnotes\n The Life of \u00c6schylus\n   Footnotes\n\n AGAMEMNON\n   Introductory Remarks\n   Footnotes\n   Notes\n CHOEPHOR\u00c6\n   Introductory Remarks\n   Footnotes\n   Notes\n THE EUMENIDES\n   Introductory Remarks\n   Footnotes\n   Notes\n PROMETHEUS BOUND\n   Introductory Remarks\n   Footnotes\n   Notes\n THE SUPPLIANTS\n   Introductory Remarks\n   Footnotes\n   Notes\n THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES\n   Introductory Remarks\n   Footnotes\n   Notes\n THE PERSIANS\n   Introductory Remarks\n   Footnotes\n   Notes\n\n List of Editions, etc.\n Footnotes (Complete)\n Notes (Complete)\n Greek Textual Notes\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n{1}\n\nTHE poet who publishes an original work, or the painter who exhibits the\nproduct of his own brush, does well, in the general case, to spare\nhimself the trouble of any sort of introductory exposition or\nexplanation; for the public are apt to look upon all such preambles as a\nsort of forestalling of their own critical rights: besides that a good\nwork of art contains within itself all that is necessary to unfold its\nown story to an intelligent spectator. A translator, however, is\ndifferently situated. In interposing himself between the original author\nand the public, he occupies the position of an optical artist, who, when\nhe presents to the infirm human eye the instrument that is to enable it\nto scan the path of the stars, is bound, not merely to guarantee the\nbeauty, but to explain to the intelligent spectator the principle, and\nto make intelligible the reality of the spectacle. Or, as all similes\nlimp, we may say that a translator stands to the public in the position\nof the old Colchian sorceress, who having cut a live body in pieces, and\nsubmitted it to a new fermentation in a magic pot, engaged to produce it\nagain re-invigorated in all its completeness. The spectators of such a\nprocess have a right to know, not only that something--it may be a very\nbeautiful and a very attractive thing--has come out of the cauldron, but\nalso that the identical thing put in has come out without transmutation\nor transformation. And if there has been transmutation or transformation\nto any extent, they are entitled to know how far.\n\nNow, with regard to poetical translation, I honestly confess that I\nconsider the reproduction, according to the German idea of a FACSIMILE\nin all respects corresponding to the original, an impossible problem. In\nthe alembic of the translator's mind it is not merely that the original\nelements of the organic whole, being disintegrated, are to be restored,\nbut the elements out of which the restoration is to be made, are\naltogether different; as if a man should be required to make a\ncounterpart to a silk vesture with cotton twist, or to copy a glowing\nVenus of Titian in chalk. The reproduction, in such a case, can never be\nperfect; the copy may be something like--very like--the original, but it\nis not the same; it may be better in some points, and in some points\nworse. Just so in language. It is impossible sometimes to translate from\none language into another. {2} Greek, for instance, is a language so\nredundant with rich efflorescence, so tumid with luxuriant growth and\novergrowth of all kinds, that our temperate language, unless it allow\nitself to run into sheer madness, must often refuse to follow it. Like a\npractised posture-maker or expert ballet-dancer, the old Hellenic\ndialect can caper gracefully through movements that, if attempted, would\ntwist our English tongue into distortion or dislocation. \u00c6schylus, in\nparticular, was famous, even amongst the Greeks, for the fearless,\nmasculine licence with which he handled the most flexible of all\nlanguages. This licence I profess to follow only where I can do so\nintelligibly and gracefully. The reader must not expect to find, in the\nguise of the English language, an image of \u00c6schylus in every minute\nverbal feature, such as its gigantic outline has been sketched by\nAristophanes.\n\nSome men of literary note, in the present day, observing the great\ndifficulties with which poetical translators have to contend, especially\nwhen using a language of inferior compass, have been of opinion that the\ntask ought not to be attempted at all--that all poetical translations,\nfrom Greek at least into English, should be done in prose; and, in\nconfirmation of this opinion, they point to the English translation of\nthe Hebrew Bible as a model. But if, as Southey says, \"a translation is\ngood precisely as it faithfully represents the matter, manner, and\nspirit of the original,\"[f1] it is difficult to see how this\ndoctrine can be entertained. Poetry is distinguished from prose more by\nthe manner than by the matter; and rhythmical regularity or verse is\nprecisely that quality which distinguishes the manner of poetry from\nthat of prose. In one sense, and in the best sense, Plato and Richter\nand Jeremy Taylor are poets; in another sense, and in the best sense,\n\u00c6schylus and Dante and Shakespere are philosophers; but that which a\npoet as a poet has, and a philosopher as a philosopher has not, is\nverse; and this element the advocates of a prose translation of poetical\nworks are content to miss out! That the argument from the English\ntranslation of the Bible is not applicable to every case, will appear\nplain to any one who will figure to himself Robert Burns or Horace or\nBeranger in a prose dress. In the Bible we seek for the simplicity of\nreligious inculcation or devout meditation, and would consider the\nfinest rhythmical decorations out of place. Besides, the style of the\nHebrew poetry is eminently simple; and the rhythmical element of\nlanguage, so far as I can learn, was never highly cultivated by the\nJews, whose mission on earth was of a different kind. The Greeks, on the\nother hand, were eminently a poetical people; the poetry of their drama,\nthough not without its {3} own simplicity, is, in respect of mere\nlinguistic organism, of a highly decorated order; and by nothing is that\ndecoration so marked as by a systematic attention to rhythm. I consider,\ntherefore, that prose translations of the Greek dramatists will never\nsatisfy the just demands of a cultivated taste, for the plain reason\nthat they omit that element which is most characteristic of the manner\nof the original.\n\nI am persuaded that the demand for prose translations of poets had\narisen, in this country, more from a sort of desperate reaction against\ncertain vicious principles of the old English school of translation,\nthan from a serious consideration either of the nature of the thing, or\nof the capacity of our noble language. In Germany, I do not find that\nthis notion has ever been entertained; plainly because the German\npoetical translations did not err, like our English ones, in conspiring,\nby every sort of fine flourishing and delicate furbishment, to obscure\nor to blot out what was most characteristic in their originals. The\nproper problem of an English translator is not _how to say a thing as\nthe author would have said it, had he been an Englishman_; but _how,\nthrough the medium of the English language, to make the English reader\nfeel both what he said and how he said it, being a Greek_. Now, any one\nwho is familiar with the general run of English rhythmical translations,\nof which Pope's Iliad is the pattern, must be aware that they have too\noften been executed under the influence of the former of these\nprinciples rather than the latter. In Pope's Homer, and in Sotheby's\nalso, I must add, we find many, perhaps all the finest passages very\nfinely done; but so as Pope or Sotheby might have done themselves in an\noriginal poem written at the present day, while that which is most\npeculiarly Homeric, a certain blunt naturalness and a talkative\nsimplicity, we do not find in these translators at all. The very things\nwhich most strike the eye of the accomplished connoisseur, and feed the\nmeditations of the student of human nature, are omitted.\n\nNow, I at once admit that a good prose translation--that is to say, a\nprose translation done by a poet or a man of poetical culture--of such\nan author as Homer, is preferable, for many purposes, to a poetical\ntranslation so elegantly defaced as that of Pope. A prose translation,\nalso, of any poet, done accurately in a prosaic style by a proser,\nhowever much of a parody or a caricature in point of taste, may not be\nwithout its use, if in no other way, as a ready check on the free\nlicence of omission or inoculation which rhythmical translators are so\nfond to usurp. But it is a mistake to suppose, because Pope, under the\ninfluence of Louis XIV. and Queen Anne, could not {4} write a good\npoetical translation of Homer, that therefore such a work is beyond the\ncompass of the English language.[f2] I believe that, if Alfred\nTennyson were to give the world a translation of the Iliad in the\nmeasure of _Locksley Hall_, he would cut Pope out of the market of the\nmillion, even at this eleventh hour. We are, in the present epoch of our\nliterary history, arrived at a very favourable moment for producing good\ntranslations. A band of highly-original and richly-furnished minds has\njust left the stage, leaving us the legacy of a poetical language which,\nunder their hand, received a degree of rhythmical culture, of which it\nhad been before considered incapable. The example of the Germans, also,\nnow no longer confined to the knowledge of a few, stands forth to show\nus how excellent poetical translations may be made, free, at least, from\nthose faults from which we have suffered. There is no reason why we\nshould despair of producing poetical versions of the Classics which\nshall be at once graceful as English compositions, and characteristic as\nproductions of the Greek or Roman mind. I, for one, have already passed\nthis judgment on my own attempt, that if I have failed in these pages to\nbring out what is Greek and what is \u00c6schylean prominently, in\ncombination with force, grace, and clearness of English expression, it\nis for lack of skill in the workman, not for want of edge in the tool.\n\nThe next question that calls for answer is: it being admitted that a\nrhythmical translation of a Greek poem is preferable to a prose one,\nshould we content ourselves with a blank rhythm (such as Shelley has\nused in Queen Mab, and Southey in Thalaba), or should we adopt also the\nsonorous ornament of rhyme. On this subject, when I first commenced this\ntranslation, about twelve years ago, I confess my feelings were strongly\nagainst the use of rhyme in translations from the antique; but\nexperience and reflection have taught me considerably to modify, and, in\nsome points of view, altogether to abandon this opinion. With regard to\nthis matter, SOUTHEY has expressed himself thus:--\"Rhyme is to\npassages of no inherent merit what rouge and candle-light are to\nordinary faces. Merely ornamental passages, also, are aided by it, as\nfoil sets off paste. But when there is either passion or power, the\nplainer and more straightforward the language can be made, the\nbetter.\"[f3] This is the lowest ground on which the plea for rhyme\ncan be put; but even thus, it will be impossible for a discriminating\ntranslator to ward off its application to the Greek tragedy. In all\npoetry written for music, there will {5} occur, even from the best\npoets, not a few passages on which the mere reader will pronounce, in\nthe language of Horace, that they are comparatively\n\n  \"Inopes rerum nugaeque canorae.\"\n\nTo these, rhyme is indispensable. Without this, these \"trifles\" will\nlose that which alone rendered them tolerable to the ancient ear; they\nwill cease to be \"canorous.\" One must consider at what a disadvantage an\nancient composer of \"a goat-song\" is placed, when the studiously\nmodulated phrase which he adapted to the cheerful chirpings of the lyre,\nor the tumultuous blasts of the flute, is torn away from that\nmusic-watered soil which was its life, and placed dry and bloodless on\nthe desk of a modern reader, beside the thought-pregnant periods of a\nColeridge, and the curiously-elaborated stanzas of a Wordsworth. Are we\nto make him even more blank and disconsolate, by refusing him those\ntuneful closes of modern rhythmical language, which scarcely our\nsternest masters of the lyre can afford to disdain? It appears to me\nthat rhyme is so essential an accomplishment of lyrical language,\naccording to English use, that a translator is not doing justice to his\nauthor who habitually rejects it. I have accordingly adopted it more or\nless in every play, except the PROMETHEUS, the calm statuesque\nmassiveness of which seemed to render the common decorations of lyric\npoetry dispensable. In the SEVEN AGAINST THEBES, I have, in the first\ntwo choral chaunts, rhymed only in the closes; and in the opening chorus\nof the Agamemnon, I have used irregular rhyme. In the FURIES, again,\nI have allowed myself to be borne along in the most free and luxuriant\nstyle of double rhyme of which I was capable, partly, I suppose, because\nmy admiration of that piece stimulated all my energies to their highest\npitch; partly, because, there being no question that the lyric metre of\nthe tragedians exhibits the full power of their language, the translator\nis not doing justice to the work who does not endeavour, as far as may\nbe, to bring out the full power of his. The fact of the matter is, the\ntranslator's art is always more or less of the nature of a compromise.\nIf the indulgence of a luxuriant freedom is apt to trench on accuracy,\nthe observance of a strict verbal accuracy is ill compatible with that\ngrace and elasticity of movement without which poetry has no existence.\nIn the present translation, I have been willing to try several styles,\nif not to suit the humour of different readers, (which, however, were\nanything but an illegitimate object), at least to satisfy myself what\ncould be done.\n\nI shall now say a word on the principles which I have adopted with\nregard to the representation of the various Greek metres by {6}\ncorresponding varieties of English verse. I say _corresponding_ or\n_analogous_ emphatically; for, whatever apish tricks the Germans may\nhave taught their pliant tongue to play, the conservative English ear,\n\"peculiarly intolerant of metrical innovations,\"[f4] will not allow\nitself to be seduced--whether by the arguments of Southey, or the\nexample of Longfellow--from the familiar harmonies of our old Saxon\nmeasures. Nor, indeed, is this stiffness of native metrical habit, a\ncircumstance at all to be regretted. Every language has its own\nmeasures, which are natural and easy to it, as every man has his own way\nof walking, which he cannot forego for another, without affectation. I\ndo not think Goethe's Reineke Fuchs a whit the better, but rather the\nworse, for being written in the measure of the Odyssey; and the\nartificial choral versification of Humboldt, Franz, Schoemann, and\nM\u00fcller, in their translations from \u00c6schylus, is, to my ear, mere\nmetrical monstrosity, which would read much better if it were broken\ndown into plain prose.[f5] I have, therefore, not attempted anything\nof this kind in my translation, except accidentally; that is to say,\nwhen the Greek measure happened to be at the same time an English\nmeasure, as in the case of the Trochaic Tetrameter, of which the reader\nwill find examples in the conclusion of the AGAMEMNON, and in various\nparts of the PERSIANS. This measure, as Aristotle informs us,[f6]\nis a remnant of the old energetic triple time to which the sportive\nBacchic chorus originally danced; and, as it seems to be used by the\ntragedians in passages where peculiar energy or elevation is\nintended,[f7] I do not think the translator is at liberty to\nconfound it in his version with the common dialogue. With regard to the\nIambic dialogue itself, there can be no question that our heroic blank\nverse of ten syllables, both in point of character and compass, is the\nnatural and adequate representative of the Greek trimeter of\ntwelve.[f8] The Anap\u00e6stic verse occasions more difficulty. The {7}\nproper nature of this measure, as corresponding to our modern\n_march-time_ in music, has been pointed out by M\u00fcller;[f9] and in\nconformity with his views, I have, in my translation, accurately marked\nthe distinction, in the AGAMEMNON, the SUPPLIANTS, and the\nPERSIANS, between the Anap\u00e6stic verses sung by the Chorus to\nmarch-time, when entering the Orchestra, and the regular odes or hymns\nsung after they were arrived at their proper destination round the\nThymele. But how are we to render this verse in English? Our own\nAnap\u00e6stic verse, though the same when counted by the fingers, has, if I\nmistake not, a light, ambling, unsteady air about it, which is quite the\nreverse of the weighty character of the \"equal rhythm,\" as the ancients\ncalled both it and its counterpart the Dactylic.[f10] I have,\ntherefore, thought myself safer in using, for this measure, the Trochaic\nverse of eight syllables, varied with occasional sevens and fives,\ngenerally without rhyme, in the AGAMEMNON with a few rhymes\nirregularly interspersed. In the Persians only I have made the\nexperiment, tried also by Connington in the Agamemnon, of rendering the\nGreek by the common English Anap\u00e6sts; the delicate-treading\n(\u1f01\u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03b2\u03ac\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9) sons of Susa not seeming to require the same\nweight and firmness of diction for their sad vaticinations, as the\nstout-hearted Titan for his words of haughty defiance, and the Herald of\nthe Thunderer for his threats.\n\nWith regard to the proper choral odes--the most difficult, and, in my\nview, the most important part of my task--I have allowed myself a\nlicence, which some may think too large, but which, if I were to do the\nwork over again, I scarcely think I should contract. In very few cases\nhave I given anything like a curious imitation of the original; and,\nwhen I have done so--as in the Trochaic Chaunt of the FURIES,\np. 157, and in the Cretics mingled with Trochees, in the short ode of\nthe SUPPLIANTS, p. 232[f11]--it was more to humour the whim\nof the moment than from any fixed principle. For, to speak truth,\nrhyming men will have their whim; and I do not think it politic or\njudicious to deprive the translator altogether of that rhythmical\nfreedom which is the great delight of the original composer. {8} But\nanother, and the principal reason with me for not attempting a\nsystematic imitation of the choral measures, was, that many of them\nfailed to produce, on my ear, an intelligible musical effect, which I\ncould set myself to reproduce; while, in other cases, though I clearly\nsaw the _rhythmical principle_ on which they were constructed (for I do\nnot speak of the blind jargon of inherited _metrical terminology_), I\nsaw with equal clearness _that in our English poetry written to be read,\nsystematic imitation of ancient metres written on musical principles,\nand with a view to musical exhibition, is, in the majority of cases,\naltogether absurd and impertinent_. I confined myself, therefore, to the\nselection of such English metres as to my ear seemed most dramatically\nto represent the feeling of the original, making a marked contrast\neverywhere between the rhythmical movement of joy and sorrow, and always\ndistinguishing carefully between what was piled up with a stable\ncontinuity of sublime emotion, and what was ejaculated in a hurried and\nbroken style, where the Dochmiac verse prevails.[f12]\n\nSo much for metres. With regard to the more strictly linguistic part of\nmy task, I have only to say that I thought it proper to assume\nWellauer's cautiously edited text as a safe general foundation, with the\nliberty, of course, to deviate from it whenever I saw distinct and\nclearly made out grounds. The other editions, old and new, which I have\nused are enumerated in an Appendix at the end of this book.\nThere also will be found those Commentaries and Translations which I\nhave consulted on all the difficult passages; my obligations to which\nare, of course, great, and are here gratefully acknowledged. I desire\nspecially to name, as having been of most service to me, LINWOOD,\nPEILE, and PALEY among the English; WELLAUER, WELCKER, M\u00dcLLER, and\nSCHOEMANN among the German scholars. My manner of proceeding with\nprevious English translations was to borrow from them an occasional\nphrase or hint, only after I had finished and carefully revised my\nown. But my obligations in respect of poetical diction to my\nfellow-labourers in the same field are very few, and are for the most\npart specially acknowledged.\n\nThe introductory remarks to each play are intended to supply the English\nreader with that particular mythological or historical knowledge, and to\ninspire him with those Hellenic views and feelings, {9} which are\nnecessary to the enjoyment of the different dramas. The appended notes\nproceed on the principle, generally understood in this country, though\napparently neglected in erudite Germany, that translations are made, not\nfor the learned mainly, but for the unlearned. I have, therefore, not\nassumed even the most common points of mythological and antiquarian\nlore. Some of the notes, especially those on moral and religious points,\nhave a higher view than mere explanation. They are intended to stir\nthose human feelings, and suggest those trains of moral reflection\nwithout which the most profound scholarship issues only in a\nmultitudinous cracking of empty nut-shells, and a ghastly exhibition of\ngilded bones. The few notes of a strictly hermeneutical character that\nare mingled with these, are mere jottings to preserve for my own use,\nand that of my fellow-students of the Greek text, the grounds of\ndecision which have moved me in some of the more difficult passages,\nwhere I have either departed from Wellauer's text, or where something\nappeared to lie in the various renderings fraught with a more than\ncommon poetical significance. In the general case, however, the\ntranslation must serve as its own commentary; and, though I do not\npretend to have read every thing that has been written on the disputed\npassages of this most difficult, and, in many places, sadly corrupt\nauthor, I hope there is evidence enough in every page of my work to show\nthat I have conscientiously grappled with all real difficulties in any\nway affecting the meaning of the text, and not leapt to a conclusion\nmerely because it was the most obvious and most convenient one. If here\nand there I have made a rapid dash, a headlong plunge, or a bold sweep,\nbeyond the rules of a strict philology, it was because these were the\nonly tactics that the desperation of the case allowed.[f13]\n\nIn conclusion, I am glad to take this opportunity of publicly returning\nmy thanks to two gentlemen of well-known literary taste and discernment,\nwho took the trouble to read my sheets as they went through the press,\nand favour me with their valuable suggestions.\n\n\n\nON THE GENIUS AND CHARACTER OF THE GREEK TRAGEDY\n\n{10}\n\n\"In der Beurtheilung des Hellenischen Alterthums soll der Scharfsinnige\nnicht aus sich herauszuspinnen suchen, was nur aus der Verbindung\nmannichfacher Ueberlieferungen gewonnen werden kann.\"--B\u00d6CKH.\n\nTHE reader will have observed that the word TRAGEDY, which is\ngenerally associated with the works of \u00c6schylus, does not occur either\nin the general title-page of this translation, or in the special\nsuperscriptions of the separate pieces; in the one place the designation\n\"LYRICAL DRAMAS\" being substituted, and in the other \"LYRICO-DRAMATIC\nSPECTACLE.\" This change of the common title, by which these productions\nare known in the book-world, was not made from mere affectation, or the\ndesire of singularity, but from the serious consideration that \"the\nworld is governed by names,\" and that the word \"tragedy\" cannot be used\nin reference to a serious lyrico-dramatic exhibition on the ancient\nGreek stage, without importing a host of modern associations that will\nrender all healthy sympathy with the \u00c6schylean drama, and all sound\ncriticism, extremely difficult. Names, indeed, are a principal part of\nthe hereditary machinery with which the evil Spirit of Error in the\nregion of thought, as well as in that of action, juggles the plain\nunderstandings of men that they become the sport of every quibble, and\nbelieve a lie. By means of names the plastic soul of man contrives at\nfirst, often crudely enough, to express some part of a great truth, and\nmake it publicly recognised; but when, in the course of natural growth\nand progress the thing has been altered, while the word, transmitted\nfrom age to age, and itinerant from East to West, remains; then the\nvocal sign performs its natural functions as a signifier of thought no\nlonger, but is as a mask, which either tells a complete lie, or looks\nwith the one-half of its face a meaning which the other half (seen only\nby the learned) is sure to contradict. I have, therefore, thought it\nconvenient to do away with this cause of misunderstanding in the\nthreshold: and the purpose of the few remarks that follow is to make\nplain to the understanding of the most unlearned the reason of the\nterminology which I have adopted, and guard him yet more fully against\nthe misconceptions which are {11} sure to arise from suffering his\nchamber of thought to be preoccupied by the echoes of a false\nnomenclature.\n\nIf the modern spectator of a tragedy of Shakespere or Sheridan Knowles\ncomes from the vivid embodiments of a Faucit or a Macready, to the\nperusal of what are called the \"tragedies of \u00c6schylus,\" and applies the\nsubtle rules of representative art there exemplified, to the extant\nremains of the early Greek stage, though he will find some things\nstrikingly conceived and grandly expressed, and a general tone of poetic\nelevation, removed alike from what is trivial, and what is morbid; yet\nhe must certainly be strangely blinded by early classical\nprepossessions, if he fails to feel that, as a whole, a Greek tragedy,\nwhen set against the English composition of the same name, is\nexceedingly narrow in its conception, meagre in its furniture,\nmonotonous in its character, unskilful in its execution, and not seldom\nfeeble in its effort. No doubt a generous mind will be disposed to look\nwith a kindly and even a reverent sympathy on the inferiority of the\ninfant fathers of that most difficult of all the poetic arts, which has\nnow, in this late age of the world, under the manly British training,\nexhibited such sturdiness of trunk, such kingliness of stature, and such\nmagnificence of foliage; it may be also, that the novelty and the\nstrangeness of some things in the Greek tragedy--to those at least who\nhave not had their appetite palled by early Academic appliances--may\nafford a pleasant compensation for what must appear its glaring\nimproprieties as falling under the category of a known genus of poetic\nart; still, to the impartial and experienced frequenter of a first-rate\nmodern theatre, the first effect of an acquaintance with the old Greek\ntragedy is apt to be disappointment. He will wonder what there is in\nthese productions so very remarkable that the select youth of Great\nBritain should, next to their mother's milk, be made to suck in them,\nand and them only, as the great intellectual nutriment of the\nfresh-fledged soul, till, in the regular course of things, they are fit\nto be fed on Church and State controversies and Parliamentary reports,\nand other diet not always of the lightest digestion; and he will be apt\nto imagine that in this, as in other cases, an over-great reverence for\nantiquity has made sensible men bow the knee to idols--that learned\nprofessors, like other persons, have their hobby-horses, which they are\nfond of over-riding--and that no sane man should believe more than the\nhalf of what is said by a professional trumpeter. All this will be very\nright in the circumstances, and very true so far. But the frequenter of\nthe modern theatre must consider farther--if he wishes to be\njust--whether he be not violating one of {12} the great proprieties of\nnature, in rushing at once from the narrow confined gas-lighted boxes of\na modern theatre into the large sweeping sun-beshone tiers of an ancient\none. No man goes from a ball-room into a church without a certain decent\ninterval, and, if possible, a few moments of becoming preparation. So it\nis with literary excursions. We must be acclimatized in the new country\nbefore we can feel comfortable. We must not merely deliver our criticism\nthus (however common such a style may be)--_I expected to find that; I\nfind this; and I am disappointed;_ but we must ask the deeper and the\nonly valuable question--_What ought I to have expected to find, what\nshall I surely find of good, and beautiful, and true, if my eyes are\nopen, and my free glance pointed in the right direction?_ In short, if a\nman will enjoy and judge a Greek \"tragedy,\" he must seek to know not\nwhat it is in reference to the general idea of tragedy which he brings\nwith him from modern theatrical exhibitions, but what it was to the\nancient Greeks, sitting in the open air, on their wooden bench, or on\ntheir seat hewn from the native rock, with the merry Bacchic echoes in\ntheir ears, long before Aristotle laid down those nice rules of tragic\ncomposition which only Shakespere might dare to despise.\n\nLet us inquire, therefore, setting aside alike Shaksperian examples and\nAristotelian canons, what the \u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u1ff3\u03b4\u03af\u03b1, or \"tragedy,\" was to\nthe ancient Greeks. Nor have we far to seek. The name, when the modern\npaint is rubbed off, declares its own history; and we find that the main\nidea of the old word \u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u1ff3\u03b4\u03af\u03b1--as, by the way, the _only_ idea of\nthe modern word \u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03b4\u03b9[f1]--is A SONG. Of the second part of this\nword, we have preserved the root in our English words _ode_, _melody_,\n_monody_, _threnody_, and the other half of the word means _goat_;\nwhether that descriptive addition to the principal substantive came\nfrom the circumstance that the song was originally sung by persons\nhabited like goats,[f2] or from other circumstances connected with the\nworship of Dionysus, to whom this animal was sacred, is of no\nimportance for our present purpose. The main fact to which we have to\ndirect attention, is that the word _tragedy_, when analysed, bears\nupon its face, and in the living Greek tongue proclaims loudly to the\npresent hour, that the essential character of this species of\npoetry--when the name was originally given to it--was lyrical, and\n{13} not at all dramatic or tragic, in the modern sense of these\nwords. A drama, in modern language, means an action represented by\nacting persons; and a tragedy is such a represented action, having a\nsad issue; but neither of these elements belonged to the original\nGreek tragedy, as inherited from his rude predecessors by \u00c6schylus,\nnor (as we shall immediately show) do they form the prominent or\ncharacteristic part of that exhibition, as transmitted by him to his\nsuccessors. With regard to the origin of the Greek \"goat-song,\" and\nits condition previous to the age of \u00c6schylus, there is but one\nuncontradicted voice of tradition on the subject; the curious\ndiscussions and investigations of the learned affecting only certain\nminute points of detail in the progress, which have no interest for\nthe general student. That tradition is to the effect that the Greek\nlyrical drama, as we find it in the extant works of \u00c6schylus, arose\nout of the Dithyrambic hymns sung at the sacred festivals of the\nancient Hellenes in honour of their god Dionysus, or, as he is\nvulgarly called, Bacchus; hymns which were first extemporized under\nthe influence of the stimulating juice of the grape,[f3] and then sung\nby a regularly trained Chorus, under the direction of the famous\nMethymnean minstrel, Arion.[f4] The simplest form which such hymns,\nunder such conditions, could assume, was that of a circular dance by a\nband of choristers round the statue or the altar of the god in whose\nhonour the hymn was sung. This is not a matter peculiar to Greece, but\nto be found at all times, and all over the world, wherever there are\nmen who are not mere brutes. So in the description of the religious\npractices of the ancient Mexicans, our erudite poet SOUTHEY has the\nfollowing beautiful passage, picturing a sacred choral dance round the\naltar of sacrifice:--\n\n          Round the choral band\n  The circling nobles gay, with gorgeous plumes,\n  And gems which sparkled to the midnight fire,\n  Moved in the solemn dance; each in his hand,\n  In measured movements, lifts the feathery shield,\n  And shakes a rattling ball to measured sounds;\n  With quicker steps, the inferior chiefs without,\n  {14}\n  Equal in number, but in just array,\n  The spreading radii of the mystic wheel\n  Revolved; and outermost, the youths roll round,\n  In motions rapid as their quickened blood.\n\nNow, according to the general tradition of old Greek commentators and\nlexicographers, the Dithyramb or Bacchic Hymn was also called a\n_Circular Hymn_[f5] an expression which a celebrated Byzantine\nwriter has interpreted to mean \"_a hymn sung by a chorus standing in a\nring round the altar._\"[f6] It is, no doubt, true that the phrase\n\u03c7\u03bf\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03ba\u03cd\u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, or circular chorus, does not necessarily\nmean a chorus of this description; the term, as has been ingeniously\nobserved,[f7] like our own word _roundelay_, and the German\n_Rund-gesang_, being capable of an equally natural application to a hymn\ncomposed of parts, that run back to the point from which they started,\nand form, as it were, a circle of melody. But, whatever etymologists may\nmake of the word, the fact that there were hymns sung by the ancient\nGreeks in chorus round the altars of their gods is not denied; and\nseems, indeed, so natural and obvious, that we shall assume it as the\nfirst form of the \"goat-song,\" in which form it continued up to a period\nwhich it is impossible to define; the only certainty being that,\nwhereas, in olden times, it was composed of fifty men, it was afterwards\ndiminished to twelve or fifteen, and arranged in the form of a military\ncompany in regular rank and file.[f8] Such a chorus, therefore, was\nthe grand central trunk out of which the Attic tragedy branched and\nbloomed to such fair luxuriance of verbal melody. We shall now trace, if\nwe can, the natural steps of progress.\n\nLet us suppose that the Leader of a Chorus, trained to sing hymns in\nhonour of the gods, is going to make them sing publicly a hymn {15} in\nhonour of \u0396\u03b5\u03cd\u03c2 \u1f31\u03ba\u03ad\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2--Jove, in his benign character as the\nfriend of the friendless, and the protector of suppliants. Instead of a\nvague general supplication in the abstract style to which we are\naccustomed in our forms of prayer, what could be more natural than for a\nsusceptible and lively Greek to conceive the persons of the Chorus as\nengaged in some particular act of supplication, well known in the sacred\ntraditions of the people, whose worship he was leading, and to put words\nin their mouths suitable to such a situation? This done, we have at once\n_drama_, according to the etymological meaning of the word; that is to\nsay, a represented _action_. The Chorus represents certain persons, we\nshall say, the daughters of Danaus, fugitives from their native Libya,\narrived on the stranger coast of Argolis, and in the act of presenting\ntheir supplications to their great celestial protector. Such an\nexhibition, if we will not permit it to be called by the substantive\nname of _drama_, is, at all events, a dramatized hymn; an ode so\nessentially dramatic in its character, that it requires but the addition\nof a single person besides the Chorus to form a complete action; for an\naction, like a colloquy, is necessarily between two parties--meditation,\nnot action, being the natural business of a solitary man. Now, the\nsingle person whose presence is required to turn this dramatized hymn\ninto a proper lyrical drama is already given. The Leader of the Chorus,\nor the person to whom the singing band belonged, and who superintended\nits exhibitions, is such a person. He has only, in the case supposed, to\ntake upon himself the character of the person, the king of the Argives,\nto whom the supplication is made, to indicate, by word or gesture, the\nfeelings with which he receives their address, and finally to accept or\nreject their suit; this makes a complete action, and a lyrical drama\nalready exists in all essentials, exactly such as we read the skeleton\nof it at the present hour, in the SUPPLIANTS of \u00c6schylus. To go a\nstep beyond this, and add (as has been done in our play) another actor\nto represent the party pursuing the fugitives, is only to bring the\nsituation already existing to a more violent issue, and not essentially\nto alter the character of the exhibition. Much less will the mere\nappendage of a guide or director to the main body of the Chorus, in the\nshape of a father, brother, or other accessory character, change the\ngeneral effect of the spectacle. The great central mass which strikes\nthe eye, and fills ear and heart with its harmonious appeals, remains\nstill what it was, even before the leader of the band took a part in the\nlyric exhibition. The dramatized lyric, and the lyrical drama, differ\nfrom one another only according to the simile already used, as a tree\nwith two or three branches differs from a tree with a simple stem. {16}\nThe main body and stamina are the same in each. The SONG is the soul\nof both.\n\nThe academic student, who is familiar with these matters, is aware that\nwhat has been here constructed hypothetically, as a natural result of\nthe circumstances, is the real historical account of the origin and\nprogress of the Greek tragedy, as it is shortly given in a well-known\npassage of Diogenes Laertius. \"In the oldest times,\" says that\nbiographer of the philosophers, \"the Chorus alone went through the\ndramatic exhibition (\u03b4\u03b9\u03b5\u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03af\u03b6\u03b5\u03bd) in tragedy; afterwards\nThespis, to give rest to the Chorus, added one actor distinct from the\nsingers; then \u00c6schylus added a second, and Sophocles a third; which\ngave to tragedy its complete development.\"[f9] The reason mentioned\nhere for the addition of the first actor by Thespis, is a very probable\none. The convenience or ease of the singers contributed, along with the\nlively wit of the Greeks, and a due regard for the entertainment of the\nspectators, to raise the dramatized ode, step by step, into the lyrical\ndrama.\n\nIn the above account, two secondary circumstances connected with this\ntransition, have not been mentioned. The _first_ is, that the jocund and\nsometimes boisterous hymn, in honour of the wine-god, should have passed\ninto the lyrical representation of an action generally not at all\nconnected with the worship or history of that divinity; and, _secondly_,\nthat this action should have changed its tone from light to grave, from\njocular to sad, and become, in fact, what we, in the popular language of\nmodern times, call _tragic_. Now, for the first of these circumstances,\nI know nothing that can be said in the way of historical philosophy,\nexcept that man is fond of variety, that the Greek genius was fertile,\nand that accident often plays strange tricks with the usages and\ninstitutions of mortal men. For the other point, there can be no doubt\nthat the worship of the god of physical and animal joy, being violent in\nits character, had its ebb as well as its flow, its broad-gleaming\nsunshine not without the cloud, its wail as well as its rejoicing.\nWhether Dionysus meant the sun, or only wine, which is the produce of\nthe solar heat, or both, it is plain that his worshippers would have to\nlament his departure, at least as often as they hailed his advent; and,\nin this natural alternation, a foundation was laid for the separation of\nthe original Dithyrambic {17} Chorus into a wild, sportive element,\nrepresented by the Aristophanic comedy, and a deeply serious, meditative\nelement represented by tragedy. But we must beware, in reference to\n\u00c6schylus at least, of supposing that the lyrical drama, as exhibited by\nhim, however solemn and awe-inspiring, was necessarily sad, or, as we\nsay, tragic in its issue. Aristotle indeed, in his famous treatise, lays\ndown the doctrine that the main object of tragic composition is to\nexcite pity and terror, and that Euripides, \"though in other respects he\nmanages badly, is in this respect the most tragic of the tragedians,\nthat the most of his pieces end unfortunately.\"[f10] But there is\nnot the slightest reason, in the nature of things, why a solemn dramatic\nrepresentation, any more than a high-toned epical narrative, should end\nunfortunately. The Hindoo drama, for one, never does;[f11] and, in\nthe case of our poet, it is plain that the great trilogy, of which the\nOrestes is the middle piece, is constructed upon the principle of\nleading the sympathizing spectator through scenes of pity and terror, as\nstations in a journey, but finally to a goal of moral peace and\nharmonious reconciliation. That the great trilogy of the PROMETHEUS,\nof which only one part remains, had an equally fortunate termination, is\nnot to be doubted. Here, therefore, we see another impertinence in that\nmodern word _tragedy_, which, in the superscriptions of these plays, I\nhave been so careful to eschew.\n\nWe shall now examine one or two of the \u00c6schylean pieces by a simple\narithmetical process, and see how essentially the lyrical element\npredominates in their construction. Taking Wellauer's edition, and\nturning up the SUPPLIANTS, I find that that play, consisting\naltogether of 1055 lines, is opened by a continuous lyric strain of 172\nlines. Then we have dialogue, in part of which the Chorus uses lyric\nmeasures to the extent of 22 lines. Then follows a short choral song of\nonly 20 lines. The next Chorus comprises 76 lines, and the next 70.\nAfter this follows another dialogue, in which the Chorus, being in great\nmental agitation, use, according to the uniform practice of \u00c6schylus,\nlyric measures to the extent altogether of 20 verses. Then follows\nanother regular choral hymn of 47 lines. After that a violent lyrical\naltercation between the Chorus and a new actor, to the amount of 74\nlines, in the most impassioned lyrical rhythm. Then follow 14 lines of\nanap\u00e6sts; and the whole concludes with a grand lyrical finale of 65\nlines: altogether 580--considerably more than the half of the piece by\nbare arithmetic, and equal to two-thirds of it fully, if we consider how\nmuch more time the singing, with the musical accompaniments, must have\noccupied than the simple {18} declamation. No more distinct proof could\nbe required how essentially the account of Diogenes Laertius is right;\nhow true it is that the choral part of the \u00c6schylean drama is both its\nbody and its soul, while the dialogic part, to use the technical\nlanguage of Aristotle's days, was, in fact, only an \u1f10\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03cc\u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd (from\nwhich our English word _Episode_) or thing thrown in between the main\nchoral acts of the representation, for the sake of variety to the\nspectators, and, as the writer says, of rest to the singers. We thus\nsee, also, what an incorrect and indefinite idea of the \u00c6schylean drama\nAristotle had when he says--so far as we can gather his meaning--that\n\"\u00c6schylus first added a second actor; he also abridged the chorus, and\nmade the dialogue the principal part of tragedy.\"[f12] The last\narticle, so far as the play of the SUPPLIANTS is concerned, is simply\nnot true. Let us make trial of another play. The AGAMEMNON, which, for\nmany reasons, is one of the best for testing the mature genius of the\nbard, contains about 1600 lines; and, without troubling the reader with\ndetails, it will be found that about the half of this number is written\nin lyric measures. When we consider, further, that the most splendid\nimaginative pictures, and the wildest bursts of passion, all the\ninterest, the doubt, and the anxiety, the fear, the terror, the surprise,\nand the final issue, are, according to the practice of \u00c6schylus,\nregularly thrown into lyric measures, we shall be convinced that\nAristotle (if we rightly apprehend him) was altogether mistaken when he\nled the moderns to imagine that the father of tragedy had really given\nsuch a preponderance to the dialogic element, that the lyric part is to\nbe looked on, in his productions, as in any way subordinate. Unless it\nbe the PROMETHEUS, I do not know a single extant play of \u00c6schylus in\nwhich the lyric element occupies a position which, in actual\nrepresentation, would justify the dictum of the Stagyrite. And even in\nthis play, let it be observed, how grandly the poet makes his anap\u00e6sts\nswell and billow with sonorous thunder in the finale; as if to make\namends for the somewhat prolix epic recitals with which he had occupied\nthe spectator, and to prove that a Greek tragedy could never be true to\nitself, unless it left upon the ear, in its last echoes, the permanent\nimpression of its original character as a SONG.\n\nThree observations strike me, that may conveniently be stated as\ncorollaries from the above remarks. _First_, That those translators have\nerred who, whether from carelessness, or from ignorance, or from a\ndesire to accommodate the ancient tragedy as much as possible to the\nmodern, have given an undue predominance to blank {19} verse in their\nversions, making it appear as if the spoken part of the \u00c6schylean\ntragedy bore a much larger proportion, than it really does, to the sung.\n_Second_, Those critics have erred who, applying the principles of\nmodern theatrical criticism to the chaunted parts of the ancient lyrical\ndrama, have found many parts dull or wearisome, extravagant, and even\nridiculous, which, there can be no doubt, with their proper musical\naccompaniment, were the most impressive, and the most popular parts of\nthe representation. _Third_, We err altogether, when we judge of the\nexcellence of an ancient Greek drama as a composition, by its effect on\nus when reading it. The SUPPLIANTS, for instance, is generally\nconsidered a stupid play; because it wants grand contrasts of character\nand striking dramatic situations, and contains so much of mere\nreiterated supplication. But this reiteration, though wearisome to us\nwho read the text-book of the lost opera, was, in all probability, that\non which the ravished ears of the devout ancient auditors dwelt with\nmost voluptuous delight. In general, without re-creating some musical\naccompaniment, and dwelling with ear and heart on the frequent\nvariations of the lyric burden of the piece, a man is utterly incapable\nof passing any sane judgment on an \u00c6schylean drama. Such a piece may\ncontain in abundance everything that the auditors desired and enjoyed,\nand yet be very stupid now to us who merely read and criticise.\n\nThe fact of the matter is, that the marshalled band of singers, however\nsatisfactory to an ancient audience, who looked principally for musical\nexcitement in their tragedies, and not for an interesting plot, was not\nat all calculated for allowing a dramatic genius to bring out those\ntragic situations in which the modern reader delights; but rather stood\ndirectly in the way of such an effect. The fine development of character\nunder the influence of various delicate situations, and in collision\nwith different persons, all acting their part in some complex knot of\nvarious-coloured life, could not be exhibited in a performance where a\nband of singers on whom the eye of the spectators principally rested,\nand who formed the great attraction for the masses,[f13] constantly\noccupied the central ground, and constantly interfered with every thing\nthat was either said or done, whether it was convenient for them to do\nso or not. For a perfect tragedy, as conceived scientifically by\nAristotle, and executed with a grand practical instinct by Shakespere,\nthe Chorus was, in the very nature {20} of the thing, an incumbrance and\nan impediment. It was only very seldom that the persons of that body\ncould form such an important part of the action, and come forward with\nsuch a startling dramatic effect as in the Eumenides. Too often they\nwere obliged to hang round the action as an atmosphere, or look at it as\nspectators; spectators either impartial altogether, and then too wise\nfor dramatic sympathy, or half-partial, and then, by indecision of\nutterance, often making themselves ridiculous, as in a noted scene of\nthe Agamemnon (p. 81), or contemptible, as in the Antigone.[f14] The\nproper position of the Chorus in a regularly constructed drama, is,\nlike the witches in Macbeth, to form a mysterious musical background\n(not a _fore_-ground, as in the Greek tragedy), or to circle, as in\nthe opera of Masaniello, the principal character with a\nband of associates naturally situated to assist and cheer him on to his\ngrand enterprise. But the Greek Chorus, even in the time of Sophocles\nand Euripides, who enlarged the spoken part, was too independent, too\nstationary, too central a nucleus of the representation, not to impede\nthe movements of the acting persons who performed the principal parts.\nAs a form of art, therefore, the Greek tragedy, so soon as it attempted\nto assume the scientific ground so acutely seized on by the subtle\nanalysis of Aristotle, was necessarily clumsy and incongruous. The lyric\nelement, which was always the most popular element, refused to be\nincorporated with the acting element, and yet could not be altogether\ndisplaced; a position of scenic affairs which has strangely perplexed\nnot a few modern critics, looking for a dramatic plot with all the\ndramatic proprieties in a composition where the old Hellenic spectator\nonly felt a hymn to Jove; and curiously tasking their wits to find\nexcuses for a poet like Euripides, who, with blossoming lyrics and\nsonorous rhetoric, might gain the prize of the \"goat-song,\" even over\nthe head of a Sophocles, and yet, in point of dramatic propriety, as we\ndemand it in our modern plays, be constantly perpetrating enormities\nwhich a clever schoolboy at Westminster or Eton might avoid.[f15]\n\n{21}\n\nSo much for the artistic form of the \u00c6schylean drama. As for the\nmatter, it was essentially a combination of mythological, legendary, and\ndevotional elements, such as naturally belonged to a people whose\nreligion was intimately blended with every passion of the human heart,\nand every chance of human life, and whose gods were only a sort of\nglorified men, as their men sometimes were nothing less than mortal\ngods. The Greek lyrical dramas were part of the great public exhibitions\nat the great feasts of Bacchus, which took place, some in the winter\nseason, and some in the spring of the year;[f16] and in this respect\nthey bear a striking resemblance both to the Hindoo dramas (for which\nsee WILSON), to the so-called mysteries and moralities of medi\u00e6val\npiety, and to the sacred dramas of Metastasio, exhibited to the court at\nVienna. And what sort of an aspect does ancient polytheistic piety\npresent, what sort of an attitude does it maintain, in these\ncompositions? An aspect surprisingly fair, considering what motley\nconfusion it sprang from, an attitude singularly noble, seeing how\nnearly it was allied to mere animal enjoyment, and how prone was its\ndegeneration into the mire of the grossest sensuality. The pictured\npages of Livy, and brazen tablets of the grave Roman senate still\nextant, tell only too true a tale into what a fearful mire of\nbrutishness the fervent worship of Dionysus might plunge its votaries.\nAnd yet out of this Bacchantic worship, so wild, so animal, and so\nsensual, arose the Greek tragedy, confessedly amongst the most\nhigh-toned moral compositions that the history of literature knows. Our\nmodern Puritans, who look upon the door of a theatre (according to the\nphrase of a famous Edinburgh preacher) as the gate of hell, might take\nany one of these seven plays which are here presented in an English\ndress, and with the simple substitution of a few Bible designations for\nHeathen ones, find, so far as moral and religious doctrine is concerned,\nthat, with the smallest possible exercise of the pruning-knife, they\nmight be exhibited in a Christian Church, and be made to subserve the\npurposes of practical piety, as usefully as many a sermon. The following\npassage from the Agamemnon is not a solitary gem from a heap of rubbish,\nbut the very soul and significance of the \u00c6schylean drama:--\n\n  \"For Jove doth teach men wisdom, sternly wins\n  To virtue by the tutoring of their sins;\n  Yea! drops of torturing recollection chill\n  The sleeper's heart; 'gainst man's rebellious will\n    Jove works the wise remorse:\n  Dread Powers, on awful seats enthroned, compel\n    Our hearts with gracious force.\"\n\n{22}\n\nThe only serious charge that, to my knowledge, has ever been made\nagainst the morality of the Greek drama, is that in it \"an innocent\nperson, one in the main of a virtuous character, through no crime of his\nown, nay not by the vices of others, but through mere FATALITY AND\nBLIND CHANCE, is involved in the greatest of all human miseries.\" This\nis the critical judgment of Dr. Blair (lecture xlvi.) in reference to\nthe famous Labdacidan story of \u0152dipus.[f17] Now, though the\npersonal history of \u0152dipus contains many incidents that expose it\njustly to criticism, especially when brought upon the stage in a\nmodernized dress by modern French or other poets (which abuse the\nlearned Doctor no doubt had principally in view); yet, as applied to the\nwhole Labdacidan story, or to the subjects of the Greek drama generally,\nthe allegation is either extremely shallow, or altogether false. There\nis no destiny or fatality of any kind in the \u00c6schylean drama, other\nthan that which, according to the Mosaic record, drove Adam out of\nParadise; that destiny which a divine decree, seeing the end in the\nbeginning, has prepared, and that fatality which makes a guilty man not\nmerely the necessary architect of his own misery, but the propagator of\na moral contagion, more or less, to the offspring that inherits his\npollution and his curse. On this subject I need make no lengthened\nobservations here, as I have brought it and other points of moral and\nreligious feeling prominently forward, both in the introductory\nobservations to the separate plays, and in various places of the notes.\nI shall only say that the reader who does not find a high moral purpose\nand a deep religious meaning in the specimens of ancient Greek worship\nnow submitted to his inspection, has no eye for what is best in these\npages, and had better throw the book down. The Germans, who look deeper\ninto these matters than we have either time, inclination, or, in the\ngeneral case, capacity to do, have written volumes on the\nsubject.[f18] To me it has seemed more suitable to the genius of the\nEnglish reader merely to hint the existence of this rich mine of moral\nwealth, leaving to the quiet thinker where, amid our various political\nand ecclesiastical clamour, he may have found a corner, to work out the\nvein with devout spade and mattock for himself.\n\n{23}\n\nA few words must now be said on the DANCE, as an essential part\nof the lyrical element of the Greek tragedy. Our sober British, stern\nProtestant, and precise Presbyterian notions, make it very difficult for\nus to realize this peculiarity. Even the old Heathen Roman could say,\n\"Nemo fere saltat sobrius, nisi forte insanit\";[f19] much more\nmust it be hard for a modern Presbyterian Christian to recognise, in the\ntwinkling-footed celerity of the merry dance, an exercise which a pious\nold Dorian could look upon as an indispensable part of an act of public\nworship. To read the weighty moral sentences of a solemn \u00c6schylean\nChorus, and then figure to ourselves their author as a dancing-master,\nis an unnatural and almost painful transition of thought to a Christian\nman in these times; and yet Athen\u00e6us tells us, that the author of the\nPrometheus really was a professor of the orchestric art, and a very\ncunning one too.[f20] The fundamental truth of the case is, that the\nreligion of the Greeks was not, like ours, a religion only of moral\nemotions and theological principles, but a religion of the whole man,\nwith rather too decided a tendency, in some parts, it must be confessed,\ntowards a disturbance of the equipoise on the side of the senses. But,\nwhatever may be thought of Bacchic orgies and other associate rites,\nwith regard to dancing, there is plainly nothing in the exercise, when\ndecorously conducted, inconsistent either with dignity, or with piety;\nand the feelings of ancient Romans and modern Presbyterians on the\nsubject, must be regarded as the mere products of arbitrary association.\nCertain it is, that all the Greek philosophers looked upon dancing as an\nessential element, not only in the education of a gentleman, but in the\nperformance of public worship; nay, even among the severe Jews, we read\nthat David, on occasion of a great religious festival, danced before the\nLord; and only an idle woman called him an idle fellow for doing so. We\nneed not be surprised, therefore, if among the merry Greeks, professing\na religion fully as much of physical enjoyment as of moral culture,\norchestric evolutions, along with sacred hymns, formed an essential part\nof the tragic exhibitions belonging to the feasts of the great god\nDionysus. On the details of this matter, we are sadly wanting in\nsatisfactory information; but that the fact was so, there can be no\ndoubt.[f21] The only point with regard to which there is room for a\nserious difference of opinion is, whether every performance of the {24}\nChorus in full band included dancing, or whether it was only introduced\noccasionally, as the ballet in our modern operas. On this point, the\ngreatest authority in Greek Literature at present living has declared\nstrongly in favour of the latter view; and, in doing so, he has been\nfollowed by one of the first philologers of our own country;[f22]\nand as I have not been led, in the course of my studies, to make any\nparticular examination of this subject, I am loath to contradict\nanything proceeding from such an authoritative quarter. One great branch\nof the evidence, I presume, on which this view is supported, lies in the\nwords of the old Scholiast to the choral chaunt in the Ph\u0153nissae of\nEuripides, beginning with these words, \u03a4\u03cd\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd (\u1f40)\u03b9\u03b4\u03bc\u03b1 \u03bb\u03b9\u03c0\u1fe6\u03c3\u1fce \u1f14\u03b2\u03b1\u03bd.\n\"This chaunt,\" says the annotator, \"is what is called a \u03c3\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd, or\n_standing_ chorus; for when the Chorus, after the \u03c0\u03ac\u03c1\u03bf\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2, remaining\nmotionless, sings a hymn arising out of the subject of the play, this\nsong is called a \u03c3\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd. A \u03c0\u03ac\u03c1\u03bf\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2, on the other hand, is a song sung\nas they are marching into the orchestra on the first entrance.\"[f23]\nNow, no doubt, if this matter be taken with a literal exactitude, the\nexpression, \u1f00\u03ba\u03af\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, or _without moving_, will exclude dancing; but if\nwe merely take it generally, as opposed to the great sweeping evolutions\nof the Chorus, and as implying only a permanent occupation of the same\nground in the centre of the orchestra, by the band, as a whole, while\nthe individual members might change their places in the most graceful\nand beautiful variety of forms, we are thus saved from the harshness of\ngiving to the orchestric element, in many plays, a subordinate position,\nequally at variance with the original character of the Chorus, and with\nthe place which the dance held as a prominent part of Greek social\nlife.[f24] With regard to \u00c6schylus, in particular, I do not see how\nI should be acting in consistency with the testimony of Athen\u00e6us just\nquoted, if I were to assign such a small proportion of the choric\nperformances to orchestric accompaniment, as Boeckh and Donaldson have\ndone in their editions of the play of Sophocles, which the genius of\nMiss Faucit has rendered so dear to the friends of the drama in this\ncountry. It would be easy to show, from internal evidence such as Boeckh\nfinds in what he calls the Orchestric Chorus, or \u1f10\u03bc\u03bc\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1 of the\nAntigone, that certain choruses of \u00c6schylus are more adapted for\nviolent and extensive orchestric movements than others. But I have\nthought it more prudent, considering {25} the general uncertainty that\nsurrounds this matter, not to make any allusion to dancing in any one\nperformance of the Chorus more than another; contenting myself with\ncarefully distinguishing everywhere between the anap\u00e6stic parts where\nthe Chorus is plainly making extensive movements, and the CHORAL HYMN\nwith regular Strophe and Antistrophe, which is sung when they are placed\nin their proper position in a square band round the _Thymele_ (\u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bb\u03b7),\nor Bacchic altar, in the centre of the orchestra.[f25]\n\nHaving said so much with regard both to the form and substance of the\nlyric portion of the \u00c6schylean drama, I have said almost all that I was\nanxious to say; for, in stating this matter clearly, I have brushed out\nof the way the principal part of that host of modern associations which\nis so apt to disturb our sympathetic enjoyment of the great masterpieces\nof Hellenic art. Anything that might be said in detail on the iambic or\ndialogic part of ancient tragedy would only serve to set in a yet\nstronger light the grand fact which has been urged, that the strength of\nthe Greek drama lies in the singing, and not in the acting. It were easy\nto show by an extensive analysis, that the classical \"goat-singers\" had\nbut very imperfect notions on the subject of stage dialogue; and that it\nwas a light thing for them to deal at large in mere epic description, or\nrhetorical declamation, without offending the taste of a fastidious\naudience, or sinning grossly against the understood laws of the sort of\ncomposition which they exhibited.[f26] Notwithstanding Aristotle's\nnicely-drawn distinction, the narrated, or purely epic parts of the\nGreek tragedy, are often the best. This is the case not seldom even with\n\u00c6schylus, whose native dramatic power the voice of a master has judged\nto be first-rate.[f27] But with him the infant state of the art, and\nthe insufficient supply of actors,[f28] combined with a radical\nfaultiness of structure, produced, in not a few instances, the same\nanti-dramatic results as the want of dramatic genius in Euripides.\nFurther, to {26} use the language of Mr. Donaldson--\"the narrowness and\ndistance of the stage rendered any (free and complex) grouping\nunadvisable. The arrangement of the actors was that of a processional\nbas relief. Their movements were slow, their gesticulations abrupt and\nangular, and their delivery a sort of loud and deep-drawn sing-song,\nwhich resounded throughout the immense theatre. They probably neglected\neverything like _by-play_ and _making points_, which are so effective on\nthe English stage. The distance at which the spectators were placed\nwould prevent them from seeing those little movements and hearing those\nlow tones which have made the fortune of many a modern actor. The mask,\ntoo, precluded all attempts at varied expression, and it is probable\nthat nothing more was expected from the performer than was looked for\nfrom his predecessor, the rhapsode--viz., good recitation.\" These\nobservations, flowing from a realization of the known circumstances of\nthe case, will sufficiently explain to the modern reader the extreme\nstiffness and formality which distinguishes the tragic dialogue of the\nGreeks from that dexterous and various play of verbal interchange which\ndelights us so much in Shakespere and the other masters of English\ntragedy. Every view, in short, that we can take, tends to fix our\nattention on the musical and the religious elements, as on the\nlife-blood and vital soul of the Hellenic \u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u1ff3\u03b4\u03af\u03b1; forces us\nto the conclusion that, with a due regard to organic principle, its\nproper designation is SACRED OPERA,[f29] and not TRAGEDY, in the\nmodern sense of the word {27} at all; and leads us to look on the\ndramatic art altogether in the hands of \u00c6schylus, not as an infant\nHercules strangling serpents, but as a Titan, like his own Prometheus,\nchained to a rock, whom only, after many ages, a strong Saxon Shakespere\ncould unbind.\n\nTo conclude. If these observations shall seem to any conceived in a\nstyle too depreciatory of the masterpieces of Hellenic art, such persons\nwill observe, that what has been here said of a negative character has\nreference only to the form of these productions as works of art, and not\nto their poetic contents. An unfortunate external arrangement is often,\nas in the case of the German writer Richter, united in intimate\namalgamation with the richest and most exuberant energy of intellectual\nand moral life. However imperfect the Greek \"tragedies\" are as forms of\nartistic exhibition, they are not the less admirable, for the mass of\nhealthy poetic life of which they are the embodiment, and the grand\ncombination of artistic elements which they present. As among the\nworld's notable men there are some who are great rather by a harmonious\ncombination of the great healthy elements of humanity, than by the\ngigantic development of any one faculty, so in literature there are\nphenomena which must be measured by the mass of inward life which they\nconcentrate, not by the structural perfection of form which they\nexhibit. The lyrical tragedy of the Greeks presents, in a combination\nelsewhere unexampled, the best elements of our serious drama, our opera,\nour oratorio, our public worship, and our festal recreations. The people\nwho prepared and enjoyed such an intellectual banquet were not\nbase-minded. Had their stability been equal to their susceptibility, the\nworld had never seen their equal. As it is, they are like to remain for\nages the great Hierophants of the intellectual world, whose influence\nwill always be felt even by those who are ignorant or impudent enough to\ndespise them; and among the various branches of art and science which\nowed a felicitous culture to their dexterous and subtle genius, there is\ncertainly no phenomenon in the wide history of imaginative manifestation\nmore imposing and more significant than that which bears on its face the\nsignature of the rude god of wine, and his band of shaggy and\ngoat-footed revellers.\n\n\n\nTHE LIFE OF \u00c6SCHYLUS\n\n{28}\n\n  \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b2\u03b1\u03ba\u03c7\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u1f05\u03bd\u03b1\u03ba\u03c4\u03b1.--ARISTOPHANES.\n\n  . . . person\u00e6 pall\u00e6que repertor honest\u00e6.--HORACE.\n\nTHE richest heritage that a great dramatic poet can receive from the\npast, is a various store of legendary tradition, in the shape of ballads\nor popular epos; the greatest present blessing that can happen to him\nfrom Heaven, is to live in an age when every mighty thought to which he\ncan give utterance finds a ready response in the hearts of the people,\nurged by the memory of great deeds recently achieved, to aspire after\ngreater yet to come. Both these blessings were enjoyed by the founder of\nthe serious lyrical drama of the Greeks. In Homer, \u00c6schylus recognised\nhis heritage from the past.[f1] Marathon and Salamis were the first\nsublime motions of those strong popular breezes by which the flight of\nhis eagle muse was sustained.\n\nThe Parian marble, more trustworthy than the discordant statements of\nill-informed, or ill-transcribed lexicographers and scholiasts, enables\nus to fix the date of \u00c6schylus, in the year 525 before Christ. Born an\nAthenian, in the deme of Eleusis, of an ancient and noble family, he had\nample opportunity, by the contagion of the place, in his boyish days, of\nbrooding over those lofty religious ideas which formed the\ncharacteristic inspiration of his drama,[f2] Pausanias (I. 21)\nrelates of him that, on one occasion, when he was watching the vineyards\nas a mere boy, Dionysus appeared to him and ordered him to write dramas.\nOf this story, we may say that it either is true, literally, or invented\nto symbolize something that must have been true. The next authentic fact\nin the life of the poet, testified by Suidas, is that in his\ntwenty-fifth year (499, B.C.), the same in which Sardes was burnt by the\nIonians, he first appeared as a competitor for the tragic prize. But, as\nthe strongest intellectual genius is often that which, like the oak,\ngrows slowest, we do not find him registered as having actually gained\nthe prize in such a competition till the lapse of sixteen years.\nMeanwhile, the soul of Greece had been called out at Marathon to prepare\nthe world, as it were, for {29} that brilliant display of\nself-dependence which was afterwards made at Salamis. At both these\nvictories, which belonged to the world as much as to Greece, \u00c6schylus\nwas present, as also, according to some accounts, at Artemisium and\nPlat\u00e6ae--learning in all these encounters how much more noble it is to\nact poetry than to sing it, and borrowing from them certain high\ntrumpet-notes of martial inspiration that stirred the soul deeper than\nany that could have been fetched from the fountains of Helicon, or the\ndouble peak of Parnassus. Braced in this best school of manhood, he\ncontinued his exertions as a dramatic poet, bringing gradually to\nfirmness and maturity the dim broodings of his early years, till, in the\nyear 484, according to the marble already quoted, he was publicly\ndeclared victor in that species of composition, of which, from the great\nimprovement he made in it, he was afterwards to be celebrated as the\nfather. In a few years after this, he, with his brother Ameinias,\nperformed a distinguished part at the battle of Salamis; and this\nvictory he eight years afterwards celebrated in his play of the\nPERSIANS, the earliest of his extant productions, of which the date is\ncertainly known.[f3] The next mention that we find of the poet,\namong the few stray and comparatively unimportant notices that remain,\nis that some time between the year 478, that is, two years after the\nbattle of Salamis, and the year 467, he paid a visit to Sicily, and\nalong with Pindar, Bacchylides, Simonides, and other famous poets, was\nhospitably entertained by Hieron the famous tyrant of Syracuse. The two\ndates mentioned are those which mark the beginning and the end of the\nreign of that ruler; within which period, of course, the visit to Sicily\nmust have taken place. Plutarch, in his life of Cimon (c. 8), connects\n\u00c6schylus' departure for Sicily with the first tragic victory gained by\nthe young Sophocles in the year preceding the death of Hiero; but it is\npossible that this precise date may have no other foundation than the\nstory which attributed the Sicilian journey of the elder bard to his\nenvy of the rising greatness of the younger; an instance of that sort of\nimpertinence in which small wits constantly indulge when they busy\nthemselves to assign motives for the actions of great ones. But the\nprecise period is of small moment. When in Sicily, we are told {30} that\n\u00c6schylus re-exhibited his play of the Persians,[f4] and also wrote\na play called the AETNEANS, to celebrate the foundation of the new\ncity of Etna by his patron. This event, we are informed by Diodorus (xi.\n49), took place in the year 476, a date which would require the presence\nof the poet in Sicily six years before the date mentioned by Plutarch.\nConnected with Sicily, there is worthy of mention also, in a life of\n\u00c6schylus, the notable eruption of Etna, which took place in the year\n479--the same in which the battle of Plat\u00e6ae took place[f5]--because\nthere is a distinct allusion to this in the Prometheus Bound\n(p. 192), which enables us to say that this famous drama could not have\nbeen written before the forty-seventh year of the poet's life--that is\nto say, the full maturity of his powers. The next date in the life of\nthe poet, according to the recently discovered \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03af\u03b1 to the SEVEN\nAGAINST THEBES,[f6] is the representation of the great Oedipodean\ntetralogy in the year 467; and the next date is a yet more important\none, the year of the representation of that famous trilogy, still\nextant, which has always been looked on as his masterpiece. The\nargument of the AGAMEMNON fixes the exhibition of the trilogy of which\nit is the first piece, to the year of the archonship of Philocles,\nB.C. 458. It is known, also, that the poet died at Gela, in Sicily,\ntwo years afterwards, in the sixty-ninth year of his age, the date\nbeing given in the marble; and there can be little doubt that the\ncause of this, his final retirement to that island, must have been a\ngrowing distance between him and the Athenian public, arising from\ndiversity of political feeling, and the state of parties in the Attic\ncapital. In that city, democracy had been in steady advance from the\ntime of Cleisthenes (B.C. 509), and was now ebullient under the popular\ninspiration of the recent Persian wars, and glorified by the\ncaptainship of Pericles. The tendencies of the poet of the Eumenides\n(as explained in the introduction to that play) were all aristocratic;\nand it is in the highest degree probable that the reception given by\ndemocratic spectators to his eulogy of the aristocratic Court of the\nAreopagus, in the play just mentioned, may have been such as to induce\nhim to consult his own comfort, if not his safety, by withdrawing\naltogether from a scene where his continual presence might only tend\nto irritate those whom it could not alter.\n\nAfter his death the Athenians testified their esteem for his character\nby decreeing--what was quite an extraordinary privilege {31} according\nto their stage practice--that his dramas might be exhibited at the great\nDionysiac festivals, when their author could be no longer a competitor\nfor the prize.[f7] The people of Gela, justly proud that the bones\nof so great a man should repose in their soil, erected a monument to his\nmemory with the following inscription:--\n\n  \"Here \u00c6schylus lies, from his Athenian home\n  Remote, 'neath Gela's wheat-producing loam.\n  How brave in battle was Euphorion's son\n  The long-haired Mede can tell that fled from Marathon.\"\n\nWith regard to the great merits of \u00c6schylus both as a poet and as the\ncreator of the tragic stage, there is but one testimony among the\nwriters of antiquity. He not only introduced, as we have elsewhere\nstated, a second, and afterwards a third actor--without which there was\nno scope for the proper representation of an action--but he made the\ngreatest improvements in the whole machinery and decorations of the\nstage, gave dignity to the actors by a minute attention to their masks,\ndresses, and buskins,[f8] besides attending specially to the\ngraceful culture of the dance, according to the testimony of Athen\u00e6us\nabove quoted. As a dramatist he is distinguished by peculiar loftiness\nof conception and grandeur of phraseology. His style is sometimes harsh\nand abrupt, but it is always manly and vigorous; his metaphors are bold\nand striking, with something at times almost oriental in their cast;\nand, though not free from the offence of mixing incongruous\nmetaphors--the natural sin of an imagination at once fearless and\nfertile--I do not think he can be fairly charged with turgidity and\nbombast; for, as Aristophanes remarks, in the FROGS, there is a\nsuperhuman grandeur about his characters which demands a more than\ncommon elevation of phrase.[f9] As to the obscurity with which he\nhas been charged, {32} the comparative clearness of those plays which\nhave been most frequently transcribed is a plain indication that this\nfault proceeds more from the carelessness of stupid copyists, than from\nconfusion of thought or inadequate power of expression in the writer. In\nsome cases, as in the prophecy of Calchas in the opening scene of the\nAGAMEMNON, the obscurity is studied and most appropriate. Poetry, like\npainting, will have its shade. But the great excellence of \u00c6schylus, as\na poet, is the bracing tone of thorough manhood, noble morality, and\nprofound piety which pervades his works. Among those who are celebrated\nby Virgil as walking with Orpheus and Mus\u00e6us in blissful Elysium--\n\n  \"Quique pii vates et Phoebo digna locuti,\"\n\nthe poet of the EUMENIDES deserves the first rank. There is a\ntradition current, in various shapes, among the ancient writers that he\nwas brought before the Court of the Areopagus (so nobly eulogised by\nhimself), on the charge of impiety, but that he was acquitted. That the\nAthenians might have taken offence at the freedom and boldness with\nwhich he handled religious, as other topics, is possible, though\ncertainly by no means probable, considering how little of fixed doctrine\nthere was in their imaginative theology; but it is more like the truth,\naccording to the accounts which we have, that the offence which he gave\nconsisted in some purely accidental allusion occurring in one of his\nplays, to some points that were, or seemed to be connected with the\nawful Eleusinian mysteries.[f10] Certain it is that no writer could\nbe less justly charged with impiety or irreligion. In his writings,\nreligion is the key-note; and the noblest moral sentiments spring\neverywhere from the profoundest faith in a system of retribution carried\non by the various personages of the great celestial aristocracy, of\nwhich Jove is the all-powerful and the all-wise head. So sublime,\nindeed, is the \u00c6schylean theology, that certain modern writers, as if\nunwilling to think that such pure notions could co-exist with a belief\nin the popular religion, have concluded that the poet, like Euripides\nafterwards, must have been a free-thinker; and have imagined that they\nhave found sure indications to this effect in his writings. But, though\n\u00c6schylus was a Pythagorean (Cic. Tusc. II. 10), we have no proof that\nthe Pythagoreans, any more than their successors, the Platonists, were\ngiven to scepticism. The seriousness of a poetic mind like that of\n\u00c6schylus is, at all times, naturally inclined to faith; and the\nmultiform {33} polytheism of the Greeks was as pliable in the hands of\npure men for pure purposes, as in the hands of gross men, to give a\ndelusive ideality to their grossness.[f11]\n\n\n\nAGAMEMNON\n\n{35}\n\nA LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE\n\n \"\u1f49\u03b9 \u03a4\u03c1\u03ce\u03c9\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u03b5\u03be\u03ad\u03c6\u03c5\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd \u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u03cc\u03b5\u03c3\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u1f00\u03cb\u03c4\u1f74\u03bd\n \u1f18\u03bd \u03bd\u03cc\u03c3\u03c4\u1ff3 \u03b4\u1fbd \u03b1\u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f30\u03cc\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9 \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u03cc\u03c2.\"\n\n \"Greeks that 'scaped the Trojan war-cry, and the wailing battle-field,\n But home returning basely perished by a wicked woman's guile.\"\n                                     HOMER, _Odys_. xi. 383-4.\n\n\n\nPERSONS\n\n{36}\n\n WATCHMAN.\n CHORUS OF ARGIVE ELDERS.\n CLYTEMNESTRA, Wife of Agamemnon.\n HERALD.\n AGAMEMNON, King of Argos and Mycen\u00e6.\n CASSANDRA, a Trojan Prophetess, Daughter of Priam.\n \u00c6GISTHUS, Son of Thyestes.\n\nSCENE--The Royal Palace in Argos.\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY REMARKS\n\n{37}\n\nOF all that rich variety of Epic materials with which the early\nminstrel-literature of Greece supplied the drama of a future age, there\nwas no more notable cycle among the ancients than that which went by the\npopular name of \u039d\u03cc\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9, or the _Returns_; comprehending an account\nof the adventures that befell the various Hellenic heroes of the Trojan\nwar in their return home. To this cycle, in its most general\nacceptation, the Odyssey itself belongs; though the name of\n\u039d\u03cc\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9, according to the traditions of the ancient grammarians, is\nmore properly confined to a legendary Epic, composed by an old poet,\nAgias of Troezene, of which the return of Agamemnon and Menelaus forms\nthe principal subject. Of this Epos the grammarian Proclus[f1]\ngives us the following abstract:--\n\n\"Athena raises a strife between Agamemnon and Menelaus concerning their\nvoyage homeward. Agamemnon remains behind, in order to pacify the wrath\nof Athena; but Diomede and Nestor depart, and return in safety to their\nown country. After them Menelaus sails, and arrives with five ships in\nEgypt; the rest of his vessels having been lost in a storm. Meanwhile,\nCalchas and Leonteus and Polyp\u0153tes go to Colophon, and celebrate the\nfuneral obsequies of Tiresias, who had died there. There is then\nintroduced the shade of Achilles appearing to Agamemnon, and warning him\nof the dangers that he was about to encounter. Then follows a storm as\nthe fleet is passing the Capharean rocks, at the south promontory of\nEub\u0153a, on which occasion the Locrian Ajax is destroyed by the wrath of\nAthena, whom he had offended. Neoptolemus, on the other hand, under the\nprotection of Thetis, makes his way overland through Thrace (where he\nencounters Ulysses in Maronea), to his native country, and proceeding to\nthe country of the Molossi, is there recognised by his grandfather, the\naged Peleus, the father of Achilles. The poem then concludes with an\naccount of the murder of Agamemnon by \u00c6gisthus and Clytemnestra, of the\nrevenge taken on her by Orestes and Pylades, and of the return of\nMenelaus to Laced\u00e6mon.\"[f2]\n\n{38} The last sentence of this curious notice contains the Epic germ of\nwhich the famous trilogy--the Agamemnon, the Choephor\u0153, and the\nEumenides of \u00c6schylus--present the dramatic expansion. The celebrity\nof the legends with regard to the return of the mighty Atridan arose\nnaturally from the prominent situation in which he stood as the admiral\nof the famous thousand-masted fleet; and, besides, the passage from the\nold Troezenian minstrel just quoted, is sufficiently attested by various\npassages--some of considerable length--in the Odyssey, which will\nreadily present themselves to the memory of those who are familiar\nwith the productions of the great Ionic Epop\u0153ist. In the very opening\nof that poem, for instance, occur the following remarkable lines:--\n\n  \"Strange, O strange, that mortal men immortal gods will still be\n    blaming,\n  Saying that the source of evil lies with us; while they, in sooth,\n  More than Fate would have infatuate with sharp sorrows pierce\n    themselves!\n  Thus even now \u00c6gisthus, working sorrow more than Fate would have,\n  The Atridan's wife hath wedded, and himself returning slain,\n  Knowing well the steep destruction that awaits him; for ourselves\n  Sent the sharp-eyed Argus-slayer, Hermes, to proclaim our will,\n  That nor him he dare to murder, nor his wedded wife to woo.\n  Thus spoke Hermes well and wisely; but thy reckless wit, \u00c6gisthus,\n  Moved he not; full richly therefore now thy folly's fine thou payest.\"\n\nAnd the same subject is reverted to in the Third Book (v. 194), where\nold Nestor, in Pylos, gives an account to Telemachus, first of his own\nsafe return, and then of the fate of the other Greeks, so far as he\nknew; and, again, in the Fourth Book (v. 535) where Menelaus is informed\nof his brother's sad fate (slain \"like a bull in a stall\") by the old\nprophetic Proteus, the sea harlequin of the African coast; and, also, in\nthe Eleventh Book (v. 405), where Ulysses, in Hades, hears the sad\nrecital from the injured shade of the royal Atridan himself.\n\nThe tragic events by which Agamemnon and his family have acquired such a\ncelebrity in the epic and dramatic annals of Greece, are but the sequel\nand consummation of a series of similar events commencing with the great\nancestor of the family; all which hang together in the chain of popular\ntradition by the great moral principle so often enunciated in the course\nof these dramas, that sin has always a tendency to propagate its like,\nand a root of bitterness once planted in a family, will grow up and\nbranch out luxuriantly, till, in the fulness of time, it bears those\nbloody blossoms, and fruits of perdition that are its natural product.\nThe guilty ancestor, in the present case, is the {39} well-known\nTantalus, the peculiar style of whose punishment in the infernal regions\nhas been stereotyped, for the modern memory, in the shape of one of the\nmost common and most expressive words in the English language. Tantalus,\na son of Jove, a native of Sipylos in Phrygia, and who had been admitted\nto the table of the gods, thinking it a small matter to know the divine\ncounsels, if he did not, at the same time, gratify his vanity by making\na public parade of his knowledge before profane ears, was punished in\nthe pit of Tartarus by those tortures of ever reborn and never gratified\ndesire which every schoolboy knows. His son, Pelops, an exile from his\nnative country, comes with great wealth to Pisa; and having, by\nstratagem, won, in a chariot race, Hippodamia, the daughter of\nOernomaus, king of that place, himself succeeded to the kingdom, and\nbecame so famous, according to the legend, as to lend a new name to the\nsouthern peninsula of Greece which was the theatre of his\nexploits.[f3] In his career also, however, the traces of blood\nare not wanting, which soil so darkly the path of his no less famous\ndescendants. Pelops slew Myrtilus, the charioteer by whose aid he had\nwon the race that was the beginning of his greatness; and it was the\nFury of this Myrtilus--or \"his blood crying to Heaven,\" as in Christian\nstyle we should express it--that, according to one poet (Eurip. Orest.\n981), gave rise to the terrible retributions of blood by which the\nhistory of the Pelopidan family is marked. Of Pelops, according to the\ncommon account, Atreus and Thyestes were the sons. These having murdered\ntheir stepbrother, Chrysippus, were obliged to flee for safety to\nMycen\u00e6, in Argolis, where, in the course of events, they afterwards\nestablished themselves, and became famous for their wealth and for their\ncrimes. The bloody story of these hostile brothers commences with the\nseduction, by Thyestes, of Aerope, the wife of Atreus; in revenge for\nwhich insult, Atreus recalls his banished brother, and, pretending\nreconciliation, offers that horrid feast of human flesh--the blood of\nthe children to the lips of the father--from which the sun turned away\nhis face in horror. The effect of this deed of blood was to entail,\nbetween the two families of Thyestes and Atreus, a hereditary hostility,\nthe fruits of which appeared afterwards in the person of \u00c6gisthus, the\nson of the former, who is found, in this first play of the trilogy,\nengaged with Clytemnestra in a treacherous plot to avenge his father's\nwrongs, by the murder of his uncle's son.\n\nAgamemnon, the son, or, according to a less common account (for which\nsee Schol. ad Iliad II. 249), the grandson of Atreus, being {40}\ndistinguished above the other Hellenic princes for wealth and power, was\neither by special election appointed, or by that sort of irregular\nkingship common among half-civilized nations, allowed to conduct the\nfamous expedition against Troy that in early times foreshadowed the\nconquests of Alexander the Great, and the influence of the Greek\nlanguage and letters in the East. Such a distant expedition as this,\nlike the crusades in the middle ages, was not only a natural living Epos\nin itself, but would necessarily give rise to that intense glow of\npopular sympathy, and that excited state of the popular imagination,\nwhich enable the wandering poets of the people to make the best poetic\nuse of the various dramatic incidents that the realities of a highly\npotentiated history present. Accordingly we find, in the very outset of\nthe expedition, the fleet, storm-bound in the harbour of Aulis, opposite\nEub\u0153a, enabled to pursue its course, under good omens, only by the\nsacrifice of the fairest daughter of the chief. This event--a sad\nmemorial of the barbarous practice of human sacrifice, even among the\npolished Greeks--formed the subject of a special play, perhaps a\ntrilogic series of plays,[f4] by \u00c6schylus. This performance,\nhowever, has been unfortunately lost; and we can only imagine what it\nmay have been by the description in the opening chorus of the present\nplay, and by the beautiful, though certainly far from \u00c6schylean,\ntragedy of Euripides. For our present purpose, it is sufficient to note\nthat, in the Agamemnon, special reference is made to the sacrifice of\nIphigenia, both as an unrighteous deed on the part of the father, for\nwhich some retribution was naturally to be expected, and as the origin\nof a special grudge in the mind of the mother, which she afterwards\ngratifies by the murder of her husband.\n\nAs to that deed of blood itself, and its special adaptation for dramatic\npurposes, there can be no doubt; as little that \u00c6schylus has used his\nmaterials in the present play in a fashion that satisfies the highest\ndemands both of lyric and dramatic poetry, as executed by the first\nmasters of both. The calm majesty and modest dignity of the much-tried\nmonarch; the cool self-possession, and the smooth front of specious\npoliteness that mark the character of the royal murderess: the\nobstreperous bullying of the cowardly braggart, who does the deed with\nhis heart, not with his hand; the half-wild, half-tender ravings of the\nhorror-haunted Trojan prophetess; these together contain a combination\nof highly wrought dramatic elements, {41} such as is scarcely excelled\neven in the all-embracing pages of our own Shakespere. As far removed\nfrom common-place are the lyrical--in \u00c6schylus never the\nsecondary--elements of the piece. The sublime outbreak of Cassandra's\nprophetic horror is, as the case demanded, made to exhibit itself as\nmuch under the lyric as in the declamatory form; while the other choral\nparts, remarkable for length and variety, are marked not only by that\nmighty power of intense moral feeling which is so peculiarly \u00c6schylean,\nbut by the pictorial beauty and dramatic reality that distinguish the\nworkmanship of a great lyric master from that of the vulgar dealer in\ninflated sentiment and sonorous sentences.\n\n\n\nAGAMEMNON\n\n{43}\n\n WATCHMAN.\n I pray the gods a respite from these toils,\n This long year's watch that, dog-like, I have kept,\n High on the Atridan's battlements,[n1] beholding\n The nightly council of the stars, the circling\n Of the celestial signs, and those bright regents,\n High-swung in ether, that bring mortal men\n Summer and winter. Here I watch the torch,\n The appointed flame that wings a voice from Troy,\n Telling of capture; thus I serve her hopes,\n The masculine-minded who is sovereign here.[n2]\n And when night-wandering shades encompass round\n My dew-sprent dreamless couch (for fear doth sit\n In slumber's chair, and holds my lids apart),\n I chaunt some dolorous ditty, making song,\n Sleep's substitute, surgeon my nightly care,\n And the misfortunes of this house I weep,\n Not now, as erst, by prudent counsels swayed.\n Oh! soon may the wished for sign relieve my toils,\n Thrice-welcome herald, gleaming through the night!\n   (_The beacon is seen shining_.)\n All hail thou cresset of the dark! fair gleam\n Of day through midnight shed, all hail! bright father\n Of joy and dance, in Argos, hail! all hail!\n Hillo! hilloa!\n I will go tell the wife of Agamemnon\n To shake dull sleep away, and lift high-voiced[n3]\n The jubilant shout well-omened, to salute\n This welcome beacon, if, indeed, old Troy\n Hath fallen--as flames this courier torch to tell.\n Myself will dance the prelude to this joy.\n My master's house hath had a lucky throw,\n And thrice six falls to me,[n4] thanks to the flame!\n Soon may he see his home; and soon may I\n Carry my dear-loved master's hand in mine!\n The rest I whisper not, for on my tongue\n Is laid a seal.[n5] These walls, if they could speak,\n {44}\n Would say strange things. Myself to those that know\n Am free of speech, to whoso knows not dumb. [_Exit_.\n\n  [_Enter_ CHORUS _in procession. March time_.\n\n CHORUS.\n  Nine years have rolled, the tenth is rolling,\n  Since the strong Atridan pair,\n  Menelaus and Agamemnon,\n  Sceptred kings by Jove's high grace,[n6]\n  With a host of sworn alliance,\n  With a thousand triremes rare,\n  With a righteous strong defiance,\n  Sailed for Troy. From furious breast\n  Loud they clanged the peal of battle;\n  Like the cry of vultures wild\n  O'er the lone paths fitful-wheeling,[n7]\n  With their plumy oarage oaring\n  Over the nest by the spoiler spoiled,\n  The nest dispeopled now and bare,\n     Their long but fruitless care.\n  But the gods see it: some Apollo,\n  Pan or Jove, the wrong hath noted,\n  Heard the sharp and piercing cry\n  Of the startled birds, shrill-throated\n     Tenants of the sky;\n  And the late-chastising Fury[n8]\n  Sent from above to track the spoiler,\n     Hovers vengeful nigh.\n  Thus great Jove, the high protector\n  Of the hospitable laws,[n9]\n  'Gainst Alexander sends the Atridans,\n  Harnessed in a woman's cause,\n   The many-lorded fair.\n  Toils on toils shall come uncounted,\n   (Jove hath willed it so);\n  Limb-outwearying hard endeavour,\n  Where the strong knees press the dust,\n  Where the spear-shafts split and shiver,\n   Trojan and Greek shall know.\n  But things are as they are: the chain\n  Of Fate doth brad them; sighs are vain,\n  Tears, libations, fruitless flow,\n  To divert from purposed ire\n  The powers whose altars know no fire.[n10]\n {45}\n  But we behind that martial train\n   Inglorious left remain,\n  Old and frail, and feebly leaning\n  Strength as of childhood on a staff.\n  Yea! even as life's first unripe marrow\n  In the tender bones are we,\n   From war's harsh service free.\n  For hoary Eld, life's leaf up-shrunken,\n  Totters, his three-footed way\n  Feebly feeling, weak as childhood,\n  Like a dream that walks by day.\n  But what is this? what wandering word,\n  Clytemnestra queen, hath reached thee?\n  What hast seen? or what hast heard\n  That from street to street swift flies\n  Thy word, commanding sacrifice?\n  All the altars of all the gods\n  That keep the city, gods supernal,\n  Gods Olympian, gods infernal,\n  Gods of the Forum, blaze with gifts;\n  Right and left the flame mounts high,\n     Spiring to the sky,\n  With the gentle soothings cherished\n  Of the oil that knows no malice,[n11]\n  And the sacred cake that smokes\n  From the queen's chamber in the palace.\n  What thou canst and may'st, declare;\n  Be the healer of the care\n  That bodes black harm within me; change it\n  To the bright and hopeful ray,\n  Which from the altar riseth, chasing\n  From the heart the sateless sorrow\n     That eats vexed life away.\n\n  [_The_ CHORUS, _having now arranged themselves into a regular band\n  in the middle of the Orchestra, sing the First_ CHORAL HYMN.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE.\n I'll voice the strain.[n12] What though the arm be weak\n      That once was strong,\n The suasive breath of Heaven-sent memories stirs\n     The old man's breast with song.\n     My age hath virtue left\n {46}\n To sing what fateful omens strangely beckoned\n     The twin kings to the fray,\n   What time to Troy concentuous marched\n     The embattled Greek array.\n Jove's swooping bird, king of all birds,[f5] led on\n The kings of the fleet with spear and vengeful hand:\n By the way-side from shining seats serene,\n Close by the palace, on the spear-hand seen,[f6]\n   Two eagles flapped the air,\n One black, the other silver-tipt behind,\n And with keen talons seized a timorous hare,\n   Whose strength could run no more,\n Itself, and the live burden which it bore.\n   Sing woe and well-a-day! But still\n   May the good omens shame the ill.\n\n ANTISTROPHE.\n The wise diviner of the host[f7] beheld,\n      And knew the sign;\n The hare-devouring birds with diverse wings\n     Typed the Atridan pair,\n     The diverse-minded kings;[n13]\n And thus the fate he chaunted:--Not in vain\n     Ye march this march to-day;\n   Old Troy shall surely fall, but not\n     Till moons on moons away\n Have lingering rolled. Rich stores by labour massed\n Clean-sweeping Fate shall plunder. Grant the gods,\n While this strong bit for Troy we forge with gladness,\n No heavenly might in jealous wrath o'ercast\n     Our mounting hope with sadness.\n For the chaste Artemis[f8] a sore grudge nurses\n Against the kings; Jove's winged hounds she curses,[n14]\n     The fierce war-birds that tore\n The fearful hare, with the young brood it bore.\n   Sing woe and well-a-day! but still\n   May the good omens shame the ill.\n\n{47}\n\n EPODE.\n The lion's fresh-dropt younglings, and each whelp\n That sucks wild milk, and through the forest roves,\n Live not unfriended; them the fair goddess loves,[n15]\n    And lends her ready help.\n The vision of the birds shall work its end\n In bliss, but dashed not lightly with black bane;[f9]\n I pray thee, P\u00e6an, may she never send[n16]\n Contrarious blasts dark-lowering, to detain\n     The Argive fleet.\n Ah! ne'er may she desire to feast her eyes\n On an unblest unholy sacrifice,\n From festal use abhorrent, mother of strife,\n And sundering from her lawful lord the wife.[f10]\n Stern-purposed waits the child-avenging wrath[n17]\n    About the fore-doomed halls,\n Weaving dark wiles, while with sure-memoried sting\n     Fury to Fury calls.\n Thus hymned the seer, the doom, in dubious chaunt\n Bliss to the chiefs dark-mingling with the bane,\n   From the way-haunting birds; and we\n    Respondent to the strain,\n   Sing woe and well-a-day! but still\n   May the good omens shame the ill.\n\n STROPHE I.\n    Jove, or what other name[n18]\n The god that reigns supreme delights to claim,\n Him I invoke; him of all powers that be,\n     Alone I find,\n Who from this bootless load of doubt can free\n     My labouring mind.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n    Who was so great of yore,\n With all-defiant valour brimming o'er,[n19]\n Is mute; and who came next by a stronger arm\n     Thrice-vanquished fell;\n But thou hymn victor Jove: so in thy heart\n     His truth shall dwell\n\n {48}\n\n STROPHE II.\n For Jove doth teach men wisdom, sternly wins\n To virtue by the tutoring of their sins;\n Yea! drops of torturing recollection chill\n The sleeper's heart; 'gainst man's rebellious will\n     Jove works the wise remorse:\n Dread Powers, on awful seats enthroned, compel\n     Our hearts with gracious force.[n20]\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n The elder chief, the leader of the ships,\n Heard the dire doom, nor dared to ope his lips\n Against the seer, and feared alone to stand\n 'Gainst buffeting fate, what time the Chalcian strand[f11]\n     Saw the vexed Argive masts\n In Aulis tides hoarse-refluent,[n21] idly chained\n     By the fierce Borean blasts;\n\n STROPHE III.\n   Blasts from Strymon[f12] adverse braying,\n   Harbour-vexing, ship-delaying,\n   Snapping cables, shattering oars,\n   Wasting time, consuming stores,\n   With vain-wandering expectation,\n   And with long-drawn slow vexation\n     Wasting Argive bloom.\n   At length the seer forth-clanged the doom,\n   A remedy strong to sway the breeze,\n   And direful Artemis to appease,\n     But to the chiefs severe:\n The Atridans with their sceptres struck the ground,\n     Nor could restrain the tear.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n   Then spake the elder. To deny,\n   How hard! still harder to comply!\n   My daughter dear, my joy, my life,\n   To slay with sacrificial knife,\n   And with life's purple-gushing tide,\n   Imbrue a father's hand, beside\n     The altar of the gods.\n   This way or that is ill: for how\n   Shall I despise my federate vow?\n {49}\n   How leave the ships? That all conspire\n     Thus hotly to desire\n The virgin's blood--wind-soothing sacrifice--\n   Is the gods' right. So be it.[n22]\n\n STROPHE IV.\n Thus to necessity's harsh yoke he bared\n His patient neck. Unblissful blew the gale\n     That turned the father's heart[n23]\n To horrid thoughts unholy, thoughts that dared\n The extreme of daring. Sin from its primal spring\n Mads the ill-counsel'd heart, and arms the hand\n      With reckless strength. Thus he\n Gave his own daughter's blood, his life, his joy,\n To speed a woman's war, and consecrate[n24]\n      His ships for Troy.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n In vain with prayers, in vain she beats dull ears\n With a father's name; the war-delighting chiefs\n      Heed not her virgin years.\n The father stood; and when the priests had prayed,\n Take her, he said; in her loose robes enfolden,\n Where prone and spent she lies,[n25] so lift the maid;\n      Even as a kid is laid,\n So lay her on the altar; with dumb force\n Her beauteous[f13] mouth gag, lest it breathe a voice\n      Of curse to Argos.\n\n STROPHE V.\n And as they led the maid, her saffron robe[n26]\n Sweeping the ground, with pity-moving dart\n    She smote each from her eye,\n Even as a picture beautiful, fain to speak,\n But could not. Well that voice they knew of yore;\n   Oft at her father's festive board,\n With gallant banqueters ringed cheerly round,\n     The virgin strain they heard[n27]\n     That did so sweetly pour\n Her father's praise, whom Heaven had richly crowned\n     With bounty brimming o'er.\n\n {50}\n\n ANTISTROPHE V.\n The rest I know not, nor will vainly pry;\n But Calchas was a seer not wont to lie.\n     Justice doth wait to teach\n Wisdom by suffering. Fate will have its way.\n The quickest ear is pricked in vain to-day,\n   To catch to-morrow's note. What boots\n To forecast woe, which, on no wavering wing,[n28]\n     The burthen'd hour shall bring.\n      But we, a chosen band,\n Left here sole guardians of the Apian land,[f14]\n     Pray Heaven, all good betide!\n\n   [_Enter_ CLYTEMNESTRA.\n\n CHORUS.\n Hail Clytemnestra! honour to thy sceptre!\n When her lord's throne is vacant, the wife claims\n His honour meetly. Queen, if thou hast heard\n Good news, or to the hope of good that shall be,\n With festal sacrifice dost fill the city,\n I fain would know; but nothing grudge thy silence.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Bearing blithe tidings, saith the ancient saw,\n Fair Morn be gendered from boon mother Night!\n News thou shalt hear beyond thy topmost hope;\n The Greeks have ta'en old Priam's city.\n\n CHORUS.\n                                        How!\n Troy taken! the word drops from my faithless ear.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n The Greeks have taken Troy. Can I speak plainer?\n\n CHORUS.\n Joy o'er my heart creeps, and provokes the tear.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Thine eye accuses thee that thou art kind.\n\n CHORUS.\n What warrant of such news? What certain sign?\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Both sign and seal, unless some god deceive me.\n\n CHORUS.\n Dreams sometimes speak; did suasive visions move thee?\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Where the soul sleeps, and the sense slumbers, there\n Shall the wise ask for reasons?\n\n CHORUS.\n                                Ever swift\n Though wingless, Fame,[n29] with tidings fair hath cheered thee.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Thou speak'st as one who mocks a simple girl.\n\n CHORUS.\n Old Troy is taken? how?--when did it fall?\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n The self-same night that mothers this to-day.\n\n CHORUS.\n But how? what stalwart herald ran so fleetly?\n\n {51}\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Heph\u00e6stus.[f15] He from Ida shot the spark;[n30]\n And flaming straightway leapt the courier fire\n From height to height; to the Herm\u00e6an rock\n Of Lemnos, first from Ida; from the isle\n The Ath\u00f3an steep of mighty Jove received\n The beaming beacon; thence the forward strength\n Of the far-travelling lamp strode gallantly[n31]\n Athwart the broad sea's back. The flaming pine\n Rayed out a golden glory like the sun,\n And winged the message to Macistus' watch-tower.\n There the wise watchman, guiltless of delay,\n Lent to the sleepless courier further speed;\n And the Messapian station hailed the torch\n Far-beaming o'er the floods of the Eur\u00edpus.\n There the grey heath lit the responsive fire,\n Speeding the portioned message; waxing strong,\n And nothing dulled across Asopus' plain\n The flame swift darted like the twinkling moon,\n And on Cith\u00e6ron's rocky heights awaked\n A new receiver of the wandering light.\n The far-sent ray, by the faithful watch not spurned,\n With bright addition journeying, bounded o'er\n Gorg\u00f3pus' lake and \u00c6giplanctus' mount,\n Weaving the chain unbroken.[n32] Hence it spread\n Not scant in strength, a mighty beard of flame,[n33]\n Flaring across the headlands that look down\n On the Saronic gulf.[n34] Speeding its march,\n It reached the neighbour-station of our city,\n Arachne's rocky steep; and thence the halls\n Of the Atrid\u00e6 recognised the signal,\n Light not unfathered by Id\u00e6an fire.\n Such the bright train of my torch-bearing heralds,\n Each from the other fired with happy news,\n And last and first was victor in the race.[n35]\n Such the fair tidings that my lord hath sent,\n A sign that Troy hath fallen.\n\n CHORUS.\n                              And for its fall\n Our voice shall hymn the gods anon: meanwhile\n I'm fain to drink more wonder from thy words.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n This day Troy fell. Methinks I see't; a host\n Of jarring voices stirs the startled city,\n Like oil and acid, sounds that will not mingle,\n {52}\n By natural hatred sundered. Thou may'st hear\n Shouts of the victor, with the dying groan,\n Battling, and captives' cry; upon the dead--\n Fathers and mothers, brothers, sisters, wives--\n The living fall--the young upon the old;\n And from enthrall\u00e9d necks wail out their woe.\n Fresh from the fight, through the dark night the spoilers\n Tumultuous rush where hunger spurs them on,\n To feast on banquets never spread for them.\n The homes of captive Trojan chiefs they share\n As chance decides the lodgment; there secure\n From the cold night-dews and the biting frosts,\n Beneath the lordly roof, to their hearts' content[n36]\n They live, and through the watchless night prolong\n Sound slumbers. Happy if the native gods\n They reverence, and the captured altars spare,[n37]\n Themselves not captive led by their own folly!\n May no unbridled lust of unjust gain\n Master their hearts, no reckless rash desire!\n Much toil yet waits them. Having turned the goal,[n38]\n The course's other half they must mete out,\n Ere home receive them safe. Their ships must brook\n The chances of the sea; and, these being scaped,\n If they have sinned[n39] the gods their own will claim,\n And vengeance wakes till blood shall be atoned.\n I am a woman; but mark thou well my words;\n I hint the harm; but with no wavering scale,\n Prevail the good! I thank the gods who gave me\n Rich store of blessings, richly to enjoy.\n\n CHORUS.\n Woman, thou speakest wisely as a man,\n And kindly as thyself. But having heard\n The certain signs of Agamemnon's coming,\n Prepare we now to hymn the gods; for surely\n With their strong help we have not toiled in vain.\n\n     O regal Jove! O blessed Night!\n     Thou hast won thee rich adornments,\n     Thou hast spread thy shrouding meshes\n     O'er the towers of Priam. Ruin\n     Whelms the young, the old. In vain\n     Shall they strive to o'erleap the snare,\n     And snap the bondsman's galling chain,\n      In woe retrieveless lost.\n {53}\n     Jove, I fear thee, just protector\n     Of the wrong'd host's sacred rights;\n     Thou didst keep thy bow sure bent\n     'Gainst Alexander; not before\n     The fate-predestined hour, and not\n     Beyond the stars, with idle aim,\n      Thy cunning shaft was shot.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n    The hand of Jove hath smote them; thou\n      May'st trace it plainly;\n    What the god willed, behold it now\n      Not purposed vainly!\n    The gods are blind,[n40] and little caring,\n    So one hath said, to mark the daring\n    Of men, whose graceless foot hath ridden\n    O'er things to human touch forbidden.\n    Godless who said so; sons shall rue\n       Their parents' folly,\n    Who flushed with wealth, with insolence flown,\n    The sober bliss of man outgrown,\n    The trump of Mars unchastened blew,\n    And stirred red strife without the hue\n       Of justice wholly.\n    Live wiselier thou, not waxing gross\n    With gain, thou shalt be free from loss.\n    Weak is his tower, with pampering wealth\n       In brief alliance\n    Who spurns great Justice' altar dread\n       With damned defiance;\n    Him the deep hell shall claim, and shame\n       His vain reliance.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n    Self-will fell At\u00e9's daughter,[n41] still\n       Fore-counselling ruin,\n    Shall spur him on resistless borne\n       To his undoing.\n    Fined with sharp loss beyond repairing,\n    His misery like a beacon flaring,\n    Shall shine to all. Like evil brass,\n    That tested shows a coarse black mass,\n    His deep distemper he shall show\n {54}\n       By dints of trial.\n    Even as a boy in wanton sport,[n42]\n    Chasing a bird to his own hurt,\n    And to the state's redeemless loss,\n    Whom, when he prays, the gods shall cross\n       With sheer denial,\n    And sweep the lewd and lawless liver\n    From earth's fair memory for ever;\n    Thus to the Atridans' palace came\n       False Alexander,\n    And shared the hospitable board,\n       A bold offender,\n    Filching his host's fair wife away\n       To far Scamander.\n\n STROPHE II.\n She went, and to the Argive city left\n     Squadrons shield-bearing,\n     Battle preparing,\n     Swords many-flashing,\n     Oars many-plashing;\n She went, destruction for her dowry bearing,\n     To the Sigean shore;\n Light with swift foot she brushed the doorstead, daring\n     A deed undared before.\n  The prophets of the house loud wailing,[n43]\n  Cried with sorrow unavailing,\n   \"Woe to the Atridans! woe!\n   The lofty palaces fallen low!\n   The marriage and the marriage bed,\n   The steps once faithful, fond to follow\n   There where the faithful husband led!\"\n He silent stood in sadness, not in wrath,[n44]\n    His own eye scarce believing,\n As he followed her flight beyond the path\n    Of the sea-wave broadly heaving.\n And phantoms sway each haunt well known,\n Which the lost loved one wont to own,\n And the statued forms that look from their seats\n    With a cold smile serenely,\n He loathes to look on; in his eye\n    Pines Aphrodit\u00e9[f16] leanly.\n\n {55}\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n  In vain he sleeps; for in the fretful night\n     Shapes of fair seeming\n     Flit through his dreaming,\n     Soothing him sweetly,\n     Leaving him fleetly\n Of bliss all barren. The shape fond fancy weaves him\n     His eager grasp would keep,\n In vain; it cheats the hand; and leaves him, sweeping\n     Swift o'er the paths of sleep.\n  These sorrows pierce the Atridan chiefs,\n  And, worse than these, their private griefs,\n  But general Greece that to the fray\n  Sent her thousands, mourns to-day;\n  And Grief stout-hearted at each door\n  Sits to bear the burden sore\n  Of deathful news from the Trojan shore.\n  Ah! many an Argive heart to-day\n  Is pricked with wail and mourning,\n  Knowing how many went to Troy,\n  From Troy how few returning!\n  The mothers of each house shall wait\n  To greet their sons at every gate;\n  But, alas! not men, but dust of men\n    Each sorrowing house receiveth,\n  The urn in which the fleshly case\n    Its cindered ruin leaveth.\n\n STROPHE III.\n For Mars doth market bodies, and for gold\n Gives dust, and in the battle of the bold\n    Holds the dread scales of Fate.\n Burnt cinders, a light burden, but to friends\n     A heavy freight,\n He sends from Troy; the beautiful vase he sends\n With dust, for hearts, well lined, on which descends\n     The frequent tear.\n And friends do wail their praise; thin here\n Expert to wield the pointed spear,\n And this who cast his life away,\n Nobly in ignoble fray,\n    For a strange woman's sake.\n  And in their silent hearts hate burns;\n {56}\n      Against the kings\n   The moody-muttered grudge creeps forth,\n      And points its stings.\n   Others they mourn who 'neath Troy's wall\n     Entombed, dark sleep prolong,\n   Low pressed beneath the hostile sod,\n     The beautiful, the strong!\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n O hard to bear, when evil murmurs fly,\n Is a nation's hate; unblest on whom doth lie\n     A people's curse!\n My heart is dark, in my fear-procreant brain\n     Bad begets worse.\n For not from heaven the gods behold in vain\n Hands red with slaughter. The black-mantled train[f17]\n     Who watch and wait,\n   In their own hour shall turn to bane\n   The bliss that grew from godless gain.\n   The mighty man with heart elate\n   Shall fall; even as the sightless shades,\n   The great man's glory fades.\n   Sweet to the ear is the popular cheer\n     Forth billowed loudly;\n   But the bolt from on high shall blast his eye[n45]\n     That looketh proudly.\n   Be mine the sober bliss, and far\n   From fortune's high-strung rapture;\n   Not capturing others, may I never\n   See my own city's capture!\n\n EPODE.\n   Swift-winged with thrilling note it came,\n   The blithe news from the courier-flame;\n   But whether true and witnessed well,\n   Or if some god hath forged a lie,\n      What tongue can tell?\n   Who is so young, so green of wit,\n   That his heart should blaze with a fever fit,\n   At a tale of this fire-courier's telling,\n   When a new rumour swiftly swelling,\n May turn him back to dole? To lift the note\n Of clamorous triumph ere the fight be fought,\n {57}\n   Is a light chance may fitly fall,\n   Where women wield the spear.[n46]\n A wandering word by woman's fond faith sped\n      Swells and increases,\n But with dispersion swift a woman's tale\n      Is lost and ceases.\n\n   [_Enter_ CLYTEMNESTRA.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Soon shall we know if the light-bearing lamps\n And the bright signals of the fiery changes\n Spake true or, dream-like, have deceived our sense\n With smiling semblance. For, behold, where comes,\n Beneath the outspread olive's branchy shade,\n A herald from the beach; and thirsty dust,\n Twin-sister of the clay, attests his speed.\n Not voiceless he, nor with the smoking flame\n Of mountain pine will bring uncertain news.\n His heraldry gives increase to our joy,\n Or--but to speak ill-omened words I shun;--\n May fair addition fair beginning follow!\n\n CHORUS.\n Whoso fears evil where no harm appears,\n Reap first himself the fruit of his own fears.\n\n   [_Enter_ HERALD.\n\n HERALD.\n Hail Argive land! dear fatherland, all hail!\n This tenth year's light doth shine on my return!\n And now this one heart's hope from countless wrecks\n I save! Scarce hoped I e'er to lay my bones\n Within the tomb where dearest dust is stored.\n I greet thee, native land! thee, shining sun!\n Thee, the land's Sovereign, Jove! thee, Pythian King,\n Shooting no more thy swift-winged shafts against us.\n Enough on red Scamander's banks we knew\n Thee hostile; now our saviour-god be thou,\n Apollo, and our healer from much harm![n47]\n And you, all gods that guide the chance of fight,\n I here revoke; and thee, my high protector,\n Loved Hermes, of all heralds most revered.\n And you, all heroes that sent forth our hosts,\n Bring back, I pray, our remnant with good omens.\n O kingly halls! O venerated seats!\n O dear-loved roofs, and ye sun-fronting gods,[n48]\n If ever erst, now on this happy day,\n With these bright-beaming eyes, duly receive\n {58}\n Your late returning king; for Agamemnon\n Comes, like the sun, a common joy to all.\n Greet him with triumph, as beseems the man,\n Who with the mattock of justice-bringing Jove\n Hath dug the roots of Troy, hath made its altars\n Things seen no more, its towering temples razed,\n And caused the seed of the whole land to perish.\n Such yoke on Ilium's haughty neck the elder\n Atridan threw, a king whom gods have blessed\n And men revere, 'mongst mortals worthy most\n Of honour; now nor Paris, nor in the bond\n Partner'd with him, old Troy more crime may boast\n Than penalty; duly in the court of fight,\n In the just doom of rape and robbery damned,\n His pledge is forfeited;[n49] his hand hath reaped\n Clean bare the harvest of all bliss from Troy.\n Doubly they suffer for a double crime.\n\n CHORUS.\n Hail soldier herald, how farest thou?\n\n HERALD.\n                                      Right well!\n So well that I could bless the gods and die.\n\n CHORUS.\n Doubtless thy love of country tried thy heart?\n\n HERALD.\n To see these shores I weep for very joy.\n\n CHORUS.\n And that soul-sickness sweetly held thee?\n\n HERALD.\n                                          How?\n Instruct my wit to comprehend thy words.\n\n CHORUS.\n Smitten with love of them that much loved thee.\n\n HERALD.\n Say'st thou? loved Argos us as we loved Argos?\n\n CHORUS.\n Ofttimes we sorrowed from a sunless soul.\n\n HERALD.\n How so? Why should the thought of the host have clouded\n Thy soul with sadness?\n\n CHORUS.\n                       Sorrow not causeless came;\n But I have learned to drug all woes by silence.\n\n HERALD.\n Whom should'st thou quail before, the chiefs away?\n\n CHORUS.\n I could have used thy phrase, and wished to die.\n\n HERALD.\n Die now, an' thou wilt, for joy! The rolling years\n Have given all things a prosperous end, though some\n Were hard to bear; for who, not being a god,\n Can hope to live long years of bliss unbroken?\n A weary tale it were to tell the tithe\n Of all our hardships; toils by day, by night,\n Harsh harbourage, hard hammocks, and scant sleep.\n No sun without new troubles, and new groans,\n {59}\n Shone on our voyage; and when at length we landed,\n Our woes were doubled; 'neath the hostile walls,\n On marshy meads night-sprinkled by the dews,\n We slept, our clothes rotted with drenching rain,\n And like wild beasts with shaggy-knotted hair.\n Why should I tell bird-killing winter's sorrows,\n Long months of suffering from Id\u00e9an snows,\n Then summer's scorching heat, when noon beheld\n The waveless sea beneath the windless air\n In sleep diffused; these toils have run their hour.\n The dead care not to rise; their roll our grief\n Would muster o'er in vain; and we who live\n Vainly shall fret at the cross strokes of fate.\n Henceforth to each harsh memory of the past\n Farewell! we who survive this long-drawn war\n Have gains to count that far outweigh the loss.\n Well may we boast in the face of the shining sun,\n O'er land and sea our winged tidings wafting,\n THE ACH\u00c6AN HOST HATH CAPTURED TROY; and now\n On the high temples of the gods we hang\n These spoils, a shining grace, there to remain\n An heritage for ever.[n50] These things to hear\n Shall men rejoice, and with fair praises laud\n The state and its great generals, laud the grace\n Of Jove the Consummator. I have said.\n\n CHORUS.\n I own thy speech the conqueror; for a man\n Can never be too old to learn good news,\n And though thy words touch Clytemnestra most,\n Joy to the Atridan's halls is wealth to me.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n I lifted first the shout of jubilee,\n Then when the midnight sign of the courier fire\n Told the deep downfall of the captured Troy;\n But one then mocked my faith, that I believed\n The fire-sped message in so true a tale.\n 'Tis a light thing to buoy a woman's heart\n With hopeful news, they cried; and with these words\n They wildered my weak wit. And yet I sped\n The sacrifice, and raised the welcoming shout\n In woman's wise, and at a woman's word\n Forthwith from street to street uprose to the gods\n Well-omened salutations, and glad hymns,\n Lulling the fragrant incense-feeding flame.\n What needs there more? The event has proved me right,\n {60}\n Himself--my lord--with his own lips shall speak\n The weighty tale; myself will go make ready\n With well-earned honour to receive the honoured.\n What brighter bliss on woman's lot may beam,\n Than when a god gives back her spouse from war,\n To ope the gates of welcome. Tell my husband,\n To his loved home, desired of all, to haste.\n A faithful wife, even as he left her, here\n He'll find expectant, like a watch-dog, gentle\n To him and his, to all that hate him harsh.\n The seals that knew his stamp, when hence he sailed,\n Unharmed remain, untouched: and for myself\n Nor praise nor blame from other man I know,\n No more than dyer's art can tincture brass.[n51]\n\n HERALD.\n A boast like this, instinct with very truth,\n Comes from a noble lady without blame.\n\n CHORUS.\n Wise words she spake, and words that need no comment\n To ears that understand. But say, good Herald,\n Comes Menelaus safe back from the wars,\n His kindly sway in Argos to resume?\n\n HERALD.\n I cannot gloss a lie with fair pretence;\n The best told lie bears but a short-lived fruit.\n\n CHORUS.\n Speak the truth plainly, if thou canst not pleasantly;\n These twain be seldom wedded; and here, alas!\n They stand out sundered with too clear a mark.\n\n HERALD.\n The man is vanished from the Ach\u00e6an host,\n He and his vessel. Thou hast heard the truth.\n\n CHORUS.\n Sailed he from Ilium separate from the fleet?\n Or did the tempest part him from his friends!\n\n HERALD.\n Like a good marksman thou hast hit the mark,\n In one short sentence summing many sorrows.\n\n CHORUS.\n Alive is he or dead? What word hath reached you?\n What wandering rumour from sea-faring men?\n\n HERALD.\n This none can tell, save yon bright sun aloft,\n That cherishes all things with his friendly light.\n\n CHORUS.\n How came the storm on the fleet? or how was ended\n The wrath of the gods?\n\n HERALD.\n                       Not well it suits to blot\n With black rehearsal this auspicious day.\n Far from the honors of the blissful gods[n52]\n Be grief's recital. When with gloomy visage\n An ugly tale the herald's voice unfolds,\n At once a general wound, and private grief,\n {61}\n An army lost, the sons of countless houses\n Death-doomed by the double scourge so dear to Ares,[f18]\n A twin-speared harm, a yoke of crimson slaughter:\n A herald saddled with such woes may sing\n A p\u00e6an to the Erinnyes. But I,\n Who to this city blithe and prosperous\n Brought the fair news of Agamemnon's safety,\n How shall I mingle bad with good, rehearsing\n The wintry wrath sent by the gods to whelm us?\n Fire and the sea, sworn enemies of old,[n53]\n Made friendly league to sweep the Ach\u00e6an host\n With swift destruction pitiless. Forth rushed\n The tyrannous Thracian blasts, and wave chased wave,\n Fierce 'neath the starless night, and ship on ship\n Struck clashing; beak on butting beak was driven;\n The puffing blast, the beat of boiling billows,\n The whirling gulph (an evil pilot) wrapt them\n In sightless death. And when the shining sun\n Shone forth again, we see the \u00c6gean tide\n Strewn with the purple blossoms of the dead,\n And wrecks of shattered ships. Us and our bark\n Some god, no man, the storm-tost hull directing,\n Hath rescued scathless, stealing us from the fray,\n Or with a prayer begging our life from Fate.\n Kind Fortune helmed us further, safely kept\n From yeasty ferment in the billowy bay,\n Nor dashed on far-ledged rocks. Thus having 'scaped\n That ocean hell,[n54] scarce trusting our fair fortune,\n We hailed the lucid day; but could we hope,\n The chance that saved ourselves had saved our friends?\n Our fearful hearts with thoughts of them we fed,\n Far-labouring o'er the loosely-driving main.[n55]\n And doubtless they, if yet live breath they breathe,\n Deem so of us, as we must fear of them,\n That they have perished. But I hope the best.\n And first and chief expect ye the return\n Of Menelaus. If the sun's blest ray\n Yet looks on him, where he beholds the day\n By Jove's devising,[n56] not yet willing wholly\n To uproot the race of Atreus, hope may be\n He yet returns. Thou hast my tale; and I\n Have told the truth untinctured with a lie. [_Exit_.\n\n {62}\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n      Who gave her a name\n      So true to her fame?\n Does a Providence rule in the fate of a word?\n Sways there in heaven a viewless power\n O'er the chance of the tongue in the naming hour?\n      Who gave her a name,\n     This daughter of strife, this daughter of shame,\n The spear-wooed maid of Greece?\n   Helen the taker![n57] 'tis plain to see\n   A taker of ships, a taker of men,\n     A taker of cities she.\n From the soft-curtained chamber of Hymen she fled,\n   By the breath of giant[n58] Zephyr sped,\n And shield-bearing throngs in marshalled array\n Hounded her flight o'er the printless way,\n     Where the swift-plashing oar\n      The fair booty bore\n   To swirling Simois' leafy shore,\n     And stirred the crimson fray.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n     For the gods sent a bride,\n      Kin but not kind,[n59]\n   Ripe with the counsel of wrath to Troy,\n In the fulness of years, the offender to prove,\n     And assert the justice of Jove;\n      For great Jove is lord\n Of the rights of the hearth and the festal board.\n      The sons of Priam sang\n   A song to the praise of the bride:\n From jubilant throats they praised her then,\n     The bride from Hellas brought;\n   But now the ancient city hath changed\n     Her hymn to a doleful note.\n She weeps bitter tears; she curses the head\n Of the woe-wedded Paris; she curses the bed\n      Of the beautiful bride\n      That crossed the flood,\n   And filched the life of her sons, and washed\n     Her wide-paved streets with blood.\n\n {63}\n\n STROPHE II.\n     Whoso nurseth the cub of a lion\n Weaned from the dugs of its dam, where the draught\n     Of its mountain-milk was free,\n   Finds it gentle at first and tame.\n   It frisks with the children in innocent game,\n     And the old man smiles to see;\n   It is dandled about like a babe in the arm,\n   It licketh the hand that fears no harm,\n   And when hunger pinches its fretful maw,\n     It fawns with an eager glee.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n But it grows with the years; and soon reveals\n   The fount of fierceness whence it came:\n   And, loathing the food of the tame,\n It roams abroad, and feasts in the fold,\n On feasts forbidden, and stains the floor\n   Of the house that nursed it with gore.\n A curse they nursed for their own undoing,\n A mouth by which their own friends shall perish;\n A servant of At\u00e9, a priest of Ruin,[n60]\n   Some god hath taught them to cherish.\n\n STROPHE III.\n Thus to Troy came a bride of the Spartan race,\n With a beauty as bland as a windless calm,\n     Prosperity's gentlest grace;\n And mild was love's blossom that rayed from her eye,\n The soft-winged dart that with pleasing pain\n      Thrills heart and brain.\n   But anon she changed: herself fulfilled\n      Her wedlock's bitter end;\n     A fatal sister, a fatal bride,\n      Her fateful head she rears;\n   Herself the Erinnys from Jove to avenge\n   The right of the injured host, and change\n      The bridal joy to tears.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n 'Twas said of old, and 'tis said to-day,\n That wealth to prosperous stature grown\n    Begets a birth of its own:\n That a surfeit of evil by good is prepared,\n {64}\n   And sons must bear what allotment of woe\n     Their sires were spared.\n   But this I rebel to believe: I know\n     That impious deeds conspire\n   To beget an offspring of impious deeds\n     Too like their ugly sire.\n But whoso is lust, though his wealth like a river\n Flow down, shall be scathless: his house shall rejoice\n     In an offspring of beauty for ever.\n\n STROPHE IV.\n   The heart of the haughty delights to beget\n   A haughty heart.[n61] From time to time\n   In children's children recurrent appears\n      The ancestral crime.\n When the dark hour comes that the gods have decreed,\n   And the Fury burns with wrathful fires,\n   A demon unholy, with ire unabated,\n   Lies like black night on the halls of the fated:\n   And the recreant son plunges guiltily on\n    To perfect the guilt of his sires.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n   But Justice shines in a lowly cell;\n   In the homes of poverty, smoke-begrimed,\n   With the sober-minded she loves to dwell.\n     But she turns aside\n   From the rich man's house with averted eye,\n   The golden-fretted halls of pride\n   Where hands with lucre are foul, and the praise\n   Of counterfeit goodness smoothly sways:\n   And wisely she guides in the strong man's despite\n    All things to an issue of RIGHT.\n\n CHORUS.\n      But, hail the king! the city-taking\n   Seed of Atreus' race.\n   How shall I accost thee! How\n   With beseeming reverence greet thee?\n   Nor above the mark, nor sinking\n     Beneath the line of grace?\n   Many of mortal men there be,\n   'Gainst the rule of right preferring\n   Seeming to substance; tears are free\n   In the eye when woe its tale rehearseth,\n   But the sting of sorrow pierceth\n {65}\n   No man's liver; many force\n   Lack-laughter faces to relax\n   Into the soft lines traced by joy.\n   But the shepherd true and wise\n   Knows the faithless man, whose eyes,\n   With a forward friendship twinkling,\n     Fawn with watery love.[n62]\n   For me, I nothing hide. O King,\n   In my fancy's picturing,\n   From the Muses far I deemed thee,\n   And thy soul not wisely helming\n     When thou drew'st the knife\n   For Helen's sake, a woman, whelming\n   Thousands in ruin, rushing rashly\n     On unwelcome strife.\n   But now all's well. No shallow smiles\n   We wear for thee, thy weary toils\n   All finished. Thou shalt know anon\n   What friends do serve thee truly,\n   And who in thy long absence used\n     Their stewardship unduly.\n\n   [_Enter_ AGAMEMNON. _with attendants_; CASSANDRA _behind_.\n\n AGAMEMNON.\n First Argos hail! and ye, my country's gods,\n Who worked my safe return, and nerved my arm\n With vengeance against Priam! for the gods,\n Taught by no glozing tongue, but by the sight\n Of their own eyes knew justice; voting ruin\n And men-destroying death to ancient Troy,\n Their fatal pebbles in the bloody urn\n Not doubtingly they dropt; the other vase,\n Unfed with hope of suffrage-bearing hand,\n Stood empty. Now the captured city's smoke\n Points where it fell. Raves Ruin's storm; the winds\n With crumbled dust and dissipated gold\n Float grossly laden. To the immortal gods\n These thanks, fraught with rich memory of much good,\n We pay; they taught our hands to spread the net\n With anger-whetted wit; a woman's frailty\n Laid bare old Ilium to the Argive bite,\n And with the setting Pleiads outleapt a birth\n Of strong shield-bearers from the fateful horse.\n A fierce flesh-tearing lion leapt their wails,\n {66}\n And licked a surfeit of tyrannic blood.\n This prelude to the gods. As for thy words\n Of friendly welcome, I return thy greeting,\n And as your thought, so mine; for few are gifted\n With such rich store of love, to see a friend\n Preferred and feel no envy; 'tis a disease\n Possessing mortal men, a poison lodged\n Close by the heart, eating all joy away\n With double barb--has own mischance who suffers\n And bliss of others sitting at his gate,\n Which when he sees he groans. I know it well;\n They who seemed most my friends, and many seemed,\n Were but the mirrored show, the shadowy ghost\n Of something like to friendship, substanceless.\n Ulysses only, most averse to sail,\n Was still most ready an the yoke with me\n To bear the harness; living now or dead,\n This praise I frankly give him. For the rest,\n The city and the gods, we will take counsel\n In full assembly freely. What is good\n We will give heed that it be lasting; where\n Disease the cutting or the caustic cure\n Demands, we will apply it. I, meanwhile,\n My hearth and home salute, and greet the gods,\n Who, as they sent me to the distant fray,\n Have brought me safely back. Fair victory,\n Once mine, may she dwell with me evermore!\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Men! Citizens! ye reverend Argive seniors,\n No shame feel I, even in your face, to tell\n My husband-loving ways. Long converse lends\n Boldness to bashfulness. No foreign griefs,\n Mine own self-suffered woes I tell. While he\n Was camping far at Ilium, I at home\n Sat all forlorn, uncherished by the mate\n Whom I had chosen; this was woe enough\n Without enforcement; but, to try me further,\n A host of jarring rumours stormed my doors,\n Each fresh recital with a murkier hue\n Than its precedent; and I must hear all.\n If this my lord, had borne as many wounds\n In battle as the bloody fame recounted,\n He had been pierced throughout even as a net;\n And had he died as oft as Rumour slew him,\n {67}\n He might have boasted of a triple coil[n63]\n Like the three-bodied Geryon, while on earth\n (Of him below I speak not), and like him\n Been three times heaped with a cloak of funeral dust.\n Thus fretted by cross-grained reports, oft-times\n The knotted rope high-swung had held my neck,\n But that my friends with forceful aid prevented.\n Add that my son, pledge of our mutual vows,\n Orestes is not here; nor think it strange.\n Thy Phocian spear-guest,[n64] the most trusty Strophius,\n Took him in charge, a twofold danger urging\n First thine beneath the walls of Troy, and further\n The evil likelihood that, should the Greeks\n Be worsted in the strife, at home the voice\n Of many-babbling anarchy might cast\n The council down, and as man's baseness is,\n At fallen greatness insolently spurn.\n Moved by these thoughts I parted with my boy,\n And for no other cause. Myself the while\n So woe-worn lived, the fountains of my grief\n To their last drop were with much weeping drained;\n And far into the night my watch I've kept\n With weary eyes, while in my lonely room\n The night-torch faintly glimmered. In my dream\n The buzzing gnat, with its light-brushing wing,\n Startled the fretful sleeper; thou hast been\n In waking hours, as in sleep's fitful turns\n My only thought. But having bravely borne\n This weight of woe, now with blithe heart I greet\n Thee, my heart's lord, the watch-dog of the fold,\n The ship's sure mainstay, pillared shaft whereon\n Rests the high roof, fond parent's only child,\n Land seen by sailors past all hope, a day\n Lovely to look on when the storm hath broken,\n And to the thirsty wayfarer the flow\n Of gushing rill. O sweet it is, how sweet\n To see an end of the harsh yoke that galled us!\n These greetings to my lord; nor grudge me, friends,\n This breadth of welcome; sorrows we have known\n Ample enough. And now, thou precious head,\n Come from thy car; nay, do not set thy foot,\n The foot that trampled Troy, on common clay.\n What ho! ye laggard maids! why lags your task\n {68}\n Behind the hour? Spread purple where he treads.\n Fitly the broidered foot-cloth marks his path,\n Whom Justice leadeth to his long-lost home\n With unexpected train. What else remains\n Our sleepless zeal, with favour of the gods,\n Shall order as befits.\n\n AGAMEMNON.\n Daughter of Leda, guardian of my house!\n Almost thou seem'st to have spun thy welcome out\n To match my lengthened absence; but I pray thee\n Praise with discretion, and let other mouths\n Proclaim my p\u00e6ans. For the rest, abstain\n From delicate tendance that would turn my manhood\n To woman's temper. Not in barbaric wise\n With prostrate reverence base, kissing the ground,\n Mouth sounding salutations; not with purple,\n Breeder of envy, spread my path. Such honors\n Suit the immortal gods; me, being mortal,\n To tread on rich-flowered carpetings wise fear\n Prohibits. As a man, not as a god,\n Let me be honored. Not the less my fame\n Shall be far blazoned, that on common earth\n I tread untapestried. A sober heart\n Is the best gift of God; call no man happy\n Till death hath found him prosperous to the close.\n For me, if what awaits me fall not worse\n Than what hath fallen, I have good cause to look\n Bravely on fate.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n                 Nay, but my good lord will not\n In this gainsay my heart's most warm desire.\n\n AGAMEMNON.\n My wish and will thou shalt not lightly mar.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Hast thou a vow belike, and fear'st the gods?\n\n AGAMEMNON.\n If e'er man knew, I know my will in this.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Had Priam conquered, what had Priam done?\n\n AGAMEMNON.\n His feet had trod the purple; doubt it not.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n What Priam would, thou may'st, unless the fear\n Of popular blame make Agamemnon quail.\n\n AGAMEMNON.\n But popular babble strengthens Envy's wing.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Thou must be envied if thou wilt be great.\n\n AGAMEMNON.\n Is it a woman's part to hatch contention?\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n For once be conquered; they who conquer may\n Yield with a grace.\n\n AGAMEMNON.\n                    And thou in this vain strife\n Must be perforce the conqueror; is it so?\n\n {69}\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n 'Tis even so: for once give me the reins.\n\n AGAMEMNON.\n Thou hast thy will. Come, boy, unbind these sandals,[n65]\n That are the prostrate subjects to my feet,\n When I do tread; for with shod feet I never\n May leave my print on the sea-purple, lest\n Some god with jealous eye look from afar\n And mark me. Much I fear with insolent foot\n To trample wealth, and rudely soil the web\n Whose precious threads the pure-veined silver buys.\n So much for this. As for this maid, receive\n The stranger kindly: the far-seeing gods\n Look down with love on him who mildly sways.\n For never yet was yoke of slavery borne\n By willing neck; of all the captive maids\n The choicest flower she to my portion fell.\n And now, since thou art victor o'er my will,\n I tread the purple to my father's hall.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n The wide sea flows; and who shall dry it up?\n The ocean flows, and in its vasty depths\n Is brewed the purple's die, as silver precious,\n A tincture ever-fresh for countless robes.\n But Agamemnon's house is not a beggar;\n With this, and with much more the gods provide us;\n And purple I had vowed enough to spread\n The path of many triumphs, had a god\n Given me such 'hest oracular to buy\n The ransom of thy life. We have thee now,\n Both root and trunk, a tree rich leafage spreading\n To shade this mansion from the Sirian dog.\n Welcome, thou double blessing! to this hearth\n That bringest heat against keen winter's cold,\n And coolness when the sweltering Jove prepares\n Wine from the crudeness of the bitter grape;\n Enter the house, made perfect by thy presence.\n Jove, Jove, the perfecter! perfect thou my vow,[n66]\n And thine own counsels quickly perfect thou! [_Exeunt_.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n   Whence these shapes of fear that haunt me?\n     These hovering portents why?\n     Is my heart a seer inspired,\n   To chaunt unbidden and unhired[n67]\n {70}\n      Notes of dark prophecy?\n   Blithe confidence, my bosom's lord,[f19]\n     That swayed the doubtful theme,\n   Arise, and with thy clear command\n     Chase the vain-vexing dream!\n   Long years have rolled; and still I fear,\n     As when the Argive band\n   Unloosed their cables from the shore,[n68]\n   And eager plied the frequent oar\n     To the far Ilian strand.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n   Now they return: my vouching eyes\n     To prop my faith conspire,\n   And yet my heart, in self-taught hymns,\n   As with a Fury's burden brims,\n     And will not own the lyre.\n   I fear, I fear: the bold-faced Hope\n     Hath left my heart all drear;\n   And my thought, not idly tossed within,\n     Feels evil creeping near.\n   For the heart hath scent of things to come\n     And prophesies by fear;\n   And yet I pray, may all conspire\n   To prove my boding heart a liar,\n     And me a foolish seer.\n\n STROPHE II.\n   Full-blooded health, that in the veins\n     With lusty pulses hotly wells,\n   Shall soon have check. Disease beside it\n     Wall to wall, ill-sundered, dwells.\n   The proud trireme, with sudden shock,\n   In its mid career, on a sunken rock\n     Strikes, and all is lost.\n   Yet there is hope; the ship may rein\n   Its plunge, from whelming ruin free,\n   If with wise sling the merchant fling\n     Into the greedy sea\n   A part to save the whole. And thus\n   Jove, that two-handed stores for us,\n     In our mid woe may pause,\n {71}\n   Heap gifts on gifts from yearly furrows,\n   And save the house from swamping sorrows,\n     And lean starvation's jaws.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n   But, oh! when black blood stains the ground,\n     And the mortal mortal lies,\n   Shall the dead hear when thou chauntest?\n     To thy charming shall he rise?\n     Once there was a leech so wise\n   Could raise the dead,[f20] but, from the skies,\n      Struck by Jove, he ceased.\n   But cease my song. Were link with link\n   In the chain of things not bound together[n69]\n   That each event must wait its time,\n     Nor one dare trip the other,\n   My tongue had played the prophet's part,\n   And rolled the burden from my heart;\n     But now, to doubt resigned,\n   With smothered fears, all dumb I wait\n   The unravelling hour; while sparks of fate\n     Flit through my darksome mind.\n\n   [_Enter_ CLYTEMNESTRA.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Come thou, too, in; this maid, I mean; Cassandra!\n For not in wrath Jove sent thee here to share\n Our family lustrations, and to stand,\n With many slaves, beside the household altar.[n70]\n Step from this car, nor bear thy spirit proudly\n Above thy fate, for even Alcmena's son,\n To slavery sold, once bore the hated yoke.\n What must be, must be; rather thank the chance\n That gave thee to an old and wealthy house;\n For they who reap an unexpected growth\n Of wealth, are harsh to slaves beyond the line\n Of a well-tempered rule. Here thou shalt find\n The common use of bondage.\n\n CHORUS.\n                           Plainly she speaks;\n And thou within Fate's iron toils once caught\n Wert wise to go--if go thou wilt--but, soothly,\n Thou hast no willing look.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n                           Nay! an' she be not\n Barbarian to the bone, and speaking nought\n {72}\n Save swallow jabber,[f21] she shall hear my voice.\n I'll pierce her marrow with it.\n\n CHORUS.\n                                Captive maid,\n Obey! thou shouldst; 'tis best; be thou persuaded\n To leave thy chariot-seat and follow her.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n No time have I to stand without the gate\n Prating with her. Within, on the central hearth,\n The fire burns bright, the sheep's fat slaughter waiting,\n To furnish forth a banquet that transcends\n The topmost of our hopes. Wilt thou obey,\n Obey me quickly! If with stubborn sense\n Thou hast nor ear to hear, nor voice to speak,\n Answer my sign with thy barbarian hand.\n\n CHORUS.\n A wise interpreter the maid demands;\n Like a wild beast new caught, even so she stands.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Ay! she is mad; her wit to sober counsels\n Is deaf; she comes from the new-captured city,\n Untaught to bear the Argive bit with patience,\n But foams and dashes bloody froth. I will not\n Make myself base by wasting words on her. [_Exit_.\n\n CHORUS.\n Poor maid, I may not blame; I pity thee.\n Come, leave thy seat; for, though the yoke be strange,\n Necessity compels, and thou must bear it.\n\n STROPHE I.\n CASSANDRA.\n Ah! ah! woe's me! woe! woe!\n     Apollo! O Apollo!\n\n CHORUS.\n Why dost thou waft to Loxias?[f22] is he\n A gloomy god that he should list sad tales?\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n CASSANDRA.\n Ah! ah! woe's me! woe! woe!\n     Apollo! O Apollo!\n\n CHORUS.\n Again with evil-omened voice she cries\n Upon the god least fit to wait on woe.\n\n STROPHE II.\n CASSANDRA.\n Apollo! Apollo!\n My way-god, my leader Apollo![n71]\n     Apollo the destroyer!\n Thou with light labour hast destroyed me quite.\n\n {73}\n\n CHORUS.\n Strange oracles against herself she speaks;\n Ev'n in the bondsman's bosom dwells the god.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n CASSANDRA.\n Apollo! Apollo!\n Apollo, my leader, whither hast thou led me?[n72]\n     My way-god, Apollo?\n What homes receive thy captive prophetess?\n\n CHORUS.\n The Atrid\u00e6's homes. This, an' thou knowst it not,\n I tell thee; and the words I speak are true.\n\n STROPHE III.\n CASSANDRA.\n Ha! the house of the Atrid\u00e6![f23]\n  Well the godless house I know,\n With the dagger and the rope,\n  And the self-inflicted blow!\n Where red blood is on the floor,\n And black murder at the door--\n  This house--this house I know.\n\n CHORUS.\n She scents out slaughter, mark me, like a hound,\n And tracks the spot where she shall feast on blood.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n CASSANDRA.\n Ay! I scent a truthful scent,\n  And the thing I say I know.\n See! see! these weeping children,\n  How they vouch the monstrous woe!\n Their red wounds are bleeding fresh,\n And their father eats their flesh,\n  This bloody house I know.\n\n CHORUS.\n The fame of thy divinings far renowned\n Have reached us, but we wish no prophets here.\n\n STROPHE IV.\n CASSANDRA.\n     Ha! ha! what plots she now!\n     A new sorrow, a new snare\n     To the house of the Atrid\u00e6,\n     And a burden none may bear!\n     A black harm to all and each,\n     A disease that none may leech,\n     And the evil plot to mar\n     All help and hope is far.\n\n {74}\n\n CHORUS.\n Nay now I'm lost and mazed in vain surmise.\n What first she said I knew--the common rumour.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n CASSANDRA.\n     Ha! woman wilt thou dare?\n     Thy bed's partner and thy mate\n     In the warm refreshing bath\n     Shall he find his bloody fate?\n     How shall I dare to say\n     What comes and will not stay?\n     See, to do her heart's command\n     Where she stretches her red hand!\n\n CHORUS.\n Not yet I understand: through riddles dark\n And cloudy oracles my wits are wandering.\n\n STROPHE V.\n CASSANDRA.\n     Ha! what bloody sight is this!\n     'Tis a net of Hades spread--\n     'Tis a snare to snare her lord,\n     The fond sharer of her bed.\n     The black chorus of the place[f24]\n     Shout for vengeance o'er the race,\n     Whose offence cries for atoning,\n     With a heavy death of stoning!\n\n STROPHE VI.\n CHORUS.\n   What black Fury of the place\n   Shall shout vengeance o'er the race?\n   Such strange words I hate to hear.\n   The blithe blood, that crimson ran[n73]\n   In my veins, runs pale and wan\n     With the taint of yellow fear,\n   As when in the mortal anguish,[n74]\n   Life's last fitful glimpses languish\n     And Fate, as now, is near!\n\n ANTISTROPHE V.\n CASSANDRA.\n   Ha! ha! the work proceeds!\n   From the bull keep back the cow!\n   Lo! now she seizes him\n   By the strong black horn,[n75] and now\n   She hath wrapt him round with slaughter;\n   She strikes! and in the water\n   Of the bath he falls. Mark well,\n   In the bath doth murder dwell.\n\n {75}\n\n ANTISTROPHE VI.\n CHORUS.\n   No prophetic gift is mine\n   The dark saying to divine,\n   But this sounds like evil quite;\n   For to mortal man was never\n   The diviner's voice the giver\n   Of a message of delight,\n   But in words of mazy mourning,\n   Comes the prophet's voice of warning,\n     With a lesson of affright.\n\n STROPHE VII.\n CASSANDRA.\n   Fill the cup, and brim the woe!\n     'Tis my own heart's blood must flow.\n      Me! miserable me!\n   From old Troy why didst thou bring me,\n   Poor captive maid, to sing thee\n     Thy dirge, and die with thee?\n\n STROPHE VIII.\n CHORUS.\n   By a god thou art possessed,\n   And he raveth in thy breast,\n   And he sings a song of thee\n   That hath music, but no glee.\n   Like a dun-plumed nightingale,[f25]\n   That, with never-sated wail,\n   Crieth Itys! Itys! aye,[n76]\n   As it scatters, in sweet flow,\n   The thick blossoms of its woe,[n77]\n   So singest thou to-day.\n\n ANTISTROPHE VII.\n CASSANDRA.\n   Ah! the clear-toned nightingale!\n   Mellow bird, thou dost not wail,[f26]\n     For the good gods gave to thee\n   A light shape of fleetest winging,\n   A bright life of sweetest singing,\n     But a sharp-edged death to me.\n\n {76}\n\n ANTISTROPHE VIII.\n CHORUS.\n   By a god thou art possessed,\n   And he goads thee without rest,\n   And he racks thy throbbing brain\n   With a busy-beating pain,\n   And he presses from thy throat\n   The heavy struggling note,\n   And the cry that rends the air.\n   Who bade her tread this path,\n   With the prophecy of wrath,\n   And the burden of despair?\n\n STROPHE IX.\n CASSANDRA.\n   O the wedlock and the woe\n   Of the evil Alexander,\n   To his chiefest friends a foe!\n   O my native stream Scamander,\n   Where in youth I wont to wander,\n   And was nursed for future woes,\n   Where thy swirling current flows!\n   But now on sluggish shore\n   Of Cocytus I shall pour,\n   'Mid the Acherusian glades,\n   My divinings to the shades.\n\n STROPHE X.\n CHORUS.\n   Nothing doubtful is the token;\n   For the words the maid hath spoken\n     To a very child are clear.\n   She hath pierced me to the marrow;\n   And her cry of shrieking sorrow\n     Ah! it crushes me to hear.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IX.\n CASSANDRA.\n   The proud city lieth lowly,\n   Nevermore to rise again!\n   It is lost and ruined wholly;\n   And before the walls in vain\n   Hath my pious father slain\n   Many meadow-cropping kine,\n   To appease the wrath divine.\n   Where it lieth it shall lie,\n   Ancient Ilium: and I\n {77}\n   On the ground, when all is past,\n   Soon my reeking heart shall cast.[n78]\n\n ANTISTROPHE X.\n CHORUS.\n Ah! the mighty god, wrath-laden,\n He hath smote the burdened maiden\n   With a weighty doom severe.\n From her heart sharp cries he wringeth,\n Dismal, deathful stratus she singeth,\n   And I wait the end in fear.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n No more my prophecy, like a young bride\n Shall from a veil peep forth, but like a wind\n Waves shall it dash from the west in the sun's face,[n79]\n And curl high-crested surges of fierce woes,\n That far outbillow mine. I'll speak no more\n In dark enigmas. Ye my vouchers be,\n While with keen scent I snuff the breath of the past,\n And point the track of monstrous crimes of eld.\n There is a choir, to destiny well-tuned,\n Haunts these doomed halls, no mellow-throated choir,\n And they of human blood have largely drunk:\n And by that wine made bold, the Bacchanals\n Cling to their place of revels. The sister'd Furies\n Sit on these roofs, and hymn the prime offence\n Of this crime-burthened race; the brother's sin\n That trod the brother's bed.[f27] Speak! do I hit\n The mark, a marksman true? or do I beat\n Your doors, a babbling beggar prophesying\n False dooms for hire? Be ye my witnesses,\n And with an oath avouch, how well I know\n The hoary sins that hang upon these walls.\n\n CHORUS.\n Would oaths make whole our ills, though I should wedge them\n As stark as ice?[n80] But I do marvel much\n That thou, a stranger born, from distant seas,\n Dost know our city as it were thine own.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n Even this to know, Apollo stirred my breast.\n\n CHORUS.\n Apollo! didst thou strike the god with love?\n\n CASSANDRA.\n Till now I was ashamed to hint the tale.\n\n CHORUS.\n The dainty lips of nice prosperity\n Misfortune opens.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n                  Like a wrestler he\n Strove for my love; he breathed his grace upon me.\n\n {78}\n\n CHORUS.\n And hast thou children from divine embrace?\n\n CASSANDRA.\n I gave the word to Loxias, not the deed.\n\n CHORUS.\n Hadst thou before received the gift divine?\n\n CASSANDRA.\n I had foretold my countrymen all their woes.\n\n CHORUS.\n Did not the anger of the god pursue thee?\n\n CASSANDRA.\n It did; I warned, but none believed my warning.\n\n CHORUS.\n To us thou seem'st to utter things that look\n Only too like the truth.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n                         Ah me! woe! woe!\n Again strong divination's troublous whirl\n Seizes my soul, and stirs my labouring breast\n With presages of doom. Lo! where they sit,\n These pitiful young ones on the fated roof,\n Like to the shapes of dreams! The innocent babes,\n Butchered by friends that should have blessed them, and\n In their own hands their proper bowels they bear,\n Banquet abhorred, and their own father eats it.[f28]\n This deed a lion, not a lion-hearted\n Shall punish; wantonly in her bed, whose lord\n Shall pay the heavy forfeit, he shall roll,\n And snare my master--woe's me, even _my_ master,\n For slavery's yoke my neck must learn to own.\n Ah! little weens the leader of the ships,\n Troy's leveller, how a hateful bitch's tongue,\n With long-drawn phrase, and broad-sown smile, doth weave\n His secret ruin. This a woman dares;\n The female mars the male. Where shall I find\n A name to name such monster? dragon dire,\n Rock-lurking Scylla, the vexed seaman's harm,\n Mother of Hades, murder's M\u00e6nad, breathing\n Implacable breath of curses on her kin.[f81]\n All-daring woman! shouting in her heart,\n As o'er the foe, when backward rolls the fight,\n Yet hymning kindliest welcome with her tongue.\n Ye look mistrustful; I am used to that.\n That comes which is to come; and ye shall know\n Full soon, with piteous witness in your eyes,\n How true, and very true, Cassandra spake.\n\n CHORUS.\n Thyestes' banquet, and his children's flesh\n I know, and shudder; strange that she should know\n The horrors of that tale; but for the rest\n She runs beyond my following.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n                              Thus I said;\n {79}\n Thine eyes shall witness Agamemnon's death\n\n CHORUS.\n Hush, wretched maiden! lull thy tongue to rest,\n And cease from evil-boding words!\n\n CASSANDRA.\n                                  Alas!\n The gods that heal all evil, heal not this.\n\n CHORUS.\n If it must be; but may the gods forefend!\n\n CASSANDRA.\n Pray thou, and they will have more time to kill.\n\n CHORUS.\n What man will dare to do such bloody deed?\n\n CASSANDRA.\n I spake not of a _man_: thy thoughts shoot wide.\n\n CHORUS.\n The deed I heard, but not whose hand should do it.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n And yet I spake good Greek with a good Greek tongue.\n\n CHORUS.\n Thou speakest Apollo's words: true, but obscure.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n Ah me! the god! like fire within my breast\n Burns the Lyc\u00e9an god.[f29] Ah me! pain! pain!\n A lioness two-footed with a wolf\n Is bedded, when the noble lion roamed\n Far from his den; and she will murder me.\n She crowns the cup of wrath; she whets the knife\n Against the neck of the man, and he must pay\n The price of capture, I of being captive.\n Vain gauds, that do but mock my grief, farewell!\n This laurel-rod, and this diviner's wreath\n About my neck, should they outlive the wearer?\n Away! As ye have paid me, I repay.\n Make rich some other prophetess with woe!\n Lo! where Apollo looks, and sees me now\n Doff this diviner's garb, the self-same weeds\n He tricked me erst withal, to live for him,\n The public scorn, the scoff of friends and foes,\n The mark of every ribald jester's tongue,\n The homeless girl, the raving mountebank,\n The beggar'd, wretched, starving maniac.\n And now who made the prophetess unmakes her,\n And leads me to my doom--ah! not beside\n My father's altar doomed to die! the block\n From my hot life shall drink the purple stain.\n But we shall fall not unavenged: the gods\n A mother-murdering shoot shall send from far\n To avenge his sire; the wanderer shall return\n To pile the cope-stone on these towering woes.\n The gods in heaven a mighty oath have sworn,\n To raise anew the father's prostrate fate\n By the son's arm.--But why stand here, and beat\n {80}\n The air with cries, seeing what I have seen;\n When Troy hath fallen, suffering what it suffered,\n And they who took the city by the doom\n Of righteous gods faring as they shall fare?\n I will endure to die, and greet these gates\n Of Hades gaping for me. Grant me, ye gods,\n A mortal stroke well-aimed, and a light fall\n From cramped convulsion free! Let the red blood\n Flow smoothly from its fount, that I may close\n These eyes in peaceful death.\n\n CHORUS.\n                              O hapless maid!\n And wise as hapless! thou hast spoken long!\n But if thou see'st the harm, why rush on fate\n Even as an ox, whom favouring gods inspire\n To stand by the altar's steps, and woo the knife.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n I'm in the net. Time will not break the meshes.\n\n CHORUS.\n But the last moment of sweet life is honoured.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n My hour is come; what should I gain by flight?\n\n CHORUS.\n Thou with a stout heart bravely look'st on fate.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n Bravely thou praisest: but the happy hear not\n Such commendations.[n82]\n\n CHORUS.\n                    Yet if death must come,\n His fame is fair who nobly fronts the foe.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n Woe's me, the father and his noble children!\n\n CHORUS.\n Whither now? What father and what children? Speak.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n (_Approaching and starting back from the house_.)\n Woe! woe!\n\n CHORUS.\n What means this WOE? What horrid fancy scares thee?\n\n CASSANDRA.\n Blood-dripping murder reeks from yonder house.\n\n CHORUS.\n How? 'Tis the scent of festal sacrifice.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n The scent of death--a fragrance from the grave.\n\n CHORUS.\n Soothly no breath of Syrian nard she names.\n\n CASSANDRA.\n But now the time is come. I go within\n To wail for Agamemnon and myself.\n I've done with life. Farewell! My vouchers ye,\n Not with vain screaming, like a fluttering bird,[n83]\n Above the bush I cry. Yourselves shall know it\n Then when, for me a woman, a woman dies,\n And for a man ill-wived a man shall fall\n Trust me in this. Your honest faith is all\n The Trojan guest, the dying woman, craves.\n\n CHORUS.\n O wretched maid! O luckless prophetess!\n\n CASSANDRA.\n Yet will I speak one other word, before\n {81}\n I leave this light. Hear thou my vows, bright sun,\n And, though a slave's death be a little thing,\n Send thou the avenging hand with full requital,\n To pay my murderers back, as they have paid.\n Alas! the fates of men! their brightest bloom\n A shadow blights; and, in their evil day,\n An oozy sponge blots out their fleeting prints,\n And they are seen no more. From bad to worse\n Our changes run, and with the worst we end.[n84] [_Exit_.\n\n CHORUS.\n Men crave increase of riches ever\n With insatiate craving. Never\n From the finger-pointed halls\n Of envied wealth their owner calls,\n \"Enter no more! I have enough!\"\n This man the gods with honour crowned;\n He hath levelled with the ground\n Priam's city, and in triumph\n Glorious home returns;\n But if doomed the fine to pay\n Of ancient guilt, and death with death\n   To guerdon in the end,\n Who of mortals will not pray,[n85]\n From high-perched Fortune's favour far,\n   A blameless life to spend.\n\n AGAMEMNON.\n (_From within_.)\n O I am struck! struck with a mortal blow!\n\n CHORUS.\n Hush! what painful voice is speaking there of strokes and mortal blows?\n\n AGAMEMNON.\n O struck again! struck with a mortal blow!\n\n CHORUS.\n 'Tis the king that groans; the work, the bloody work, I fear, is doing.\n Weave we counsel now together, and concert a sure design.[n86]\n\n 1st CHORUS.\n I give my voice to lift the loud alarm,\n And rouse the city to besiege the doors.\n\n 2nd CHORUS.\n Rather forthwith go in ourselves, and prove\n The murderer with the freshly-dripping blade.\n\n 3rd CHORUS.\n I add my pebble to thine. It is not well\n That we delay. Fate hangs upon the moment.\n\n 4th CHORUS.\n The event is plain, with this prelusive blood\n They hang out signs of tyranny to Argos.\n\n 5th CHORUS.\n Then why stay we? Procrastination they\n Tramp underfoot; they sleep not with their hands.\n\n 6th CHORUS.\n Not so. When all is dark, shall we unwisely\n Rush blindfold on an unconsulted deed?\n\n {82}\n\n 7th CHORUS.\n Thou speakest well. If he indeed be dead,\n Our words are vain to bring him back from Hades.\n\n 8th CHORUS.\n Shall we submit to drag a weary life\n Beneath the shameless tyrants of this house?\n\n 9th CHORUS.\n Unbearable! and better far to die!\n Death is a gentler lord than tyranny.\n\n 10th CHORUS.\n First ask we this, if to have heard a groan\n Gives a sure augury that the man is dead.\n\n 11th CHORUS.\n Wisdom requires to probe the matter well:\n To guess is one thing, and to know another.\n\n 12th CHORUS.\n So wisely spoken.[n87] With full-voiced assent\n Inquire we first how Agamemnon fares.\n\n   [_The scene opens from behind, and discovers_ CLYTEMNESTRA _standing\n   over the dead bodies of_ AGAMEMNON _and_ CASSANDRA.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n I spoke to you before; and what I spoke\n Suited the time; nor shames me now to speak\n Mine own refutal. For how shall we entrap\n Our foe, our seeming friend, in scapeless ruin,\n Save that we fence him round with nets too high\n For his o'erleaping? What I did, I did\n Not with a random inconsiderate blow,\n But from old Hate, and with maturing Time.\n Here, where I struck, I take my rooted stand,\n Upon the finished deed:[n88] the blow so given,\n And with wise forethought so by me devised,\n That flight was hopeless, and to ward it vain.\n With many-folding net, as fish are caught,\n I drew the lines about him, mantled round\n With bountiful destruction; twice I struck him,\n And twice he groaning fell with limbs diffused\n Upon the ground; and as he fell, I gave\n The third blow, sealing him a votive gift\n To gloomy Hades, saviour of the dead.\n And thus he spouted forth his angry soul,\n Bubbling a bitter stream of frothy slaughter,\n And with the dark drops of the gory dew\n Bedashed me; I delighted nothing less\n Than doth the flowery calix, full surcharged\n With fruity promise, when Jove's welkin down\n Distils the rainy blessing. Men of Argos,\n Rejoice with me in this, or, if ye will not,\n {83}\n Then do I boast alone. If e'er 'twas meet\n To pour libations to the dead, he hath them\n In justest measure. By most righteous doom,\n Who drugged the cup with curses to the brim,\n Himself hath drunk damnation to the dregs.\n\n CHORUS.\n Thou art a bold-mouthed woman. Much we marvel\n To hear thee boast thy husband's murder thus.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Ye tempt me as a woman, weak, unschooled.\n But what I say, ye know, or ought to know,\n I say with fearless heart. Your praise or blame\n Is one to me. Here Agamemnon lies,\n My husband, dead, the work of this right hand--\n The hand of a true workman. Thus it stands.\n\n STROPHE.\n CHORUS.\n Woman! what food on wide earth growing\n Hast thou eaten of? What draught\n From the briny ocean quaffed,\n That for such deed the popular breath\n Of Argos should with curses crown thee,\n As a victim crowned for death?\n Thou hast cast off: thou hast cut off\n Thine own husband:[n89] thou shalt be\n From the city of the free\n Thyself a cast-off: justly hated\n With staunch hatred unabated.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n My sentence thou hast spoken; shameful flight,\n The citizens' hate, the people's vengeful curse:\n For him thou hast no curse, the bloody man\n Who, when the fleecy flocks innumerous pastured,\n Passed the brute by, and sacrificed my child,\n My best-beloved, fruit of my throes, to lull\n The Thracian blasts asleep. Why did thy wrath,\n In righteous guerdon of this foulest crime,\n Not chase this man from Greece? A greedy ear\n And a harsh tongue thou hast for me alone.\n But mark my words,[n90] threats I repay with threats;\n If that thou canst subdue me in fair fight,\n Subdue me; but if Jove for me decide,\n Thou shalt be wise, when wisdom comes too late.\n\n ANTISTROPHE.\n CHORUS.\n Thou art high and haughty-hearted,\n And from lofty thoughts within thee\n {84}\n Mighty words are brimming o'er:\n For thy sober sense is madded\n With the purple-dripping gore;\n And thine eyes with fatness swell[n91]\n From bloody feasts: but mark me well,\n Time shall come, avenging Time,\n And hunt thee out, and track thy crime:\n Then thou, when friends are far, shalt know\n Stroke for stroke, and blow for blow.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Hear thou this oath, that seals my cause with right:\n By sacred Justice, perfecting revenge,\n By At\u00e9, and the Erinnys of my child,\n To whom I slew this man, I shall not tread\n The threshold of pale Fear, the while doth live\n \u00c6gisthus, now, as he hath been, my friend,\n Stirring the flame that blazes on my hearth,\n My shield of strong assurance. For the slain,\n Here lieth he that wronged a much-wronged woman,\n Sweet honey-lord of Trojan Chryseids.\n And for this spear-won maid, this prophetess,\n This wise diviner, well-beloved bed-fellow,\n And trusty messmate of great Agamemnon,\n She shares his fate, paying with him the fee\n Of her own sin, and like a swan hath sung\n Her mortal song beside him. She hath been\n Rare seasoning added to my banquet rare.\n\n STROPHE I.[n92]\n CHORUS.\n O would some stroke of Fate--no dull disease\n     Life's strings slow-rending,\n No bed-bound pain--might bring, my smart to soothe,\n     The sleep unending!\n For he, my gracious lord, my guide, is gone,\n     Beyond recalling;\n Slain for a woman's cause, and by the hands\n     Of woman falling.\n\n STROPHE II.\n     O Helen! Helen! phrenzied Helen,\n     Many hearts of thee are telling\n     Damned destruction thou hast done,\n     There where thousands fell for one\n       'Neath the walls of Troy!\n\n {85}\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n     Bloomed from thee the blossom gory\n     Of famous Agamemnon's glory;\n     Thou hast roused the slumbering strife,\n     From age to age, with eager knife,\n       Watching to destroy.\n\n STROPHE III.\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n    Death invoke not to relieve thee\n    From the ills that vainly grieve thee!\n    Nor, with ire indignant swelling,\n    Blame the many-murdering Helen!\n    Damned destruction did she none,\n    There, where thousands fell for one,\n      'Neath the walls of Troy.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n    O god that o'er the doomed Atridan halls[n93]\n       With might prevailest,\n    Weak woman's breast to do thy headlong will\n       With murder mailest!\n    O'er his dead body, like a boding raven,\n       Thou tak'st thy station,\n    Piercing my marrow with thy savage hymn\n       Of exultation.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n    Nay, but now thou speakest wisely;\n    This thrice-potent god precisely\n    Works our woe, and weaves our sorrow.\n    He with madness stings the marrow,\n    And with greed that thirsts for blood;\n    Ere to-day's is dry, the flood\n      Flows afresh to-morrow.\n\n STROPHE IV.\n CHORUS.\n    Him, even him, this terrible god, to bear\n       These walls are fated;\n    From age to age he worketh wildly there\n       With wrath unsated.\n    Not without Jove, Jove cause and end of all,\n       Nor working vainly.\n    Comes no event but with high sway the gods\n      Have ruled it plainly.\n\n {86}\n\n STROPHE V.\n CHORUS.\n     O the king! the king! for thee\n     Tears in vain my cheek shall furrow,\n     Words in vain shall voice my sorrow!\n     As in a spider's web thou liest;\n     Godless meshes spread for thee,\n     An unworthy death thou diest!\n\n STROPHE VI.\n CHORUS.\n There, even there thou liest, woe's me, outstretched\n     On couch inglorious;\n O'er thee the knife prevailed, keen-edged, by damned\n     Deceit victorious.\n\n STROPHE VII.\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Nay, be wise, and understand;\n Say not Agamemnon's wife\n  Wielded in this human hand\n    The fateful knife.\n But a god, my spirit's master,\n The unrelenting old Alastor[n94]\n Chose this wife, his incarnation,\n To avenge the desecration\n Of foul-feasting Atreus; he\n Gave, to work his wrath's completion,\n To the babes this grown addition.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n CHORUS.\n Thy crime is plain: bear thou what thou hast merited,\n     Guilt's heavy lading;\n But that fell Spirit, from sire to son inherited,\n     Perchance was aiding.\n Black-mantled Mars through consanguineous gore\n     Borne onwards blindly,\n Old horrors to atone, fresh Murder's store\n     Upheaps unkindly.\n\n ANTISTROPHE V.\n    O the king! the king! for thee\n    Tears in vain my cheek shall furrow,\n    Words in vain shall voice my sorrow!\n    As in a spider's web thou liest;\n    Godless meshes spread for thee,\n    An unworthy death thou diest.\n\n {87}\n\n ANTISTROPHE VI.\n CHORUS.\n There, even there, thou liest, woe's me, outstretched\n     On couch inglorious!\n O'er thee the knife prevailed, keen-edged, by damned\n     Deceit victorious.\n\n ANTISTROPHE VII.\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Say not thou that he did die\n By unworthy death inglorious;\n Erst himself prevailed by damned\n    Deceit victorious,\n Then when he killed the deep-lamented\n Iphigen\u00eda, nor relented\n When for my body's fruit with weeping\n I besought him. Springs his reaping\n From what seed he sowed. Not he\n In Hades housed shall boast to-day;\n So slain by steel as he did slay.\n\n STROPHE VIII.\n CHORUS.\n I'm tossed with doubt, on no sure counsel grounded,\n     With fear confounded.\n No drizzling drops, a red ensanguined shower,\n Upon the crazy house, that was my tower,\n     Comes wildly sweeping,\n On a new whetstone whets her blade the Fate\n     With eyes unweeping.\n\n STROPHE IX.\n CHORUS.\n O Earth, O Earth, would thou hadst yawned,\n And in thy black pit whelmed me wholly,\n Ere I had seen my dear-loved lord\n In the silver bath thus bedded lowly!\n Who will bury him? and for him\n With salt tears what eyes shall brim?\n Wilt thou do it--thou, the wife\n That slew thy husband with the knife?\n Wilt thou dare, with blushless face,\n Thus to offer a graceless grace?\n With false show of pious moaning,\n Thine own damned deed atoning?\n\n STROPHE X.\n CHORUS.\n What voice the praises of the godlike man\n     Shall publish clearly?\n {88}\n And o'er his tomb the tear from eyelids wan\n     Shall drop sincerely?\n\n STROPHE XI.\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n In vain thy doubtful heart is tried\n With many sorrows. By my hand\n Falling he fell, and dying died.[n95]\n I too will bury him; but no train\n Of mourning men for him shall plain\n In our Argive streets; but rather\n In the land of sunless cheer\n She shall be his convoy; she,\n Iphigen\u00eda, his daughter dear.\n By the stream of woes[f30] swift-flowing,\n Round his neck her white arms throwing,\n She shall meet her gentle father,\n   And greet him with a kiss.\n\n ANTISTROPHE VIII.\n CHORUS.\n Crime quitting crime, and which the more profanely\n     Were questioned vainly;\n 'Tis robber robbed, and slayer slain, for, though\n Oft-times it lag, with measured blow for blow\n     Vengeance prevaileth,\n While great Jove lives.[n96] Who breaks the close-linked woe\n     Which Heaven entaileth?\n\n ANTISTROPHE IX.\n CHORUS.\n O Earth, O Earth, would thou hadst yawned,\n And in thy black pit whelmed me wholly,\n Ere I had seen my dear-loved lord\n In the silver bath thus bedded lowly!\n Who will bury him? and for him\n With salt tears, what eyes shall brim?\n Wilt thou do it? thou, the wife\n That killed thy husband with the knife?\n Wilt thou dare, with blushless face,\n Thus to offer a graceless grace?\n With false show of pious moaning\n Thine own damned deed atoning?\n\n {89}\n\n ANTISTROPHE X.\n CHORUS.\n What voice the praises of the god-like man\n     Shall publish clearly?\n And o'er his tomb the tear from eyelids wan\n     Shall drop sincerely?\n\n ANTISTROPHE XI.\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Cease thy cries. Where Heaven entaileth,\n Thyself didst say, woe there prevaileth.\n But for this tide enough hath been\n Of bloody work. My score is clean.\n Now to the ancient stern Alastor,\n That crowns the Pleisthenids[f31] with disaster,\n I vow, having reaped his crop of woe\n From me, to others let him go,\n And hold with them his bloody bridal,\n Of horrid murders suicidal!\n Myself, my little store amassed\n Shall freely use, while it may last,\n    From murdering madness healed.\n\n   [_Enter_ \u00c6GISTHUS.\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n O blessed light! O happy day proclaiming\n The justice of the gods! Now may I say\n The Olympians look from heaven sublime, to note\n Our woes, and right our wrongs, seeing as I see\n In the close meshes of the Erinnyes tangled\n This man--sweet sight to see!--prostrate before me,\n Having paid the forfeit of his father's crime.\n For Atreus, ruler of this Argive land,\n This dead man's father--to be plain--contending\n About the mastery, banished from the city\n Thyestes, his own brother and my father.\n In suppliant guise back to his hearth again\n The unhappy prince returned, content if he\n Might tread his native acres, not besprent\n With his own blood. Him with a formal show\n Of hospitality--not love--received\n The father of this dead, the godless Atreus;\n And to my father for the savoury use\n Of festive viands gave his children's flesh\n To feed on; in a separate dish concealed\n {90}\n Were legs and arms, and the fingers' pointed tips,[n97]\n Broke from the body. These my father saw not;\n But what remained, the undistinguished flesh,\n He with unwitting greed devoured, and ate\n A curse to Argos. Soon as known, his heart\n Disowned the unholy feast, and with a groan\n Back-falling he disgorged it. Then he vowed\n Dark doom to the Pelopidae, and woes\n Intolerable, while with his heel he spurned[n98]\n The supper, and thus voiced the righteous curse:\n THUS PERISH ALL THE RACE OF PLEISTHENES!\n See here the cause why Agamemnon died,\n And why his death most righteous was devised\n By me; for I, Thyestes' thirteenth son,\n While yet a swaddled babe, was driven away\n To houseless exile with my hapless sire.\n But me avenging Justice nursed, and taught me,\n Safer by distance, with invisible hand\n To reach this man, and weave the brooded plot,\n That worked his sure destruction. Now 'tis done;\n And gladly might I die, beholding him,\n There as he lies where Vengeance trapped his crimes.\n\n CHORUS.\n \u00c6gisthus, that thou wantonest in the woe\n Worked by thy crime I praise not. Thou alone\n Didst slay this man, and planned the piteous slaughter\n With willing heart. So say'st thou: but mark well,\n Justice upon thy head the stony curse\n Shall bring avoidless from the people's hand.\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n How? Thou who sittest on the neathmost bench,\n Speak'st thus to me who ply the upper oar?\n 'Tis a hard task to teach an old man wisdom,\n And dullness at thy years is doubly dull;\n But chains and hunger's pangs sure leeches are,\n And no diviner vends more potent balms\n To drug a doting wit.[n99] Have eyes, and see,\n Kick not against the pricks, nor vainly beat\n Thy head on rocks.\n\n CHORUS.\n (_to_ CLYTEMNESTRA)\n                   Woman, how couldst thou dare,\n On thine own hearth to plot thy husband's death;\n First having shamed his bed, to welcome him\n With murder from the wars?\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n Speak on; each word shall be a fount of tears,\n I'll make thy tongue old Orpheus' opposite.\n {91}\n He with sweet sounds led wild beasts where he would,\n Thou where thou wilt not shalt be led, confounding\n The woods with baby cries. Thou barkest now,\n But, being bound, the old man shall be tame.\n\n CHORUS.\n A comely king wert thou to rule the Argives!\n Whose wit had wickedness to plan the deed,\n But failed the nerve in thy weak hand to do it.\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n 'Twas wisely schemed with woman's cunning wit\n To snare him. I, from ancient date his foe,\n Stood in most just suspicion. Now, 'tis done;\n And I, succeeding to his wealth, shall know\n To hold the reins full tightly. Who rebels\n Shall not with corn be fatted for my traces,\n But, stiffly haltered, he shall lodge secure\n In darkness, with starvation for his mate.\n\n CHORUS.\n Hear me yet once. Why did thy dastard hand\n Shrink from the deed? But now his wife hath done it,\n Tainting this land with murder most abhorred,\n Polluting Argive gods. But still Orestes\n Looks on the light; him favouring Fortune shall\n Nerve with one stroke to smite this guilty pair.\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n Nay, if thou for brawls art eager, and for battle, thou shalt know--\n\n CHORUS.\n Ho! my gallant co-mates, rouse ye![n100] 'tis an earnest business now!\n Quick, each hand with sure embracement hold the dagger by the hilt!\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n I can also hold a hilted dagger--not afraid to die.\n\n CHORUS.\n DIE!--we catch the word thou droppest; lucky chance, if thou wert dead!\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Not so, best-beloved! there needeth no enlargement to our ills.\n We have reaped a liberal harvest, gleaned a crop of fruitful woes,\n Gained a loss in brimming measure: blood's been shed enough to-day.\n Peacefully, ye hoary Elders, enter now your destined homes,\n Ere mischance o'ertake you, deeming WHAT IS DONE HATH SO BEEN DONE,\n AS IT BEHOVED TO BE, contented if the dread god add no more,\n He that now the house of Pelops smiteth in his anger dire.\n Thus a woman's word doth warn ye, if that ye have wit to hear.\n\n {92}\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n Babbling fools are they; and I forsooth must meekly bear the shower,\n Flowers of contumely east from doting drivellers, tempting fate!\n O! if length of hoary winters brought discretion, ye should know\n Where the power is; wisely subject you the weak to me the strong.\n\n CHORUS.\n Ill beseems our Argive mettle to court a coward on a throne.\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n Shielded now, be brave with words; my deeds expect some future day.\n\n CHORUS.\n Ere that day belike some god shall bring Orestes to his home.\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n Feed, for thou hast nothing better, thou and he, on empty hope.\n\n CHORUS.\n Glut thy soul, a lusty sinner, with sin's fatness, while thou may'st.\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n Thou shalt pay the forfeit, greybeard, of thy braggart tongue anon.\n\n CHORUS.\n Oh, the cock beside its partlet now may crow right valiantly!\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Heed not thou these brainless barkings. While to folly folly calls,\n Thou and I with wise command shall surely sway these Argive halls.\n\n[The End]\n\n\n\n CHOEPHOR\u00c6\n OR, THE LIBATION-BEARERS\n\n{93}\n\n A LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE\n\n \u1f18\u03ba \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f48\u03c1\u03ad\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03bf \u03c4\u03af\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c3\u03c3\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f08\u03c4\u03c1\u03ad\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03bf\n \u1f49\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4 \u1f04\u03bd \u1f21\u03b2\u03ae\u03c3\u1fc3 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u1f70\u03b9 \u1f27\u03c2 \u1f31\u03bc\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f04\u03b9\u03b7\u03c2.\n                                  HOMER.\n\n                        Think upon our father,\n Give the sword scope--think what a man was he.\n                                       LANDOR.\n\n\n\nPERSONS\n\n{94}\n\n ORESTES, Son of Agamemnon.\n PYLADES, Friend of Orestes.\n CHORUS OF CAPTIVE WOMEN.\n ELECTRA, Sister of Orestes.\n NURSE OF ORESTES.\n CLYTEMNESTRA, Mother of Orestes.\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n SERVANT.\n\nSCENE--_as in the preceding piece. The Tomb of Agamemnon in the\ncentre of the Stage._\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY REMARKS\n\n{95}\n\nTHE right of the avenger of blood, so familiar to us from its prominency\nin the Mosaic Law (see Numbers, chap. 35), is a moral phenomenon which\nbelongs to a savage or semi-civilized state of society in all times and\nplaces; and appears everywhere with the most distinct outline in the\nrich records of the early age of Greece, which we possess in the Homeric\npoems. No doubt, the most glowing intensity, and the passionate\nexaggeration of the feeling, from which this right springs, is found\nonly among the hot children of the Arabian desert;[f1] and in no\npoint of his various enactments were the wisdom and the humanity of\ntheir great Jewish lawgiver more conspicuous than in the appointment of\nsacerdotal cities of refuge, which set certain intelligible bounds of\nspace and time to the otherwise interminable prosecution of family\nfeuds, and the gratification of private revenge. But the great traits of\nthe system of private revenge for manslaughter, stand out clearly in the\nIliad and Odyssey; and the whole of the ancient heroic mythology of\nGreece is full of adventures and strange chances that grew out of this\ngerm. Out of many, I shall mention only the following instance. In the\ntwenty-third book of the Iliad (v. 82), when the shade of Patroclus\nappears at the head of his sorrowful, sleeping friend, after urging the\nnecessity of instant funeral, for the peace of his soul, he proceeds to\nmake a further request, as follows:--\n\n  \"This request I make, this strict injunction I on thee would lay,\n  Not apart from thine Achilles, place thy dear Patroclus' bones;\n  But together as, like brothers, in your father's house we grew,\n  Then when me, yet young, Men\u0153tius from the Locrian Opus guiding,\n  To the halls of Peleus brought because that I had slain a man,\n  Even thy son, Amphidamas, whom unwittingly of life I reft\n  In a brainish moment, foolishly, when we quarrelled o'er the dice;\n  Then the horseman, Peleus, kindly took me to his house, and kindly\n  Reared me with his son, and bade me be thy comrade to the end;\n  So my bones, when they are gathered, place where thine shall also be,\n  In the two-eared golden urn which gracious Thetis gave to thee.\"\n\nIn these verses, we see the common practice of the heroic ages in\nGreece, with regard to manslaughter. No matter how slight the occasion\nmight be out of which the lethal quarrel arose; how {96} innocent soever\nof all hostile intention the unhappy offender; the only safety to him\nfrom the private revenge of the kinsman of the person unwittingly slain,\nwas to flee to a country that acknowledged some foreign chief, and find\nboth a friend and a country in a distant land. All this, too, in an era\nof civilization, when courts of law and regular judges (as from various\npassages of Homer is apparent) were not altogether unknown; but nature\nis stronger than law, and passion slow to yield up its fiery right of\nsummary revenge, for the cold, calculating retribution of an impartial\njudge.\n\nThe person on whom the duty of avenging shed blood, according to the\nheroic code of morals, fell, was the nearest of kin to the person whose\nblood had been shed; and accordingly we find (as stated more at large by\nGesenius and Michaelis[f2]) that in the Hebrew language, the same\nword means both an avenger of blood and a kinsman, while in the cognate\nArabic the term for an avenger means also a _survivor_--that is, the\nsurviving kinsman. In the same way, when Clytemnestra, as we have just\nseen in the previous drama, had treacherously murdered her husband\nAgamemnon, the code of social morality then existing laid the duty of\navenging this most unnatural deed on the nearest relation of the\nmurdered chieftain, viz.--his son, Orestes; a sore duty indeed, in this\ncase, as the principal offender was his own mother: so that in\nvindicating one feeling of his filial nature the pious son had to do\nviolence to another; but a duty it still remained; and there does not\nappear the slightest trace that it was considered one whit the less\nimperative on account of the peculiar relation that existed here between\nthe dealer of the vengeful blow and the person on whom it was dealt.\nWHOSO SHEDDETH MAN'S BLOOD BY MAN SHALL HIS BLOOD BE SHED was the old\npatriarchal law on the subject, proclaimed without limitation and\nwithout exception; and the cry of innocent blood rose to Heaven with\npeculiar emphasis when the sufferer was both a father and a king.\n\n  \"Good, how good, when one who dies unjustly leaves a son behind him\n  To avenge his death!\"--Odyss. iii. 196,\n\nis the wisdom of old Nestor with regard to this subject and this very\ncase: and the wise goddess Athena, the daughter of the Supreme\nCouncillor, in whom \"all her father lives,\" stamps her distinct approval\non the deed of Orestes, by which Clytemnestra was murdered, and holds\nhim up as an illustrious example to Telemachus, by which his own conduct\nwas to be regulated in {97} reference to the insolent and unjust suitors\nwho were consuming his father's substance.\n\n  \"This when thou hast done, and well accomplished, as the need demands,\n  Then behoves thee in thy mind with counsel rife to ponder well\n  How the suitors that obscenely riot in thy father's halls\n  Thou by force or fraud may'st slay: for surely now the years are come,\n  When too old thou art to trifle like a child with childish things.\n  Hast not heard what fair opinion the divine Orestes reaped\n  From the general voice consenting to the deed, then when he slew\n  The deceitful false \u00c6gisthus, slayer of his famous sire.\"\n                                                      Odyssey i. 293.\n\nPublic opinion, therefore, to use a modern phrase, not only justified\nOrestes in compassing the death of his mother, but imperatively called\non him to do so. Public opinion, however, could not control Nature, nor\nsave the unfortunate instrument of paternal retribution from that\nrevulsion of feeling which must necessarily ensue, when the hand of the\nson is once red with the blood of her whose milk he had sucked. Orestes\nfinds himself torn in twain by two contrary instincts, the victim of two\nantagonist rights. No sooner are the Furies of the father asleep, than\nthose of the mother awake; and thus the bloody catastrophe of the\npresent piece prepares the way for that tragic conflict of opposing\nmoral claims set forth with such power in the third piece of this\ntrilogy--the Eumenides.\n\nThe action of this play is the simplest possible, and will, for the most\npart, explain itself sufficiently as it proceeds. Clytemnestra,\ndisturbed in conscience, and troubled by evil dreams, sends a chorus of\nyoung women to offer libations at the tomb of Agamemnon, which, in the\npresent play, may fitly be conceived as occupying the centre of the\nstage.[f3] These \"libation-bearers\" give the name to the piece. In\ntheir pious function, Electra, the daughter of Agamemnon, joins; and as\nshe is engaged in the solemn rite, her brother Orestes (who had been\nliving as an exile in Phocis with Strophius, married to Anaxibia, the\nsister of Agamemnon) suddenly arrives, and making himself known to his\nsister, plans with her the murder of \u00c6gisthus and Clytemnestra--which\nis accordingly executed. Scarcely is this done, when the Furies of the\nmurdered mother appear, and commence that chase of the unhappy son from\nland to land, which is ended in the next piece only by the eloquent\nintercession of Apollo, and the deliberative wisdom of the blue-eyed\nvirgin-goddess of the Acropolis.\n\nAs a composition, the Choephor\u00e6 is decidedly inferior both to {98} the\nAgamemnon which precedes, and the Eumenides which follows it; and the\npoet, as if sensible of this weakness, following the approved tactics of\nrhetoricians and warriors, has dexterously placed it in a position where\nits deficiencies are least observed. At the same time, in passing a\ncritical judgment on this piece we must bear in mind two\nthings--_first_, that some parts of this play that appear languid,\nlong-drawn, and ineffective to us who read, may have been overflowing\nwith the richest emotional power in their living musical exhibition;\nand, _secondly_, that many parts, especially of the choral chaunts, have\nbeen so maimed and shattered by time that the modern commentator is\nperhaps as much chargeable with the faults of the translation as the\nancient tragedian.\n\n\n\nCHOEPHOR\u00c6\n\n{99}\n\n  [_Enter_ ORESTES. _and_ PYLADES.\n\n ORESTES.\n Hermes, that wieldest underneath the ground\n What power thy father lent,[n1] be thou my saviour\n And my strong help, and grant his heart's request\n To the returning exile! On this mound,\n My father's tomb, my father I invoke,\n To hear my cry!\n * * * * * *\n * * My early growth of hair\n To Inachus I vowed;[n2] this later lock\n The right of grief for my great sire demands.\n * * * * * *\n But what is this? what sad procession comes\n Of marshalled maids in sable mantles clad?\n What mission brings them? Some new woe that breaks\n Upon our fated house? Or, do they come\n To soothe the ancient anger of the dead\n With sweet libations for my father's tomb?\n 'Tis even so: for lo! Electra comes--\n My sister--with them in unblissful grief\n Pre-eminent. O Jove, be thou mine aid,[n3]\n And nerve my hand to avenge my father's wrong!\n Stand we aside, my Pylades, that we\n May learn the purpose of the murky pomp. [_They go aside._\n\n CHORUS.\n (_dressed in sable vestments, bearing vessels with libations._)\n STROPHE I.\n     Missioned from these halls I come\n      In the sable pomp of woe,\n     Here to wail and pour libations,\n      With the bosom-beating blow;\n     And my cheeks, that herald sorrow,[n4]\n     With the fresh-cut nail-ploughed furrow,\n       Grief's vocation show.\n {100}\n     See! my rent and ragged stole\n     Speaks the conflict of my soul;\n     My vex'd heart on grief is feeding,\n      Night and day withouten rest;\n     Riven with the ruthless mourning,\n     Hangs the linen vest, adorning\n        Woefully my breast.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n     Breathing wrath through nightly slumbers,\n      By a dream-encompassed lair,\n     Prophet of the house of Pelops,\n      Terror stands with bristling hair.\n     Through the dark night fitful yelling,\n     He within our inmost dwelling\n        Did the sleeper scare.\n     Heavily, heavily terror falls\n     On the woman-governed halls!\n     And, instinct with high assurance,\n     Speak the wise diviners all;\n     \"The dead, the earth-hid dead are fretful,\n     And for vengeance unforgetful,\n       From their graves they call.\"\n\n STROPHE II.\n     This graceless grace to do, to ward\n      What ills the dream portendeth\n     This pomp--O mother Earth!--and me\n      The godless woman sendeth.\n     Thankless office! Can I dare,\n     Naming thee, to mock the air?\n     Blood that stains with purple track\n     The ground, what price can purchase back?\n     O the hearth beset with mourning!\n     O the proud halls' overturning!\n     Darkness, blithe sight's detestation,\n        Sunless sorrow spread\n     Round the house of desolation,\n        Whence the lord is fled.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n     The kingly majesty that was\n      The mighty, warlike-hearted,\n     That swayed the general ear and will,\n      The unconquered, hath departed.\n {101}\n     And now fear rules,[n5] and we obey,\n     Unwillingly, a loveless sway.\n     Who holds the key of plenty's portals\n     Is god, and more than god to mortals;\n     But justice from her watchful station,\n     With a sure-winged visitation\n     Swoops; and some in blazing noon\n       She for doom doth mark,\n     Some in lingering eve, and some\n       In the deedless dark.\n\n EPODE.\n     When mother Earth hath drunk black gore,\n     Printed on the faithful floor,\n       The staring blot remaineth;\n     There the deep disease is lurking;\n     There thrice double-guilt is working\n       Woes that none restraineth.\n     As virgin-chambers once polluted\n     Never may be pure again,\n     So filthy hands with blood bedabbled[n6]\n     All the streams of all the rivers\n       Flow to wash in vain.\n     For me I suffer what I must;\n       By ordinance divine,\n     Since Troy was levelled with the dust\n       The bondman's fate is mine.\n     What the masters of my fate\n       In their strength decree,[n7]\n     Just or unjust, matters not,\n       Is the law to me.\n     I must look content; and chain\n     Strongest hate with tightest rein;\n     I for my mistress' woes must wail,\n     And for my own, beneath the veil;[n8]\n       I must sit apart,\n     And thaw with tears my frozen heart,\n       When no eye may see.\n\n   [_Enter_ ELECTRA.\n\n ELECTRA.\n Ye ministering maids with dexterous heed\n That tend this household, as with me ye share\n {102}\n This pomp of supplication, let me share\n In your good counsel. Speak, and tell me how,\n This flood funereal pouring on the tomb,\n I shall find utterance in well-omened words?\n Shall I declare me bearer of sweet gifts\n From a dear wife to her dear lord? I fear\n To mingle faslehood with libations pure,\n Poured on my father's tomb.[n9] Or shall I pray,\n As mortals wont to pray, that he may send\n Just retribution, and a worthy gift\n Of ill for ill to them that sent these garlands?\n Or shall I silent stand, nor with my tongue\n Give honour, as in dumb dishonoured death\n My father died, and give the Earth to drink\n A joyless stream, as who throws lustral ashes[n10]\n With eyes averse, and flings the vase away?\n Your counsel here I crave; ye are my friends,\n And bear with me, within these fated halls\n A common burden. Speak, and no craven fear\n Lurk in your breasts! The man that lives most free,\n And him to sternest masterdom enthralled,\n One fate abides. Lend me your wisdom, friends.\n\n CHORUS.\n Thy father's tomb shall be to me an altar;\n As before God I'll speak the truth to thee.\n\n ELECTRA.\n Speak thus devoutly, and thou'lt answer well.\n\n CHORUS.\n Give words of seemly honour, as thou pourest,\n To all that love thy father.\n\n ELECTRA.\n                             Who are they?\n\n CHORUS.\n Thyself the first, and whoso hates \u00c6gisthus.\n\n ELECTRA.\n That is myself and thou.\n\n CHORUS.\n                         Thyself may'st judge.\n\n ELECTRA.\n Hast thou none else to swell the scanty roll?\n\n CHORUS.\n One far away, thy brother, add--Orestes.\n\n ELECTRA.\n 'Tis well remembered, very well remembered.\n\n CHORUS.\n Nor them forget that worked the deed of guilt.\n\n ELECTRA.\n Ha! what of them? I'd hear of this more nearly.\n\n CHORUS.\n Pray that some god may come, or mortal man.\n\n ELECTRA.\n Judge or avenger?\n\n CHORUS.\n                  Roundly pray the prayer,\n Some god or man may come to slay the slayer.\n\n ELECTRA.\n And may I pray the gods such boon as this?\n\n CHORUS.\n Why not? What other quittance to a foe\n Than hate repaid with hate, and blow with blow?[n11]\n\n {103}\n\n ELECTRA.\n (_approaching to the tomb of Agamemnon_)\n Hermes, that swayest underneath the ground,[f4] [n12]\n Of powers divine, Infernal and Supernal,\n Most weighty herald, herald me in this,\n That every subterranean god, and earth,\n Even mother earth, who gave all things their birth,\n And nurseth the reviving germs of all,\n May hear my prayer, and with their sleepless eyes\n Watch my parental halls. And while I dew\n Thy tomb with purifying stream, O father,\n Pity thou me, and on thy loved Orestes\n With pity look, and to our long lost home\n Restore us!--us, poor friendless outcasts both,\n Bartered by her who bore us, and exchanged\n Thy love for his who was thy murderer.\n Myself do menial service in this house;\n Orestes lives in exile; and they twain\n In riot waste the fruits of thy great toils.\n Hear thou my prayers, and quickly send Orestes\n With happy chance to claim his father's sceptre!\n And give thou me a wiser heart, and hand\n More holy-functioned than the mother's was\n That bore thy daughter. Thus much for myself,\n And for my friends. To those that hate my father,\n Rise thou with vengeance mantled-dark to smite\n Those justly that unjustly smote the just.\n These words of evil imprecation dire,[n13]\n Marring the pious tenor of my prayer,\n I speak constrained: but thou for me and mine\n Send good, and only good, to the upper air,\n The gods being with thee, mother Earth, and Justice\n With triumph in her train. This prayer receive\n And these libations. Ye, my friends, the while\n Let your grief blossom in luxuriant wail,\n Lifting the solemn p\u00e6an of the dead.\n\n CHORUS.[n14]\n     Flow! in plashing torrents flow!\n     Wretched grief for wretched master!\n     O'er this heaped mound freely flow,\n     Refuge of my heart's disaster!\n     O thou dark majestic shade,\n     {104}\n     Hear, O hear me! While anear thee\n     Pours this sorrow-stricken maid\n        The pure libation,\n     May the solemn wail we lift\n     Atone the guilt that taints the gift\n        With desecration!\n     O that some god from Scythia far,\n        To my imploring,\n     Might send a spearman strong in war,\n        Our house restoring!\n     Come Mars, with back-bent bow, thy hail\n        Of arrows pouring,\n     Or with the hilted sword assail,\n     And in the grapple close prevail,\n        Of battle roaring!\n\n ELECTRA.[n15]\n These mild libations, earth-imbibed, my father\n Hath now received. Thy further counsel lend.\n\n CHORUS.\n In what? Within me leaps my heart for fear.\n\n ELECTRA.\n Seest thou this lock of hair upon the tomb?\n\n CHORUS.\n A man's hair is it, or a low-zoned maid's?[n16]\n\n ELECTRA.\n Few points there are to hit. 'Tis light divining.\n\n CHORUS.\n I am thine elder; yet I fain would reap\n Instruction from young lips.\n\n ELECTRA.\n                             If it was dipt\n From head in Argos, it should be my own.[n17]\n\n CHORUS.\n For they that should have shorn the mourning lock\n Are foes, not friends.\n\n ELECTRA.\n                       'Tis like, O strange! how like!\n\n CHORUS.\n Like what? What strange conception stirs thy brain?\n\n ELECTRA.\n 'Tis like--O strange!--to these same locks I wear.\n And yet--\n\n CHORUS.\n         Not being yours, there's none, I know,\n Can claim it but Orestes.\n\n ELECTRA.\n                          In sooth, 'tis like.\n Trimmed with one plume Orestes was and I.\n\n CHORUS.\n But how should he have dared to tread this ground?\n\n ELECTRA.\n Belike, he sent it by another's hand,\n A votive lock to grace his father's tomb.\n\n CHORUS.\n Small solace to my grief, if that he lives,\n Yet never more may touch his native soil.\n\n ELECTRA.\n I, too, as with a bitter wave was lashed,\n And pierced, as with an arrow, at the sight\n Of this loved lock; and from my thirsty eyne\n {105}\n With troubled overflowings unrestrained\n The full tide gushes: for none here would dare\n To gift a lock to Agamemnon's grave;\n No citizen, much less the wife that slew him.\n My mother most unmotherly, her own children\n With godless hate pursuing, evil-minded:\n And though to think this wandering lock have graced\n My brother's head--even his--my loved Orestes,\n Were bliss too great, yet will I hold the hope.\n O that this lock might with articulate voice\n Pronounce a herald's tale, and I no more\n This way and that with dubious thought be swayed!\n That I might know if from a hostile head\n 'Twas shorn, and hate it as it hate deserves,\n Or, if from friends, my sorrows' fellow make it,\n The dearest grace of my dear father's tomb!\n But the gods know our woes; them we invoke,\n Whirled to and fro in eddies of dark doubt,\n Like vessels tempest-tossed. If they will save us,\n They have the power from smallest seed to raise\n The goodliest tree. But lo! a further proof[n18]--\n Footsteps, a perfect print, that seem to bear\n A brotherhood with mine! Nay, there are two--\n This claimed by him, and that by some true friend\n That shares his wanderings. See, the heel, the sole,\n Thus measured with my own, prove that they were\n Both fashioned in one mould. 'Tis very strange!\n I'm racked with doubt, my wits are wandering.\n\n ORESTES.\n (_coming forward_)\n Nay, rather thank the gods! Thy first prayer granted,\n Pray that fair end may fair beginning follow.[n19]\n\n ELECTRA.\n Sayest thou? What cause have I to thank the gods?\n\n ORESTES.\n Even here before thee stands thine answered prayer.\n\n ELECTRA.\n One man I wish to see: dost know him--thou?\n\n ORESTES.\n Thy wish of wishes is to see Orestes.\n\n ELECTRA.\n Even so: but wishing answers no man's prayer.\n\n ORESTES.\n I am the man. No dearer one expect\n That wears that name.\n\n ELECTRA.\n                      Nay, but this is some plot?\n\n ORESTES.\n That were to frame a plot against myself.\n\n ELECTRA.\n Unkind, to scoff at my calamities!\n\n ORESTES.\n To scoff at thine, were scoffing at mine own.\n\n ELECTRA.\n And can it be? Art thou indeed Orestes?\n\n {106}\n\n ORESTES.\n My bodily self thou seest, and dost not know!\n And yet the votive lock shorn from my head,\n Being to thine, my sister's hair, conform,\n And my foot's print with curious ardour scanned,\n Could wing thy faith beyond the reach of sense,\n That thou didst seem to see me! Take the lock,\n And match it nicely with this mother crop\n That bore it. More; behold this web,[n20] the fruit\n Of thine own toil, the strokes of thine own shuttle,\n The wild beasts of the woods by thine own hand\n Empictured! Nay, be calm, and keep thy joy\n Within wise bounds. Too well I know that they\n Who should be friends here are our bitterest foes.\n\n ELECTRA.\n O of my father's house the chiefest care!\n Seed of salvation, hope with many, tears\n Bewept, with thy strong arm thou shalt restore\n Thy father's house. O my life's eye, thou dost\n Four several functions corporate in one\n Discharge for me! My father thou, and thine\n The gentler love that should have been my mother's,\n My justly hated mother; and in her place,\n Who died by merciless immolation,[f5] thou\n Must be my sister, so even as thou art\n My faithful brother, loved much and revered.\n May Power and Justice aid thee, mighty Twain,[n21]\n And a third mightier, JOVE supremely great.\n\n ORESTES.\n O Jove, great Jove, of all these things be thou\n Spectator! And behold the orphan'd brood,\n Of eagle father strangled in the folds\n And deadly coil of loathly basilisk!\n Them sireless see in dire starvation's gripe,\n Too weak of wing to bear unto the nest\n Their father's prey. So we before thee stand,\n Myself and this Electra, sire-bereaved,\n And exiles both from our paternal roof.\n If we, the chickens of the pious father\n That crowned thee with much sacrifice, shall fail,\n Where shalt thou find a hand like his, to offer\n Gifts from the steaming banquet? If the brood\n Of the eagle perish, where shall be thy signs,\n That speak from Heaven persuasive to mankind?\n If all this royal trunk shall rot, say who,\n {107}\n When blood of oxen flows on holidays,\n Shall stand beside thine altar? O give ear,\n And of this house so little now, and fallen\n So low, rebuild the fortunes!\n\n CHORUS.\n                              Hush, my children!\n If ye would save your father's house, speak softly,\n Lest some one hear, and, with swift babblement,\n Inform their ears who rule; whom may I see\n Flayed on a fire, with streaming pitch well fed!\n\n ORESTES.\n Fear not. The mighty oracle of Loxias,\n By whose commands I dare the thing I dare,\n Will not deceive me. He, with shrill-voiced warning,\n Foretold that freezing pains through my warm liver\n Should torturing shoot, if backward to avenge\n My father's death, and even as he was slain,\n To slay the slayers, exasperate at the loss[n22]\n Of my so fair possessions. Thus to do\n He gave me strict injunction: else myself\n With terrible pains, of filial zeal remiss,\n Should pay the fine. The evil-minded Powers\n Beneath the Earth[n23] would visit me in wrath,\n A leprous tetter with corrosive tooth\n Creep o'er my skin, and fasten on my flesh,\n And with white scales the white hair grow, defacing\n My bloom of health; and from my father's tomb\n Ripe with avenging ire the Erinnyes\n Should ruthlessly invade me. Thus he spake,\n And through the dark his prescient eyebrow arched.[n24]\n Sharp arrows through the subterranean night,\n Shot by dear Shades that through the Infernal halls\n Roam peaceless, madness, and vain fear o' nights,\n Prick with sharp goads, and chase from street to street,\n With iron scourge, the meagre-wasted form\n Of the Fury-hunted sinner; him no share\n In festal cup awaits, or hallowed drop\n Of pure libation;[n25] the paternal wrath,\n Hovering unseen, shall drive him from the altar;\n Him shall no home receive, no lodgment hold,\n Unhonoured and unfriended he shall die,\n Withered and mummied with the hot dry plague.\n Such oracle divine behoves me trust\n With single faith, or, be I faithless, still\n The vengeance must be done. All things concur\n {108}\n To point my purpose; the divine command\n My sore heart-grief for a loved father's death,\n The press of want, the spoiling of my goods,\n The shame to see these noble citizens,\n Proud Troy's destroyers, basely bent beneath\n The yoke of two weak women: for he hath\n A woman's soul: if not, the proof is near.\n\n CHORUS.\n     Mighty Fates, divinely guiding\n     Human fortunes to their end,\n     Send this man, with Jove presiding,\n     Whither Justice points the way.\n     Words of bitter hatred duly\n     Pay with bitter words: for thus\n     With loud cry triumphant shouting\n     Justice pays the sinner's debt.\n     BLOOD FOR BLOOD AND BLOW FOR BLOW,\n     THOU SHALT REAP AS THOU DIDST SOW;\n     Age to age with hoary wisdom\n       Speaketh thus to men.[n26]\n\n STROPHE I.\n ORESTES.\n O father, wretched father, with what air\n     Of word or deed impelling,\n Shall I be strong to waft the filial prayer\n     To thy dim distant dwelling?\n There where in dark, the dead-man's day, thou liest,[n27]\n     Be our sharp wailing\n (Grace of the dead, and Hades' honour highest),\n     With thee prevailing!\n\n STROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n     Son, the strong-jawed funeral fire\n     Burns not the mind in the smoky pyre;\n     Sleeps, but not forgets the dead\n     To show betimes his anger dread.\n     For the dead the living moan,\n     That the murderer may be known.\n     They who mourn for parent slain\n     Shall not pour the wail in vain,\n     Bright disclosure shall not lack\n     Who through darkness hunts the track.\n\n {109}\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n ELECTRA.\n Hear thou our cries, O father, when for thee\n     The frequent tear is falling;\n The wailing pair o'er thy dear tomb to thee\n     From their hearts' depths are calling;\n The suppliant and the exile at one tomb\n     Their sorrow showering,\n Helpless and hopeless; mantled round with gloom,\n     Woe overpouring!\n\n CHORUS.\n     Nay, be calm; the god that speaks\n     With voice oracular shall attune\n     Thy throat to happier notes;\n     Instead the voice of wail funereal,\n     Soon the jubilant shout shall shake\n     His father's halls with joy, and welcome\n       The new friend to his home.\n\n STROPHE III.\n ORESTES.\n If but some Lycian spear, 'neath Ilium's walls,\n     Had lowly laid thee,\n A mighty name in the Atridan halls\n     Thou wouldst have made thee!\n Then hadst thou pitched thy fortune like a star,\n To son and grandson shining from afar;\n Beyond the wide-waved sea, the high-heaped mound\n     Had told for ever\n Thy feats of battle, and with glory crowned\n     Thy high endeavour.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n     Ah! would that thou hadst found thy end\n     There, where dear friend fell with friend,\n     And marched with them to Hades dread,\n     The monarch of the awful dead,[n28]\n     Sitting beside the throne with might\n     Of them that rule the realms of night;\n     For thou in life wert monarch true,\n     Expert each kingly deed to do,\n     Leading, with thy persuasive rod,\n     Submissive mortals like a god.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n ELECTRA.\n Thou wert a king, no fate it was for thee\n     To die as others\n {110}\n 'Neath Ilium's walls, far, far beyond the sea,\n     With many brothers.\n Unworthy was the spear to drink thy blood,\n Where far Scamander rolls his swirling flood.\n Justly who slew had drawn themselves thy lot,\n     And perished rather,\n And thou their timeless fate had welcomed, not\n     They thine, my father.\n\n CHORUS.\n     Child, thy grief begetteth visions\n     Brighter than gold, and overtopping\n         Hyperborean bliss.[n29]\n     Ah, here the misery rudely riots,\n     With double lash. These twins, their help\n     Sleeps beneath the ground; and they\n     Who hold dominion here, alas!\n     With unholy sceptre sway.\n     Woe is me! but chiefly woe\n         Children dear to you!\n\n STROPHE IV.\n ELECTRA.\n Chiefly to me! Thy words shoot like an arrow,\n     And pierce my marrow.\n O Jove, O Jove! that sendest from below[n30]\n     The retribution slow,\n Against the stout heart and bold hand,\n That dared defy thy high command.\n Even though a parent feel the woe,\n Prepare, prepare the finished blow.\n\n STROPHE V.\n CHORUS.\n Mine be soon to lift the strain,\n O'er the treacherous slayer slain,\n To shout with bitter exultation,\n O'er the murtherous wife's prostration!\n Why should I the hate conceal,\n That spurs my heart with promptest zeal,\n Bitter thoughts, that gathering grow,\n Like blustering winds, that beat the plunging vessel's prow?\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n ORESTES.\n O thou that flourishest, and mak'st to flourish,\n     By thy hands perish\n All they that hate me! Cleave the heads of those,\n     That are Orestes' foes!\n {111}\n   Pledge the land in peace to live,\n   For injustice justice give;\n   Ye that honoured reign below,[n31]\n   Furies! prepare the crowning blow.\n\n CHORUS.\n   Wont hath been, and shall be ever,\n   That when purple gouts bedash\n   The guilty ground, then BLOOD DOTH BLOOD\n   DEMAND, AND BLOOD FOR BLOOD SHALL FLOW.\n   Fury to Havoc cries; and Havoc,\n   The tainted track of blood pursuing,\n     From age to age works woe.\n\n STROPHE VI.\n ELECTRA.\n     Ye powers of Hades dread!\n     Fell Curses of the Dead,\n     Hear, me when I call!\n     Behold! The Atridan hall,\n     Dashed in dishonoured fall,\n     Lies low and graceless all.\n     O mighty Jove, I see\n     Mine only help in thee!\n\n ANTISTROPHE V.\n CHORUS.\n   Thy piteous tale doth make my heart\n   From its central hold back start;\n   Hope departs, and blackening Fear\n   Rules my fancy, while I hear.\n   And if blithe confidence awhile[n32]\n   Lends my dull faith the feeble smile,\n   Soon, soon departs that glimpse of cheer,\n And all my map of things is desolate and drear.\n\n ANTISTROPHE VI.\n ORESTES.\n     For why! our tale of wrong\n     In hate of parents strong,\n     Spurneth the flatterer's arm,\n     Mocketh the soothing charm.\n     The mother gave her child[n33]\n     This wolfish nature wild;\n     And I from her shall learn\n     To be thus harsh and stern.\n\n {112}\n\n STROPHE VII.\n CHORUS.\n     Like a Persian mourner[n34]\n      Singing sorrow's tale,\n     Like a Cissian wailer,\n      I did weep and wail.\n     O'er my head swift-oaring\n      Came arm on arm amain,\n     The voice of my deploring\n      Like the lashing rain!\n     Sorrow's rushing river\n      O'er me flooding spread,\n     Black misfortune's quiver\n      Emptied on my head!\n\n ELECTRA.\n   Mother bold, all-daring,\n   On a bloody bier\n   Thine own lord forth bearing\n    Slain without a tear.\n   Alone, unfriended he did go\n   Down to the sunless homes below.\n\n STROPHE VIII.\n ORESTES.\n   Thou hast named the dire dishonor;\n   The gods shall send swift judgment on her.\n      By Heaven's command,\n      By her own son's hand,\n      Slain she shall lie;\n   And I, having dealt the fated death,\n      Myself shall die!\n\n ANTISTROPHE VII.\n ELECTRA.\n   Be the butcher's work remembered,\n   Mangled was he, and dismembered;\n      Like vilest clay,\n      She cast him away,\n      With burial base;\n   Mocking the son, the father branding\n      With dark disgrace.\n\n ANTISTROPHE VIII.\n ORESTES.\n    Thou dost tell too truly\n     All my father's woe.\n\n ELECTRA.\n    I, the while, accounted\n     Lower than most low,\n {113}\n    Like a dog, was sundered\n     From my father's hearth,\n    An evil dog, and wandered\n     Far from seats of mirth;\n    In my chamber weeping\n     Tears of silent woe,\n    From rude gazers keeping\n     Grief too great for show.\n    Hear these words; and hearing\n     Nail them in thy soul,\n    With steady purpose nearing,\n     And noiseless pace, thy goal.\n   Go where just wrath leads the way,\n   With stout heart tread the lists to-day.\n\n STROPHE IX.\n ORESTES.\n O father, help thy friends, when helping thee!\n\n ELECTRA.\n My tears, if they can help, shall flow for thee.\n\n CHORUS.\n And this whole mingled choir shall raise for thee\n    The sistered cry: O hear!\n    In light of day appear,\n And help thy banded friends, to avenge thy foes for thee!\n\n ANTISTROPHE IX.\n ORESTES.\n Now might with might engage, and right with right!\n\n ELECTRA.\n And the gods justly the unjust shall smite.\n\n CHORUS.[n36]\n The tremulous fear creeps o'er my frame to hear\n    Thy words; for, though long-dated,\n    The thing divinely fated\n Shall surely come at last, our cloudy prayers to clear.\n\n STROPHE X.\n ELECTRA.\n     O home-bred pain,\n     Stroke of perdition that refuses\n     Concord with the holy Muses!\n     O burden more than heart can bear,\n     Disease that no physician's care\n       Makes sound again!\n\n ANTISTROPHE X.\n ORESTES.\n     So; even so.\n     No far-sent leech this tetter uses;\n     A home-bred surgery it chooses.\n {114}\n     I the red strife myself pursue,\n     Pouring this dismal hymn to you,\n       Ye gods below!\n\n CHORUS.\n    Blessed powers, propitious dwelling,\n    Deep in subterranean darkness,\n      Hear this pious prayer;\n    May all trials end in triumph\n      To the suppliant pair!\n\n ORESTES.\n Father, who died not as a king should die,\n Give me to rule, as thou didst rule, these halls.\n\n ELECTRA.\n My supplication hear, thy strong help lend me,\n Scathless myself[n37] to work \u00c6gisthus' harm.\n\n ORESTES.\n Thus of the rightful feasts that soothe the Shades\n Thou too shalt taste,[n38] and not dishonoured lie,\n When savoury fumes mount to our country's dead.\n\n ELECTRA.\n And I my whole of heritage will offer,\n The blithe libations of my marriage feast.\n Thy tomb before all tombs I will revere.\n\n ORESTES.\n O Earth, relax thy hold, and give my father\n To see the fight!\n\n ELECTRA.\n                  O Persephassa,[f6] send\n The Atridan forth, in beauty clad and strength.\n\n ORESTES.\n The bath that drank thy life remember, father.\n\n ELECTRA.\n The close-drawn meshes of thy death remember.\n\n ORESTES.\n The chain, not iron-linked, that bound thee, then\n When to the death the kingly game was hunted.\n\n ELECTRA.\n Then when with treacherous folds they curtained thee.\n\n ORESTES.\n Wake, father, wake to avenge thy speechless wrongs!\n\n ELECTRA.\n Lift, father, lift thy dear-loved head sublime!\n\n ORESTES.\n Send justice forth to work the just revenge,\n Like quit with like, and harm with harm repay;\n Thou wert the conquered then, rise now to conquer.\n\n ELECTRA.\n And hear this last request, my father, looking\n On thy twin chickens nestling by thy tomb;\n Pity the daughter, the male seed protect,\n Nor let the name revered of ancient Pelops\n Be blotted from the Earth! Thou art not dead,\n Though housed in Hades, while thy children live,\n For children are as echoes that prolong\n Their parents' fame; the floating cork are they\n That buoyant bear the net deep sunk in the sea.\n Hear, father--when we weep, we weep for thee,\n And, saving us, thou savest thine own honour.\n\n {115}\n\n CHORUS.\n Well spoken both:[n39] and worthily fall the tears\n On this dear tomb, too long without them. Now,\n If to the deed thy purpose thou hast buckled,\n Orestes, try what speed the gods may give thee.[n40]\n\n ORESTES.\n I'll do the deed. Meanwhile not idly this\n I ask of thee--what moved her soul to send\n These late libations, limping remedy\n For wounds that cannot heal? A sorry grace\n To feed the senseless dead with sacrifice,\n When we have killed the living. What she means\n I scarce may guess, but the amend is less\n Than the offence. All ocean poured in offering\n For the warm life-drops of one innocent man\n Is labour lost. Old truth thus speaks to all.\n How was it?\n\n CHORUS.\n            That I well may tell, for I\n Was with her. Hideous dreams did haunt her sleep;\n Night-wandering terrors scared her godless breast,\n That she did send these gifts to soothe the Shades.\n\n ORESTES.\n What saw she in her dream?\n\n CHORUS.\n                           She dreamt, she said,\n She had brought forth a serpent.\n\n ORESTES.\n                                 A serpent, say'st thou?\n\n CHORUS.\n Ay! and the dragon birth portentous moved,\n All swaddled like a boy.\n\n ORESTES.\n Eager for food, doubtless, the new-born monster?\n\n CHORUS.\n The nurturing nipple herself did fearless bare.\n\n ORESTES.\n How then? escaped the nipple from the bite?\n\n CHORUS.\n The gouted blood did taint the milk, that flowed\n From the wounded paps.\n\n ORESTES.\n                       No idle dream was this.\n And he who sent it was my father.\n\n CHORUS.\n                                  Then\n She from her sleep up started, and cried out,\n And many lamps, whose splendour night had blinded,\n Rushed forth, to wait upon their mistress' word.\n Straightway she sends us with funereal gifts,\n A medicinal charm, if medicine be\n For griefs like hers!\n\n ORESTES.\n                      Now hear me, Earth profound,\n And my dear father's tomb, that so this dream\n May find in me completion! Thus I read it--\n As left the snake the womb that once hid me,\n {116}\n And in the clothes was swathed that once swathed me,\n And as it sucked the breast that suckled me,\n And mingled blood with milk once sucked by me,\n And as she groaned with horror at the sight,\n Thus it beseems who bore a monstrous birth\n No common death to die. I am the serpent\n Shall bite her breast. It is a truthful dream.\n My seer be thou. Say have I read it well?\n\n CHORUS.\n Bravely. Now, for the rest, thy friends instruct\n What things to do, and what things to refrain.\n\n ORESTES.\n 'Tis said in few. Electra, go within,\n And keep my counsels in wise secrecy;\n For, as they killed an honourable man\n Deceitfully, by cunning and deceit\n Themselves shall find the halter. Thus Apollo,\n A prophet never known to lie, foretold.\n Myself will come, like a wayfaring man\n Accoutred, guest and spear-guest of this house,[f7]\n With Pylades, my friend, to the court gates.\n We both will speak with a Parnassian voice,\n Aping the Phocian tongue. If then it chance\n (As seems most like, for this whole house with ills\n Is sheer possessed)[n41] that with a welcome greeting\n No servant shall receive us, we will wait\n Till some one pass, and for their churlish ways\n Rate them thus sharply. \"Sirs, why dare ye shut\n Inhospitable doors against the stranger,[n42]\n Making \u00c6gisthus sin against the gods?\"\n When thus I pass the threshold of his courts,\n And see him sitting on my father's throne,\n When he shall scan me face to face, and seek\n To hear my tale; ere he may say the word,\n _Whence is the stranger?_ I will lay him dead,\n Dressing him trimly o'er with points of steel.\n The Fury thus, not scanted of her banquet,\n Shall drink unmingled blood from Pelops' veins,\n The third and crowning cup.[n43] Now, sister, see to 't\n That all within be ordered, as shall serve\n My end most fitly. Ye, when ye shall speak,\n Speak words of happy omen; teach your tongue\n Both to be silent, and to speak in season.\n For what remains, his present aid I ask,\n Who laid on my poor wits this bloody task.[n44] [_Exeunt._\n\n {117}\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n    Earth breeds a fearful progeny,[n45]\n      To man a hostile band.\n    With finny monsters teems the sea,\n      With creeping plagues the land;\n    And winged portents scour mid-air,\n      And flaring lightnings fly,\n    And storms, sublimely coursing, scare\n      The fields of the silent sky.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n    But Earth begets no monster dire\n     Than man's own heart more dreaded,\n    All-venturing woman's dreadful ire,[n46]\n     When love to woe is wedded.\n    No mate with mate there gently dwells,\n     There peace and joy depart,\n    Where loveless love triumphant swells,\n     In fearless woman's heart.\n\n STROPHE II.\n    This the light-witted may not know,\n      The wise shall understand,\n    Who hear the tale from age to age,\n    How Thestios' daughter, wild with rage,[n47]\n      Lighted the fatal brand,\n    The brand that burned with conscious flashes\n      At the cry of her new-born son;\n    And, when the brand had burned to ashes,\n      His measured course was run.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n    And yet a tale of bloody love\n      From hoary eld I know,\n    How Scylla gay, in gold arrayed,[n48]\n    The gift of Minos old, betrayed\n      Her father to the foe.\n    Sleeping all careless as he lay,\n      She cut the immortal hair,\n    And Hermes bore his life away,\n      From the bold and blushless fair.\n\n {118}\n\n STROPHE III.\n    Ah me! not far needs fancy range\n      For tales of harshest wrong:\n    Here, even here, damned wedlock thrives,\n      And lawless loves are strong.\n    Within these halls, where blazes now\n    No holy hearth, a bloody vow\n      Against her liege lord's life\n    She vowed; and he, the king divine,\n    Whose look back-drove the bristling line,\n      Bled by a woman's knife.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n    O woman! woman! Lemnos saw[n49]\n      Your jealous fountains flow,\n    And, when the worst of woes is named,\n      It is a Lemnian woe.\n    From age to age the infected tale,\n    Far echoed by a wandering wail,\n      To East and West shall go;\n    And honor from the threshold hies,\n    On which the doom god-spoken lies;[n50]\n      Speak I not wisely so?\n\n STROPHE IV.\n    Right through the heart shall pierce the blow,\n    When Justice is the sinner's foe,\n      With the avenging steel;\n    In vain with brief success they strove,\n    Who trampled on the law of Jove,\n      With unregarding heel.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n    Firm is the base of Justice. Fate,\n    With whetted knife, doth eager wait\n      At hoary Murder's door;\n    The Fury, with dark-bosomed ire,\n      Doth send the son a mission dire,\n      To clear the parent's score.\n\n   [_Enter_ ORESTES.\n\n ORESTES.\n What, ho! dost hear no knocking? boy! within!\n Is none within, boy? ho! dost hear me call\n {119}\n The third time at thy portal? Is \u00c6gisthus\n A man, whose ears are deaf to the strangers' cry?\n\n SERVANT.\n (_appearing at the door_)\n Enough. I hear thee. Who thou, and whence?\n\n ORESTES.\n Tell those within that a poor stranger waits\n Before the gate, bearer of weighty news.\n Speed thee; night's dusky chariot swoopeth down,\n And the dark hour invites the travelling man\n To fix his anchor 'neath some friendly roof.\n Thy mistress I would see, if here a mistress\n Rules, or thy master rather, if a master.\n For with a man a man may plainly deal,\n But nice regard for the fine feeling ear[n51]\n Oft mars the teller's tale, when women hear.\n\n   [_Enter_ CLYTEMNESTRA.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Strangers, speak your desire. Whate'er becomes\n This house to give is free to you to share.\n Hot baths,[n52] a couch to soothe your travelled toil,\n Blithe welcoming eyes, and gentle tendance; these\n I freely give. If aught beyond ye crave,\n There's counsel with my lord. I'll speak to him.\n\n ORESTES.\n I am a stranger come from Phocian Daulis.\n When I, my burden to my back well saddled,\n Stood for the road accoutred, lo! a man\n To me not known, nor of me knowing more,\n But seeing only that my feet were bound\n For Argos, thus accosted me (his name,\n I learned, was Strophius the Phocian): Stranger,\n If Argos be thy purpose, bear this message\n From me to whom it touches near. Orestes\n Is dead; charge well thy memory with the tale,\n And bring me mandate back, if so his friends\n Would have him carried to his native home,\n Or he with us due sepulture shall find,\n A sojourner for ever. A brazen urn\n Holds all the remnant of the much-wept man,\n The ashes of his clay. Thus Strophius spake:\n And if ye are the friends, whom chiefly grief\n Pricks for his loss, my mission's done; at least\n His parents will be grieved to hear 't.\n\n ELECTRA.[n53]\n                                        Woe's me!\n Sheer down we topple from proud height; harsh fate\n {120}\n Is ours to wrestle with. O jealous Curse,\n How dost thou eye us fatal from afar,\n And with thy well-trimmed bow shoot chiefly there\n Where thou wert least suspect! Thou hast me now\n A helpless captive lorn, and reft of all\n My trustiest friends. Orestes also gone,\n Whose feet above the miry slough most sure\n Seemed planted! Now our revelry of hope,\n The fair account that should have surgeoned woe,\n Is audited at nothing![n54]\n\n ORESTES.\n                       Would the gods,\n Where happy hosts, give welcome, I were guest\n On a more pleasant tale! The entertained\n No greater joy can know than with good news\n To recreate his entertainer's ears;\n But piety forbade, nor faith allowed\n To lop the head of truth.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Thou shalt not fare the worse for thy bad news,\n Nor be less dear to us. Hadst thou been dumb,\n Some other tongue had vented the sad tale.\n But ye have travelled weary leagues to-day,\n And doubtless need restoring. Take him, boy,\n With the attendant sharers of his travel,\n To the men's chambers. See them well bestowed,\n And do all things as one, that for neglect\n Shall give account. Meanwhile, our lord shall know\n What fate hath chanced; his wit and mine shall find\n What solace may be for these news unkind.\n                           [_Exeunt into the house._\n\n CHORUS.\n   When, O when, shall we, my sisters,\n   Lift the strong full-throated hymn,\n   To greet Orestes' triumph? Thou,\n   O sacred Earth, and verge revered\n   Of this lofty mound, where sleeps\n   The kingly helmsman of our State,\n   Hear thou, and help! prevail the hour\n   Of suasive wile, and smooth deceit![n55]\n   Herald him Hermes--lead him, thou\n   The nightly courier of the dead,[n56]\n   Through this black business of the sword!\n In sooth the host hath housed a grievous guest;\n For see where comes Orestes' nurse, all tears!\n Where goest thou, nurse, beyond our gates to walk,\n And why walks Grief, an unfee'd page, with thee!\n\n {121}\n\n   [_Enter_ NURSE.\n\n NURSE.\n My mistress bids me bring \u00c6gisthus quickly,\n To see the strangers face to face, that he\n May of their sad tale more assurance win\n From their own mouths. Herself to us doth show\n A murky-visaged grief; but in her eye\n Twinkles a secret joy, that time hath brought\n The consummation most devoutly wished\n By her--to us and Agamemnon's house\n Most fatal issue, if these news be true.\n \u00c6gisthus, too, with a light heart will hear\n These Phocian tidings. O wretched me! what weight\n Of mingled woes from sire to son bequeathed,\n Have the gods burdened us withal! Myself,\n How many griefs have shaken my old heart;\n But this o'ertops them all! The rest I bore,\n As best I might, with patience: but Orestes,\n My own dear boy, my daily, hourly care,\n Whom from his mother's womb these breasts did suckle--\n How often did I rise o' nights, and walked\n From room to room, to soothe his baby cries;\n But all my nursing now, and all my cares\n Fall fruitless. 'Tis a pithless thing a child,\n No forest whelp so helpless; one must even\n Wait on its humour, as the hour may bring.\n No voice it has to speak its fitful wants,\n When hunger, thirst, or Nature's need commands.\n The infant's belly asks no counsel. I\n Was a wise prophetess to all his wants,\n Though sometimes false, as others are. I was\n Nurse to the child, and fuller to its clothes,\n And both to one sad end. Alack the day!\n This double trade with little fruit I plied,\n What time I nursed Orestes for his father;\n For he is dead, and I must live to hear it.\n But I must go, and glad his heart, who lives\n Plague of this house, with news that make me weep.\n\n CHORUS.\n What say'st thou, Nurse? _how_ shall thy master come?\n\n NURSE.\n _How_ say'st thou? how shall I receive the question?\n\n CHORUS.\n Alone, I mean, or with his guards?\n\n NURSE.\n                                   She says\n His spearmen shall attend him.\n\n {122}\n\n CHORUS.\n                               Not so, Nurse!\n If thou dost hate our most hate-worthy master,\n Tell him to come alone, without delay,\n To hear glad tidings with exulting heart.\n The bearer of a tale can make it wear\n What face he pleases.[n57]\n\n NURSE.\n                      Well! if thou mean'st well,\n Perhaps--\n\n CHORUS.\n         Perhaps that Jove may make the breeze\n Yet veer to us.\n\n NURSE.\n                How so? Our only hope,\n Orestes, is no more.\n\n CHORUS.\n                     Softly, good Nurse;\n Thou art an evil prophet, if thou say'st so.\n\n NURSE.\n How? hast thou news to a different tune?\n\n CHORUS.\n                                         Go! go!\n Mind thine own business, and the gods will do\n What thing they will do.\n\n NURSE.\n                         Well! I'll do thy bidding!\n The gods lead all things to a fair conclusion!\n\n CHORAL HYMN.[n58]\n STROPHE I.\n   O thou, o'er all Olympian gods that be,\n      Supremely swaying,\n   With words of wisdom, when I pray to thee,\n      Inspire my praying.\n   We can but pray; to do, O Jove, is thine,\n      Thou great director;\n   Of him within, who works thy will divine,\n      Be thou protector!\n   Him raise, the orphaned son whom thou dost see\n      In sheer prostration;\n   Twofold and threefold he shall find from thee\n      Just compensation.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n   But hard the toil. Yoked to the car of Fate,\n      When harshly driven,\n   O rein him thou! his goaded speed abate\n      Wisely from Heaven!\n   Jove tempers all, steadies all things that reel;\n      When wildly swerveth\n {123}\n   From the safe line life's burning chariot wheel,\n      His hand preserveth.\n   Ye gods, that guard these gold-stored halls, this day\n      Receive the claimant,\n   Who comes, that old Wrong to young Right may pay\n      A purple payment.\n\n STROPHE II.\n   BLOOD BEGETS BLOOD; but, when this blow shall fall,\n      O thou, whose dwelling\n   Is Delphi's fuming throat, may this be all!\n      Of red blood, welling\n   From guilty veins, enough. Henceforth may joy\n   Look from the eyes of the Atridan boy,\n      Discerning clearly\n   From his ancestral halls the clouds unrolled,\n      That hung so drearly.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n   And thou, O Maia's son,[f8] fair breezes blow,\n      The full sail swelling!\n   Cunning art thou through murky ways to go,\n      To Death's dim dwelling;\n   Dark are the doings of the gods; and we,\n   When they are clearest shown, but dimly see;\n      Yet faith will follow\n   Where Hermes leads, the leader of the dead,\n      And thou, Apollo.\n\n EPODE.\n   Crown ye the deed; then will I freely pour\n      The blithe libation,\n   And, with pure offerings, cleanse the Atridan floor\n      From desecration!\n   Then with my prosperous hymn the lyre shall blend\n      Its kindly chorus,\n   And Argos shall be glad, and every friend\n      Rejoice before us!\n   Gird thee with manhood, boy; though hard to do,\n   It is thy father's work; to him be true.\n   And, when she cries--_Son, wilt thou kill thy_ MOTHER?\n   Cry--FATHER, FATHER! and with that name smother\n {124}\n   The rising ruth. As Perseus, when he slew\n   The stony Dread,[f9] was stony-hearted, do\n      Thy mission stoutly;\n   For him below, and her above,[f10] pursue\n      This work devoutly.\n   The gods by thee, in righteous judgment, show\n      Their grace untender!\n   Thou to the man, that dealt the deathful blow,\n      Like death shalt render.\n\n   [_Enter_ \u00c6GISTHUS.\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n Not uninvited come I, having heard\n A rumour strange, by certain strangers brought,\n No pleasant tale--Orestes' death. In sooth,\n A heavy fear-distilling sorrow this,\n More than a house may bear, whose wounds yet bleed,\n And ulcerate from the fangs of fate. But say,\n Is this a fact that looks us in the face,\n Or startling words of woman's fears begotten,\n That shoot like meteors through the air, and die?\n What proof, ye maids, what proof?\n\n CHORUS.\n                                  Our ears have heard.\n But go within; thyself shalt see the man;\n Try well the teller, e'er thou trust the tale.\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n I'll scan him well, and prove him close, if he\n Himself was at the death, or but repeat\n From blind report the news another told.\n It will go hard, if idle breath cheat me.\n My eyes are in my head, and I can see.\n                            [_Exit into the house._\n\n CHORUS.\n   Jove! great Jove! What shall I say?\n   How with pious fervour pray,\n   That from thee the answer fair\n   Be wafted to my friendly prayer?\n   Now the keen-edged axe shall strike,\n   With a life-destroying blow;\n   Now, or, plunged in deep perdition,\n   Agamemnon's house sinks low,\n   Or the hearth with hope this day\n   Shall blaze, through all the ransomed halls,\n   And the son his father's wealth\n   Shall win, and with his sceptre sway.\n {125}\n   In the bloody combat fresh,\n   He shall risk it, one with two;\n   Hand to hand the fight shall be.\n   Godlike son of Agamemnon,\n      Jove give strength to thee!\n\n \u00c6GISTHUS.\n (_from within_)\n Ah me! I fall. Ah! Ah!\n\n CHORUS.\n Hear'st thou that cry? How is't? Whose was that groan?\n Let's go aside, the deed being done, that we\n Seem not partakers of the bloody work.[n59]\n 'Tis ended now.\n\n   [_Enter_ SERVANT.\n\n SERVANT.\n                Woe's me! my murdered master!\n Thrice woeful deed! \u00c6gisthus lives no more.\n Open the women's gates! uncase the bolts!\n Were needed here a Titan's strength--though that\n Would nothing boot the dead. Ho! hillo! ho!\n Are all here deaf? or do I babble breath\n In sleepers' ears? Where, where is Clytemnestra?\n What keeps my mistress? On a razor's edge\n Her fate now lies; the blow's already poised,\n That falls on her too--nor unjustly falls.\n\n   [_Enter_ CLYTEMNESTRA.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Well! what's the matter? why this clamorous cry?\n\n SERVANT.\n He, who was dead, has slain the quick. 'Tis so.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Ha! Thou speak'st riddles; but I understand thee.\n We die by guile, as guilefully we slew.\n Bring me an axe! an axe to kill a man!\n Quickly!--or conqueror or conquered, I\n Will fight it out. To this 'tis come at last.\n\n   [_Enter_ ORESTES, _dragging in the dead body of_ \u00c6GISTHUS; _with him_\n   PYLADES.\n\n ORESTES.\n Thee next I seek. For him, he hath enough.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Ah me! my lord, my loved \u00c6gisthus dead!\n\n ORESTES.\n Dost love this man? then thou shalt sleep with him,\n In the same tomb. He was thy bedmate living,\n Be thou his comrade, dead.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n                           Hold thee, my son!\n Look on this breast, to which with slumbrous eyes\n Thou oft hast clung, the while thy baby gum\n Sucked the nutritious milk.\n\n {126}\n\n ORESTES.\n                            What say'st thou, Pylades?\n Shall I curtail the work, and spare my mother?\n\n PYLADES.\n Bethink thee well; the Loxian oracles,\n Thy sure-pledged vows, where are they, if she live?\n Make every man thy foe, but fear the gods.\n\n ORESTES.\n Thy voice shall rule in this; thou judgest wisely.\n Follow this man; here, side by side with him,\n I'll butcher thee. Seemed he a fairer man\n Than was my father when my father lived?\n Sleep thou, where he sleeps; him thou lovest well,\n And whom thou chiefly shouldst have loved thou hatedst.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n I nursed thy childhood, and in peace would die.[n60]\n\n ORESTES.\n Spare thee to live with me--my father's murderer?\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Not I; say rather Fate ordained his death.\n\n ORESTES.\n The self-same Fate ordains thee now to die.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n My curse beware, the mother's curse that bore thee.\n\n ORESTES.\n That cast me homeless from my father's house.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Nay; to a friendly house I lent thee, boy.\n\n ORESTES.\n Being free-born, I like a slave was sold.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n I trafficked not with thee. I gat no gold.\n\n ORESTES.\n Worse--worse than gold--a thing too foul to name!\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Name all my faults; but had thy father none?\n\n ORESTES.\n Thou art a woman sitting in thy chamber.[n61]\n Judge not the man that goes abroad, and labours.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Hard was my lot, my child, alone, uncherished.\n\n ORESTES.\n Alone by the fire, while for thy gentle ease\n The husband toiled.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n                    Thou wilt not kill me, son?\n\n ORESTES.\n I kill thee not. Thyself dost kill thyself.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Beware thy mother's anger-whetted hounds.[f11]\n\n ORESTES.\n My father's hounds have hunted me to thee.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n The stone that sepulchres the dead art thou,\n And I the tear on't.\n\n ORESTES.\n                     Cease: I voyaged here,\n With a fair breeze; my father's murder brought me.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Ah me! I nursed a serpent on my breast.\n\n ORESTES.[n62]\n Thou hadst a prophet in thy dream, last night;\n And since thou kill'd the man thou shouldst have spared,\n The man, that now should spare thee, can but kill.\n\n   [_He drives her into the house, and there murders her._\n\n CHORUS.\n There's food for sorrow here; but rather, since\n Orestes could not choose but scale the height\n {127}\n Of bloody enterprise, our prayer is this:\n That he, the eye of this great house, may live.[n63]\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n Hall of old Priam, with sorrow unbearable,\n Vengeance hath come on the Argive thy foe;\n A pair of grim lions, a double Mars terrible,[n64]\n Comes to his palace, that levelled thee low.\n Chanced hath the doom of the guilty precisely,\n Even as Ph\u0153bus foretold it, and wisely\n Where the god pointed, was levelled the blow.\n Lift up the hymn of rejoicing; the lecherous,\n Sin-laden tyrant shall lord it no more;\n No more shall the mistress so bloody and treacherous\n Lavish the plundered Pelopidan store.\n\n STROPHE II.\n Sore chastisement[n65] came on the doomed and devoted,\n With dark-brooding purpose and fair-smiling show;\n And the daughter of Jove the eternal was noted,\n Guiding the hand that inflicted the blow--\n Bright Justice, of Jove, the Olympian daughter;\n But blasted they fell with the breath of her slaughter\n Whose deeds of injustice made Justice their foe.\n Her from his shrine sent the rock-throned Apollo,[n66]\n The will of her high-purposed sire to obey,\n The track of the blood-stained remorseless to follow,\n Winged with sure death, though she lag by the way.\n\n EPODE.\n Ye rulers on Earth, fear the rulers in Heaven,\n No aid by the gods to the froward is given;\n For the bonds of our thraldom asunder are riven,\n     And the day dawns clear.\n Lift up your heads; from prostration untimely\n Ye halls of the mighty be lifted sublimely!\n All-perfecting Time shall bring swift restitution,\n And cleanse the hearth pure from the gory pollution,\n     Now the day dawns clear.\n And blithely shall welcome them Fortune the fairest,[n67]\n The brother and sister, with omens the rarest;\n Each friend of this house show the warm love thou bearest,\n     Now the day dawns clear!\n\n {128}\n\n   [_Enter_ ORESTES, _with the body of_ CLYTEMNESTRA.\n\n ORESTES.\n Behold this tyrant pair, my father's murderers,\n Usurpers of this land, and of this house\n Destroyers. They this throne did use in pride,\n And now in love, as whoso looks may guess,\n They lie together, all their vows fulfilled.\n Death to my hapless father, and to lie\n Themselves on a common bier--this was their vow;\n And they have vowed it well. Behold these toils,\n Wherewith they worked destruction to my father,\n Chained his free feet, and manacled his hands.\n There--spread it forth--approach--peruse it nicely.\n This mortal vest, that so the father--not\n My father, but the Sun that fathers all\n With light[n68]--may see what godless deed was done\n Here by my mother. Let him witness duly,\n That not unjustly I have spilt this blood--\n My mother's; for \u00c6gisthus recks me not;\n As an adulterer should, he died: but she,\n That did devise such foul detested wrong\n Against the lord, to whom beneath her zone\n She bore a burden, once so valued, now\n A weight that damns her; what was she?--a viper\n Or a torpedo--that with biteless touch\n Strikes numb who handles.[n69] Harsh the smoothest phrase\n To name the bold unrighteous will she used.\n And for this fowler's net--this snare--this trap--\n This cloth to wrap the dead[n70]--this veil to curtain\n A bloody bath--teach me a name for it!\n Such murderous toils the ruffians use, who spill\n Their neighbour's blood, that they may seize his gold,\n And warm their heart with plenty not their own.\n Lodge no such mate with me! Sooner may I\n Live by high Heaven accursed, and childless die.\n\n CHORUS.\n     A sorry work--alas! alas!\n      A dismal death she found.\n     Nor sorrow quite from man may pass\n      That lives above the ground.\n\n ORESTES.\n A speaking proof! Behold, \u00c6gisthus' sword\n Hath left its witness on this robe; the time\n Hath paled the murtherous spot, but where it was\n The sumptuous stole hath lost its radiant dye.\n {129}\n Alas! I know not, when mine eyes behold\n This father-murdering web, if I should own\n Joy lord, or grief. Let grief prevail. I grieve\n Our crimes, our woes, our generation doomed,\n Our tearful trophies blazoned with a curse.\n\n CHORUS.\n     The gods so will that, soon or late,\n      Each mortal taste of sorrow;\n     A frown to-day from surly Fate,\n      A biting blast to-morrow.\n\n ORESTES.\n Others 'twixt hope and fear may sway, my fate\n Is fixed and scapeless.[n71] Like a charioteer,\n Dragged from his course by steeds that spurned the rein,\n Thoughts past control usurp me. Terror lifts,\n Even now, the prelude to her savage hymn,\n Within my heart exultant. But, while yet\n My sober mind remains, witness ye all\n My friends, this solemn abjuration! Not\n Unjustly, when I slew, I slew my mother--\n That mother, with my father's blood polluted,\n Of every god abhorred. And I protest\n The god that charmed me to the daring point\n Was Loxias, with his Pythian oracles,\n Pledging me blameless, this harsh work once done,\n Not done, foredooming what I will not say;\n All thoughts most horrible undershoot the mark.\n And now behold me, as a suppliant goes,\n With soft-wreathed wool, and precatory branch,[n72]\n Addressed for Delphi, the firm-seated shrine\n Of Loxias, navel of earth, where burns the flame\n Of fire immortal named.[n73] For I must flee\n This kindred blood, and hie me where the god\n Forespoke me refuge. Once again I call\n On you, and Argive men of every time,\n To witness my great griefs. I go an exile\n From this dear soil. Living, or dead, I leave\n These words, the one sad memory of my name.\n\n CHORUS.\n Thou hast done well; yoke not thy mouth this day\n To evil words. Thou art the liberator\n Of universal Argos, justly greeted,\n Who from the dragon pair the head hath lopped.\n\n   [_The_ FURIES _appear in the background_.\n\n ORESTES.\n Ah, me! see there! like Gorgons! look! look there!\n {130}\n All dusky-vested, and their locks entwined\n With knotted snakes. Away! I may not stay.\n\n CHORUS.\n O son, loved of thy sire, be calm, nor let\n Vain phantoms fret thy soul, in triumph's hour.\n\n ORESTES.\n These are no phantoms, but substantial horrors;\n Too like themselves they show, the infernal hounds\n Sent from my mother!\n\n CHORUS.\n                     'Tis the fresh-gouted blood\n Upon thy hand, that breeds thy brain's distraction.\n\n ORESTES.\n Ha! how they swarm! Apollo! more--yet more!\n And from their fell eyes droppeth murderous gore.\n\n CHORUS.\n There is atonement.[n74] Touch but Loxias' altar,\n And he from bloody stain shall wash thee clean.\n\n ORESTES.\n Ye see them not. I see them.[n75] There!--Away!\n The hell-hounds hunt me: here I may not stay.\n\n CHORUS.\n  Nay, but with blessing go. From fatal harm\n  Guard thee the god whose eyes in love behold thee![n76]\n  Blown hath now the third harsh tempest,\n  O'er the proud Atridan palace,\n     Floods of family woe!\n  First thy damned feast, Thyestes,\n  On thy children's flesh abhorrent;\n  Then the kingly man's prostration,\n  And thy warlike pride, Achaia,\n     Butchered in a bath;\n  Now he, too, our greeted Saviour\n     Red with this new woe!\n  When shall Fate's stern work be ended,\n  When shall cease the boisterous vengeance,\n     Hushed in slumbers low?\n\n[The End]\n\n\n\nTHE EUMENIDES\n\n{131}\n\nA LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE\n\n                            \u1f04\u03bb\u03b3\u03b5\u03b1\n \u03a0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03bc\u1f00\u03bb\u1fbd \u1f43\u03c3\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f18\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd\u03bd\u03cd\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03ad\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd.\n                            _Odyssey_ xi. 289.\n\n My solitude is solitude no more,\n But peopled with the Furies.\n                          BYRON.\n\n\n\nPERSONS\n\n{132}\n\n THE PYTHONESS of the Temple of Apollo in Delphi.\n APOLLO.\n HERMES (Mute).\n THE SHADE OF CLYTEMNESTRA.\n CHORUS OF FURIES.\n PALLAS ATHENA.\n JUDGES of the Court of Areopagus (Mute).\n CONVOY OF THE FURIES.\n\nSCENE--_First at Delphi in the Temple of Apollo; then on the Hill\nof Mars, Athens._\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY REMARKS\n\n{133}\n\nTHOUGH the ancient Greek religion, there can be no question, was too\nmuch the creation of mere imagination, and tended rather to cultivate a\ndelicate sense of beauty than to strike the soul with a severe reverence\nbefore the awful majesty of the moral law, yet it is no less certain\nthat to look upon it as altogether addressed to our sensuous emotions,\nhowever convenient for a certain shallow school of theology, would lead\nthe calm inquirer after moral truth far away from the right track. As\namong the gods that rule over the elements of the physical world, Jove,\naccording to the Homeric creed, asserts a high supremacy, which\nrestrains the liberty of the celestial aristocracy from running into\nlawless licence and confusion; so the wild and wanton ebullitions of\nhuman passion, over which a Bacchus, a Venus, and a Mars preside, are\nnot free from the constant control of a righteous Jove, and the sacred\nterror of a retributive Erinnys. The great lesson of a moral government,\nand a secret order of justice pervading the apparent confusion of the\nsystem of things of which we are a part, is sufficiently obvious in the\nwhole structure of the two great Homeric poems; but if it exists in the\nmidst of that sunny luxuriance of popular fancy as a felt atmosphere, it\nis planted by \u00c6schylus, the thoughtful lyrist of a later age, on a\nvisible elevation, whence, as from a natural pulpit, enveloped with dark\nclouds, or from a Heathen Sinai, involved in fearful thunders and\nlightnings, it trumpets forth its warnings, and hurls its bolts of\nflaming denunciation against Sin. The reader, who has gone through the\ntwo preceding pieces of this remarkable trilogy, without discovering\nthis their deep moral significance, has read to little purpose; but it\nis here, in the concluding piece, that the grand doctrine of the moral\ngovernment of the world is most formally enunciated; it is in the person\nof the Furies that the wrathful indignation of Jove against the\nviolators of the moral law manifests itself, in the full panoply of\nterror, and stands out as the stern Avatar of an inexorable Justice.\nHere, therefore, if we will understand the moral seriousness, of which\nthe gay Hellenic Polytheism was not without its background, let us fix\nour gaze. If the principles of \"immutable morality,\" of which our great\nEnglish Platonist talks so comprehensively, are to be found anywhere,\nthey are to be found here.\n\n{134}\n\nThe Furies (or the \u0395\u1f50\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03af\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2, _i.e._ the _Gracious-minded_, as\nthey are called by a delicate euphemism) are generally looked upon as\nthe impersonations of an evil conscience, the incarnated scourges of\nself-reproach. In this view there is no essential error; but it may be\nbeneficial, in entering on the perusal of the present piece, to place\nbefore the modern reader more literally the true Homeric idea of these\nawful Powers. In the Iliad and Odyssey, frequent mention is made of the\nErinnyes; and from the circumstances, in which their names occur, in\nvarious passages of these poems, there can be no doubt that we are to\nview them primarily as the impersonation of an imprecation or curse,\nwhich a person, whose natural rights have been grossly violated,\npronounces on the person, by whom this violation comes.[f1] Thus\nthe father of Phoenix (Il. ix. 453), being offended by the conduct of\nhis son in relation to one of his concubines, \"loads him with frequent\ncurses, and invokes the hated Furies\"--\n\n  \u03a0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf, \u03c3\u03c4\u03c5\u03b3\u03b5\u03c1\u1f70\u03c2 \u03b4\u1fbd \u1f10\u03c0\u03af\u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03bb\u03b5\u03c4 \u0395\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd\u03bd\u03b0\u03c2,\n\nand \"the gods,\" it is added, \"gave accomplishment to his curse, the\nsubterranean Jove, and the awful Persephone.\" In the same book we find,\nin the narration of the war, between the Curetes and the \u00c6tolians,\nabout Calydon, how Althaea, the mother of Meleager, being offended with\nher son on account of his having slain her brother, cursed him, and\ninvoked Pluto and Proserpine that he might die, and\n\n                  Her the Fury that walketh in darkness,\n  Heard from Erebus' depths, with a heart that knoweth no mercy.\n\nBoth these instances relate to offences committed against the revered\ncharacter of a parent; but the elder brother also has his Erinnys.--(Il.\nxv. 204), and even the houseless beggar--(Od. xvii. 575), and, more than\nall, he to whose prejudice the sacred obligation of truth and honour\nhave been set at nought by the perjured swearer--\n\n\n  Mighty Jove, be thou my witness, Jove of gods supremest, best,\n  Earth, and Sun, and Furies dread, that underneath the ground avenge\n  Whoso speaks and sweareth falsely--\n\nsays Agamemnon--(Il. xix. 257)--in restoring the intact Briseis to\nAchilles.\n\nThus, according to Homer's idea, wherever there is a cry of righteous\nindignation, rising up to Heaven from the breast of an injured person,\nthere may be a Fury or Furies; for they are not {135} limited or defined\nin any way as to number. It is not, however, on every petty occasion of\ncommon offence that these dread ministers of divine vengeance appear.\nOnly, when deeds of a deeper darkness are done, do these daughters of\nprimeval Night (for so \u00c6schylus symbolises their pedigree) issue forth\nfrom their subterranean caverns. There is something volcanic in their\nindignation, whose eruption is too terrible to be common. They chiefly\nfrequent the paths, that are dabbled with blood. A murdered father, or a\nmurdered mother especially, were never known to appeal to them in vain,\neven though Jove's own prophet, Apollo, add his sanction to the deed. An\nOrestes may not hope to escape the bloody chase, which the \"winged\nhounds,\" invoked by a murdered Clytemnestra, are eager to prepare--the\nsacred precincts of an oracular Delphi may not repel their\nintrusion--the scent of blood \"laughs in their nostrils,\" and they will\nnot be cheated of their game. Only one greatest goddess, in whose hands\nare the keys of her father's armoury of thunder, may withstand the full\nrush of these vindictive powers. Only Pallas Athena, with her panoply of\nOlympian strength, and her divine wisdom of reconciliation can bid them\nbe pacified.\n\nIn order to understand thoroughly the situation of the matricide\nOrestes, in the present play, we must consider further the ancient\ndoctrine of pollution attaching to an act of murder, and the consequent\nnecessity of purification to the offender. The nature of this is\ndistinctly set forth by Orestes himself in a reply to his sister\nIphigenia, put into his mouth by Euripides. \"Loxias,\" he says, \"first\nsent me to Athens, and\n\n  There first arrived, no host would entertain me,\n  As being hated of the immortal gods,\n  And some, who pitied me, before me placed\n  Cold entertainment on a separate board;\n  Beneath the same roof though I lodged with them,\n  No interchange of living voice I knew,\n  But sat apart and ate my food alone.\"\n                                Iphig. Taur. 954.\n\nLike an unclean leper among the Jews, the man polluted with human blood\nwandered from land to land, as with a Cain's mark upon his brow, and\nevery fellow-being shrank from his touch as from a living plague.\n\n  \"For wisely thus our ancestors ordained,\n  That the blood-tainted man should know no joy\n  From sight of fellow-mortal or from touch,\n  But with an horrid sanctitude protected\n  Range the wide earth an exile.\"\n                          EURIP. Orest. 512.\n\n{136}\n\nUnder the ban of such a social excommunication as this, the first act of\nreadmission into the fraternity of human society was performed by the\nsprinkling of swine's blood on the exile, a ceremony described\nparticularly in the following passage of Apollonius Rhodius, where Jason\nand Medea are purified by Circe from the taint of the murder of\nAbsyrtus:--\n\n  \"First to free them from the taint of murder not to be recalled,\n  She above them stretched the suckling of a sow whose teats distilled\n  The juice that flows when birth is recent; this she cut across the\n    throat,\n  And with the crimson blood outflowing dashed the tainted suppliants'\n    hands.\n  Then with other pure libations she allayed the harm, invoking\n  Jove that hears the supplication of the fugitive stained with blood.\"\n                                      ARGON. IV. 704-9.\n\nThe other \"pure libations\" here mentioned include specially water, of\nwhich particular mention is made in the legend of Alcm\u00e6on, which bears\na remarkable resemblance to that of Orestes, and in which it is in the\nsacred stream of the Achelous alone that purification is at length\nfound, from the deeply-engrained guilt of matricide.--(Apollodor, Lib.\nIII., c. 7.) All this, however, availed only to remove the unhallowed\ntaint, with which human blood had defiled the murderer. It was\nnecessary, further, that he should be tried before a competent court,\nand formally acquitted, as having performed every atonement and given\nevery satisfaction that the nature of the case required. According to\nthe consuetudinary law of Athens, there were various courts in which\ndifferent cases of murder and manslaughter were tried; but of all the\ncourts that held solemn judgment on shed blood, none was more venerable\nin its origin, or more weighty in its authority, than the famous court\nof the Areopagus; and here it is, accordingly, that, after being wearied\nout by the sleepless chase of his relentless pursuers, Orestes, with the\nadvice and under the protection of Apollo, arrives to gain peace to his\nsoul by a final verdict of acquittal from the sage elders of Athens,\nacting by the authority and with the direction of their wise\npatron-goddess, Athena.\n\nThe connection of Athena and the Areopagus with the Orestean legend\ngives to the present play a local interest and a patriotic hue of which\nthe want is too often felt in the existing remains of the Attic tragedy.\nBut Athena and the grave seniors of the hill of Ares are not the only\ncelestial personages here, in whom an Athenian audience would find a\nliving interest. The Furies themselves enjoyed a special reverence in\nthe capital of Athens, under the title of \u03a3\u03b5\u03bc\u03bd\u1f70\u03b9 \u03b8\u03b5\u03b1\u03b9, or the\n_dread goddesses_; and the principal seat of this worship, whether by a\nhappy conjunction or a wise choice, was situated on {137} the north-east\nside (looking towards the Acropolis) of that very hill of the war god,\nwhere the venerable court that bore his name held its solemn sessions on\nthose crimes, which it was the principal function of the Furies to\navenge. Up to the present hour, the curious traveller through the wreck\nof Athenian grandeur sees pointed out the black rift of the rock into\nwhich the awful virgins, after accepting the pacification of Athena, are\nreported to have descended into their subterranean homes;[f2] and\nit is with this very descent, amid flaming torch-light and solemn hymns,\nthat the great tragedian, mingling peace with fear, closes worthily the\ntrain of startling superhuman terrors which this drama exhibits.\n\nBut \u00c6schylus is not a patriot only, and a pious worshipper of his\ncountry's gods in this play, he is also, to some small extent at least,\nmanifestly a politician. The main feature of the constitutional history\nof Athens in the period immediately following the great Persian war, to\nwhich period our trilogy belongs, was the enlargement and the systematic\ncompletion of those democratic forms, of which the timocratic\nlegislation of Solon, about a century and a-half before, had planted the\nfirst germs. Of these changes, Pericles, the man above all others who\nknew both to understand and to control his age, was the chief promoter;\nand in a policy whose main tendency was the substitution of a numerous\npopular for a narrow professional control of public business, it could\nnot fail to be a main feature, that the authority of the judges of the\nold aristocratic courts was curtailed in favour of those bodies of paid\njurymen, the institution of which is specially attributed to Pericles\nand his coadjutor Ephialtes.[f3] Whether these changes were\npolitic or not, in the large sense of that word, need not be inquired\nhere; Mr. Grote has done much to lengthen the focus of those\nshort-sighted national spectacles, through which the English eye has\nbeen accustomed to view the classic democracies; but let it be that\nPericles kept within the bounds of a wise liberty in giving a fair and a\nlarge trial to the action of democratic principles at that time and\nplace; or let it be, on the other hand, that he overstepped the line\n\n  \"Which whoso passes, or who reaches not,\n  Misses the mark of right\"--\n\nin either case, where decision was so difficult, and discretion so\ndelicate, no one can accuse the thoughtful tragic poet of a stolid\nconservatism, when he comes forward, in this play, as the advocate of\n{138} the only court of high jurisdiction in Athens, now left unshaken\nby the great surge of those popular billows, that were yet swelling\neverywhere with the eager inspiration of Marathon and Salamis.[f4]\nThe court of Areopagus was not now, since the legislation of Solon, and\nthe further democratic movement of Cleisthenes, in any invidious or\nexclusive sense an aristocratic assembly, such as the close corporations\nof the old Roman aristocracy before the series of popular changes\nintroduced by Licinius Stolo; it was a council, in fact, altogether\nwithout that family and hereditary element, in which the principal\noffence of aristocracy has always lain; its members were composed\nentirely (not recruited merely like our House of Lords) of those\nsuperior magistrates--archons annually elected by the people--who had\nretired from office. To magnify the authority of such a body, and\nmaintain intact the few privileges that had now been left it, was, when\nan obvious opportunity offered, not only excusable in a great national\ntragedian, but imperative. One thing his political attitude in this\nmatter certainly proves, that he was not a vulgar hunter after\npopularity, delighting to swell to the point of insane exaggeration the\ncry of the hour, but one of those men of high purpose, who prove a\ngreater strength of patriotism by stemming the popular stream, than by\nswimming with it.\n\nBesides the championship of the Court of the Areopagus, there is another\npolitical element in this rich drama, which, though of less consequence,\nmust not be omitted. No sooner had the Persian invaders been fairly\ndriven back from the Hellenic shore, than that old spirit of narrow\nlocal jealousy, which was the worm at the heart of Grecian political\nexistence, broke out with renewed vigour, and gave ominous indications\nin the untoward affair of Tanagra, of that terrible collision which\nshook the two great rival powers a few years afterwards in the famous\nPeloponnesian war. Sparta and Athens, opposed as they were by race, by\ngeographical position, and by political character, after some public\nattempts at co-operation, in which Cimon was the principal actor, shrunk\nback, as in quiet preparation for the great trial of strength, into a\nstate of isolated antagonism. But, though open hostility was deferred,\nwise precaution could not sleep; and, accordingly, we find the\nAthenians, about this time, anxious to secure a base of operations, so\nto speak, against Sparta in the Peloponnesus, by entering into an\nalliance with Argos. As a genuine Athenian, \u00c6schylus, whatever his\npolitical feelings might be towards Cimon and the Spartan party, could\nnot but look with {139} pleasure on the additional strength which this\nArgive connection gave to Athens in the general council of Greece; and,\naccordingly, he dexterously takes advantage of the circumstance of\nOrestes being an Argive, to trace back the now historical union of the\ntwo countries to a period where Fancy is free to add what links she\npleases to the brittle bonds of international association.\n\nSuch is a rapid sketch of the principal religious and political\nrelations, some notion of which is necessary to enable the general\nEnglish reader to enter with sympathy on the perusal of the very\npowerful and singular drama of the Eumenides. The professional student,\nof course, will not content himself with what he finds here, but will\nseek for complete satisfaction in the luminous pages of Thirlwall and\nGrote--in the learned articles of Dr. Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities,\nin the notes of Schoemann, and, above all, in the rare Dissertations of\nOttfried M\u00fcller, accompanying his edition of the Eumenides--a work\nwhich I have read once and again with mingled admiration and\ndelight--from which I have necessarily drawn with no stinted hand in my\nendeavours to comprehend the Orestean trilogy for myself, and to make it\ncomprehensible to others; and which I most earnestly recommend to all\nclassical students as a pattern-specimen of erudite architecture raised\nby the hand of a master, from whom, even in his points of most baseless\nspeculation (as what German is without such?), more is to be learned\nthan from the triple-fanged certainties of vulgar commentators.\n\n\n\nTHE EUMENIDES\n\n{141}\n\n  [SCENE.--_In front of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi._\n\n THE PYTHONESS.\n Old Earth, primeval prophetess, I first\n With these my prayers invoke; and Themis[n1] next,\n Who doth her mother's throne and temple both\n Inherit, as the legend runs; and third\n In lot's due course, another Earth-born maid\n The unforced homage of the land received,\n Titanian Ph\u0153be;[f5] she in natal gift\n With her own name her hoary right bequeathed\n To Ph\u0153bus: he from rocky Delos' lake[n2]\n To Attica's ship-cruised bays was wafted, whence\n He in Parnassus fixed his sure abode.\n Hither with pious escort they attend him:\n The Sons of Vulcan pioneer his path,[n3]\n Smoothing the rugged desert where he comes:\n The thronging people own him, and king Delphos,\n The land's high helmsman, flings his portals wide.\n Jove with divinest skill his heart inspires,\n And now the fourth on this dread seat enthroned\n Sits Loxias,[f6] prophet of his father Jove.[n4]\n These be the gods, whom chiefly I invoke:\n But thee, likewise, who 'fore this temple dwellest,[n5]\n Pallas, I pray, and you, ye Nymphs that love\n The hollow Corycian rock,[n6] the frequent haunt\n Of pleasant birds, the home of awful gods.\n Thee, Bromius, too, I worship,[n7] not unweeting\n How, led by thee, the furious Thyads rushed\n To seize the godless Pentheus,[n8] ev'n as a hare\n Is dogged to death. And you, the fountains pure\n Of Pleistus,[f7] and Poseidon's[f8] mighty power[n9]\n I pray, and Jove most high, that crowns all things\n With consummation. These the gods that lead me\n To the prophetic seat, and may they grant me\n Best-omened entrance; may consulting Greeks,\n If any be, by custom'd lot approach;\n {142}\n For as the gods my bosom stir, I pour\n The fateful answer.\n   [_She goes into the Temple, but suddenly returns._\n O horrid tale to tell! O sight to see\n Most horrible! that drives me from the halls\n Of Loxias, so that I nor stand nor run,\n But, like a beast fourfooted stumble on,\n Losing the gait and station of my kind,\n A gray-haired woman, weaker than a child![n10]\n Up to the garlanded recess I walked,\n And on the navel-stone[f9] behold! a man\n With crime polluted to the altar clinging,\n And in his bloody hand he held a sword\n Dripping with recent murder, and a branch\n Of breezy olive, with flocks of fleecy wool\n All nicely tipt. Even thus I saw the man;\n And stretched before him an unearthly host\n Of strangest women, on the sacred seats\n Sleeping--not women, but a Gorgon brood,\n And worse than Gorgons, or the ravenous crew\n That filched the feast of Phineus[n11] (such I've seen\n In painted terror); but these are wingless, black,\n Incarnate horrors, and with breathings dire\n Snort unapproachable, and from their eyes\n Pestiferous beads of poison they distil.\n Such uncouth sisterhood, apparel'd so,[n12]\n From all affinity of gods or men\n Divorced, from me and from the gods be far,\n And from all human homes! Nor can the land,\n That lends these unblest hags a home, remain\n Uncursed by fearful scourges. But the god,\n Thrice-potent Loxias himself will ward\n His holiest shrine from lawless outrage. Him\n Physician, prophet, soothsayer, we call,\n Cleansing from guilt the blood-polluted hall. [_Exit._\n\n   [_The interior of the Delphic Temple is now presented to view._\n   ORESTES _is seen clinging to the navel-stone; the_ EUMENIDES\n   _lie sleeping on the seats around. In the background_ HERMES\n   _beside_ ORESTES. _Enter_ APOLLO.\n\n APOLLO.\n (_to_ ORESTES)\n Trust me, I'll not betray thee. Far or near,\n Thy guardian I, and to thine every foe\n {143}\n No gentle god. Thy madded persecutors\n Sleep-captured lie: the hideous host is bound.\n Primeval virgins, hoary maids, with whom\n Nor god, nor man, nor beast hath known communion.\n For evil's sake they are: in evil depth\n Of rayless Tartarus, underneath the ground,\n They dwell, of men and of Olympian gods\n Abhorred. But hence! nor faint thy heart, though they\n Are mighty to pursue from land to land\n O'er measureless tracks, from rolling sea to sea,\n And sea-swept cities. A bitter pasture truly\n Was thine from Fate;[n13] but bear all stoutly. Hie thee\n Away to Pallas' city, and embrace\n Her ancient image[n14] with close-clinging arms.\n Just Judges there we will appoint to judge\n Thy cause, and with soft-soothing pleas will pluck\n The sting from thy offence, and free thee quite\n From all thy troubles. Thou know'st that I, the god,\n When thou didst strike, myself the blow directed.\n\n ORESTES.\n Liege lord Apollo, justice to the gods\n Belongs; in justice, O remember me.\n Thy power divine assurance gives that thou\n Can'st make thy will a deed.\n\n APOLLO.\n                             Fear nought. Trust me.\n [_To_ HERMES] And thou, true brother's blood, true father's son,\n Hermes, attend, and to this mission gird thee.\n Fulfil the happy omen of thy name,\n The GUIDE,[f10] and guide this suppliant on his way.\n For Jove respects thy function and thy pride,\n The prosperous convoy, and the faithful guide.\n\n   [_Exit_ HERMES, _leading_ ORESTES. APOLLO _retires_.\n\n   [_Enter_ THE SHADE OF CLYTEMNESTRA.\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Sleeping? All sleeping! Ho! What need of sleepers?\n While I roam restless, of my fellow-dead\n Dishonoured and reproached, by fault of you,\n That when I slew swift vengeance overtook me.\n But being slain myself, my avengers sleep\n And leave my cause to drift! Hear me, sleepers!\n Such taunts I bear, such contumelious gibes,\n Yet not one god is touched with wrath to avenge\n {144}\n My death, who died by matricidal hands.\n Behold these wounds![n15] look through thy sleep, and see!\n Read with thy heart; some things the soul may scan\n More clearly, when the sensuous lid hath dropt,\n Nor garish day confounds.[n16] Full oft have ye\n Of my libations sipped the wineless streams,\n The soothing? of my sober sacrifice,\n The silent supper from the solemn altar,\n At midnight hour when only ye are worshipped.\n But now all this beneath your feet lies trampled.\n The man is gone; fled like a hind! he snaps\n The meshes of your toils, and makes--O shame!\n Your Deity a mark for scoffers' eyes\n To wink at! Hear me, ye infernal hags,\n Unhoused from hell! For my soul's peace I plead,\n Once Clytemnestra famous, now a dream.[n17]\n           [_The_ CHORUS _moans._\n Ye moan! the while the man hath fled, and seeks\n For help from those that are no friends to me.[n18]\n           [_The_ CHORUS _moans again._\n Sleep-bound art thou. Hast thou no bowels for me?\n My Furies sleep, and let my murderer flee.\n           [_The_ CHORUS _groans._\n Groaning and sleeping! Up! What work hast thou\n To do, but thine own work of sorrow? Rouse thee!\n           [_The_ CHORUS _groans again._\n Sleep and fatigue have sworn a league to bind\n The fearful dragon with strong mastery.\n\n CHORUS.\n (_with redoubled groans and shrill cries_)\n Hold! seize him! seize him! seize there! there! there! hold!\n\n CLYTEMNESTRA.\n Thy dream scents blood; and, like a dog that doth\n In dreams pursue the chase, even so dost thou\n At phantasms bark and howl. To work! to work!\n Let not fatigue o'ermaster thus thy strength,\n Nor slumber soothe the sense of sharpest wrong.\n Torture thy liver with reproachful thoughts;\n Reproaches are the pricks that goad the wise.\n Up! blow a blast of bloody breath behind him!\n Dry up his marrow with the fiery vengeance!\n Follow! give chase! pursue him to the death!\n\n   [CHORUS,[n19] _starting up in hurry and confusion._\n\n VOICE 1.\n Awake! awake! rouse her as I rouse thee!\n\n {145}\n\n VOICE 2.\n Dost sleep? arise! dash drowsy sleep away!\n Brave dreams be prelude to brave deed! Ho, sisters!\n\n STROPHE I.\n VOICE 1.\n    Shame, sisters, shame!\n    Insult and injury!\n    Shame, O shame!\n\n VOICE 2.\n    Shame on me, too: a bootless, fruitless shame!\n\n VOICE 1.\n    Insult and injury,\n     Sorrow and shame!\n    Burden unbearable,\n     Shame! O shame!\n\n VOICE 2.\n    The snare hath sprung: flown is the goodly game.\n\n VOICE 3.\n    I slept, and when sleeping\n    He sprang from my keeping;\n      Shame, O shame!\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n VOICE 1.\n    O son of Jove, in sooth,\n    If thou wilt hear the truth,\n      Robber's thy name!\n\n VOICE 2.\n    Thou being young dost overleap the old.[n20]\n\n VOICE 1.\n    A suppliant, godless,\n    And bloodstained, I see,\n    And bitter to parents,\n    Harboured by thee.\n\n VOICE 2.\n    Apollo's shrine a mother-murderer's hold!\n\n VOICE 3.\n    Apollo rewardeth\n    Whom Justice discardeth,\n    And robber's his name!\n\n STROPHE II.\n VOICE 1.\n    A voice of reproach\n    Came through my sleeping,\n    Like a charioteer\n    With his swift lash sweeping.\n\n VOICE 2.\n    Thorough my heart,\n    Thorough my liver,\n    Keen as the cold ice\n    Shot through the river.\n\n VOICE 3.\n    Harsh as the headsman,\n    Ruthless exacter,\n    When tearless he scourges\n    The doomed malefactor.\n\n {146}\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n VOICE 1.\n    All blushless and bold\n    The gods that are younger\n    Would rule o'er the old,\n    With the right of the stronger.\n\n VOICE 2.\n    The Earth's navel-stone\n    So holy reputed,\n    All gouted with blood,\n    With fresh murder polluted,\n      Behold, O behold!\n\n VOICE 3.\n    By the fault of the younger,\n      The holiest holy\n    Is holy no longer.\n\n STROPHE III.\n VOICE 1.\n    Thyself thy hearth with this pollution stained,\n    Thyself, a prophet, free and unconstrained.\n\n VOICE 2.\n    O'er the laws of the gods\n    Thou hast recklessly ridden,\n    Dispensing to men\n    Gifts to mortals forbidden;\n\n VOICE 3.\n    Us thou hast reft\n    Of our name and our glory,\n    Us and the Fates,\n    The primeval, the hoary.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n VOICE 1.\n    I hate the god. Though underneath the ground\n    He hide my prey, there, too, he shall be found.\n\n VOICE 2.\n    I at each shrine\n    Where the mortal shall bend him,\n    Will jealously watch,\n    That no god may defend him.\n\n VOICE 3.\n    Go where he will,\n    A blood-guilty ranger,\n    Hotly will hound him still\n    I, the Avenger!\n\n APOLLO.\n Begone! I charge thee, leave these sacred halls!\n From this prophetic cell avaunt! lest thou\n A feathered serpent in thy breast receive,\n Shot from my golden bow; and, inly pained,\n Thou vomit forth black froth of murdered men,\n Belching the clotted slaughter by thy maw\n Insatiate sucked. These halls suit not for thee;\n {147}\n But where beheading, eye-out-digging dooms,[n21]\n Abortions, butcheries, barrenness abound,\n Where mutilations, flayings, torturings,\n Make wretches groan, on pointed stakes impaled,\n There fix your seats; there hold the horrid feasts,\n In which your savage hearts exultant revel,\n Of gods abominate--maids whose features foul\n Speak your foul tempers plainly. Find a home\n In some grim lion's den sanguinolent, not\n In holy temples which your breath pollutes.\n Depart, ye sheep unshepherded, whom none\n Of all the gods may own!\n\n CHORUS.\n                         Liege lord, Apollo,\n Ours now to speak, and thine to hear: thyself\n Not aided only, but the single cause\n Wert thou of all thou blamest.\n\n APOLLO.\n                               How so? Speak!\n\n CHORUS.\n Thine was the voice that bade him kill his mother.\n\n APOLLO.\n Mine was the voice bade him avenge his father.\n\n CHORUS.\n All reeking red with gore thou didst receive him.\n\n APOLLO.\n Not uninvited to these halls he came.\n\n CHORUS.\n And we come with him. Wheresoe'er he goes,\n His convoy we. Our function is to follow.\n\n APOLLO.\n Follow! but from this holy threshold keep\n Unholy feet.\n\n CHORUS.\n             We, where we must go, go\n By virtue of our office.\n\n APOLLO.\n                         A goodly vaunt!\n Your office what?\n\n CHORUS.\n                  From hearth and home we chase\n All mother-murderers.\n\n APOLLO.\n                      She was murdered here,\n That murdered first her husband.[n22]\n\n CHORUS.\n                                 Yet should she\n By her own body's fruitage have been slain?\n\n APOLLO.\n Thus speaking, ye mispraise the sacred rites\n Of matrimonial Hera[n23] and of Jove,\n Unvalued make fair Aphrodite's grace,\n Whence dearest joys to mortal man descend.\n The nuptial bed, to man and woman fated,[n24]\n Hath obligation stronger than an oath,\n And Justice guards it. Ye who watch our crimes,\n If that loose reins to nuptial sins ye yield,\n {148}\n Offend, and grossly. If the murtherous wife\n Escape your sharp-set vengeance, how can ye\n Pursue Orestes justly? I can read\n No even judgment in your partial scales,\n In this more wrathful, and in that more mild.\n She who is wise shall judge between us, Pallas.\n\n CHORUS.\n The man is mine already. I will keep him.\n\n APOLLO.\n He's gone; and thou'lt but waste thy toil to follow.\n\n CHORUS.\n Thy words shall not be swords, to cut my honors.\n\n APOLLO.\n Crowned with such honors, I would tear them from me!\n\n CHORUS.\n A mighty god beside thy father's throne\n Art thou, Apollo. Me this mother's blood\n Goads on to hound this culprit to his doom.\n\n APOLLO.\n And I will help this man, champion and save him,\n My suppliant, my client; should I not,\n Both gods and men would brand the treachery.\n\n   [_The scene changes to the Temple of Pallas in Athens. A considerable\n   interval of time is supposed to have elapsed between\n   the two parts of the Play._\n\n   [_Enter_ ORESTES.\n\n ORESTES.\n Athena queen, at Loxias' hest I come.\n Receive the suppliant with propitious grace.\n Not now polluted, nor unwashed from guilt\n I cling to the first altar; time hath mellowed\n My hue of crime, and friendly men receive\n The curse-beladen wanderer to their homes.\n True to the god's oracular command,\n O'er land and sea with weary foot I fare,\n To find thy shrine, O goddess, and clasp thine image;\n And now redemption from thy doom I wait.\n\n   [_Enter_ CHORUS.\n\n CHORUS.\n 'Tis well. The man is here. His track I know.\n The sure advisal of our voiceless guide\n Follow; as hound a wounded stag pursues,\n We track the blood, and snuff the coming death.\n Soothly we pant, with life-outwearying toils\n Sore overburdened! O'er the wide sea far\n I came, and with my wingless flight outstripped\n The couriers of the deep. Here he must lie,\n In some pent corner skulking. In my nostrils\n The scent of mortal blood doth laugh me welcome.\n\n {149}\n\n CHORUS.[n25]\n VOICE 1.\n    Look, sisters, look!\n\n VOICE 2.\n    On the right, on the left, and round about,\n    Search every nook!\n\n VOICE 3.\n    Warily watch him,\n    The blood-guilty ranger,\n    That Fraud may not snatch him,\n    From me the Avenger!\n\n VOICE 1.\n    At the shrine of the goddess,\n    He bendeth him lowly,\n    Embracing her image,\n    The ancient the holy.\n\n VOICE 2.\n    With hands crimson-reeking,\n    He clingeth profanely,\n    A free pardon seeking\n    From Pallas--how vainly!\n\n VOICE 3.\n    For blood, when it floweth,\n    For once and for ever\n    It sinks, and it knoweth\n    To mount again never.\n\n VOICE 1.\n    Thou shalt pay me with pain;\n    From thy heart, from thy liver\n    I will suck, I will drain\n    Thy life's crimson river.\n\n VOICE 2.\n    The cup from thy veins\n    I will quaff it, how rarely!\n    I will wither thy brains,\n    Thou shalt pine late and early.\n\n VOICE 3.\n    I will drag thee alive,\n    For thy guilt matricidal,\n    To the dens of the damned,\n    For thy lasting abidal.\n\n EPODE.\n Tutti.\n    There imprisoned thou shalt see\n    All who living sinned with thee,\n    'Gainst the gods whom men revere,\n    'Gainst honoured guest, or parents dear;\n    All the guilty who inherited\n    Woe, even as their guilt had merited.\n    For Hades,[f11] in his halls of gloom,\n    With a justly portioned doom,\n {150}\n      Binds them down securely:\n    All the crimes of human kind,\n    In the tablet of his mind,\n      He hath graven surely.\n\n ORESTES.\n By manifold ills I have been taught to know\n All expiations; and the time to speak\n I know, and to be silent. In this matter\n As a wise master taught me, so my tongue\n Shapes utterance. The curse that bound me sleeps,\n My harsh-grained guilt is finer worn, the deep\n Ensanguined stain washed to a softer hue;\n Still reeking fresh with gore, on Ph\u0153bus' hearth,\n The blood of swine hath now wrought my lustration,[f12]\n And I have held communings with my kind\n Once and again unharming. Time, that smooths\n All things, hath smoothed the front of my offence.\n With unpolluted lips I now implore\n Thy aid, Athena, of this land the queen.\n Myself, a firm ally, I pledge to thee,\n Myself, the Argive people, and their land,\n Thy bloodless prize. And whether distant far\n On Libyan plains beside Tritonian pools,[n26]\n Thy natal flood, with forward foot firm planted,\n Erect, or with decorous stole high-seated,[n27]\n Thy friends thou aidest, or with practised eye\n The ordered battle on Phlegrean fields\n Thou musterest[n28]--come!--for gods can hear from far--\n And from these woes complete deliverance send!\n\n CHORUS.\n    Not all Apollo's, all Athena's power\n    Shall aid thee. Thou, of gods and men forsook,\n    Shalt pine and dwindle, stranger to the name\n    Of joy, a wasted shadow, bloodless sucked\n    To fatten wrathful gods. Thou dost not speak,\n    But, as a thing devoted, standest dumb,\n    My prey, even mine! my living banquet thou,\n    My fireless victim. List, and thou shalt hear\n    My song, that binds thee with its viewless chain.\n\n CHORUS.\n    Deftly, deftly weave the dance!\n    Sisters lift the dismal strain!\n    Sing the Furies, justly dealing\n    Dooms deserved to guilty mortals;\n    Deftly, deftly lift the strain!\n    Whoso lifted hands untainted\n {151}\n    Him no Furies' wrath shall follow,\n    He shall live unharmed by me;\n    But who sinned, as this offender,\n    Hiding foul ensanguined hands,\n    We with him are present, bearing\n    Unhired witness for the dead;\n    We will tread his heels, exacting\n    Blood for blood, even to the end.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.[n29]\n STROPHE I.\n    Mother Night that bore me,\n    A scourge, to go before thee,\n    To scourge, with stripes delightless,\n    The seeing and the sightless,[n30]\n    Hear me, I implore thee,\n      O Mother Night!\n    Mother Night that bore me,\n    The son of Leto o'er me\n     Rough rides, in thy despite.\n    From me, the just pursuer,\n    He shields the evil-doer,\n    The son to me devoted,\n    For mother-murder noted,\n     He claims against the right.\n\n      Where the victim lies,\n      Let the death-hymn rise!\n   Lift ye the hymn of the Furies amain!\n   The gleeless song, and the lyreless strain,[n31]\n   That bindeth the heart with a viewless chain,\n With notes of distraction and maddening sorrow,\n Blighting the brain, and burning the marrow!\n      Where the victim lies,\n      Let the death-hymn rise,\n   The hymn that binds with a viewless chain!\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n     Mother Night that bore me,\n     The Fate that was before me,\n     This portion gave me surely,\n     This lot for mine securely,\n     To bear the scourge before thee,\n      O Mother Night!\n {152}\n     And, in embrace untender\n     To hold the red offender,\n      That sinned in gods' despite,\n     And wheresoe'er he wend him,\n     His keepers close we tend him.\n     In living or in dying,\n     From us there is no flying,\n      The daughters of the Night.\n\n       Where the victim lies,\n       Let the death-hymn rise!\n    Lift ye the hymn of the Furies amain!\n    The gleeless song, and the lyreless strain,\n    That bindeth the heart with a viewless chain,\n  With notes of distraction and maddening sorrow,\n  Blighting the brain, and burning the marrow!\n       Where the victim lies,\n       Let the death-hymn rise,\n     The hymn that binds with a viewless chain!\n\n STROPHE II.\n      From primal ages hoary,\n      This lot, our pride and glory,\n       Appointed was to us;\n      To Hades' gloomy portal,\n      To chase the guilty mortal,\n      But from Olympians, reigning\n      In lucid seats,[f13] abstaining;\n      Their nectared feasts we taste not,\n      Their sun-white robes invest not\n       The maids of Erebus.\n\n        But, with scourge and with ban,\n        We prostrate the man,\n        Who with smooth-woven wile,\n        And a fair-faced smile,\n     Hath planted a snare for his friend;\n      Though fleet, we shall find him,\n      Though strong, we shall bind him,\n     Who planted a snare for his friend.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n      This work of labour earnest,[n32]\n      This task severest, sternest,\n {153}\n       Let none remove from us.\n      To all their due we render,\n      Each deeply-marked offender\n      Our searching eye reproveth,\n      Though blissful Jove removeth,\n      From his Olympian glory,\n      Abhorr'd of all and gory,\n       The maids of Erebus.\n\n        But, swift as the wind,\n        We follow and find,\n        Till he stumbles apace,\n        Who had hoped in the race,\n     To escape from the grasp of the Furies!\n        And we trample him low,\n        Till he writhe in his woe,\n     Who had fled from the chase of the Furies.\n\n STROPHE III.\n        The thoughts heaven-scaling\n        Of men haughty-hearted,\n        At our breath, unavailing\n        Like smoke they departed.\n        Our jealous foot hearing,\n        They stumble before us,\n        And bite the ground, fearing\n        Our dark-vested chorus.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n        They fall, and perceive not\n        The foe that hath found them;\n        They are blind and believe not,\n        Thick darkness hath bound them.\n        From the halls of the fated,\n        A many-voiced wailing\n        Of sorrow unsated\n        Ascends unavailing.\n\n STROPHE IV.\n        For the Furies work readily\n        Vengeance unsparing,\n        Surely and steadily\n        Ruin preparing.\n        Dark crimes strictly noted,\n        Sure-memoried they store them;\n {154}\n        And, judgment once voted,\n        Prayers vainly implore them.\n        For they know no communion\n        With the bright-throned union\n         Of the gods of the day;\n        Where the living appear not,\n        Where the pale Shades near not,\n        In regions delightless,\n        All sunless and sightless,\n         They dwell far away.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n        What mortal reveres not\n        Our deity awful?\n        When he names us, who fears not\n        To work deeds unlawful?\n        From times hoary-dated,\n        This statute for ever\n        Divinely was fated;\n        Time takes from it never.\n        For dishonour we bear not,\n        Though the bright thrones we share not\n        With the gods of the day.\n        Our right hoary-dated\n        We claim unabated,\n        Though we dwell, where delightless\n        No sun cheers the sightless,\n         'Neath the ground far away.\n\n   [_Enter_ ATHENA.\n\n ATHENA.\n The cry that called me from Scamander's banks[n33]\n I heard afar, even as I hied to claim\n The land for mine which the Ach\u00e6an chiefs\n Assigned me, root and branch, my portion fair\n Of the conquered roods, a goodly heritage\n To Theseus' sons. Thence, with unwearied foot,\n I journeyed here by these high-mettled steeds\n Car-borne, my wingless \u00e6gis in the gale\n Full-bosomed whirring. And now, who are ye,\n A strange assembly, though I fear you not,\n Here gathered at my gates? I speak to both,\n To thee the stranger, that with suppliant arms\n Enclasps my statue--Whence art thou? And you,\n {155}\n Like to no generation seed-begotten,\n Like to no goddess ever known of gods,\n Like to no breathing forms of mortal kind;\n But to reproach with contumelious phrase\n Who wrong not us, nor courtesy allows,\n Nor Themis wills. Whence are ye?\n\n CHORUS.\n                                 Daughter of Jove,\n 'Tis shortly said: of the most ancient Night\n The tristful daughters we, and our dread name,\n Even from the fearful CURSE we bear, we borrow.[f14]\n\n ATHENA.\n I know you, and the dreaded name ye bear.\n\n CHORUS.\n Our sacred office, too--\n\n ATHENA.\n                       That I would hear.\n\n CHORUS.\n The guilty murderer from his home we hunt.\n\n ATHENA.\n And the hot chase, where ends it?\n\n CHORUS.\n                                  There, where joy\n Is never named.\n\n ATHENA.\n                And is this man the quarry,\n That, with hoarse-throated whoop, thou now pursuest?\n\n CHORUS.\n He slew his mother--dared the worst of crimes.\n\n ATHENA.\n What mightier fear, what strong necessity\n Spurred him to this?\n\n CHORUS.\n                     What fear so strong that it\n Should prompt a mother's murder?\n\n ATHENA.\n There are two parties. Only one hath spoken.\n\n CHORUS.\n He'll neither swear himself, nor take my oath.[n34]\n\n ATHENA.\n The show of justice, not fair Justice self,\n Thou lovest.\n\n CHORUS.\n             HOW? Speak--thou so rich in wisdom.\n\n ATHENA.\n Oaths are no proof, to make the wrong the right.\n\n CHORUS.\n Prove thou. A true and righteous judgment judge.\n\n ATHENA.\n I shall be judge, betwixt this man and thee\n To speak the doom.\n\n CHORUS.\n                   Even thou. Thy worthy deeds\n Give thee the worth in this high strife to judge.\n\n ATHENA.\n Now, stranger, 'tis thy part to speak. Whence come,\n Thy lineage what, and what thy fortunes, say,\n And then refute this charge against thee brought.\n For well I note the sacredness about thee,\n That marks the suppliant who atonement seeks,\n In old Ix\u00edon's guise;[n35] and thou hast fled\n {156}\n For refuge, to my holy altar clinging.\n Answer me this, and plainly tell thy tale.\n\n ORESTES.\n Sovran Athena, first from these last words\n A cause of much concernment be removed.\n I seek for no atonement; no pollution\n Cleaves to thy sacred image from my touch.\n Of this receive a proof. Thou know'st a murderer\n Being unatoned a voiceless penance bears,\n Till, from the hand of friendly man, the blood\n Of a young beast from lusty veins hath sprent him,\n Cleansing from guiltiness. These sacred rites\n Have been performed: the blood of beasts hath sprent me,\n The lucent lymph hath purged the filthy stain.\n For this enough. As for my race, I am\n An Argive born: and for my father, he\n Was Agamemnon, king of men, by whom\n The chosen admiral of the masted fleet,\n The ancient city of famous Priam thou\n Didst sheer uncity.[n36] Sad was his return;\n For, with dark-bosomed guile, my mother killed him,\n Snared in the meshes of a tangled net,\n And of the bloody deed the bath was witness.\n I then, returning to my father's house\n After long exile--I confess the deed--\n Slew her who bore me, a dear father's murder\n With murder quitting. The blame--what blame may be--\n I share with Loxias, who fore-augured griefs\n To goad my heart if, by my fault, such guilt\n Should go unpunished. I have spoken. Thou\n What I have done, if justly or unjustly,\n Decide. Thy doom, howe'er it fall, contents me.\n\n ATHENA.\n In this high cause to judge, no mortal man\n May venture; nor may I divide the law\n Of right and wrong, in such keen strife of blood.\n For thee, in that thou comest to my halls,[n37]\n In holy preparation perfected,\n A pure and harmless suppliant, I, as pledged\n Already thy protector, may not judge thee.\n For these, 'tis no light thing to slight their office.\n For, should I send them hence uncrowned with triumph,\n Dripping fell poison from their wrathful breasts,\n They'd leave a noisome pestilence in the land\n Behind them. Thus both ways I'm sore perplexed;\n {157}\n Absent or present, they do bring a curse.\n But since this business needs a swift decision,\n Sworn judges I'll appoint, and they shall judge\n Of blood in every age. Your testimonies\n And proofs meanwhile, and all that clears the truth,\n Provide. Myself, to try this weighty cause,\n My choicest citizens will choose, and bind them\n By solemn oath to judge a righteous judgment.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.[n38]\n STROPHE I.\n     Ancient rights and hoary uses\n     Now shall yield to young abuses,\n     Right and wrong together chime,\n       If the vote\n       Fail to note\n     Mother-murder for a crime.\n     Murder now, made nimble-handed,\n     Wide shall rage without control;\n     Sons against their parents banded\n       Deeds abhorred\n       With the sword\n     Now shall work, while ages roll.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n     Now no more, o'er deeds unlawful,\n     Shall the sleeping M\u00e6nads[f15] awful\n     Watch, with jealous eyes to scan;\n       Free and chainless,\n       Wild and reinless,\n     Stalks o'er Earth each murtherous plan.\n     Friend to friend his loss deploreth,\n     Lawless rapine, treacherous wound,\n     But in vain his plaint he poureth;\n       To his bruises\n       Earth refuses\n     Balm; no balm on Earth is found.\n\n STROPHE II.\n     Now no more, from grief's prostration,\n         Cries and groans\n     Heaven shall scale with invocation--\n     \"Justice hear my supplication,\n     Hear me, Furies, from your thrones!\"\n {158}\n     From the recent sorrow bleeding,\n      Father thus or mother calls,\n     Vainly with a piteous pleading,\n      For the House of Justice falls.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n     Blest the man in whose heart reigneth\n         Holy Fear;\n     Fear his heart severely traineth;\n     Blest, from troublous woe who gaineth\n      Ripest fruits of wisdom clear;[f16]\n     But who sports, a careless liver,[n39]\n      In the sunshine's flaunting show,\n     Holy Justice, he shall never\n      Thy severest virtue know.\n\n STROPHE III.\n     Lordless life, or despot-ridden,\n     Be they both from me forbidden.\n     To the wise mean strength is given,[n40]\n     Thus the gods have ruled in heaven;\n     Gods, that gently or severely\n     Judge, discerning all things clearly.\n     Mark my word, I tell thee truly,\n     Pride, that lifts itself unduly,[n41]\n     Had a godless heart for sire.\n     Healthy-minded moderation\n     Wins the wealthy consummation,\n       Every heart's desire.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n     Yet, again, I tell thee truly,\n     At Justice' altar bend thee duly.\n     Wean thine eye from lawless yearning\n     After gain; with godless spurning\n     Smite not thou that shrine most holy.\n     Punishment, that travels slowly,\n     Comes at last, when least thou fearest.\n     Yet, once more; with truth sincerest,\n     Love thy parents and revere,\n {159}\n     And the guest, that to protect him,\n     Claims thy guardian roof, respect him,\n       With an holy fear.[f17]\n\n STROPHE IV.\n     Whoso, with no forced endeavour,\n       Sin-eschewing liveth,\n     Him to hopeless ruin never\n       Jove the Saviour giveth.\n     But whose hand, with greed rapacious,\n       Draggeth all things for his prey,\n     He shall strike his flag audacious,\n       When the god-sent storm shall bray,\n         Winged with fate at last;\n     When the stayless sail is flapping,\n     When the sail-yard swings, and, snapping,\n         Crashes to the blast.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n     He shall call, but none shall hear him,\n       When dark ocean surges;\n     None with saving hand shall near him,\n       When his prayer he urges.\n     Laughs the god, to see him vainly\n       Grasping at the crested rock;\n       Fool, who boasted once profanely\n     Firm to stand in Fortune's shock;\n       Who so great had been\n     His freighted wealth with fearful crashing,\n     On the rock of Justice dashing,\n       Dies, unwept, unseen.\n\n   [_Enter_ ATHENA, _behind a Herald._\n\n ATHENA.\n Herald, proclaim the diet, and command\n The people to attention; with strong breath\n Give the air-shattering Tyrrhene trump free voice,[n42]\n To speak shrill-throated to the assembled throngs;\n And, while the judges take their solemn seats,\n In hushed submission, let the city hear\n My laws that shall endure for aye; and these,\n In hushed submission, wait the righteous doom.\n\n {160}\n\n   [_Enter_ APOLLO.[n43]\n\n CHORUS.\n Sovran Apollo, rule where thou art lord;\n But here what business brings the prophet? Speak.\n\n APOLLO.\n I come a witness of the truth; this man\n Is suppliant to me, he on my hearth\n Found refuge, him I purified from blood.\n I, too, am patron of his cause, I share\n The blame, if blame there be, in that he slew\n His mother. Pallas, order thou the trial.\n\n ATHENA.\n (_to the Furies_)\n Speak ye the first, 'tis wiseliest ordered thus,\n That, who complains, his plaint set forth in order,\n Point after point, articulately clear.\n\n CHORUS.\n Though we be many, yet our words are few.\n Answer thou singly, as we singly ask;\n This first--art thou the murderer of thy mother?\n\n ORESTES.\n I did the deed. This fact hath no denial.\n\n CHORUS.\n Once worsted! With three fits I gain the trial.\n\n ORESTES.\n Boast, when thou seest me fall. As yet I stand.\n\n CHORUS.\n This answer now--how didst thou do the deed.\n\n ORESTES.\n Thus; with my pointed dagger, in the neck\n I smote her.\n\n CHORUS.\n             Who the bloody deed advised?\n\n ORESTES.\n The god of oracles. Here he stands to witness.\n\n CHORUS.\n Commanding murder with prophetic nod?\n\n ORESTES.\n Ay! and even now I do not blame the god.\n\n CHORUS.\n Soon, soon, thou'lt blame him, when the pebble drops\n Into the urn of justice with thy doom.\n\n ORESTES.\n My murdered sire will aid me from the tomb.\n\n CHORUS.\n Trust in the dead; in thy dead mother trust.\n\n ORESTES.\n She died, with two foul blots well marked for vengeance.\n\n CHORUS.\n How so? This let the judges understand.\n\n ORESTES.\n The hand that killed her husband killed my father.\n\n CHORUS.\n If she for her crimes died, why livest thou?\n\n ORESTES.\n If her thou didst not vex, why vex me now?\n\n CHORUS.\n She slew a man, but not of kindred blood.\n\n ORESTES.\n Is the son's blood all to the mother kin,\n None to the father?\n\n CHORUS.\n                    Peace, thou sin-stained monster!\n Dost thou abjure the dearest blood, the mother's\n That bore thee 'neath her zone?\n\n ORESTES.\n (_to_ APOLLO)\n                                Be witness thou.\n Apollo, speak for me, if by the rule\n {161}\n Of Justice she was murdered. That the deed\n Was done, and by these hands, I not deny;\n If justly or unjustly blood was spilt,\n Thou knowest. Teach me how to make reply.\n\n APOLLO.\n I speak to you, Athena's mighty council;\n And what I speak is truth: the prophet lies not.\n From my oracular seat was published never\n To man, to woman, or to city aught\n By my Olympian sire unfathered.[f18] Ye\n How Justice sways the scale will wisely weigh;\n But this remember--what my father wills\n Is law. Jove's will is stronger than an oath.\n\n CHORUS.\n Jove, say'st thou, touched thy tongue with inspiration,\n To teach Orestes that he might avenge\n A father's death by murdering a mother?\n\n APOLLO.\n His was no common father--Agamemnon,\n Honoured the kingly sceptre god-bestowed\n To bear--he slain by a weak woman, not\n By furious Amazon with far-darting bow,\n But in such wise as I shall now set forth\n To thee, Athena, and to these that sit\n On this grave bench of judgment. Him returning\n All prosperous from the wars, with fairest welcome\n She hailed her lord, and in the freshening bath\n Bestowed him; there, ev'n while he laved, she came\n Spreading death's mantle out, and, in a web\n Of curious craft entangled, stabbed him. Such\n Was the sad fate of this most kingly man,\n Of all revered, the fleet's high admiral.\n A tale it is to prick your heart with pity,\n Even yours that seal the judgment.\n\n CHORUS.\n                                   Jove, thou sayest,\n Prefers the father: yet himself did bind\n With bonds his hoary-dated father Kronos.[n44]\n Make this with that to square, and thou art wise.\n Ye judges, mark me, if I reason well.\n\n APOLLO.\n O odious monsters, of all gods abhorred!\n A chain made fast may be untied again.\n This ill hath many cures; but, when the dust\n Hath once drunk blood, no power can raise it. Jove\n Himself doth know no charm to disenchant\n Death; other things he turns both up and down,\n At his good pleasure, fainting not in strength.\n\n {162}\n\n CHORUS.\n Consider well whereto thy words will lead thee.\n How shall this man, who spilt his mother's blood,\n Dwell in his father's halls at Argos? How\n Devoutly kneel at the public altar? How\n With any clanship share lustration?[n45]\n\n APOLLO.\n                                    This\n Likewise I'll answer. Mark me! whom we call\n The mother begets not;[n46] she is but the nurse,\n Whose fostering breast the new-sown seed receives.\n The father truly gets; the dam but cherishes\n A stranger-bud, that, if the gods be kind,\n May blossom soon, and bear. Behold a proof!\n Without a mother may a child be born,\n Not so without a father. Which to witness\n Here is this daughter of Olympian Jove,\n Not nursed in darkness, in the womb, and yet\n She stands a goddess, heavenly mother ne'er\n Bore greater. Pallas, here I plight my faith\n To magnify thy city and thy people;\n And I this suppliant to thy hearth hath sent,\n Thy faithful ally ever. May the league\n Here sworn to-day their children's children bind!\n\n ATHENA.\n Now judges, as your judgment is, I charge you,\n So vote the doom. Words we have had enough.\n\n CHORUS.\n Our quiver's emptied. We await the doom.\n\n ATHENA.\n How should the sentence fall to keep me free\n Of your displeasure?\n\n CHORUS.\n                     What we said we said.\n Even as your heart informs you, nothing fearing,\n So judges justly vote, the oath revering.\n\n ATHENA.\n Now, hear my ordinance, Athenians![n47] Ye,\n In this first strife of blood, umpires elect,\n While age on age shall roll, the sons of Aegeus\n This Council shall revere. Here, on this hill,\n The embattled Amazons pitched their tents of yore,[n48]\n What time with Theseus striving, they their tents\n Against these high-towered infant walls uptowered.\n To Mars they sacrificed, and, to this day,\n This Mars' Hill speaks their story. Here, Athenians,\n Shall reverence of the gods, and holy fear,\n That shrinks from wrong, both night and day possess,\n A place apart, so long as fickle change\n Your ancient laws disturbs not; but, if this\n {163}\n Pure fount with muddy streams ye trouble, ye\n Shall draw the draught in vain. From anarchy\n And slavish masterdom alike my ordinance\n Preserve my people! Cast not from your walls\n All high authority; for where no fear\n Awful remains, what mortal will be just?\n This holy reverence use, and ye possess\n A bulwark, and a safeguard of the land,\n Such as no race of mortals vaunteth, far\n In Borean Scythia, or the land of Pelops.[f19]\n This council I appoint intact to stand\n From gain, a venerated conclave, quick\n In pointed indignation, when all sleep\n A sleepless watch. These words of warning hear,\n My citizens for ever. Now ye judges\n Rise, take your pebbles, and by vote decide,\n The sacred oath revering. I have spoken.\n\n   [_The_ AEROPAGITES _advance; and, as each puts his pebble into the\n   urn, the_ CHORUS _and_ APOLLO _alternately address them as follows:_\n\n CHORUS.\n I warn ye well: the sisterhood beware,\n Whose wrath hangs heavier than the land may bear.\n\n APOLLO.\n I warn ye well: Jove is my father; fear\n To turn to nought the words of me, his seer.\n\n CHORUS.\n If thou dost plead, where thou hast no vocation,\n For blood, will men respect thy divination?\n\n APOLLO.\n Must then my father share thy condemnation,\n When first he heard Ixion's supplication?\n\n CHORUS.\n Thou say'st.[n49] But I, if justice be denied me,\n Will sorely smite the land that so defied me.\n\n APOLLO.\n Among the gods the elder, and the younger,\n Thou hast no favour; I shall prove the stronger.\n\n CHORUS.\n Such were thy deeds in Pheres' house,[n50] deceiving\n The Fates, and mortal men from death reprieving.\n\n APOLLO.\n Was it a crime to help a host? to lend\n A friendly hand to raise a sinking friend?\n\n CHORUS.\n Thou the primeval Power didst undermine,\n Mocking the hoary goddesses with wine.\n\n APOLLO.\n Soon, very soon, when I the cause shall gain,\n Thou'lt spit thy venom on the ground in vain.\n\n {164}\n\n CHORUS.\n Thou being young, dost jeer my ancient years\n With youthful insolence; till the doom appears,\n I'll patient wait; my hot-spurred wrath I'll stay,\n And even-poised betwixt two tempers sway.\n\n ATHENA.\n My part remains; and I this crowning pebble\n Drop to Orestes; for I never knew\n The mother's womb that bore me.[f20] I give honor,\n Save in my virgin nature, to the male\n In all things; all my father lives in me.[n51]\n Not blameless be the wife, who dared to slay\n Her husband, lord and ruler of her home.\n My voice is for Orestes; though the votes\n Fall equal from the urn, my voice shall save him.\n Now shake the urn, to whom this duty falls,\n And tell the votes.\n\n ORESTES.\n                    O Ph\u0153bus, how shall end\n This doubtful issue?\n\n CHORUS.\n                     O dark Night, my mother,\n Behold these things!\n\n ORESTES.\n                     One moment blinds me quite,\n Or to a blaze of glory opes my eyes.\n\n CHORUS.\n We sink to shame, or to more honor rise.\n\n APOLLO.[n52]\n Judges, count well the pebbles as they fall,\n And with just jealousy divide them. One\n Being falsely counted works no simple harm.\n One little pebble saves a mighty house.\n\n ATHENA.\n Hear now the doom. This man from blood is free.\n The votes are equal; he escapes by me.\n\n ORESTES.\n O Pallas, Saviour of my father's house,\n Restorer of the exile's hope, Athena,\n I praise thee! Now belike some Greek will say,\n The Argive man revisiteth the homes\n And fortunes of his father, by the aid\n Of Pallas, Loxias, and Jove the Saviour\n All-perfecting, who pled the father's cause,\n Fronting the wrathful Furies of the mother!\n I now depart: and to this land I leave,\n And to this people, through all future time,\n An oath behind me, that no lord of Argos\n Shall ever brandish the well-pointed spear\n Against this friendly land.[f21] When, from the tomb,\n {165}\n I shall perceive who disregards this oath\n Of my sons' sons, I will perplex that man\n With sore perplexities inextricable;\n Ways of despair, and evil-birded paths[f22]\n Shall be his portion, cursing his own choice.\n But if my vows be duly kept, with those\n That in the closely-banded league shall aid\n Athena's city, I am present ever.\n Then fare thee well, thou and thy people! Never\n May foe escape thy grasp! When thou dost struggle,\n Safety and victory attend thy spear! [_Exit._\n\n CHORUS.\n     Curse on your cause,\n     Ye gods that are younger!\n     O'er the time-hallowed laws\n     Rough ye ride as the stronger.\n     Of the prey that was ours\n     Ye with rude hands bereave us,\n     'Mid the dark-dreaded Powers\n     Shorn of honor ye leave us.\n     Behold, on the ground\n     From a heart of hostility,\n     I sprinkle around\n     Black gouts of sterility!\n     A plague I will bring,\n     With a dry lichen spreading;\n     No green blade shall spring\n     Where the Fury is treading.\n     To abortion I turn\n     The birth of the blooming,\n     Where the plague-spot shall burn\n     Of my wrath, life-consuming.\n     I am mocked,[f23] but in vain\n     They rejoice at my moaning;\n     They shall pay for my pain,\n     With a fearful atoning,\n     Who seized on my right,\n     And, with wrong unexampled,\n     On the daughters of Night\n     High scornfully trampled.\n\n {166}\n\n ATHENA.\n Be ruled by me: your heavy-bosomed groans\n Refrain. Not vanquished thou, but the fair vote\n Leapt equal from the urn, with no disgrace\n To thee. From Jove himself clear witness came;\n The oracular god that urged the deed, the same\n Stood here to vouch it, that Orestes might not\n Reap harm from his obedience. Soothe ye, therefore;\n Cast not your bolted vengeance on this land,\n Your gouts of wrath divine distil not, stings\n Of pointed venom, with keen corrosive power\n Eating life's seeds, all barrenness and blight.\n A home within this land I pledge you, here\n A shrine, a refuge, and a hearth secure,\n Where ye on shining thrones shall sit, my city\n Yielding devoutest homage to your power.\n\n CHORUS.\n     Curse on your cause,\n     Ye gods that are younger!\n     O'er the time-hallowed laws\n     Rough ye ride, as the stronger.\n     Of the prey that was ours\n     Ye with rude hands bereave us,\n     'Mid the dark-dreaded Powers\n     Shorn of honor ye leave us.\n     Behold, on the ground\n     From a heart of hostility,\n     I sprinkle around\n     Black gouts of sterility!\n     A plague I will bring\n     With a dry lichen spreading;\n     No green blade shall spring\n     Where the Fury is treading.\n     To abortion I turn\n     The birth of the blooming,\n     Where the plague-spot shall burn\n     Of my wrath, life-consuming.\n     I am mocked, but in vain\n     They rejoice at my moaning;\n     They shall pay for my pain,\n     With a fearful atoning,\n     Who seized on my right,\n     And, with wrong unexampled,\n     On the daughters of Night\n     High scornfully trampled.\n\n {167}\n\n ATHENA.\n Dishonoured are ye not: Spit not your rancour\n On this fair land remediless. Rests my trust\n On Jove, the mighty, I of all the gods\n Sharing alone the strong keys that unlock\n His thunder-halls:[n53] but this I name not here.\n Yield thou: cast not the seed of reckless speech\n To crop the land with woe. Soothing the waves\n Of bitter anger darkling in thy breast,\n Dwell in this land, thy dreadful deity\n Sistered with me. When thronging worshippers\n Henceforth shall cull choice firstlings for thine altars,\n Praying thy grace to bless the wedded rite,\n And the child-bearing womb--then honoured so,\n How wise my present counsel thou shalt know.\n\n CHORUS.\n VOICE 1.\n     I to dwell 'neath the Earth\n      All clipt of my glory,\n     In the dark-chambered Earth,\n      I, the ancient, the hoary!\n\n VOICE 2.\n     I breathe on thee curses,\n     I cut through thy marrow,\n     For the insult that pierces\n     My heart like an arrow.\n\n VOICE 3.\n     Hear my cry, mother Night,\n     'Gainst the gods that deceived me!\n     With their harsh-handed might\n     Of my right they bereaved me.\n\n ATHENA.\n Thy anger I forgive; for thou'rt the elder.\n But though thy years bring wisdom, to me also\n Jove gave a heart, not undiscerning. You--\n Mark well my words--if now some foreign land\n Ye choose, will rue your choice, and long for Athens.\n The years to be shall float more richly fraught\n With honor to my citizens; thou shaft hold\n An honoured seat beside Erectheus' home,[n54]\n Where men and women in marshalled pomp shall pay thee\n Such homage, as no land on Earth may render.\n But cast not ye on this my chosen land\n Whetstones of fury, teaching knives to drink\n The blood of tender bowels, madding the heart\n With wineless drunkenness, that men shall swell\n Like game cocks for the battle; save my city\n {168}\n From brothered strife, and from domestic brawls.[n55]\n Without the walls, and far from kindred hearths\n Rage war, where honor calls, and glory crowns.\n A bird of blood within the house I love not.\n Use thine election; wisely use it; give\n A blessing, and a blessing take; with me\n May this land dear to the gods be dear to thee!\n\n CHORUS.\n VOICE 1.\n     I to dwell 'neath the Earth\n      All clipt of my glory,\n     In the dark-chambered Earth\n      I, the ancient, the hoary!\n\n VOICE 2.\n     I breathe on thee curses,\n     I cut through thy marrow,\n     For the insult that pierces\n     My heart like an arrow.\n\n VOICE 3.\n     Hear my cry, mother Night,\n     'Gainst the gods that deceived me!\n     With their harsh-handed might\n     Of my right they bereaved me.\n\n ATHENA.\n To advise thee well I faint not. Never more\n Shalt thou, a hoary-dated power, complain\n That I, a younger, or my citizens,\n From our inhospitable gates expelled thee\n Of thy due honors shortened. If respect\n For sacred Peitho's[f24] godhead, for the honey\n And charming of the tongue may move thee, stay;\n But, if ye will go, show of justice none\n Remains, with rancour, wrath, and scathe to smite\n This land and people. Stands your honoured lot\n With me for ever, so ye scorn it not.\n\n CHORUS.\n Sovran Athena, what sure home receives me?\n\n ATHENA.\n A home from sorrow free. Receive it freely.\n\n CHORUS.\n And when received, what honors wait me then?\n\n ATHENA.\n No house shall prosper where thy blessing fails.\n\n CHORUS.\n This by thy grace is sure?\n\n ATHENA.\n                           I will upbuild\n His house who honours thee.\n\n CHORUS.\n                            This pledged for ever?\n\n ATHENA.\n I cannot promise what I not perform.\n\n CHORUS.\n Thy words have soothed me, and my wrath relents.\n\n {169}\n\n ATHENA.\n Here harboured thou wilt number many friends.\n\n CHORUS.\n Say, then, how shall my hymn uprise to bless thee?\n\n ATHENA.\n Hymn things that strike fair victory's mark: from Earth,\n From the sea's briny dew, and from the sky\n Bring blessings; the benignly-breathing gales\n On summer wings be wafted to this land;\n Let the Earth swell with the exuberant flow\n Of fruits and flowers, that want may be unknown.\n Bless human seed with increase, but cast out\n The impious man; even as a gardener, I\n Would tend the flowers, the briars and the thorns\n Heaped for the burning. This thy province. I\n In feats of Mars conspicuous will not fail\n To plant this city 'fore all eyes triumphant.\n\n STROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n Pallas, thy welcome so kindly compelling\n Hath moved me; I scorn not to mingle my dwelling\n With thine, and with Jove's, the all-ruling, thy sire.\n The city I scorn not, where Mars guards the portals,\n The fortress of gods,[n56] the fair grace of Immortals.\n I bless thee prophetic; to work thy desire\n To the Sun, when he shines in his full-flooded splendour,\n Her tribute to thee may the swelling Earth render,\n    And bounty with bounty conspire!\n\n ATHENA.\n Athens, no trifling gain I've won thee.\n With rich blessing thou shalt harbour,\n Through my grace, these much-prevailing\n Sternest-hearted Powers. For they\n Rule, o'er human fates appointed,\n   With far-reaching sway.\n Woe to the wretch, by their wrath smitten![n57]\n With strokes he knows not whence descending,\n Not for his own, for guilt inherited,[n58]\n They with silent-footed vengeance\n Shall o'ertake him: in the dust,\n Heaven with piercing cries imploring,\n   Crushed the sinner lies.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n Far from thy dwelling, and far from thy border,\n By the grace of my godhead benignant I order\n {170}\n The blight that may blacken the bloom of thy trees.\n Far from thy border, and far from thy dwelling\n Be the hot blast that shrivels the bud in its swelling,\n The seed-rotting taint, and the creeping disease!\n Thy flocks still be doubled, thy seasons be steady,\n And, when Hermes is near thee,[n59] thy hand still be ready\n    The Heaven-dropt bounty to seize!\n\n ATHENA.\n    Hear her words, my city's warders,\n    Fraught with blessing; she prevaileth\n    With Olympians and Infernals,\n    Dread Erinnys much revered.\n    Mortal fates she guideth plainly\n    To what goal she pleaseth, sending\n    Songs to some, to others days\n       With tearful sorrows dulled.\n\n STROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n      Far from your dwelling\n      Be death's early knelling,\n    When falls in his green strength the strong\n      Your virgins, the fairest,\n      To brave youths the rarest\n    Be mated, glad life to prolong!\n      Ye Fates, high-presiding,[n60]\n      The right well dividing,\n    Dread powers darkly mothered with me;\n      Our firm favour sharing,\n      From judgment unsparing\n    The homes of the just man be free!\n      But the guilty shall fear them,\n      When in terror shall near them\n    The Fates, sternly sistered with me.\n\n ATHENA.\n    Work your perfect will, dread maidens,\n    O'er my land benignly watching!\n    I rejoice. Blest be the eyes\n    Of Peitho, that with strong persuasion\n    Armed my tongue, to soothe the fierce\n    Refusal of these awful maids.\n    Jove, that rules the forum, nobly\n    In the high debate hath conquered.[n61]\n    In the strife of blessing now,\n    You with me shall vie for ever.\n\n {171}\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n      Far from thy border\n      The lawless disorder,\n    That sateless of evil shall reign!\n      Far from thy dwelling\n      The dear blood welling,\n    That taints thy own hearth with the stain,\n      When slaughter from slaughter\n      Shall flow, like the water,\n    And rancour from rancour shall grow!\n      But joy with joy blending\n      Live, each to all lending,\n    And hating one-hearted the foe!\n      When bliss hath departed,\n      From will single-hearted,\n    A fountain of healing shall flow.\n\n ATHENA.\n    Wisely now the tongue of kindness\n    Thou hast found, the way of love;\n    And these terror-speaking faces\n    Now look wealth to me and mine.\n    Her so willing, ye more willing\n    Now receive; this land and city,\n    On ancient right securely throned,\n      Shall shine for evermore.\n\n STROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n Hail, and all hail! mighty people be greeted!\n On the sons of Athena shine sunshine the clearest!\n Blest people, near Jove the Olympian seated,\n And dear to the virgin his daughter the dearest.\n Timely wise 'neath the wings of the daughter ye gather;\n And mildly looks down on her children the father.\n\n ATHENA.\n    Hail, all hail to you! but chiefly\n    Me behoves it now to lead you\n    To your fore-appointed homes.\n    Go, with holy train attendant,\n    With sacrifice, and torch resplendent,\n      Underneath the ground.\n    Go, and with your potent godhead\n    Quell the ill that threats the city,\n    Spur the good to victory's goal.\n    Lead the way ye sons of Cranaus,[f25]\n {172}\n    To these strangers, strange no more;\n    Their kindly thoughts to you remember,\n      Grateful evermore.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n Hail, yet again, with this last salutation,\n Ye sons of Athena, ye citizens all!\n On gods, and on mortals, in high congregation\n Assembled, my blessing not vainly shall fall.\n O city of Pallas, while thou shalt revere me,\n Thy walls hold the pledge that no harm shall come near thee.\n\n ATHENA.\n Well hymned. My heart chimes with you, and I send\n The beamy-twinkling torches to conduct you\n To your dark-vaulted chambers 'neath the ground.\n They who attend my shrine, with pious homage,\n Shall be your convoy. The fair eye of the land,\n The marshalled host of Theseus' sons shall march\n In festive train with you, both man and woman,\n Matron and maid, green youth and hoary age.\n Honor the awful maids, clad with the grace\n Of purple-tinctured robes; and let the flame\n March 'fore their path bright-rayed; and, evermore,\n With populous wealth smile every Attic rood\n Blessed by this gracious-minded sisterhood.[n62]\n\n   [CONVOY, _conducting the_ EUMENIDES _in festal pomp to their\n   subterranean temple, with torches in their hands:_\n\n STROPHE I.\n    Go with honor crowned and glory,\n    Of hoary Night the daughters hoary,\n      To your destined hall.\n    Where our sacred train is wending,\n    Stand, ye pious throngs attending,\n      Hushed in silence all.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n    Go to hallowed habitations,\n    'Neath Ogygian[f26] Earth's foundations:\n      In that darksome hall\n    Sacrifice and supplication\n    Shall not fail. In adoration\n      Silent worship all.\n\n {173}\n\n STROPHE II.\n    Here, in caverned halls, abiding,\n    High on awful thrones presiding,\n      Gracious ye shall reign.\n    March in torches' glare rejoicing!\n    Sing, ye throngs, their praises, voicing\n      Loud the exultant strain!\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n    Blazing torch, and pure libation\n    From age to age this pious nation\n      Shall not use in vain.\n    Thus hath willed it Jove all-seeing,\n    Thus the Fate. To their decreeing\n      Shout the responsive strain!\n\n[The End]\n\n\n\nPROMETHEUS BOUND\n\n{175}\n\nA LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE\n\n \u0394\u1fc6\u03c3\u03b5 \u03b4\u1fbd \u1f00\u03bb\u03c5\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c0\u03ad\u03b4\u1fc3\u03c3\u03b9 \u03a0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03b7\u03b8\u03ad\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b9\u03bb\u03cc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd\n \u0394\u03b5\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1\u03bb\u03ad\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9.\n                                    HESIOD.\n\n Neither to change, nor flatter, nor repent.\n                                   SHELLEY.\n\n\n\nPERSONS\n\n{176}\n\n MIGHT and FORCE, Ministers of Jove.\n HEPHAESTHUS or VULCAN, the God of Fire.\n PROMETHEUS, Son of Iapetus, a Titan.\n CHORUS OF OCEANIDES.\n OCEANUS.\n IO, Daughter of Inachus, King of Argos.\n HERMES, Messenger of the Gods.\n\nSCENE--_A Rocky Desert in European Scythia._\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY REMARKS\n\n{177}\n\nIN the mythology of the ancient Greeks, as of many other nations, we\nfind the earlier periods characterised by a series of terrible mundane\nstruggles--wars in Heaven and wars on Earth--which serve as an\nintroduction to, and a preparation for the more regularly ordered and\nmore permanent dynasty that ultimately sways the sceptre of Olympus. In\nthe theological poem of Hesiod, as in the prose narration of\nApollodorus, HEAVEN and EARTH are represented as the rulers of the\nfirst celestial dynasty; their offspring, called Titans, in the person\nof one of their number, KRONOS, by a violent act of dethronement,\nforms a second dynasty; while he, in his turn, after a no less violent\nstruggle, gives place to a third sceptre--viz., that of JOVE--who, in\nthe faith of the orthodox Athenian, was the supreme ruler of the world\nof gods, and men, now, after many throes and struggles, arrived, at its\nnormal state, not henceforward to be disturbed. The general character\nwhich this succession of dynasties exhibits, is that of order arising\nout of confusion, peace out of war, and wisely-reasoned plan triumphing\nover brute force--\n\n        \"Scimus ut impios\n  Titanas immanemque turmam\n    Fulmine sustulerit caduco,\n  Qui terram inertem, qui mare temperat\n  Ventosum, et urbes, regnaque tristia,\n   Divosque, mortalesque turbas,\n    Imperio regit unus aequo.\"\n\nThis representation of the philosophic lyrist of a late age is in\nperfect harmony with the epithets \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03cc\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 and \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ad\u03c4\u03b1 given to Jove by\nthe earliest Greek poets, and with the allegory by  which \u039c\u1fc6\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2, or\n_Counsel_ personified, is represented as one of the wives of the Supreme\nRuler. It is worthy of notice also, in the same view, that the legends\nabout the Titans, Giants, and other Earth-born monsters, warring with\nJove, are often attached to districts--such as Campania and Cilicia--in\nwhich the signs of early volcanic action are, even at the present day,\nunmistakeable; plainly indicating that such mythic narrations were only\nexhibitions, in the historical form (according to the early style), of\ngreat elemental convulsions and physical changes taking place on the\nface of the Earth.\n\n{178}\n\nAmong the persons most prominent in that primeval age of gigantic\n\"world-strife\" (if we may be allowed to Anglicize a German compound)\nstands Prometheus; not, however, like his Titan brethren in character,\nthough identical with them in descent, and in the position which he\nfinally assumed towards the god in whose hands the supreme government of\nthe world eventually remained. Prometheus, as his name denotes, strives\nagainst the high authority of Jove, not by that \"reasonless force which\nfalls by its own weight,\" but by intelligence and cunning. Viewed in\nthis character, he was the natural ally, not of the serpent-footed\nGiants and the flame-breathing Typhon, but of the All-wise Olympian; and\nsuch, indeed, \u00c6schylus, in the present piece (v. 219, p. 189 below),\nrepresents as having been his original position: but, as \"before honor\nis humility, and before pride comes a fall,\" so the son of Iapetus, like\nTantalus, and so many others in the profoundly moral mythology of the\nHellenes, found himself exalted into the fellowship of the blissful\ngods, only that he might be precipitated into a more terrible depth of\nmisery. He was wise; nay, benevolent (\u1f04\u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1, Hesiod. Theog.,\n614); his delight was to exercise his high intellect in the elevation of\nthe infant human race, sunk in a state of almost brutish stupidity; he\nstood forward as an incarnation of that practical intellect (so\ntriumphant in these latter days), which subjects the rude elements of\nnature, for human use and convenience, to mechanical calculation and\ncontrol; but, with all this, he was proud, he was haughty; his Titanic\nstrength and his curious intellect he used, to shake himself free from\nall dependence on the highest power, which the constitution of things\nhad ordered should stand as the strong key-stone of the whole. Not to\nruin mankind, but to save them, he sinned the sin of Lucifer; he would\nmake himself God; and, as in the eye of a court-martial, the subaltern\nwho usurps the functions of the commander-in-chief stands not acquitted,\nbecause he alleges that he acted with a benevolent intent, or for the\npublic good, so, in the faith of an orthodox Athenian, Prometheus was\nnot the less worthy of his airy chains because he defied the will of\nJove in the championship of mankind. Neither man nor god may question or\nimpugn the divine decree of supreme Jove, on grounds of expediency or\npropriety. With the will of Zeus, as with the laws of nature, there is\nno arguing. In this relationship the first, second, and third point of\nduty is submission. Such is the doctrine of modern Christian theology;\nsuch, also, was the doctrine of the old Hellenic theologer, HESIOD--\n\n{179}\n\n  Vain the wit is of the wisest to deceive the mind of Jove;\n  Not Prometheus, son of Iapetus, though his heart was moved by love,\n  Might escape the heavy anger of the god that rules the skies,\n  But, despite of all his cunning, with a strong chain bound he lies.\n                                                      THEOG. 613.\n\nThose who are acquainted with the philological learning on this subject,\nwhich I have discussed elsewhere,[f1] or even with the common\nideas on the legend of Prometheus brought into circulation by the\nproductions of modern poetry, are aware that the view just given of the\nmoral significance of this weighty old myth, is not the current one, and\nthat we are rather accustomed to look upon Prometheus as a sort of\nproto-martyr of liberty, bearing up with the strength of a god against\nthe punishment unjustly inflicted on him by the celestial usurper and\ntyrant, Jove. But Hesiod, we have just seen, looks on the matter with\nvery different eyes; and the unquestioned supremacy of Jove that stands\nout everywhere, from the otherwise not always consistent theological\nsystem of the Iliad, leads plainly to the conclusion that Homer also,\nhad he had occasion to introduce this legend, would have handled it in a\nspirit altogether different from our Shelleys and Byrons, and other\nearth-shaking and heaven-scaling poets of the modern revolutionary\nschool. As little is there any ground (see the life of \u00c6schylus)\nfor the supposition that our tragedian has taken up different\ntheological ground in reference to this myth, from that which belonged\nto the two great expositors of the popular creed; not to mention the\nstaring absurdity of the idea, that a grave tragic poet in a serious\ncomposition, at a public religious festival, should have dared, or\ndaring, should have been allowed, to hold up their supreme deity to a\nnation of freemen in the character of a cruel and unjust tyrant. Thrown\nback, therefore, on the original Hesiodic conception of the myth, we are\nled to observe that the imperfect and unsatisfactory ideas so current on\nthis subject in modern times, have taken their rise from the practice\n(so natural under the circumstances) of looking on the extant piece as\na complete whole, whereas nothing is more certain than that it is only a\nfragment; the second part, in fact, of a dramatic trilogy similar in\nconception and execution to that, of which we have endeavoured to\npresent a reflection in the preceding pages. Potter, in his translation\npublished a hundred years ago, prefaced his version of the present piece\nwith the well-known fact, that \u00c6schylus wrote three plays on this\nsubject--_the Fire-bringing Prometheus, the Prometheus Bound, and the\nPrometheus Unbound_--this intimation {180} was not sufficient to prevent\nhis readers, with the usual hastiness of human logic, from judging of\nwhat they saw, as if it were an organic whole, containing within itself\nevery element necessary for forming a true conception of its character.\nThe consequence was, that the hero of the piece, who, of course, tells\nhis own story in the most favourable way for himself, was considered as\nhaving passed a final judgment on the case; as the friend and\nrepresentative of man, he naturally seemed entitled to the gratitude of\nmen; while Jove, being now only an idol in the world (perhaps a devil),\nand having no advocate in the heart of the modern reader, was made to\nstand--on the representation of the same Prometheus--as the type of\nheartless tyranny, and the impersonation of absolute power combined with\nabsolute selfishness. This is Shelley's view; but that such was not the\nview of \u00c6schylus we may be assured, both from the consideration already\nmentioned, and from the poet's method of reconciling apparently\nincompatible claims of opposite celestial powers, so curiously exhibited\nin the Eumenides. In the trilogy of the preceding pages, Orestes stands\nin a situation, so far as the development of the plot is concerned,\nprecisely analogous to that of Prometheus in the present piece. His\nconduct, as submitted to the moral judgment of the spectator, produces\nthe same conflict of contrary emotions of which his own bosom is the\nvictim. With the one-half of our heart we approve of his avenging his\nfather's murder; with the other half, we plead that a son shall, on no\nground of offence, allow his indignation to proceed so far as to imbrue\nhis hands in the blood of her whose milk he had sucked. This contrariety\nof emotions excited in the second piece of the trilogy, produces the\ntragic knot, which it is the business of the poet to unloose, by the\nworthy interposition of a god. \"_Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice\nnodus_.\"--Exactly so in the second piece of the Promethean trilogy, our\nmoral judgment praises the benevolence of the god, who, to elevate our\nhuman race from brutish degradation, dared to defy omnipotent power, and\nto deceive the wisdom of the omniscient; while, at the same time, we\ncannot but condemn the spirit of unreined independence that would shake\nitself free from the great centre of moral cohesion, and the reckless\nboldness that casts reproach in, the face of the great Ruler of the\nuniverse. In this state of suspense, represented by the doubtful\nattitude of the Chorus[f2] through the whole play, the present\nfragment of the great \u00c6schylean Promethiad leaves the well-instructed\nmodern reader; and it admits {181} not, in my view, of a doubt that, in\nthe concluding piece, it remained for the poet to effect a\nreconciliation between the contending interests and clashing emotions,\nsomewhat after the fashion of which we possess a specimen in the\nEumenides. By what agency of individuals or of arguments this was done,\nit is hopeless now to inquire; the fragmentary notices that remain are\ntoo meagre to justify a scientific restoration of the lost drama; they\nwho wish to see what erudite imagination can do in this direction may\nconsult Welcker and Schoemann--WELCKER, in the shape of prose\ndissertation in his _Trilogie_, p. 28; and SCHOEMANN, in the shape of\na poetical restoration of the lost poem, in the Appendix to his very\nvaluable edition of this play. About one thing only can we be certain,\nthat, in the ultimate settlement of disputed claims, neither will\nPrometheus, on the one hand, be degraded from the high position on which\nthe poet has planted him as a sort of umpire between gods and men, nor\nwill Jove yield one whit of his supreme right to exact the bitterest\npenalties from man or god who presumes to act independently of, and even\nin opposition to his will. The tragic poet will duly exercise his grand\nfunction of keeping the powers of the celestial world--as he does the\ncontending emotions of the human mind--in due equipoise and\nsubordination.[f3]\n\nThe plot of the Prometheus Unbound is the simplest possible, being not\nso much the dramatic progression of a course of events, as a single\ndramatic situation presented through the whole piece under different\naspects. The theft of fire from Heaven, or (as the notice of Cicero\nseems to indicate) from the Lemnian volcano of Mosychlos,[f4]\nhaving been perpetrated in the previous piece, MIGHT and FORCE, two\nallegorical personages, the ministers of Jove's vengeance, are now\nintroduced, along with HEPHAESTUS, the forger of celestial chains,\nnailing the benevolent offender to a cold craggy rock in the wastes of\nEuropean Scythia. In this condition when, after a long silence, he at\nlength gives vent to his complaint, certain kindred divine\npersons--first, the Oceanides, or daughters of Ocean, and then their\nhoary sire himself, are brought on the scene, with words of solace and\nfriendly exhortation to the sufferer.[f5] When all the arguments\nthat these parties have to advance are exhausted in vain, another mythic\npersonage, of a different character, and for a {182} different purpose,\nappears. This is Io, the daughter of Inachus, the primeval king of\nArgos, who, having enjoyed the unblissful distinction of stirring the\nheart of Jove with love, is, by the jealous wrath of Hera, transmuted\ninto the likeness of a cow[f6] and sent wandering to the ends of\nthe Earth, fretted into restless distraction by the stings of a\nmalignant insect. This character serves a threefold purpose. First, as a\nsufferer, tracing the origin of all her misery from Jove, she both\nsympathizes strongly with Prometheus, and exhibits the character of Jove\nin another unfavourable aspect; secondly, with her wild maniac cries and\nreinless fits of distraction, she presents a fine contrast to the calm\nself-possession with which the stout-hearted Titan endures the penalty\nof his pride; and, in the third place, as the progenitrix of the Argive\nHercules, the destined instrument of the delivery of Prometheus, she\nconnects the middle with the concluding piece of the trilogy. Last of\nall, when this strange apparition has vanished, appears on the scene the\ngreat Olympian negotiator, Hermes; who, with the eloquence peculiar to\nhimself, and the threatened terrors of his supreme master, endeavours to\nbreak the pride and to bend the will of the lofty-minded offender. In\nvain. The threatened terrors of the Thunderer now suddenly start into\nreality; and, amid the roar of contending elements, the pealing Heaven\nand the quaking Earth, the Jove-defying son of Iapetus descends into\nHell.\n\nThe superhuman grandeur and high tragic sublimity which belongs to the\nvery conception of this subject, has suffered nothing in respect of\ntreatment from the genius of the bard who dared to handle it. The\nPrometheus Bound, though inferior in point of lyric richness and variety\nto the Agamemnon, and though somewhat overloaded with narrative in one\nplace, is nevertheless felt throughout to be one of the most powerful\nproductions of one of the most powerful minds that the history of\nliterature knows. No work of a similar lofty character certainly has\never been so extensively popular. The Prometheus Unbound of Shelley, and\nLord Byron's Manfred, bear ample witness, of which we may well be proud,\nto the relationship which exists between the severe Melpomene of ancient\nGreece, and the lofty British Muse.\n\n\n\nPROMETHEUS BOUND\n\n{183}\n\n  [_Enter_ MIGHT _and_ FORCE, _leading in_ PROMETHEUS; HEPHAESTUS,\n  _with chains._\n\n MIGHT.\n At length the utmost bound of Earth we've reached,\n This Scythian soil, this wild untrodden waste.[n1]\n Hephaestus now Jove's high behests demand\n Thy care; to these steep cliffy rocks bind down\n With close-linked chains of during adamant\n This daring wretch.[n2] For he the bright-rayed fire,\n Mother of arts, flower of thy potency,\n Filched from the gods, and gave to mortals. Here,\n Just guerdon of his sin shall find him; here\n Let his pride learn to bow to Jove supreme,\n And love men well, but love them not too much.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n Ye twain, rude MIGHT and FORCE, have done your work\n To the perfect end; but I--my heart shrinks back\n From the harsh task to nail a kindred god[n3]\n To this storm-battered crag. Yet dare I must.\n Where Jove commands, whoso neglects rebels,\n And pays the traitor's fine. High-counselled son\n Of right-decreeing Themis,[n4] I force myself\n No less than thee, when to this friendless rock\n With iron bonds I chain thee, where nor shape\n Nor voice of wandering mortal shall relieve\n Thy lonely watch; but the fierce-burning sun\n Shall parch and bleach thy fresh complexion. Thou,\n When motley-mantled Night[f7] hath hid the day,\n Shalt greet the darkness, with how short a joy!\n For the morn's sun the nightly dew shall scatter,\n And thou be pierced again with the same pricks\n Of endless woe--and saviour shall be none.[n5]\n Such fruits thy forward love to men hath wrought thee.\n Thyself a god, the wrath of gods to thee\n Seemed little, and to men thou didst dispense\n Forbidden gifts. For this thou shalt keep watch\n {184}\n On this delightless rock, fixed and erect,\n With lid unsleeping, and with knee unbent.\n Alas! what groans and wails shalt thou pour forth,\n Fruitless. Jove is not weak that he should bend;[n6]\n For young authority must ever be\n Harsh and severe.\n\n MIGHT.\n                  Enough of words and tears.\n This god, whom all the gods detest, wilt thou\n Not hate, thou, whom his impious larceny\n Did chiefly injure?\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n                    But, my friend, my kinsman--\n\n MIGHT.\n True, that respect; but the dread father's word\n Respect much more. Jove's word respect and fear.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n Harsh is thy nature, and thy heart is full\n Of pitiless daring.\n\n MIGHT.\n                    Tears were wasted here,\n And labour lost is all concern for him.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n O thrice-cursed trade, that e'er my hand should use it!\n\n MIGHT.\n Curse not thy craft; the cunning of thy hand\n Makes not his woes; he made them for himself.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n Would that some other hand had drawn the lot\n To do this deed!\n\n MIGHT.\n                 All things may be, but this\n To dictate to the gods.[n7] There's one that's free,\n One only; Jove.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n                I know it, and am dumb.\n\n MIGHT.\n Then gird thee to the work, chain down the culprit,\n Lest Jove thy laggard zeal behold, and blame.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n The irons here are ready.\n\n MIGHT.\n                          Take them, and strike\n Stout blows with the hammer; nail him to the rock.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n The work speeds well, and lingers not.\n\n MIGHT.\n                                       Strike! strike!\n With ring, and clamp, and wedge make sure the work.\n He hath a subtle wit will find itself\n A way where way is none.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n                         This arm is fast.\n\n MIGHT.\n Then clasp this other. Let the sophist know,\n Against great Jove how dull a thing is wit.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n None but the victim can reprove my zeal.\n\n MIGHT.\n Now take this adamantine bolt, and force\n Its point resistless through his rebel breast.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n Alas! alas! Prometheus, but I pity thee!\n\n {185}\n\n MIGHT.\n Dost lag again, and for Jove's enemies weep\n Fond tears? Beware thou have no cause to weep\n Tears for thyself.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n                   Thou see'st no sightly sight\n For eyes to look on.\n\n MIGHT.\n                     I behold a sower\n Reaping what thing he sowed. But take these thongs,\n And bind his sides withal.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n                           I must! I must!\n Nor needs thy urging.\n\n MIGHT.\n                      Nay, but I will urge,\n Command, and bellow in thine ear! Proceed,\n Lower--yet lower--and with these iron rings\n Enclasp his legs.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n                  'Tis done, and quickly done.\n\n MIGHT.\n Now pierce his feet through with these nails. Strike hard!\n There's one will sternly prove thy work, and thee.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n Harsh is thy tongue, and, like thy nature, hard.\n\n MIGHT.\n Art thou a weakling, do not therefore blame\n The firm harsh-fronted will that suits my office.\n\n HEPHAESTHUS.\n Let us away. He's fettered limb and thew.\n\n MIGHT.\n There lie, and feed thy pride on this bare rock,\n Filching gods' gifts for mortal men. What man\n Shall free thee from these woes? Thou hast been called\n In vain the Provident:[n8] had thy soul possessed\n The virtue of thy name, thou hadst foreseen\n These cunning toils, and hadst unwound thee from them.\n\n   [_Exeunt all, except_ PROMETHEUS, _who is left chained_.\n\n PROMETHEUS.[n9]\n O divine ether, and swift-winged winds,\n And river-fountains, and of ocean waves\n The multitudinous laughter,[n10] and thou Earth,\n Boon mother of us all, and thou bright round\n Of the all-seeing Sun, you I invoke!\n Behold what ignominy of causeless wrongs\n I suffer from the gods, myself a god.\n   See what piercing pains shall goad me\n   Through long ages myriad-numbered!\n   With such wrongful chains hath bound me\n   This new leader of the gods.\n   Ah me! present woes and future\n   I bemoan. O! when, O! when\n   Shall the just redemption dawn?\n {186}\n Yet why thus prate? I know what ills await me.\n No unexpected torture can surprise\n My soul prophetic; and with quiet mind\n We all must bear our portioned fate, nor idly\n Court battle with a strong necessity.\n Alas! alas! 'tis hard to speak to the winds;\n Still harder to be dumb! my well-deservings\n To mortal men are all the offence that bowed me\n Beneath this yoke. The secret fount of fire\n I sought, and found, and in a reed concealed it;[n11]\n Whence arts have sprung to man, and life hath drawn\n Rich store of comforts. For such deed I suffer\n These bonds, in the broad eye of gracious day,\n Here crucified. Ah me! ah me! who comes?[n12]\n What sound, what viewless breath, thus taints the air,\n God sent, or mortal, or of mingled kind?\n What errant traveller ill-sped comes to view\n This naked ridge of extreme Earth, and me?\n Whoe'er thou art, a hapless god thou see'st\n Nailed to this crag; the foe of Jove thou seest.\n   Him thou see'st, whom all the Immortals\n   Whoso tread the Olympian threshold,\n   Name with hatred; thou beholdest\n   Man's best friend, and, therefore, hated\n      For excess of love.\n   Hark, again! I hear the whirring\n   As of winged birds approaching;\n   With the light strokes of their pinions\n   Ether pipes ill-boding whispers!--\n   Alas! alas! that I should fear\n   Each breath that nears me.\n\n   [_The_ OCEANIDES _approach, borne through the air in a winged car_.\n\n STROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n Fear nothing; for a friendly band approaches;\n     Fleet rivalry of wings\n Oar'd us to this far height, with hard consent\n     Wrung from our careful sire\n The winds swift-sweeping bore me: for I heard\n The harsh hammer's note deep deep in ocean caves,\n And, throwing virgin shame aside, unshod\n     The winged car I mounted.\n\n {187}\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Ah! ah!\n Daughters of prolific Tethys,[n13]\n And of ancient father Ocean,\n With his sleepless current whirling\n Round the firm ball of the globe.\n Look! with rueful eyes behold me\n Nailed by adamantine rivets,\n Keeping weary watch unenvied\n On this tempest-rifted rock!\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n I look, Prometheus; and a tearful cloud\n     My woeful sight bedims,\n To see thy goodliest form with insult chained,\n     In adamantine bonds,\n To this bare crag, where pinching airs shall blast thee\n New gods now hold the helm of Heaven; new laws\n Mark Jove's unrighteous rule; the giant trace\n     Of Titan times hath vanished.[n14]\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Deep in death-receiving Hades\n Had he bound me, had he whelmed me\n In Tartarean pit, unfathomed,\n Fettered with unyielding bonds!\n Then nor god nor man had feasted\n Eyes of triumph on my wrongs,\n Nor I, thus swung in middle ether,[f8]\n Moved the laughter of my foes.\n\n STROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n Which of the gods hath heart so hard\n To mock thy woes? Who will withhold\n The fellow-feeling and the tear,\n Save only Jove. But he doth nurse\n Strong wrath within his stubborn breast,\n     And holds all Heaven in awe.\n Nor will he cease till his hot rage is glutted,\n Or some new venture shakes his stable throne.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n By my Titan soul, I swear it!\n Though with harsh chains now he mocks me,\n Even now the hour is ripening,\n When this haughty lord of Heaven\n Shall embrace my knees, beseeching\n Me to unveil the new-forged counsels\n {188}\n That shall hurl him from his throne.[n15]\n But no honey-tongued persuasion,\n No smooth words of artful charming,\n No stout threats shall loose my tongue,\n Till he loose these bonds of insult,\n And himself make just atonement\n For injustice done to me.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n   Thou art a bold man, and defiest\n   The keenest pangs to force thy will.\n   With a most unreined tongue thou speakest;\n   But me--sharp fear hath pierced my heart.\n   I fear for thee: and of thy woes\n     The distant, doubtful end\n I see not. O, 'tis hard, most hard to reach\n The heart of Jove![n16] prayer beats his ear in vain.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Harsh is Jove, I know--he frameth\n Justice for himself; but soon,\n When the destined arm o'ertakes him,\n He shall tremble as a child.\n He shall smooth his bristling anger,\n Courting friendship shunned before,\n More importunate to unbind me\n Than impatient I of bonds.\n\n CHORUS.\n Speak now, and let us know the whole offence\n Jove charges thee withal; for which he seized,\n And with dishonor and dire insult loads thee.\n Unfold the tale; unless, perhaps, such sorrow\n Irks thee to tell.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                   To tell or not to tell\n Irks me the same; which way I turn is pain.\n When first the gods their fatal strife began,\n And insurrection raged in Heaven--some striving\n To cast old Kronos from his hoary throne,\n That Jove might reign, and others to crush i' the bud\n His swelling mastery--I wise counsel gave\n To the Titans, sons of primal Heaven and Earth;\n But gave in vain. Their dauntless stubborn souls\n Spurned gentle ways, and patient-working wiles,\n Weening swift triumph with a blow. But me,\n My mother Themis, not once but oft, and Earth\n (One shape of various names),[n17] prophetic told\n {189}\n That violence and rude strength in such a strife\n Were vain--craft haply might prevail. This lesson\n I taught the haughty Titans, but they deigned\n Scarce with contempt to hear my prudent words.\n Thus baffled in my plans, I deemed it best,\n As things then were, leagued with my mother Themis,\n To accept Jove's proffered friendship. By my counsels\n From his primeval throne was Kronos[f9] hurled\n Into the pit Tartarean, dark, profound,\n With all his troop of friends. Such was the kindness\n From me received by him who now doth hold\n The masterdom of Heaven; these the rewards\n Of my great zeal: for so it hath been ever.\n Suspicion's a disease that cleaves to tyrants,\n And they who love most are the first suspected.[n18]\n As for your question, for what present fault\n I bear the wrong that now afflicts me, hear.\n Soon as he sat on his ancestral throne\n He called the gods together, and assigned\n To each his fair allotment, and his sphere\n Of sway supreme; but, ah! for wretched man!\n To him nor part nor portion fell: Jove vowed\n To blot his memory from the Earth, and mould\n The race anew,[f10] I only of the gods\n Thwarted his will;[n19] and, but for my strong aid,\n Hades had whelmed, and hopeless ruin swamped\n All men that breathe. Such were my crimes: these pains\n Grievous to suffer, pitiful to behold,\n Were purchased thus; and mercy's now denied\n To him whose crime was mercy to mankind:\n And here I lie, in cunning torment stretched,[n20]\n A spectacle inglorious to Jove.\n\n CHORUS.\n An iron-heart were his, and flinty hard,\n Who on thy woes could look without a tear,\n Prometheus; I had liefer not so seen thee,\n And seeing thee fain would call mine eyesight liar.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Certes no sight am I for friends to look on.\n\n CHORUS.\n Was this thy sole offence?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                           I taught weak mortals\n Not to foresee harm, and forestall the Fates.\n\n {190}\n\n CHORUS.\n A sore disease to anticipate mischance:\n How didst thou cure it?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                        Blind hopes of good I planted\n In their dark breasts.[n21]\n\n CHORUS.\n                       That was a boon indeed,\n To ephemeral man.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                  Nay more, I gave them fire.\n\n CHORUS.\n And flame-faced fire is now enjoyed by mortals?[n22]\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Enjoyed, and of all arts the destined mother.\n\n CHORUS.\n And is this all the roll of thy offendings\n That he should rage so fierce? Hath he not set\n Bounds to his vengeance?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                         None, but his own pleasure.\n\n CHORUS.\n And when shall he please? Vain the hope; thou see'st\n That thou hast erred; and that thou hast to us\n No pleasure brings, to thee excess of pain.\n Of this enough. Seek now to cure the evil.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n 'Tis a light thing for him whose foot's unwarped\n By misadventure's meshes to advise\n And counsel the unfortunate. But I\n Foreknew my fate, and if I erred, I erred\n With conscious purpose, purchasing man's weal\n With mine own grief. I knew I should offend\n The Thunderer, though deeming not that he\n Would perch me thus to pine 'twixt Earth and Sky,\n Of this wild wintry waste sole habitant.\n But cease to weep for ills that weeping mends not;\n Descend, and I'll discourse to thee at length\n Of chances yet to come. Nay, do not doubt;\n But leave thy car, nor be ashamed to share\n The afflictions of the afflicted; for Mishap,\n Of things that lawless wander, wanders most;\n With me to-day it is with you to-morrow.\n\n CHORUS.\n Not to sluggish ears, Prometheus,\n Hast thou spoken thy desire;\n From our breeze-borne car descending,\n With light foot we greet the ground.\n Leaving ether chaste, smooth pathway\n Of the gently-winnowing wing,\n On this craggy rock I stand,\n To hear the tale, while thou mayst tell it,\n Of thy sorrows to the end.\n\n {191}\n\n   [_Enter_ OCEAN.[n23]\n\n OCEAN.\n From my distant caves cerulean[n24]\n This fleet-pinioned bird hath borne me;\n Needed neither bit nor bridle,\n Thought instinctive reined the creature;\n Thus, to know thy griefs, Prometheus,\n And to grieve with thee I come.\n Soothly strong the tie of kindred\n Binds the heart of man and god;\n But, though no such tie had bound me,\n I had wept for thee the same.\n Well thou know'st not mine the cunning\n To discourse with glozing phrase:\n Tell me how I may relieve thee,\n I am ready to relieve;\n Friend thou boastest none than Ocean\n Surer, in the hour of need.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n How now, old Ocean? thou too come to view\n My dire disasters?--how shouldst thou have dared,\n Leaving the billowy stream whose name thou bearest,\n Thy rock-roofed halls, and self-built palaces,\n To visit this Scythian land, stern mother of iron,\n To know my sorrows, and to grieve with me?\n Look on this sight--thy friend, the friend of Jove,\n Who helped him to the sway which now he bears,\n Crushed by the self-same god himself exalted.\n\n OCEAN.\n I see, Prometheus; and I come to speak\n A wise word to the wise; receive it wisely.\n Know what thou art, and make thy manners new;\n For a new king doth rule the subject gods.\n Compose thy speech, nor cast such whetted words\n 'Gainst Jove, who, though he sits apart sublime,\n Hath ears, and with new pains may smite his victim,\n To which his present wrath shall seem a toy.\n Listen to me; slack thy fierce ire, and seek\n Speedy deliverance from these woes. Trite wisdom\n Belike I speak, Prometheus; but thou knowest\n A lofty-sounding tongue with passionate phrase\n Buys its own ruin. Proud art thou, unyielding,\n And heap'st new woes tenfold on thine own head.\n Why should'st thou kick against the pricks? Jove reigns\n A lord severe, and of his acts need give\n {192}\n Account to none, I go to plead for thee,\n And, what I can, will try to save my kinsman;\n But be thou calm the while; curb thy rash speech,\n And let not fame report, that one so wise\n Fell by the forfeit of a foolish tongue.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Count thyself happy, Ocean, being free\n From blame, who shared and dared with me. Be wise,\n And what thy meddling aids not, let alone.\n In vain thou plead'st with him; his ears are deaf.\n Look to thyself: thy errand is not safe.\n\n OCEAN.\n Wise art thou, passing wise, for others' weal,\n For thine own good most foolish. Prithee do not\n So stretch thy stubborn whim to pull against\n The friends that pull for thee. 'Tis no vain boast;\n I know that Jove will hear me.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                               Thou art kind;\n And for thy kind intent and friendly feeling\n Have my best thanks. But do not, I beseech thee,\n Waste labour upon me. If thou wilt labour,\n Seek a more hopeful subject. Thou wert wiser,\n Being safe, to keep thee safe. I, when I suffer,\n Wish not that all my friends should suffer with me.\n Enough my brother Atlas' miseries grieve me.[n25]\n Who in the extreme West stands, stoutly bearing\n The pillars of Heaven and Earth upon his shoulders,[n26]\n No lightsome burden. Him too, I bewail,\n That made his home in dark Cilician caverns.\n The hostile portent, Earth-born, hundred-headed\n Impetuous Typhon,[n27] quelled by force, who stood\n Alone, against the embattled host of gods,\n Hissing out murder from his monstrous jaws;\n And from his eyes there flashed a Gorgon glare,\n As he would smite the tyranny of great Jove\n Clean down; but he, with sleepless thunder watching,\n Hurl'd headlong a flame-breathing bolt, and laid\n The big-mouthed vaunter low. Struck to the heart\n With blasted strength, and shrunk to ashes, there\n A huge and helpless hulk, outstretched he lies,\n Beside the salt sea's strait, pressed down beneath\n The roots of \u00c6tna, on whose peaks Hephaestus\n Sits hammering the hot metal. Thence, one day,\n Shall streams of liquid fire, swift passage forcing,\n With savage jaws the wide-spread plains devour\n {193}\n Of the fair-fruited Sicily. Such hot shafts,\n From the flame-breathing ferment of the deep,\n Shall Typhon cast with sateless wrath, though now\n All scorched and cindered by the Thunderer's stroke,\n Moveless he lies. But why should I teach thee?\n Thou art a wise man, thine own wisdom use\n To save thyself. For me, I'll even endure\n These pains, till Jove shall please to slack his ire.\n\n OCEAN.\n Know'st thou not this, Prometheus, that mild words\n Are medicines of fierce wrath?[n28]\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                               They are, when spoken\n In a mild hour; but the high-swelling heart\n They do but fret the more.\n\n OCEAN.\n                           But, in the attempt\n To ward the threatened harm, what evil see'st thou?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Most bootless toil, and folly most inane.\n\n OCEAN.\n Be it so; but yet 'tis sometimes well, believe me,\n That a wise man should seem to be a fool.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Seem fool, seem wise, I, in the end, am blamed.\n\n OCEAN.\n Thy reckless words reluctant send me home.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Beware, lest love for me make thyself hated.\n\n OCEAN.\n Of whom? Of him, who, on the all-powerful throne\n Sits, a new lord?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                  Even him. Beware thou vex not\n Jove's jealous heart.\n\n OCEAN.\n                      In this, thy fate shall warn me.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Away! farewell; and may the prudent thoughts,\n That sway thy bosom now, direct thee ever.\n\n OCEAN.\n I go, and quickly. My four-footed bird\n Brushes the broad path of the limpid air\n With forward wing: right gladly will he bend\n The wearied knee on his familiar stall.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n   Thy dire disasters, unexampled wrongs,\n       I weep, Prometheus.\n   From its soft founts distilled the flowing tear\n       My cheek bedashes.\n   'Tis hard, most hard! By self-made laws Jove rules,\n   And 'gainst the host of primal gods he points\n       The lordly spear.\n\n {194}\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n   With echoing groans the ambient waste bewails\n       Thy fate, Prometheus;\n   The neighbouring tribes of holy Asia weep\n       For thee, Prometheus;[n29]\n   For thee and thine! names mighty and revered\n   Of yore, now shamed, dishonoured, and cast down,\n       And chained with thee.\n\n STROPHE II.\n   And Colchis, with her belted daughters, weeps\n       For thee, Prometheus;\n   And Scythian tribes, on Earth's remotest verge,\n   Where lone M\u00e6otis[f11] spreads her wintry waters,\n       Do weep for thee.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n   The flower of Araby's wandering warriors weep\n       For thee, Prometheus;[n30]\n   And they who high their airy holds have perched\n   On Caucasus' ridge, with pointed lances bristling,\n       Do weep for thee.\n\n EPODE.\n   One only vexed like thee, and even as thou,\n       In adamant bound,\n   A Titan, and a god scorned by the gods,\n       Atlas I knew.\n   He on his shoulders the surpassing weight\n   Of the celestial pole stoutly upbore,\n       And groaned beneath.\n   Roars billowy Ocean, and the Deep sucks back\n   Its waters when he sobs; from Earth's dark caves\n       Deep hell resounds;\n   The fountains of the holy-streaming rivers\n       Do moan with him.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Deem me not self-willed, nor with pride high-strung,\n That I am dumb; my heart is gnawed to see\n Myself thus mocked and jeered. These gods, to whom\n Owe they their green advancement but to me?\n But this ye know; and, not to teach the taught,\n I'll speak of it no more. Of human kind,\n My great offence in aiding them, in teaching\n {195}\n The babe to speak, and rousing torpid mind\n To take the grasp of itself--of this I'll talk;\n Meaning to mortal men no blame, but only\n The true recital of mine own deserts.\n For, soothly, having eyes to see they saw not,[n31]\n And hearing heard not; but like dreamy phantoms,\n A random life they led from year to year,\n All blindly floundering on. No craft they knew\n With woven brick or jointed beam to pile\n The sunward porch; but in the dark earth burrowed\n And housed, like tiny ants in sunless caves.\n No signs they knew to mark the wintry year:\n The flower-strewn Spring, and the fruit-laden Summer,\n Uncalendared, unregistered, returned--\n Till I the difficult art of the stars revealed,\n Their risings and their settings. Numbers, too,\n I taught them (a most choice device)[n32] and how\n By marshalled signs to fix their shifting thoughts,\n That Memory, mother of Muses, might achieve\n Her wondrous works. I first slaved to the yoke\n Both ox and ass. I, the rein-loving steeds\n (Of wealth's gay-flaunting pomp the chiefest pride)\n Joined to the car; and bade them ease the toils\n Of labouring men vicarious. I the first\n Upon the lint-winged car of mariner\n Was launched, sea-wandering. Such wise arts I found\n To soothe the ills of man's ephemeral life;\n But for myself, plunged in this depth of woe,\n No prop I find.\n\n CHORUS.\n                Sad chance! Thy wit hath slipt\n From its firm footing then when needed most,\n Like some unlearned leech who many healed,\n But being sick himself, from all his store,\n Cannot cull out one medicinal drug.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Hear me yet farther; and in hearing marvel,\n What arts and curious shifts my wit devised.\n Chiefest of all, the cure of dire disease\n Men owe to me. Nor healing food, nor drink,\n Nor unguent knew they, but did slowly wither\n And waste away for lack of pharmacy,\n Till taught by me to mix the soothing drug,\n And check corruption's march. I fixed the art\n Of divination with its various phase\n {196}\n Of dim revealings, making dreams speak truth,\n Stray voices, and encounters by the way\n Significant; the flight of taloned birds\n On right and left I marked--these fraught with ban,\n With blissful augury those; their way of life,\n Their mutual loves and enmities, their flocks,\n And friendly gatherings; the entrails' smoothness,\n The hue best liked by the gods, the gall, the liver\n With all its just proportions. I first wrapped\n In the smooth fat the thighs; first burnt the loins,\n And from the flickering flame taught men to spell\n No easy lore, and cleared the fire-faced signs[n33]\n Obscure before. Yet more: I probed the Earth,\n To yield its hidden wealth to help man's weakness--\n Iron, copper, silver, gold. None but a fool,\n A prating fool, will stint me of this praise.\n And thus, with one short word to sum the tale,\n Prometheus taught all arts to mortal men.\n\n CHORUS.\n Do good to men, but do it with discretion.\n Why shouldst thou harm thyself? Good hope I nurse\n To see thee soon from these harsh chains unbound,\n As free, as mighty, as great Jove himself.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n This may not be; the destined course of things\n Fate must accomplish; I must bend me yet\n 'Neath wrongs on wrongs, ere I may 'scape these bonds.\n Though Art be strong, Necessity is stronger.\n\n CHORUS.\n And who is lord of strong Necessity?[n34]\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n The triform Fates, and the sure-memoried Furies.\n\n CHORUS.\n And mighty Jove himself must yield to them?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n No more than others Jove can 'scape his doom.[n35]\n\n CHORUS.\n What doom?--No doom hath he but endless sway.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n 'Tis not for thee to know: tempt not the question.\n\n CHORUS.\n There's some dread mystery in thy chary speech,\n Close-veiled.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n              Urge this no more: the truth thou'lt know\n In fitting season; now it lies concealed\n In deepest darkness! for relenting Jove\n Himself must woo this secret from my breast.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n     Never, O never may Jove,\n Who in Olympus reigns omnipotent lord,\n {197}\n Plant his high will against my weak opinion![n36]\n     Let me approach the gods\n With blood of oxen and with holy feasts,\n By father Ocean's quenchless stream, and pay\n     No backward vows:\n Nor let my tongue offend; but in my heart\n     Be lowly wisdom graven.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n     For thus old Wisdom speaks:\n Thy life 'tis sweet to cherish, and while the length\n Of years is thine, thy heart with cheerful hopes\n     And lightsome joys to feed.\n But thee--ah me! my blood runs cold to see thee,\n Pierced to the marrow with a thousand pains.\n     Not fearing Jove,\n Self-willed thou hast respect to man, Prometheus,\n   Much more than man deserveth.\n\n STROPHE II.\n    For what is man?[f12] behold!\n Can he requite thy love--child of a day--\n Or help thy extreme need? Hast thou not seen\n   The blind and aimless strivings,\n   The barren blank endeavour,\n The pithless deeds, of the fleeting dreamlike race?\n   Never, O nevermore,\n May mortal wit Jove's ordered plan deceive.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n   This lore my heart hath learned\n From sight of thee, and thy sharp pains, Prometheus.\n Alas! what diverse strain I sang thee then,\n   Around the bridal chamber,\n   And around the bridal bath,\n When thou my sister fair, Hesione,\n   Won by rich gifts didst lead[n37]\n From Ocean's caves thy spousal bed to share.\n\n   [_Enter_ IO.[n38]\n\n IO.\n   What land is this?--what race of mortals\n   Owns this desert? who art thou,\n {198}\n   Rock-bound with these wintry fetters,\n   And for what crime tortured thus?\n   Worn and weary with far travel,\n   Tell me where my feet have borne me!\n O pain! pain! pain! it stings and goads me again,\n The fateful brize!--save me, O Earth![n39]--Avaunt\n Thou horrible shadow of the Earth-born Argus!\n Could not the grave close up thy hundred eyes,\n     But thou must come,\n Haunting my path with thy suspicious look,\n     Unhoused from Hades?\n Avaunt! avaunt!--why wilt thou hound my track,\n The famished wanderer on the waste sea-shore?\n\n STROPHE.\n Pipe not thy sounding wax-compacted reed\n With drowsy drone at me! Ah wretched me!\n Wandering, still wandering o'er wide Earth, and driven\n   Where? where? O tell me where?\n O Son of Kronos, in what damned sin\n Being caught hast thou to misery yoked me thus,\n Pricked me to desperation, and my heart\n   Pierced with thy furious goads?\n Blast me with lightnings! bury me in Earth! To the gape\n Of greedy sea-monsters give me! Hear, O hear\n     My prayer, O King!\n Enough, enough, these errant toils have tried me;\n And yet no rest I find: nor when, nor where\n   These woes shall cease may know.\n\n CHORUS.[n40]\n Dost hear the plaint of the ox-horned maid?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n How should I not? the Inachian maid who knows not,\n Stung by the god-sent brize? the maid who smote\n Jove's lustful heart with love: and his harsh spouse\n Hounds her o'er Earth with chase interminable.\n\n ANTISTROPHE.\n IO.\n My father's name thou know'st, and my descent!\n Who art thou? god or mortal? Speak! what charm\n Gives wretch like thee, the certain clue to know\n     My lamentable fate?\n Aye, and the god-sent plague thou know'st; the sting\n That spurs me o'er the far-stretched Earth; the goad\n That mads me sheer, wastes, withers, and consumes,\n    A worn and famished maid,\n {199}\n Whipt by the scourge of jealous Hera's wrath!\n Ah me! ah me! Misery has many shapes,\n     But none like mine.\n O thou, who named my Argive home, declare\n What ills await me yet; what end; what hope?\n    If hope there be for Io.\n\n CHORUS.\n I pray thee speak to the weary way-worn maid.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n I'll tell thee all thy wish, not in enigmas\n Tangled and dark, but in plain phrase, as friend\n Should speak to friend. Thou see'st Prometheus, who\n To mortal men gifted immortal fire.\n\n IO.\n O thou, to man a common blessing given,\n What crime hath bound thee to this wintry rock?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n I have but ceased rehearsing all my wrongs.\n\n IO.\n And dost thou then refuse the boon I ask?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n What boon? ask what thou wilt, and I will answer.\n\n IO.\n Say, then, who bound thee to this ragged cliff?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Stern Jove's decree, and harsh Hephaestus' hand.\n\n IO.\n And for what crime?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                    Let what I've said suffice.\n\n IO.\n This, too, I ask--what bound hath fate appointed\n To my far-wandering toils?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                           This not to know\n Were better than to learn.\n\n IO.\n                           Nay, do not hide\n This thing from me!\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                    If 'tis a boon, believe me,\n I grudge it not.\n\n IO.\n                 Then why so slow to answer?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n I would not crush thee with the cruel truth.\n\n IO.\n Fear not; I choose to hear it.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                               Listen then.\n\n CHORUS.\n Nay, hear me rather. With her own mouth this maid\n Shall first her bygone woes rehearse; next thou\n What yet remains shalt tell.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                             Even so. [_To_ Io.] Speak thou;\n They are the sisters of thy father, Io;[n41]\n And to wail out our griefs, when they who listen\n Our troubles with a willing tear requite,\n Is not without its use.\n\n IO.\n                        I will obey,\n And in plain speech my chanceful story tell;\n Though much it grieves me to retrace the source,\n {200}\n Whence sprung this god-sent pest, and of my shape\n Disfigurement abhorred. Night after night\n Strange dreams around my maiden pillow hovering\n Whispered soft temptings. \"_O thrice-blessed maid,_\n _Why pin'st thou thus in virgin loneliness,_\n _When highest wedlock courts thee? Struck by the shaft_\n _Of fond desire for thee Jove burns, and pants_\n _To twine his loves with thine. Spurn not, O maid,_\n _The proffered bed of Jove; but hie thee straight_\n _To Lerne's bosomed mead_,[n42] _where are the sheep-folds_\n _And ox-stalls of thy sire, that so the eye_\n _Of Jove, being filled with thee, may cease from craving._\"\n Such nightly dreams my restless couch possessed\n Till I, all tears, did force me to unfold\n The portent to my father. He to Pytho[f13]\n Sent frequent messengers, and to Dodona,\n Searching the pleasure of the gods; but they\n With various-woven phrase came back, and answers\n More doubtful than the quest. At length, a clear\n And unambiguous voice came to my father,\n Enjoining, with most strict command, to send me\n Far from my home, and from my country far,\n To the extreme bounds of Earth an outcast wanderer,\n Else that the fire-faced bolt of Jove should smite\n Our universal race. By such responses,\n Moved of oracular Loxias, my father\n Reluctant me reluctant drove from home,\n And shut the door against me. What he did\n He did perforce; Jove's bit was in his mouth.\n Forthwith my wit was frenzied, and my form\n Assumed the brute. With maniac bound I rushed,\n Horned as thou see'st, and with the sharp-mouthed sting\n Of gad-fly pricked infuriate to the cliff\n Of Lerne, and Cenchr\u00e9a's limpid wave;\n While Argus, Earth-born cow-herd, hundred-eyed,\n Followed the winding traces of my path\n With sharp observance. Him swift-swooping Fate\n Snatched unexpected from his sleepless guard;\n But I from land to land still wander on,\n Scourged by the wrath of Heaven's relentless Queen.\n Thou hast my tale; the sequel, if thou know'st it,\n Is thine to tell; but do not seek, I pray thee,\n {201}\n In pity for me, to drop soft lies; for nothing\n Is worse than the smooth craft of practised phrase.\n\n CHORUS.\n     Enough, enough! Woe's me that ever\n Such voices of strange grief should rend my ear!\n     That such a tale of woe,\n Insults, and wrongs, and horrors, should freeze me through,\n     As with a two-edged sword!\n O destiny! destiny! woes most hard to see,\n More hard to bear! Alas! poor maid for thee!\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Thy wails anticipate her woes; restrain\n Thy trembling tears till thou hast heard the whole.\n\n CHORUS.\n Proceed: to know the worst some solace brings\n To the vexed heart.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                    Your first request I granted,\n And lightly; from her own mouth, ye have heard\n The spring of harm, the stream expect from me,\n How Hera shall draw out her slow revenge.\n Meanwhile, thou seed of Inachus, lend an ear\n And learn thy future travel. First to the east[n43]\n Turn thee, and traverse the unploughed Scythian fields,\n Whose wandering tribes their wattled homes transport\n Aloft on well-wheeled wains, themselves well slung\n With the far-darting bow. These pass, and, holding\n Thy course by the salt sea's sounding surge, pass through\n The land; next, on thy left, thou'lt reach the Chalybs,\n Workers in iron. These too avoid--for they\n Are savage, and harsh to strangers. Thence proceeding,\n Thou to a stream shalt come, not falsely named\n Hubristes: but the fierce ill-forded wave\n Pass not till Caucasus, hugest hill, receives thee,\n There where the flood its gushing strength foams forth\n Fresh from the rocky brow. Cross then the peaks\n That neighbour with the stars, and thence direct\n Southward thy path to where the Amazons\n Dwell, husband-hated, who shall one day people\n Therm\u00f3don's bank, and Themiscyre, and where\n Harsh Salmydessus whets his ravening jaws,\n The sailor's foe, stepmother to the ships.\n These maids shall give thee escort. Next thou'lt reach\n The narrow Cimmerian isthmus, skirting bleak\n The waters of M\u00e6otis. Here delay not,\n But with bold breast cross thou the strait. Thy passage\n Linked with the storied name of Bosphorus\n {202}\n Shall live through endless time. Here, leaving Europe,\n The Asian soil receives thee. Now, answer me,\n Daughters of Ocean, doth not Jove in all things\n Prove his despotic will?--In lawless love\n Longing to mingle with this mortal maid,\n He heaps her with these woes. A bitter suitor,\n Poor maid, was thine, and I have told thee scarce\n The prelude of thy griefs.\n\n IO.\n                          Ah! wretched me!\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Alas, thy cries and groans!--What wilt thou do,\n When the full measure of thy woes is told thee?\n\n CHORUS.\n What! more? her cup of woes not full?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                                      'Twill flow\n And overflow, a sea of whelming woes.\n\n IO.\n Why do I live? Why not embrace the gain\n That, with one cast, this toppling cliff secures,\n And dash me headlong on the ground, to end\n Life and life's sorrows? Once to die is better\n Than thus to drag sick life.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                             Thou'rt happy, Io,\n That death from all thy living wrongs may free thee;\n But I, whom Fate hath made immortal, see\n No end to my long-lingering pains appointed,\n Till Jove from his usurping sway be hurled.\n\n IO.\n Jove from his tyranny hurled--can such thing be?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Doubtless 'twould feast thine eyes to see't?\n\n IO.\n                                             Ay, truly,\n Wronged as I am by him.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                        Then, learn from me\n That he is doomed to fall.\n\n IO.\n                           What hand shall wrest\n Jove's sceptre?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                Jove's own empty wit.\n\n IO.\n                                     How so?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n From evil marriage reaping evil fruit.\n\n IO.\n Marriage! of mortal lineage or divine?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Ask me no further. This I may not answer.\n\n IO.\n Shall his spouse thrust him from his ancient throne?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n The son that she brings forth shall wound his father.\n\n IO.\n And hath he no redemption from this doom?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n None, till he loose me from these hated bonds.\n\n IO.\n But who, in Jove's despite, shall loose thee?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                                              One\n {203}\n From thine own womb descended.\n\n IO.\n                               How? My Son?\n One born of me shall be thy Saviour!--When?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n When generations ten have passed, the third.[n44]\n\n IO.\n Thou speak'st ambiguous oracles.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                                 I have spoken\n Enough for thee. Pry not into the Fates.\n\n IO.\n Wilt thou hold forth a hope to cheat my grasp?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n I give thee choice of two things: choose thou one.\n\n IO.\n What things? Speak, and I'll choose.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                                     Thou hast the choice\n To hear thy toils to the end, or learn his name\n Who comes to save me.\n\n CHORUS.\n                      Nay, divide the choice;\n One half to her concede, to me the other,\n Thus doubly gracious: to the maid her toils,\n To me thy destined Saviour tell.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                                 So be it!\n Being thus whetted in desire, I would not\n Oppose your wills. First Io, what remains\n Of thy far-sweeping wanderings hear, and grave\n My words on the sure tablets of thy mind.\n When thou hast crossed the narrow stream that parts[n45]\n The continents, to the far flame-faced East\n Thou shalt proceed, the highway of the Sun;\n Then cross the sounding Ocean, till thou reach\n Cisthen\u00e9 and the Gorgon plains, where dwell\n Phorcys' three daughters, maids with frosty eld\n Hoar as the swan, with one eye and one tooth\n Shared by the three; them Ph\u0153bus beamy-bright\n Beholds not, nor the nightly Moon. Near them\n Their winged sisters dwell, the Gorgons dire,\n Man-hating monsters, snaky-locked, whom eye\n Of mortal ne'er might look upon and live.\n This for thy warning. One more sight remains,\n That fills the eye with horror: mark me well;\n The sharp-beaked Griffins, hounds of Jove, avoid.\n Fell dogs that bark not; and the one-eyed host\n Of Arimaspian horsemen with swift hoofs\n Beating the banks of golden-rolling Pluto.\n A distant land, a swarthy people next\n Receives thee: near the fountains of the Sun\n They dwell by Aethiops' wave. This river trace\n {204}\n Until thy weary feet shall reach the pass\n Whence from the Bybline heights the sacred Nile\n Pours his salubrious flood.[n46] The winding wave\n Thence to triangled Egypt guides thee, where\n A distant home awaits thee, fated mother\n Of no unstoried race. And now, if aught\n That I have spoken doubtful seem or dark,\n Repeat the question, and in plainer speech\n Expect reply. I feel no lack of leisure.\n\n CHORUS.\n If thou hast more to speak to her, speak on;\n Or aught omitted to supply, supply it;\n But if her tale is finished, as thou say'st,\n Remember our request.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                      Her tale is told,\n But for the more assurance of my words\n The path of toils through which her feet had struggled\n Before she reached this coast I will declare;\n Lightly, and with no cumbrous comment, touching\n Thy latest travel only, wandering Io.\n When thou hadst trod the Molossian plains, and reached\n Steep-ridged Dodona, where Thesprotian Jove\n In council sits, and from the articulate oaks\n (Strange wonder!) speaks prophetic, there thine ears\n This salutation with no doubtful phrase\n Received: \"_All hail, great spouse of mighty Jove_\n _That shall be!_\"--say, was it a pleasing sound?\n Thence by the sting of jealous Hera goaded,\n Along the coast of Rhea's bosomed sea[f14]\n Thy steps were driven: thence with mazy course\n Tossed hither;[n47] gaining, if a gain, this solace,\n That future times, by famous Io's name,\n Shall know that sea.[f15] These things may be a sign\n That I, beyond the outward show, can pierce\n To the heart of truth. What yet remains, I tell\n To thee and them in common, tracing back\n My speech to whence it came. There is a city\n In extreme Egypt, where with outspread loam\n Nile breasts the sea, its name Canopus. There\n Jove to thy sober sense shall bring thee back,\n Soft with no fearful touch, and thou shalt bear\n A son, dark Epaphus, whose name shall tell\n The wonder of his birth;[n48] he shall possess\n {205}\n What fruitful fields fat Nile broad-streaming laves.\n Four generations then shall pass; the fifth\n In fifty daughters[f16] glorying shall return\n To ancient Argos, fatal wedlock shunning\n With fathers' brothers' sons; these, their wild hearts\n Fooled with blind lust, as hawks the gentle doves,\n Shall track the fugitive virgins; but a god\n Shall disappoint their chase, and the fair prey\n Save from their lawless touch; the Apian soil\n Shall welcome them to death, and woman's hands\n Shall dare the deed amid the nuptial watches.\n Each bride shall rob her lord of life, and dip\n The sharp steel in his throat. Such nuptial bliss\n May all my enemies know! Only one maid\n Of all the fifty, with a blunted will,\n Shall own the charm of love, and spare her mate,\n And of two adverse reputations choose\n The coward, not the murderess. She shall be\n The mother of a royal race in Argos.\n To tell what follows, with minute remark,\n Were irksome; but from this same root shall spring\n A hero, strong in the archer's craft, whose hand\n Shall free me from these bonds. Such oracle spake\n Titanian Themis, my time-honoured mother,\n But how and why were a long tale to tell,\n Nor being told would boot thine ear to hear it.\n\n IO.\n Ah me! pain! pain! ah me!\n Again the fevered spasm hath seized me,\n And the stroke of madness smites!\n Again that fiery sting torments me,\n And my heart doth knock my ribs!\n My aching eyes in dizziness roll,\n And my helmless feet are driven\n Whither gusty frenzy blows!\n And my tongue with thick words struggling\n Like a sinking swimmer plashes\n 'Gainst the whelming waves of woe! [_Exit_.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE.\n     Wise was the man, most wise,\n Who in deep-thoughted mood conceived, and first\n {206}\n In pictured speech and pregnant phrase declared\n That marriage, if the Fates shall bless the bond,\n     Must be of like with like;\n And that the daughters of an humble house\n Shun tempting union with the pomp of wealth\n     And with the pride of birth.\n\n ANTISTROPHE.\n     Never, O! never may Fate,\n All-powerful Fate which rules both gods and men,\n See me approaching the dread Thunderer's bed,\n And sharing marriage with the Olympian king,\n     An humble Ocean-maid!\n May wretched Io, chased by Hera's wrath,\n Unhusbanded, unfriended, fill my sense\n     With profitable fear.\n\n EPODE.\n     Me may an equal bond\n Bind with my equal: never may the eye\n     Of a celestial suitor fix the gaze\n Of forceful love on me.\n This were against all odds of war to war,\n And in such strife entangled I were lost;\n For how should humble maid resist the embrace,\n     Against great Jove's decree?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Nay, but this Jove, though insolent now, shall soon\n Be humbled low. Such wedlock even now\n He blindly broods, as shall uptear his kingdom,\n And leave no trace behind; then shall the curse,\n Which Kronos heaped upon his ingrate son,\n When hurled unjustly from his hoary throne,\n Be all fulfilled. What remedy remains\n For that dread ruin I alone can tell;\n I only know. Then let him sit aloft,\n Rolling his thunder, his fire-breathing bolt\n Far-brandishing; his arts are vain; his fall,\n Unless my aid prevent, his shameful fall,\n Is doomed. Against himself to life he brings\n A champion fierce, a portent of grim war,\n Who shall invent a fiercer flame than lightning,\n And peals to outpeal the thunder, who shall shiver\n The trident mace that stirs the sea, and shakes\n The solid Earth, the spear of strong Poseidon.\n {207}\n Thus shall the tyrant learn how much to serve\n Is different from to sway.\n\n CHORUS.\n                           Thou dost but make\n Thy wishes father to thy slanderous phrase.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n I both speak truth and wish the truth to be.\n\n CHORUS.\n But who can think that Jove shall find a master?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n He shall be mastered! Ay, and worse endure.\n\n CHORUS.\n Dost thou not blench to cast such words about thee?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n How should I fear, being a god and deathless?\n\n CHORUS.\n But he can scourge with something worse than death.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Even let him scourge! I'm armed for all conclusions.\n\n CHORUS.\n Yet they are wise who worship Adrast\u00e9a.[n49]\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Worship, and pray; fawn on the powers that be;\n But Jove to me is less than very nothing.\n Let him command, and rule his little hour\n To please himself; long time he cannot sway.\n But lo! where comes the courier of this Jove,\n The obsequious minion of this upstart King,\n Doubtless the bearer of some weighty news.\n\n   [_Enter_ HERMES.\n\n HERMES.\n Thee, cunning sophist, dealing bitter words\n Most bitterly against the gods, the friend\n Of ephemeral man, the thief of sacred fire,\n Thee, Father Jove commands to curb thy boasts,\n And say what marriage threats his stable throne.\n Answer this question in plain phrase, no dark\n Tangled enigmas; do not add, Prometheus,\n A second journey to my first: and, mark me!\n Thy obduracy cannot soften Jove.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n This solemn mouthing, this proud pomp of phrase\n Beseems the lackey of the gods. New gods\n Ye are, and, being new, ye ween to hold\n Unshaken citadels. Have I not seen\n Two Monarchs ousted from that throne? the third\n I yet shall see precipitate hurled from Heaven\n With baser, speedier, ruin. Do I seem\n To quail before this new-forged dynasty?\n Fear is my farthest thought. I pray thee go\n Turn up the dust again upon the road\n Thou cam'st. Reply from me thou shalt have none.\n\n HERMES.\n This haughty tone hath been thy sin before:\n Thy pride will strand thee on a worser woe.\n\n {208}\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n And were my woe tenfold what now it is,\n I would not barter it for thy sweet chains;\n For liefer would I lackey this bare rock\n Than trip the messages of Father Jove.\n The insolent thus with insolence I repay.\n\n HERMES.\n Thou dost delight in miseries; thou art wanton.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Wanton! delighted! would my worst enemies\n Might wanton in these bonds, thyself the first!\n\n HERMES.\n Must I, too, share the blame of thy distress?\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n In one round sentence, every god I hate\n That injures me who never injured him.\n\n HERMES.\n Thou'rt mad, clean mad; thy wit's diseased, Prometheus.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Most mad! if madness 'tis to hate our foes.\n\n HERMES.\n Prosperity's too good for thee: thy temper\n Could not endure't.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n                    Alas! this piercing pang!\n\n HERMES.\n \"Alas!\"--this word Jove does not understand.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n As Time grows old he teaches many things.\n\n HERMES.\n Yet Time that teaches all leaves thee untaught.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Untaught in sooth, thus parleying with a slave!\n\n HERMES.\n It seems thou wilt not grant great Jove's demand.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Such love as his to me should be repaid\n With like!\n\n HERMES.\n           Dost beard me like a boy? Beware.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Art not a boy, and something yet more witless,\n If thou expectest answer from my mouth?\n Nor insult harsh, nor cunning craft of Jove\n Shall force this tale from me, till he unloose\n These bonds. Yea! let him dart his levin bolts,\n With white-winged snows and subterranean thunders\n Mix and confound the elements of things!\n No threat, no fear, shall move me to reveal\n The hand that hurls him from his tyrant's throne.\n\n HERMES.\n Bethink thee well: thy vaunts can help thee nothing.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n I speak not rashly: what I said I said.\n\n HERMES.\n If thou art not the bought and sold of folly,\n Dare to learn wisdom from thy present ills.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Speak to the waves: thou speak'st to me as vainly!\n Deem not that I, to win a smile from Jove,\n Will spread a maiden smoothness o'er my soul,\n And importune the foe whom most I hate\n With womanish upliftings of the hands.\n Thou'lt see the deathless die first!\n\n {209}\n\n HERMES.\n                                     I have said\n Much, but that much is vain: thy rigid nature\n To thaw with prayer is hopeless. A young colt\n That frets the bit, and fights against the reins,\n Art thou, fierce-champing with most impotent rage;\n For wilful strength that hath no wisdom in it\n Is less than nothing.[n50] But bethink thee well;\n If thou despise my words of timely warning,\n What wintry storm, what threefold surge of woes\n Whelms thee inevitable. Jove shall split\n These craggy cliffs with his cloud-bosomed bolt,\n And sink thee deep: the cold rock shall embrace thee;\n There thou shalt lie, till he shall please to bring thee\n Back to the day, to find new pains prepared:\n For he will send his Eagle-messenger,\n His winged hound,[f17] in crimson food delighting,\n To tear thy rags of flesh with bloody beak,\n And daily come an uninvited guest\n To banquet on thy gory liver. This,\n And worse expect, unless some god endure\n Vicarious thy tortures,[n51] and exchange\n His sunny ether for the rayless homes\n Of gloomy Hades, and deep Tartarus.\n Consider well. No empty boast I speak,\n But weighty words well weighed: the mouth of Jove\n Hath never known a lie, and speech with him\n Is prophet of its deed. Ponder and weigh,\n Close not thy stubborn ears to good advice.\n\n CHORUS.\n If we may speak, what Hermes says is wise,\n And fitting the occasion. He advises\n That stubborn will should yield to prudent counsel.\n Obey: thy wisdom should not league with folly.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Nothing new this preacher preaches:\n Seems it strange that foe should suffer\n From the vengeance of his foe?\n I am ready. Let him wreathe\n Curls of scorching flame around me;\n Let him fret the air with thunder,\n And the savage-blustering winds!\n Let the deep abysmal tempest\n Wrench the firm roots of the Earth!\n Let the sea upheave her billows,\n {210}\n Mingling the fierce rush of waters\n With the pathway of the stars!\n Let the harsh-winged hurricane sweep me\n In its whirls, and fling me down\n To black Tartarus: there to lie\n Bound in the iron folds of Fate.\n I will bear: but cannot die.\n\n HERMES.\n Whom the nymphs have struck with madness\n Raves as this loud blusterer raves;\n Seems he not a willing madman,\n Let him reap the fruits he sowed![n52]\n But ye maids, who share his sorrows,\n Not his crimes, with quick removal\n Hie from this devoted spot,\n Lest with idiocy the thunder\n Harshly blast your maundering wits.\n\n CHORUS.\n Wouldst thou with thy words persuade us,\n Use a more persuasive speech;\n Urge no reasons to convince me\n That an honest heart must hate.\n With his sorrows I will sorrow:\n I will hate a traitor's name;\n Earth has plagues, but none more noisome\n Than a faithless friend in need.\n\n HERMES.\n Ponder well my prudent counsel,\n Nor, when evil hunts thee out,\n Blame great Jove that he doth smite thee\n With an unexpected stroke.\n Not the gods; thy proper folly\n Is the parent of thy woes.[f18]\n Jove hath laid no trap to snare thee,\n But the scapeless net of ruin\n Thou hast woven for thyself.\n\n PROMETHEUS.\n Now his threats walk forth in action,\n And the firm Earth quakes indeed.\n Deep and loud the ambient Thunder\n Bellows, and the flaring Lightning\n Wreathes his fiery curls around me,\n And the Whirlwind rolls his dust;\n And the Winds from rival regions\n Rush in elemental strife,\n And the Ocean's storm-vexed billows\n {211}\n Mingle with the startled stars!\n Doubtless now the tyrant gathers\n All his hoarded wrath to whelm me.\n Mighty Mother, worshipped Themis,\n Circling Ether that diffusest\n Light, a common joy to all,\n Thou beholdest these my wrongs!\n\n[The End]\n\n\n\nTHE SUPPLIANTS\n\n{213}\n\nA LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE\n\n Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby\n Some have entertained angels unawares.\n                                        ST. PAUL.\n\n           \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u0394\u03b9\u03cc\u03c2 \u1f10\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f05\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2\n \u039e\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\u03bf\u03af \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03c4\u03c9\u03c7\u03cc\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b5.\n                              HOMER.\n\n\n\nPERSONS\n\n{214}\n\n CHORUS OF DANAIDES.\n DANAUS.\n PELASGUS, King of Argos, and Attendants.\n HERALD.\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY REMARKS\n\n{215}\n\nDANAUS, according to the received Greek story, was an Egyptian, who\nfounded a colony in Argos, at some date between the age of the oldest\nArgive king Inachus, and the Trojan war. In the reality of this\nsea-faring adventurer, modern historians, following the faith of the\nancient Greeks, have generally acquiesced, till, latterly, the Germans,\nwith that instinctive hostility to external tradition which\ncharacterises them, have boldly ventured to explain both the Egyptian\nand his colony away into a symbol, or an inanity. Of our most recent\nwriters, however, THIRLWALL, after considering all the German\nspeculations on the subject, is not ashamed to say a word in favour of\nthe possibility or probability of an Egyptian colony in Argos;[f1]\nwhile CLINTON[f2] (Introd. pp. 6, 7), boldly announces the\nprinciple that \"we may acknowledge as real persons all those whom there\nis no reason for rejecting. The presumption is in favour of the early\ntradition. . . . Cadmus and Danaus appear to be real persons; for it is\nconformable to the state of mankind, and perfectly credible that\nPh\u0153nician and Egyptian adventurers, in the ages to which these persons\nare ascribed, should have found their way to the coasts of Greece.\"\nGROTE, however, seems to have acted most wisely in refusing to decide\nwhether any particular legend of the earliest times is mythical or\nhistorical, on the ground that, though many of the legends doubtless\ncontain truth, they contain it only \"in a sort of chemical combination\nwith fiction, which we have no means of decomposing\"--(II. p. 50). This\nplay of \u00c6schylus, therefore, cannot boast of any accessory historical\nsuperadded to the principal poetic interest.\n\nDanaus, the legend tells, though an Egyptian born, was not of Egyptian\ndescent. The original mother of his race was Io, daughter of Inachus,\nking of Argos, and priestess of Hera in that place. How this\nmuch-persecuted maid found her way from the banks of the \"Erasinus old\"\nto the shores of the nurturing Nile, we have seen in the previous piece.\nDanaus had a brother called \u00c6gyptus, the father of fifty sons, as\nhimself was of fifty daughters. These fifty sons \u00c6gyptus sought to\nunite in wedlock to the equal-numbered progeny of his brother; but the\nchaste maidens, whether because they actually thought it unholy (as it\ncertainly is, in the general case, unadvisable) for first cousins to\nmarry first cousins, or {216} because the suit was pressed in a manner\nnot the most respectful, or from a combination of both motives, refused\nto enter into the bond; and, to escape the importunities of their\nstronger male suitors, fled, under the guidance of their father, over\nthe seas to Greece. As kind chance, or, rather, Divine Providence, would\nhave it, they were wafted to that very part of Greece whence their\nfamous ancestress Io had originally proceeded, when the god-sent gadfly\ndrove her, in a career of tempestuous wanderings, through great part of\nEurope and Asia, to Egypt. With their landing on this coast the present\nopera commences; and the action which it represents is the very simple\none of the reception of the Libyan fugitives, by the Argive monarch\nPelasgus (otherwise called Gelanor), and their participation in the\nrights and privileges of Argive citizenship. The transference of their\naffections from Nile to Erasinus is solemnly sung in the concluding\nchaunt. The Danaides are now Argives.\n\nConsidered by itself, the action of this piece is the most meagre that\ncan be conceived, and, as the poet has handled it, contains little that\ncan stir the deeper feelings of the heart, or strike the imagination\nstrongly. That the king of the Argives should feel serious doubts as to\nthe propriety of receiving such a band of foreigners into his kingdom,\nformidable not in their own strength, indeed, but in respect of the\npursuing party, by whom they were claimed, was most natural; equally\nnatural, however, and, in a poetic point of view, necessary, that his\npolitical fears should finally be outweighed by his benevolent regard\nfor the rights of unprotected virgins, and his pious fear of the wrath\nof Jove, the protector of suppliants. The alternation of mind between\nthese contending feelings, till a final resolve is taken on the side of\nthe right, affords no field for the higher faculty of the dramatist to\ndisplay itself. As we have it, accordingly, the Suppliants is, perhaps,\nthe weakest performance of \u00c6schylus. But the fact is, there is the best\nreason to believe that the great father of tragedy never meant this\npiece to stand alone, but wrote it merely to usher in the main action,\nwhich followed in the other pieces of a trilogy; the names of which\npieces--\u1f08\u03b9\u03b3\u03cd\u03c0\u03c4\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9, and \u0394\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03af\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2--are preserved in the list of the\nauthor's pieces still extant. Of this, the whole conclusion of the\npresent piece, and especially the latter half of the last choral chaunt,\nfurnishes the most conclusive evidence.\n\nThe remainder of the story, which formed the main action of the trilogy,\nis well known. Immediately after the reception of the fugitives, by the\nArgives, their pursuers arrive, and land on the coast. This arrival is\nannounced in the last scene of the present piece. On {217} this, Danaus,\nunwilling to lead his kind host into a war, pretends to yield to the\nsuit still as eagerly pressed, and the marriage is agreed on. But a\nterrible revenge had been devised. At the very moment that he hands over\nhis unwilling but obedient daughters to the subjection of their hated\ncousins, he gives them secret instructions to furnish themselves each\nwith a dagger, and, during the watches of the nuptial night, to dip the\nsteel in the throats of their unsuspecting lords. The bloody deed was\ncompleted. Only one of all the fifty daughters, preferring the fame of\ntrue womanhood to the claims of filial homage, spared her mate.\nHypermnestra saved her husband Lynceus. This conduct, of course, brought\nthe daughter into collision with her father and her father's family; and\none of those strifes of our mysterious moral nature was educed, which,\nas we have seen in the trilogy of the Orestiad, it was one great purpose\nof the \u00c6schylean drama to reconcile. If the murder occupied the second\npiece, as the progress of the story naturally brings with it, a third\npiece, according to the analogy of the Eumenides, would be necessary to\nbring about the reconciliation, and effect that purifying of the\npassions which Aristotle points out as the great moral result of tragic\ncomposition. That Aphrodite was the great celestial agent employed in\nthe finale of the Suppliants, as Pallas Athena is in the Furies, has\nbeen well divined; a beautiful fragment in celebration of love, and in\nfavour of Hypermnestra remains; but to attempt a reconstruction of these\nlost pieces at the present day, though an amusement of which the learned\nGermans are fond, is foreign to the habits of the British mind. Those\nwho feel inclined to see what ingenuity may achieve in this region, are\nreferred to Welcker's Trilogie, and Gruppe's Ariadne.\n\nThe moral tone and character of this piece is in the highest degree\npleasing and satisfactory. The Supreme Jove, whose prominent attribute\nis power, here receives a glorification as the protector of the\npersecuted, and the refuge of the distressed. On the duty of\nhospitality, under the sanction of \u0396\u03b5\u03cd\u03c2 \u03be\u03ad\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 and \u1f31\u03ba\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, as\npractised among the ancient Greeks, I refer the reader with pleasure\nto Grote's History of Greece, Vol. II., p. 114.\n\n\"The scene,\" says Potter, \"is near the shore, in an open grove, close to\nthe altar and images of the gods presiding over the sacred games, with a\nview of the sea and ships of Egyptus on one side, and of the town of\nArgos on the other, with hills, and woods, and vales, a river flowing\nbetween them: all, together with the persons of the drama, forming a\npicture that would have well employed the united pencils of Poussin and\nClaude.\"\n\n\n\nTHE SUPPLIANTS\n\n{219}\n\n  [CHORUS, _entering the stage in procession. March time._\n\n CHORUS.\n   Jove, the suppliant's high protector,[n1]\n   Look from Heaven, benignly favouring\n   Us the suppliant band, swift-oared\n   Hither sailing, from the seven mouths\n   Of the fat fine-sanded Nile![n2]\n   From the land that fringes Syria,\n   Land divine, in flight we came,\n   Not by public vote forth-driven,\n   Not by taint of blood divorced\n   From our native state,[f3] but chastely\n   Our abhorrent foot withdrawing\n   From impure ungodly wedlock\n   With \u00c6gyptus' sons, too nearly\n   Cousined with ourselves. For wisely,\n   This our threatened harm well-weighing,\n   Danaus, our sire, prime counsellor,\n   And leader of our sistered band,\n   Timely chose this least of sorrows\n   O'er the salt-sea wave to flee;\n   And here on Argive soil to plant us,\n   Whence our race its vaunted spring\n   Drew divinely, when great Jove\n   Gently thrilled the brize-stung heifer[n3]\n   With his procreant touch, and breathed\n   Godlike virtue on her womb.\n   Where on Earth should we hope refuge\n   On more friendly ground than this,\n   In our hands these green boughs bearing\n   Wreathed with precatory wool?[f4]\n   Ye blissful gods supremely swaying[n4]\n   Land and city, and lucid streams;\n   And ye in sepulchres dark, severely\n {220}\n   Worshipped 'neath the sunless ground;\n   And thou, the third, great Jove the Saviour,\n   Guardian of all holy homes,\n   With your spirit gracious-wafted,\n   Breathe fair welcome on this band\n   Of suppliant maids. But in the depth\n   Of whirling waves engulph the swarm\n   Of insolent youths, \u00c6gyptus' sons,\n   Them, and their sea-cars swiftly oared,\n   Ere this slimy shore receive\n   Their hated footprint. Let them labour,\n   With wrath-spitting seas confronted:\n   By the wild storm wintry-beating,\n   Thunder-crashing, lightning flashing,\n   By the tyrannous blast shower-laden\n   Let them perish, ere they mount\n   Marriage beds which right refuses,[n5]\n   Us, their father's brother's daughters\n   To their lawless yoke enthralling!\n\n   [_The_ CHORUS _assemble in a band round the centre of the Orchestra, and\n   sing the Choral Hymn._\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n Give ear to our prayer, we implore thee,\n Thou son, and the mother that bore thee--\n The calf and the heifer divine![f5]\n   From afar be thine offspring's avenger,\n Even thou, once a beautiful ranger\n   O'er these meads with the grass-cropping kine!\n And thou, whom she bore to her honor,\n When the breath of the Highest was on her,\n   And the touch of the finger divine;\n Thine ear, mighty god, we implore thee\n   To the prayer of thine offspring incline!\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n O Thou who with blessing anointed,\n Wert born when by Fate 'twas appointed,\n   With thy name to all ages a sign![f6]\n In this land of the mother that bore thee,\n Her toils we remember before thee,\n   Where she cropped the green mead with the kine.\n {221}\n O strange were her fortunes, and stranger\n The fate that hath chased me from danger\n   To the home of the heifer divine.\n O son, with the mother that bore thee,\n   Stamp my tale with thy truth for a sign!\n\n STROPHE AND ANTISTROPHE II.\n While we cry, should there haply be near us\n An Argive, an augur,[f7] to hear us,\n    When our shrill-piercing wail\n    His ear shall assail,\n 'Tis the cry he will deem, and none other,\n Of Procne, the woe-wedded mother,\n    The hawk-hunted nightingale;[f8]\n Sad bird, when its known streams it leaveth,\n And with fresh-bleeding grief lonely grieveth,\n    And telleth the tale,\n    With a shrill-voiced wail,\n How the son that she loved, and none other,\n Was slain by his fell-purposed mother,\n    The woe-wedded nightingale!\n\n STROPHE III.\n Even so from the Nile summer-tinted,\n With Ionian wailings unstinted,[n6]\n   My cheek with the keen nail I tear;\n     And I pluck, where it bloweth,\n     Griefs blossom that groweth\n   In this heart first acquainted with care;\n     And I fear the fierce band,\n     From the far misty land,[n7]\n   Whom the swift ships to Argos may bear.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n Ye gods of my race, seeing clearly\n The right which ye cherish so dearly,\n   To the haughty your hatred declare!\n     'Gainst the right ye will never\n     Chaste virgins deliver,\n   The bed of the lawless to share;\n     From the god-fenced altar\n     Each awe-struck assaulter\n   Back shrinks. Our sure bulwark is there.\n\n {222}\n\n STROPHE IV.\n O would that Jove might show to men\n   His counsel as he planned it;\n But ah! he darky weaves the scheme,\n   No mortal eye hath scanned it.\n It burns through darkness brightly clear\n   To whom the god shall show it;\n But mortal man, through cloudy fear,\n   Shall search in vain to know it.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n Firm to the goal his purpose treads,\n   His will knows no frustration;\n When with his brow the mighty god\n   Hath nodded consummation.\n But strangely, strangely weave their maze\n   His counsels, dusky wending,\n Concealed in densely-tangled ways\n   From human comprehending.\n\n STROPHE V.\n From their high-towering hopes the proud\n   In wretched rout he casteth.\n No force he wields; his simple will,\n   His quiet sentence blasteth.\n All godlike power is calm;[n8] and high\n   On thrones of glory seated,\n Jove looks from Heaven with tranquil eye,\n   And sees his will completed.\n\n ANTISTROPHE V.\n Look down, O mighty god, and see\n   How this harsh wedlock planning,\n That dry old tree in saplings green,\n   The insolent lust is fanning!\n Madly he hugs the frenzied plan\n   With perverse heart unbending,\n Hot-spurred, till Ruin seize the man,\n   Too late to think of mending.\n\n STROPHE VI.\n Ah! well-a-day! ah! well-a-day![n9]\n Thus sadly I hymn the sorrowful lay,\n {223}\n    With a shrill-voiced cry,\n    With a sorrow-streaming eye,\n    Well-a-day, woe's me!\n Thus I grace my own tomb with the wail pouring free,\n Thus I sing my own dirge, ah me![f9]\n   Ye Apian hills, be kind to me,\n   And throw not back the stranger's note,\n    But know the Libyan wail.\n   Behold how, rent to sorrow's note,\n   My linen robes all loosely float,\n    And my Sidonian veil.\n\n ANTISTROPHE VI.\n Ah! well-a-day! ah! well-a-day!\n My plighted vows I'll duly pay,\n    Ye gods, if ye will save\n    From the foe, and from the grave\n    My trembling life set free!\n Surges high, surges high, sorrow's many-billowed sea,\n   And woe towers on woe. Ah me!\n   Ye Apian hills,[n10] be kind to me,\n   And throw not back the stranger's note\n    But know the Libyan wail!\n   Behold how, rent to sorrow's note,\n   My linen robes all loosely float,\n    And my Sidonian veil!\n\n STROPHE VII.\n And yet, in that slight timbered house, well-armed\n    With frequent-plashing oar,\n Stiff sail and cordage straining, all unharmed\n    By winter's stormy roar,\n    We reached this Argive shore.\n Safely so far. May Jove, the all-seeing, send\n As the beginning, so the prosperous end.\n    And may he grant, indeed,\n That we, a gracious mother's gracious seed,\n    By no harsh kindred wooed,\n May live on Apian ground unyoked and unsubdued!\n\n {224}\n\n ANTISTROPHE VII.\n May she, the virgin daughter of high Jove,[f10]\n    Our virgin litany hear,\n Our loving homage answering with more love!\n    She that, with face severe,\n    Repelled, in awful fear,\n Each rude aggressor, in firm virtue cased,\n Nor knew the lustful touch divinely chaste.\n    And may she grant, indeed,\n That we, a gracious mother's gracious seed,\n    By no harsh kindred wooed,\n May live on Apian ground unyoked and unsubdued.\n\n STROPHE VIII.\n    But if no aid to us may be,\n   Libya's swart sun-beaten daughters,\n   The rope shall end our toils; and we,\n   Beneath the ground, shall fare to thee,\n    Thou many-guested Jove,[f11]\n   To thee our suppliant boughs we'll spread,\n    Thou Saviour of the weary Dead,\n Far from the shining thrones of blissful gods above.\n    Ah, Jove too well we know\n What wrath divine scourged ancient Io, wailing\n Beneath thy consort's anger heaven-scaling;\n      And even so,\n     On Io's seed may blow\n A buffeting blast from her of black despairful woe.\n\n ANTISTROPHE VIII.\n     O Jove, how then wilt thou be free\n   From just reproach of Libya's daughters,\n     If thou in us dishonoured see\n     Him whom the heifer bore to thee\n       Whom thou didst chiefly love.\n     If thou from us shalt turn thy face,\n     What suppliant then shall seek thy grace?\n O hear my prayer enthroned in loftiest state above!\n     For well, too well, we know\n What wrath divine scourged ancient Io, wailing\n Beneath thy consort's anger heaven-scaling;\n {225}\n      And even so,\n     On Io's seed may blow\n A buffeting blast from her of black despairful woe.\n\n   [_Enter_ DANAUS.\n\n DANAUS.\n Be wise, my daughters. In no rash flight with me,\n A hoary father, and a faithful pilot,\n Ye crossed the seas; nor less is wisdom needful\n Ashore; be wise, and on your heart's true tablet\n Engrave my words. For lo! where mounts the dust,\n A voiceless herald of their coming; hear\n Their distant-rumbling wheels! A host I see\n Of bright shield-bearing and spear-shaking men,\n Swift steeds, and rounded cars.[n11] Of our here landing,\n Timely apprised, the chiefs that rule this country\n Come with their eyes to read us. But be their coming\n Harmless, or harsh with fell displeasure, here\n On this high-seat of the Agonian gods[n12]\n Is safety for my daughters; for an altar\n Is a sure tower of strength, a shield that bears\n The rattling terror dintless. Go ye, therefore,\n Embrace these altars, in your sistered hands[n13]\n These white-wreathed precatory boughs presenting,\n Which awful Jove reveres; and with choice phrase\n Wisely your pity-moving tale-commend\n When they shall ask you; as becomes the stranger,\n The bloodless motive of your flight declaring\n With clear recital. The bold tongue eschewing,\n With sober-fronted face and quiet eye\n Your tale unfold. The garrulous prate, the length\n Of slow-drawn speech beware. Such fault offends\n This people sorely. Chiefly know to yield:\n Thou art the weaker--a poor helpless stranger--\n The bold-mouthed phrase suits ill with thy condition.\n\n CHORUS.\n Father, thou speakest wisely: nor unwisely\n Thy words would we receive, in memory's ward\n Storing thy hests; ancestral Jove be witness!\n\n DANAUS.\n Even so; and with benignant eye look down![n14]\n\n CHORUS.\n * * * *\n\n DANAUS.\n Delay not. In performance show thy strength.\n\n CHORUS.\n Even there where thou dost sit, I'd sit beside thee!\n\n DANAUS.\n O Jove show pity ere pity come too late!\n\n CHORUS.\n Jove willing, all is well.\n\n {226}\n\n DANAUS.\n                           Him, therefore, pray,\n There where his bird the altar decorates:[n15] pray\n Apollo, too, the pure, the exiled once[n16]\n From bright Olympus.\n\n CHORUS.\n                     The sun's restoring rays\n We pray: the god what fate he knew will pity.\n\n DANAUS.\n May he with pity and with aid be near!\n\n CHORUS.\n Whom next shall I invoke?\n\n DANAUS.\n                          Thou see'st this trident\n And know'st of whom the symbol?\n\n CHORUS.\n                                May the same\n That sent us hither kindly now receive us!\n\n DANAUS.\n Here's Hermes likewise, as Greece knows the god.[n17]\n\n CHORUS.\n Be he my herald, heralding the free!\n\n DANAUS.\n This common altar of these mighty gods\n Adore: within these holy precincts lodged,\n Pure doves from hawks of kindred plumage fleeing,\n Foes of your blood, polluters of your race.\n Can bird eat bird and be an holy thing?[n18]\n Can man be pure, from an unwilling father\n Robbing unwilling brides? Who does these deeds\n Will find no refuge from lewd guilt in Hades;\n For there, as we have heard, another Jove\n Holds final judgment on the guilty shades.\n But now be ready. Here await their coming;\n May the gods grant a victory to our prayers!\n\n   [_Enter_ KING.\n\n KING.\n Whom speak we here? Whence come? Certes no Greeks.\n Your tire rich-flaunting with barbaric pride\n Bespeaks you strangers. Argos knows you not,\n Nor any part of Greece. Strange surely 'tis\n That all unheralded, unattended all,\n And of no host the acknowledged guest, unfearing\n Ye tread this land.[n19] If these boughs, woolly-wreathed,\n That grace the altars of the Agonian gods\n Speak what to Greeks they should speak, ye are suppliants.\n Thus much I see: what more remains to guess\n I spare; yourselves have tongues to speak the truth.\n\n CHORUS.\n That we are strangers is most true; but whom\n See we in thee? a citizen? a priest?\n A temple warder with his sacred wand?\n The ruler of the state?\n\n {227}\n\n KING.\n Speak with a fearless tongue, and plainly. I\n Of old earth-born Pal\u00e6cthon am the son,[n20]\n My name Pelasgus, ruler of this land;\n And fathered with my name the men who reap\n Earth's fruits beneath my sway are called Pelasgi;\n And all the land where Algos flows, and Strymon,[n21]\n Toward the westering sun my sceptre holds.\n My kingdom the Perrh\u00e6bians bound, and those\n Beyond high Pindus, by P\u00e6onia, and\n The Dodon\u00e9an heights; the briny wave\n Completes the circling line; within these bounds\n I rule; but here, where now thy foot is planted,\n The land is Apia, from a wise physician\n Of hoary date so called. He, from Naupactus,\n Apollo's son, by double right, physician\n And prophet both,[n22] crossed to this coast, and freed it\n By holy purifyings, from the plague\n Of man-destroying monsters, which the ground\n With ancient taint of blood polluted bore.\n This plague his virtue medicinal healed,\n That we no more unfriendly fellowship\n Hold with the dragon-brood. Such worthy service\n With thankful heart the Argive land received,\n And Apis lives remembered in her prayers.\n Of this from me assured, now let me hear\n Your whence, and what your purpose. Briefly speak;\n This people hates much phrase.\n\n CHORUS.\n                               Our tale is short.\n We by descent are Argives, from the seed\n Of the heifer sprung, whose womb was blest in bearing;\n And this in every word we can confirm\n By manifest proofs.\n\n KING.\n                    That ye are Argives, this\n My ear receives not; an unlikely tale!\n Like Libyan women rather; not a line\n I trace in you that marks our native race.\n Nile might produce such daughters; ye do bear\n A Cyprian character in your female features,\n The impressed likeness of some plastic male.[f12]\n Of wandering Indians I have heard, that harness\n Camels for mules, huge-striding, dwelling near\n The swarthy \u00c6thiop land; ye may be such;\n Or, had ye war's accoutrement, the bow,\n {228}\n Ye might be Amazons, stern, husband-hating,\n Flesh-eating maids. But speak, that I may know\n The truth. How vouch ye your descent from Argos?\n\n CHORUS.\n They say that Io, on this Argive ground,\n Erst bore the keys to Hera,[n23] then 'tis said,\n So runs the general rumour--[n24]\n\n KING.\n                                  I have heard.\n Was it not so, Jove with the mortal maid\n Mingled in love?\n\n CHORUS.\n                 Even so; in love they mingled,\n Deceiving Hera's bed.\n\n KING.\n                      And how then ended\n The Olympian strife?\n\n CHORUS.\n                     Enraged, the Argive goddess\n To a heifer changed the maid.\n\n KING.\n                              And the god came\n To the fair horned heifer?\n\n CHORUS.\n                           Like a leaping bull,\n Transformed he came;[n25] so the hoar legend tells.\n\n KING.\n And what did then the potent spouse of Jove?\n\n CHORUS.\n She sent a watchman ringed with eyes to watch.\n\n KING.\n This all-beholding herdsman, who was he?\n\n CHORUS.\n Argus the son of Earth, by Hermes slain.\n\n KING.\n How further fared the ill-fated heifer, say?\n\n CHORUS.\n A persecuting brize was sent to sting her.\n\n KING.\n And o'er the wide earth goaded her the brize?\n\n CHORUS.\n Just so; thy tale with mine accordant chimes.\n\n KING.\n Then to Canopus, and to Memphis came she?\n\n CHORUS.\n There, touched by Jove's boon hand, she bore a son.\n\n KING.\n The heifer's boasted offspring, who was he?\n\n CHORUS.\n Epaphus, who plainly with his name declares\n His mother's safety wrought by touch of Jove.\n\n KING.\n * * * *[n26]\n\n CHORUS.\n Libya, dowered with a fair land's goodly name.\n\n KING.\n And from this root divine what other shoots?\n\n CHORUS.\n Belus, my father's father, and my uncle's.\n\n KING.\n Who is thy honoured father?\n\n CHORUS.\n                            Danaus;\n And fifty sons his brother hath, my uncle.\n\n KING.\n This brother who? Spare not to tell the whole.\n\n CHORUS.\n \u00c6gyptus. Now, O king, our ancient race\n Thou knowest. Us from our prostration raising,\n Thou raisest Argos.\n\n {229}\n\n KING.\n                     Argives in sooth ye seem,\n By old descent participant of the soil;\n But by what stroke of sore mischance harsh-smitten,\n Dared ye to wander from your native seats?\n\n CHORUS.\n Pelasgian prince, a motley-threaded web\n Is human woe; a wing of dappled plumes.\n Past hope and faith it was that we, whose blood\n From Argive Io flows, to Io's city,\n In startled flight, should measure back our way,\n To escape from hated marriage.\n\n KING.\n                               How say'st thou?\n To escape from marriage thou art here, displaying\n These fresh-cropt branches, snowy-wreathed, before\n The Agonian gods?\n\n CHORUS.\n                  Ay! Never, never may we\n Be thralled to \u00c6gyptus' sons!\n\n KING.\n                              Speak'st thou of hate\n To them, or of a bond your laws forbid?\n\n CHORUS.\n Both this and that.[n27] Who should be friends were foes,\n And blood with blood near-mingled basely flows.\n\n KING.\n But branch on branch well grafted goodlier grows.\n\n CHORUS.\n Urge not this point; but rather think one word\n From thee the wretched rescues.\n\n KING.\n                                How then shall I\n My friendly disposition show?\n\n CHORUS.\n                              We ask\n But this--from our pursuers save us.\n\n KING.\n                                          What!\n Shall I for unknown exiles breed a war?\n\n CHORUS.\n Justice will fight for him who fights for us.\n\n KING.\n Doubtless; if Justice from the first hath stamped\n Your cause for hers.\n\n CHORUS.\n (_pointing to the altar_)\n                     The state's high poop here crowned\n Revere.\n\n KING.\n        This green environment of shade,\n Mantling the seats of the gods I see, and shudder.\n\n CHORUS.\n The wrath of suppliant Jove[n28] is hard to bear.\n\n STROPHE I.\n     O hear my cry, benignly hear!\n      Thou son of Pal\u00e6cthon, hear me!\n     The fugitive wandering suppliant hear!\n      Thou king of Pelasgians, hear me!\n {230}\n     Like a heifer young by the wolf pursued[n29]\n      O'er the rocks so cliffy and lonely,\n     And loudly it lows to the herdsman good,\n      Whose strength can save it only.\n\n KING.\n My eyes are tasked; there, 'neath the shielding shade\n Of fresh-lopt branches I behold you clinging\n To these Agonian gods; but what I do\n Must spare the state from harm. I must provide\n That no unlooked-for unprepared event\n Beget new strife; of this we have enough.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n   Great Jove that allotteth their lot to all,\n    By his sentence of right shall clear thee,\n   Dread Themis that heareth the suppliants' call,\n    No harm shall allow to come near thee.\n   Though I speak to the old with the voice of the young,\n    Do the will of the gods, and surely\n   Their favour to thee justly weighed shall belong,\n    When thy gifts thou offerest purely.\n\n KING.\n Not at my hearth with precatory boughs\n Ye lie. The state, if guilty taint from you\n Affect the general weal, will for the state\n Take counsel. I nor pledge nor promise give,\n Till all the citizens hear what thou shalt say.\n\n STROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n   Thou art the state, and the people art thou,[n30]\n    The deed that thou doest who judges?\n   The hearth and the altar before thee bow,\n    The grace that thou grantest who grudges?\n   Thou noddest; the will that thou willest is thine,\n    Thy vote with no voter thou sharest;\n   The throne is all thine, and the sceptre divine,\n    And thy guilt, when thou sinnest, thou bearest.\n\n KING.\n Guilt lie on those that hate me! but your prayers\n Harmless I may not hear; and to reject them\n Were harsh. To do, and not to do alike\n Perplex me; on the edge of choice I tremble.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n   Him worship who sitteth a watchman in Heaven,\n    And looks on this life of our labour;\n {231}\n   Nor looketh in vain, when the wretched is driven\n    From the gate of his pitiless neighbour.\n   On our knees when we fall, and for mercy we call,\n    If his right thou deny to the stranger,\n   Jove shall look on thy home, from his thunder dome,\n    Sternly wrathful, the suppliants' avenger.\n\n KING.\n But if \u00c6gyptus' sons shall claim you, pleading\n Their country's laws, and their near kinship, who\n Shall dare to stand respondent? You must plead\n Your native laws, so the laws plead for you,\n And speak you free from who would force your love.\n\n STROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n   Ah ne'er to the rough-handed youth let me yield,\n   But rather alone, 'neath the wide starry field,\n    Let me wander, an outcast, a stranger!\n   The ill-sorted yoke I abhor: and do thou,\n   With Justice to second thee, judge for me now,\n    And fear Him above, the Avenger!\n\n KING.\n Not I shall judge: it is no easy judgment.\n What I have said, I said. Without the people\n I cannot do this thing;[n31] being absolute king,\n I would not. Justly, if mischance shall follow,\n The popular tongue will blame the ruler, who,\n To save the stranger, ruined his own flock.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n   Where kindred with kindred contendeth in war,\n   Jove looks on the strife, and decides from afar,\n    Where he holdeth the scales even-handed;[f13]\n   O why wilt thou doubt to declare for the right?\n   He blesseth the good, but in anger will smite,\n    Where the sons of the wicked are banded.\n\n KING.\n To advise for you in such confounding depths,\n My soul should be a diver, to plunge down\n Far in the pool profound with seeing eye,\n And feel no dizziness. 'Tis no light matter\n Here to unite your safety and the state's.\n If that your kindred claim you as their right,\n And we withstand, a bloody strife ensues.\n If from these altars of the gods we tear you,\n Your chosen refuge, we shall surely bring\n {232}\n The all-destroying god, the stern Alastor,[f14]\n To house with us, whom not the dead in Hades\n Can flee. Is here no cause to ponder well?\n\n STROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n       Ponder well;\n       With thee to dwell,\n   A righteous-minded host receive us!\n       Weary-worn,\n       Exiles lorn,\n   From the godless men that grieve us\n       Save to-day;\n       Nor cast-a-way\n   Homeless, houseless, hopeless leave us!\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n       Shall rash assaulters\n       From these altars\n   Rudely drag the friendless stranger?\n       Thou art king,\n       'Neath thy wing\n   Cowers in vain the weak from danger?\n       Thy terror show\n       To our fierce foe,\n   Fear, O fear our High Avenger!\n\n STROPHE II.\n       Where they see\n       The gods and thee,\n   Shall their lawless will not falter?\n       Shall they tear\n       My floating hair,\n   As a horse dragged by the halter?\n       Wilt thou bear\n       Him to tear\n       My frontlets fair,\n   My linen robes--the bold assaulter?\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n       One the danger,\n       If the stranger\n   Thou reject, or welcome wisely:\n       For thee and thine\n       To Mars a fine\n {233}\n   Thou shalt pay the same precisely:\n       From Egypt far\n       Fearing war,\n       Thou shalt mar\n   Thy peace with mighty Jove, not wisely.\n\n KING.\n Both ways I'm marred. Even here my wits are stranded.\n With these or those harsh war to make, strong Force\n Compels my will. Nailed am I like a vessel\n Screwed to the dock, beneath the shipwright's tool.\n Which way I turn is woe. A plundered house\n By grace of possessory Jove[n32] may freight\n New ships with bales that far outweigh the loss;\n And a rash tongue that overshoots the mark\n With barb\u00e9d phrase that harshly frets the heart,\n With one smooth word, may charm the offence away.\n But ere the sluice of kindred blood be opened,\n With vows and victims we must pray the gods\n Importunate, if perchance such fateful harm\n They may avert. Myself were little wise\n To mingle in this strife: of such a war\n Most ignorant is most blest: but may the gods\n Deceive my fears, and crown your hopes with blessing!\n\n CHORUS.\n Now hear the end of my respectful prayers.\n\n KING.\n I hear. Speak on. Thy words shall not escape me.\n\n CHORUS.\n Thou see'st this sash, this zone my stole begirding.\n\n KING.\n Fit garniture of women. Yes; I see it.\n\n CHORUS.\n This zone well-used may serve us well.\n\n KING.\n                                       How so?\n\n CHORUS.\n If thou refuse to pledge our safety, then--\n\n KING.\n Thy zone shall pledge it how?\n\n CHORUS.\n                              Thou shalt behold\n These ancient altars with new tablets hung.\n\n KING.\n Thou speak'st in riddles. Explain.\n\n CHORUS.\n                                   These gods shall see me\n Here hanging from their shrines.\n\n KING.\n                                 Hush, maiden! Hush!\n Thy words pierce through my marrow!\n\n CHORUS.\n                                    Thou hast heard\n No blind enigma now. I gave it eyes.\n\n KING.\n Alas! with vast environment of ills\n I'm hedged all round. Misfortune, like a sea,\n Comes rushing in: the deep unfathomed flood\n I fear to cross, and find no harbour nigh.\n {234}\n Thy prayer if I refuse, black horror rises\n Before me, that no highest-pointed aim\n May overshoot. If posted fore these walls\n I give thy kindred battle, I shall be\n Amerced with bitter loss, who reckless dared\n For woman's sake to incarnadine the plain\n With brave men's blood. Yet I perforce must fear\n The wrath of suppliant Jove, than which no terror\n Awes human hearts more strongly. Take these branches,\n Thou aged father of these maids, and place them\n On other altars of the native gods,\n Where they may speak, true heralds of thy mission,\n To all the citizens: and, mark me, keep\n My words within thy breast: for still the people\n To spy a fault in whoso bears authority\n Have a most subtle sight. Trust your good cause.\n Thy pitiful tale may move their righteous ire\n Against your haughty-hearted persecutors,\n And 'neath their wings they'll shield you. The afflicted\n Plead for themselves: their natural due is kindness.\n\n DANAUS.\n Your worth we know to prize, and at their weight\n Our high protector's friendly words we value.\n But send, we pray, attendant guides to show us\n The pillar-compassed seats divine,[n33] the altars\n That stand before their temples, who protect\n This city and this land, and to insure\n Our safety mid the people: for our coming\n (Being strangers from the distant Nile, and not\n Like you that drink the stream of Inachus\n In features or in bearing) might seem strange.\n Too bold an air might rouse suspicion; men\n Oft-times have slain their best friends unawares.\n\n KING.\n (_to the Attendants_)\n See him escorted well! conduct him hence\n To the altars of the city, to the shrines\n Of the protecting gods, wasting no speech\n On whom you meet. Attend the suppliant stranger!\n\n   [_Exeunt Attendants with_ DANAUS.\n\n CHORUS.\n These words to him: and, with his sails well trimmed,\n Fair be his voyage! But I, what shall I do,\n My anchor where?\n\n KING.\n                 Here leave these boughs that prove\n Thy sorrows.\n\n {235}\n\n CHORUS.\n             Here at thy rever'd command\n I leave them.\n\n KING.\n This ample wood shall shade thee; wait thou here!\n\n CHORUS.\n No sacred grove is this: how should it shield me?\n\n KING.\n We will not yield thee to the vultures' claws.\n\n CHORUS.\n But worse than vultures, worse than dragons threat us.\n\n KING.\n Gently. To fair words give a fair reply.\n\n CHORUS.\n I'm terror-struck. Small marvel that I fret.\n\n KING.\n Fear should be far, when I the king am near.[f15]\n\n CHORUS.\n With kind words cheer me, and kind actions too.\n\n KING.\n Thy father will return anon; meanwhile\n I go to call the assembly of the people,[n34]\n And in thy favour move them, if I can.\n Thy father, too, I'll aptly train, how he\n Should woo their favour. Wait ye here, and pray\n The native gods to crown your heart's desire.\n I go to speed the business; may Persuasion\n And Chance, with happy issue pregnant, guide me!\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n    King of all kings, high-blest above\n     Each blest celestial nature,\n    Strength of the strong, all-glorious Jove,\n     All crowning Consummator![n35]\n    Hear thou our prayer: the proud confound;\n     With hate pursue the hateful,\n    And plunge in purpling pools profound\n     The black-bench'd bark, the fateful!\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n    Our ancient line from thee we trace\n     Our root divinely planted;\n    Look on these sisters with the grace\n     To that loved maid once granted,\n    Our mother Io; and renew\n     Sweet memory in the daughters\n    Of her thy gentle touch who knew\n     By Nile's deep-rolling waters.\n\n STROPHE II.\n   Here, even here, where 'mid the browsing kine,\n   My Argive mother fed her eye divine,\n      With rich mead's flowery store,\n {236}\n   My Libyan foot I've planted; hence by the brize[n36]\n   Divinely fretted with fitful oar she hies[n37]\n      From various shore to shore,\n   God-madded wanderer. Twice the billowy wave\n   She crossed; and twice her fated name she gave\n      To the wide sea's straitened roar.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n   Spurred through the Asian land with swiftest speed\n   She fled, where Phrygian flocks far-pasturing feed;\n      Then restless travelled o'er\n   Mysia, where Teuthras holds his fortress high,\n   Cilician and Pamphylian heights, and nigh\n      Where roaring waters pour\n   From fountains ever fresh their torrent floods,\n   And Aphrodite's land whose loamy roods\n      Swell with the wheaten store.[f16]\n\n STROPHE III.\n   Thence by her wing\u00e9d keeper stung, she speeds\n   To the land divine, the many-nurturing meads,\n      And to the snow-fed stream,\n   Which like impetuous Typhon,[f17] vasty pours\n   Its purest waves, that the salubrious shores\n      From pestilent taint redeem.[f18]\n   Here from harsh Hera's madly-goading pest,\n   From hattering chase of undeserved unrest,\n      At length by the holy stream.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n   She rests. Pale terror smote their hearts who saw.\n   The unwonted sight beheld with startled awe\n      The thronging sons of Nile;\n   Nor dared to approach this thing of human face,[n38]\n   Portentous-mingled with the lowing race,\n      Treading the Libyan soil.\n   Who then was he, the brize-stung Io's friend,\n   With charms of soothing virtue strong to end\n      Her weary-wandering toil?\n\n STROPHE IV.\n   Jove, mighty Jove, Heaven's everlasting king,\n      He soft-inspiring came,\n {237}\n   And with fond force innocuous heals her ills;\n   She from her eyes in lucent drops distils\n      The stream of sorrowful shame,\n   And in her womb from Jove a burden bore,\n      A son of blameless fame,\n   Who with his prosperous life long blessed the Libyan shore.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n   Far-pealed the land with jubilant shout--from Jove,\n      From Jove it surely came,\n   This living root of a far-branching line!\n   For who but Jove prevailed, with power divine,\n      Harsh Hera's wrath to tame?\n   Such the great work of Jove; and we are such,\n      O Jove, our race who claim\n   From him whose name declares the virtue of thy touch.\n\n STROPHE V.\n   For whom more justly shall my hymn be chaunted\n   Than thee, above all gods that be, high-vaunted,\n      Root of my race, great Jove;\n   Prime moulder from whose plastic-touching hand\n   Life leaps: thine ancient-minded counsels stand,\n      Thou all-devising Jove.\n\n ANTISTROPHE V.\n   High-throned above the highest as the lowest,\n   Beyond thee none, and mightier none thou knowest,\n      The unfearing, all-feared one.\n   When his deep thought takes counsel to fulfil,\n   No dull delays clog Jove's decided will;[n39]\n      He speaks, and it is done.\n\n   [_Enter_ DANAUS.\n\n DANAUS.\n Be of good cheer, my daughters! All is well,\n The popular voice hath perfected our prayers.\n\n CHORUS.\n Hail father, bearer of good news: but say,\n How was the matter stablished? and how far\n Prevailed the people's uplifted hands to save us?\n\n DANAUS.\n Not doubtingly, but with a bold decision,\n That made my old heart young again to see't.\n With one acclaim, a forest of right hands\n Rose through the hurtled air. These Libyan exiles--\n So ran the popular will--shall find a home\n {238}\n In Argos, free, and from each robber hand\n Inviolate, the native or the stranger;\n And, whoso holding Argive land refuses\n To shield these virgins from the threatened force,\n Disgrace shall brand him, and the popular vote\n Oust him from Argos. Such response the king\n Persuasive forced, with wise admonishment;\n Urging the wrath of Jove, which else provoked\n Would fatten on our woes, and the twin wrong\n To you the stranger, and to them the city,\n Pollution at their gate, a fuel to feed\n Ills without end. These words the Argive people\n Answered with suffragating hands, nor waited\n The herald's call to register their votes:\n Just eloquence ruled their willing ear, and Jove\n Crowned their fair purpose with the perfect deed. [_Exit._\n\n CHORUS.\n     Come then, sisters, pour we freely\n     Grateful prayers for Argive kindness;\n     Jove, the stranger's friend, befriend us,\n     While from stranger's mouth sincerest\n       Here we voice the hymn;\n     To a blameless issue, surely,\n       Jove will guide the fate.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n     Jove-born gods, benignly bending,\n     Look, we pray, with eyes befriending,\n       On these Argive halls!\n     Ne'er may Mars, the wanton daring,\n     With his shrill trump, joyless-blaring,\n     Wrap, in wild flames, fiercely flaring,\n       These Pelasgian walls!\n     Go! thy gory harvest reaping\n     Far from us: thy bloody weeping\n       Distant tribes may know.\n     Bless, O Jove, this Argive nation!\n     They have heard the supplication\n       Of thy suppliants low;\n     Where the swooping Fate abased us,\n     They with Mercy's vote upraised us\n       From the prostrate woe!\n\n {239}\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n     Not with the male, the stronger, erring,\n     But, woman's weaker cause preferring,\n       Stood their virtue proof:\n     Wisely Jove, the Avenger, fearing,\n     To the chastened eye appearing,\n     High his front of wrath up-rearing\n       'Gainst the guilty roof.\n     For heavily, heavily weighs the Alastor,\n     Scapeless, and, with sore disaster,\n       Sinks the sinner low.\n     Bless, O Jove, this Argive nation,\n     That knew their kindred's supplication,\n       And saved them from the foe:\n     And when their vows they pay, then surely\n     Gifts from clean hands offered purely\n       Thou in grace shalt know.\n\n STROPHE II.\n     High these suppliant branches raising,\n     Sisters, ancient Argos praising,\n       Pour the grateful strain!\n     Far from thy Pelasgian portals\n     Dwell black Plague, from drooping mortals\n       Ebbing life to drain!\n     May'st thou see the crimson river\n     From fierce home-bred slaughter, never\n       Flowing o'er thy plain!\n     Far from thee the youth-consuming\n       Blossom-plucking strife!\n     The harsh spouse of Aphrodite,\n     Furious Mars in murder mighty,\n     Where he sees thy beauty blooming,\n       Spare his blood-smeared knife!\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n     May a reverend priesthood hoary\n     Belt thy shrines, their chiefest glory,\n       With an holy band!\n     By the bountiful libation,\n     By the blazing pile, this nation\n       Shall securely stand.\n     Jove, the great All-ruler, fearing,\n {240}\n     Jove, the stranger's stay, revering,\n       Ye shall save the land;\n     Jove, sure-throned above all cavil,\n       Rules by ancient right,\n     May just rulers never fail thee!\n     Holy Hecate's aid avail thee,[n40]\n     To thy mothers when in travail\n       Sending labours light!\n\n STROPHE III.\n     May no wasting march of ruin\n     Work, O Argos, thine undoing!\n       Never may'st thou hear\n     Cries of Mars, the shrill, the lyreless!\n     Ne'er may tearful moans, and quireless,\n       Wake the sleeper's ear!\n     Far from thee the shapes black-trooping\n     Of disease, delightless-drooping!\n     May the blazing death-winged arrow\n     Of the Sun-god spare the marrow\n       Of thy children dear!\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n     Mighty Jove, the gracious giver,\n     With his full-sheaved bounty ever\n       Crown the fruited year!\n     Flocks that graze before thy dwelling\n     With rich increase yearly swelling\n       The prosperous ploughman cheer!\n     May the gods no grace deny thee,\n     And the tuneful Muses nigh thee,\n     With exuberant raptures brimming,\n     From virgin throats thy praises hymning\n       Hold the charm\u00e8d ear!\n\n STROPHE IV.\n     O'er the general weal presiding,\n     They that rule with far-providing\n     Wisdom sway, and stably-guiding,\n       Changeful counsels mar!\n     Timely with each foreign nation\n     Leagues of wise conciliation\n     Let them join, fierce wars avoiding,\n       From sharp losses far!\n\n {241}\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n     The native gods, strong to deliver,\n     With blood of oxen free-poured ever,\n     With laurel-branches failing never,\n       Piously adore!\n     HONOUR THY PARENTS: spurn not lightly\n     This prime statute sanctioned rightly;\n     Cling to this, a holy liver,\n       Steadfast evermore!\n\n   [_Re-enter_ DANAUS.\n\n DANAUS.\n Well hymned, my daughters! I commend your prayers;\n But brace your hearts, nor fear, though I, your father,\n Approach the bearer of unlooked-for news.\n For from this consecrated hold of gods\n I spy the ship; too gallantly it peers\n To cheat mine eye. The sinuous sail I see,\n The bulging fence-work on each side,[n41] the prow\n Fronted with eyes to track its watery way,[n42]\n True to the steerman's hint that sits behind,\n And with no friendly bearing. On the deck\n Appear the crew, their swarthy limbs more swart\n By snow-white vests revealed: a goodly line\n Of succour in the rear: but in the van\n The admiral ship, with low-furled sail makes way\n By the swift strokes of measured-beating oars.\n Wait calmly ye, and with well-counselled awe\n Cling to the gods; the while ye watch their coming,\n Myself will hence, and straight return with aid\n To champion our need.[n43] For I must look for\n Some herald or ambassador claiming you,\n Their rightful prey, forthwith; but fear ye not,\n Their harsh will may not be. This warning take\n Should we with help be slow, remain you here\n Nor leave these gods, your strength. Faint not: for surely\n Comes the appointed hour, and will not stay,\n When godless men to Jove just fine shall pay.\n\n STROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n   Father, I tremble, lest the fleet-winged ships,\n   Ere thou return, shall land--soon--very soon!\n   O father, I tremble to stay, and not flee,\n     When the bands of the ruthless are near!\n {242}\n   My flight to foreclose from the chase of my foes!\n     O father, I faint for fear!\n\n DANAUS.\n Fear not, my children. The accomplished vote\n Of Argos saves you. They are champions sworn.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n They come--destruction's minions mad with hate,\n Of fight insatiate: well thou know'st the men.\n   With their host many-counted, their ships dark-fronted,[n44]\n    They are near, O father, how near!\n   Their ships stoutly-timbered, their crews swarthy-membered,\n    Triumphant in wrath I fear!\n\n DANAUS.\n Even let them come. They'll find their match in Argos;\n A strong-limbed race with noon-day sweats well hardened.[n45]\n\n STROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n Only not leave me! Pray thee, father, stay!\n Weak is a lonely woman. No Mars is in her.[n46]\n   Dark-counselled, false, cunning-hearted are they,\n    Unholy, as obscene crows\n   On the feast of the altar that filthily prey;\n    They fear not the gods, my foes!\n\n DANAUS.\n 'Twill make our cause the stronger, daughters, if\n Their crime be sacrilege, and their foes the gods.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n The trident and the sacred blazonry\n Will not repel their violent hands, O father!\n   They are proud, haughty-hearted, a high-blown race;\n    They are hot, they are mad for the fray!\n   With the hound in their heart, and the dog in their face,\n    They will tear from the altar their prey.\n\n DANAUS.\n Dogs let them be, the world has wolves to master them!\n And good Greek corn is better than papyrus.[n47]\n\n CHORUS.\n Being reasonless as brutes, unholy monsters,\n And spurred with wrath we must beware their fury.\n\n DANAUS.\n 'Tis no light work to land a fleet. To find\n Safe roads, sure anchorage, and to make fast\n The cables, this not with mere thought is done.\n The shepherds of the ships[n48] are slow to feel\n Full confidence, the more that on this coast\n Harbours are few.[n49] Besides, thou see'st the sun\n {243}\n Slants to the night; and still a prudent pilot\n Fears in the dark. No man will disembark,\n Trust me, till all are firmly anchored. Thou\n Through all thy terrors still cling to the gods,\n Thy most sure stay. Thy safety's pledged. For me\n I'm old, but with the tongue of fluent youth\n I'll speak for thee, a pleader without blame. [_Exit._\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n O hilly land, high-honoured land,\n What wait we now, poor fugitive band?\n        Some dark, dark cave\n Show me, within thy winding strand,\n        To hide and save!\n Would I might vanish in smoke, ascending\n To Heaven, with Jove's light clouds dim-blending\n        In misty air,\n Like wingless, viewless dust, and ending\n        In nothing there!\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n 'Tis more than heart may bear. Quick Fear\n My quaking life with dusky drear\n        Alarm surroundeth!\n My father spied my ruin: sheer\n        Despair confoundeth.\n Sooner, high-swung from fatal rope,\n Here may I end both life and hope,\n        And strong Death bind me,\n Than hated hearts shall reach their scope,\n        And shame shall find me!\n\n STROPHE II.\n Would I were throned in ether high,\n Where snows are born, and through the sky\n The white rack skurries! Would that I\n        Might sit sublime\n On a hanging cliff where lone winds sigh,[n50]\n Where human finger never showed\n The far-perched vultures' drear abode,\n        Nor goat may climb!\n {244}\n Thence sheer to leap, and end for ever\n        My life and name,\n Ere forceful hands this heart deliver\n        To married shame!\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n There, where no friendly foot may stray,\n There let me lie, my limbs a prey\n To dogs and birds: I not gainsay:\n        'Twas wisely said,\n Free from much woe who dies to-day\n Shall be to-morrow. Rather than wedded\n To whom I hate, let me be bedded\n        Now with the dead!\n Or if there be, my life to free,\n        A way, declare it,\n Ye gods!--a surgeon's cut for me,\n        My heart shall bear it!\n\n STROPHE III.\n Voice ye your sorrow! with the cry\n Of doleful litany pierce the sky!\n For freedom, for quick rescue cry\n        To him above!\n Ruler of Earth, look from thy throne,\n        With eyes of love!\n These deeds of violence wilt thou own,\n Nor know thy prostrate suppliant's groan,\n        Almighty Jove?\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n \u00c6gyptus' sons, a haughty race,\n Follow my flight with sleepless chase,\n With whoop and bay they scent my trace\n        To force my love.\n Thy beam is true; both good and ill\n        Thy sure scales prove,\n Thou even-handed! Mortals still\n Reap fair fulfilment from thy will,\n        All-crowning Jove.\n\n   [CHORUS, _in separate voices, and short hurried exclamations:_[n51]\n\n VOICE 1.\n   Ah me! he lands! he leaps ashore!\n   He strides with ruffian hands to hale us!\n\n {245}\n\n VOICE 2.\n   Cry, sisters, cry! swift help implore!\n   If here to cry may aught avail us!\n\n VOICE 3.\n   Ah me! 'tis but the muffled roar\n   Of forceful storms soon to assail us!\n\n VOICE 1.\n   Flee to the gods! to the altars cling!\n\n VOICE 2.\n   By sea, by land, the ruthless foe\n   Grimly wantons in our woe!\n\n VOICE 3.\n   Beneath thy wing shield us, O king!\n\n   [_Enter_ HERALD.\n\n HERALD.\n Hence to the ships! to the good ships fare ye![n52]\n Swiftly as your feet may bear ye!\n\n CHORUS.\n     Tear us! tear us!\n     Rend us rather,\n     Torture and tear us!\n     From this body\n     Cut the head!\n     Gorily gather\n     Us to the dead!\n\n HERALD.\n Hence to the ships, away! away!\n A curse on you, and your delay!\n O'er the briny billowy way\n Thou shalt go to-day, to-day!\n Wilt thou stand, a mulish striver,\n I can spur, a forceful driver;\n Deftly, deftly, thou shalt trip\n To the stoutly-timbered ship!\n If to yield thou wilt not know,\n Gorily, gorily thou shalt go!\n An' thou be not madded wholly,\n Know thy state, and quit thy folly!\n\n CHORUS.\n Help, ho! help, ho! help!\n\n HERALD.\n To the ships! to the ships away with me!\n These gods of Argos what reck we?\n\n CHORUS.\n     Never, O never\n     The nurturing river,\n     Of life the giver,\n     The healthful flood\n     That quickens the blood\n      Let me behold!\n     An Argive am I,[f19]\n      From Inachus old,\n     These gods deny\n      Thy claim. Withhold!\n\n {246}\n\n HERALD.\n To the ships, to the ships, with march not slow,\n Will ye, nill ye, ye must go!\n Quickly, quickly, hence away!\n Know thy master and obey!\n Ere a worse thing thou shalt know--\n Blows and beating--gently go!\n\n STROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n     Worse than worsest\n     May'st thou know!\n     As thou cursest,\n     Curst be so!\n     The briny billow\n     O'er thee flow!\n     On sandy pillow\n     Bedded low,\n   'Neath Sarpedon's breezy brow,[f20]\n   With the shifting sands shift thou!\n\n HERALD.\n Scream--rend your robes in rags!--call on the gods!\n The Egyptian bark thou shalt not overleap.\n Pour ye the bitter bootless wail at will!\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n     With fierce heart swelling\n      To work my woe,\n     With keen hate yelling\n      Barks the foe.\n     Broad Nile welling\n      O'er thee flow!\n     Find thy dwelling\n      Bedded low,\n   'Neath the towering Libyan waters,\n   Towering thou 'gainst Libya's daughters!\n\n HERALD.\n To the ships! to the ships! the swift ships even-oared!\n Quickly! no laggard shifts! the hand that drags thee\n Will lord it o'er thy locks, not gently handled!\n\n STROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n      O father, oh!\n      From the altar\n      The assaulter\n     Drags me to my woe!\n   Step by step, a torturing guider,\n   Like the slowly-dragging spider,\n {247}\n      Cruel-minded so!\n      Like a dream,\n      A dusky dream,\n     My hope away doth go!\n      O Earth, O Earth,\n      From death redeem!\n     O Earth, O Jove deliver!\n\n HERALD.\n Your Argive gods I know not; they nor nursed\n My infant life, nor reared my riper age.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n      O father, oh!\n      From the altar\n      The assaulter\n     Drags me to my woe!\n   A snake two-footed fiercely fretted\n   Swells beside me! from his whetted\n     Fangs, black death doth flow!\n      Like a dream,\n      A dusky dream,\n     My hope is vanished so!\n      O Earth, O Earth,\n      From death redeem!\n     O Earth, O Jove deliver!\n\n HERALD.\n To the ships! to the ships! Obey! I say, obey!\n Pity thy robes, if not thy flesh--away!\n\n STROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n     Ye chiefs of the city,\n     By force they subdue me!\n\n HERALD.\n Well! I must drag thee by the hair! come! come!\n Point thy dull ears, and hear me!--come! come! come!\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n     I'm lost! I'm ruined!\n     O king, they undo me!\n\n HERALD.\n Thou shalt see kings enough anon, believe me,\n \u00c6gyptus' sons--kingless thou shalt not die.\n\n   [_Enter_ KING _with Attendants._\n\n KING.\n Fellow, what wouldst thou? With what purpose here\n Dost flout this land of brave Pelasgian men?\n Deem'st thou us women? A barbarian truly\n Art thou, if o'er the Greek to sport it thus\n {248}\n The fancy tempts thee. Nay, but thou art wrong\n Both root and branch in this.\n\n HERALD.\n                              How wrong? Speak plainly.\n\n KING.\n Thou art a stranger here, and dost not know\n As a stranger how to bear thee.\n\n HERALD.\n                                This I know,\n I lost my own, and what I lost I found.\n\n KING.\n Thy patrons[f21] who, on this Pelasgian ground?\n\n HERALD.\n To find stray goods the world all over, Hermes\n Is prince of patrons.[n53]\n\n KING.\n                      Hermes is a god,\n Thou, therefore, fear the gods.\n\n HERALD.\n                                And I do fear\n The gods of the Nile.\n\n KING.\n                      We too have gods in Argos.\n\n HERALD.\n So be it: but, in Argos or in Africk,\n My own's my own.\n\n KING.\n                 Who touches these reaps harm,\n And that right soon.\n\n HERALD.\n                     No friendly word thou speak'st,\n To welcome strangers.\n\n KING.\n                      Strangers are welcome here;\n But not to spoil the gods.\n\n HERALD.\n                           These words of thine\n To \u00c6gyptus' sons be spoken, not to me.\n\n KING.\n I take no counsel, or from them, or thee.\n\n HERALD.\n Thou--who art thou? for I must plainly make\n Rehearsal to my masters--this my office\n Enforces--both by whom, and why, unjustly\n I of this kindred company of women\n Am robbed. A serious strife it is; no bandying\n Of words from witnesses, no silver passed\n From hand to hand will lay such ugly strife;\n But man for man must fall, and noblest souls\n Must dash their lives away.\n\n KING.\n                            For what I am,\n You, and your shipmates, soon enough shall know me.\n These maids, if with the softly suasive word\n Thou canst prevail, are thine; to force we never\n Will yield the suppliant sisters; thus the people\n With one acclaim have voted; 'tis nailed down\n Thus to the letter. So it must remain.\n {249}\n Thou hast my answer, not in tablets graven,\n Or in the volumed scroll, all stamped and sealed,\n But from a free Greek mouth. Dost understand me?\n Hence quickly from my sight!\n\n HERALD.\n                             Of this be sure,\n A war thou stirrest, in which, when once begun,\n The males will be the stronger.\n\n KING.\n                                We, too, have males\n In Argos, lusty-blooded men, who drink\n Good wine, not brewed from barley.[f22] As for you,\n Ye virgins, fearless follow where these guides\n Shall lead. Our city strongly girt with wall,\n And high-reared tower receives you. We can boast\n Full many a stately mansion; stateliest piled\n My palace stands, work of no feeble hands.\n Right pleasant 'tis in populous floors to lodge\n With many a fellow-tenant: some will find\n A greater good in closely severed homes,\n That have no common gates: of these thou hast\n The ample choice: take what shall like thee most.\n Know me thy patron, and in all things know\n My citizens thy shield, whose vote hath pledged\n Thy safety; surer guarantee what wouldst thou?\n\n CHORUS.\n     Blessing for thy blessing given,\n     Flow to thee, divine Pelasgian!\n     But for our advisal forthwith\n     Send, we pray thee, for our father;\n     He the firm, the far foreseeing,\n     How to live, and where to lodge us,\n     Duly shall direct. For ever\n     Quick to note the faults of strangers\n     Sways the general tongue; though we\n     Hope all that's good and best from thee.\n\n KING.\n (_to the attendant maids_)\n     Likewise you, ye maids attendant\n     For his daughters' service, wisely\n     Portioned by the father, here\n      Be your home secure,\n     Far from idle-bruited babblings,\n      'Neath my wing to dwell!\n\n {250}\n\n   [_Enter_ DANAUS, _attended by an Argive guard._\n\n DANAUS.\n Daughters! if so the Olympian gods deserve\n Your sacrifices, your libations, surely\n Argos no less may claim them! Argos truly\n Your Saviour in worst need! With eager ears\n They drank my tale, indignant the foul deeds\n Of our fell-purposed cousinship they heard,\n And for my guard this goodly band they set me\n Of strong spear-bearing men, lest being slain\n By the lurking lance of some insidious foe\n My death bring shame to Argos. Such high honor,\n From hearts where kindness moves the friendly deed,\n They heaped the sire withal, that you, the daughters,\n In father's stead should own them. For the rest,\n To the chaste precepts graven on your heart\n That oft I gave, one timely warning add,\n That time, which proveth all, approve your lives\n Before this people; for 'gainst the stranger, calumny\n Flows deftly from the tongue, and cheap traducement\n Costs not a thought. I charge ye, therefore, daughters,\n Your age being such that turns the eyes of men\n To ready gaze, in all ye do consult\n Your father's honor: such ripe bloom as yours\n No careless watch demands: so fair a flower\n Wild beasts and men, monsters of all degrees,\n Winged and four-footed, wantonly will tear.\n Her luscious-dropping fruits the Cyprian[f23] hangs\n In the general view, and publishes their praise;[n54]\n That whoso passes, and beholds the pomp\n Of shapeliest beauty, feels the charmed dart\n That shoots from eye to eye, and vanquished falls\n By strong desire. Give, therefore, jealous heed\n That our long toils, and ploughing the deep sea\n Not fruitless fall; but be your portment such\n As breeds no shame to us, nor to our enemies\n Laughter. A double lodgment for our use,\n One from the state, the other from the king,\n Rentless we hold. All things look bright. This only,\n Your father's word, remember. More than life\n Hold a chaste heart in honor.\n\n CHORUS.\n                              The high Olympians\n Grant all thy wish! For us and our young bloom,\n {251}\n Fear nothing, father: for unless the gods\n Have forged new counsels, we ev'n to the end\n Will tread the trodden path, and will not bend.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.[n55]\n STROPHE I.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n     Lift ye the solemn hymn!\n     High let your p\u00e6ans brim!\n       Praise in your strain\n     Gods that in glory reign\n     High o'er the Argive plain,\n     High o'er each castled hold,\n     Where Erasinus old[f24]\n       Winds to the main!\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n (_to the attendant maids_)\n     Sing, happy maids, with me!\n     Loud with responsive glee\n       Voice ye the strain!\n     Praise ye the Argive shore,\n     Praise holy Nile no more,\n     Wide where his waters roar,\n       Mixed with the main!\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n     Lift ye the solemn hymn!\n     High let your p\u00e6ans brim!\n       Praise in your strain\n     Torrents that bravely swell\n     Fresh through each Argive dell,\n     Broad streams that lazily\n     Wander, and mazily\n       Fatten the plain.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n     Sing, sisters, sing with me\n     Artemis chaste! may she\n       List to the strain!\n     Never, O never may\n     Marriage with fearful sway\n     Bind me; nor I obey\n       Hatefullest chain!\n\n STROPHE II.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n     Yet, mighty praise be thine[n56]\n     Cyprian queen divine!\n     Hera, with thee I join,\n {252}\n       Nearest to Jove.\n     Subtly conceiving all,\n     Wiseliest weaving all,\n     Thy will achieving all\n       Nobly by love!\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n     With thee Desire doth go;\n     Peitho,[f25] with suasive flow\n     Bending the willing foe,\n       Marches with thee.\n     Lovely Harmonia[n57]\n     Knows thee; and, smote with awe,\n     Strong kings obey the law\n       Whispered by thee.\n\n STROPHE IV.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n     Yet must I fear the chase,[n58]\n     Sail spread in evil race,\n     War with a bloody pace\n       Spurred after me.\n     Why to this Argive shore\n     Came they with plashing oar,\n     If not with sorrow's store\n       Treasured for me?\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n     Comes fated good or ill,\n     Wait we in patience still!\n     No power may thwart his will\n       Jove, mighty Jove.\n     Laden with sorrow's store\n     Virgins in days of yore\n     Praised, when their grief was o'er,\n       Jove, mighty Jove.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n     Jove, mighty Jove, may he\n     From wedded force for me\n       Rescue prepare!\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n     Fair fall our maiden lot!\n     But mighty Jove may not\n       Yield to thy prayer.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n     Know'st thou what woes may be\n     Stored yet by Fate for me?\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n     Jove and his hidden plan\n     Sight of the sharpest man\n       Searcheth in vain;\n     Thou in thy narrow span\n       Wisely remain!\n\n {253}\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n     Wisely my thought may fare\n     Tell me, O tell me where?\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n     'Gainst what the gods ordain\n     Fret not thy heart in vain!\n\n STROPHE.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n     Save me, thou chief of gods, great Jove,\n     From violent bonds of hated love,\n     Even as the Inachian maid of yore\n     Thy hand set free from labour sore,\n     What time thou soothed with touch divine\n       Her weary frame,\n     And with a friendly force benign\n     Thy healing came.\n\n ANTISTROPHE.\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n     May the woman's cause prevail!\n     And, when two certain ills assail,\n     Be ours the less: and Justice fair\n     For the just shall still declare.\n     Ye mighty gods o'er human fates\n       Supremely swaying,\n     On you my prayer, my fortune waits,\n       Your will obeying.\n\n[The End]\n\n\n\nTHE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES\n\n{255}\n\nA LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE\n\n I cannot think but curses climb the sky,\n And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.\n                                SHAKESPERE.\n\n Alle Schuld r\u00e4cht sich auf Erden.\n                        GOETHE.\n\n\n\nPERSONS\n\n{256}\n\n ETEOCLES, Son of Oedipus.\n MESSENGER.\n CHORUS OF THEBAN VIRGINS.\n ISMENE and ANTIGONE, Sisters of Eteocles.\n HERALD.\n\nSCENE--_The Acropolis of Thebes._\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY REMARKS\n\n{257}\n\nONE of the most indisputable laws of the moral world, and, when\nseriously considered, perhaps the most awful one, is that principle of\nhereditary dependence, which connects the sins of one generation, and\noften of one individual, by an indissoluble bond, with the fortunes of\nanother. In the closely compacted machinery of the moral world no man\ncan be ignorant, or foolish, or vicious to himself. The most isolated\nindividual by the very act of his existence, as he necessarily inhales,\nso he likewise exhales, a social atmosphere, either healthy so far, or\nso far unhealthy, for the race. Nothing in the world is independent\neither of what co-exists with it, or of what precedes it. The present,\nin particular, is everywhere at once the child of the past, and the\nparent of the future. It is no doubt true that a foolish father does not\nalways beget a foolish son. There are counteracting influences\nconstantly at work to prevent the fatal tendency to degeneration, of\nwhich Horace speaks so feelingly--\n\n  Aetas parentum pejor avis tulit\n  Nos nequiores, mox daturos\n  Progeniem vitiosiorem,\n\nbut the \"Delicta majorum immeritus lues\" of the same poet remains a\nfearful reality in the daily administration of the world, which no\nserious-thinking man can afford to disregard. In the ancient law of\nMoses, as in the most famous systems of Christian theology, this\nprinciple plays a prominent part; and awful as its operation is, often\nsweeping whole generations into ruin, and smiting whole nations with a\nchronic leprosy, for the folly or extravagance of an ephemeral\nindividual, we shall not be surprised to find it equally conspicuous in\nthe literature of so subtle a people as the Greeks. The Hellenic mind,\nno doubt, was too sunny and too healthy to allow itself to be encased\nand imprisoned with this idea, as with an iron mail; but as a mysterious\ndark background of moral existence it was recognised in its highest\npower; and nowhere so distinctly, and with such terrible iteration, as\nin those lyrical exhibitions of solemn, religious, and legendary faith,\nwhich we call tragedy.\n\n{258}\n\nAmong the other serious ethico-religious legends with which the scanty\nremains of the rich Greek tragedy have made us more familiar, the dark\nfates of two famous families--the Pelopidae and the Labdacidae--force\nthemselves upon our attention with a marked distinctness. How the evil\ngenius (\u1f00\u03bb\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03c9\u03c1) of inherited guilt revealed itself in the\nblood-stained track of the descendants of Tantalus we have seen on the\nlarge scale of a complete trilogy; the play to which we now introduce\nthe reader is an exhibition of the same stern law of moral\nconcatenation, in one of the scenes of the dark story of the Theban\nfamily of the Labdacidae. Labdacus, the father of this unfortunate\nrace, is traced back in the legendary genealogy to the famous\nPh\u0153nician settler, Cadmus, being removed from him by only one\ngeneration.[f1] This head of the family appears tainted with no moral\nguilt of an extraordinary kind; but his son Laius figures in the\nlegend, not like Pelops in the Pelopidan story, as a murderer, but as\na licentious and a lustful character. Yielding to the violent impulses\nof unnatural passion,[f2] he is said to have carried off from Elis,\nChrysippus, the son of Pelops; whereupon the injured father pronounced\nagainst the unholy ravisher the appropriate curse that he should die\nchildless, or, if he did beget children, that himself should lose his\nlife by the hands of those to whom he had been the means of giving it.\nWe see here exemplified that grand principle of retaliation (_lex\ntalionis_), \"_An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth_,\" which\nstands out so prominently in the laws of Moses, and is so agreeable to\nthe moral instincts of the human heart. Laius was to perish by his own\nprogeny, because, in the irregular gratification of the procreative\ninstinct, he had sinned against Nature. The curse spoken against him\nby Pelops was the wrathful expression of one of Nature's greatest\nlaws; in whatever way we seek violently to obtain happiness contrary\nto the sober course of the divine arrangements, in that way we are\nsure with our own hands to work our own destruction. This is\ninevitable. Accordingly, that the direct sanction of the gods might be\nadded to the utterance of an aggrieved human heart, the legend\nrepresents the lustful offender as consulting the oracle of Delphi,\nwhether he might not with safety disregard the imprecation of Pelops,\nand beget children by his wife Iocaste (called Epicaste in Homer, Od.\nXI. 271); and receiving the ominous answer--\n\n  Sow not the seed of children, in despite\n  Of the gods: for if thou shalt beget a son,\n {259}\n  Him who begat shall the begotten slay,\n  And all thy house in bloody ruin perish.[f3]\n\nBut the divine oracle, as was to have been expected from the character\nof the questioner, was given in vain. Laius had consulted the oracle not\nthat he might know and obey the divine will, but that he might, if\npossible, escape from the terrible consequences of the curse of Pelops,\nand yet gratify his natural desire of having offspring. The result was\nnatural. In a moment of forgetfulness, induced by the free use of that\nmother of many evils, wine, he neglected the divine warning; and, from\nhis fatal embrace, a child was born, destined in the course of the\naccomplishment of the ancient curse, both to suffer many monstrous\nmisfortunes in his own person, and to transmit guilt and misery to\nanother generation. This child was Oedipus,[f4] so named from the\npiercing of his feet by nails, and subsequent exposure on Mount\nCithaeron, a device contrived by his father, in order to escape the\nfulfilment of the divine oracle. But it is not possible, as Homer\nfrequently inculcates, to deceive the mind of the gods. The helpless\ninfant, the child of destiny, is found (like Romulus), by some\nshepherds, and by them taken to Polybus king of Corinth. Here the\nfoundling is brought up as the son of that monarch; but, on one\noccasion, being taunted by some of his youthful comrades with the\nreproach that he is not really the son of Polybus, but a fatherless\nfoundling, he goes forth to the oracle of Delphi, and to the wide world,\nto clear up what had been more wisely left in the dark; and here his\ngod-sent misfortunes overtake him, and the evil genius of his father\ndrives the innocent son blindfold into inevitable woe. The Pythoness,\naccording to her wont, returned an answer more doubtful than the\nquestion. Oedipus was told not who his father was, but that a dark\ndestiny hung over him, to kill his father, and to commit incest with his\nmother. Knowing no parents but those whom he had left at Corinth, he\nproceeded on his wanderings, in a direction the opposite of that by\nwhich he had come; and, on the road between Delphi and Daulis,[f5]\nmet a person of consequence, with a charioteer and an attendant, in a\ncar. The charioteer immediately ordered the foot traveller, somewhat\ninsolently, after the manner of aristocratic satellites, to get out of\nthe way; which rudeness the hot youth resenting, a scuffle ensued, in\nwhich the charioteer {260} and his master were slain, while the\nattendant fled. The murdered prince was Laius; and Oedipus, unwittingly,\nnay, doing everything he could to elude the fate, had slain his own\nfather. But the ancient Fury, for a season, concealed her vengeance, and\nallowed a brief glory to be shed round her victim, that he might\nthereafter be plunged in more terrible darkness. The Sphynx, a monstrous\ncreature, of Egyptian birth, half virgin, half lion, had been sent by\nwrathful Mars, to desolate the Theban country, devouring, with her\nbloody jaws, whosoever could not solve her famous riddle. When\ndepopulation proceeded at a fearful rate from this cause, the Thebans\npromised Iocaste, the widow of Laius, and queen of the country, in\nmarriage, to him who should succeed in explaining the enigma. Oedipus\nwas successful; and, becoming king of Thebes, was married, in ignorance,\nto his own mother. Thus the net of destiny was drawn closer and closer\nround its victim; but the hour of doom was not yet come. Joined in this\nunnatural wedlock, the unfortunate son of Laius became the father of two\nsons, Eteocles and Polynices, and of two daughters, Antigone and Ismene.\nCircumstances (which Sophocles narrates in his Oedipus Tyrannus)\nafterwards bringing the story of Oedipus' life and the nature of his\nconnection with Iocaste to light, the unfortunate old king looking upon\nhimself as an object of hatred to the gods, and unworthy to look upon\nthe day, tore out his eyes, and was confined by his sons--whether from\ncruelty or superstition--in a separate house, and treated otherwise in a\nmanner that appeared to him disrespectful and unkind.[f6] Enraged\nat this treatment, he pronounced an imprecation against them, that they\nshould one day DIVIDE THEIR INHERITED LAND BY STEEL; whereupon they,\nto render any hostile collision impossible, made an agreement to\nexercise kingly authority over the whole Theban territory, each for a\nyear at a time, while the other should leave the country. Eteocles, as\nthe elder, reigned first; but when the appointed term came round, like\nother holders of power, he showed himself loath to quit; and Polynices,\nfleeing to Argos, sought assistance from Adrastus, king of that country.\nThis prince, along with the \u00c6tolian Tydeus, the father of Diomede, and\nother chiefs, marched against Thebes with a great armament, in order to\nforce Eteocles to yield the yearly tenure of the throne to his brother,\naccording to agreement. The appearance of this armament before the gates\nof the Cadmean city, and its sad issue, in the death, by their own {261}\nhands, of the two hostile brothers, form the subject of the present\nplay.\n\nFrom this rapid sketch, the reader will see plainly that the dismal\nstory of Laius and Oedipus, and his children, affords materials for a\nwhole series of tragedies; and that, in fact, \"THE SEVEN AGAINST\nTHEBES\" is only one of the last acts of a great consecutive legendary\nhistory, of which each part is necessary to explain the other. This\nclose connection of the subjects naturally suggests the question,\nwhether our play, as we now have it, stood alone in dramatic\nrepresentation, or whether it was not only a subordinate part of a large\ndramatic whole. We know for certain that \u00c6schylus wrote at least four\nplays, besides the present, of which the materials were taken from the\ncycle of this Theban legend--namely, LAIUS, OEDIPUS, THE SPHYNX, and the\nELEUSINIANS;[f7] and it has been not unplausibly conjectured that some\nof his other plays, of which the names are preserved, belong to the same\nseries.[f8] In what precise connection, however, the existing play stood\nto any of the rest in actual representation, there were, till very\nrecently, no satisfactory means of judging; and accordingly no scanty\nwealth of erudite speculation (after the German fashion), made to look\nlike science, was spent upon the subject. Now, at length it has been\nannounced, that the \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03af\u03b1, containing the actual order of\nrepresentation of four of these plays, has been discovered;[f9] and, if\nthe document be genuine, we are enabled to assert that, in the 78th\nOlympiad, \u00c6schylus gained the tragic prize with the tetralogy, of\nLAIUS, OEDIPUS, THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES, and the SPHYNX, a satiric\ndrama.\n\nWith regard to the merits of the present piece, while its structure\nexhibits, in the most striking manner, the deficient skill of the early\ndramatists, its spirit is everywhere manly and noble, and instinct with\nthe soul of the warlike actions which it describes. The best parts are\nepic, not dramatic--namely, those in which the Messenger describes the\ndifferent characters and appearance of the seven chiefs posted each at a\nseparate gate of the Cadmean city. The drama concludes with a Theban\ncoronach or wail over the dead bodies of the self-slain brothers; for\nthe proper relishing of which, the imaginative reproduction of some\nappropriate music is indispensable. The introduction after this of the\nHerald, announcing the decree of the Theban senate, whereby burial is\ndenied to the body of Polynices, {262} and the heroic display of\nsisterly affection on the part of Antigone, are--if this really was the\nlast piece of a trilogy--altogether foreign both to the action and to\nthe tone of the tragedy, and must be regarded as a blunder. If Schiller,\nand even Shakespere, on occasions, could err in such matters, much more\n\u00c6schylus.\n\n\n\nTHE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES\n\n{263}\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Ye citizens of Cadmus! he who sits\n Holding the helm in the high poop of state,\n Watchful, with sleepless eyes, must, when he speaks,\n Speak words that suit the time. If we succeed,\n The gods will have the praise; but should we fail\n (Which may averting Jove from me avert,[n1]\n And from this Theban city!), I alone\n Must bear the up-heaped murmurings of the whole,\n A motley-voiced lament. Ye men of Thebes,\n Not manhood's vigour only, but ye also\n Who lack ripe years, and ye whose green old age\n Nurses unwithered strength,[f10] arm, and redeem\n Your country's honor from a cruel blot.\n Let not the citadel of your ancient sires,\n The altars of your native gods, your children,\n Nor the dear mother Earth, that nursed you, blame\n The slackness of your love--the nurse who bore\n Your creeping childhood on her fostering soil,\n And through your slow growth up to firmer years,\n Toiled that the strong arms of her faithful sons,\n Might shield her need. Up to this hour the god\n Inclines to us; though close hedged in by the foe,\n The vantage hath been ours. But now the seer,\n The shepherd of prophetic birds' revolving\n In his ear and inward sense deep-pondered truths,[n2]\n By no false art, though without help from fire,\n Even he soothsaying sings that the Argive camp\n Holds midnight council to attack the city.\n Therefore be ready; mount the battlements;\n Top every tower; crown every parapet;\n Fence every gate with valiant-hearted men,\n Well harnessed for the fight: and never fear\n This trooping alien foe. The gods will give\n A happy issue. Myself have sent out scouts,\n Sure men, not wont to linger. Their advice\n Shall shield us from surprise.\n\n {264}\n\n   [_Enter_ MESSENGER.\n\n MESSENGER.\n                               Eteocles,\n Most excellent lord of Thebes! what I have seen\n With mine own eyes, no idle unvouched tale,\n I bring thee from the camp. Seven warlike chiefs\n I saw, in solemn sacrifice assembled:\n Holding the head of the devoted ox,\n Over the shield with iron rimmed they dipped\n Their hands in the steaming blood, and swore an oath,\n By Mars, En\u00fdo, and blood-loving Terror,[n3]\n Either to raze the walls of Thebes, and plunder\n The citadel of Cadmus, or else drench\n This soil with Argive blood. Then, as for death\n Prepared, they decked the chariot of Adrastus[n4]\n With choice love-tokens to their Argive kin,\n Dropping a tear, but with their mouths they gave\n No voice. An iron-hearted band are they,\n Breathing hot war, like lions when their eye\n Looks instant battle. Such my news; nor I\n Slow to report; for in the camp I left them\n Eager to share among their several bands\n Our gates by lot. Therefore, bestir thee; fence\n Each gate with the choicest men: dash all delay;\n For now the Argive host, near and more near,\n All panoplied comes on; the dark-wreathed dust\n Rolls, and the snowy foam of snorting chargers\n Stains the pure Theban soil. Like a wise pilot\n That scents the coming gale, hold thou the city\n Tight, ere the storm of Ares on our heads\n Burst pitiless. Loud the mainland wave is roaring.\n This charge be thine: myself, a sleepless spy,\n Will bring thee sure word from the hostile camp:\n Safe from without, so ye be strong within. [_Exit._\n\n ETEOCLES.\n O Jove! O Earth! O Gods that keep the city!\n And thou fell Fury of my father's curse![f11]\n Destroy not utterly this Cadm\u00e9an seat\n Rent, razed, deracinated by the foe!\n Yield not our pious hearths, where the loved speech\n Of Hellas echoes, to a stranger host!\n Let not the free-born Theban bend the neck,\n To slavery thralled, beneath a tyrant's yoke!\n Be ye our strength! our common cause we plead;\n A prosperous state hath cause to bless the gods. [_Exit._\n\n {265}\n\n I.\n _The_ CHORUS[n5] _enter the scene in great hurry and agitation._\n\n O wailing and sorrow, O wailing and woe!\n Their tents they have left, many-banded they ride,\n And onward they tramp with the prance of pride,\n     The horsemen of the foe.\n The dark-volumed dust-cloud that rides on the gale,\n Though voiceless, declares a true messenger's tale;\n With clattering hoofs, on and on still they ride;[n6]\n It swells on my ear, loud it rusheth and roareth,\n As a fierce wintry torrent precipitous poureth,\n Rapidly lashing the mountain side.\n\n Hear me ye gods, and ye goddesses hear me!\n The black harm prevent that swells near and more near me!\n As a wave on the shore when the blast beats the coast,\n So breaks o'er the walls, from the white-shielded host,[n7]\n The eager war-cry, the sharp cry of fear,\n As near still it rolls, and more near.\n\n II.\n _The_ CHORUS _become more and more agitated. They speak one to another in\n short hurried exclamations, and in great confusion._\n\n CHORUS 1.\n To which of the gods and the goddesses now\n Shall I pay my vow?\n\n CHORUS 2.\n Shall I cling to the altar, and kneeling embrace\n The guardian gods of the Theban race?\n\n TUTTI.\n Ye blissful Olympians, throned sublime,\n In the hour of need, in the urgent time,\n    May the deep drawn sigh,\n    And the heart's strong cry\n Ascend not in vain to your seats sublime!\n\n CHORUS 1.\n Heard ye the shields rattle, heard ye the spear?\n    In this dark day of dole,\n    With chaplet and stole[n8]\n Let us march to the temples, and worship in fear!\n\n CHORUS 2.\n I heard the shield's rattle, and spear clashed on spear\n Came stunning my ear.\n\n TUTTI.\n O Ares, that shines in the helmet of gold,[n9]\n Thine own chosen city wilt thou behold\n    To slavery sold?\n O Ares, Ares, wilt thou betray\n   Thy Theban home to-day?\n\n {266}\n\n III.\n _The_ CHORUS _crown the altars of the gods, and then, falling on their\n knees, sing the following Theban Litany, in one continuous chaunt._\n\n     Patron gods that keep the city,\n     Look, look down upon our woe,\n     Save this band of suppliant virgins\n     From the harsh-enslaving foe!\n     For a rush of high-plumed warriors\n     Round the city of the free,\n     By the blast of Ares driven,\n     Roars, like billows of the sea.\n     Father Jove the consummator,[f12]\n     Save us from the Argive spear;\n     For their bristling ranks enclose us,\n     And our hearts do quake with fear,\n     And their steeds with ringing bridles[n10]\n     Knell destruction o'er the land;\n     And seven chiefs, with lance in hand,\n     Fixed by lot to share the slaughter,\n     At the seventh gate proudly stand.\n     Save us, Pallas, war-delighting\n     Daughter of immortal Jove!\n     Save us, lord of billowy ocean!\n     God of pawing steeds, Poseidon,[n11]\n     Join thine aid to his above,\n     And with thy fish-piercing trident\n     Still our hearts, our fears remove.\n     Save us Ares! father Ares,\n     Father now thy children's need!\n     Save us Cypris, mother of Thebans,[n12]\n     For we are thy blood indeed!\n     Save us, save us, Wolf-Apollo,[n13]\n     Be a wolf against the foe!\n     Whet thine arrows, born of Leto,\n     Leto's daughter bend thy bow!\n\n IV.\n _The Litany is here interrupted by the noise of the besiegers storming\n the city, and is continued in a hurried irregular manner._\n\n CHORUS 1.\n I hear the dread roll of the chariots of war!\n\n TUTTI.\n O holy Hera!\n\n {267}\n\n CHORUS 2.\n And the axles harsh-creaking with dissonant jar!\n\n TUTTI.\n O Artemis dear!\n\n CHORUS 1.\n And the vext air is madded with quick-brandished spears.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n To Thebes, our loved city, what hope now appears?\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n And when shall the gods bring an end of our fears?\n\n CHORUS 1.\n Hark! hark! stony hail the near rampart is lashing!\n\n TUTTI.\n O blest Apollo!\n\n CHORUS 2.\n And iron-bound shield against shield is clashing!\n\n TUTTI.\n The issue of war with the gods abideth,\n The doubtful struggle great Jove decideth.\n O Onca, blest Onca,[n14] whose worshippers ever\n Invoke thee, the queen of the Oncan gate,\n The seven-gated city deliver, deliver,[n15]\n Thou guardian queen of the gate.\n\n V.\n _The_ CHORUS _unite again into a full band, and sing the Finale of\n the Litany in regular Strophe and Antistrophe._\n\n STROPHE.\n     Gods and goddesses almighty!\n     Earthly and celestial powers!\n     Of all good things consummators,\n     Guardians of the Theban towers!\n     Save the spear-encompassed city\n     From a foreign-speaking foe![n16]\n     Hear the virgin band, that prays thee\n     With the out-stretched arms of woe!\n\n ANTISTROPHE.\n     Gods and demigods! the city\n     Aid that on your aid depends,\n     Watch around us, and defend us;\n     He is strong whom God defends.\n     Bear the incense in remembrance\n     Of our public sacrifice;\n     From a people rich in offerings\n     Let no prayer unanswered rise!\n\n   [_Re-enter_ ETEOCLES.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Answer me this, insufferable brood!\n Is this your wisdom, this your safety-note\n {268}\n To Theban soldiers, this your war-cry, thus\n In prostrate woe clasping the guardian gods,\n To scream and wail the vain lament of fools?\n I pray the gods, in good or evil days,\n May never fate be mine to lodge with women.\n When fortune's brave, their pride's unbearable;\n But, comes a thought of fear, both hall and forum\n Must ring with their laments. Why run ye thus\n From street to street, into the hearts of men\n Scattering dastardy, and bruiting fear?\n Nay, but ye chiefly help the enemy's cause\n Without the gate, and we by friends within\n Are more besieged; such aid expect from women!\n Thebans give ear; whoso shall disobey\n My word in Thebes, man, woman, old, or young,\n Whoe'er he be, against himself he writes\n Black sentence to be stoned by the public hand.\n Without the gates let brave men fight; within\n Let women tend their children, and their webs.\n Hear ye, or hear ye not? or do I speak\n To the deaf?\n\n STROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n     Son of Oedipus be witness!\n     Should not terror rob our wits,\n     When we hear the roll of chariots,\n     Whirling wheels, and creaking axles,\n     And the unresting tramp of horses\n     Champing fierce their fire-forged bits?\n\n ETEOCLES.\n What then? when with the storm the good ship labours,\n Shall the wise helmsman leave his proper post,\n To clasp the painted gods upon the prow?[n17]\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n     When we heard war's rattling hail-drift\n     Round our ramparts wildly rave,\n     Trusting to the gods of Cadmus,\n     Spurred by fear, we hither hurried,\n     Here to pray, and clasp the statues\n     Of the good gods strong to save.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Pray that our well-manned walls be strong to save us,\n Else will the gods help little. Who knows not\n That, when a city falls, they pass to the Victor?[n18]\n\n {269}\n\n STROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n     Never, never may the council\n     Of the assembled gods desert us,\n     While I live, and look on day!\n     Never, never may the stranger\n     Rush through the streets, while midnight burning\n     Lights the robber to his prey!\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Weak prayers confound wise counsel. Know ye not\n Obedience is the mother of success,\n And pledge of victory. So the wise have spoken.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n     But the gods are strong. When mortals\n     Stretch the arm in vain to save us,\n     Help is waiting from above.\n     When dark night enveils the welkin,\n     And thick-mantled ruin gathers,\n     They enclasp us round with love.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Leave sacrifice and oracles to men,\n And 'gainst the imminent foe pray to the gods.\n Women should hold their tongues, and keep their homes.\n\n STROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n     By the strength of gods the city\n     Each rude tide hath learnt to stem;\n     Who shall charge us with offending,\n     When we make our vows to them?\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Your vows I grudge not, nor would stint your prayers;\n But this I say, blow not your fears about,\n Nor taint the general heart with apprehension.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n     Startled by the blare of battle,\n     Hearing clash of combat fell,\n     With a quaking heart I hied me\n     To this sacred citadel.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n And when ye hear that some are dead or wounded,\n Drag not the news with wailings through the town;\n For blood of mortals is the common food[n19]\n Of the war god.\n\n CHORUS.\n                Hark! the angry steeds are snorting.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Hear what thou wilt; but do not hear aloud.\n\n CHORUS.\n The Earth beneath me groans, the wall is shaking.\n\n {270}\n\n ETEOCLES.\n The walls are mine to uphold. Pray you, be silent.\n\n CHORUS.\n Woe's me, the clash of arms, loud and more loud,\n Rings at the gate!\n\n ETEOCLES.\n                   And thou the loudest!--Peace!\n\n CHORUS.\n Great council of the gods, O save us! save us!\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Perdition seize thee! thy words flow like water.\n\n CHORUS.\n O patron gods, save me from captive chains!\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Thy fear makes captive me, and thee, and all.\n\n CHORUS.\n O mighty Jove, fix with thy dart the foe!\n\n ETEOCLES.\n O Jove, of what strange stuff hast thou made women!\n\n CHORUS.\n Men are no better, when their city's captured.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Dost clasp the gods again, and scream and howl?\n\n CHORUS.\n Fear hurries on my overmastered tongue.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n One small request I have; beseech you hear me.\n\n CHORUS.\n Speak: I am willing, if I can, to please thee.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Please me by silence; do not fright thy friends.\n\n CHORUS.\n I speak no more: and wait my doom with them.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n This word is wiser than a host of wails.\n And now, instead of running to and fro,\n Clinging to every image as you pass,\n Pray to the gods with sober supplication,\n To aid the Theban cause: and, when ye hear\n My vow, lift up a blithe auspicious shout,\n A sacred hymn, a sacrificial cry,\n As brave Greek hearts are wont, whose voice shall speak\n Sure confidence to friends, and to the foe\n Dismay. Now, hear my vow. If they who keep\n The city, keep it now from the Argive spear,\n I vow to them, and to the patron gods\n Of field and forum, and the holy fount\n Of Dirce and Ismenus' sacred stream,[n20]\n That blood of lambs and bulls shall wash their altars,\n And spear-pierced trophies, Argive harnesses,\n Bedeck their holy halls. Such be your prayers;\n Not sighs and sobs, and frantic screams, that shake\n The hearts of men, but not the will of gods.\n Meanwhile, with six choice men, myself the seventh,\n I'll gallantly oppose these boastful chiefs\n That block our outlets. Timely thus I'll gag\n The swift-winged rush of various-bruited news,\n That in the hour of danger blazes fear. [_Exit._\n\n {271}\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n     Well thou speakest; but unsleeping\n     Terrors shake my virgin frame,\n     And the blasts of war around me\n     Fan my fears into a flame.\n     As the dove her dovelets nursing,\n     Fears the tree-encircling serpent,\n     Fatal neighbour of her nest;\n     Thus the foe, our walls enclosing,\n     Thrills with ceaseless fears my breast.\n     Hark I in hurrying throngs careering\n     Rude they beat our Theban towers,\n     And a rain of rock-torn fragments\n     On the roofs of Cadmus showers!\n     Save us, gods that keep the city,\n     Save us, Jove-begotten Powers!\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n     Say what region shall receive ye,\n     When the Theban soil is waste?\n     When pure Dirce's fount is troubled,\n     From what waters shall ye taste?\n     Theban soil, the deepest, richest,\n     That with fruits of joy is pregnant,\n     Dirce, sweetest fount that runs,\n     From Poseidon earth-embracing,\n     And from Tethys' winding sons.[n21]\n     Patron-gods maintain your glory,\n     Sit in might enthroned to-day:\n     Smite the foe with fear; fear stricken\n     Let them fling their arms away:\n     Hear our sharp shrill-piercing wailings,\n     When for Cadmus' weal we pray!\n\n STROPHE II.\n     Sad it were, and food for weeping,\n     To behold these walls Ogygian,\n     By the stranger spearman mounted,\n     Levelled by the Argive foe,\n     And these towers by god-sent vengeance\n     Laid in crumbling ashes low.\n     Sad it were to see the daughters,\n {272}\n     And the sonless mothers grey,\n     Of old Thebes, with hair dishevelled,\n     And rent vestments, even as horses\n     Dragged by the mane, a helpless prey;\n     Sad to hear the victors' clamour\n     Mingling with the captive's moan,\n     And the frequent-clanking fetter\n     Struggling with the dying groan.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n     Sad, most sad, should hands unlicensed\n     Rudely pluck our opening blossom;\n     Sad--yea better far to die!\n     Changing nuptial torch and chamber\n     For dark homes of slavery.\n     Ah! my soul within me trembles,\n     When it shapes the sight of shame,\n     Swift the chase of lawless murder,\n     And the swifter chase of flame;\n     Black the surly smoke upwreathing,\n     Cries, confusion, choking heat;\n     Shrine-polluting, man-subduing\n     Mars, wild borne from street to street!\n\n STROPHE III.\n     Towers and catapults surrounding,\n     And the greedy spear upswallowing\n     Man by man, its gory food:\n     And the sucking infants clinging\n     To the breasts that cannot bear them,\n     Cries to ears that cannot hear them\n     Mingle with their mother's blood.\n     Plunder, daughter of Confusion,\n     Startles Plenty from his lair,\n     And the robber with the robber\n     Bargains for an equal share;\n     Gods! in such a night of terrors\n     How shall helpless maidens fare?\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n     Planless is the strife of Plunder.\n     Fruits of patient years are trampled\n     Reckless in the moment's grave;\n     And the maids that tend the household,\n {273}\n     With a bitter eye of weeping,\n     See the treasured store of summers\n     Hurried by the barren wave.\n     Woe, deep woe, waits captive maidens,\n     To an untried thraldom led,\n     Bound, by chains of forced affection,\n     To some haughty husband's bed:\n     Sooner, sooner may I wander\n     Sister of the sunless dead!\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n Methinks I see the scout sent by the king:\n Doubtless he brings us news; his tripping feet\n Come swift as wheels that turn on willing axles.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n The king himself, the son of Oedipus,\n Comes in the exact nick to hear his tidings:\n With rapid and unequal steps he too\n Urges the way.\n\n   [_Enter_ MESSENGER _and_ ETEOCLES _from opposite sides._\n\n MESSENGER.\n               What I have seen I come\n To tell; the movements of the foe, the station\n That lot hath given each champion at the gates.\n First at the Pr\u0153tian portal Tydeus stands,[n22]\n Storming against the seer, who wise forbids\n To pass Ismenus' wave, before the sacrifice\n Auspicious smiles. But he, for battle burning,\n Fumes like a fretful snake in the sultry noon,\n Lashing with gibes the wise Oiclidan seer,[n23]\n Whose prudence he interprets dastardy,\n Cajoling death away. Thus fierce he raves,\n And shakes the overshadowing crest sublime,\n His helmet's triple mane, while 'neath his shield\n The brazen bells ring fear.[n24] On his shield's face\n A sign he bears as haughty as himself,\n The welkin flaming with a thousand lights,\n And in its centre the full moon shines forth,\n Eye of the night, and regent of the stars.\n So speaks his vaunting shield: on the stream's bank\n He stands, loud-roaring, eager for the fight,\n As some fierce steed that frets against the bit,\n And waits with ruffling neck, and ears erect,\n To catch the trumpet's blare. Who will oppose\n This man? what champion, when the bolts are broken,\n Shall plant his body in the Pr\u0153tian gate?\n\n {274}\n\n ETEOCLES.\n No blows I fear from the trim dress of war,\n No wounds from blazoned terrors. Triple crests\n And ringing bells bite not without the spear;\n And for this braggart shield, with starry night\n Studded, too soon for the fool's wit that owns it\n The scutcheon may prove seer. When death's dark night\n Shall settle on his eyes, and the blithe day\n Beams joy on him no more, hath not the shield\n Spoken significant, and pictured borne\n A boast against its bearer? I, to match\n This Tydeus, will set forth the son of Astacus,\n A noble youth not rich in boasts, who bows\n Before the sacred throne of Modesty,\n In base things cowardly, in high virtue bold.\n His race from those whom Ares spared he draws,[n25]\n Born from the sown field of the dragon's teeth,\n His name Melanippus. Mars shall throw the dice\n Bravely for him, and Justice call him brother,\n While girt he goes from his loved Theban mother\n To ward the Argive spear.\n\n STROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n     May the gods protect our champion!\n     Be the cause of Right his shield!\n     But I fear to see the breathless\n     Bleeding bodies of true warriors\n     Strewn upon the battle field.\n\n MESSENGER.\n Speed well your pious prayers! The lot hath placed\n Proud Capaneus before the Electran gate,[n26]\n A giant warrior mightier than the first,\n And boasting more than mortal. His high threats\n May never Chance[f13] fulfil! for with the aid\n Of gods, or in the gods' despite, he vows\n To sack the city, and sets the bolted wrath\n Of Jove at nought, his lightnings and his thunders\n Recking no more--so speaks the vauntful tongue--\n Than vulgar noonday heat. His orb\u00e9d shield\n The blazon of a naked man displays,\n Shaking a flaring torch with lofty threat\n In golden letters--I WILL BURN THE CITY.\n Such is the man: who shall not quail before\n A pride that flings defiance to the gods?\n\n {275}\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Here, too, we meet the strong with something stronger.\n When men are proud beyond the mark of right,\n They do proclaim with forward tongue their folly,\n Themselves their own accuser. This brave Capaneus\n With empty threats and wordy exercise,\n Fights mortal 'gainst immortals, and upcasts\n Loud billowy boasts in Jove's high face. But I\n In Jove have faith that he will smite this boaster\n With flaming bolts, to vulgar heat of noon\n In no wise like. The gallant Polyphontus,\n A man of glowing heart, against this blusterer\n I'll send, himself a garrison to pledge\n Our safety, by the grace of Artemis,\n And the protecting gods. Name now the others.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n     Perish, with his boasts, the boaster,\n     By strong thunder prostrate laid!\n     Never, never may I see him\n     Into holy homes of virgins\n     Rushing, with his godless blade!\n\n MESSENGER.\n Hear more. The third lot to Eteocles\n Leapt from the upturned brazen helm,[n27] and fixed him\n At the Netaean gate.[n28] His eager steeds,\n Their frontlets tossed in the breeze, their swelling nostrils\n High-snorting with the impatient blast of war,\n Their bridles flapping with barbaric clang,\n He curbs, and furious 'gainst the city wheels them,\n Even as a whirling storm. His breadth of shield,\n Superbly rounded, shows an armed man\n Scaling a city, with this proud device,\n NOT MARS HIMSELF SHALL HURL ME FROM THESE TOWERS.\n Choose thou a champion worthy to oppose\n This haughty chief, and pledge his country's weal.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Fear not: with happy omen, I will send,\n Have sent already, one to meet this foe,\n Whose boasts are deeds, brave Megareus, a son\n Of the dragon's race, a warrior recking nothing\n The snortings of impatient steeds. This man\n Will, with his heart's blood, pay the nursing fee\n Due to his Theban mother,[f14] or come back--\n Which grant the gods!--bearing on that proud shield\n {276}\n Rich spoil to garnish forth his father's halls,\n The painted champion, and the painted city,\n And him that living bore the false-faced sign.\n Now name the fourth, and spare me not your boasts.\n\n STROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n     May the gods protect my champion!\n     Ruin seize the ruthless foe!\n     As they boast to raze the city,\n     So may Jove with wrathful vengeance\n     Lay their frenzied babblings low!\n\n MESSENGER.\n The fourth's Hippomedon. Before the gate\n He stands of Onca Pallas, clamouring on\n With lordly port. His shield's huge round he waved,\n (Fearful to view), a halo not a shield.\n No vulgar cunning did his hand possess\n Who carved the dread device upon its face,\n Typhon, forth-belching, from fire-breathing mouth,\n Black smoke, the volumed sister of the flame;[n29]\n And round its hollow belly was embossed[n30]\n A ring of knotted snakes. Himself did rage,\n Shouting for battle, by the god of war\n Indwelt,[n31] and, like a Maenad, his dark eyes\n Look fear. Against this man be doubly armed,\n For, where he is, grim Fear is with him.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n                                         Onca\n Herself will guard the gate that bears her name,\n From her own ramparts hurl the proud assailer,\n And shield her nurslings from this crested snake.\n Hyperbius, the right valiant son of Oenops,\n Shall stand against this foe, casting his life\n Into the chance of war; in lordly port,\n In courage, in all the accoutrements of fight\n Hippomedon's counterpart--a hostile pair\n Well matched by Hermes.[n32] But no equal match\n Their shields display--two hostile gods--the one\n Fire-breathing Typhon, father Jove the other,\n Erect, firm-planted, in his flaming hand\n Grasping red thunder, an unvanquished god.\n Such are the gods beneath whose wing they fight,\n For us the strong, for them the weaker power.\n And as the gods are, so the men shall be\n That on their aid depend. If Jove hath worsted\n {277}\n This Typhon in the fight, we too shall worst\n Our adverse. Shall the king of gods not save\n The man whose shield doth bear the SAVIOUR JOVE.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n     Earth-born Typhon, hateful monster,\n     Sight that men and gods appals,\n     Whoso bears in godless blazon\n     Great Jove's foe, shall Jove almighty\n     Dash his head against the walls.\n\n MESSENGER.\n So grant the gods! The fifth proud foe is stationed\n Before the Borean gate, hard by the tomb\n Of the Jove-born Amphion. By his spear\n He swears, his spear more dear to him than gods,\n Or light of day, that he will sack the city\n In Jove's despite: thus speaks half-man, half-boy,\n The fair-faced scion of a mountain mother.\n The manly down, luxuriant, bushy, sprouts\n Full from his blooming cheek: no virgin he\n In aspect, though most virgin-like his name.[f15]\n Keen are his looks, and fierce his soul; he too\n Comes not without a boast against the gates;\n For on his shield, stout forgery of brass,\n A broad circumference of sure defence,\n He shows, in mockery of Cadm\u00e9an Thebes,\n The terrible Sphynx, in gory food delighting,\n Hugely embossed, with terror brightly studded,\n And in her mortal paw the monster rends\n A Theban man: for which reproachful sign\n Thick-showered the bearer bears the keenest darts,--\n Parthenop\u00e6us, bold Arcadian chief.\n No man seems he to shame the leagues he travelled\n By petty war's detail. Not born an Argive,\n In Argos nursed, he now her love repays,\n By fighting 'gainst her foes. His threats--the god\n Grant they be only threats!\n\n ETEOCLES.\n                            Did they receive\n What punishment their impious vaunts deserve,\n Ruin with one wide swoop should swamp them all.\n This braggart stripling, fresh from Arcady,\n The brother of Hyperbius shall confront,\n Actor, a man whose hand pursues its deed,\n {278}\n Not brandishing vain boasts. No enemy,\n Whose strength is in his tongue, shall sap these walls,\n While Actor has a spear: nor shall the man\n Who bears the hated portent on his shield\n Enter our gate, but rather the grim sign\n Frown on its bearer, when thick-rattling hail\n Showered from our walls shall dint it. If the gods\n Are just, the words I speak are prophecy.\n\n STROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n     The eager cry doth rend my breast,\n     And on end stands every hair,\n     When I hear the godless vaunting\n     Of unholy men! May At\u00e9\n     Fang them in her hopeless snare!\n\n MESSENGER.\n The sixth a sober man, a seer of might,\n Before the Homoloidian gate stands forth,[n33]\n And speaks harsh words against the might of Tydeus,\n Rating him murderer, teacher of all ill\n To Argos, troubler of the city's peace,\n The Furies' herald, crimson slaughter's minion,\n And councillor of folly to Adrastus.\n Thy brother too, the might of Polynices,\n He whips with keen reproaches, and upcasts\n With bitter taunts his evil-omened name,\n Making it spell his ugly sin that owns it.[n34]\n O fair and pious deed, even thus he cries,\n To blot thy native soil with war, and lead\n A foreign host against thy country's gods!\n Soothly a worthy deed, a pleasant tale\n For future years to tell! Most specious right,\n To stop the sacred fountain up whence sprung\n Thy traitor life! How canst thou hope to live\n A ruler well acknowledged in the land,\n That thou hast wounded with invading spear?\n Myself this foreign soil, on which I tread,\n Shall feed with prophet's blood. I hope to die,\n Since die I must, an undishonoured death.\n Thus spake the seer, and waved his full-orb'd shield\n Of solid brass, but plain, without device.\n Of substance studious, careless of the show,\n The wise man is what fools but seem to be,[n35]\n Reaping rich harvest from the mellow soil\n {279}\n Of quiet thought, the mother of great deeds.\n Choose thou a wise and virtuous man to meet\n The wise and virtuous. Whoso fears the gods\n Is fearful to oppose.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n                      Alas! the fate\n That mingles up the godless and the just\n In one companionship! wise was the man\n Who taught that evil converse is the worst\n Of evils, that death's unblest fruit is reaped\n By him who sows in At\u00e9's fields.[f16] The man\n Who, being godly, with ungodly men\n And hot-brained sailors mounts the brittle bark,\n He, when the god-detested crew goes down,\n Shall with the guilty guiltless perish. When\n One righteous man is common citizen\n With godless and unhospitable men,\n One god-sent scourge must smite the whole, one net\n Snare bad and good. Even so, O\u00efcleus' son,\n This sober, just, and good, and pious man,\n This mighty prophet and soothsayer, he,\n Leagued with the cause of bad and bold-mouthed men\n In his own despite--so Jove hath willed--shall lead\n Down to the distant city of the dead\n The murky march with them. He will not even\n Approach the walls, so I may justly judge.\n No dastard soul is his, no wavering will;\n But well he knows, if Loxias' words bear fruit,\n (And, when he speaks not true, the god is dumb)\n Amphiaraus dies by Theban spear.\n Yet to oppose this man I will dispatch\n The valiant Lasthenes, a Theban true,\n Who wastes no love on strangers; swift his eye,\n Nor slow his hand to make the eager spear\n Leap from behind the shield. The gods be with him!\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n     May the gods our just entreaties\n     For the cause of Cadmus hear!\n     Jove! when the sharp spear approaches,\n     Sit enthroned upon our rampires,\n     Darting bolts, and darting fear!\n\n {280}\n\n MESSENGER.\n Against the seventh gate the seventh chief\n Leads on the foe, thy brother Polynices;\n And fearful vows he makes, and fearful doom\n His prayers invoke. Mounted upon our walls,\n By herald's voice Thebes' rightful prince proclaimed,\n Shouting loud hymns of capture, hand to hand\n He vows to encounter thee, and either die\n Himself in killing thee, or should he live\n And spare thy recreant life, he will repay\n Like deed with like, and thou in turn shalt know\n Dishonouring exile. Thus he speaks and prays\n The family gods, and all the gods of Thebes,\n To aid his traitor suit. Upon his shield,\n New-forged, and nicely fitted to the hand,\n He bears this double blazonry--a woman\n Leading with sober pace an armed man\n All bossed in gold, and thus the superscription,\n \"I, JUSTICE, BRING THIS INJURED EXILE BACK,\n TO CLAIM HIS PORTION IN HIS FATHER'S HALL.\"\n Such are the strange inventions of the foe.\n Choose thou a man that's fit to meet thy brother;\n Nor blame thy servant: what he saw he says:\n To helm the state through such rude storm be thine!\n\n ETEOCLES.\n O god-detested! god-bemadded race![n36]\n Woe-worthy sons of woe-worn Oedipus!\n Your father's curse is ripe! but tears are vain,\n And weeping might but mother worser woe.\n O Polynices! thy prophetic name\n Speaks more than all the emblems of thy shield;\n Soon shall we see if gold-bossed words can save thee,\n Babbling vain madness in a proud device.\n If Jove-born Justice, maid divine, might be\n Of thoughts and deeds like thine participant,\n Thou mightst have hope; but, Polynices, never,\n Or when the darkness of the mother's womb\n Thou first didst leave, or in thy nursling prime,\n Or in thy bloom of youth, or in the gathering\n Of beard on manhood's chin, hath Justice owned thee,\n Or known thy name; and shall she know thee now\n Thou leadst a stranger host against thy country?\n Her nature were a mockery of her name\n If she could fight for knaves, and still be Justice.\n In this faith strong, this traitor I will meet\n {281}\n Myself: the cause is mine, and I will fight it.\n For equal prince to prince, to brother brother,\n Fell foe to foe, suits well. And now to arms!\n Bring me my spear and shield, hauberk and greaves!\n\n   [_Exit_ MESSENGER.\n\n CHORUS.\n Dear son of Oedipus! let not thy wrath\n Wax hot as his whom thou dost chiefly chide!\n Let the Cadm\u00e9ans with the Argives fight;\n This is enough: their blood may be atoned.\n But, when a brother falls by brother's hands,\n Age may not mellow such dark due of guilt.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n If thou canst bear an ill, and fear no shame,\n Bear it: but if to bear is to be base,\n Choose death, thy only refuge from disgrace.\n\n STROPHE IV.\n CHORUS.\n     Whither wouldst thou? calm thy bosom,\n      Tame the madness of thy blood;\n     Ere it bear a crimson blossom,\n      Pluck thy passion in the bud.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Fate urges on; the god will have it so.[n37]\n Now drift the race of Laius, with full sail,\n Abhorred by Ph\u0153bus, down Cocytus' stream!\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n CHORUS.\n     Let not ravening rage consume thee!\n      Bitter fruit thy wrath will bear;\n     Sate thy hunger with the thousands,\n      But of brother's blood beware!\n\n ETEOCLES.\n The Curse must work its will: and thus it speaks,\n Watching beside me with dry tearless eyes,\n _Death is thy only gain, and death to-day_\n _Is better than to-morrow!_[n38]\n\n STROPHE V.\n CHORUS.\n     Save thy life: the wise will praise thee;\n      To the gods with incense come,\n     And the storm-clad black Erinnys\n      Passes by thy holy home.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n The gods will reck the curse, but not the prayers\n Of Laius' race. Our doom is their delight.\n 'Tis now too late to fawn the Fate away.\n\n {282}\n\n ANTISTROPHE V.\n CHORUS.\n     Nay! but yet thou mayst: the god,\n      That long hath raged, and burneth now,\n     With a gentler sway soft-wafted,\n      Soon may fan thy fevered brow.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n The Curse must sway, my father's burning curse.\n The visions of the night were true, that showed me\n His heritage twin-portioned by the sword.\n\n CHORUS.\n We are but women: yet we pray thee hear us.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n Speak things that may be, and I'll hear. Be brief.\n\n CHORUS.\n Fight not before the seventh gate, we pray thee.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n My whetted will thy words may never blunt.\n\n CHORUS.\n Why rush on danger? Victory's sure without thee.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n So speak to slaves; a soldier may not hear thee.\n\n CHORUS.\n But brother's blood--pluck not the bloody blossom.\n\n ETEOCLES.\n If gods are just, he shall not 'scape from harm. [_Exit._\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n   I fear the house-destroying power; I fear\n     The goddess most ungodlike,[n39]\n     The all-truth-speaking seer\n   Of evil things, whose sleepless wrath doth nurse\n   Fulfilment of the frenzied father's curse.\n     The time doth darkly lower;\n   This strife of brother's blood with brother's blood\n       Spurs the dread hour.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n   O son of Scythia, must we ask thine aid?\n     Chalybian stranger thine,[n40]\n     Here with the keen unsparing blade\n   To part our fair possessions? thou dost deal\n   A bitter lot, O savage-minded steel!\n      Much loss is all the gain,\n   When mighty lords with their stark corpses measure\n       Their whole domain.\n\n STROPHE II.\n     When the slain shall slay the slayer,\n     And kindred blood with blood\n   Shall mingle, when the thirsty Theban soil\n   Drinks eager the black-clotting sanguine flood,\n {283}\n   Who then shall purge the murderous stain,\n     Who wash it clean again?\n   When ancient guilt and new shall burst,\n     In one dire flood of woe?\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n   With urgent pace the Fury treadeth,\n      To generations three\n   Avenging Laius' sin on Laius' race;\n   What time he sinned against the gods' decree,\n     When Ph\u0153bus from Earth's central shrine[f17]\n      Thrice sent the word divine--\n   LIVE CHILDLESS, LAIUS, FOR THY SEED\n     SHALL WORK THY COUNTRY'S WOE.\n\n STROPHE III.\n       But he to foolish words gave ear,\n       And ruin to himself begot,\n   The parricidal Oedipus, who joined\n   A frenzied bond in most unholy kind,\n   Sowing where he was sown; whence sprung a bud\n       Of bitterness and blood.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n       The city tosses to and fro,\n     Like a drifted ship; wave after wave,\n   Now high, now low, with triple-crested flow\n   Now reared sublime, brays round the plunging prow.\n   These walls are but a plank: if the kings fall\n       'Tis ruin to us all.\n\n STROPHE IV.\n   The ancestral curse, the hoary doom is ripe.\n     Who now shall smooth such hate?\n   What hand shall stay, when it hath willed to strike,\n     The uplifted arm of Fate?\n   When the ship creaks beneath the straining gale,\n   The wealthy merchant[f18] flings the well-stowed bale\n     Into the gulf below.[f19]\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n   When the enigma of the baleful Sphynx\n     By Oedipus was read,\n {284}\n   And the man-rending monster on a stone\n     Despairful dashed her head;\n   What mortal man by herd-possessing men,\n   What god by gods above was honoured then,\n     Like Oedipus below!\n\n STROPHE V.\n   But when his soul was conscious, and he saw\n   The monstrous wedlock made 'gainst Nature's law,\n       Him struck dismay,\n       In wild deray,\n  He from their socket roots uptore\n His eyes, more dear than children, worthy no more\n    To look upon the day.\n\n ANTISTROPHE V.\n And he, for sorry tendance wrathful,[n41] flung\n Curses against his sons with bitter tongue,\n     \"THEY SHALL DISPUTE\n      A DIRE DISPUTE,\n  AND SHARE THEIR LAND WITH STEEL.\" I fear\n The threatened harm; with boding heart I hear\n     The Fury's sleepless foot.\n\n   [_Re-enter_ MESSENGER.\n\n MESSENGER.\n Fear not, fair maids of Theban mothers nursed!\n The city hath 'scaped the yoke; the insolent boasts\n Of violent men hath fallen; the ship o' the state\n Is safe; in sunshine calm we float; in vain\n Hath wave on wave lashed our sure-jointed beams,\n No leaky gap our close-lipped timbers knew,\n Our champions with safety hedged us round,\n Our towers stand firm. Six of the seven gates\n Show all things prosperous; the seventh Ph\u0153bus\n Chose for his own (for still in four and three\n The god delights),[n42] he led the seventh pair,\n Crowning the doom of evil-counselled Laius.\n\n CHORUS.\n What sayst thou? What new ills to ancient Thebes?\n\n MESSENGER.\n Two men are dead--by mutual slaughter slain.\n\n CHORUS.\n Who?--what?--my wit doth crack with apprehension.\n\n MESSENGER.\n Hear soberly: the sons of Oedipus--\n\n CHORUS.\n O wretched me! true prophet of true woe.\n\n MESSENGER.\n Too true. They lie stretched in the dust.\n\n {285}\n\n CHORUS.\n                                          Sayst so?\n Sad tale! yet must I school mine ears to hear it.\n\n MESSENGER.\n Brother by brother's hand untimely slain.\n\n CHORUS.\n The impartial god smote equally the twain.\n\n MESSENGER.\n A wrathful god the luckless race destroys,\n And I for plaints no less than p\u00e6ans bring thee[n43]\n Plentiful food. The state now stands secure,\n But the twin rulers, with hard-hammered steel,\n Have sharply portioned all their heritage,\n By the dire curse to sheer destruction hurried.\n What land they sought they find it in the grave,\n The hostile kings in one red woe are brothered;\n The soil that called them lord hath drunk their blood.\n                                             [_Exit._\n\n CHORUS.\n    O Jove almighty! gods of Cadmus,\n    By whose keeping Thebes is strong,\n    Shall I sing a joyful p\u00e6an,\n    Thee the god full-throated hymning\n    That saved the state from instant harm?\n    Or shall drops of swelling pity\n    To a wail invert my ditty?\n    O wretched, hapless, childless princes!\n    Truly, truly was his name\n    Prophet of your mutual shame![f20]\n    Godless was the strife ye cherished,\n    And in godless strife ye perished!\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n     The curse that rides on sable wing,\n       Hath done its part,\n     And horror, like a creeping thing,\n       Freezes my heart.\n     Their ghastly death in kindred blood\n       Doth pierce me thorough,\n     And deeply stirs the Thyad flood[f21]\n       Of wail and sorrow.\n     An evil bird on boding wing\n       Did darkly sway,\n     When steel on steel did sternly ring\n       In strife to-day.\n\n {286}\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n     The voice that from the blind old king\n       With cursing came,\n     In rank fulfilment forth doth bring\n       Its fruit of shame.\n     O Laius, thou didst work our woe\n       With faithless heart;\n     Nor Ph\u0153bus with a half-dealt blow\n       Will now depart.\n     His word is sure, or pacing slow,\n       Or winged with speed,\n     And now the burthened cloud of woe,\n       Bursts black indeed.\n\n   [_The bodies of_ ETEOCLES _and_ POLYNICES _are brought on the stage._\n\n EPODE.\n    Lo! where it comes the murky pomp,\n    No wandering voice, but clear, too clear\n    The visible body of our fear!\n    Twin-faced sorrow, twin-faced slaughter,\n    And twin-fated woe is here.\n    Ills on ills of monstrous birth\n    Rush on Laius' god-doom'd-hearth.\n\n    Sisters raise the shrill lament,\n    Let your lifted arms be oars!\n    Let your sighs be breezes lent,\n    Down the wailing stream to float\n      The black-sail'd Stygian boat;\n    Down to the home which all receiveth,\n    Down to the land which no man leaveth,\n    By Apollo's foot untrodden,\n    Sullen, silent, sunless shores!\n\n    But I see the fair Ismene,\n    And Antigone the fair,\n    Moving to this place of mourning,\n    Slow, a sorrow-guided pair.\n    We shall see a sight for weeping\n    (They obey a doleful hest)\n    Lovely maids deep-bosomed pouring\n    Wails from heavy-laden breast.\n    Chaunts of sorrow, dismal prelude\n {287}\n    Of their grief, to us belong:\n    Let us hymn the dread Erinnys!\n    To the gloomy might of Hades,\n    Let us lift the sombre song.\n\n   [_Enter_ ANTIGONE _and_ ISMENE _in sorrowful silence._\n\n    Hapless sisters! maids more hapless\n      Ne'er were girded with a zone:\n    I weep, and wail, and mine, believe me,\n      Is a heart's sigh, no hireling moan.[f22]\n\n   [_Here commences the Funeral Wail over the dead bodies of_ ETEOCLES\n   _and_ POLYNICES _with mournful music._\n\n STROPHE I.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    Alas! alas! the hapless pair.\n    To friendly voice and warning Fate\n    They stopped the ear: and now too late\n    Dear bought with blood their father's wealth\n      In death they share.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    Outstretched in death, and prostrate low\n    Them and their house the iron Woe\n      Hath sternly crushed.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    Alas! alas! the old thrones reel,\n    The lofty palace topples down;\n    And Death hath won a bloody crown,\n    And thou sure end of strife hast made,\n      O keen cold steel!\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    And, with fulfilment on her wing,\n    Curse-laden from the blind old king\n      The Fury rushed.\n\n STROPHE II.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    Pierced through the left, with gaping gashes\n      Gory they lie.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    All gashed and gored, by fratricidal\n      Wounds they die.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    * * * *\n      * * * *\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    A god, a god doth rule the hour,\n    Slaughter meets slaughter, and the curse\n      Doth reign with power.\n\n {288}\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    See where the steel clean through hath cut\n      Their bleeding life,\n    Even to the marrow deep hath pierced\n      The ruthless knife.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    Deep in their silent hearts they cherished\n      The fateful curse,\n    And, with fell purpose sternly hating,\n      Defied remorse.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    From street to street shrill speeds the cry\n      Of wail and woe.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    And towers and peopled plains reply\n      With wail and woe.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    And all their wealth a stranger heir\n      Shall rightly share.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    The wealth that waked the deadly strife,\n    The strife that raged till rage and strife\n      Ceased with their life.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    With whetted heart, and whetted glaive,\n      They shared the lot;\n    Victor and vanquished each in the grave\n      Six feet hath got.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    A harsh allotment! who shall praise it,\n      Friend or foe?\n    Harsh strife in pride begun, and ending\n      In wail and woe.\n\n STROPHE III.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    Sword-stricken here they lie, they lie\n      A breathless pair.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    Sword-stricken here they find, they find\n      What home, and where?\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    A lonely home, a home of gloom\n      In their fathers' tomb.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    And wailing follows from the halls\n      The dismal bier;\n    Wailing and woe the heart-strings breaking,\n    And sorrow from its own self taking\n    The food it feeds on, moody sadness,\n    Shunning all sights and sounds of gladness,\n    And from the eye spontaneous bringing\n      No practised tear;\n {289}\n    My heart within me wastes, beholding\n      This dismal bier.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    And on the bier we drop the tear\n      And justly say,\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    To friend and foe, they purchased woe\n      And wail to-day.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    And to Hades showed full many the road\n      In the deadly fray.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    O ill-starred she!--there hath not been\n      Nor will be more,\n    Of sore-tried women children-bearing,\n    One like her, like sorrow sharing.\n    With her own body's fruit she joined\n    Wedlock in most unholy kind,\n    And to her son, twin sons the mother,\n      O monstrous! bore:\n    And here they lie, by brother brother\n      Now drenched in gore.\n\n STROPHE IV.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    Ay, drenched in gore, in brothered gore,[n44]\n      Weltering they lie;\n    Mad was the strife, and sharp the knife\n      That bade them die.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    The strife hath ceased: life's purple flood\n      The dry Earth drinks;\n    And kinsman's now to kinsman's blood\n      Keen slaughter links.\n    The far sea stranger forged i' the fire\n    The pointed iron soothed their ire.\n    A bitter soother! Mars hath made\n      A keen division\n    Of all their lands, and lent swift wing\n    To the curse that came from the blind old king\n      With harsh completion.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n SEMI-CHORUS 1.\n    They strove for land, and did demand\n      An equal share;\n    In the ground deep, deep, where now they sleep,\n      There's land to spare.\n\n {290}\n\n SEMI-CHORUS 2.\n    A goodly crop to you hath grown\n      Of woe and wailing;\n    Ye reaped the seed by Laius sown,\n      The god prevailing.\n    Shrill yelled the curse, a deathful shout,\n    And scattered sheer in hopeless rout\n    The kingly race did fall; and lo!\n      Fell At\u00e9 planteth\n    Her trophy at the gate; and there\n    Triumphant o'er the princely pair\n      Her banner flaunteth.\n\n   [ANTIGONE _and_ ISMENE _now come forward, and standing beside the dead\n   bodies, pointing now to the one, and now to the other, finish the Wail\n   as chief mourners._\n\n PRELUDE.\n ANTIGONE.\n    Wounded, thou didst wound again.\n\n ISMENE.\n    Thou didst slay, and yet wert slain.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Thou didst pierce him with the spear.\n\n ISMENE.\n    Deadly-pierced thou liest here.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Sons of sorrow!\n\n ISMENE.\n                   Sons of pain!\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Break out grief!\n\n ISMENE.\n                    Flow tears amain!\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Weep the slayer.\n\n ISMENE.\n                    And the slain.\n\n STROPHE.\n ANTIGONE.\n    Ah! my soul is mad with moaning.\n\n ISMENE.\n    And my heart within is groaning.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    O thrice-wretched, wretched brother!\n\n ISMENE.\n    Thou more wretched than the other!\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Thine own kindred pierced thee thorough.\n\n ISMENE.\n    And thy kin was pierced by thee.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Sight of sadness!\n\n ISMENE.\n                     Tale of sorrow!\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Deadly to say!\n\n ISMENE.\n                  Deadly to see!\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    We with you the sorrow bear.\n\n ISMENE.\n    And twin woes twin sisters share.\n\n CHORUS.\n    Alas! alas!\n    Moera, baneful gifts dispensing[n45]\n    To the toilsome race of mortals,\n {291}\n    Now prevails thy murky hour:\n    Shade of Oedipus thrice sacred,\n    Night-clad Fury, dread Erinnys,\n    Mighty, mighty is thy power!\n\n ANTISTROPHE.\n ANTIGONE.\n    Food to feed the eyes with mourning,\n\n ISMENE.\n    Exile sad, more sad returning!\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Slain wert thou, when thou hadst slain.\n\n ISMENE.\n    Found wert thou and lost again.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Lost, in sooth, beyond reprieving.\n\n ISMENE.\n    Life-bereft and life-bereaving.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Race of Laius, woe is thee!\n\n ISMENE.\n    Woe, and wail, and misery!\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Woe, woe, thy fatal name!\n\n ISMENE.\n    Prophet of our triple shame.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Deadly to say!\n\n ISMENE.\n                  Deadly to see!\n\n CHORUS.\n    Alas! alas!\n    Moera, baneful gifts dispensing\n    To the toilsome race of mortals,\n    Now prevails thy murky hour;\n    Shade of Oedipus thrice sacred,\n    Night-clad Fury, dread Erinnys,\n    Mighty, mighty is thy power.\n\n EPODE.\n ANTIGONE.\n    Thou hast marched a distant road.\n\n ISMENE.\n    Thou hast gone to the dark abode.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Cruel welcome met thee here.\n\n ISMENE.\n    Falling by thy brother's spear.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Deadly to say!\n\n ISMENE.\n                  Deadly to see!\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Woe and wailing.\n\n ISMENE.\n                    Wail and woe!\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    To my home and to my country.\n\n ISMENE.\n    And to me much wail and woe.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Chief woe to me!\n\n ISMENE.\n                    Weeping and woe!\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    Alas! Eteocles, laid thus low!\n\n ISMENE.\n    O thrice woe-worthy pair!\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    A god, a god, hath dealt the blow!\n\n ISMENE.\n    Where shall they find their clay-cold lair?\n\n {292}\n\n ANTIGONE.\n    An honoured place their bones shall keep.\n\n ISMENE.\n    With their fathers they shall sleep.\n\n   [_Enter_ HERALD.\n\n HERALD.\n Hear ye my words--my herald's voice declaring\n What seemed and seems good to the Theban senate.\n Eteocles, his country's friend, shall find\n Due burial in its friendly bosom.[n46] He\n Is free from sin against the gods of Cadmus,\n And died, the champion of his country's cause,\n As generous youths should die. Severer doom\n Falls on his brother Polynices. He\n Shall lie in the breeze unburied, food for dogs,\n Most fit bestowal of a traitor's corpse;\n For, had some god not stept between to save us,\n And turned the spear aside, Cadm\u00e9an Thebes\n Had stood no more. His country's gods demand\n Such stern atonement of the impious will\n That led a hireling host against their shrines.\n On him shall vultures banquet, ravening birds\n His flesh shall tear; no pious hand shall pile\n The fresh green mound, no wailing notes for him\n Be lifted shrill, no tearful friends attend\n His funeral march. Thus they who rule in Thebes\n Have strictly ordered.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n                       Go thou back, and give\n This message to the rulers.--If none other\n Will grant the just interment to my brother\n Myself will bury him. The risk I reck not,\n Nor blush to call rebellion's self a virtue,\n Where I rebel, being kind to my own kin.\n Our common source of life, a mother doomed\n To matchless woes, nor less the father doomed,\n Demand no vulgar reverence. I will share\n Reproach with the reproached, and with my kin\n Know kindred grief, the living with the dead.\n For his dear flesh, no hollow-stomach'd wolves\n Shall tear it--no! myself, though I'm but woman,\n Will make his tomb, and do the sacred office.\n Even in this bosom's linen folds, I'll bear\n Enough of earth to cover him withal.\n This thing I'll do. I will. For bold resolves\n Still find bold hands; the purpose makes the plan.\n\n {293}\n\n HERALD.\n When Thebes commands, 'tis duty to obey.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n When ears are deaf, 'tis wisdom to be dumb.\n\n HERALD.\n Fierce is a people with young victory flushed.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n Fierce let them be; he shall not go unburied.\n\n HERALD.\n What? wilt thou honour whom the city hates?\n\n ANTIGONE.\n And did the gods not honour whom I honour?\n\n HERALD.\n Once: ere he led the spear against his country.\n\n ANTIGONE.\n Evil entreatment he repaid with evil.\n\n HERALD.\n Should thousands suffer for the fault of one?\n\n ANTIGONE.\n Strife is the last of gods to end her tale;\n My brother I will bury. Make no more talk.\n\n HERALD.\n Be wilful, if thou wilt. I counsel wisdom.\n\n CHORUS.\n    Mighty Furies that triumphant\n    Ride on ruin's baleful wings,[n47]\n    Crushed ye have and clean uprooted\n    This great race of Theban kings.\n    Who shall help me? Who shall give me,\n    Sure advice, and counsel clear?\n    Shall mine eyes freeze up their weeping?\n    Shall my feet refuse to follow\n    Thy loved remnant? but I fear\n    Much the rulers, and their mandate\n    Sternly sanctioned. Shall it be?\n    Him shall many mourners follow?\n    Thee, rejected by thy country,\n    Thee no voice of wailing nears,\n    All thy funeral march a sister\n    Weeping solitary tears?\n\n   [_The_ CHORUS _now divides itself into two parts, of which one\n   attaches itself to_ ANTIGONE _and the corpse of_ POLYNICES; _the\n   other to_ ISMENE _and the corpse of_ ETEOCLES.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS.\n    Let them threaten, or not threaten,\n    We will drop the friendly tear,\n    With the pious-minded sister,\n    We will tend the brother's bier.\n    And though public law forbids\n    These tears, free-shed for public sorrow,\n    Laws oft will change, and in one state\n    What's right to-day is wrong to morrow.\n\n SEMI-CHORUS.\n    For us we'll follow, where the city\n    And the law of Cadmus leads us,\n {294}\n    To the funeral of the brave.\n    By the aid of Jove Supernal,\n    And the gods that keep the city,\n    Mighty hath he been to save;\n    He hath smote the proud invader,\n    He hath rolled the ruin backward\n    Of the whelming Argive wave.\n\n[The End]\n\n\n\nTHE PERSIANS\n\n{295}\n\nA HISTORICAL CANTATA\n\n \"Why should calamity be full of words?\n Windy attorneys to their client woes,\n Airy succeeders of intestate joys,\n Poor breathing orators of miseries!\n Let them have scope; though what they do in part\n Help nothing else, yet they do ease the heart.\"\n                              SHAKESPERE.\n\n \u1f6e \u03b8\u03b5\u03af\u03b7 \u03a3\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u1f76\u03c2. \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c3\u1f7a \u03c4\u03ad\u03ba\u03bd\u03b1 \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd.\n                            DELPHIC ORACLE.\n\n\n\nPERSONS\n\n{296}\n\n CHORUS OF PERSIAN ELDERS.\n ATOSSA, Mother of Xerxes.\n MESSENGER.\n SHADE OF DARIUS, Father of Xerxes.\n XERXES, King of Persia.\n\nSCENE--_Before the Palace at Susa. Tomb of Darius in the background._\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY REMARKS\n\n{297}\n\nTHE piece, on the perusal of which the reader is now about to enter,\nstands unique among the extant remains of the ancient drama, as drawing\nits materials from the historical, not the mythological, age of the\nGreek people. We are not, from this fact, to conclude that the Greeks,\nor the ancients generally, drew a more strict boundary line between the\nprovinces of history and poetry, than the moderns. Such an inference\nwere the very reverse of the fact, as the whole style of ancient history\non the one hand, and the examples of Ennius and Lucan in poetry,\nsufficiently show. Not even within the special domain of the Greek stage\nis our one extant example the only historical drama of which the records\nof Hellenic literature have preserved the memory; on the contrary, one\nof the old arguments of the present play expressly testifies that\nPhrynichus, a contemporary of \u00c6schylus, had written a play on the same\nsubject; and we know, from other sources, that the same dramatist had\nexhibited on the stage, with the most powerful effect, the capture of\nthe city of Miletus, which took place only a few years before the battle\nof Marathon.[f1] There was a plain reason, however, why, with all\nthis, historical subjects should, in the general case, have been\nexcluded from the range of the Greek dramatic poetry; and that reason\nwas, the religious character which, as we have previously shown,\nbelonged so essentially to the tragic exhibitions of the Hellenes. That\nreligious character necessarily directed the eye of the tragic poet to\nthose ages in the history of his country, when the gods held more\nfamiliar and open converse with men, and to those exploits which were\nperformed by Jove-descended heroes in olden time, under the express\nsanction, and with the special inspiration, of Heaven. Had a\ncharacteristically Christian drama arisen, at an early period, out of\nthe festal celebrations of the Church, the sacred poets of such a drama\nwould, in the same way, have confined themselves to strictly scriptural\nthemes, or to themes belonging to the earlier and more venerable\ntraditions of the Church.\n\n{298}\n\nWith regard to the subject of the present drama, there can be no doubt\nthat, like the fall of Napoleon at Moscow, Leipzig, and Waterloo, in\nthese latter days, so in ancient history there is no event more suited\nfor the purposes of poetry than the expedition of Xerxes into Greece.\nThere is \"a beginning, a middle, and an end,\" in this story, which might\nsatisfy the critical demands of the sternest Aristotle; a moral also,\nthan which no sermon ever preached from Greek stage or Christian pulpit\nis better calculated to tame the foolish pride, and to purify the turbid\npassions of humanity. In ancient and modern times, accordingly, from\nCh\u0153rilus to Glover, the whole, or part of this subject has been\ntreated, as its importance seemed to demand, epically;[f2] but of\nall the poetical glorifications of this high theme, that of \u00c6schylus\nhas alone succeeded in asserting for itself a permanent niche in the\nlibrary of that select poetry which belongs to all times and all places.\n\nOf the battle of Salamis and the expedition of Xerxes, as an historical\nevent, it must be unnecessary for me to say a single word here,\nentitled, as I am, to presume that no reader of the plays of \u00c6schylus\ncan be ignorant of the main facts, and the tremendous moral significance\nof that event. I shall only mention, for the sake of those whose memory\nis not well exercised in chronology, that it took place in the autumn of\nthe year 480 before Christ, ten years after the battle of Marathon,\nthirty years after the expulsion of the Tarquins from Rome, and eighty\nyears after the foundation of the great Persian empire by Cyrus the\ngreat. Those who wish to read the descriptions of the poet with complete\ninterest and satisfaction should peruse the 38th, 39th, 40th, and 41st\nchapters (Vol. V.), of Mr. GROTE's great work; and, if possible, also,\nthe 7th and 8th books of Herodotus.[f3]\n\nOn the poetical merit of the Persians, as a work of art, a great\nauthority, Schlegel, has pronounced that it is \"undoubtedly the most\nimperfect of all the extant tragedies of this poet;\" but, unless the\nhistorical theme be the stumbling-block, I really cannot see on what\nground this judgment proceeds. As for the descriptive parts, the battle\nof Salamis, and the retreat of the routed monarch, are pictured with a\nvividness and a power to which nothing in this massive and manly author\nis superior; the interest to the reader being increased tenfold by the\nfact, that he is here dealing with a real event of the most important\ncharacter, and recited by one of the best qualified {299} of\neye-witnesses. The moral of the piece, as already stated, is, in every\nrespect, what in a great drama or epos could be desired; and, with\nrespect to the lyrics, the Anap\u00e6stic march, and the choral chaunt in\nIonic measure, with which it opens, has about it a breadth, a\nmagnificence, and a solemnity surpassed only in the choral hymns of the\nAgamemnon. Not less effective, to an ancient audience, I am sure, must\nhave been the grand antiphonal chaunt with which (as in The Seven\nagainst Thebes) the variously repeated wail of this tragedy is brought\nto a climax; and if the Bishop of London, and some other scholars, have\nthought this sad exhibition of national lamentation ridiculous, we ought\nto believe that these critics have forgot the difference between a\nmodern reader and an ancient spectator, rather than that so great a\nmaster as \u00c6schylus did not know how to distinguish between a tragedy\nand a farce.\n\nIn common with other historical poems, the Persians of \u00c6schylus is not\naltogether free from the fault of bringing our imaginative faculty into\ncollision with our understanding, by a partial suppression or\nexaggeration of historical truth. In the way of suppression, the most\nnoticeable thing is, that the slave of Themistocles, who is described as\nhaving, by a false report to Xerxes, brought on the battle of Salamis,\nappears, according to the poet, to have cheated the Persians only;\nwhereas, according to the real story, he cheated his countrymen also,\nand forced them to fight in that place against the will of the\nnon-Athenian members of the confederation. In the way of exaggeration,\nagain, GROTE, in an able note,[f4] has shown what appear to me\nvalid reasons for disbelieving the fact of the freezing of the Strymon,\nand its sudden thaw, described so piteously by our poet; while the very\nnature of the case plainly shows that the whole circumstances of the\nretreat, coming to us through Greek reporters, were very liable to\nexaggeration. This, however, in a poetical description, is a small\nmatter. What appears to me much worse, and, indeed, the weakest point in\nthe structure of the whole drama, is that the contrast between the\ncharacter and conduct of Darius and that of his son is drawn in colours\nmuch too strong; the fact being that the son, in following the advice of\nMardonius to attack Athens, was only carrying into execution the design\nof the father, and making use of his preparations.[f5] All that I\nhave to say in defence of this misrepresentation is, that the poet wrote\nwith a glowing patriotic heat what we now contemplate with a cold\nhistorical criticism. The greatest works of the greatest masters can, as\n{300} human nature is constituted, seldom be altogether free from\ninconsistencies of this kind.\n\nI have only further to add, that I have carefully read what WELCKER\nand GRUPPE[f6] have written on the supposed ideal connection\nbetween the four pieces of the tetralogy, among which the Persians\nstands second, in the extant Greek argument;[f7] but that, while I\nadmire exceedingly the learning and ingenuity of these writers, I doubt\nmuch the utility of attempting to restore the palaces of ancient art out\nof those few loose bricks which Time has spared us from the once compact\nmass. Poetry may be benefited by such speculations; Philology, I rather\nfear, has been injured.\n\n\n\nTHE PERSIANS\n\n{301}\n\n  [CHORUS, _entering the Orchestra in procession. March time._\n\n CHORUS.\n We are the Persian watchmen old,\n The guardians true of the palace of gold,\n Left to defend the Asian land,\n When the army marched to Hellas' strand;\n Elders chosen by Xerxes the king,\n The son of Darius, to hold the reins,\n Till he the conquering host shall bring\n Back to Susa's sunny plains.\n But the spirit within me is troubled and tossed,\n When I think of the King and the Persian host;\n And my soul, dark-stirred with the prophet's mood,\n      Bodes nothing good.\n For the strength of the Asian land went forth,\n And my heart cries out for the young king's worth\n That marshalled them on to the war:[f8]\n Nor herald, nor horseman, nor wandering fame,\n Since then to the towers of the Persian came.\n From Susa and from Ecbatana far,\n And from the Cissian fortress old,[f9]\n Strong in the ordered ranks of war\n Forth they went, the warriors bold;\n Horseman and footman and seaman went,\n A vast and various armament.\n Amistres, Artaphrenes, led the van,\n Megab\u00e1tes, Astaspes, obeyed the ban;\n Persian leaders, kings from afar\n Followed the great King's call to the war.\n Forth they went with arrow and bow,[n1]\n And in clattering turms with chivalrous show;\n To the eye of the dastard a terrible sight,\n    And with constancy mailed for the fight.\n Artemb\u00e1res in steeds delighting,\n Imaeus the foe with the sure arrow smiting,\n Pharand\u00e1ces, Masistres, Sosth\u00e1nes in war\n {302}\n Who lashes the steed, and drives the car.\n The mighty and many-nurturing Nile\n Sent forth many a swarthy file;\n Susisc\u00e1nes and Egypt's son\n Pegast\u00e1gon lead them on.\n Ars\u00e1mes the mighty, whose word commands\n The strength of the sacred Memphian bands,\n And Ariomardus brave, whose sway\n The sons of Ogygian[f10] Thebes obey.\n And the countless host with sturdy oar\n That plough the lagoons of the slimy shore,[f11]\n And the Lydians march in luxurious pride,\n And the tribes of the continent far and wide\n Whom Arcteus and valiant Metragathes lead,\n Kings that serve the great King's need;\n And the men who fight from the sharp-scythed car,\n Whom golden Sardes[n2] sends to the war;\n Some with two yoke, some with three,\n    A terrible sight to see.\n And the sons of sacred Tmolus appear[f12]\n On free-necked Hellas to lay the yoke,\n Mardon and Tharybis, stiff to the spear\n As the anvil is stiff to the hammer's stroke.\n And the men of Mysia skilful to throw\n The well-poised dart,[n3] and they who ride\n    On wide Ocean's swelling tide,\n A mingled people with motley show\n From golden Babylon, men who know\n To point the arrow and bend the bow.\n The Asian tribes that wear the sword[n4]\n      From far and near\n      The summons hear,\n And follow the hest of their mighty Lord.\n All the flower of the Persian youth hath gone,\n And the land that nursed them is left alone\n     To pine with love's delay;\n And wives and mothers from day to day,\n     Fearing what birth\n     The time shall bring forth,\n Fret the long-drawn hours away.\n\n {303}\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n     Proudly the kingly host,\n     City-destroying, crossed\n     Hence to the neighbouring\n       Contrary coast;\n     Paving the sea with planks,\n     Marched he his serried ranks:\n     Hell\u00e8's swift-rushing stream,[f13]\n     Binding with cord and chain,\n       Forging a yoke\n     For the neck of the main.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n     King of a countless host,\n       Asia's warlike boast,\n     Shepherd of many sheep,[n5]\n       Conquering crossed.\n     Trusting to men of might,\n     Footman and harnessed knight;\n     Son of a golden race,\n     Strong both by land and sea,\n       Equal to gods,\n     Though a mortal was he.\n\n STROPHE II.\n     His eyes like the dragon's dire\n     Flashing with dark blue fire,[f14]\n       See him appear!\n     Through the long lines of war\n     Driving the Syrian car,[f15]\n     Ares in arrows strong\n     Leading against the strong\n       Men of the spear!\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n     When wave upon wave of men\n     Breaks through each Grecian glen,\n       Whelming the land,\n {304}\n     War like wild Ocean's tide,\n     What arm shall turn aside?\n     Persia's stout-hearted race,\n     Hand to hand, face to face,\n       Who shall withstand?\n\n MESODE.\n     But, when the gods deceive,[n6]\n     Wiles which immortals weave\n       Who shall beware?\n     Who, when their nets surround,\n     Breaks with a nimble bound\n       Out of the snare?\n     First they approach with smiles,\n     Wreathing their hidden wiles:\n       Then with surprise,\n     Seize they their prey; and lo!\n     Writhing in toils of woe\n       Tangled he lies.\n\n STROPHE III.\n     Fate hath decreed it so,\n     Peace, peace, is not for thee!\n     Persia, hear and know,\n     War is the lot for thee!\n     Spake the supernal powers,\n     Charging of steeds shall be,\n     Taking of towns and towers,\n       Persia, to thee!\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n     Where the sea, hoar with wrath,\n     Roars to the roaring blast,\n     Daring a doubtful path,\n     Persian hosts have passed;\n     Where wave on wave cresting on\n     Bristles with angry breath,\n     Cable and plank alone\n       Part them from death!\n\n STROPHE IV.\n     Therefore is my soul within me\n     Murky-mantled, pricked with fear:\n     Alas! the Persian army! Never\n {305}\n     May such cry invade my ear!\n     Susa, emptied of her children,\n       Desolate and drear!\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n   Never may the Cissian fortress\n   With such echo split the air;\n   Spare mine ears the shrieks of women,\n   And mine eyes the sad sight spare,\n   When fair hands the costly linen\n     From gentle bosoms tear!\n\n STROPHE V.\n   For all our horse with frequent tramp,\n   And our footmen from the camp,\n   Even as bees on busy wing,\n     Swarmed out with the king:\n   And they paved their briny way,\n   Where beats the many-mingling spray\n   The bridge that joins the Thracian strand\n       To Asian land.[f16]\n\n ANTISTROPHE V.\n   Wives bedew with many a tear\n   The couches where the partner dear\n   Hath been, and is not; Persian wives\n     Fret with desire their lives.\n   Far, far, he roams from land to land,\n   Her restless lord with lance in hand;\n   She in unmated grief to moan\n       Is left alone.\n\n But come, ye Persian elders all,\n Let us seat us beside this ancient hall;\n Wise counsel to-day let us honestly frame,\n Touching the fate of the kingly one,\n Race of our race, and name of our name,\n     Darius' godlike son:\n For much it concerns us to know\n Whether the winged shaft shot from the bow,\n Or the strength of the pointed spear hath won.\n But lo! where she comes, a moving light,\n {306}\n Like the eyes of the god so bright,\n The mother of Xerxes, my queen.\n Let us fall down before her with humble prostration,[n7]\n And greet her to-day with a fair salutation,\n The mother of Xerxes, my queen.\n [_To_ ATOSSA, _entering_.] Mistress of the low-zoned women, queen of\n   Persia's daughters, hail!\n Aged mother of King Xerxes, wife of great Darius, hail!\n Spouse of him who was a god, and of a present god the mother,\n If the ancient bliss that crowned it hath not left the Persian host.\n\n   [_Enter_ ATOSSA, _drawn with royal pomp in a chariot._\n\n ATOSSA.\n Even this hath moved me, leaving these proud golden-garnished halls,\n And the common sleeping chamber of Darius and myself,\n Here to come. Sharp fear within me pricks my heart; I will declare\n All the thoughts that deep perplex me to my friends; the secret fear\n Lest our pride of ramping riches kick our sober weal in the dust,\n Scattering wide what wealth Darius gathered, not without a god.\n Twofold apprehension moves me, when I ponder this old truth;\n Without men much riches profit little; without wealth the state,\n Though in numbers much abounding, may not look on joyous light.\n Riches are a thing not evil; but I tremble for the eye,\n And the eye I call the presence of the master in the house.[f17]\n Ye have heard my sorrows; make me sharer of your counsel now,\n In what matter I shall tell you, ancient, trusty Persian men;\n For with you my whole of wisdom, all my healthy counsels dwell.\n\n CHORUS.\n Mistress of this land, believe it, never shalt thou ask a kindness,\n Be it word from us or action, twice, while power shall aid the will;\n We are willing to advise thee in this matter, what we may.\n\n {307}\n\n ATOSSA.\n Since when my son departed with the army,\n To bring destruction on Ionia,[f18] scarcely\n One night hath been that did not bring me dreams;\n But yesternight, with figurement most clear,\n I dreamt; hear thou the theme. Methought I saw\n Two women richly dight, in Persian robes\n The one, the other in a Dorian dress,\n Both tall above the vulgar stature, both\n Of beauty blameless, and descended both\n From the same race. The one on Hellas dwelt,\n The other on fair Asia's continent.\n Between these twain some strife there seemed to rise;\n Which when my son beheld, forthwith he seized them,\n And joined them to his car, and made their necks\n Submissive to the yoke. The one uptowered\n In pride of harness, as rejoiced to follow\n The kingly rein. The other kicked and plunged,\n And tossed the gear away, and broke the traces,\n The yoke in sunder snapt, and from the car\n Ran reinless. On the ground my son was thrown,\n And to his aid Darius pitying came,\n Whom when he saw, my Xerxes rent his robes.\n Such was my vision of the night; the morn\n Brought a new portent with it. When I rose,\n And dipped my hands in the fair-flowing fount,[f8]\n And to the altar of the averting gods,\n To whom such right pertains, with sacred cake\n In sacrificial ministry advanced,\n I saw an eagle flying to the altar[n9]\n Of Ph\u0153bus; there all mute with fear I stood;\n And after it in swiftest flight I saw\n A hawk that darted on the eagle's head,\n And tore it with his claws, the royal bird\n Yielding his glory meekly to be plucked.\n These things I saw in fear, as ye in fear\n Must hear them. Ye know well, my son commands\n Supreme in Persia. Should success attend him,\n 'Tis well; but should mischance o'ertake him, he\n Will rule in Susa as he ruled before;\n No power is here to whom he owes account.\n\n CHORUS.\n We advise thee, mother, neither with the feeble words of fear,\n {308}\n Nor with boastful courage. Turn thee to the gods in supplication:\n Theirs it is to ward fulfilment of all evil-omened sights,\n Bringing good to full fruition for thyself and for thy children,\n For the city and all that love thee. Then a pure libation pour\n To the Earth and to the Manes; with especial honor pray\n The dread Shade of thy Darius whom thou sawest in the night,\n To send blessings on thy Xerxes in the gladness of the day,\n Keeping back unblissful sorrows in the sightless gloom of death.\n Thus my soul its own diviner[f19] with a friendly kind concern\n Counsels. Doubtless time will perfect happy fates for thee and thine.\n\n ATOSSA.\n Truly, with a friendly reading thou hast read my mid-night*** dreams,\n Words of strengthening solace speaking to my son and to my house.\n May the gods all blessing perfect. I to them, as thou hast said,\n And the Shades, the well-beloved, will perform befitting rites,\n In the palace; meanwhile tell me this, for I would gladly know\n Where, O friends, is famous Athens on the broad face of the Earth?[n10]\n\n CHORUS.\n Far in the west: beside the setting of the lord of light the sun.\n\n ATOSSA.\n This same Athens, my son Xerxes longed with much desire to take.\n\n CHORUS.\n Wisely: for all Greece submissive, when this city falls, will fall.\n\n ATOSSA.\n Are they many? do they number men enough to meet my son?\n\n CHORUS.\n What they number was sufficient once to work the Medes much harm.\n\n ATOSSA.\n Other strength than numbers have they? wealth enough within themselves?\n\n CHORUS.\n They can boast a fount of silver, native treasure to the land.[f20]\n\n {309}\n\n ATOSSA.\n Are they bowmen good? sure-feathered do their pointed arrows fly?\n\n CHORUS.\n Not so. Stable spears they carry, massy armature of shields.\n\n ATOSSA.\n Who is shepherd of this people? lord of the Athenian host?\n\n CHORUS.\n Slaves are they to no man living, subject to no earthly name.[n11]\n\n ATOSSA.\n How can such repel the onset of a strong united host?\n\n CHORUS.\n _How_ Darius knew in Hellas, when he lost vast armies there.\n\n ATOSSA.\n Things of deep concern thou speakest to all mothers in this land.\n\n CHORUS.\n Thou shalt know anon exactly more than I can guess, for lo!\n Here comes one--a hasty runner--he should be a Persian man.\n News, I wis, this herald bringeth of deep import, good or bad.\n\n   [_Enter_ MESSENGER.\n\n MESSENGER.\n O towns and cities of wide Asia,\n O Persian land, wide harbour of much wealth,\n How hath one stroke laid all thy grandeur low,\n One frost nipt all thy bloom! Woe's me that I\n Should be first bearer of bad news! but strong\n Necessity commands to speak the truth.\n Persians, the whole barbaric host hath perished.\n\n STROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n    O misery! misery, dark and deep!\n     Dole and sorrow and woe!\n    Weep, ye Persians! wail and weep,\n     For wounds that freshly flow!\n\n MESSENGER.\n All, all is ruined: not a remnant left.\n Myself, against all hope, see Persia's sun.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n CHORUS.\n    O long, too long, through creeping years\n     Hath the life of the old man lasted,\n    To see--and nurse his griefs with tears--\n     The hopes of Persia blasted!\n\n MESSENGER.\n I speak no hearsay: what these eyes beheld\n Of blackest evil, Persians, I declare.\n\n {310}\n\n STROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n    Ah me! all in vain against Hellas divine\n    Were the twanging bow and whizzing reed,\n    All vainly mustered the thickly clustered\n     Armies of the Mede!\n\n MESSENGER.\n The shores of Salamis, and all around\n With the thick bodies of our dead are peopled.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n CHORUS.\n    Alas! the wreck of the countless host!\n    The sundered planks, and the drifted dead,[n12]\n    Rocked to and fro, with the ebb and the flow\n     On a wavy-wandering bed!\n\n MESSENGER.\n Vain were our shafts; our mighty multitude\n Vanished before their brazen-beaked attack.\n\n STROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n    Sing ye, sing ye a sorrowful song,\n     Lift ye, lift ye a piercing cry!\n    Our harnessed throng and armies strong\n     Lost and ruined utterly!\n\n MESSENGER.\n O hated name to hear, sad Salamis!\n O Athens, I remember thee with groans.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n CHORUS.\n    O Athens, Athens, thou hast reft us\n     Of our all we did possess!\n    Sonless mothers thou hast left us,\n     Weeping wives and husbandless!\n\n ATOSSA.\n Thou see'st I have kept silence: this sad stroke\n Hath struck me dumb, as powerless to give voice\n To my own sorrows, as to ask another's.\n Yet when the gods send trouble, mortal men\n Must learn to bear it. Therefore be thou calm;\n Unfold the perfect volume of our woes,\n And, though the memory grieve thee, let us hear\n Thy tale to the end; what loss demands our tears,\n Which of the baton-bearing chiefs[f21] hath left\n An army to march home without a head.\n\n MESSENGER.\n Xerxes yet lives, and looks on the light.\n\n ATOSSA.\n                                          Much light\n In this to me, and to my house thou speakest,\n A shining day from out a pitchy night.\n\n {311}\n\n MESSENGER.\n Artembares, captain of ten thousand horse,\n Upon the rough Silenian shores[f22] lies dead,\n And Dadaces, the chiliarch, spear-struck fell\n Precipitate from his ship--an easy leap;\n And noble Tenagon, a pure Bactrian born,\n Around the sea-lashed isle of Ajax floats.\n Lilaeus, Arsames, Argestes, these\n The waves have made their battering ram, to beat\n The hard rocks of the turtle-nurturing isle.\n Pharnuchus, Pheresseues, and Adeues,\n And Arcteus from their native Nile-spring far\n Fell from one ship into one grave. Matallus,\n The Chrysian myriontarch, who led to Hellas\n Full thrice ten thousand sable cavalry,\n His thick and bushy beard's long tawny pride\n Hath dyed in purple gore. The Magian Arabus\n The Bactrian Artames on the self-same shore\n Have found no cushioned lodgment.[f23] There Amestris,[n13]\n And there Amphistreus, wielder of the spear,\n And there Metragathes lies, for whom the Sardians\n Weep well-earned tears; and Sersames, the Mysian.\n With them, of five times fifty ships commander,\n Lyrnaean Tharybis, a goodly man,\n Lies hopeless stretched on the unfriendly strand.\n Syennesis, the brave Cilician chief\n Who singly wrought more trouble to the foe\n Than thousands, died with a brave man's report.\n These names I tell thee of the chiefs that fell,\n A few selecting out of many losses.\n\n ATOSSA.\n Alas! alas! more than enough I hear;\n Shame to the Persians and shrill wails. But say,\n Retracing thy discourse, what was the number\n Of the Greek ships that dared with Persia's fleet\n To engage, and grapple beak to beak.\n\n MESSENGER.\n                                     If number\n Of ships might gain the fight, believe me, queen,\n The victory had been ours. The Greeks could tell\n But ten times thirty ships, with other ten,\n Of most select equipment. Xerxes numbered\n A thousand ships, two hundred sail and seven\n Of rapid wing beside. Of this be assured,\n {312}\n What might of man could do was done to save us;\n Some god hath ruined us, not weighing justly\n An equal measure. Pallas saves her city.[n14]\n\n ATOSSA.\n The city? is it safe? does Athens stand?\n\n MESSENGER.\n It stands without the fence of walls. Men wall it.\n\n ATOSSA.\n But say, who first commenced the fight--the Greeks\n Or, in his numbers strong, my kingly son.\n\n MESSENGER.\n Some evil god, or an avenging spirit,[f24]\n Began the fray. From the Athenian fleet\n There came a Greek,[n15] and thus thy son bespoke.\n \"Soon as the gloom of night shall fall, the Greeks\n No more will wait, but, rushing to their oars,\n Each man will seek his safety where he may,\n By secret flight.\" This Xerxes heard, but knew not\n The guile of Greece, nor yet the jealous gods,\n And to his captains straightway gave command\n That, when the sun withdrew his burning beams,\n And darkness filled the temple of the sky,[n16]\n In triple lines their ships they should dispose,\n Each wave-plashed outlet guarding, fencing round\n The isle of Ajax surely. Should the Greeks\n Deceive this guard, or with their ships escape\n In secret flight, each captain with his head\n Should pay for his remissness. These commands\n With lofty heart, thy son gave forth, nor thought\n What harm the gods were weaving. They obeyed.\n Each man prepared his supper, and the sailors\n Bound the lithe oar to its familiar block.\n Then, when the sun his shining glory paled,\n And night swooped down, each master of the oar,\n Each marshaller of arms, embarked; and then\n Line called on line to take its ordered place.\n All night they cruised, and, with a moving belt,\n Prisoned the frith, till day 'gan peep, and still\n No stealthy Greek the expected flight essayed.\n But when at length the snowy-steeded Day\n Burst o'er the main, all beautiful to see,\n First from the Greeks a tuneful shout uprose,\n Well-omened, and, with replication loud,\n Leapt the blithe echo from the rocky shore.\n Fear seized the Persian host, no longer tricked\n By vain opinion; not like wavering flight\n {313}\n Billowed the solemn p\u00e6an of the Greeks,\n But like the shout of men to battle urging,\n With lusty cheer. Then the fierce trumpet's voice\n Blazed[f25] o'er the main; and on the salt sea flood\n Forthwith the oars, with measured plash, descended,\n And all their lines, with dexterous speed displayed,\n Stood with opposing front. The right wing first,\n Then the whole fleet bore down, and straight uprose\n A mighty shout. \"SONS OF THE GREEKS, ADVANCE!\n YOUR COUNTRY FREE, YOUR CHILDREN FREE, YOUR WIVES!\n THE ALTARS OF YOUR NATIVE GODS DELIVER,\n AND YOUR ANCESTRAL TOMBS--ALL'S NOW AT STAKE!\"\n A like salute from our whole line back-rolled\n In Persian speech. Nor more delay, but straight\n Trireme on trireme, brazen beak on beak\n Dashed furious. A Greek ship led on the attack,[f26]\n And from the prow of a Ph\u0153nician struck\n The figure-head; and now the grapple closed\n Of each ship with his adverse desperate.\n At first the main line of the Persian fleet\n Stood the harsh shock; but soon their multitude\n Became their ruin; in the narrow frith\n They might not use their strength, and, jammed together,\n Their ships with brazen beaks did bite each other,\n And shattered their own oars. Meanwhile the Greeks\n Stroke after stroke dealt dexterous all around,\n Till our ships showed their keels, and the blue sea\n Was seen no more, with multitude of ships\n And corpses covered. All the shores were strewn,\n And the rough rocks, with dead; till, in the end,\n Each ship in the barbaric host, that yet\n Had oars, in most disordered flight rowed off.\n As men that fish for tunnies, so the Greeks,\n With broken booms, and fragments of the wreck,\n Struck our snared men, and hacked them, that the sea,\n With wail and moaning, was possessed around,\n Till black-eyed Night shot darkness o'er the fray.[f27]\n These ills thou hearest: to rehearse the whole,\n Ten days were few; but this, my queen, believe,\n No day yet shone on Earth whose brightness looked\n On such a tale of death.\n\n {314}\n\n ATOSSA.\n                          A sea of woes\n On Persia bursts, and all the Persian name!\n\n MESSENGER.\n Thou hast not heard the half: another woe\n Remains, that twice outweighs what I have told.\n\n ATOSSA.\n What worse than this? Say what mischance so strong\n To hurt us more, being already ruined?\n\n MESSENGER.\n The bloom of all the Persian youth, in spirit\n The bravest, and in birth the noblest, princes\n In whom thy son placed his especial trust,\n All by a most inglorious doom have perished.\n\n ATOSSA.\n O wretched me, that I should live to hear it!\n But by what death did Persia's princes die?\n\n MESSENGER.\n There is an islet, fronting Salamis,\n To ships unfriendly, of dance-loving Pan[n17]\n The chosen haunt, and near the Attic coast.\n Here Xerxes placed his chiefest men, that when\n The routed Greeks should seek this strand, our troops\n Might both aid friends, where friends their aid required,\n And kill the scattered Greeks, an easy prey;\n Ill-auguring what should hap! for when the gods\n Gave to the Greeks the glory of the day,[f28]\n Straightway well-cased in mail from their triremes\n They leapt, rushed on the isle, and hedged it round,\n That neither right nor left our men might turn,\n But fell in heaps, some struck by rattling stones,\n Some pierced by arrows from the twanging bow.\n Then, in one onslaught fiercely massed, the Greeks\n Our fenceless chiefs in slashing butchery\n Mowed down, till not one breath remained to groan.\n But Xerxes groaned: for from a height that rose\n From the sea-shore conspicuous,[f29] with clear view\n He mustered the black fortune of the fight.\n His stole he rent, and lifting a shrill wail\n Gave the poor remnant of his host command\n To flee; and fled with them. Lament with me,\n This second sorrow heaped upon the first.\n\n ATOSSA.\n O dismal god! how has thy hate deceived\n The mind of the Mede! A bitter vengeance truly\n Hath famous Athens wreaked on my poor son,\n {315}\n To all the dead that fell at Marathon\n Adding this slaughter!--O my son! my son!\n Thyself hast paid the penalty that thou\n Went to inflict on others!--But let me hear\n Where hast thou left the few ships that escaped?\n\n MESSENGER.\n The remnant of the fleet with full sail sped\n Swift in disordered flight from Salamis.\n The wreck of the army through B\u0153otia trailed\n Its sickly line: there some of thirst fell dead\n Even in the water's view; some with fatigue\n Panting toiled on through Phocian land, and Doris,\n And passed the Melian gulf, where through the plain\n Spercheius rolls his fructifying flood.\n Then faint and famished the Achaean land\n Received us, and fair Thessaly's city; there\n The most of hunger died and thirst; for with\n This double plague we struggled. Next Magnesia\n And Macedonian ground we traversed; then\n The stream of Axius, reedy Bolbe's mere,\n The Edonian fields, and the Pangaean hills.\n But here some god[f30] stirred winter premature,\n And in the night froze Strymon's holy stream.\n Then men who never worshipped gods before\n Called on the heavens and on the Earth to save them,\n With many prayers, in vain. A few escaped,\n What few had crossed the ice-compacted flood\n Ere the strong god of light shot forth his rays.\n For soon the lustrous orb of day shone out\n With blazing beams, unbound the stream, and oped\n Inevitable fate beneath them: then\n Man upon man in crowded ruin fell,\n And he was happiest who the soonest died.\n We who survived, a miserable wreck,\n Struggled through Thrace slowly with much hard toil,[n18]\n And stand again on Persian ground, and see\n Our native hearths. Much cause the city has\n To weep the loss of her selectest youth.\n These words are true: much I omit to tell\n Of all the woes a god hath smote withal\n Our Persian land.\n\n CHORUS.\n                  O sorely-vexing god,\n How hast thou trampled 'neath no gentle foot\n The Persian race!\n\n {316}\n\n ATOSSA.\n                   Woe's me! the army's lost.\n O dreamy shapes night wandering, too clearly\n Your prophecy spoke truth! But you, good Seniors,\n Sorry expounders though ye be, in one thing\n I will obey. I will go pray the gods,\n As ye advised; then gifts I will present\n To Earth and to the Manes. I will offer,\n The sacred cake to appease them. For the past,\n 'Tis past beyond all change; but hope may be\n To make the gods propitious for the future.\n Meanwhile your counsel in this need I crave;\n A faithful man is mighty in mischance.\n My son, if he shall come ere I return,\n Cheer him with friendly words, and see him safe,\n Lest to this ill some worser woe be added. [_Exit._\n\n CHORUS.\n   O Jove, king Jove destroyed hast thou\n   Our high-vaunting countless hosts!\n   Our high-vaunting countless hosts\n       Where be they now?\n   Susa's glory, Ecbatana's pride,\n   In murky sorrow thou didst hide,\n   And with delicate hands the virgins fair\n       Their white veils tear,\n   And salt streams flow from bright fountains of woe,\n       And rain on the bosoms of snow.\n   They whose love was fresh and young,\n   Where are now their husbands strong?\n   The soft delights of the nuptial bed\n       With purple spread,\n       Where, where be they?\n   They have lost the joy of their jocund years,\n   And they weep with insatiate tears:\n   And I will reply with my heart's strong cry,\n       And lift the doleful lay.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n   Asia from each furthest corner\n   Weeps her woes, a sonless mourner;\n   Xerxes a wild chase pursuing,\n   Xerxes led thee to thy ruin;\n   Xerxes, luckless fancies wooing,\n   Trimmed vain fleets for thy undoing.\n {317}\n   Not like him the old Darius\n   Shattered thus from Hellas came;\n   Rightly he is honoured by us,\n   Susa's bowman without blame.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n   Dark-prowed ships that plough wide ocean\n   With well-poised wings through waves' commotion,\n   Ships, the countless crews that carried,\n   In briny death ye saw them buried,\n   Where the Ionian beaks were dashing,\n   Where the Persian booms were crashing!\n   And our monarch scarcely scaping,\n   Left with life the deathful fray,\n   Through the plains of Thracia shaping\n   Sad his bleak and wintry way.\n\n STROPHE II.\n   But the firstlings of our losses\n   The Ionian billow tosses,\n   And Cychr\u00e9an waves are hurried,\n   O'er the stranded dead unburied.\n   Let the sharp grief bite thy marrow,\n   With thy wailing smite the sky!\n   Freely voice thy heaving sorrow,\n   With a weighty burden cry!\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n   Woe's me! by the wild waves driven,\n   By the mute sea-monsters riven,[n19]\n   The untainted ocean's creatures\n   Battening on their traceless features!\n   Heirless homes are lorn and lonely,\n   Childless parents weep and wail,\n   Old men weep; with weeping only\n   They receive the woeful tale.\n\n STROPHE III.\n   Ah me! even now while we are mourning\n   Some rebel hearts belike are spurning\n   The Persian rule; some serf refuses\n   The gold due to his master's uses.\n   And some are slow with reverence low\n     To kiss the ground and adore,\n   For the power that long was fresh and strong\n       Is found no more.\n\n {318}\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n   The tongues of men, free from wise reining,\n   Will now break forth with loud complaining;\n   Unmuzzled now, unyoked, the rabble\n   Will blaze abroad licentious babble.\n   For the blood-drenched soil of the sea-swept isle\n     Its prey restoreth never.\n   And the thing that hath been henceforth shall be seen\n       No more for ever.\n\n   [_Enter_ ATOSSA.\n\n ATOSSA.\n Good friends, whoso hath knowledge of mishap,\n Knows this, that men, when swelling ills surge o'er them,\n Brood o'er the harm till all things catch the hue\n Of apprehension; but, when Fortune's stream\n Runs smooth, the same, with confidence elate,\n Hope the boon god will blow fair breezes ever.\n Thus to my soul all things are full of fear,\n The adverse gods from all sides strike my eye,\n And in my ear, with ominous-ringing peal,\n Fate prophesies. Such terror scares my wits.\n No royal car to-day, no queenly pomp\n Is mine; the broidered stole would ill become\n My present mission, bringing as thou see'st,\n These simple offerings to appease the Shades;\n From the chaste cow, this white and healthful milk,\n This clearest juice, by the flower-working bee\n Distilled, this pure wave from the virgin spring,\n This draught of joyaunce from the unmingled grape,\n Of a wild mother born; this fragrant fruit\n Of the pale green olive, ever leafy-fair,[n20]\n And these wreathed flowers, of all-producing Earth\n Fair children. But, my dear lov'd friends, I pray you,\n With pious supplication, now invoke,\n The god Darius[n21] while on the earth I pour\n These pure libations to the honour'd dead.\n\n CHORUS.\n   O queen, much-revered of the Persian nation,\n   To the chambers below pour thou the libation,\n   While we shall uplift the holy hymn,\n   That the gods who reign in the regions dim,\n   May graciously hear when we pray.\n   O holy powers that darkly sway\n       In the subterranean night,\n {319}\n   O Earth, and Hermes, and thou who art king\n   Of the Shades that float on bodiless wing,\n   Send, O send him back to the light!\n   For, if remedy be to our burden of woes,\n      He surely knows.\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n   And dost thou hear me, blessed Shade, imploring\n    Thy aid divine, and freely pouring\n       Of plaintive grief\n       The various flow?\n   I will cry out, till Persia's godlike chief\n       Shall hear below.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n   O Earth, and ye that rule the shadowy homes,\n    Send from your sunless domes\n       The mighty god\n       Of Susan birth,\n   Than whom no greater yet was pressed by the sod\n       Of Persian earth.\n\n STROPHE II.\n   O dear-loved man! dear tomb! and dearer dust\n       That in thee lies!\n    O A\u00efd\u00f3neus, thy charge release,[n22]\n    O stern A\u00efd\u00f3neus, and, in peace,\n       Let king Darius rise!\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n   He was a king no myriads vast he lost\n       In wars inglorious.\n    Persia, a counsellor was he,\n    A counsellor of god to thee,\n       He with his hosts victorious.\n\n STROPHE III.\n   Come, dread lord![n23] Appear! Appear!\n   O'er the sepulchre's topmost tier;\n   The disc of thy regal tiara showing,[n24]\n   With thy sandals saffron-glowing,\n   Come, good father Darius, come!\n\n {320}\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n   Fresh and unstaunched woes to hear,\n   Lord of a mighty lord appear!\n   For the clouds of Stygian night o'ercome us,\n   And all our youth are perished from us,\n   Come, good father Darius, come!\n\n EPODE.\n    O woe! and woe! and yet again\n    Woe, and misery, and pain!\n    Why should'st thou die, and leave the land\n    Thou master of the mighty hand?\n    Why should thy son with foolish venture\n    Shake thy sure Empire to its centre?[n25]\n      And why must we deplore\n   The countless triremes on the sea-swept shore\n      Triremes no more?[n26]\n\n   [_The Shade of_ DARIUS _rises from the Tomb._\n\n DARIUS.\n O faithfullest of my faithful friends, compeers\n Of my fair youth, elders of Persia, say\n With what sore labour labours now the state?\n Pierced is the Earth, and rent with sounds of woe!\n And I my spouse beholding near the tomb\n Am troubled, and her offerings I receive\n Propitious. Ye with her this cry have raised\n Of shrill lament to bring the dead from Hades,\n No easy climb; the gods beneath the ground\n Are readier to receive than to dismiss;[f31]\n But I was lord above them. I am come\n To meet your questioning. Ask, while yet the time\n Chides not my stay. What ill weighs Persia down?\n\n STROPHE\n CHORUS.\n    I cannot speak before thee;\n    I tremble to behold thee;\n    The ancient awe subdues me.\n\n DARIUS.\n Not to hold a long discourse, but swift to grant a short reply,\n I have left the homes of Hades, by your waitings deeply moved.\n What thou hast to ask me, therefore ask, and throw all fear aside.\n\n {321}\n\n ANTISTROPHE.\n CHORUS.\n    I tremble to obey thee.\n    Such sorrows to unfold thee,\n    My powerless lips refuse me.\n\n DARIUS.\n Since the ancient reverence holds thee, and enchains thy mind, to thee\n I will speak, the aged partner of my bed, my high-born spouse.\n Cease thy weepings and thy waitings; tell me what mischance hath hapt.\n 'Tis most human that mischances come to mortal man, not few\n Woes by seas, not few by land, if the Fates prolong his span.\n\n ATOSSA.\n O all men in bliss surpassing while thine eyes beheld the day,\n Of all Persians envied, living like a god on earth, no less\n Happy wert thou in thy dying, ere thou didst behold the depth\n Of this present woe, Darius. Thou, in short phrase shalt hear all.\n Persia's strength is gone: the army lost: all ruined. I have said.\n\n DARIUS.\n How? Did pestilence smite the city, or did foul sedition rise?\n\n ATOSSA.\n Neither. Near far Athens routed was the Persian host.\n\n DARIUS.\n                                                      Who marched?\n Which of my children marched the host to Athens?\n\n ATOSSA.\n                                                 Thy impetuous son\n Xerxes. Xerxes of her children drained wide Asia's plains.\n\n DARIUS.\n                                                           On foot,\n Or with triremes did he risk this foolish venture?\n\n ATOSSA.\n                                                   With two fronts,\n One by sea, by land the other.\n\n DARIUS.\n                               But so vast an army how?\n\n ATOSSA.\n With rare bonds of wood and iron, Helle's streaming frith they crossed.\n\n DARIUS.\n Wood and iron! Could these fetter billowy Bosphorus in his flow?\n\n ATOSSA.\n So it was. Some god had lent him wit to plan his own perdition.\n\n DARIUS.\n Alas! a mighty god full surely robbed him of his sober mind.\n\n {322}\n\n ATOSSA.\n And the fruit of his great folly we behold in matchless woes.\n\n DARIUS.\n I have heard your wailings: tell me more exact the dismal chance.\n\n ATOSSA.\n First the whole sea host being ruined brought like ruin on the foot.\n\n DARIUS.\n By the hostile spear of Hellas they have perished one and all?\n\n ATOSSA.\n Ay. The citadel of Susa, emptied of her children, moans.\n\n DARIUS.\n Alas! the faithful army!\n\n ATOSSA.\n                         All the flower of Bactria's youth are slain.\n\n DARIUS.\n Woe, my hapless son! What myriads of our faithful friends he ruined!\n\n ATOSSA.\n Xerxes, stripped of all his glory, with a straggling few they say--\n\n DARIUS.\n What of him? Speak! Speak! I pray thee; is there safety, is there hope?\n\n ATOSSA.\n Fainly comes, with life scarce rescued, to the bridge that links the\n   lands.\n\n DARIUS.\n And has crossed to Asia?\n\n ATOSSA.\n                         Even so, most surely, ran the news.\n\n DARIUS.\n Ah! on wings how swift the issue of the ancient doom hath sped!\n Thee, my son, great Jove hath smitten. Long-drawn years I hoped would\n   roll,\n Ere fulfilment of the dread prophetic burden should be known.\n But when man to run is eager, swift is the god to add a spur.[n27]\n Opened flows a fount of sorrow to ourselves and to our friends.\n This my son knew not: he acted with green youth's presumptuous daring,\n Weening Helle's sacred current, Bosphorus' flood divine to bind\n Like a slave with hammered fetters, damming its unconquered tide,\n Forcing passage against Nature for a host unwisely great.\n Being mortal with immortals, with Poseidon's power he dared\n To contend fool-hardy. Did not strong distemper hold the soul\n {323}\n Of my hapless son? The riches stored by me with mickle care\n Now, I fear, will be the booty of the swiftest-seizing hand.\n\n ATOSSA.\n Converse with the sons of folly taught thy eager son to err,[n28]\n Thou wert great they said, and mighty, winning riches with thy spear,\n He, unmanly, chamber-fighting, adding nothing to thy store.\n With these taunts the ears assailing of thy warlike son, bad men\n Planned at length the march to Hellas--planned his ruin and our woe.\n\n DARIUS.\n And, doing this, my son hath done a deed\n Whose heavy memory shall not die. For never\n Fell such mischance on Susa's halls, since when\n Jove gave his honor that one sceptre sways\n Sheep-pasturing Asia. First the Mede was King\n Of the vast host of people.[n29] Him his son\n Succeeded, ending well things well begun;\n For wisdom still was rudder to his valour.\n Cyrus, the third from him, a prosperous man,\n Brought peace to all his friends. The Lydian people,\n The Phrygians, the Ionians, he subdued:\n With him no god was wroth; for he was wise.\n The fourth was Cyrus' son: he was a leader\n Of mighty hosts. Him, the fifth, Mardus followed,\n A blot to Persia, and the ancestral throne;\n Whom in the palace slew Artaphrenes,\n Sworn, with a chosen band of faithful friends,\n To give him secret riddance. Maraphis next,\n And seventh Artaphrenes: myself\n Then won the lot I coveted. I marched\n My hosts to many wars, but never brought\n Mishap like this on Susa. My son, Xerxes,\n Being young hath young conceits; and takes no note\n Of my advisement. Ye, who were my friends,\n And fellows in the government, can witness,\n We suffered loss, but we preserved the state.\n\n CHORUS.\n Liege lord Darius, to what issue tend\n Thy words? With greedy ears we wait to hear\n How Persia henceforth may her strength repair.\n\n DARIUS.\n Learn from your loss, and never march your armies\n Again to Hellas, were they twice as strong.\n Not man alone, the land fights for the foe.\n\n {324}\n\n CHORUS.\n How mean'st thou this? how fights the land for them?\n\n DARIUS.\n Our mighty multitudes their barren coast\n Kills by sheer famine.\n\n CHORUS.\n                       But with a moderate host?\n\n DARIUS.\n A moderate host remains; but, of that few,\n Few shall see Persian land.\n\n CHORUS.\n                            How? Shall the army\n Not all from Europe cross by Helle's frith?\n\n DARIUS.\n Few out of many; if the prophecies,\n That are in part fulfilled by what we see,\n (And the gods lie not) speak the future true.\n It is an empty hope that bids him leave\n A select force behind him: they remain,\n Where with fat streams Asopus feeds the plain,\n Themselves to feed it fatter: in B\u0153otia\n Much woe awaits them justly, the fair price\n Of their own godless pride, that did not fear\n When first they entered Greece, to rob the altars\n Of the eternal gods, to fire their temples,\n Uproot the old foundations of their shrines,\n And from their basements in commingled wreck\n Dash down the images. Much harm they worked,\n And much shall suffer. From no shallow bed\n Their woes shall flow, but like a spring gush forth,\n Still fresh enforced. With such gore-streaming death\n The Dorian spear shall daub Plataea's soil;\n And the piled dead to generations three\n Speak this mute wisdom to the thoughtful eye--\n PROUD THOUGHTS WERE NEVER MADE FOR MORTAL MAN;\n A haughty spirit[f32] blossoming bears a crop\n Of woe, and reaps a harvest of despair.\n Look on these things, pride's just avengement; think\n On Athens and on Hellas; fear to slight\n The present bounty of the gods, lest they\n Rob you of much, while greed still gapes for more.\n Jove is chastiser of high-vaunting thoughts,\n And heavily falls his judgment on the proud;\n Therefore, my foolish son, when he shall come,\n With friendly warnings teach, that he may cease\n From rash imaginings that offend the gods.\n And thou, his aged mother, go within,\n {325}\n And bring a seemly robe with thee, to meet\n Thy son withal: for thou shalt see him soon,\n His broidered vestments torn in many a shred,\n Griefs blazonry. Thou only with kind words\n Canst soothe his sorrow, deaf to all beside.\n But now I go hence to the gloom below.\n Ye aged friends, farewell. Though ills surround,\n Yet give your souls to joyaunce, while ye may,\n For riches profit nothing to the dead.\n\n   [_The Shade of_ DARIUS _descends._\n\n CHORUS.\n O many woes, both present and to come,\n On the barbaric race I weep to hear!\n\n ATOSSA.\n O god, how many sorrows hast thou sent\n To weigh me down: but this doth gnaw my heart,\n That I should live to see my kingly son\n Come in griefs tattered weeds to Susa's halls;\n But I will go and bring a seemly robe\n To meet him, if I may. I will not leave\n My dear-loved son unsolaced in his woe.\n                       [_Exit into the palace._\n\n CHORAL HYMN.\n STROPHE I.\n  O glorious and great was the Persian land!\n  To the cities of Susa that owned his command\n      How blest was the day!\n  Defeat came not nigh us when good old Darius\n  With invincible, godlike, victorious hand\n      Held fortunate sway.\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n  Sure-fenced were his cities with law, and no fear\n  The Persian knew when his armies were near;\n      They came from the fight,\n  Not weary and worn, and of glory shorn,\n  But trophied with spoils, and with costliest gear\n      All proudly bedight.\n\n STROPHE II.\n      What cities of splendour\n      To him did surrender,\n  Though he crossed not the border that Halys prescribes\n      To the Median tribes!\n      From Susa far\n      Thrace feared his war,\n {326}\n  And the islanded cities of Strymon the river\n  Cowered at the clang of his sounding quiver.\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n      And cities of power,\n      Girt with wall and with tower,\n  Far inland away from the frith and the bay,\n      Rejoiced in his sway;\n      The proud roofs that gleam\n      O'er Helle's broad stream,\n  That fringe Propontis' bosomed shores,\n  And where the mouth of hoarse Pontus roars.\n\n STROPHE III.\n  And the sea-swept isles that like sentinels stand\n  Breasting the ports of the Asian land,\n  Lesbos and Chios, with bright wine glowing,\n  And Samos, where groves of green olive are growing,\n  Myconos, Paros, and Naxos together,\n  Studding the main like brother with brother,\n  And Andros that neighbourly lies in the sea,\n      Tenos to thee.\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n  And Lemnos that looks with a doubtful face\n  Half to Asia, half to Thrace,\n  And where Daedalean Icarus fell,\n  And Rhodes and Cnidos of him can tell,\n  And the cities of Cyprus great and small,\n  Paphos and Soli obeyed his call,\n  And the mother whose name the daughter borrows,\n      That caused our sorrows.[f33]\n\n EPODE.\n  And the towns of the Greeks, well peopled and wealthy,\n  He swayed with counsels wise and healthy;\n  And the mustered strength of the East stood by us,\n      A harnessed array,\n      Many-mingled were they,\n  Made one at the call of the mighty Darius.\n    But now the tide hath turned indeed,\n    The gods have worked our woe,\n      By the spear, and the glaive,\n      And the fierce-lashing wave\n    Low lies the might of the Mede!\n\n {327}\n\n   [_Enter_ XERXES.\n\n XERXES.\n Ah wretched me! even so, even so;\n Suddenly, suddenly came the blow,\n And strong was the rod of the merciless god\n   That struck the Persian low!\n   Ah me! Ah me!\n My knees beneath me shake, to see\n These seniors reverend and grey,\n Gathered to meet me on such a day.\n O would that I had been fated to die\n With the brave where destiny found them,\n When they stained with gore the stranger's shore,\n And the darkness of death came round them!\n\n CHORUS.\n O king of the goodly army, for thee\n We weep, and the princes that went with thee,\n Of Persian nobles the glory and crown,\n Whom a god with his scythe mowed down!\n For the halls of Hades, dark and wide,\n Xerxes hath plenished with Persia's pride,\n   And the land laments her sons.\n Hundreds have trodden the path of gloom,\n Thousands of Asia's choicest bloom;\n Tens of thousands, that wielded the bow,\n Are gone to the chambers of death below.\n Ah me! ah me! these strong-limbed men,\n Where be they now that were lusty then?\n All Asia mourns, O King, with thee,\n   And bends the feeble knee.\n\n   [_Here commences, with mournful Oriental music, and with violent\n   gesticulations, a great National Wail over the misfortunes of the\n   Persian people._\n\n STROPHE I.\n XERXES.\n I am the man! I am the man!\n The father of shame! the fount of disgrace!\n Weep me! weep me! once a king,\n Now to my country an evil thing,\n    A curse to my race!\n\n CHORUS.\n     To meet thy returning,\n     A voice of deep mourning,\n     A tune evil-aboding,\n     A cry spirit-goading,\n {328}\n     Of a Maryandine wailer,[n30]\n     Thou shalt hear, thou shalt hear,\n     O King, with many a tear!\n\n ANTISTROPHE I.\n XERXES.\n Lift ye, lift ye, the piercing cry!\n Tune ye, tune ye, the doleful lay!\n For the ancient god of the Persian race,\n That bless'd our fathers, hath turned his face\n    From Xerxes away!\n\n CHORUS.\n     A cry spirit-piercing,\n     The dark tale rehearsing,\n     Of ocean red-heaving,\n     The slaughtered receiving,\n     The cry of a city that wails for her children\n     Thou shalt hear, thou shalt hear,\n     O King, with many a tear!\n\n STROPHE II.\n XERXES.\n    Ares was strong on the side of the foe,\n      The Ionian foe!\n    Bristling with ships he worked our woe.\n      His scythe did mow,\n      The sea, the land,\n      And laid us low\n      On the dismal strand.\n\n LEADER OF CHORUS.[n31]\n    Lift, O lift, the earnest cry!\n    Ask, and he will make reply.\n\n CHORUS.\n    Where is all thy troop of friends,\n     That marched with thee away, away?\n    Where is the might of Pharandaces,\n     Susas and Pelagon, where be they?\n    Where is Datamas, where Agdabatus,\n     Psammis, and Susisc\u00e1nes, say?\n    All that marched from Ecbatana's halls,\n     Where be they? where be they?\n\n ANTISTROPHE II.\n XERXES.\n    From a Tyrian ship they leapt on shore,\n       To leap no more.\n    On the shore of Salamis drenched in gore,\n       The stony shore,\n      They made their bed,\n       To rise no more,\n      The dead! the dead!\n\n {329}\n\n LEADER OF CHORUS.\n    Lift, O lift the earnest cry,\n    Ask, and he will make reply!\n\n CHORUS.\n    Ah! say, where is Pharn\u00fachus, where?\n    Cariomardus, where is he?\n    Where the chief Seualces, where\n    Ael\u00e6us of noble degree?\n    Memphis, Tharybis, and Masistris,\n    Hyst\u00e6chmas, and Artembares, say?\n    All the brave that journeyed to Hellas,\n    Where be they? where be they?\n\n STROPHE III.\n XERXES.\n   Ah me! ah me!\n   They looked on Ogygian Athens,[f34] and straight\n   With one fell swoop down came the Fate,\n   And we left them there with gasp and groan,\n   On the shore of the stranger strewn.\n\n CHORUS.\n   Didst thou leave him there to lie,\n   Batan\u00f3chus' son, thy faithful eye?[f35]\n   Him didst thou leave on Salamis' shores\n   Who counted thy thousands by tens and by scores\n   The strong Oeb\u00e1res and Parthus, were they\n   Left to be lashed by the hostile spray?\n   The Persian princes--woe! woe! woe!\n   Hast thou left to the flood and the foe?\n\n ANTISTROPHE III.\n XERXES.\n   Ah me! ah me!\n   Balefully, balefully with sharp sorrow,\n   Thou dost pierce my inmost marrow;\n   My heart, my heart cries out to hear thee\n   Name the lost friends I loved so dearly!\n\n CHORUS.\n    One other name compels my grief,\n    Xanthus, of Mardian men the chief;\n    Anch\u00e1res the warlike, and lords of the steed\n    Diaexis, Ars\u00e1ces that ride with speed?\n    Lythimnas, Kygdabatas, where be they,\n    And Tolmos eager for the fray?\n    Not, I wis, where they wont to be,\n    Behind the tented car with thee.\n\n STROPHE IV.\n XERXES.\n They are gone, the generals, gone for ever!\n\n {330}\n\n CHORUS.\n Lost, and to be heard of never!\n\n XERXES.\n                                Woe worth the day!\n\n CHORUS.\n    Ye gods! on a public place of woe\n      Ye set us high;\n    And At\u00e9 on the sorrowful show\n      Doth feast her eye.\n\n ANTISTROPHE IV.\n XERXES.\n We are stricken, beyond redemption stricken!\n\n CHORUS.\n Stricken of Heaven! with vengeance stricken!\n\n XERXES.\n And sore dismay!\n\n CHORUS.\n    On an evil day we joined the fray,\n      With the brave Greek name;\n    From Ionian ships a sheer eclipse\n      On Persia came.\n\n STROPHE V.\n XERXES.\n With such an army, struck so dire a blow!\n\n CHORUS.\n So great a power, the Persian power, laid low!\n\n XERXES.\n These rags, the rest of all my state, behold!\n\n CHORUS.\n Ay! we behold.\n\n XERXES.\n This arrow-case thou see'st, this quiver alone--\n\n CHORUS.\n What say'st thou? this alone?\n\n XERXES.\n This arrow-case my all.\n\n CHORUS.\n From store how great, remnant how small!\n\n XERXES.\n With no friends near, abandoned sheer.\n\n CHORUS.\n The Ionian people shrinks not from the spear.\n\n ANTISTROPHE V.\n XERXES.\n They face it well. I saw the deadly fight.\n\n CHORUS.\n The sea-encounter saw'st thou, and the flight?\n\n XERXES.\n Ay! and beholding it I tore my stole.\n\n CHORUS.\n O dole! O dole!\n\n XERXES.\n More dolorous than dole! and worse than worst!\n\n CHORUS.\n O doubly, trebly curst!\n\n XERXES.\n To us annoy, to Athens joy!\n\n CHORUS.\n Our sinews lamed, our vigour maimed!\n\n XERXES.\n Unministered and unattended!\n\n CHORUS.\n Alas! thy friends on Salamis were stranded!\n\n STROPHE VI.\n XERXES.\n    Weep, and while the salt tears flow,\n    To the palace let us go!\n\n CHORUS.\n    We weep, and, while the salt tears flow,\n    To the palace with thee go.\n\n {331}\n\n XERXES.\n Ring the peal both loud and shrill!\n\n CHORUS.\n An ill addition is ill to ill.\n\n XERXES.\n Swell the echo!--high and higher\n Lift the wail to my desire!\n\n CHORUS.\n With echoing sorrow, high and higher,\n We lift the wail to thy desire.\n\n XERXES.\n Heavy came the blow, and stunning.\n\n CHORUS.\n From my eyes the tears are running.\n\n ANTISTROPHE VI.\n XERXES.\n Lift thine arms and sink them low,\n Oaring with the oars of woe![n32]\n\n CHORUS.\n Our arms we lift, dark woes deploring,\n With the oars of sorrow oaring.\n\n XERXES.\n Ring the peal both loud and shrill!\n\n CHORUS.\n Grief to grief, and ill to ill.\n\n XERXES.\n With shrill melody, high and higher,\n Lift the wail to my desire!\n\n CHORUS.\n With thrilling melody, high and higher,\n We lift the wail to thy desire.\n\n XERXES.\n Mingle, mingle sigh with sigh!\n\n CHORUS.\n Wail for wail, and cry for cry.\n\n STROPHE VII.\n XERXES.\n Beat your breasts; let sorrow surge,\n Like a Mysian wailer's dirge!\n\n CHORUS.\n Even as a dirge; a Mysian dirge.\n\n XERXES.\n From thy chin the honor tear,\n Pluck thy beard of snowy hair![f36]\n\n CHORUS.\n We tear, we tear, the snowy hair.\n\n XERXES.\n Lift again the thrilling strain!\n\n CHORUS.\n Again, again, ascends the strain.\n\n ANTISTROPHE VII.\n XERXES.\n From thy breast the white robe tear,\n Make thy wounded bosom bare!\n\n CHORUS.\n The purfled linen, lo! I tear.\n\n XERXES.\n Pluck the honor from thy head,\n Weep in baldness for the dead!\n\n CHORUS.\n I pluck my locks, and weep the dead.\n\n XERXES.\n Weep, weep! till thine eyes be dim!\n\n CHORUS.\n With streaming woe, they swim, they swim\n\n {332}\n\n EPODE.\n XERXES.\n Ring the peal both loud and shrill!\n\n CHORUS.\n Grief to grief, and ill to ill!\n\n XERXES.\n Go to the palace: go in sadness!\n\n CHORUS.\n I tread the ground sure not with gladness.\n\n XERXES.\n Let sorrow echo through the city!\n\n CHORUS.\n From street to street the wailing ditty.\n\n XERXES.\n Sons of Susa, with delicate feet,[n33]\n Gently, gently tread the street!\n\n CHORUS.\n Gently we tread the grief-sown soil.\n\n XERXES.\n The ships, the ships by Ajax isle,\n The triremes worked our ruin sheer.\n\n CHORUS.\n Go. Thy convoy be a tear. [_Exeunt._\n\n[The End]\n\n\n\nNOTES TO THE PLAYS\n\n{333}\n\n\nNOTES TO THE AGAMEMNON\n\n{335}\n\n Note 1 (p. 43).\n \"High on the Atridan's battlements.\"\n\nDUNBAR, SEWELL, and CONNINGTON plead strongly for translating\n\u1f04\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd here as in Eumen. v. 80, thus--\n\n            \"As I lie propped on my arm\n  Upon the Atridan housetop, like a dog.\"\n\nBut this idea has always appeared to be more like the curious conceit of\nan ingenious philologist, than the natural conception of a great poet.\nSupposing the original reading to have been \u1f00\u03bd\u03ad\u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd, the mere accidental\nlengthening of the leg of the \u03bd by a hurried transcriber, would give the\nword the appearance of \u03b3 to a careless scrutinizer; and that this blunder\nwas actually made the metre proves in Eumen. 361, in which passage,\nwhatever SEW. may ingeniously force into it, the meaning _from above_\nis that which is most in harmony with the context. Besides, in such\nmatters, I am conservative enough to have a certain respect for tradition.\n\n\n Note 2 (p. 43).\n \"The masculine-minded who is sovereign here.\"\n\n\"\u1f00\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03cc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd seems to be used here ambiguously, and to be the first hint\nof lurking mischief. The gradual development of the coming evil from\nthese casual hints is one of the chief dramatic beauties of the\nAgamemnon.\"--SEW.\n\n\n Note 3 (p. 43).\n \". . . and lift high-voiced\n The jubilant shout.\"\n\nI have strongly rendered the strong term, \u1f10\u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03b8\u03b9\u03ac\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd, which would\nnecessarily suggest to the Greek the high-keyed notes of the \u03bd\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f44\u03c1\u03b8\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2\nmentioned by Herod I. 22, as sung by Arion to the sailors. I think,\nhowever, it is going beyond the mark to say, with SYMMONS, \"With loud\nacclaim, and Orthian minstrelsy,\" retaining the word \u1f44\u03c1\u03b8\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 which is only\nsuggested, not expressed in the text, and printing it with a capital\nletter, as if it were a sort of music as distinct as the Mysian and\nMaryandine wailing, mentioned in the Persians. Thus, \u1f40\u03c1\u03b8\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03c9\u03ba\u03c5\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n\u03c6\u03c9\u03bd\u03ae, Soph. Antigone, 1206, means nothing but the voice of shrill wails,\nor, as DONALDSON well translates the whole passage,\n\n  \"The voice of lamentation treble-toned,\n  Peals from the porch of that unhallowed cell.\"\n\n\n Note 4 (p. 43).\n \"Thrice six falls to me.\"\n\nThat is, the highest throw in the dice. \"The dice (_tessera_, \u03ba\u03cd\u03b2\u03bf\u03b9), in\ngames of chance among the ancients, were numbered on all the six sides,\nlike the dice now in use; and three were used in playing. Hence arose\nthe proverb, \u1f24 \u03c4\u03c1\u1f76\u03c2 \u1f13\u03be \u1f24 \u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03ba\u03cd\u03b2\u03bf\u03b9, _either three sixes or three aces_,\nall or none.\"--Dr. SMITH's Antiq. Dict. _voce_ TESSERA.\n\n\n Note 5 (p. 43).\n \"Is laid a seal.\"\n\nLiterally, _a huge ox hath gone_, an expression supposed to be derived\nfrom the figure of an ox, as the symbol of wealth, expressed on an old\ncoin; in {336} which case, to put the ox on a man's tongue, would be\nequivalent to tipping it with silver, that is to say, giving money with\ninjunction of secrecy. After the expression became proverbial, it might\nbe used generally to express secrecy without any idea of bribery, which,\nas CON. remarks, is quite foreign to this place, and therefore FRANZ\nis wrong to translate \"_mir verschliesst ein golden Schloss den Mund_.\"\nI follow here, however, HUMBOLDT and SYM. in not introducing the ox\ninto the text, as it is apt to appear ludicrous; and, besides, the\norigin of the expression seems only conjectural.\n\n\n Note 6 (p. 44).\n \"Sceptred kings by Jove's high grace.\"\n\n\u0394\u03b9\u03cc\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd. \"\u1f10\u03ba \u03b4\u03b5 \u0394\u03b9\u03cc\u03c2 \u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bb\u1fc6\u03b5\u03c2,\" says the theogony. Homer also considers\nthe kingly office as having a divine sanction, and Agamemnon on Earth\nrepresents Jupiter in Heaven.--ILIAD I. 279; II. 197. And there can\nbe no doubt that the highest authority in a commonwealth, whether regal\nor democratic, has a divine sanction, so long as it is exercised within\nits own bounds, and according to the laws of natural justice.\n\n\n Note 7 (p. 44).\n \"O'er the lone paths fitful-wheeling.\"\n\nI have endeavoured to combine both the meanings of \u1f10\u03ba\u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9\u03cc\u03b9\u03c2 which have\nany poetical value; that of SYM. _lonely_, and that of KLAUSEN,\n_wandering_, and therefore excessive, which CON. well gives \"_with a\nwandering grief_.\" The same beautiful image is used by Shelley in his\nAdonais.\n\n\n Note 8 (p. 44).\n \". . . The late-chastising Fury.\"\n\nThat the divine vengeance for evil deeds comes not immediately, but\nslowly, at a predestined season, is a doctrine as true in Christian\ntheology as it is familiar to the Heathen dramatists. Therefore,\nTiresias, in the Antigone, prophesies to Creon that \"the avenging\nspirits of Hades and of Heaven, storing up mischief for a future day\n(\u1f51\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03b8\u03cc\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9), would punish him for his crimes. But when the sword\nof Olympian justice is once drawn, then the execution of the divine\njudgment comes swiftly and by a short way, and no mortal can stay it.\"\nAs the same Sophocles says--\n\n                       \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03c4\u03ad\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1\n  \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03ce\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1f78\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b2\u03bb\u03ac\u03b2\u03b1\u03b9.\n                        ANTIG. V. 1104.\n\n\n Note 9 (p. 44).\n \". . . Jove, the high protector\n Of the hospitable laws.\"\n\nAs he is the supreme ruler of the physical, so Jove has a providential\nsupervision of the moral world, and in this capacity is the special\npunisher of those who sin (where human laws are weak to reach), by\ntreachery or ingratitude, as was the case with Paris. This function of\nthe Hellenic Supreme Deity is often piously recognized by Homer, as in\nOdys. XIV. 283--\n\n  \"But he feared the wrath of Jove, lord of the hospitable board,\n  Jove who looks from Heaven in anger on the evil deeds of men.\"\n\n\n Note 10 (p. 44).\n \"The powers whose altars know no fire.\"\n\n\u1f00\u03c0\u03cd\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u1f31\u03b5\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd, \"fireless holy things.\" By \"tireless\" is here meant, so\nfar as I can see, not to be propitiated by fire, persons to whom all\nsacrificial appeals are vain. Whether the Fates or the Furies are meant\nthere are no means of ascertaining; for both agree with the tone of\nfeeling, {337} and with the context; and as they are, in fact,\nfundamentally the same, as powers that always act in unison (Eumen. 165\nand 949), the reader need not much care. It is possible, however, that\nthe whole passage may bear the translation of \"powers wroth for tireless\naltars,\" _i.e._ neglected sacrifices.--So HUMB. and FR. Nor are we\nbound to explain what sacrifices, or by whom neglected; for omission of\nreligious rites, known or unknown, was a cause, always at hand, with the\nancients, to explain any outpouring of divine wrath. BUCKLEY,\nfollowing BAMBERGER and DINDORF, considers that the sacrifice of\nIphigenia is alluded to; which is also probable enough. No commentary\ncan make clear what the poet has purposely left dark.\n\n\n Note. 11 (p. 45).\n \"The oil that knows no malice.\"\n\nWe see in this passage the religious significancy, as it were, of the\noil used in their sacred rites by the ancients; and we may further\nremark, with SEW., that \"the oil used in religious rites was of great\nvalue. Compare the directions given in the Scriptures for making that\nwhich was used in the service of the Tabernacle,\" and, generally--see\nLeviticus c. ii. for a description of the various kinds of sacred cakes\nmade of fine flour and oil used in the sacrificial offerings of the\nJews.\n\n\n Note 12 (p. 45).\n \"I'll voice the strain.\"\n\nI have carefully read all that has been written on this difficult\npassage, and conclude that it is better to rest contented with the\nnatural reference of \u1f00\u03b9\u1f7c\u03bd to the old age of the singer, indicated by\n\u1f10\u03c4\u03b9, and the previous tone of the Anapests, than to venture with FR.,\nHUM., and LINWOOD, on a reference which I cannot but think is more\nfar-fetched. The line \u1f00\u03bb\u03ba\u1f70\u03bd \u03c3\u03cd\u03bc\u03c6\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd is corrupt, and no rigid\nrendering of it ought to be attempted. BUCKLEY in a note almost\ndisclaims his own version.\n\n\n Note 13 (p. 46).\n \"The diverse-minded kings.\"\n\n\u03b4\u03c5\u03cc \u03bb\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b9\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03cd\u03c2. Surely this expression is too distinct and prominent\nto be slurred over lightly, as CON. seems inclined to do. I follow my\nown feeling of a passage so strongly marked by a peculiar phraseology,\nand LINWOOD. It will be observed that, in the Iliad, while Agamemnon\nbehaves in a high and haughty style to Achilles, Menelaus conducts\nhimself everywhere, and especially in the case of Antilochus (xxiii.\n612), with mildness and moderation, so as justly to allow himself the\nboast,\n\n  \"\u1f60\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bc\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f40\u03cd\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u1f78\u03c2 \u1fe6\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03c6\u03b9\u03ac\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u1f70\u03b9 \u1f00\u03c0\u03b7\u03bd\u03ae\u03c2.\"\n\n\n Note 14 (p. 46).\n \"Winged hounds.\"\n\n\"This is one of those extravagances of expression in which the wild\nfancy of \u00c6schylus often indulged, and for which he is rallied by\nAristophanes.\"--HARFORD. I cannot allow this to pass without remark.\nNo expression could be more appropriate to picture that singular\ncombination of the celerity of the bird nature, with the ferocity of the\nquadruped, which is described here, and in the Prometheus, in the speech\nof Mercury. Besides, in the present case the prophetic style would well\nexcuse the boldness of the phrase, were any excuse required. HARFORD\nhas put the tame expression, \"Eagles,\" into his text; but Shelley in his\n\"Prometheus Unbound,\" had not the least hesitation to adopt the Greek\nphrase.\n\n{338}\n\n\n Note 15 (p. 47).\n \"The fair goddess.\"\n\n\u1f01 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u1f70, \"the beauteous one,\"--SEW. An epithet which CON. was surely\nwrong to omit, for it is characteristic. To this M\u00dcLLER has called\nattention in his _Prolegomena zu einer wissensch; Mythologie_ (p. 75;\nedit. 1825) noting the expressions of Sappho, \u1f00\u03c1\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7, _the\nbest and the fairest_, as applied to Artemis, according to the testimony\nof Pausanias, I. 29. The prominence given by \u00c6schylus here to that\nfunction of Artemis, by which, as the goddess of beauty, she is\nprotectress of the wild beasts of the forest, is quite Homeric; as we\nmay see from these three lines of the Odyssey:--\n\n  \"Even as Artemis, dart-rejoicing, o'er the mountains walks sublime,\n  O'er the lofty ridge of Taygetus, o'er the Erymanthian steep,\n  And with gladsome heart beholds the wild boar and the nimble stag.\"\n                                                       VI. 102.\n\nAccording to the elemental origin of mythology, this superintendence\nnaturally arose from the fact, that Artemis was the Moon, and that the\nwild beasts go abroad to seek for prey in the night time.\n\n\n Note 16 (p. 47).\n \"I pray thee, P\u00e6an, may she never send.\"\n\nIn the original \u0399\u03ae\u1f34\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u1fb6\u03bd\u03b1, a well-known epithet of Apollo, as in the\nopening chorus of the \u0152dipus Tyrannos, \u0399\u03ae\u03ca\u03ad \u0394\u03ac\u03bb\u03b9\u03b5 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03ac\u03bd, containing an\ninvocation of the Delphic god, quoted by PEILE. From the practice of\nfrequently invoking the name of the gods in the public hymns, as in the\nmodern Litanies, the name of the divine person passed over to the song\nthat voiced his praises--(Iliad I. 473)--and thence became the\nappellation--as in the modern word p\u00e6an--for a hymn generally--(Proclus\nChrestom. Gaisford. Hephaest., p. 419)--or at least a hymn of jubilee,\nsadness and sorrow of every kind being naturally abhorrent from the\nworship of the beneficent sun god (p. 72, above).\n\n\n Note 17 (p. 47).\n \"Stern-purposed waits the child-avenging wrath.\"\n\nThis passage is obscure in the original, and, no doubt, purposely so,\nas became the prophetic style. I do not, therefore, think we are bound,\nwith SYM., to give the\n\n  Child-avenging wrath\n\na special and distinctly pronounced reference to Clytemnestra, displeased\nwith Agamemnon for allowing the sacrifice of Iphigenia--\n\n  \"Homeward returning see her go,\n  And sit alone in sullen woe;\n  While child-avenging anger waits\n  Guileful and horrid at the palace gates.\"\n\nThough I have no doubt she is alluded to among other Furies that haunt\nthe house of Atreus; and the poet very wisely supplies here a motive. So\nWELL., and LIN.; and my version, though free, I hope does nothing\nmore than express this idea of a retributive wrath brooding through long\nyears over a doomed family, and ever and anon, when apparently laid,\nbreaking out with new manifestations--an idea, however, so expressed in\nthe present passage that, as Dr. Peile says, \"No translation can\nadequately set it forth.\"\n\n\n Note 18 (p. 47).\n \"Jove, or what other name.\"\n\nAfter the above sublime introduction follows the Invocation of Jove, as\nthe supreme over-ruling Deity, who alone, by his infinite power and\nwisdom, is able to lead the believing worshipper through the intricacies\nof a seemingly {339} perplexed Providence. The passage is one of the\nfinest in ancient poetry, and deserves to be specially considered by\ntheological students. The reader will note carefully the reverential awe\nwith which the Chorus names the god invoked--a feeling quite akin to\nthat anxiety which takes possession of inexperienced people when they\nare called on to address written or spoken words to persons of high\nrank. Many instances of this kind are quoted from the ancients by\nVICTORIUS, in STANLEY's notes, by SYM., and by PEILE. The most\nfamiliar instance to which I can refer the general reader is in the\nsecond chapter of Livy's first book:--\n\n  \"Situs est \u00c6neas, quemcumque eum dici jus fasque est, super Numicium\n  flumen. Jovem indigetem appellant.\"\n\nIf in so obvious a matter a profound mythologist like Welcker--(Tril.,\np. 104)--should have found in this language of deepest reverence signs\nof free-thinking and irony, we have only another instance of the\ntyrannous power of a favourite idea to draw facts from their natural\ncohesion, that they may circle round the nucleus of an artificial\ncrystallization. Sewell has also taken up the same idea with regard to\nthe scepticism of this passage; and in him, no less, must we attribute\nthis notion to the influence of a general theory with regard to the\nreligious opinions of \u00c6schylus, rather than to any criticism which the\npresent passage could possibly warrant.\n\n\n Note 19 (p. 47).\n \"With all-defiant valour brimming o'er.\"\n\nA very literal rendering of the short, but significant, original \u03c0\u03b1\u03bc\u03bc\u03b1\u03c7\u1ff3\n\u03b8\u03c1\u1f70\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9 \u03b2\u03c1\u03cd\u03c9\u03bd, on which SYM. remarks that \"it presents the magnificent\nand, to us, incongruous image of a giant all-steeled for battle, and\nbearing his boldness like a tree bearing its blossoms.\" But there is no\nreason that I know for confining \u03b2\u03c1\u03cd\u03c9 here to its special use in Iliad\nXVII. 56 (\u0392\u03c1\u03cd\u03b5\u03b9 \u1f02\u03c5\u03b8(\u03b5)\u03b9 \u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03ba\u1ff3) and other such passages. It rather\nsuggests generally, as SEW. says, \"ideas of violence, exuberance, and\nuproar,\" like \u03b2\u03c1\u03c5\u03ac\u03b6\u03c9\u03bd in Suppl. 856. He has accordingly given\n\n  \"With all-defying spirit, like a boiling torrent roaring,\"\n\nfrom which I have borrowed one word, with a slight alteration, but\nconsider myself safer in not tying down the general word \u03b2\u03c1\u03cd\u03c9\u03bd, to the\nspecial case of a _torrent_ any more than of a _tree_. The recent\nGermans--\"_Im Gef\u00fchle stolzer Kraft_\" (FR.), and \"_allbew\u00e4hrteu\nTrotzes hehr_\"--are miserably tame after Humboldt's admirable\n\"_strotzend kampfbegierig frech._\" As to the meaning of the passage, the\nthree celestial dynasties of Uranus, Saturn, and Jove are plainly\nindicated, though who first threw this light on a passage certainly\nobscure, I cannot say. So far as I can see, it was SCHUTZ. The\nScholiast (A in BUTLER) talks of the Titans and Typhon, which is, at\nall events, on the right scent. Neither ABRESCH nor STAN. seem to\nhave understood the passage; and POTTER, disdaining to take a hint\nfrom the old Scholiast, generalises away about humanity.\n\n\n Note 20 (p. 48).\n \"Our hearts with gracious force.\"\n\nThe \u03b2\u03b9\u03b1\u03af\u03c9\u03c2 certainly refers to the \u03c7\u03ac\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2, and not to the \u03b7\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd, with\nthe diluted sense of _pollenter_ given it by WELL.; and in this view\nI have no objection, with BLOMFIELD and CON., to read \u03b2\u03af\u03b1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2. I am\nnot, however, so sure as CON. that the common reading is wrong.\n\u03b2\u03b9\u03b1\u03af\u03c9\u03c2 may be an abrupt imperfectly enunciated expression (and there\nare not a few such in \u00c6schylus) for _exercising_ or _using compulsion_.\nPoets are not always the most accurate of grammarians.\n\n{340}\n\n\n Note 21 (p. 48).\n \"In Aulis tides hoarse refluent.\"\n\nThe harbour of Aulis, opposite Euboea the district still called\n_Ulike_--(Wordsworth's Athens and Attica, c. I.). In narrow passages of\nthe sea, as at Corryvreckan, on the west coast of Scotland, there are\napt to be strong eddies and currents; and this is specially noted of the\nchannel between Aulis and Chalcis, by Livy (XXVIII. 6. _haud facile alia\ninfestior classi statio est_) and other passages adduced by BUT. in\nPEILE.\n\n\n Note 22 (p. 49).\n \"Is the gods' right. So be it.\"\n\nI am unable to see how the translation of this passage, given by SYM.\nagrees with the context and with the spirit of Agamemnon's conduct, and\nthe view of it taken by the poet. SYM. says--\n\n  \"They're not her parents; they may call aloud\n  For the dire rite to smoothe the stormy flood\n  All fierce and thirsty for a virgin's blood.\"\n\nAnd DROYSEN, though more literally, says the same thing--\"_Dass sie\ndas windstillende S\u00fchnopfer, das jungfra\u00fcliche Blut heischen und\nschreien, ist es denn recht? Nein, sieg das Gute!_\" and Fr. also takes\n\u03b8\u03ad\u03bc\u03b9\u03c2 out of Agamemnon's mouth, and gives it to the Greeks.\n\"_Finden sie recht. Zum Heil sey's!_\" Perhaps the reason for preferring\nthis version with the Germans lies in giving too great a force and\nprominence to the \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03ad\u03b3\u03bd\u03c9 in the following strophe. But this may\nrefer only to the change of a father's instinctive feelings (expressed\nby silence only in this ode) to the open resolution of making common\ncause with the diviner and the chieftain.\n\n\n Note 23 (p. 49).\n \". . . Unblissful blew the gale\n That turned the father's heart.\"\n\nThese words include both the \u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03b1\u03af\u03b1\u03bd and the \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03ad\u03b3\u03bd\u03c9 of the original.\nI join \u03b2\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 or \u03b2\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 with the following clause, the sense being\nthe same according to either reading. The verb \u03b8\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03cd\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9, according to\nCON.'s very just reasoning, seems grammatically to require \u03b2\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2,\nthough FR. says, with a reference to Bernhardy, that \u03b2\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 may be\ndefended. SYM. has given a translation altogether different; though\nhe admits that the sense given in my version, and in all the modern\nversions, is the most obvious one. His objection to connecting \u03b2\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2\nwith the following sentence I do not understand.\n\n\n Note 24 (p. 49).\n \". . . consecrate\n His ships for Troy.\"\n\n\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1 \u03bd\u03b1\u1ff6\u03bd, _First fruits_, literally, as SEW. has it, will\nscarcely do here; \"first piation of the wind-bound fleet\" of SYM. is\nvery good. HUMB., DROY., and FR. all use _Weihe_ in different\ncombinations; a word which seems to suit the present passage very well,\nand I have accordingly adopted the corresponding English term.\n\n\n Note 25 (p. 49).\n \"Where prone and spent she lies.\"\n\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u1f76 \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u1ff7 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c9\u03c0\u1fc6, literally \"_prone with her whole soul;_\" \"_body and\nsoul,_\" as CON. has it. The words are so arranged that it is\nimpossible to determine to what \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u1f76 \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u1ff3 refers, whether to the\ngeneral action \u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd, or to the special position \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c9\u03c0\u1fc6. Sewell's\nremark that \"there is far more intensity of thought in applying \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u1f76\n\u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u1ff7 to \u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd,\" may be turned the other way. The phrase certainly must\ngive additional intensity to whichever {341} word it is joined with. The\nact itself is sufficiently cruel, without adding any needless traits of\nferocity.\n\n\n Note 26 (p. 49).\n \". . . her saffron robe\n Sweeping the ground.\"\n\n\u03ba\u03c1\u03cc\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b2\u03b1\u03c6\u1f70\u03c2 \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03ad\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c7\u03ad\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1; \"dropping her saffron veil,\" says SYM.;\nperhaps rightly, but I see no ground for certainty. The application of\n\u03ba\u03c1\u03cc\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b2\u03b1\u03c6\u1f70\u03c2 to the drops of blood seems a modern idea, which has\nproceeded from some critic who had not poetry enough to understand the\napplication of \u03c7\u03ad\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 to anything but a liquid. Except in peculiar\ncircumstances, the word \u03ba\u03c1\u03cc\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2, as CON. justly observes (see note 73\nbelow), cannot be applied to the blood; and, in the present passage, it\nis plain the final work of the knife is left purposely undescribed.\n\n\n Note 27 (p. 49).\n \"The virgin strain they heard.\"\n\nI cannot sufficiently express my astonishment that HUMB., DROY., and\nFR., as if it were a point of Germanism, have all conspired to wrench\nthe \u1f10\u03c4\u03af\u03bc\u03b1 out of its natural connection in this beautiful passage, and\nto apply the whole concluding clause to the self-devotion of Iphigenia\nat the altar, rather than to her dutiful obedience at the festal scene\njust described. The fine poetical feeling of SYM. protested against\nthis piece of tastelessness. \"These commentators,\" says he, \"seem to\nhave been ignorant of the poet's intention, who raises interest, pity,\nand honor to the height, by presenting Iphigenia at the altar, and\nunveiling herself preparatory to her barbarous execution, on which point\nof the picture he dwells, contrasting her present situation with her\nformer happiness, her cheerfulness, her songs, and the festivities in\nher father's house.\" It is strange that the Germans do not see that\n\u1f14\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03b9\u1ff6\u03bd\u03b1 is the most unfortunate of all terms to apply to the\ncondition of Agamemnon, as a sacrificer; while it is most pertinent to\nhis previous fortunes, before his evil destiny began to be revealed in\nthe sacrifice of his beloved daughter.\n\n\n Note 28 (p. 50).\n                           \". . . What boots\n To forecast woe, which, on no wavering wing.\"\n\nIt is both mortifying and consoling to think that all the learning which\nhas been expended on this corrupt passage from \u0394\u03af\u03ba\u03b1 down to \u1f00\u03c5\u03b3\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2,\nbrings out nothing more than what already lies in the old Scholiast. As\nto the details of the text, I wish I could say, with the same confidence\nas CON., that WELL. and HER.'s \u03c3\u03cd\u03bd\u03bf\u03c1\u03b8\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03c5\u03b3\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2 is a bit more\ncertain than FR.'s \u03c3\u03cd\u03bd\u03b1\u03c1\u03b8\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2, which, however, I am inclined to\nprefer, from its agreeing better with the general sombre hue of the ode.\n\n\n Note 29 (p. 50).\n           \"Ever swift\n Though wingless, Fame.\"\n\n\u1f04\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 is an epithet by negation after a fashion not at all uncommon in\nthe Greek drama; the meaning being, _though fame is not a bird, and has\nno wings, yet it flies as fast as if it had_. The idea that \u1f04\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 is\nthe same as \u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2 I agree with CON. is the mere expedient of\ndespair. I have not the slightest doubt that Rumour is called a\n_wingless messenger_, just as Dust is called a _voiceless_ messenger in\nthe Seven against Thebes. SYM. is too subtle in explaining \u1f04\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2\nafter the analogy of the beautiful simile in Virgil, \u00c6neid V. 215, _so\nswift as not to appear to move its wings_.\n\n{342}\n\n\n Note 30 (p. 51).\n \". . . He from Ida shot the spark.\"\n\nThe geographical mountain points in the following famous descriptive\npassages are as follows: (1) Mount Ida, near Troy; (2) the Island of\nLemnos, in the \u00c6gean, half-way between Asia and Europe, due West; (3)\nMount Athos, the South point of the most Easterly of the three peninsulas\nthat form the South part of Macedonia; (4) a station somewhere betwixt\nAthos and B\u0153otia, which the poet has characterised only by the name of\nthe Watchman Macistus; (5) the Messapian Mount, West of Anthedon in the\nNorth of B\u0153otia; (6) Mount Cith\u00e6ron, in the South of B\u0153otia; (7) Mount\nAegiplanctus, between Megara and Corinth; (8) Mount Arachne, in Argolis,\nbetween Tiryns and Epidaurus, not far from Argos.\n\n\n Note 31 (p. 51).\n                 \". . . the forward strength\n Of the far-travelling lamp strode gallantly.\"\n\nI have not had the courage with SYM. to reject the \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f21\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u1f74\u03bd and\nsupply a verb. The phrase is not colloquial, as he says, but occurs, as\nWELL. points out, in Prom. 492. MEDWYN has \"crossing the breast of\nocean with a speed plumed by its joy.\" That there is some blunder in the\npassage the want of a verb seems to indicate, but, with our present\nmeans, it appears wise to let it alone; not, like FR., from a mere\nconjecture, to introduce \u1f30\u03c7\u03b8\u1fe6\u03c2 for \u1f30\u03c3\u03c7\u03cd\u03c2, and translate--\n\n  \"Und fern hin dass der Wanderflamme heller Schein,\n  In lust die Fische auf des Meeres R\u00fccken trieb.\"\n\nAre we never to see an end of these extremely ingenious, but very useless\nconjectures?\n\n\n Note 32 (p. 51).\n \"Weaving the chain unbroken.\"\n\n\u03bc\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9\u03b6\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9--HEATH. The true reading not to be discovered.\n\n\n Note 33 (p. 51).\n \". . . a mighty beard of flame.\"\n\nThe Hindoos in their description of the primeval male who, with a\nthousand heads and a thousand faces, issued from the mundane egg, use\nthe same image--\"the hairs of his body are trees and plants, of his head\nthe clouds, _of his beard, lightning_, and his nails are\nrocks.\"--Colonel VANS KENNEDY, Ch. VIII. Our translators generally\n(except SEW. and CON.) have eschewed transplanting this image\nliterally into English; and even the Germans have stumbled, FR. giving\nFeuersa\u00fcle most unhappily. DROY., when he says \"Schweife,\" gives the\ntrue idea, but I am not afraid to let the original stand.\n\n\n Note 34 (p. 51).\n \". . . the headlands that look down\n On the Saronic gulf.\"\n\nI see no proof that \u03c0\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd ever means anything but a promontory, and so\ncannot follow CON. in reading \u03ba\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c0\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd.\n\n\n Note 35 (p. 51).\n \"Each from the other fired with happy news,\" etc.\n\nAn allusion to the famous \u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03c0\u03b1\u03b4\u03b7\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03af\u03b1, or torch race, practised by the\nGreeks at the Parthenon and other festivals. In this race a burning\ntorch was passed from hand to hand, so that, notwithstanding the extreme\ncelerity of the movement, the flame might not go out. See the article by\nLIDDELL in the _Dict. Antiq._ where difficulties in the detail are\nexplained.\n\n{343}\n\n\n Note 36 (p. 52).\n \"To their hearts' content.\"\n\nThe reading of WELL. and the MS. \u1f61\u03c2 \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2 will never do, though\nMED. certainly has shown genius by striking out of it\n\n  \"Soundly as mariners when the danger's past\n  They sleep.\"\n\nThe connection decidedly requires \u1ff6\u03c2 (\u03b5)\u03c5\u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2, neither more nor less\nthan \"to their hearts' content,\" as I have rendered it. But one would\nalmost be reconciled to the sad state of the text of \u00c6schylus, if every\ndifficulty were cleared with such a masterly bound as MED. here\ndisplays. The Germans, FR. and DR., incapable, or not liking such\ncapers, adhere to the simple (\u03b5)\u03c5\u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2. HUMB., according to his\ngeneral practice, follows the captainship of Hermann, and gives\n\"G\u00f6tterngleich (\u1f61\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2).\"\n\n\n Note 37 (p. 52).\n \". . . Happy if the native gods\n They reverence.\"\n\nThis sober fear of the evil consequences of excess in the hour of\ntriumph, so characteristic a trait of ancient poetry, and purposely\nintroduced here by Clytemnestra to serve her own purpose, finds an apt\nillustration in the conduct of Camillus at the siege of Veii, as\nreported by Livy (V. 21)--\n\n  \"Ad pr\u00e6dam miles permissu dictatoris discurrit. Qu\u00e6 quum ante oculos\n  ejus aliquantum spe atque opinione major majorisque pretii rerum\n  ferretur, dicitur, manus ad c\u0153lum tollens precatus esse, ut si cui\n  deorum hominumque nimia sua fortuna populique Romani videretur, ut\n  eam invidiam lenire quam minimo suo privato incommodo, publicoque\n  populo Romano liceret.\"\n\n\n Note 38 (p. 52).\n \"Having turned the goal.\"\n\nThe reader is aware that in the ancient racecourse there was a _meta_,\nor goal, at each end of the course, round which the racers turned round\n(_metaque fervidis evitata rotis_.--Hor. Carm. I. 1; and \u00c6neid V. 129).\n\n\n Note 39 (p. 52).\n \"If they have sinned.\"\n\n\u1f00\u03bc\u03c0\u03bb\u03b1\u03ba\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2. In defence of this reading, which, with WELL., I prefer,\nCON. has a very excellent note, to which I refer the critical reader.\nFR., following AHRENS (as he often does), makes a bold transposition\nof the lines, but the sense remains pretty much the same. As to the\nguilt incurred by the Greeks, spoken of here and in the previous lines,\nthe poet has put it, as some palliation of her own contemplated deed,\ninto the mouth of Clytemnestra, but in perfect conformity also with the\nHomeric theology, which supposes that suffering must always imply guilt.\nThus in the Odyss. III. 130-135, old Nestor explains to Telemachus:--\n\n  \"But when Priam's high-perched city by the Greeks was captured, then\n  In their swift ships homeward sailing, they were scattered by a god;\n  To the Greeks great Jove had purposed in his heart a black return,\n  For not all had understanding, and not all observant lived\n  Of Justice.\"\n\n\n Note 40 (p. 53).\n \"The gods are blind.\"\n\nI cannot here forbear recalling to the reader's recollection a similar\npassage in Milton:--\n\n  \"Just are the ways of God\n  And justifiable to men;\n  Unless there be who think not God at all.\n  If any be, they walk obscure:\n  For of such doctrine never was there school,\n  But the heart of the fool,\n  And no man therein doctor but himself.\"\n                       --SAMSON AGONISTES.\n\n{344}\n\n\n Note 41 (p. 53).\n \"Self-will fell At\u00e9's daughter.\"\n\nI have here paraphrased a little the two lines--\n\n  \u03b2\u03b9\u1fb6\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u1fbd\u1f01 \u03c4\u03ac\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1 \u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03b8\u1f7c\n  \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03cc\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f04\u03c6\u03b5\u03c1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f0c\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2--\n\nin which two evil powers are personified--_Ate_, destruction, and\n_Peitho_, persuasion, which here must be understood of that evil\nself-persuasion, by which, in the pride of self-will and vain\nconfidence, a man justifies his worst deeds to himself, and is driven\nrecklessly on to destruction. The case of Napoleon, in his Russian\nexpedition, is in point. What follows shows that Paris is meant. As to\nthe strange, truly \u00c6schylean compound, \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03cc\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2, CON. says well,\nthat the simple \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 means \"one who joins in a preliminary vote,\"\nand, of course, the compound is, as LIN. has it, a \"forecounselling\nchild.\"\n\n\n Note 42 (p. 54).\n \"Even as a boy in wanton sport.\"\n\nThere is a great upheaping of incongruous images in this passage for\nwhich, perhaps, the poet may be blamed; as the one prevents the other\nfrom coming with a vivid and distinct impression on the mind. This image\nof the boy chasing the butterfly is, however, the one which places the\ninconsiderate love of Paris and Helen most distinctly before us; and it\ncomes, therefore, with peculiar propriety, preceded by the more general\nand vague images, and immediately before the mention of the offender.\n\n\n Note 43 (p. 54).\n \"The prophets of the house loud wailing.\"\n\n\u03b4\u03cc\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u1fc6\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9. I have retained the original word here, because it\nappears most appropriate to the passage; but the reader must be warned,\nby a reference to the familiar example in Epist. Tit. I. 12, that with\nthe ancients the characters of poet and prophet were confounded in a\nway that belongs not at all to our modern usage of the same words.\nEpimenides of Crete, in fact, to whom the Apostle Paul alludes, was not\nonly a prophet, but also a physician, like Apollo (\u1f31\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03cc\u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2, Eumen.\nv. 62). In the same way the Hebrew word _Nabah_, prophetess, is applied\nto Miriam, Exod. xv. 20; and it may well be, that \u00c6schylus, in the true\nspirit of these old times, and also following the deep religious\ninspiration of his Muse, alludes here to a character more sacred than\nthe Homeric \u1f00\u03bf\u03b9\u03b4\u1f78\u03c2, _Minstrel_ or _Bard_, and this distinction should,\nof course, be preserved in the translation. SEW. with great happiness,\nin my opinion, has given \"the bards of fate;\" but it were useless to\npress any such nice matter in this passage, especially when we call to\nmind the high estimation in which the Homeric \u1f00\u03bf\u03b9\u03b4\u1f78\u03c2 stands in the\nOdyss., and the remarkable passage, III. 267, where a minstrel is\nrepresented as appointed by Agamemnon to counsel and control Clytemnestra\nin his absence, pretty much as a family confessor would do in a modern\nRoman Catholic family.\n\n\n Note 44 (p. 54).\n \"He silent stood in sadness, not in wrath.\"\n\nHere commences one of the most difficult, and at the same time one of\nthe most beautiful passages in the Agamemnon. The words,\n\n  \u03c0\u03ac\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c3\u03b9\u03b3\u1fb6\u03c2\u1fbd, \u1f04\u03c4\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2, \u1f00\u03bb\u03cc\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2\n  \u1f05\u03b4\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c6\u1f10\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u1f30\u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd,\n\nare so corrupt, that a translator is quite justified in striking that\nsense out of them which is most fit on grounds of taste, and in this\nview I have little hesitation in adopting Hermann's reading,\n\n{345}\n\n  \u03c0\u03ac\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c3\u03b9\u03b3\u1f70\u03c2 (\u03c3\u03b9\u03b3\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2) \u1f04\u03c4\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bb\u03cc\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2\n    \u1f04\u03bb\u03b7\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c6\u03b5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u1f30\u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd;\n\nmodified thus by Orelli--\n\n  \u1f04\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c6\u03b5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1\u03bd \u1f30\u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd--(_See Wellauer_).\n\nWith a reference to Menelaus and not to Helen. In doing so, I am not at\nall moved by any merely philological consideration; but I may observe\nthat the remark made by WELL., PEILE, and CON., that the words\ncannot refer to Menelaus, because he has not yet been mentioned, can\nhave little weight in the present chorus, in the first antistrophe of\nwhich Paris is first alluded to, by dim indications, and afterwards\ndistinctly by name. This method of merely hinting at a person, before\nnaming him, is common in all poetry, but peculiarly characteristic of\n\u00c6schylus. Besides, it is impossible to deny that the \u03c0\u03cc\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2 in the next\nline refers to Menelaus, and can refer to no other. CON., who refers\nthe words to Helen, translates thus--\n\n  \"She stands in silence, scorned, yet unrebuking,\n  Most sweetly sorrowfully looking\n  Of brides that have from wedlock fled;\"\n\nto which I have this further objection, that it is contrary to the poet's\nintention and to the moral tone of the piece, to paint the fair fugitive\nwith such an engaging look of reluctance to leave her husband; on the\ncontrary, he blames her in the strongest language, \u1f04\u03c4\u03bb\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bb\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b1, and\nrepresents her as leaving Argos with all the hurry of a common elopement,\nwhere both parties are equally willing for the amorous flight, \u1fce\u0392\u03ad\u03b2\u03b1\u03ba\u03b5\n\u03c1\u03af\u03bc\u03c6\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03c0\u03c5\u03bb\u1fb6\u03bd. After which our fancy has nothing to do but imagine her\ngiving her sails to the wind as swiftly as possible, and bounding gaily\nover the broad back of ocean with her gay paramour. In this connection,\nto say \"_she_ STANDS,\" appears quite out of place. In my view of this\n\"very difficult and all but desperate passage\" (PEILE) I am supported\nby SYM. in an able note, which every student ought to read, by MED.\nand SEW., BUCK., HUMB., and DROYS. Neither is FR. against me,\nbecause, though following a new reading of Hermann,\n\n  \u03c0\u03ac\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c3\u03b9\u03b3\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c4\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03b4\u03cc\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2\n  \u1fbd\u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd,\n\nhe avoids all special allusions to Menelaus, it is evident that the\npicture of solitary desolation given in his translation can have no\nreference but to the palace of the king of Sparta--\n\n  \"Ein Schweigen, sieh! voll von Schmach, nicht gebrochen church\n  Vorwurf, beherrscht die Einsamkeit.\"\n\n\n Note 45 (p. 56).\n \"The bolt from on high shall blast his eye.\"\n\n\"PEILE greatly admires Klausen's interpretation\"--\n\n  \"Jacitur oculis a Jove fulmen,\"\n\nbut the passages which the latter adduce are not to the point. The\nGreeks do not attribute any governing virtue to the eyes of the gods,\nfurther than this, that the immortal beings who are supposed to govern\nhuman affairs must see, and take cognizance of them. Jupiter's eye may\nglare like lightning, but the real lightning is always hurled from his\nhand. Compare Soph. Antiq. 157. The words \u03b2\u03ac\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f44\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u039b\u03b9\u03cc\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd can\nbear no other sense naturally than \"is flashed in the eyes from\nJove.\"--CON.\n\n\n Note 46 (p. 57).\n \"Where women wield the spear.\"\n\nThe spear (\u03b4\u03cc\u03c1\u03c5) is with the Greeks the regular emblem of war, as\nthe sword is with us; so a famous warrior in Homer is \u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03bb\u03c5\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2, a\nfamous {346} spearman, and a warrior generally \u1f00\u03b9\u03c7\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u1f74\u03c2. Further, as\nin the heroic or semi-civilized age, authority presents itself, not\nunder the form of law and peaceful order, so much as under that of force\nand war, the spear comes to be a general emblem of authority; so in the\npresent passage. St. Paul's language, Rom. xiii. 4, _the magistrate\nweareth not the sword_ (\u03bc\u03ac\u03c7\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd) _in vain_, gives the modern\ncounterpart of the \u00c6schylean phraseology.\n\n\n Note 47 (p. 57).\n \". . . our healer from much harm.\"\n\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03ce\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2. I have no hesitation whatever in leaving WELL. here, much as\nI generally admire his judicious caution. \"\u1f08\u03b3\u03ce\u03bd\u03af\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 in the next line,\"\nsays CON., \"at once convicts the old reading of tautology, and\naccounts for its introduction.\" When a clear cause for a corrupt reading\nis shown by a natural wandering of the eye, I see no wisdom in\nobstinately adhering to a less appropriate reading. The emendation\noriginated, according to PEILE, with a writer in the Classical\nJournal; and was thence adopted by SCHOLEFIELD, PEILE, CON., and\nFRANZ, who names Ahrens as its author. LINW. also calls it \"very\nprobable.\"\n\n\n Note 48 (p. 57).\n \". . . ye sun-fronting gods.\"\n\n\u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03c4\u03ae\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9. MED. has given the words a special application--\n\n  \"Ye images of our gods that stand\n  Before the eastern gate.\"\n\nBut I suppose the reference may be only to the general custom of\nplacing the statues of the gods in open public places, and in\npositions where they might front the sun.--See Hesychius and Tertullian,\nquoted by STAN.\n\n\n Note 49 (p. 58).\n \"His pledge is forfeited.\"\n\nI agree with CON. that the juridical language used in the previous\nline fixes down the meaning of \u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 here beyond dispute; which\nmeaning, indeed--\u1f10\u03bd\u03ad\u03c7\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, a _pledge_ or _gage_, is that given by the\nScholiast on Iliad XI. 674. STAN. enounces this clearly in his Notes;\nonly there is no need of supposing, with him, that the gage means Helen,\nor any one else. 'Tis merely a juridical way of saying that Paris was\nworsted in battle--he has forfeited his caution-money.\n\n\n Note 50 (p. 59).\n \"These spoils, a shining grace, there to remain\n An heritage for ever.\"\n\nThe word \u1f00\u03c1\u03c7\u03b1\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd in this version seems most naturally to have a\nprospective reference, to express which a paraphrase seems necessary in\nEnglish; but a similar use of _Vetustas_ is common in Latin.--Cic.\nAttic. XIV. 9, pro-Mil. 35. Virgil's \u00c6neid X. 792. SEW. takes it\nretrospectively; thus\n\n  \"Unto their ancient homes in Hellas land\n   A pride and joy.\"\n\n\n Note 51 (p. 60).\n \"No more than dyer's art can tincture brass.\"\n\n\u03c7\u03b1\u03bb\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b2\u03b1\u03c6\u1f70\u03c2. One cannot dye a hard impenetrable substance, like copper\nor brass, by the mere process of steeping, as may be done with a soft\nsubstance like cloth. Clytemnestra seems to say that her ears are\nimpenetrable in the same way. So SYM., CON., SEW.; and I have\nlittle doubt as to this being the true meaning--but should we not read\n\u03c7\u03b1\u03bb\u03ba\u1f78\u03c2 _more than the brass knows dyeing?_\n\n{347}\n\n\n Note 52 (p. 60).\n \"Far from the honors of the blissful gods.\"\n\n\u03c7\u03c9\u03c1\u1f76\u03c2 \u1f21 \u03c4\u03b9\u03bc\u1f74 \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd. I translate so, simply because this rendering seems\nto lie most naturally in the words, when interpreted by the immediately\npreceding context. The other translation which I originally had here,\n\n  \"To every god his separate hour belongs\n  Of rightful honor,\"\n\nseems to spring from the contrast of the \"p\u00e6an to the Furies\" mentioned\nbelow, with the hymns of joyful thanksgivings to the gods that suit the\npresent occasion. But when the term \"gods\" is used generally on a joyful\noccasion, it seems more agreeable to Greek feeling to interpret it as\nexcluding than as including the Furies. The hymns in the Eumenides show\nthat they were considered as a dreadful power in the background, rather\nthan prominent figures in the foreground of Hellenic polytheism. But,\nhowever this be, the more obvious key to such a doubtful passage is\nsurely that of the train of thought which immediately precedes.\n\n\n Note 53 (p. 61).\n \"Fire and the sea, sworn enemies of old,\" etc.\n\nThis passage, in the original, boils with a series of high-sounding\nwords, \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03ba\u03cd\u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1, \u03ba\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03cd\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9, \u1f40\u03bc\u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u03c4\u03cd\u03c0\u1ff3, extremely characteristic\nboth of the general genius of the poet and the special subject of poetic\ndescription. I have endeavoured, according to the best of my ability,\nnot to lose a single line of this powerful painting; but, as it is more\nthan likely I may have missed some point, or brought it feebly out, I\nwould refer the reader to the able versions of SYM. and MED., which\nare very good in this place. About the \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bc\u1f74\u03bd, whether it refer to\nthe whole tempest, as SYM. makes it, or to a part of it (\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03cc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c2) as\nin my version, there can be no doubt, I think, that here \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bc\u1f74\u03bd can mean\nnothing but \"pilot,\" as in the Persian \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bc\u03ac\u03bd\u03c9\u03c1 means a commander. There\ncan be no objection to retaining the word \"shepherd,\" but I do not like\nCON.'s \"demon-swain\" at all. It seems to me to bring in a foreign, and\nsomewhat of a Gothic idea.\n\n\n Note 54 (p. 61).\n \"That ocean hell.\"\n\n\u1f05\u03b4\u03b7\u03bd \u03c0\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, I took this from MED. and give him a thousand thanks for\nsupplying me with so literal, and yet so admirable a translation. SYM.\nis also excellent here, though, as usual, too fine--\n\n  \"O how the day looked lovely, when ashore\n  We crawled, escaped from the watery jaws\n  Of a sea death.\"\n\n\n Note 55 (p. 61).\n \"Far-labouring o'er the loosely-driving main.\"\n\nThere is a fine word in the original here, \u03c3\u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5, easily and\nadmirably rendered by FR.--zersta\u00fcbt--but to express which I have\nfound myself forced to have recourse to a cognate idea. The main idea\nis dispersion and diffusion, _to drive about like dust_, or, perhaps,\nthe meaning may be, _to rub down to dust_.--See Passow. In the present\npassage the context makes the former meaning preferable.\n\n\n Note 56 (p. 61).\n \"By Jove's devising.\"\n\nThe reader will note here the supreme controlling power of Jove,\nforming, as it were, a sort of monotheistic keystone to the many-stoned\narch of Hellenic Polytheism. \u039c\u03b7\u03c7\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2 \u0394\u03b9\u1f78\u03c2 here is just equivalent to\nour phrase _by Divine interposition_, or, _by the interposition of\nDivine Providence_, or the supreme moral superintendence of Jove.\n\n{348}\n\n\n Note 57 (p. 62).\n \"Helen the taker!\"\n\nThere is an etymological allusion in the original here, concerning\nwhich see the Notes to the Prometheus Bound, v. 85. The first syllable\nof Helen's name in Greek means to take, from \u1f01\u03b9\u03c1\u03ad\u03c9 2 aor (\u1f11)\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd. \"No\none who understands the deep philosophy of \u00c6schylus and his oriental\nturn of thought will suspect the play upon the name of Helen to be a\nfrigid exercise of wit,\" says SEW., who has transmuted the pun into\nEnglish in no bad fashion thus--\n\n  \"Helen, since as suited well\n  Hell of nations, heroes' hell,\n  Hell of cities, from the tissued\n  Harem-chamber veils she issued.\"\n\n\n Note 58 (p. 62).\n \". . . giant Zephyr.\"\n\nI see no reason why so many translators, from STAN. downward, should\nhave been so fond to render \u03b3\u03af\u03b3\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \"_earth-born_\" here, as if there\nwere any proof that any such genealogical idea was hovering before the\nmind of the poet when he used the word. I entirely agree with CON.\nthat the notion of _strength_ may have been all that was intended (as,\nindeed, we find in Homer the Zephyr always the strongest wind), and,\ntherefore, I retain the original word. SYM. Anglicising, after his\nfashion, says, not inaptly--\n\n  \"Fanned by Zephyr's buxom gales;\"\n\nand CON. changes _giant_ into _Titan_, perhaps wisely, to avoid\ncertain ludicrous associations.\n\n\n Note 59 (p. 62).\n \"Kin but not kind.\"\n\nAnother etymological allusion; \u03ba\u1fc6\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2 meaning both _kin_ and _care_.\nSEW. has turned it differently--\n\n  \"And a marriage truly hight,\n  A marjoy,\" etc.\n\nHARF. does not relish this \"absurd punning\" at all, and misses it out\nin this place; so also POTTER; but I agree altogether with SEW. that\n\"there is nothing more fatal to any poet than to generalize his\nparticularities.\" Shakespere also puts puns into his most serious\npassages; a peculiarity which we must even tolerate like an affected way\nof walking or talking in a beautiful woman; though, for the reason\nstated in the note to the Prometheus, above referred to, the ancient,\nwhen he puns upon proper names, is by no means to be considered as an\noffender against the laws of good taste, in the same way as the modern.\n\n\n Note 60 (p. 63).\n \"A servant of At\u00e9, a priest of Ruin.\"\n\nAt\u00e9 the goddess of destruction, already mentioned (p. 53), and whose\nname has been naturalized in English by the authority of Shakespere. In\nHomer \u03b1\u03c4\u03b7 appears (1) as an infatuation of mind leading to perdition;\n(2) as that perdition effected; (3) as an allegorical personage, eldest\nborn of Jove, the cause of that infatuation of mind and consequent\nperdition (Il. XIX. v. 91). In the tragedians, \u1f0c\u03c4\u03b7 is more habitually\nclothed with a distinct and prominent personality.\n\n\n Note 61 (p. 64).\n \"A haughty heart.\"\n\nIn a passage hopelessly corrupt, and where no two editors agree in the\nreading, I have necessarily been reduced to the expedient of translating\nwith a certain degree of looseness from the text of the MSS. as given by\n{349} WELL. Through this text, broken and disjointed as it is, the\nmeaning glimmers with a light sufficient to guide the reader, who wishes\nonly to arrive at the idea, without aspiring at the reconstitution of\nthe lost grammatical form of the text; and it is a satisfaction to think\nthat all the translators, from POT. to CON., however they may vary\nin single phrases, give substantially the same idea, and in a great\nmeasure the same phrase. This idea, a most important one in the Greek\nsystem of morals, is well expressed by SYM. in his note on this\nplace--\"The Chorus here moralizes and dwells on the consequences to\nsucceeding generations of the crimes of their predecessors. He traces,\nas it were, a moral succession, handed down from father to son, where\none transgression begets another as its inevitable result. The first\nparent stock was '\u1f55\u03b2\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2' a spirit of insolence or insubordination,\nbreaking out into acts of outrage, the forerunner of every calamity in a\nGrecian republic, against which the philosophers and tragedians largely\ndeclaimed. They denounced it as well from a principle of policy as a\nsentiment of religion. In short, the poet treats here of the moral\nconcatenation of cause and effect, the consequence to the descendants of\ntheir progenitors' misconduct, operating either by the force of example\nor of hereditary disposition, which in the mind of the Chorus produces\nthe effect of an irresistible fatality.\"--I may mention that I have\nretained the original word \u03b4\u03ac\u03b9\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd in its English form \"demon,\"\nthis being, according to my feeling, one of the few places where the one\ncan be used for the other without substituting a modern, and, therefore,\na false idea.\n\n\n Note 62 (p. 65).\n \"Fawn with watery love.\"\n\n\u1fe6\u03b4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c3\u03ac\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03cc\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9. This is one of those bold dramatic touches\nwhich mark the hand of a Shakespere, or an \u00c6schylus, and, by transmuting\nor diluting which, the translator, in my opinion, commits a capital\nsin. HARF., with his squeamish sensibility, has slurred over the whole\npassage, and even FR., like all Germans, an advocate for close\ntranslation, gives the rapid generality of \"_tr\u00fcgend_;\" MED., from\ncarelessness, I hope, and not from principle, has sinned in the same\nway, and KENNEDY likewise; but I am happy in having both CON. and\nSYM. for my companions, when I retain a simile which is as\ncharacteristic of my author as a crooked beak is of an eagle. This note\nmay serve for not a few similar cases, where the nice critic will do\nwell to consult the Greek author before he blames the English translator.\n\n\n Note 63 (p. 67).\n \"He might have boasted of a triple coil.\"\n\nI consider it quite legitimate in a translator, where critical doctors\ndiffer, and where decision is difficult or impossible, to embody in his\nversion the ideas of both parties, where that can be done naturally,\nand without forcing, as in the present instance. It seems to me on the\none hand that \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03ba\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f40\u03c5 \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03c9 has more pregnancy of expression\nwhen applied to the dead Geryon, than when interpreted of the earth;\nand, on the other hand, I cannot think with SYM. that the expression\n\u03c4\u03c1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03c7\u03bb\u03b1\u1fd6\u03bd\u03b1\u03bd, when applied to the earth, is \"rank nonsense.\" There\nare many phrases in \u00c6schylus that, if translated literally, sound very\nlike nonsense in English. The parenthetic clause \"_of him below I speak\nnot_,\" is added from a superstitious feeling, to avoid the bad omen of\nspeaking of a living person as dead. So WELL. and SYM., and this\nappears the most natural qualification in the circumstances.\n\n{350}\n\n\n Note 64 (p. 67).\n \"Thy Phocian spear-guest.\"\n\nSpeaking of the era of the great Doric migration with regard to Megara,\nBishop THIRLWALL (Hist. Greece, c. VII.) writes as follows:--\"Megara\nitself was, at this time, only one, though probably the principal, among\nfive little townships which were independent of each other, and were not\nunfrequently engaged in hostilities, which, however, were so mitigated\nand regulated by local usage as to present rather the image than the\nreality of war. They were never allowed to interrupt the labours of the\nhusbandman. The captive taken in these feuds was entertained as a guest\nin his enemy's house, and when his ransom was fixed, was dismissed\nbefore it was paid. If he discharged his debt of honour he became, under\na peculiar name (\u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u03cd\u03be\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2), the friend of his host; a breach of the\ncompact dishonoured him for life both among the strangers and his\nneighbours--a picture of society which we could scarcely believe to have\nbeen drawn from life, if it did not agree with other institutions which\nwe find described upon the best authority as prevailing at the same\nperiod in other parts of Greece.\"\n\n\n Note 65 (p. 69).\n \"Come, boy, unbind these sandals.\"\n\nThis passage will at once suggest to the Christian reader the well-known\npassage in Exod. iii. 5., \"take off thy shoes from thy feet, for the\nground where thou standest is holy ground,\" which KEN. aptly adduces,\nand compares it with Lev. xxx. 19, and Juvenal Sat. VI. 159--\n\n  \"Observant ubi festa mero pede Sabbata reges,\"\n\nand other passages. In the same way the hand held up in attestation\nbefore a bench of grave judges, according to our modern usage, must be\nungloved.\n\n\n Note 66 (p. 69).\n \"Jove, Jove the perfecter! perfect thou my vow.\"\n\n\u0396\u03b5\u1fe6 \u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03b5. I see no reason in the connection of this passage to give\nthe epithet of \u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 a special allusion to Jove, as along with Juno,\nthe patron of marriage. BLOM., PEILE, and among the translators,\nMED. and KEN. take this view. But POT., SYM., CON., FR.,\nVOSS., and DROYS. content themselves with the more obvious and\ngeneral meaning. It is not contended, I presume, by any one that the\nepithet \u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, when applied to Jove, _necessarily_ refers to marriage,\nindependently of the context, as for instance in Eumen. 28. The origin\nof the epithet may be seen in Homer, Il. IV. 160-168, etc.\n\n\n Note 67 (p. 69).\n \". . . unbidden and unhired.\"\n\n\"Poor Louis! With them it is a hollow phantasmagoria, where, like mimes,\nthey mope and mow, and _utter false sounds for hire_, but with thee it\nis frightful earnest.\"--CARLYLE's French Revolution; the ancient and\nthe modern, with equal felicity, alluding to the custom prevalent in\nancient times of hiring women to mourn for the dead. We must also note,\nhowever, that there is an example here of that spontaneous prophecy of\nthe heart by god-given presentiment, which is so often mentioned in\nHomer. The ancients, indeed, were the furthest possible removed from\nthat narrow conception of a certain modern theology, which confines the\nhigher influences of inspiration to a privileged sacerdotal order. In\nSt. Paul's writings, the whole Church prophesies; and so in Homer the\nfair Helen, {351} who had no pretensions to the character of a\nprofessional soothsayer, prefaces her interpretation of an omen by\nsaying,\n\n  \"Hear my word; as in my heart the immortal gods suggest the thought,\n  I will read the omen rightly, as the sure event shall show.\"\n                                            ODYS. XV. 172.\n\nThe words used by Homer to express this action of the divine on the\nhuman mind are \u03b2\u03ac\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03af\u03b8\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9, and such like, to _throw into_, and\nto _put under_, or _suggest_.\n\n\n Note 68 (p. 70).\n \"Unloosed their cables from the shore.\"\n\nI have not been curious in rendering this passage, as the word \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03ae\u03b2\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd\nis hopelessly corrupt; but the general notion of my translation is taken\nfrom SYM.'s note.\n\n\n Note 69 (p. 71).\n                \". . . Were link with link\n In the chain of things not bound together.\"\n\n\u1f10\u03b9 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bc\u1f74 \u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1 \u03bc\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b1 \u03ba. \u03c4. \u03bb. In my opinion, SYM., CON., and\nPEILE, are wrong in giving a different meaning to \u03bc\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd from that\nwhich they assign to \u03bc\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b1 immediately preceding. In such phrases as\n\"_truditur dies die_\" (Horace) and \"_Day uttereth speech unto day_,\"\nthe reader naturally attaches the same idea to the same word immediately\nrepeated. The literal translation of this passage, \"if by the ordinance\nof the gods ordered Fate did not hinder Fate,\" seems merely to express\nthe concatenation of things by divine decree as given in my version.\nSYM.'s version is--\n\n  \"I pause. Some Fate from Heaven forbids\n  The Fate within to utter more,\n  Else had my heart outrun my tongue,\n  And poured the torrent o'er.\"\n\nMED. gives three lines substantially identical with mine--\n\n  \"Nor would I counteract the laws of Heaven;\n  My heart would chain my tongue, e'en were it given\n  To drag the secret of the Fates to the day.\"\n\n\n Note 70 (p. 71).\n \". . . the household altar.\"\n\n\u03ba\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b2\u03c9\u03bc\u03bf\u1fe6. Literally, _the altar of our family wealth or\npossession_. In the same way, Jove, the supreme disposer of all human\nwealth, is called \u0396\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03ae\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, possessory Jove. See the Suppliants,\nv. 440--my translation.\n\n\n Note 71 (p. 72).\n \"My way-god, my leader Apollo!\"\n\n\"Agyieus (from \u1f00\u03b3\u03c5\u03b9\u1f70, a way), a surname of Apollo, describing him as\nthe protector of the streets and public places. As such he was\nworshipped at Acharn\u00e6, Mycen\u00e6, and Tegea.\"--Dr. SCHMITZ, in the\nMythol. Dict. In the same way, by \u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u1f70\u03bd (Soph. Antig. 1200), or\n\"the way goddess,\" is understood Hecate. The Hindoos make their god\n_Pollear_ perform a similar function, placing his image in all temples,\nstreets, highways, and, in the country, at the foot of some tree, that\ntravellers may make their adorations and offerings to him before they\npursue their journey.--SONNERAT in notes to the Curse of Kehama,\nCanto V.\n\n\n Note 72 (p. 73).\n \"Apollo, my leader, whither hast thou led me?\"\n\nIn this Antistrophe, and the preceding Strophe, there is one of those\nplays on the name of the god addressed, which appear inappropriate to\nus, {352} but were meant earnestly enough by the ancients, accustomed to\ndeal with an original language from which the significancy of proper\nnames had not been rubbed away.--See note on Prometheus, v. 85. Besides\nthis, there was naturally a peculiar significancy attached to the names\nof the gods.--See note 18, p. 338, above. In the present passage the\nfirst pun is on the name \u0391\u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd, Apollo, and the verb \u1f00\u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03bb\u03c5\u03bc\u03b9, which\nsignifies to _destroy_) so the Hebrew ABADDON from ABAD, he\n_perished_.--Apoc. ix. 11), a function of the Sun god familiar enough to\nthe Greek mind, from the description of the pestilence in the opening\nscene of the Iliad. The second pun is on the title \u1f00\u03b3\u03c5\u03b9\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2, leader, or\nway-god, concerning which see previous note. I have here, as in the case\nof Helen and Prometheus (v. 85), taken the simple plan of explaining the\nepithet in the text. The translator who will not do this must either,\nlike CON. and SYM., leave the play on the words altogether\nimperceptible to the English reader, or, like SEW., be driven to the\nnecessity of inventing a new pun, which may not always be happy English,\nand is certainly not Greek, thus--\n\n      \"Apollo! Apollo!\n      Leader! appaller mine!\n  Yea! for the second time thou hast with ease\n  Appalled me, and destroyed me.\"\n\n\n Note 73 (p. 74).\n \"The blithe blood, that crimson ran\n In my veins, runs pale and wan.\"\n\nWith this SYM. aptly compares a passage from the speech of Theodosius\nin Massinger's Emperor of the East--\n\n  \"What an earthquake I feel in me!\n  And on the sudden my whole fabric totters;\n  My blood within me turns, and through my veins\n  Parting with natural redness, I discern it\n  Changed to a fatal yellow.\"\n\nEven more strongly expressed than in our Greek poet, perhaps a little\ntoo strongly, the words, _I discern it_, certainly not improving the\npassage. HARF., as is his fashion, fears to follow the boldness of\nhis author, and translates--\n\n  \"The ruddy drop is curdling at my heart.\"\n\nAnd in the same spirit FR. gives _dunkelroth_.\n\n\n Note 74 (p. 74).\n \"As when in the mortal anguish.\"\n\nSYM. takes his stand too confidently on a corrupt text, when he says,\n\"POT. has entirely omitted the fallen warrior bleeding drop by drop,\nwhich is, as it were, introduced into the background by the poet to\naggravate the gloom of the picture.\" I read \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03af\u03b1 with DIND., CON.,\nLINW., and FR., with which single word the fallen warrior\ndisappears, who comes in, even in SYM.'s version, rather abruptly.\n\n\n Note 75 (p. 74).\n    \". . . she seizes him\n By the strong black horn.\"\n\nHARF. finds this rough Homeric trait too strong for him. MED. has--\n\n  \"With her black horn she buts him.\n  What is that wrapt round his head?\"\n\nBut, though there is some colour for this translation in the old\nScholiast, I think the reader will scarcely judge very favourably of it,\nafter considering what PEILE and CON. have judiciously said on the\npoint. As for authority, {353} all the translators, except MED. and\nHUMB., from POT. downwards, English and German, are with me. It is\nscarcely necessary to remark against Harford's squeamishness, that the\nbull in ancient symbolical language (see poets and coins, _passim_) was\nan animal in every respect as noble and kingly as the lion and the eagle\nstill remain.\n\n\n Note 76 (p. 75).\n \"Crieth Itys! Itys! aye.\"\n\nProcne and Philomele, according to one of the most familiar of old Greek\nlegends, were daughters of Pandion, king of Athens; and one of them\nhaving been given in marriage to Tereus, a king of the Thracians, in\nDaulis, who, after the marriage, offered violence to her sister--the\nresult was, that the wife, in a fit of mad revenge, murdered her own son\nItys, and gave his flesh to her husband to eat; and, being afterwards\nchanged into a nightingale, was supposed in her melodious wail\ncontinually to repeat the name of this her luckless offspring.\n\n\n Note 77 (p. 75).\n \"The thick blossoms of its woe.\"\n\n\u1f00\u03bc\u03c6\u03b9\u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u1fc6 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03bd. I hope this expression will not be considered too\nstrong by those who consider as well the general style of our poet, as\nthe \u1f41\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd \u03c0\u03ad\u03bb\u03b1\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f08\u03b9\u03b3\u1fb6\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03c1(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c2, v. 645 of this play (see\nmy translation, _supra_, p. 61), and the \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03cc\u03bd \u1f70\u03c0\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03ac\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03b7\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\n\u03c4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 of Sophocles.--Antig. v. 960.\n\n\n Note 78 (p. 77).\n \"Soon my reeking heart shall cast.\"\n\nIf the reader thinks this a bold phrase, he must bear in mind that it\nis Cassandra who speaks, and \u00c6schylus who writes. The translation,\nindeed, is not literal, but the word \"\u03b8\u03b5\u03c1\u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2,\" as CON. says, \"has\nall the marks of genuineness,\" and I was more afraid of weakening it\nin translation than of exaggerating it. Other translations are--\n\n  \"And I my warm blood soon on earth shall pour.\"--SYM.\n  \"But I shall soon press my hot heart to Earth.\"--CON.\n  \"Ich aber st\u00farze bald zur Erd im heissen Kampf.\"--FR.\n  \"Ich aber sinke bald im heissen Todeskampf.\"--DROYS.\n\n\n Note 79 (p. 77).\n \"Waves shall it dash from the west in the sun's face.\"\n\n\"The beauty of this image can only be properly appreciated by those\nwho have observed the extraordinary way in which the waves of the sea\nappear to rush towards the rising sun.\"--English Prose Tr. Oxon.\n\n\n Note 80 (p. 77).\n \". . . though I should wedge them\n As stark as ice?\"\n\nI read \u03c0\u1fc6\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1 with WELL. and the majority of editors and translators.\nSYM., who is sometimes a little too imperative in his style, calls\nthis to \"obtrude an unnecessary piece of frigidity or fustian on\n\u00c6schylus.\" The reader, of course, will judge for himself; but there\nare many things in our poet more worthy of the term \"fustian\" than the\nword \u03c0\u1fc6\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1, applied to \u1f41\u03c1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2.\n\n\n Note 81 (p. 78).\n \"Implacable breath of curses on her kin.\"\n\nWELL. forgets his usual caution, when he receives \u1f04\u03c1\u03b7\u03bd into his text,\nand rejects \u1f00\u03c1\u1f70\u03bd, the reading of the MS. It is paltry to object to the\nphrase {354} \u1f04\u03c3\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03c1\u1f70\u03bd in an author like \u00c6schylus. FRANZ receives\nthe emendation of LOBECK, modified into \u1f0c\u03c1\u03b7.\n\n\n Note 82 (p. 80).\n \"Bravely thou praisest; but the happy hear not\n Such commendations.\"\n\nI have here, in opposition to FR., SYM., MED., and even the\ncautious WELL., reverted to the original order of this and the next\nline, as they appear in the MSS., being chiefly moved by what is said\nby CON. \"The words \u1f70\u03bb\u03bb \u1f10\u03c5\u03ba\u03bb\u03b5\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03bd \u03c7\u03ac\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u1ff7 could\nnever have been put by \u00c6schylus into the mouth of Cassandra, who is as\nfar as possible from cherishing the common view of a glorious death,\nand, indeed, shows in her next speech very plainly what feelings such\na thought suggests to her.\"\n\n\n Note 83 (p. 80).\n \"Not with vain screaming, like a fluttering bird.\"\n\n\"Fearing a wild beast about its nest,\" says the Scholiast; fearing the\nfowler with \"its limed wings,\" says MED. The original is short and\nobscure; but there is no need of being definite; nothing is more common\nthan to see a bird fruitlessly fluttering about a bush, and uttering\npiteous cries. A fit image of vain lamentation without purpose or\nresult.\n\n\n Note 84 (p. 81).\n                   \". . . From bad to worse\n Our changes run, and with the worst we end.\"\n\nThis translation is free, because it did not occur to me that the\nlaconism of the Greek, if literally translated, would be sufficiently\nintelligible. I have no doubt as to the correctness of this version of\na passage which is certainly not a little puzzling at first sight. Two\nphases of human life are spoken of in the previous lines; one is the\nchange from prosperity to adversity, the other, from adversity down to\nutter ruin and death. The preference expressed in the line \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03b1\u1fe6\u03c4\n\u1f12\u03ba\u03ad\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba.\u03c4.\u03bb. can refer to nothing but these two. So PEILE and\nCON.; and there is a terrible darkness of despair about Cassandra's\nwhole tone and manner, which renders this account of human life\npeculiarly natural in her parting words.\n\n\n Note 85 (p. 81).\n \"Who of mortals will not pray.\"\n\nThe line \u03c4\u03af\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd \u1f14\u03c5\u03be\u03b1\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f00\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd(\u03b5)\u03b9, being deficient in metre, one\nmay either supply \u1f44\u03c5\u03ba, with CANTER., which gives the meaning expressed\nin the text, or, retaining the affirmative form, read \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03cc\u03c2, \u1f64\u03bd, with\nBOTH. and FR., which gives an equally good sense thus--\n\n  \"Who of mortals then may hope\n  To live an unharmed life, when he\n  Fell from such height of honor?\"\n\nso POT., MED., HUMB., DROYS., FR., and VOSS.\n\n\n Note 86 (p. 81).\n \"Weave we counsel now together, and concert a sure design.\"\n\nI follow M\u00dcLLER here in dividing the Chorus among twelve, not fifteen\nspeakers. The internal evidence plainly points to this; and for any\nexternal evidence of scholiasts and others in such matters, even if it\nwere uncontradicted, I must confess that I think it is worth very\nlittle.\n\n{355}\n\n\n Note 87 (p. 82).\n \"So wisely spoken.\"\n\nMost lame and impotent conclusion!--so the reader has no doubt been all\nthe while exclaiming. Our great poet has here contrived to make one of\nthe most tragic moments of the play consummately ridiculous; and it is\nin vain to defend him. No doubt, old men are apt enough to be\nirresolute, and to deliberate, while the decisive moment for action\nslips through their fingers. So far in character. But why does the poet\nbring this vacillation so laboriously forward, that it necessarily\nappears ludicrous? This formal argumentation turns the character of the\nChorus into caricature. Nor will it do to say with CON. that this\nimpotent scene was \"forced on \u00c6schylus, by the fact of the existence of\na Chorus, and the nature of the work he had to do.\" A short lyrical ode\nmight have covered worthily that irresolution, which a formal\nargumentation only exposes. No one blames the Chorus for doing nothing;\nthat is all right enough; but every one must blame the poet for making\nthem talk with such a show of solemn gravity and earnest loyalty about\ndoing nothing.\n\n\n Note 88 (p. 82).\n \"Here, where I struck, I take my rooted stand\n Upon the finished deed.\"\n\nThe natural attitude of decision. So when Brutus administered the\nfamous oath to the Roman people, \"_neminem Rom\u00e6 regnare passuros_,\" he\nand his colleagues are described by Dionysius (V. 1) as \u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9 \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n\u03c4\u03bf\u03bc\u03af\u03c9\u03bd.\n\n\n Note 89 (p. 83).\n \"Thou hast cast off: thou hast cut off\n Thine own husband.\"\n\nI have endeavoured to express the repetition of the _off_ three times\nas in the original; but the Greek is far more emphatic, the repetition\ntaking place in the same line, \u1f00\u03c0\u03ad\u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03c2, \u1f00\u03c0\u03ad\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03cc\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4 \u1f15\u03c3\u1fc3.\n\n\n Note 90 (p. 83).\n \"But mark my words.\"\n\nThere is much difficulty in settling the reading and the construction\nof the Greek here; but having compared all the translations, I find\nthat, from POT. down to MED. and FR., substantially the same\nsentiment is educed. SYM. who praises BLOM.'s arrangement, gives--\n\n  \"Threaten away, for I too am prepared\n  In the like manner. Rule me if thou canst,\n  Get by thy hand the mastery--rule me then.\n  But if,\" etc.\n\nWELL. whom I follow, and who objects to BLOM.'s construction,\ngives--\n\n  \"Jubeo antem te, quum et ego ad similes minas paratas sim, victoria vi\n  reportata, mihi imperare; sin minus, et si contraria Dii perfecerint,\n  damno edoctus sero sapere disces.\"\n\n\n Note 91 (p. 84).\n \"And thine eyes with fatness swell.\"\n\nI do not know whether I may not have gone too far in retaining the\noriginal force of \u03bb\u03af\u03c0\u03bf\u03c2 in this passage. I perceive that few of the\ntranslators, not even SEW., so curious in etymological translation,\nkeep me in countenance. However, I am always very loath to smooth down\na strong phrase in \u00c6schylus, merely because the modern ear may think it\ngross. In this case, I am glad to find that I am supported by DROYS.\n\n  \"Ueber dem Auge gl\u00e4nzt fett Dir das Tropfenbl\u00fct,\"\n\nthough my rendering is a little more free.\n\n{356}\n\n\n Note 92 (p. 84).\n\nSTROPHE I. In the arrangement of the following lyric dialogue, I have\nfollowed BUT., BLOM., and PEILE, in opposition to that given by\nHERM., WELL., and FR., not for any metrical reasons sufficiently\nstrong to influence me either one way or other in constituting the text;\nbut because I find the sense complete and continuous after \u03bd\u1fe6\u03bd \u03b4\u03b5\n\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03ac\u03bd, and this alone is a sufficient reason why I, in my subordinate\nfunction of a translator, should not suppose anything to have fallen out\nof the text in this place. How much, however, we are all in the dark\nabout the matter appears from this, that in the place where BLOM. and\nPEILE suppose an immense _lacuna_, the sense in the mouth of\nClytemnestra \u03bd\u1fe6\u03bd \u03b4\u1fbd \u1f64\u03c1\u03b8\u03c9\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 runs on with a continuous allusion to the\npreceding words of the Chorus. For which reason I have not hinted the\nexistence of an omission, nor is it at all likely that the reader has\nlost much. These are matters which belonged to the ancient symmetrical\narrangement of the Chorus before the eyes and ears of the spectators,\nand which I much fear it it impossible for us, readers of a dry MS., to\nrevive at this time of day.\n\n\n Note 93 (p. 85).\n \"O god that o'er the doomed Atridan halls.\"\n\nI am afraid I stand alone, among the translators, in translating \u03b4\u03b1\u1fd6\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\nin this and similar places, by the English word _god_; but persuaded as\nI am that the English words _Fiend_ and _Demon_ are steeped in modern\npartly Gothic, partly Christian associations of a character essentially\nopposed to the character and genius of the Greek theology, I choose\nrather to offend the taste than to confound the judgment of my reader in\nso important a matter. The Greeks habitually attributed to their _gods_\nactions and sentiments, which we attribute only to devils and demons.\nSuch beings (in the English sense) were, in fact, altogether unknown to\nthe Greeks. Their gods, as occasion required, performed all the\nfunctions of our Devil; so that, to use a familiar illustration, instead\nof the phrase, _what the devil are you about?_ so familiar to a genuine\nEnglish ear, the Athenians would have said, _what the god are you\nabout?_ Hence the use of \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03b9\u03b5 in Homer.\n\n\n Note 94 (p. 86).\n \"The unrelenting old Alastor.\"\n\nAlong with SYM. and CON. I retain the Greek word here, partly from\nthe reason given in the previous note with regard to \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd, partly\nbecause the word is familiar to many poetical ears from Shelley's\npoetry, partly, also, because I take care so to explain it in the\ncontext, that it cannot be misunderstood by the English reader. The\nGreek word \u1f00\u03bb\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03c9\u03c1 means an _evil genius_. Clement of Alexandria, in a\npassage quoted by SYM. (Protrept c. II.) classes the Alastors of the\nancient tragedy with the Furies and other terrible ministers of heaven's\navenging justice. About the etymology of the word the lexicographers\nand critics are not agreed. Would there be any harm in connecting it\nwith \u1f00\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03ad\u03c9 (Il. XII. 163), and \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03ad\u03c9 (Odys. I. 252), so that it\nshould signify _an angry or wrathful spirit_.\n\n\n Note 95 (p. 88).\n \"Falling he fell, and dying died.\"\n\nI have here taken advantage of a Hebraism familiar, through the pages\nof the Bible, to the English ear, in order to give somewhat of the\nforce of the fine alliteration in the original \u03ba\u03ac\u03c0\u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u03b5, \u03ba\u03ac\u03c4\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5. \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b8\u03ac\u03c8\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd. In the next three lines I have filled up a blank in the\ntext, by what must obviously have been the import of the lost lines,\nif, indeed, PALEY, KLAUSEN, and CON. are not rather right in not\ninsisting on an exact response of stanza to stanza in the anap\u00e6stic\nsystems of the musical dialogue.\n\n{357}\n\n\n Note 96 (p. 88).\n \"While great Jove lives.\"\n\n\u03bc\u03af\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f72\u03bd \u03c7\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u1ff3\u0394\u03b9\u1f78\u03c2. \"The meaning is sufficiently plain, if we do\nnot disturb it by any philosophical notions about the difference\nbetween time and eternity.\"--CON. The reader will note here the grand\nidea of retributive justice pursuing a devoted family from generation\nto generation, and, as it were, entailing misery upon them, concerning\nwhich see Sewell's remarks above, p. 349. Sophocles strikes the same\nkeynote in the choric chaunt of the Antigone, \u1f00\u03c1\u03c7\u03b1\u1fd6\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b1 \u0394\u03b1\u03b2\u03b4\u03b1\u03ba\u03b9\u03b4\u1fb6\u03bd\n\u1f44\u03b9\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd \u1f41\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9.\n\n\n Note 97 (p. 90).\n               \". . . in a separate dish concealed\n Were legs and arms, and the fingers' pointed tips.\"\n\nEditors have a great difficulty in settling the text here; but there is\nenough of the meaning visible--especially when the passage is compared\nwith Herod. I. 119, referred to by SCH\u00dcTZ--to enable the translator\nto proceed on the assumption of a text substantially the same as that\ngiven by FR., where the second line is supplied--\n\n  \u03a4\u1f70 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03ae\u03c1\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c7(\u03b5)\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u1f04\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2\n  [\u1f1c\u03b8\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf \u03ba\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u03c0\u1f70\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c3\u03c5\u03b3\u03ba\u03c1\u03cd\u03c8\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03b4 \u1f00\u03c5]\n  \u1f1c\u03b8\u03c1\u03c5\u03c0\u03c4 \u1f04\u03bd\u03c9\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u1f70\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\u03ba\u1f70\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b7\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2\n  \u1f0c\u03c3\u03ae\u03bc\u1fbd\u00b7 \u1f41 \u03b4 \u1f04\u03c5\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f00\u03c5\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1fbd \u03b1\u03b3\u03bd\u03cc\u03b9\u1fb3 \u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u1f7c\u03bd.\n\nThe reader will observe that in these and such like passages, where,\nafter all the labours of the learned, an uncertainty hangs over the\ntext, I think myself safer in giving only the general undoubted meaning\nthat shines through the passage, without venturing on the slippery\nground of translating words of which the proper connection may be lost,\nor which, perhaps, were not written at all by the poet.\n\n\n Note 98 (p. 90).\n \". . . while with his heel he spurned\n The supper.\"\n\nI quite agree with CON. that there is not the slightest reason for\nrejecting the natural meaning of \u03bb\u03b1\u03ba\u03c4\u03af\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b5\u03af\u03c0\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5 in this passage. Such\nexpressions are quite \u00c6schylean in their character, and the analogy of\nthe feast of Tereus in Ovid, Met. VI. 661,\n\n  \"Thracius ingenti mensas clamore repellit,\"\n\nadduced by CON. is very happy. To push the table away, whether with\nhand or heel, or with both, in such a case, is the most natural action\nin the world.\n\n\n Note 99 (p. 90).\n \"And no diviner vends more potent balms\n To drug a doting wit.\"\n\nI have here expanded the text a little, to express the whole force of\nthe Greek word \u1f39\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2, concerning which see Note to the Eumen. v.\n62, below.\n\n\n Note 100 (p. 91).\n \"Ho! my gallant co-mates, rouse ye!\"\n\nThese two lines in the mouth of the Chorus make a good consecutive\nsense; but the symmetrical response of line to line, so characteristic\nof Greek tragedy, has led HERM., WELL., and the other editors of\nnote, to suppose that a line from \u00c6gisthus has fallen out between these\nlines of the Chorus. Blanks of this kind, however, the translator will\nwisely overlook, so long as they do not seriously disturb the sense.\n\n\n\nNOTES TO THE CHOEPHOR\u00c6\n\n{358}\n\n Note 1 (p. 99).\n \"What power thy father lent.\"\n\nJove was regarded as the grand source of the power exercised by all the\nother gods, even Apollo receiving the gift of prophecy from him. There\nis a peculiar propriety in the allusion to the father Zeus, as Mercury\nis requested to perform the same office of \u03c3\u03c9\u03c4\u03ae\u03c1 or Saviour to\nOrestes that Jove in a peculiar manner performs to all mankind.--See\nM\u00dcLLER on _Zeus Soter_. (Eumenides, \u00a7 94), whose observations,\nhowever, on this particular passage, seem to force an artificial accent\non the epithet \u03c3\u03ce\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1. The opening lines of this piece are wanting\nin the MSS. and were supplied by STAN. from the Frogs of Aristophanes.\n\n\n Note 2 (p. 99).\n \"* * My early growth of hair\n To Inachus I vowed.\"\n\nThese words will recall to the student of Homer a passage from the\ntwenty-third book of the Iliad, where an account is given of the funeral\nceremonies of Patroclus.\n\n  \"First the horsemen came, and then a cloud of infantry behind,\n  Tens of thousands; his companions bore Patroclus in the midst,\n  And the corpse they sadly covered with the locks which grief had shorn.\"\n                                                         v. 133-5\n\nAnd again--\n\n  \"Then another deed devised Achilles, godlike, swift of foot;\n  Stationed sad behind the pyre he dipt his locks of yellow hair,\n  Which, luxuriant shed, he cherished to Spercheius' flowing stream.\"\n                                                      v. 140-3.\n\nCompare the beautiful passage on the Greek mythology in Wordsworth's\nExcursion, Book IV.\n\n\n Note 3 (p. 99).\n \"O Jove, be thou mine aid.\"\n\nOf the high functions which belong to the supreme god of the Greeks,\nthat of _avenger_ is not the least notable, and is alluded to with\nspecial frequency in the Odyssey, of which poem, _retribution in this\nlife for wicked works_ is the great moral--whence the frequent line--\n\n  \u1f00\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b5 \u03c0\u03cc\u03b8\u03b9 \u0396\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b4\u1ff6\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03af\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f14\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1 \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03ad\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9.\n\n\n Note 4 (p. 99).\n \"And my cheeks, that herald sorrow.\"\n\n\"As these violent manifestations of grief were forbidden by Solon\n(Plut. 21), we are to look upon them in this place as peculiarly\ncharacteristic of the foreign captive maidens who compose the\nchorus\"--KL.; though the epithet of \u1f04\u03bc\u03c6\u03b9\u03b4\u03c1\u03c5\u03c6\u1f74\u03c2 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bf\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2 applied to the\nwife of Protesilaus by Homer (Il. ii. 700, xi. 393), shows that, in the\nheroic times, at least, the expression of sorrow was almost as violent\non the west as on the east side of the Hellespont.\n\n\n Note 5 (p. 101).\n \"And now fear rules.\"\n\n\u03c6\u03bf\u03b2\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b4\u03ad \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2. \"_People are afraid, and dare not speak out_\"--PEILE.\nabruptness of this passage renders it difficult to see the allusion.\nPALEY {359} gives it quite a different turn. \"_Sunt qui ob commissi\nsceleris quo adepti sint magnam fortunam_ (\u03c4\u03bf \u1f10\u03c5\u03c4\u03c5\u03c7(\u03b5)\u03af\u03bd) _conscientiam\ntorqueantur._\" But I do not think that this rendering agrees so well\nwith the words that follow. The thought seems to be--_the world judges\nby results; and men are content, even in fear, to obey a usurper, who\nshows his right by his success._ This brings out a beautiful contrast to\nthe \u03c3\u03ad\u03b2\u03b1\u03c2, or feeling of loyal reverence that filled the public\nmind towards Agamemnon, who is alluded to in the first words of the\nAntistrophe.\n\n\n Note 6 (p. 101).\n \"So filthy hands with blood bedabbled.\"\n\nI do not see why WELL. and KL. should object to \u03c0\u03cc\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9 being\ntaken, as the Scholiast hints, for an equivalent to \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u1f76. The\nword simply means \"_channels_,\" and in the present connection of\npurification would naturally explain itself to a Greek ear, as _channels\nof water_. KL.'s rendering of \u03c0\u03cc\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2, _ratio expiandae caedis_,\nhas no merit but being unpoetical. The \u1f30\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u1f04\u03c4\u03b7\u03bd holds concealed\nsome hopeless blunder; but for the need the \u03ba\u03bb\u03cd\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd \u03ac\u03bd \u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03b7\u03bd of FR.\nmay be adopted.\n\n\n Note 7 (p. 101).\n \"What the masters of my fate\n In their strength decree.\"\n\n\"There is a proverb, \u0394(\u03bf)\u03c5\u03bb\u03b5 \u03b4\u03b5\u03c3\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f04\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03af\u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b1\u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1.\n_Slave hear thy master whether right or wrong_.\"--SCHOLIAST.\n\n\n Note 8 (p. 101).\n \". . . beneath the veil.\"\n\n\u1f51\u03c6 (\u03b5)\u03b9\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd. STAN. quotes the beautiful picture of Telemachus\n(Odyssey IV. 114), endeavouring to conceal his filial sorrow from the\neyes of Menelaus at Sparta--\n\n  \"From his eye the tear-drop fell when he heard his father's name,\n  And with both his hands before his eyes he held the purple cloak.\"\n\n\n Note 9 (p. 102).\n      \". . . libations pure,\n Poured on my father's tomb.\"\n\nThese libations are described in various passages of the Classics, of\nwhich the following may suffice:--\n\n  \"Then to all the dead I poured libations, first with honied milk,\n  Then with sweetest wine, and then with water, and I strewed the grains\n  Of whitest meal.\"--ODYSSEY XI. 26.\n\n  \"Go, my Hermione, without the door,\n  And these libations take, and take my hair,\n  And, standing over Clytemnestra's tomb,\n  Milk-mingled honey and the winy foam\n  Pour, and thus speak.\"--EURIP., OREST. 112.\n\n  \"And with the due libation's triple flow\n  She crowns the corpse.\"--SOPH. ANTIG., 429.\n\nThe \u03c7\u03bf\u1fb6\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c0\u03cc\u03bd\u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9, being the _wine_, _water_, and _milk_,\nparticularised in the above extract from Homer. Compare Virgil's \u00c6n. V.\n78, and St. Augustine's Confessions vi. 2, with regard to his mother's\noffering at the tombs of the martyrs--_pultes et panem et merum_.\n\n\n Note 10 (p. 102).\n \". . . as who throws lustral ashes.\"\n\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03ac\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1. \"Ashes of lustral offerings\"--PEILE. \"Alluding to the\ncustom of the Athenians, who, after purifying their houses with incense\nin an earthen vessel, threw the vessel into the streets, and retired\nwith averted eyes.\"--SCHOLIAST.\n\n{360}\n\n\n Note 11 (p. 102).\n                  \"What other quittance to a foe\n Than hate repaid with hate, and blow with blow?\"\n\nWhy not? \u03c0\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03b4\u1fbd \u03bf\u03c5; how should it be otherwise? Observe, here, how far\nthe Christian rule, _love thine enemies_, was from the Heathen mind. It\nis very far yet from our practice; though it is difficult to\nover-estimate the value of having such ideal moral maxims as those of\nthe New Testament to refer to as a generally recognized standard.\n\n\n Note 12 (p. 103).\n \"Hermes, that swayest underneath the ground.\"\n\nAll the recent editors agree in bringing up the line--\n\n  \u03ba\u03ae\u03c1\u03c5\u03be \u03bc\u03ad\u03b3\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03ac\u03bd\u03c9 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9,\n\nfrom v. 162 to this place, where the initial words are plainly wanting.\n\"Hermes is invoked here as the great mediator between the living and\nthe dead.\"--KL. \"_Herald me in this_\"--\u03ba\u03b7\u03cd\u03be\u03b1\u03c2 \u1fbd\u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9--_perform a\nherald's function to me in this;_ the verb chosen with special\nreference to the name \u03ba\u03ae\u03c1\u03c5\u03be, according to the common practice of the\nGreek writers. In the second line below, I can have no hesitation in\nadopting STAN.'s emendation of \u1f78\u03c9\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd for \u03bf\u03bc\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd. AHRENS (in\nFR.) has tried to make the passage more pregnant by reading \u1f01\u03b9\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd,\nbut this scarcely seems such an obvious emendation.\n\n\n Note 13 (p. 103).\n \"These words of evil imprecation dire.\"\n\nThis is said to avoid the bad omen of mingling a curse with a blessing.\nThe ancients were very scrupulous as to the use of evil words in\nreligious services, and, when such were either necessary, or had\naccidentally crept in, they always made a formal apology. This I have\nexpressed more largely than my text warrants in the next line, where I\nfollow SCH\u00dcTZ in reading \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u1fc6\u03c2 for \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1fc6\u03c2; a correction which, though\nnot absolutely necessary, is sufficiently plausible to justify BLOM.,\nSCHOL., and PAL. in their adoption of it.\n\n\n Note 14 (p. 103).\n\n_Chorus_. This chorus seems hopelessly botched in the first half, and\nall the attempts to mend it are more or less unsatisfactory. If any one\nthink \"plashing torrents\" a strong phrase, he must know that it is no\nstronger than \u03ba\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c7\u1f72\u03c2 in the original, a word familiar to every student\nof Homer. The \u1f10\u03c1\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1 (or \u1f10\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1--HERM.), I agree with every interpreter,\nexcept Klausen, in applying to the tomb of Agamemnon; of the \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd\n\u03ba\u03b5\u03b4\u03bd\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5, I can make nothing, beyond incorporating the Scholiast's\ngloss, \u1f00\u03c0\u03cc\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f20\u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd.\n\n\n Note 15 (p. 104).\n\n_Electra_. The reader will find in POT. a somewhat amplified\ntranslation of the line here--\n\n  \u03ba\u03ae\u03c1\u03c5\u03be \u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03ac\u03bd\u03c9 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9,\n\nmentioned above as having been thrown back by Hermann to the\ncommencement of Electra's address over the tomb of her father,\nimmediately preceding the short choral ode. It is literally translated\nby E. P., Oxon.--\n\n  \"O mightiest herald of the powers above and below,\"\n\nbut comes in quite awkwardly, and manifestly out of place.\n\n{361}\n\n\n Note 16 (p. 104).\n \". . . a low-zoned maid's.\"\n\n\u03b2\u03b1\u03b8\u03c5\u03b6\u03ce\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5. \"High-bosomed,\" POTTER; \"hochgesch\u00fcrzt,\" DROYSEN;\n\"deep-bosomed,\" E. P., Oxon.; \"Weib im Festgewand,\" FRANZ. Not\nhaving a distinct idea of what is meant by this epithet, I have\ncontented myself with a literal rendering.\n\n\n Note 17 (p. 104).\n                         \"If it was dipt\n From head in Argos, it should be my own.\"\n\nThis passage has given great trouble to commentators, who cannot see\nhow Electra should say that no person but herself could have owned this\nlock, which yet she knew was not her own. They have, accordingly, at\nleast LIN., PEILE, and PAL., adopted DOBREES' emendation of\n\u1f11\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 (one person, _i.e._, _Orestes_), instead of \u1f10\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5, mine, which,\nthough ingenious, does not appear to me at all necessary. Electra means\nto say, _nobody here could have done it but me; and yet it is not mine_\n(this implied); _therefore, of course, the conclusion to be made is\nclear,_ \u1f10\u03c5\u03be\u03cd\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03b4 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03b4\u03bf\u03be\u03ac\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9, _it must have been Orestes!_\n\n\n Note 18 (p. 105).\n \". . . But lo! a further proof.\"\n\nImagine such evidence produced as a step in the chain of circumstantial\nevidence before a court of justice! Even the perturbed state of\nElectra's mind may not redeem it from the charge of being grossly\nludicrous. WELL. and FR., with that solemn conscientious gravity for\nwhich the Germans are notable, have, however, taken it under their wing,\nfollowed here, strangely enough, by PEILE. If the circumstance is to\nbe defended at all, we had better suppose that \u00c6schylus has given the\ndetails of the recognition exactly as he had received them from the old\npopular legend in the mouth of some story-teller. But why should not the\nfather of tragedy, as well as the father of Epos, sometimes nod?\n\n\n Note 19 (p. 105).\n \"Pray that fair end may fair beginning follow.\"\n\nThis seems to have been a sort of proverbial prayer among the Greeks,\nused for the sake of a good omen, as we find Clytemnestra, in the\nAgamemnon (p. 57 above), saying the same thing.\n\n\u1fcf\u0395\u03c5 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c5 \u03c6\u03b1\u03bd(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b8\u03ae\u03ba\u03b7 \u03c0\u03b5\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9. v. 486.\n\n\n Note 20 (p. 106).\n \". . . behold this web.\"\n\n\"The ladies, in the simplicity of ancient times, valued themselves much,\nand, indeed, were highly esteemed, for their skill in embroidery; those\nrich wrought vests made great part of the wealth of noble houses.\nAndromache, Helen, and Penelope, were celebrated for their fine work, of\nwhich Minerva herself was the patroness, and Dido was as excellent as\nthe best of them.\"--POT. The student will recall a familiar instance\nfrom Virgil--\n\n  \"Munera praetrea Iliacis erepta ruinis\n  Ferre jubet; pallam signis auroque rigentem\n  Et circumtextum croceo velamen acantho\n  Ornatus Argivae Helen\u00e6.\"--\u00c6NEID I. 651.\n\nevidently modelled on Odys. xix. 225.\n\n{362}\n\n\n Note 21 (p. 106).\n \"May Power and Justice aid thee, mighty Twain.\"\n\nThe reader will note this theological triad as very characteristic of\nthe Greeks. POWER (\u039a\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2) is coupled with Jove, as being his most\npeculiar physical attribute. Personified, this attribute appears in the\nPrometheus; and in Homer,\n\n  \"Jove, the lofty-pealing Thunderer, and in power the chiefest god,\"\n\nanswers to the opening words of our own solemn addresses to the Supreme\nBeing--ALMIGHTY GOD. JUSTICE, again, belongs to Jove as the highest\nmoral attribute; and this conjunction we find also very distinctly\nexpressed in Homer.\n\n  \"By Olympian Jove I charge you, and by Themis who presides\n  O'er the assemblies of the people.\"--ODYSSEY II. 68.\n\n\n Note 22 (p. 107).\n \". . . exasperate at the loss\n Of my so fair possessions.\"\n\n\u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b6\u03b7\u03bc\u03b9\u03ac\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03c1\u03cc\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd. KL. has made sad havoc of this\nline; but his objections to the old translation are weak, and his\ntranspositions, so far as I can see, only make confusion more\nconfounded. I stick by STAN. \u1f08\u03c0\u03bf\u03c7\u03c1\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b6\u03b7\u03bc\u03b9\u03ac est _damnum bonorum\nomnium_. Huc facit illud quod sequitur v. 299. \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03c0\u03b9\u03ad\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n\u1f00\u03c7\u03b7\u03bd\u03af\u03b1.\n\n\n Note 23 (p. 107).\n \". . . The evil-minded Powers\n Beneath the Earth.\"\n\nI am quite at a loss to explain the original of this passage further\nthan that I see nothing harsh (as LIN. does) in referring the general\nterm \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03c6\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd to the Furies, who are specially mentioned afterwards.\nIt is quite common with \u00c6schylus to give a general description first,\nand then specialise; and, moreover, in the present instance the\n\u03bb\u03b9\u03c7\u03ae\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 which the \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2 are to send on the flesh of the sinner,\nare strictly analogous to the \u03bb\u03b9\u03c7\u1f74\u03bd \u1f00\u03c6\u03c5\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 (Eumen. v. 788), with\nwhich, in the Eumenides, they threaten to curse the Athenian soil. For\nthe rest I should have little objection, in the present state of the\nMSS., to adopt LOBECK's suggestion, \u03bc\u03b7\u03bd\u03af\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1, into the text, and\nhave in effect so translated.\n\n\n Note 24 (p. 107).\n \"And through the dark his prescient eyebrow arched.\"\n\nThe reference of this impracticable line to Apollo comes from Pauw,\nand has been adopted by SCHWENCK, who reads--\n\n  '\u039f\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5 \u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03bd \u1f72\u03bd \u03c3\u03ba\u03cc\u03c4\u1ff3 \u03c4\u1fbd \u1fbd\u03bf\u03c6\u03c1\u1f7a\u03bd.\n\nAnother way of squeezing a meaning from the line is to refer it to\nAgamemnon--\n\n         \"With trains of heavier woes\n  Raised by the Furies from my father's blood,\n  Who in the realms of night sees this, and bends\n  His gloomy brows.\"--POT.\n\nThe other translations proposed are meagre and unpoetical.\n\n\n Note 25 (p. 107).\n                    \". . . him no share\n In festal cup awaits, or hallowed drop\n Of pure libation.\"\n\n{363}\n\nHere we have a notable example of the terms of that sort of\nexcommunication which the religious and social feeling of the ancients\npassed against the perpetrators of atrocious crimes. See Introductory\nRemarks to the Eumenides.\n\n\n Note 26 (p. 108).\n \"Age to age with hoary wisdom\n Speaketh thus to men.\"\n\nThe old Jewish maxim of _an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth_,\nwill here recur to every one; and, indeed, it is, to the present day, an\ninstinctive dictate of social justice, however insufficient it may be as\na general motive for individual conduct. In this spirit, wise old\nNestor, in the Iliad (II. 354), considers that it would be disgraceful\nfor the Greeks to think of returning home \"before some Greek had slept\nwith the wife of some Trojan,\" as a retaliation for the woes that Paris\nhad inflicted on Greek social life, in the matter of Helen. In Dante's\nInferno there are many instances, sometimes ingenious, sometimes only\nridiculous, of the application of this principle to retributive\npunishment in a future life.\n\n\n Note 27 (p. 108).\n \"There where in dark, the dead-man's day, thou liest.\"\n\nKL. appears to me to have supplied the true key to \u03c3\u03ba\u03cc\u03c4\u03c9 \u03c6\u03ac\u03bf\u03c2\n\u1f30\u03c3\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, by comparing the exclamation of Ajax in Sophocles, v. 394--\n\n  \u0399\u1f7c \u03c3\u03ba\u03cc\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bc\u1f78\u03bd \u03c6\u03ac\u03bf\u03c2\n  \u1f14\u03c1\u03b5\u03b2\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f60 \u03c6\u03b1\u03b5\u03bd\u03bd\u03cc\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u1f61\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bc\u03cc\u03b9!\n\nThe gloomy state of the dead in Hades is pictured yet more darkly, by\nsaying that the night, which covers them, is all that serves them for\nday.\n\n\n Note 28 (p. 109).\n \"The monarch of the awful dead.\"\n\nThe Hades of the ancients was, as is well remarked by KL. on this\nplace, in all things an image of this upper world; an observation to be\nmade on the surface of Virgil--\n\n                       \"Quae gratia currum\n  Armorumque fuit viris, qu\u00e6 cura nitentes\n  Pascere equos, eadem sequitur tellure repostos.\"\n                               \u00c6NEID VI. 653.\n\nBut the parallel most striking to the present passage occurs in the\naddress of Ulysses to Achilles, Odyssey XI. 482--\n\n                                                  \"Achilles,\n  Never man before was happier, nor shall ever be, than thou;\n  When thou wert among the living all the Argives honoured thee\n  Like a god, and now amid the dead thou sway'st with mighty power.\"\n\nTo which address the hero gave the well-known reply, a reply\ncharacteristic at once of his own tremendous energy, and of the Greek\nviews of a future state:--\n\n  \"Noble Ulysses, praise me not the state of death; for I would rather\n  Be a serf, and break the clods to him that owneth acres few\n  On Earth, than reign the mighty lord of millions of the shadowy dead.\"\n\n\n Note 29 (p. 110).\n \"Hyperborean bliss.\"\n\n\"Fair birds have fair feathers;\" so the Greeks, who had sent no voyages\nof discovery to the Arctic seas, were free, without contradiction, to\nplace Utopia at the North Pole. (See Herodot. III. 106, quoted by\n_Nitzsh_ in his comments on the Ph\u0153acians, Od. VII. 201-6.) SCH\u00dcTZ\nquotes POMP. MELA. III. 5--\"_diutius quam ulli mortalium et beatius\nvivunt._\" Some of {364} these Hyperboreans drank nothing but milk\n(\u03b3\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c6\u03ac\u03b3\u03bf\u03b9, Hom. Il. XIII. 6), and from this practice the alleged\npurity of their manners, according to certain modern theories of\ndietetics, may have arisen.\n\n\n Note 30 (p. 110).\n \"O Jove, O Jove! that sendest from below.\"\n\n\"Zeus, though his proper region is above, yet, by reason of his perfect\nconcord with his brother in the moral government of the world, exercises\nauthority also in Hades\"--KL. This is one of the many instances to be\nfound in Homer and \u00c6schylus of the Monotheistic principle of an\nenlightened Deism controlling and overruling the apparent confusion and\nanarchy of Polytheism.\n\n\n Note 31 (p. 111).\n \"Ye that honoured reign below.\"\n\nWhat the true reading of the corrupt original here is, no one can know;\nbut it may be some satisfaction to the student to note that the\ndifferent readings of all the emendators bring out substantially the\nsame sense. I give the various translations as follows:--\n\n             _You, whose dreaded power_\n  _The infernal realms revere, ye Furies, hear me!_--POT.\n\n  O ye powers that are honoured among the dead, listen to my prayer.--E.\n    P., Oxon.\n\n  H\u00f6ret ihr Herrscher der Tiefe, h\u00f6rt mich.--DROY.\n  H\u00f6ret mich Erd, und des Abgrund's m\u00e4chte!--FR.\n\nNeither this \"Earth,\" nor my \"Furies,\" can be looked on as part of the\ntext. They are only put in to fill up a gap, where nothing better can be\ndone.\n\n\n Note 32 (p. 111).\n \"And if blithe confidence awhile.\"\n\nThis passage is desperate. I follow PEILE in the translation; though,\nif I were editing the Greek, I should prefer to follow WELL. and\nPAL. in doing nothing.\n\n\n Note 33 (p. 111).\n \"The mother gave her child\n This wolfish nature wild.\"\n\nThis translation, which is supported by PEILE, and PAL., and LIN.,\nseems to me to give \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u1f78\u03c2 that reference to Orestes which connects it\nbest with the previous lines, while it, at the same time, gives the\nleast forced explanation of \u1f10\u03ba \u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2.\n\n\n Note 34 (p. 112).\n \"Like a Persian mourner.\"\n\nThe student will find a very remarkable difference between this version\nand that in POT. and E. P. Oxon., arising from the conversion of the\nword \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03bc\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 into \u1f30\u03b7\u03bb\u03b5\u03bc\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03af\u03b1\u03c2, a conjectural emendation which we\nowe to HERMANN and AHRENS, and which appears to me to be one of the\nmost satisfactory that has ever been made on the text of \u00c6schylus. It\nhas, accordingly, been adopted by KL., PEILE, PAL., FR., and\nDROY. The oriental wailers were famous, and the \"Maryandine and\nMysian wailers\" are especially mentioned by our poet in the final\nchorus of \"the Persians;\" which will be the best commentary on the\nexaggerated tone of the present passage. I have followed the recent\nGerman editors and translators in giving the first part of this Strophe\nto the Chorus. There seems to be a natural division at the words \u1f38\u1f7c, \u1f38\u1f7c\n\u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03b1.\n\n{365}\n\n\n Note 35 (p. 112).\n\n_Orestes_. WELL. has certainly made a great oversight in running on\ncontinuously with these two Strophes. However the division be made, a\nnew person must commence with \u0391\u03ad\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03ce\u03ca\u03bf\u03bd \u03bc\u03cc\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd.\n\n\n Note 36 (p. 113).\n\n_Chorus_. Here again I follow the later editors and translators in\ndividing the part given to the Chorus by WELL. There is a sort of\nnatural partition of the style and sentiment palpable to any reader. It\nmay also be remarked in general, that the broken and exclamatory style\nof the lamentation in this Chorus is quite incompatible with long\ncontinuous speeches (such as POT. has given), out of one mouth. The\norder of persons I give as in PEILE.\n\n\n Note 37 (p. 114).\n \"Scathless myself.\"\n\n\u03c6\u03c5\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd. FR. has unnecessarily changed this into \u03c4\u03c5\u03c7\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd. In Odyssey\nXX. 43, Ulysses uses the same language to Athena.\n\n\n Note 38 (p. 114).\n \"Thou too shalt taste.\"\n\nThat the dead were believed actually to eat the meat and drink that was\nprepared for them at the funeral feast is evident from the eleventh\nbook of the Odyssey, where they come up in fluttering swarms and sip\nthe pool of blood from the victim which he had sacrificed.\n\n\n Note 39 (p. 115).\n \"Well spoken both.\"\n\nWith KL., PEILE, FR., and PAL., I adopt Hermann's emendation--\n\n  \u03ba\u1f70\u03b9 \u03bc\u1f74\u03bd \u1f00\u03bc\u03b5\u03bc\u03c6\u1fc6 \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4 \u1f10\u03c4\u03b5\u03af\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd.\n\nand with him give the four lines to the Chorus. A very obvious and\nnatural sense is thus brought out, besides that \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u1f74\u03bd naturally\nindicates a change of person.\n\n\n Note 40 (p. 115).\n \". . . try what speed the gods may give thee.\"\n\n\u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2. Literally _trying your god_--the dependence of\nfortune upon God being a truth so vividly before the Greek mind that\nthe term \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd came to be used for both in a manner quite foreign to\nthe use of the English language, and which can only be fully expressed\nby giving both the elements of the word in a sort of paraphrase.\n\n\n Note 41 (p. 116).\n \". . . this whole house with ills\n Is sheer possessed.\"\n\n\u03b4\u03b1\u1f76\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u1fb7 \u03b4\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2. Literally, \"the house is _godded_ with ills,\"\nthat is, so beset with evil that we can attribute it only to a special\nsuperhuman power--to a god, as the Greeks expressed it, to the devil,\nas we say.\n\n\n Note 42 (p. 116).\n           \". . . Sirs, why dare ye shut\n Inhospitable doors against the stranger?\"\n\nTo shut the door upon a stranger or a beggar, seems, in Homer's days,\nto have been accounted as great a sin, as it is now, from change of\ncircumstances, necessarily looked on as almost a virtue. Every book of\nthe Odyssey has some testimony to this; suffice it to quote the maxim--\n\n{366}\n\n     \"\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u0394\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f02\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2\n  \u03be\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03af \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03c4\u03c9\u03c7\u03bf\u03af \u03c4\u03b5.\"\n\n  \"ALL STRANGERS AND BEGGARS COME FROM JOVE.\"\n\n\n Note 43 (p. 116).\n \"The third and crowning cup.\"\n\n\"Alluding first to the slaughter of the children of Thyestes by Atreus,\nthen to the murder of Agamemnon by Clytemnestra, and thirdly, that of\nClytemnestra and \u00c6gisthus presently to take place.\"--KL.\n\n\n Note 44 (p. 116).\n              \". . . his present aid I ask.\n Who laid on my poor wits this bloody task.\"\n\nI am inclined with SCH\u00dcTZ, KL., and PEILE, to think that there is\nmore propriety in referring this to Apollo than to Pylades. It is true,\nalso, as SCH\u00dcTZ remarks, that \u00c6schylus generally, if not invariably,\napplies the word \u1f10\u03c0\u03bf\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03cd\u03c9 to the notice taken of anything by a god.\n\n\n Note 45 (p. 117).\n \"Earth breeds a fearful progeny.\"\n\nThe sentiment of this chorus was familiar to the ancients, and was\nsuggested with peculiar force to the minds of the tragedians, from the\ncontemplation of those terrible deeds of old traditionary crime, which\nso often formed the subject of their most popular and most powerful\nefforts. Sophocles had a famous chorus in the Antigone, beginning in\nthe same strain, though ranging over a wider and a more ennobling\nfield--\"\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03c4\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u1f70 \u03ba\u1fbd \u03bf\u03c5\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9.\"\n\n  \"Things of might hath Nature many\n   In her various plan,\n  But of daring powers who dareth\n   Most on Earth is man.\"\n\nIn imitation of which, the\n\n       \"Audax omnia perpeti\n  Gens humana ruit in vetitum nefas\"\n\nof Horace has become proverbial. In modern times, the pages of the\n_Times_ newspaper will supply more ample and various illustrations of\nthe same great truth than the most learned ancient could have\ncollected. In England especially, the strong nature of the Saxon shows\nsomething Titanic, both in feats of mechanical enterprise and in crime.\n\n\n Note 46 (p. 117).\n \"All-venturing woman's dreadful ire.\"\n\nKL. quotes here the Homeric\n\n        \u1f61\u03c2 \u1f40\u03c5\u03ba \u1f00\u03b9\u03bd\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03cd\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03c2.\n  \"Woman like a dog unblushing deeds of terrible name will do.\"\n\nSo a friend who was in Paris, at the time of the Revolution in 1848,\nwrote to me--\"With the men I can easily manage, but _the women are\ntigers._\"\n\n\n Note 47 (p. 117).\n \"Thestios' daughter, wild with rage.\"\n\nAlthea, the mother of the famous Calydonian boar-hunter, Meleager, who\nis so often seen on the sides of ancient sarcophagi. \"When Meleager was\nseven days old, it is said the Fates appeared, declaring that the boy\nwould die, as soon as the piece of wood that was burning on the hearth\nshould be consumed. When Althea heard this, she extinguished the\nfirebrand, and concealed it in a chest. Meleager himself became\ninvulnerable; {367} but when--in the war between the Calydonians and the\nCuretes--he had unfortunately killed his mother's brother, she lighted\nthe piece of wood, and Meleager died.\"--_Dict. Biog._\n\n\n Note 48 (p. 117).\n \"How Scylla, gay, in gold arrayed.\"\n\nThe daughter of Nisus, king of Megara, who, when Minos, in his\nexpedition against Athens, took Megara, betrayed the city to the enemy,\nby cutting off the purple or golden hair which grew on the top of her\nfather's head, and on which his life and the preservation of the city\ndepended.--_Dict. Biog._; _voce_ NISUS, and Virgil Georg. I. 404, and\nOvid. Met VIII. 90, quoted here by STAN.\n\n\n Note 49 (p. 118).\n \"O woman! woman! Lemnos saw.\"\n\nThe Lemnian women, as Apollodorus relates (I. 9, 17), having neglected\nto pay due honor to Venus, were, by that goddess, made so ill-favoured\nand intolerable to consort with (\u1f00\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bc\u03b2\u03ac\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7 \u03b4\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c3\u03bc\u03af\u03b1\u03bd), that their\nhusbands, abandoning them, took themselves other wives from among the\ncaptive women that they had brought over from Thrace. The Lemnian women,\nin revenge, murdered both their fathers and their husbands; from which\natrocious act, and another bloody deed mentioned by Herodotus (VI. 138),\n\"it hath been the custom,\" says the historian, \"to call by the name\nLemnian any monstrous and inhuman action.\"\n\n\n Note 50 (p. 118).\n \"And honor from the threshold hies,\n On which the doom god-spoken lies.\"\n\nWe are not always sufficiently alive to the deep moral power which lay\nconcealed beneath the harlequin dress of the old Greek Polytheism. What\n\u00c6schylus puts into the mouth of a theatrical chorus in sounding rhythm,\nXenophon, in plain prose, teaches from the mouth of a Greek captain\nthus--\"Whosoever violates an oath to which the gods are witness, him I\ncan never be brought to look on as a happy man. For, when the gods are\nonce hostile, no one can escape their anger--not by hiding himself in\ndarkness--not by fencing himself within a strong place. For all things\nare subject to the gods.\"--_Anab_. II. 5. Think on some of the Psalms!\n\n\n Note 51 (p. 119).\n \"But nice regard for the fine feeling ear.\"\n\nI have here with a certain freedom of version expressed KL.'s idea,\nthat the preference expressed by Orestes for a male ear to receive his\nmessage arose from the nature of his news; but I do not think it is\n\"inept\" to believe, with BL. and PEILE, that we have here merely an\ninstance of the general secluded state in which Greek women lived, so\nthat it was esteemed not proper to talk with them, in public--as\nAchilles says, in Euripides--\n\n  \u1f00\u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03c1\u1f78\u03bd \u03b4\u03ad \u03bc\u03bf\u1f76 \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03be\u1f76\u03bd \u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03b2\u1f70\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2.\n  \"For me to hold exchange of words with women\n  Were most improper.\"--IPHIG. AULID. 830.\n\n\n Note 52 (p. 119).\n \"Hot baths.\"\n\nTo an English ear this sounds more like the apparatus of modern luxury\nthan the accompaniment of travel in the stout heroic times. It is a\nfact, however, as KL. well notes, that of nothing is there more\nfrequent mention in Homer than of warm baths. This is especially\nfrequent in the Odyssey, {368} where so many journeys are made.\nTelemachus, for instance, at Pylus, is washed by the beautiful\nPolycaste, the youngest daughter of his venerable host; and the poet\nrecords with pleasure how \"out of the bath he came in appearance like to\nthe immortal gods\" (III. 468), a verse which might serve as a very\nsuitable motto to a modern work on Hydropathy.\n\n\n Note 53 (p. 119).\n\n_Electra_. WELL. is very imperative in taking these words out of\nElectra's mouth, and giving them to some other person, he does not\nexactly know who; but, though she left the stage before, there is no\nreason why she should not come back; and, in fact, she is just doing\nwhat she ought to do in appearing here, and carrying on the deception.\n\n\n Note 54 (p. 120).\n \"Is audited at nothing.\"\n\nThe passage is corrupt. I read \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u1fbd \u1f40\u03c5\u03b4\u03ad\u03bd, with Blomfield. 'Tis\ncertainly difficult to say whether \u03b2\u03b1\u03ba\u03c7\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03b7\u03c2 should be made to\ndepend on \u1f10\u03bb\u03c0\u1f76\u03c2, as I have made it, or being changed into \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03b7\u03c2, be\nreferred to Clytemnestra.\n\n\n Note 55 (p. 120).\n \". . . suasive wile, and smooth deceit!\"\n\nThe reader need hardly be reminded that these qualities, so necessary\nto the present transaction, render the invocation (in the next line)\npeculiarly necessary of the god, who was the recognised patron of\nthieves, and of whom the Roman lyrist, in a well-known ode sings--\n\n  \"Te boves olim nisi reddidisses\n  Per dolum amotas puerum minaci\n  Voce dum terret, viduus pharetra\n     Risit Apollo.\"\n\n\n Note 56 (p. 120).\n \"The nightly courier of the dead.\"\n\n\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03bd\u03cd\u03c7\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd. That there is a great propriety in the epithet _nightly_,\nas applied to Mercury, both in respect of his general function as\n\u03c0\u03bf\u03bc\u03c0\u1fb6\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, or leader of the dead through the realms of night, and in\nrespect of the particular business now in hand, and the particular time\nof the action, is obvious. In spite of some grammatical objections,\ntherefore, I cannot but think it far-fetched in BLOM. and PEILE to\nrefer the epithet to Orestes. Were I editing the text I should be very\nmuch inclined to follow HERM. and PAL. in putting \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03bd\u03cd\u03c7\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\nwithin brackets, as perhaps a gloss.\n\n\n Note 57 (p. 122).\n \"The bearer of a tale can make it wear\n What face he pleases.\"\n\nI translate thus generally, in order to avoid the necessity of settling\nthe point whether \u03ba\u03c5\u03c0\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2 or \u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03c0\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2 is the proper reading--a point,\nhowever, of little consequence to the translator of \u00c6schylus, as the\nVenetian Scholiast to Il. O. 207 has been triumphantly brought forward\nto prove the real meaning of this otherwise corrupt and unintelligible\nverse. POT. was not in a condition to get hold of the true text--so\nhe has given the best version he could of what he had--\n\n  \"_For the mind catches from the messenger_\n  _A secret elevation and bold swell,_\"\n\nevidently from the reading of PAW.--\n\n{369}\n\n  \u1f10\u03bd \u1f70\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u1ff3 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03c0\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f60\u03c1\u03b8\u03c9\u03b8\u1fc3 \u03c6\u03c1\u03b5\u03bd\u1f76\n  _animo enim clam erigatur nuntio isto._\n\n--See BUTLER's Notes.\n\n\n Note 58 (p. 122).\n\nCHORAL HYMN. The text of this Chorus is a ruin, with here a pillar and\nthere a pillar, some fragments of a broken cornice, and something like\nthe cell of a god; but the rubbish is so thick, and the excavations so\nmeagre, that perfect recovery of the original scheme is in some places\nimpossible, and restoration in a great measure conjectural. Under these\ncircumstances, with the help of the Commentators (chiefly PEILE and\nLIN.), I have endeavoured to piece out a connection between the few\nfragments that are intelligible; but I have been guided throughout more\nby a sort of poetical instinct than by any philological science, and\nhave allowed myself all manner of liberties, convinced that in this case\nthe most accurate translation is sure to be the worst. In the metre, I\nfollow PEILE.\n\n\n Note 59 (p. 125).\n \"Let's go aside, the deed being done, that we\n Seem not partakers of the bloody work.\"\n\n'Tis a misfortune, arising from having such a body as a Chorus always on\nthe stage, that they are often found to be spectators, where they cannot\nbe partakers of a great work; and thus their attitude as secret\nsympathisers, afraid to show their real sentiments, becomes on many\noccasions the very reverse of heroic. This strikes us moderns very\nstrongly, apt as we are, from previous associations, to take the Chorus\nalong with the other characters of the play, and judge it accordingly;\nbut to the Greeks, who felt that the Chorus was there only for the\npurpose of singing, criticisms of this kind were not likely to occur.\n\n\n Note 60 (p. 126).\n \"I nursed thy childhood, and in peace would die.\"\n\nClytemnestra says only that she wished to be allowed to spend her old\nage in peace; but she implies further, according to a natural feeling\nstrongly expressed by Greek writers, that it was the special duty of\nher son to support her old age, and thus pay the fee of his nursing.\nThus, in Homer, it is a constant lament over one who dies young in\nbattle--\n\n                  \"Not to his parents\n  The nursing fee (\u03b8\u03c1\u03ad\u03c0\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1) he paid.\"\n                       --IL. IV. 478.\n\n\"In general it was accounted a great misfortune by the Greeks to die\nchildless (\u1f04\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1 \u03b3\u03b7\u03c1\u03ac\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd, Eurip. Ion. 621). And at Athens there was\na law making it imperative on an heir to afford aliment to his\nmother.\"--KLAUSEN.\n\n\n Note 61 (p. 126).\n \"Thou art a woman sitting in thy chamber.\"\n\n  \"Go to thy chamber, mother, and mind the business that suits thee;\n  Tend the loom and the spindle, and give thy maidens the order\n  Each to her separate work; but leave the bow and the arrows\n  To the men and to me--for the man in the house is the master.\"\n                                               ODYSSEY XXI. 350.\n\nSo Telemachus says to his mother; and on other occasions he uses what we\nshould think, rather sharp and undutiful language--but in Greece a woman\nwho left the woman's chamber without a special and exceptional call\n{370} subjected herself to just rebuke. With regard to the matter here\nat issue between Orestes and Clytemnestra, KL. notes that, though the\nwandering Ulysses is allowed without blame to form an amorous alliance\nwith Calypso, the same excuse is not allowed for the female sitting\nquietly in her \"upper chamber\" (\u1f51\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03ce\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, Il. II. 514) as Homer has it.\nFor \"in ancient times,\" says the Scholiast to that passage, \"the Greeks\nshut up their women in garrets (\u1f51\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03cd\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c5\u03c4\u03ac\u03c2 (\u1f10)\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9)\n_that they might be difficult to get at_.\"--How Turkish!\n\n\n Note 62 (p. 126).\n\n_Orestes_. I have little doubt that KL., PEILE, FR., WELL., and\nPAL., are right in giving the line \u1f26 \u03ba\u03ac\u03c1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03bc\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 to Orestes. I\nshould be inclined to agree with WELL. and PAL. also, that after\nthis line a verse has dropt out--\"_in quo instantem sibi mortem\ndeprecata sit Clytemnestra;_\" but there is no need of indicating the\nsupposed blank in the translation, as the sense runs on smoothly enough\nwithout it.\n\n\n Note 63 (p. 127).\n \". . . the eye of this great house, may live.\"\n\nAn Oriental expression, to which the magnificent phraseology of our\nCelestial brother who sells tea, has made the English ear sufficiently\nfamiliar. He calls our king, or our consul, I forget which, \"the\nBarbarian eye.\" Other examples of this style occur in the Persians and\nthe Eumenides.--See p. 172 above.\n\n\n Note 64 (p. 127).\n \"A pair of grim lions, a double Mars terrible.\"\n\nKlausen, who, like other Germans, has a trick, sometimes, of preferring\nwhat is far-fetched to what is obvious, considers that this double Mars\nis the double death, first of Agamemnon in the previous piece, then of\nClytemnestra in this; but notwithstanding what he says, the best\ncomment on this passage is that given by the old Scholiast, when he\nwrites \"PYLADES and ORESTES.\"\n\n\n Note 65 (p. 127).\n \"Sore chastisement.\"\n\n\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u1f70. AHRENS, with great boldness, changes this into \u1f18\u03c1\u03bc\u1fb6\u03c2, which\nreading has been rashly thrown into the text by FR. If any special\nallusion is needed, I agree with PAL. that Orestes is indicated, who\nis mentioned in the next clause as inflicting the blow, under the\nguidance of celestial Justice.\n\n\n Note 66 (p. 127).\n \"Her from his shrine sent the rock-throned Apollo.\"\n\nIn this corrupt passage I adopt HERMANN's correction of \u03c4\u03ac\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 for\n\u03c4\u03ac\u03c0\u03ad\u03c1. How much the whole meaning is guesswork, the reader may see, by\ncomparing my translation with POT. and the E. P. Oxon., in this\nplace, who follow the old Scholiast in referring \u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1\u03c5 to\nClytemnestra.\n\n\n Note 67 (p. 127).\n \"And blithely shall welcome them Fortune the fairest.\"\n\nThis passage being very corrupt, is rendered freely. I adopt STAN.'s\nconjecture \u1f30\u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u1f00\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b8\u1fbd \u1f31\u03b5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2, and suppose \u03bc\u03ad\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03b9 to refer to\nOrestes and Electra.\n\n\n Note 68 (p. 128).\n                              \". . . not\n My father, but the Sun that fathers all\n With light.\"\n\n{371}\n\nThere is a certain mannerism in this description of a thing by the\nnegation of what is similar, to which the tragedians were much addicted.\nAs to the invocation of the sun, see the note in the Prometheus to the\nspeech beginning\n\n  O divine ether and swift-winged winds.\n\n\n Note 69 (p. 128).\n \"Or a torpedo, that with biteless touch\n Strikes numb who handles.\"\n\nLiterally, _a lamprey_, \u03bc\u03cd\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1; but to translate so would have been\nludicrous; and besides, as BLOM. has noted from Athenaeus, it was not\na common lamprey that, in the imagination of the Greeks, was coupled\nwith a viper, but \"a sort of monstrous reptile begotten between a viper\nand a lamprey.\"\n\n\n Note 70 (p. 128).\n \"This cloth to wrap the dead.\"\n\n'Tis difficult to say whether \u03b4\u03c1\u03cc\u03b9\u03c4\u03b7, in this place, means the bath in\nwhich Agamemnon was murdered, or the bier on which any dead body is\nlaid after death. KL. supports this latter interpretation. I have\nincorporated a reference to both versions.\n\n\n Note 71 (p. 129).\n \"Others 'twixt hope and fear may sway, my fate\n Is fixed and scapeless.\"\n\nI read--\n\n  \u1f0c\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f04\u03bd \u1f10\u03b9 \u03b4\u03ae. \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u1fbd \u1f02\u03c1 (\u1f40)\u03b9\u03b4 \u1f43\u03c0\u03b7 \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb(\u03b5)\u03b9.\n                                     PEILE.\n\n\n Note 72 (p. 129).\n \"With soft-wreathed wool, and precatory branch.\"\n\nThese insignia of suppliants are familiar to every reader of the\nClassics. I shall only recall two of the most familiar instances. In the\nopening scene of the Iliad the priest of Apollo appears before\nAgamemnon, and\n\n  \"In his hand he held the chaplet of the distant-darting Ph\u0153bus\n  On a golden rod.\"\n\nAnd in the opening lines of the \u0152dipus Tyrannus, the old King asks the\nChorus--\n\n  \"Why swarm ye here around the seats of the gods,\n  With branches furnished such as suppliants bear?\"\n\n\n Note 73 (p. 129).\n \". . . navel of earth, where burns the flame\n Of fire immortal.\"\n\nAs the old astronomers made Earth the centre of the planetary system,\nand as men are everywhere, and at all times, apt to consider their own\nposition and point of view as of more importance in the great whole of\nthings than it really is; so the Greeks, in their ignorant vanity,\nconsidered their own Delphi to be the navel, or central point of Earth.\nAs to the immortal fire, STAN. quotes here from Plutarch, who, in his\nlife of Numa (c. ix.), describing the institution of the Vestal Virgins,\ntakes occasion to mention the sacred fire kept alive in Greece at two\nplaces, Delphi and Athens, which, if extinguished, was always rekindled\nfrom no earthly spark, but from the Sun.\n\n\n Note 74 (p. 130).\n \"There is atonement.\"\n\n\u1f18\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03cc\u03b9, SCH\u00dcTZ, PAL.; (\u03b5)\u1fbd \u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03cc\u03c2, BOTHE. Either of\nthese seems preferable to the vulgate \u1f10\u03b9\u03c3\u03c9. FRANZ has \u1fdf\u0395\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c3\u03bf\u03b9\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u1f78\u03c2. _Eins bleibt Dir S\u00fchnung._\n\n{372}\n\n\n Note 75 (p. 130).\n \"Ye see them not. I see them.\"\n\nGhosts and gods are never visible to the bystander, but only to the\nperson or persons who may be under their special influence at the\nmoment of their appearance--so in the Iliad (I. 197), Pallas Athena--\n\n  \"There behind him stood, and by the yellow hair she seized Pelides,\n  Seen to him alone; the others saw not where the goddess stood.\"\n\nand so in a thousand places of the poet. To the spectator, however, in\nthe theatre, spiritual beings must be visible, because (as M\u00fcller,\nEumen. 3, properly remarks) they are the very persons from before whose\neyes it is the business of the poet to remove the veil that interposes\nbetween our everyday life and the spiritual world. That the Furies of\nthe following piece were seen bodily at this part of the present play,\nand are not supposed to exist merely in the brain of Orestes, is only\nwhat a decent regard for common poetical consistency on the part of a\ngreat tragic poet seems to imply.\n\n\n Note 76 (p. 130).\n \". . . the god whose eyes in love behold thee!\"\n\nWhat god is not said, but the word \u03b8\u03b5\u03cc\u03c2 is used indefinitely without\nthe article. The Greeks had an indefinite style when talking of the\ndivine providence--_a god_, or _some god_, or _the god_, or _the\ngods_--a style which arose naturally out of the Polytheistic form of\ncelestial government. Examples of all the different kinds of phraseology\nare frequent in Homer. Sometimes, in that author, the expression, though\nindefinite in itself, has a special allusion, plain enough from the\ncontext; and in the present passage I see no harm in supposing an\nallusion to Apollo, under whose immediate patronage Orestes acts through\nthe whole of this piece and that which follows.\n\n\n\nNOTES TO THE EUMENIDES\n\n{373}\n\n Note 1 (p. 141).\n      \"Old earth, primeval prophetess, I first\n With these my prayers invoke; and Themis next.\"\n\nEarth, or GAEA, as the Greeks name her, is described here, and in\nPausanias (X. 5), as the most ancient prophetess of Delphi, for two\nreasons; _first_, because out of the earth came those intoxicating fumes\nor vapours, by the inspiration of which the oracles were given forth\n(see Diodorus XVI. 26); _second_, because, as SCHOEMANN well observes,\nGAEA, as the aboriginal divine mother, out of whose womb all the\nfuture celestial genealogies were developed, necessarily contained in\nherself the law of their development, and is accordingly represented by\nHesiod as exercising a prophetic power with regard to the fates of the\nother gods.--(Theog. 463, 494, 625). The same writer remarks with equal\ningenuity and truth, that Themis, her successor in the prophetic office,\nis only a personification of that law of development which, by necessity\nof her divine nature, originally lay in Gaea; and I would remark,\nfurther, how admirable the instinct was of those old mythologists, who\nplaced LOVE and RIGHT, and other ineradicable feelings or notions of\nthe human mind, among the very oldest of the gods. It is notable also,\nthat previous to Apollo, all the presidents of prophecy at\nDelphi--including the famous Phemonoe, not mentioned here but by\nPausanias l. c., were women, and even Loxias himself could not give forth\noracles without the help of a Pythoness. There is a great fitness in\nthis, as women are naturally both more pious and more emotional than\nmen. Hence their peculiar fitness for exercising prophetic functions, of\nwhich ancient Germany was witness--(see C\u00e6sar B.C. I. 50).\n\n\n Note 2 (p. 141).\n \". . . rocky Delos' lake.\"\n\nThere can be no question that SCH\u00dcTZ was right in translating \u03bb\u03af\u03bc\u03bd\u03b7,\nin this passage, _lake_ (and not _sea_, as ABRESCH did), it being\nimpossible that a well-informed Athenian, on hearing this passage in\nthe theatre, should not understand the poet to refer to the circular\nlake in Delos, described by Herodotus in II. 170.\n\n\n Note 3 (p. 141).\n \"The Sons of Vulcan pioneer his path.\"\n\n_i.e._ \"The Athenians\"--Scholiast--\"who,\" adds STAN., \"were called\nthe sons of Vulcan, because they were skilled in all the arts of which\nVulcan and Pallas were patrons; or, because Erichthonius, from whom the\nAthenians were descended, was the son of Vulcan;\" with which latter view\nM\u00fcller and Schoemann concur; and it appears to me sufficiently\nreasonable. There is no reason, however, for not receiving, along with\nthis explanation, another which has been given, that the sons of the\nfire-god mean \"smiths.\" Artificers of this kind were necessary to\npioneer the path for the procession of the god in the manner here\ndescribed, and would naturally form, at least, a part of the convoy.\n\n{374}\n\n\n Note 4 (p. 141).\n \". . . Loxias, prophet of his father Jove.\"\n\n'Tis plain from the whole language of Homer, both in the Iliad and\nOdyssey, that the fountain of the whole moral government of the world\nis Jove, and, of course, that all divination and inspiration comes\noriginally from him. Even Ph\u0153bus Apollo acts only as his instrument\n(N\u00e4gelsbach Homerische Theologie, p. 105). STAN. compares Virgil\n\u00c6neid III. 250.\n\n\n Note 5 (p. 141).\n \". . . thee, likewise, who 'fore this temple dwellest.\"\n\nThe reading \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03ac\u03b9\u03b1 (or \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u1fb4\u03b1), which I translate, is that of WELL.\nand all the MSS.; but LIN. has put \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1, _providential_ or\n_foreseeing_, into the text, following out a criticism of Lennep on\nPhalaris, which has been stoutly defended by Hermann, in his remarks on\nM\u00fcller's Eumenides (Opusc. VI. v. 2, p. 17). This, however, in the face\nof an express passage of Herodotus (I. 92), as PAL. well observes, has\nbeen done rashly; and now FR. and SCHOE. bring forward inscriptions\nwhich prove that there is not the slightest cause for tampering with the\ntext. I have not been able to learn the substance of Lennep's remarks\notherwise than from the account of them by M\u00fcller in the Anhang, p. 14;\nbut, taken at their highest value, they seem only to prove that a\nvagueness had taken hold of the ancients themselves in respect to the\ndesignation of this temple, not certainly that \u00c6schylus and Herodotus\nboth made a mistake in calling it \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u1fb4\u03b1, or that all the transcribers\nof their texts made a blunder.\n\n\n Note 6 (p. 141).\n \". . . ye Nymphs that love\n The hollow Corycian rock.\"\n\n\"From Delphi, which lies pretty high, the traveller ascended about\n60 stadia, or two hours' travel, till he arrived at the Corycian cave,\ndedicated to Pan and the Nymphs, in which there were many stalactites\nand live fountains.\"--SICKLER. _alte geog_. II. 134.\n\n\n Note 7 (p. 141).\n \"Thee, Bromius, too, I worship.\"\n\nBacchus, so called from \u03b2\u03c1\u03ad\u03bc\u03c9, _fremo_--the roaring or boisterous god.\nHis connection with Apollo (though drinking songs are not so common now\nas they were last century) is obvious enough; and some places of the\nancient poets where the close connection of these two gods is described,\nmay be seen in STAN. The Scholiast to Euripides Ph\u0153nissai (v. 227,\nMatthiae) says expressly that Apollo and Artemis were worshipped on the\none peak of Parnassus, and Bacchus on the other.\n\n\n Note 8 (p. 141).\n \". . . the godless Pentheus.\"\n\n\"A son of Echion and Agave, the daughter of Cadmus. He was the\nsuccessor of Cadmus as king of Thebes, and being opposed to the\nintroduction of the worship of Dionysus in his kingdom, was torn to\npieces by his own mother and two other M\u00e6nads, Ino and Autonoe, who in\ntheir Bacchic frenzy believed him to be a wild beast. The place where\nPentheus suffered death is said to have been Mount Cith\u00e6ron; but,\naccording to some, it was Mount Parnassus.\"--_Myth. Dict._\n\n\n Note 9 (p. 141).\n \"Poseidon's mighty power.\"\n\nNext to Jove, Poseidon is the strongest of the gods, as the element\nwhich he rules demands; and this strength, in works of art, is generally\n{375} indicated by the breadth of chest given to this god. So Homer,\nalso, wishing to magnify Agamemnon, says--\n\n  \"Like to Jove that rules the thunder were his kingly head and eyes;\n  Belted round the loins like Ares; like Poseidon was his breast.\"\n                                                      IL. II. 478.\n\nThe connection of the god of the waters with Delphi is given by\nPausanias x. 5, where it is said, that originally Poseidon possessed the\noracle in common with Gaea; a legend easily explained by the fact, that\nall high mountains necessarily produce copious streams of water of\nwhich, no less than of the waves of ocean, Poseidon is lord.\n\n\n Note 10 (p. 142).\n \"A gray-haired woman, weaker than a child.\"\n\nSTAN. refers here to the account given by Diodorus of the origin of\nthe Delphic oracle, c. xvi. 26, where he relates, that in the most\nancient times the prophetess was a young woman; but that, afterwards,\none Echecrates, a Spartan, being smitten with the beauty of a\nprophetess, had offered violence to her, in consequence of which an\nedict was published by the Delphians, forbidding any female to assume\nthe office of Pythoness till she was fifty years old.\n\n\n Note 11 (p. 142).\n          \". . . the ravenous crew\n That filched the feast of Phineus.\"\n\nThe Harpies; who, from the names given to them in Homer and Hesiod (and\nspecially from Odyssey xx. 66 and 77 compared) seem to have been\nimpersonations of sudden and tempestuous gusts of wind; though, again,\nit is not impossible that these winds may be symbolical of the\nrapacious power of swift and sudden death--\n\n  \"Venit Mors velociter\n  Rapit nos atrociter,\"\n\nas suggested by BRAUN. See the article by Dr. SCHMITZ in the\nBiographical Dictionary.\n\n\n Note 12 (p. 142).\n \"Such uncouth sisterhood, apparel'd so.\"\n\nWith regard to the dress of the Furies, STAN. quotes a curious\npassage from Diogenes Laertius, which I shall translate:--\"Menedemus,\nthe Cynic,\" says he, \"went to such fantastic excess as to go about in\nthe dress of the Furies, saying, that he was sent as a visitant of\nhuman iniquity from Hades, that he might descend again, and report to\nthe Infernal powers. His garb was as follows--a dun-coloured tunic\n(\u03c7\u03b9\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd) reaching down to the feet, girt with a crimson sash; on his\nhead an Arcadian cap, with the twelve signs of the Zodiac inwoven;\ntragic buskins, a very long beard, and an ashen rod in his hand.\"--VI.\n9. 2. The Romans were once put to flight by the Gauls, dressed in the\nterrible garb of the Furies, with burning torches in their\nhands.--LIVY VII. 17.\n\n\n Note 13 (p. 143).\n \". . . A bitter pasture truly\n Was thine from Fate.\"\n\nSo I have thought it best to translate somewhat freely \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd\u03b4\u03b5\n\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03ba\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03cd\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd in order to express the original meaning of the\nverb \u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03ba\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9. In this I have followed M\u00dcLLER--_diese\nSchmerzentrift zu weiden._ This is surely more pregnant and poetical\nthan to say with FR. \"_Diese Lebensbahn durcheilend._\" The idea of\n_soothing_ and _beguiling_, the only one given by {376} Hesychius,\ncannot apply to this place. PAL., who agrees with me in this,\ntranslates the word in both places of our author where it occurs (here\nand in Agam. 655) by \"_brooding over_\" which differs little from my\nidea of _feeding on_.\n\n\n Note 14 (p. 143).\n \"Her ancient image.\"\n\n\"The image of Athena Pallas, on the citadel, which existed in the days\nof Pausanias, and had maintained for ages its place here by a sort of\ninviolable holiness. In the narrow area of the temple, on the\nnorth-east slope of the Acropolis, Erechtheus had placed a carved\nimage, either first made by himself, or, perhaps, fallen from Heaven;\nand round this, as a centre, the most ancient groups of Attic religion\nand legend assembled themselves.\"--GERHARD, \"_\u00fcber die Minerven\nIdole Athen's,_\" quoted by SCHOE.\n\n\n Note 15 (p. 144).\n \"Behold these wounds.\"\n\nI am not able to see what objection lies against the literal rendering\nof\n\n  \u1f41\u03c1\u03ac \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03bb\u03b7\u03b3\u1f70\u03c2 \u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03b4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03b4\u03af\u1fb4 \u03c3\u03ad\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd,\n\nas I read with FR. and LINW. PAL. and SCHOE. take \u03c0\u03bb\u03b7\u03b3\u1f70\u03c2\nmetaphorically to signify the contumelious language used by\nClytemnestra to the Furies; but this is surely rather going out of the\nway. If there were any necessity for deserting the literal meaning, I\nwould rather take Hermann's way of turning it (Opusc. VI. v. 2, p. 28),\nand read--\n\n           \u1f41\u03c1\u03ac \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03bb\u03b7\u03b3\u1f70\u03c2 \u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03b4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03b4\u03b9\u03ac\u03c2 \u1f43\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd.\n  _Siehe diese Wunden meines Herzens woher sie kommen!_\n\n\n Note 16 (p. 144).\n \"Read with thy heart; some things the soul may scan\n More clearly, when the sensuous lid hath dropt,\n Nor garish day confounds.\"\n\nThis method of speaking is quite in keeping with ancient ideas on the\nnature of the connection 'twixt mind and body, as SCHOE. has proved\nfrom Galen (K\u00fchn. Med. gr. V. 301). As to the sentiment which follows,\nSTAN. has quoted--\"_Quum ergo est somno sevocatus animus a societate\net a contagione corporis, tum meminit praeteritorum, praesentia cernit,\nfutura providet_\"--Cic. Divinat. I. 30. According to Aelian (var. hist.\nIII. 11). the Peripatetics held the same opinion.\n\n\n Note 17 (p. 144).\n \"Once Clytemnestra famous, now a dream.\"\n\nThere is another translation of this passage--the old one in STAN.--\n\n  \"_In somno enim vos nunc Clytemnestra voco,_\"\n\nto which POT., E. P. Oxon., and M\u00dcL. adhere; but I cannot help\nthinking with Hermann (Opusc. VI. p. ii. 30), that it is rather flat\n(_matt_) when compared with the other. Which of the two the poet meant\ncannot perhaps be settled now, as the meaning might depend on the\nrhetorical accent which the player was taught to give by the poet; but I\nam certain that the version in the text, sanctioned as it is by\nWAKEFIELD, SCH\u00dcTZ, HERM., LIN., and PAL. does not deserve to\nbe stigmatised (in E. P.'s language) as \"fanciful nonsense.\" When\nClytemnestra calls herself \"a dream,\" she uses the same sort of language\nwhich Achilles does to Ulysses regarding his own unsubstantial state as\na Shade.--Odys. XI.\n\n{377}\n\n\n Note 18 (p. 144).\n                              \". . . and seeks\n For help from those that are no friends to me.\"\n\nI have thought it better to retain the old and most obvious\ninterpretation of this passage; not seeing any proof that\n\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03af\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03b5\u03c2 can be used in this general way as applied to the\ngods who are supplicated, without being affixed as an epithet to some\nspecial god; as when we say \u0396\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c6\u03af\u03ba\u03c4\u03c9\u03c1 (Suppl. I.)\n\n\n Note 19 (p. 144).\n\nCHORUS. Whether Hermann in his \"_Dissertatio de Choro Eumenidum_\"\n(Leipzig, 1816) was the first that directed special attention to the\npeculiar character of this Chorus as indicated by the Scholiast, I do\nnot know (Wellauer says so, and I presume he knew). Certain it is that\nPOT., by neglecting this indication, has lost a great deal of the\ndramatic effect of this part of the tragedy. The style of the chorus is\ndecidedly fitful and exclamatory throughout, and must have formed a\nbeautiful contrast to the steady stability of the solemn hymn that\nfollows, beginning, \"_Mother night that bore me_.\" As to the particular\ndistribution of the parts of this chorus, that is a matter on which, as\nSCHOE. remarks, no two critics are likely to agree; nor is minute\naccuracy in this respect, even if it were attainable, a matter of any\nimportance to the dramatic effect of the composition as now read. The\nonly thing to be taken care of is, that we do not blend in a false\ncontinuity what was evidently spoken fitfully, and by different\nspeakers, with a sort of _staccato_ movement, as the musicians express\nit. This is POT.'s grand error, not only here, but in many other of\nthe choral parts of our poet; and, in this view, some of Hermann's\nremarks (Opusc. VI. 2, 38) on M\u00fcller's division are perfectly just. As\nfor myself, by distributing the parts of the chorus among three voices,\nI mean nothing more than that these parts were likely spoken by separate\nvoices. Scholefield and Dyer's view (Classical Museum, Vol. I. p. 281),\nthat there were three principal Furies prominent above the rest in this\npiece, is not improbable, but admits of no proof. In my versification I\nhave endeavoured to imitate the rapid Dochmiacs of the original.\n\n\n Note 20 (p. 145).\n \"Thou being young dost overleap the old.\"\n\nThe idea of a succession of celestial dynasties proceeding on a system\nof \"development,\" as a certain class of modern philosophers are fond to\nexpress it, is characteristic of the Greek mythology.--(See p. 47 above,\nAntistrophe I.) The Furies, according to all the genealogies given of\nthem, were more ancient gods than Apollo, with whom they are here\nbrought, into collision. Our poet, as we shall see in the opening\ninvocation of the first grand choral hymn of this piece, makes them the\ndaughters of most ancient NIGHT, who, according to the Theogony (v.\n123), proceeded immediately from the aboriginal CHAOS. Hesiod himself\nmakes the Erinyes, along with the giants, to be produced from the blood\nof Uranus, when his genitals were cut off by Kronos (Theog. 185); a\ngenealogy, by the way, quite in consistency with the Homeric\nrepresentation given in the Introductory Remarks, of the origin of the\nFuries from the curses uttered by injured persons, worthy of special\nveneration, on those by whom their sacrosanct character had been\nviolated.\n\n{378}\n\n\n Note 21 (p. 147).\n \"But where beheading, eye-out-digging dooms.\"\n\nIn this enumeration of horrors I have omitted \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c7\u03bb(\u03bf)\u03c5\u03bd\u03b9\u03c2,\nconcerning which LIN. says, \"_Omnino de hoc loco maximis in tenebris\nversamur; nam neque de lectione, neque de verborum significatione certi\nquidquam constat._\"\n\n\n Note 22 (p. 147).\n          \"She was murdered here,\n That murdered first her husband.\"\n\nThe reasons given by WELL. and HER. (Opusc. vi. 2. 42.) why the two\nlines, 203-4 W., should not both be given with STAN., SCH\u00dcTZ, and\nM\u00dcL., to Apollo, have satisfied LIN., PAL., FR., SCHOE.,\nDR., E. P. Oxon., and BUT. Certainly the epithets \u1f45\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 and\n\u03b1\u03c5\u03b8\u03ad\u03bd\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 (which latter the Scholiast interprets \u03bc\u03b9\u03b1\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2) sound anything\nbut natural in the mouth of Apollo. The emphasis put on \u1f43\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 in this\nvery connection by the Furies, in v. 575, _infra_, noted by Hermann,\nshould decide the question.\n\n\n Note 23 (p. 147).\n \". . . matrimonial Hera.\"\n\nLiterally the _perfect_ Hera, the _perfecting_ or _consummating_ Hera,\n\u1f2c\u03c1\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1, marriage being considered the sacred consummating ceremony\nof social life, and, therefore, designated among the Greeks by the same\nterm, \u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2, which they used to express initiation into the Eleusinian\nmysteries. As Jove presides over all important turns in human fate,\nthere is also necessarily a \u0396\u1f72\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2. See BLOM. Agam. 946, and\nPassow _in voce_ \u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2. Conf. \u00c6n. iii. 605, _Juno pronuba._\n\n\n Note 24 (p. 147).\n \"The nuptial bed, to man and woman fated.\"\n\nSTAN. has remarked that this word _fated_, \u03bc\u03bf\u03c1\u03c3\u03af\u03bc\u03b7, so applied, is\nHomeric (Od. XVI. 392); and, indeed, though we seem to choose our\nwives, we choose them oft-times so strangely, that a man may be said,\nwithout exaggeration, to have as little to do with his marriage as with\nhis birth or his death--but all the three in a peculiar sense belong to\nthat \u039c\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b1, or divine lot, which distributes all the good and evil of\nwhich human life is made up.\n\n\n Note 25 (p. 149).\n\nCHORUS. For the arrangement of this Chorus I refer the reader back to\nwhat I said on the previous one. The concluding part I have here\narranged as an Epode, because it seems more continuous in its idea than\nwhat precedes--less violent and exclamatory.\n\n\n Note 26 (p. 150).\n \"On Libyan plains beside Tritonian pools.\"\n\n\u00c6schylus here follows the tradition of Apollodorus (I. 3, \u00a7 6), that\nthe epithet \u03a4\u03c1\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf\u03b3\u03ad\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1, given by Homer to Pallas, was derived from the\nlake Tritonis in Libya, near which she is said to have been born.\nCompare Virgil \u00c6n. IV. 480.\n\n\n Note 27 (p. 150).\n     \". . . with forward foot firm planted,\n Erect, or with decorous stole high-seated.\"\n\nI have not the slightest doubt that \u03c4\u03af\u03b8\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd (\u03bf)\u03c1\u03b8\u1f78\u03bd \u03c0\u03cc\u03b4\u03b1 in this\npassage can only mean to _plant the foot down firmly and stand erect_;\nif so, \u03c4\u03af\u03b8\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b5\u03c6\u1fc6 \u03c0\u03cc\u03b4\u03b1 can only mean to _sit_, \"the feet being\ncovered by the robes while {379} sitting\"--LIN.; so also PAL. and\nSCHOE. Sitting statues of the gods were very common in ancient times,\nas we see in the Egyptian statues, and in the common representations of\nthe Greek and Roman Jupiter (see Thirlwall's History of Greece, c. VI.).\nI am sorry that Hermann (p. 57) should have thrown out the idea that\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b5\u03c6\u1fc6\u03c2 in this passage may mean \"enveloped in clouds,\" which has\nbeen taken up by Franz--\n\n  \"Sichtbar sic jezt herschreitet, oder Wolkumh\u00fcllt,\"\n\nbecause manifestly \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b5\u03c6\u1fc6\u03c2, in this sense, forms no natural contrast\nto \u1f40\u03c1\u03b8\u1f78\u03c2. The \"_forward foot firm-planted_,\" I have taken from M\u00fcller's\nnote, p. 112, as, perhaps, pointing out more fully what may have been\nin the poet's eye, without, however, meaning to assert seriously\nagainst a severe critic like Hermann, that the words of the text\nnecessarily imply anything of the kind.\n\n\n Note 28 (p. 150).\n \"The ordered battle on Phlegrean fields\n Thou musterest.\"\n\nThe peninsula of Pallene in Macedonia, as also the district of Campania\nabout Bai\u00e6 and Cumae, were called Phlegraean, or _fire-fields_ (\u03c6\u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03c9),\nin all likelihood from the volcanic nature of the country, to which\nStrabo (Lib. V. p. 245) alludes. These volcanic movements in the\nreligious symbolism of early Greece became giants; and against these\nthe Supreme Wisdom and his wise daughter had to carry on a war worthy\nof gods.\n\n\n Note 29 (p. 151).\n\nCHORAL HYMN. \"This sublime hymn is of a character, in some respects,\nkindred to the \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b4\u03ad\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2, or incantations of antiquity, which were\ndirected to Hermes, the Earth, and other infernal Deities for the\npurpose of _binding down_ certain hated persons to destruction. For this\nreason it is called \u1f55\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b4\u03ad\u03c3\u03bc\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2. This character is specially\nindicated by the refrain or burden, which occurs in the first pair of\nStrophes; such repetitions containing the emphatic words of the\nincantation being common in all magical odes. So in Theocritus (Idyll.\n2), we have constantly repeated, '_Iungx, bring me the man, the man whom\nI mean, to my dwelling,_' and, in the song of the Fates at the marriage\nof Thetis in Catullus, the line--'_Currite ducentes subtemina, currite\nfusi!_' and there can be no question, the movements and gestures of the\nFuries while singing this hymn were such as to indicate the scapeless\nnet of woe with which they were now encompassing their victim.\"--M\u00dcL.\nThe reader will observe how impressively the metre changes on the\nrecurrence of this burden, the rhythm in the original being P\u00e6onic _v v\nv_--, the agitated nature of which foot, when several times repeated, is\nsufficiently obvious. I have done what I could to make the transition\nand contrast sensible to the modern ear.\n\n\n Note 30 (p. 151).\n \"The seeing and the sightless.\"\n\n\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u03ba\u03cc\u03c3\u03b9, _i.e._ the living and the dead; an expression\nfamiliar to the Greeks, and characteristic of a people who delighted to\nlive in the sun. \u03b2\u03bb\u03ad\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c6\u03ac\u03bf\u03c2--_to look on the light_, is the most\ncommon phrase in the tragedians for to live; and wisely so--\n\n  \"Since light so necessary is to life,\n  And almost life itself, if it be true\n  That light is in the soul,\n  The soul in every part.\"--MILTON.\n\nPOT. has allowed himself to be led quite astray here by a petulant\ncriticism of De Pauw.\n\n{380}\n\n\n Note 31 (p. 151).\n \"The gleeless song, and the lyreless strain.\"\n\n\u1f55\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c6\u03cc\u03c1\u03bc\u03b9\u03b3\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2. \"The musical character of this Choral Hymn must be\nimagined as working upon the feelings with a certain solemn grandeur.\nThe \u03ba\u03b9\u03b8\u03ac\u03c1\u03b1 or lyre is silent; an instrument which, as the Greeks used\nit, always exercised a soothing power, restorative of the equipoise of\nthe mind: only the flute is heard, whose notes, according to the\nunanimous testimony of antiquity, excited feelings, now of thrilling\nexcitement, now of mute awe; always, however, disturbing the just\nemotional tenor of the soul. Assuredly the \u1f55\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c6\u03cc\u03c1\u03bc\u03b9\u03b3\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 in this\nplace is no mere phrase.\"--M\u00dcLLER.\n\n\n Note 32 (p. 152).\n \"This work of labour earnest.\"\n\nI have paraphrased, or rather interpolated, in this Antistrophe, a\nlittle, because I do not see much in it that is either translatable or\nworth translating. A meaning has been squeezed out of the two lines\nbeginning \u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c5\u03b4\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9; but one cannot help feeling, after all, that\nthere is something wrong, and saying with honest Wellauer, \"_certi nihil\nvideo._\" The main idea, shimmering through the first three lines, is\nplain enough--_that the Furies exercise a function, the legitimacy of\nwhich no one is entitled to question._ This the words, \u03bc\u03b7\u03b4 \u03b5\u03c2\n\u1f04\u03b3\u03ba\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f10\u03bb\u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd, plainly indicate; and it is upon this, and SCHOE.'s\nconjectural emendation of the first line--\n\n          \u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c5\u03b4\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03ad\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u1f70 \u03c4\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c1\u03af\u03bc\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2,\n  \"Diesem Gesch\u00e4ft das wir treiben verbleibe man ferne,\"\n\nthat my paraphrase proceeds. With regard to the second part of this\nStrophe, beginning with \u039c\u03ac\u03bb\u03b1 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 (\u1f40)\u03c5\u03bd, I follow WELL. and all the\nlater editors, except SCHOE., in retaining it for metrical reasons, in\nthe place to which Heath transposed it. SCHOE's observations, however,\nare worthy of serious consideration, as it is manifest that, if these\nP\u00e6onic lines be replaced to where they stand in all the old editions,\nviz.:--between \u1f40\u03c1\u03c7\u03b7\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03c4\u1fbd (\u03b5)\u03c0\u03b9\u03c6\u03b8\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03cc\u03c2 and \u03c0\u03b9\u03c0\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b4\u1fbd \u03bf\u03c5\u03ba \u1f40\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03bd,\ntheir connection with what precedes, and also with what follows, will be\nmore obvious than what it is now. FR.'s observation, however, in\nanswer to this, is not to be kept out of view--that this second part of\nthe Antistrophe takes up the idea, as it takes up the measure, with\nwhich the corresponding part of the Strophe, as now arranged, ends,\nviz.--\u03b4\u03b9\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03af \u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u1f78\u03bd \u1f44\u03bd\u03b8, which the reader will find clearly brought\nout in my version--the concluding lines of the P\u00e6onic section of the\nStrophe--\n\n  \"Though fleet we shall find him,\"\n\nbeing taken up in the opening lines of the P\u00e6onic section of the\nAntistrophe--\n\n  \"But swift as the wind,\n  We follow and find.\"\n\n\n Note 33 (p. 154).\n \"The cry that called me from Scamander's banks.\"\n\nThe Sigean territory in the Troad was disputed between the Athenians and\nthe people of Mitylene; which strife Herodotus informs us (V. 94) ended,\nby the activity of Pisistratus, in favour of the Athenians--B.C. 606. In\nthat same territory, continues the historian, there was a temple of\nPallas, where the Athenians hung up the arms of the poet Alc\u00e6us, who,\nthough \"_ferox bello_,\" had been obliged to flee from the battle which\ndecided the matter in favour of the Athenians. \u00c6schylus, like a true\npatriot and poet, throws the claim of the Athenians to this territory as\nfar back into the heroic times as possible; and, by the words put into\nthe mouth of Athena, makes the claim {381} on the part of the Lesbians\ntantamount to sacrilege.--See SCHOLIAST and STAN.\n\n\n Note 34 (p. 155).\n \"He'll neither swear himself, nor take my oath.\"\n\n\"The Greek words, \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb \u1f45\u03c1\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd \u1f40\u03c5 \u03b4\u03b5\u03be\u03b1\u03b9\u03c4 \u1f04\u03bd, \u1f40\u03c5 \u03b4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b8\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9 have, in the\njuridical language of Athens, decidedly only this meaning; and, in the\npresent passage, there is no reasonable ground for taking them in any\nother sense, though it is perfectly true that in some passages, \u1f45\u03c1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\n\u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03cc\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 signifies simply to _swear_, and \u1f45\u03c1\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u03ad\u03c7\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9, _to accept an\nattestation on oath._\"--SCHOEMANN.\n\n\n Note 35 (p. 155).\n \"In old Ix\u00edon's guise.\"\n\n\"Ix\u00edon was the son of Phlegyas, his mother Dia, a daughter of Deioneus.\nHe was king of the Lapith\u00e6, or Phlegyes, and the father of Peirithous.\nWhen Deioneus demanded of Ix\u00edon the bridal gifts he had promised, Ix\u00edon\ntreacherously invited him as though to a banquet, and then contrived to\nmake him fall into a pit filled with fire. As no one purified Ix\u00edon\nfrom this treacherous murder, and all the gods were indignant at him,\nZeus took pity on him, purified him, and invited him to his\ntable.\"--_Mythol. Dict._\n\n\n Note 36 (p. 156).\n \"The ancient city of famous Priam thou\n Didst sheer uncity.\"\n\nThe original \u1f04\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd \u0399\u03bb\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd \u1f14\u03b8\u03b7\u03ba\u03b1\u03c2, contains a mannerism of the\ntragedians too characteristic to be omitted. 'Tis one of the many\ntricks of that wisdom of words which the curious Greeklings sought,\nand did not find, in the rough Gospel of St. Paul.\n\n\n Note 37 (p. 156).\n \"For thee, in that thou comest to my halls.\"\n\nThe best exposition that I have seen of the various difficulties of\nthis speech, is that of SCHOE., unfortunately too long for extract.\nAs to \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03c4\u1f7a\u03ba\u1f7c\u03c2, LIN. has, in the notes to his edition, justly\ncharacterised his own translation of it, in the Dictionary as\n_durissimum_. The first \u1f43\u03bc\u03c9\u03c2, of course, must go; and there is nothing\nbetter than changing it with PAUW, M\u00dcLL., and SCHOE., into\n\u1f10\u03bc(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c2. The second \u1f45\u03bc\u03c9\u03c2 must likewise go; say \u1f41\u03c3\u03b9\u1f7c\u03c2 with M\u00dcLL. or\n\u1f45\u03c5\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 with SCHOE. There is then no difficulty.\n\n\n Note 38 (p. 157).\n\nCHORAL HYMN. This chorus contains a solemn enumeration of some of the\nmain texts of Greek morality, and is in that view very important. The\nleading measure is the heptasyllabic trochaic verse so common in\nEnglish, varied with cretics and dactyles. I have amused myself with\ngiving a sort of imitation of the rhythm, so far as the trochees and\ncretics are concerned; to introduce the dactyles in the places where\nthey occur, would produce--as I found by experiment--a tripping effect\naltogether out of keeping with the general solemnity of the piece.\n\n\n Note 39 (p. 158).\n \"But who sports, a careless liver.\"\n\n'Tis impossible not to agree with SCHOE. that these two lines are\ncorrupt beyond the hope of emendation. He proposes to read--\n\n  \u03c4\u03af\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03bc\u03b7\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u1f10\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03b2\u03b5\u1fd6\n  \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03b4\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f04\u03b3\u1fb3 \u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd.\n\n{382}\n\nA very ingenious restoration; and one which, as matters now stand, I\nshould have little scruple in introducing into the text; but, for\npoetical purposes, I have not been willing to lose the image with which\nthe present reading, \u1f10\u03bd \u03c6\u03ac\u03b5\u03b9, supplies me and FR.--\n\n  \"Wer der nicht bei Wonneglanz\n  Trauer auch im Herzen hegt,\" etc.\n\n\n Note 40 (p. 158).\n \"To the wise mean strength is given,\n Thus the gods have ruled in heaven.\"\n\nThis is one of those current common-places of ancient wisdom, which are\nnow so cheap to the ear, but are still as remote from the general temper\nand the public heart as they were some thousands of years ago, when\nfirst promulgated by some prophetic Phemonoe of the Primeval Pelasgi.\nThe great philosopher of common sense, Aristotle, seized this maxim, as\nthe groundwork of practical ethics, some three hundred years before\nChrist--\u1ffe\u03a6\u03b8\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1, says he, \u1f21 \u03c3\u03c9\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03cd\u03bd\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f21 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03b5\u03af\u03b1 \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2\n\u1f51\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b2\u03bf\u03bb\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c8\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2, \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c3\u03cc\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c3\u03ce\u03b6\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9; and Horace,\nthe poet of common sense, preached many a quiet, tuneful sermon to the\nsame ancient text--\n\n  \"Auream quisquis mediocritatem\n  Diligit, tutus caret obsoleti\n  Sordibus tecti, caret invidenda\n    Sobrius aula.\"\n\n\n Note 41 (p. 158).\n \"Pride, that lifts itself unduly.\"\n\nI will not multiply citations here to show the reader how this pride or\ninsolence of disposition, \u1f53\u03b2\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2 (the German _Uebermuth_), is marked by\nthe Greek moralists as the great source of all the darker crimes with\nwhich the annals of our floundering race are stained (See Note, p. 349\nabove). They are wrong who tell us that Humility is a Christian and not\na Heathen virtue: no doubt the name \u03c4\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03cd\u03bd\u03b7, used in the New\nTestament, was not the fashionable one among the Greeks: but that they\nhad the thing, every page of their poetry testifies, with this\ndifference, however, to be carefully noted, that while Heathen humility\nis founded solely on a sense of dependence, Christian humility proceeds\nalso, and perhaps more decidedly, from a sense of guilt. Neither does\nthe phraseology of Heathen and Christian writers on this subject differ\nalways so much as people seem to imagine; between the \u03bc\u03b7 \u1f50\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03bd\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1 \u1f43 \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd of St. Paul (Rom. xii. 3), and the \u1f40\u03c5\u03b4\u03b5\u03c0\u03ce\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 \u1f50\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\n\u1f04\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03c6\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1 of Xenophon (Cyropaed. VIII), it were a foolish\nsubtlety that should attempt to make a distinction.\n\n\n Note 42 (p. 159).\n \"Give the air-shattering Tyrrhene trump free voice.\"\n\n\"It is a correct and significant observation made by the Scholiast on\nIliad XVIII. 219, that Homer never mentions the trumpet (\u03c3\u03ac\u03bb\u03c0\u03b9\u03b3\u03be) in\nthe narrative part of his poem, but only for a comparison: familiar as\nhe was with the instrument, he was not ignorant that the use of it was\nnew, and not native in Greece. Indeed, it was never universally\nadopted in that country: the Spartans and Cretans marching into battle,\nfirst to the accompaniment of the lyre, and afterwards of the flute.\nThe tragedians again are quite familiar with the Tuscan origin of the\ntrumpet, though they make no scruple of introducing it into their\ndescriptions of the Hellenic heroic age\"--M\u00dcLL.; Etrusker I. p. 286.\n\n{383}\n\n\n Note 43 (p. 160).\n\n_Enter_ APOLLO. Here commences a debate between the daughters of Night\nand the god accusing and defending, which, as Grote (History of Greece,\nI. 512) remarks, is \"eminently curious.\" And not only curious, but\nunfortunately, to our modern sense at least, not a little ludicrous in\nsome places. The fact is, that the strange moral contradictions and\ninconsistencies so common in the Greek mythology, so long as they are\nconcealed or palliated under a fair imaginative show, give small\noffence; but when placed before the understanding, in order to be\ninterrogated by the strict forms of judicial logic, they necessarily\nproduce a collision with our practical reason and a smile is the result.\n\n\n Note 44 (p. 161)\n                  \". . . himself did bind\n With bonds his hoary-dated father Kronos.\"\n\n\"In the fable of the binding of Kronos by his son Jove, \u00c6schylus saw\nnothing disrespectful to the character of the supreme ruler, but only\nthe imaginative embodiment of the fact, that one celestial dynasty had\nbeen succeeded by another. The image of binding, and of the battles of\nthe Titans generally, might seem to his mind not the most appropriate;\nbut the offence that lay in them was softened not a little by the\nconsideration that the enchainment of Kronos and the Titans was only a\ntemporary affair, leading to a reconciliation. The result was, that the\nTitans themselves at last acknowledged the justice of their punishment,\nand submitted themselves to Jove, as the alone legitimate ruler of\nEarth; and Herr Welcker is quite wrong in supposing that either here, or\nin the Agamemnon, or the Prometheus, there is any indication that the\nmind of \u00c6schylus was fundamentally at war with his age in regard to the\ncelestial dynasties.\"--SCHOEMANN's Prometheus, p. 97.\n\n\n Note 45 (p. 162).\n                         \". . . How\n With any clanship share lustration?\"\n\nOr, with BUCK., \"what laver of his tribe shall receive him?\"--the\nword in the original being \u03c6\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03cc\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd. The ancient Hellenic tribes\n\u03c6\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9 were social unions, founded originally in the family tie, and\nafterwards extended. These unions had certain religious ceremonies\nwhich they performed in common, and to which allusion is here made.\n(Compare Livy VI. 40, 41, _nos privatim auspicia habemus_ of the\nPatrician families.) To be \u1f00\u03c6\u03c1\u03ae\u03c4\u03c9\u03c1, or _excluded from a tribe_ (Il.\nIX. 63), was among the Greeks of the heroic ages a penalty half-civil,\nhalf-religious, similar in character to the _excommunication_ of the\nmiddle ages. Of this extremely interesting subject, the English reader\nwill find a most luminous exposition in GROTE's _Greece_, vol. iii.\np. 74.\n\n\n Note 46 (p. 162).\n   \". . . whom we call\n The mother begets not.\"\n\nStrange as this doctrine may seem to our modern physiologists, it seems\nfounded on a very natural notion; and to the Greeks, who had such a low\nestimate of women, must have appeared perfectly orthodox. The same\ndoctrine is enunciated by the poet in the Suppliants, v. 279, when he\nsays, \"the male artist has imprinted a Cyprian character on your female\nfeatures\"--the image being borrowed from the art of coining. And this,\nlike many fancies cherished by the Greeks, seems to have had its home\noriginally in {384} Egypt. STAN. quotes from Diodorus I. 80, who\nsays--\"The Egyptians count none of their sons bastards, not even the\nsons of a bought slave. For they are of opinion that the father is the\nonly author of generation; the mother but supplieth space and\nnourishment to the f\u0153tus.\" In the play of Euripides, Orestes uses the\nsame argument (Orest. 543).\n\n\n Note 47 (p. 162).\n \"Now, hear my ordinance, Athenians!\"\n\nThis address of the goddess, of practical wisdom, in constituting the\nCourt of the Areopagus, was pointed by the poet directly against the\ndemocratic spirit, in his day beginning to become rampant in Athens; and\nis applicable not less to all times in which great and, perhaps,\nnecessary social changes take place. The poet states, with the most\nsolemn distinctness, that the mere love of liberty will never protect\nliberty from degenerating into licentiousness; but that a religious\nreverence for law is as essential to society as a religious jealousy of\ndespotism. Only he who profoundly fears God can dispense with the fear\nof man; and he who fears both God and man is the only good citizen.\n\n\n Note 48 (p. 162).\n                         \". . . Here, on this hill,\n The embattled Amazons pitched their tents of yore.\"\n\nThe Amazons, \"as strong as men\" (\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03ac\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9, Il. III. 189),\nare famous in the history of the Trojan war; and their expedition\nagainst Athens, mentioned here, was familiar to every Athenian eye, from\nthe painting in the _Stoa P\u0153cile_, described by Pausanias (I. 15). As\nto the historical reality of these hardy females, the sober Arrian (VII.\n13) is by no means inclined (after the modern German fashion) to brush\nthem, with a stroke of his pen, out of the world of realities; and,\nconsidering what a strange and strangely adaptable creature man is, I\nsee no reason why we should be sceptical as to their historical\nexistence.\n\n\n Note 49 (p. 163).\n \"Thou say'st.\"\n\n\"This is an ancient way of replying to a captious question, as we see\nin the Gospel (Matth. xxvii.), where, when Pilate asks, 'art thou the\nking of the Jews,' our Lord, Jesus Christ, answers in these very words\n\u03a3\u03c5 \u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2--'_Thou say'st._'\"--STAN.\n\n\n Note 50 (p. 163).\n \"Such were thy deeds in Pheres' house.\"\n\n\"Alluding to Admetus, son of Pheres, whom Apollo raised from the dead,\nhaving obtained this boon from the Fates, on condition that some one\nshould die in his stead.--See the well-known play of Euripides, the\nAlcestes.\"--STAN. The Scholiast on that play, v. 12, as Dindorf notes,\nremarks that, on this occasion, Apollo moved the inflexible goddesses by\nthe potent influence of wine. This is alluded to a few lines below.\n\n\n Note 51 (p. 164).\n \". . . all my father lives in me.\"\n\n\u03ba\u03ac\u03c1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b4\u1fbd \u03b5\u03b9\u03bc\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2; specially wisdom and energy.--So Milton--\n\n  \"All my father shines in me.\"--Paradise Lost, VII.\n\nCompare the Homeric epithet of Pallas \u1f41\u03b2\u03c1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03c0\u03ac\u03c4\u03c1\u03b7 with N\u00e4gelsbach's\nComprehensive Commentary--Hom. Theologie, p. 100.\n\n{385}\n\n\n Note 52 (p. 164).\n\n_Apollo_, FR., who examined the Medicean Codex, says that there is\nhere discernible the mark which introduces a new speaker. Who that\nspeaker is, however, the sense does not allow us to decide; but Orestes\nand the Chorus having spoken, I do not see why Apollo, who showed such\neagerness before, should not now also, put in his word; and, therefore,\ndeserting WELL., I follow the old arrangement of VICT. and STAN.\n\n\n Note 53 (p. 167).\n \"Sharing alone the strong keys that unlock\n His thunder-halls.\"\n\nAs Pallas possesses all her father's characteristic qualities of wisdom\nand strength, so she is entitled to wield all his instruments, and even\nthe thunder. STAN. quotes--\n\n  \"Ipsa (Pallas) Jovis rapidum jaculata e nubibus ignem.\"--Virgil, \u00c6N.\n    I. 46.\n\nAnd Wakefield compares CALLIM, Lavac. Pall, 132. So the _aegis_, or\n_shield of dark-rushing storms_ (\u1f00\u03b9\u03c3\u03c3\u03c9), belongs to Pallas no less than\nto Zeus (Il. V. 738).\n\n\n Note 54 (p. 167).\n                  \". . . thou shalt hold\n An honoured seat beside Erectheus' home.\"\n\nErectheus, who, as his name signifies (\u1f14\u03c1\u03b1\u03b6\u03b5, _Eretz_, Heb., _Erde_,\nTeut., _Earth_), was the earth-born, or Adam of Attic legend, had a\ntemple on the Acropolis, beside the temple of the city-protecting\n(\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03ac\u03c2) Pallas, of which the ruins yet remain. The cave of the Furies\nwas on the Hill of Mars, directly opposite.--See Introductory Remarks.\n\n\n Note 55 (p. 168).\n                             \". . . save my city\n From brothered strife, and from domestic brawls.\"\n\nIt was a principle with the Romans that no victory in a civil war\nshould be followed by a triumph; and, accordingly, in the famous\ntriumph of Julius C\u00e6sar, which lasted three days, there was nothing to\nremind the Roman eye that the conqueror of Pharsalia had ever plucked a\nleaf from Pompey's laurels. In v. 826, I read with M\u00dcL. \u1f40\u03c5 \u03b4\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd, the present reading, \u03bc\u03cc\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2, being clumsy any way that I have\nseen it translated.\n\n\n Note 56 (p. 169).\n \"The fortress of gods.\"\n\nThis designation is given to Athens with special reference to the\nPersian wars; for the Persians destroyed everywhere the temples of the\nGreek gods (only in the single case of Delos are they said to have made\nan exception), and the Athenians, in conquering the Persians, saved not\nonly their own lives, but the temples of the gods from destruction.\n\n\n Note 57 (p. 169).\n \"Woe to the wretch, by their wrath smitten.\"\n\nWELL., as usual, is too cautious in not changing \u03bc\u1f74 \u03ba\u03cd\u03c1\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 into \u03b4\u1f74\n\u03ba\u03cd\u03c1\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 with PAUW and M\u00dcL., or \u03bc\u1f74\u03bd with LIN. and SCHOE.\n\n\n Note 58 (p. 169).\n \"Not for his own, for guilt inherited.\"\n\n\"The sins of the fathers, as in the Old Testament, so also among the\nGreeks, are visited on the children even to the third and fourth\ngeneration; nay, even the idea of original sin, derived from the Titanic\nmen of the early ages, and exhibiting itself as a rebellious inclination\nagainst the gods more or less in all--this essentially Christian idea\nwas not altogether unknown to the ancient Greeks.\"--SCHOEMANN.\n\n{386}\n\n\n Note 59 (p. 170).\n \"And, when Hermes is near thee.\"\n\nWhat we call a \"god-send,\" or a \"wind-fall,\" was called by the Greeks\n\u1f13\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, or a thing given by the grace of Hermes. In his original\ncapacity as the patron god of Arcadian shepherds, Hermes was, in like\nmanner, looked on as the giver of patriarchal wealth in the shape of\nflocks.--Il. xiv. 490.\n\n\n Note 60 (p. 170).\n \"Ye Fates, high-presiding.\"\n\nThere is no small difficulty in this passage, from the state of the\ntext; but, unless it be the Furies themselves that are spoken of, as\nKL. imagines (Theol. p. 45), I cannot think there are any celestial\npowers to whom the strong language of the Strophe will apply but the\nFates. If the former supposition be adopted, we must interrupt the\nchaunt between Athena and the Furies, putting this Strophe into the\nmouth of the Areopagites, as, indeed, KL. proposes; but this seems\nrather a bold measure, and has found no favour. It remains, therefore,\nonly to make such changes in the text as will admit of the application\nof the whole passage to the Fates, who stand in the closest relation to\nthe Furies, as is evident from Strophe III. of the chorus (p. 146\nabove). This M\u00dcL. has done; and I follow him, not, however, without\ndesiring some more distinct proof that \u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03b3\u03bd\u1fc6\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9, in Greek, can\npossibly mean sisters.--See SCHOE.'s note.\n\n\n Note 61 (p. 170).\n \"Jove, that rules the forum, nobly\n In the high debate hath conquered.\"\n\n\u0396\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1f00\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u1fb6\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2. The students of Homer may recollect the appeal of\nTelemachus to the Ithacans in council assembled (Odys. II. 68). Jove,\nas we have already had occasion to remark, has a peculiar right of\npresidency over every grand event of human life, and every important\nsocial institution; so that, on certain occasions, the Greek Polytheism\nbecomes, for the need, a Monotheism--somewhat after the same fashion as\nthe aristocratic Government of the old Roman Republic had the power of\nsuddenly changing itself, on important occasions, into an absolute\nmonarchy, by the creation of a Dictator.\n\n\n Note 62 (p. 172).\n \"Gracious-minded sisterhood.\"\n\nThe Furies were called \u0395\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03af\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2, or gracious, to propitiate their\nstern deity by complimentary language. Suidas says (_voc_. \u0395\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03af\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2)\nthat Athena, in this play, calls the Furies expressly by this name; but\nthe fact is, that it does not occur in the whole play. Either,\ntherefore, the word \u1f14\u03c5\u03c6\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd, which I have translated \"gracious-minded\"\nin the play, must be considered to have given occasion to the remark of\nthe lexicographer (which seems sufficient), or, with HERMANN and\nSCHOE., we must suppose something to have fallen out of the present\nspeech.\n\n\nNOTE.\n\nOn p. 132, after the _dramatis person\u00e6_, I perceive that I have stated\nthat the scene of this piece changes from Delphi to the _Hill of Mars_,\nAthens. This is either inaccurate, or, at least, imperfect; for the\nfirst change of scene is manifestly (as stated p. 148), to the temple of\nAthena Pallas, on the Acropolis; and, though the imagination naturally\ndesires that the institution of the Court of the Areopagus should take\nplace on the exact seat of its future labours, yet the construction of\nthe drama by no means necessitates another change of scene, and the\nallusion to the Hill of Mars in p. 162 is easily explicable on the\nsupposition that it lies directly opposite the Acropolis, and that\nPallas points to it with her finger.\n\n\n\nNOTES TO PROMETHEUS BOUND\n\n{387}\n\n Note 1 (p. 183).\n \"This Scythian soil, this wild untrodden waste.\"\n\n\"The ancient Greek writers called all the Northern tribes (_i.e._ all\nwho dwelt in the Northern parts of Europe and Asia) generally by the\nname of Scythians and Celto-Scythians; while some even more ancient than\nthese make a division, calling those beyond the Euxine, Ister, and\nAdria, Hyperboreans, Sarmatians, and Arimaspi; but those beyond the\nCaspian Sea, Sac\u00e6 and Massaget\u00e6.\" Strabo, Lib. XI. p. 507.--STAN.\n\n\n Note 2 (p. 183).\n \"This daring wretch.\"\n\n\u03bb\u03b5\u03c9\u03c1\u03b3\u1f78\u03bd, a difficult word; \"evil-doer\"--MED. and PROW.;\n_B\u00f6sewicht_--TOELP.; _Freveler_--SCHOE. The other translation of\nthis word--\"artificer of man\" (Potter)--given in the _Etym._ was very\nlikely an invention of Lexicographers to explain this very passage. But\nthe expounders did not consider that _\u00c6schylus_ through the whole play\nmakes no allusion to this function of the fire-worker. It was, I\nbelieve, altogether a recent form of the myth.--See WEISKE. \"The\nprecise etymology of the word is uncertain.\"--LIN.\n\n\n Note 3 (p. 183).\n \". . . a kindred god.\"\n\n\"A fellow deity\"--MED. But this is not enough. Vulcan, as a smith, and\nPrometheus were kindred in their divine functions, for which reason they\nwere often confounded in the popular legends, as in the case of the\nbirth of Pallas from the brain of Jove, effected by the axe, some say of\nHephaestus, some of Prometheus--APOLLODOR. I. 3-6. EURIPID. Ion.\n455; from which passage of the tragedian WELCKER is of opinion that\nPrometheus, not Hephaestus, must have a place in the pediment of the\nParthenon representing the birth of Pallas.--_Class. Museum_, Vol. II.\np. 385.\n\n\n Note 4 (p. 183).\n      \"High-counselled son\n Of right-decreeing Themis.\"\n\nNot CLYMENE according to the Theogony (V. 508) or ASIA, one of the\nOceanides according to Apollodorus (I. 2), which parentage has been\nadopted by SHELLEY in his _Prometheus Unbound_. That \u00c6schylus in\npreferring this maternity meant to represent the Titan as suffering in\nthe cause of _Right_ against _Might_, as Welcker will have it (_Trilog_.\np. 42), is more than doubtful. One advantage, however, is certainly\ngained, viz., that Prometheus is thus brought one degree further up the\nline of ascent in direct progress from the two original divinities of\nthe Theogony--URANUS or HEAVEN, and GEE or the EARTH; for,\naccording to Hesiod, THEMIS is the daughter, CLYMENE only the\ngrand-daughter, of these primeval powers (Theog. 135, 315). Thus,\nPrometheus is invested with more dignity, and becomes a more worthy\nrival of Jove.\n\n\n Note 5 (p. 183).\n \". . . saviour shall be none.\"\n\nI entirely agree with SCHOE. that in the indefinite expression--(\u03bf)\n\u03bb\u03c9\u03c6\u03ae\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f40\u03c5 \u03c0\u03ad\u03c6\u03c5\u03ba\u03ad \u03c0\u03c9 any allusion, such as the Scholiast suggests,\nto {388} HERCULES, the person by whom salvation did at length come,\nwould be in the worst possible taste here, and quite foreign to the\ntone of the passage.\n\n\n Note 6 (p. 184).\n \"Jove is not weak that he should bend.\"\n\nThis character of harshness and inexorability belongs as essentially to\nJOVE as to the FATES. Pallas, in the Iliad, makes the same\ncomplaint--\n\n  \"But my father, harsh and cruel, with no gentle humour raging,\n  Thwarts my will in all things.\"\n                           ILIAD VIII. 360.\n\nWe must bear in mind that Jove represents three things--(1) that iron\nfirmness of purpose which is so essential to the character of a great\nruler; (2) the impetuous violence and resistless power of the heavenly\nelements when in commotion; (3) the immutability of the laws of Nature.\n\n\n Note 7 (p. 184).\n \"All things may be, but this\n To dictate to the gods.\"\n\n\u1f0d\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4 \u1f10\u03c0\u03c1\u03ac\u03c7\u03b8\u03b7 \u03c0\u03bb\u1f74\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd--literally, _all things have been\ndone, save commanding the gods_. I do not know whether there is any\nphilological difficulty in the way of this translation. It certainly\nagrees perfectly well with the context, and has the advantage of not\nchanging the received text. SCHOE., however, adopting HERM.'s\nemendation of \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03c7\u03b8\u1fc6 translates--\n\n  \"Last tr\u00e4gt ein jeder, nur der G\u00f6tter K\u00f6nig nicht.\"\n  \"All have their burdens save the king of the gods.\"\n\nOn the theological sentiment, I would compare that of SENECA--\"_In\nregno nati sumus; Deo parere libertas est_\" (_Vit. Beat._ 15)--and that\nof EURIPIDES, where the captive Trojan queen, finding the king of men,\nAgamemnon, willing to assist her, but afraid of the opinion of the\nGreeks, speaks as follows:--\n\n  \"\u039f\u03c5\u03ba\u1f14\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03b8\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f43\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4 \u1f10\u03bb\u03ad\u03c5\u03b8\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2,\n  \u1f22 \u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03b4(\u03bf)\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd \u1f21 \u03c4\u03cd\u03c7\u03b7\u03c2\n  \u03b7 \u03c0\u03bb\u1fc6\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c5\u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2, \u1f24 \u03bd\u03cc\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd \u03b3\u03c1\u1f24\u03c6\u03b1\u03b9\n  \u1f14\u03b9\u03c1\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c7\u03c1\u1fc6\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u1f74 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03b3\u03bd\u1ff6\u03bc\u03b7\u03bd \u03c4\u03c1\u03cc\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2.\"\n                              HEC. 864.\n\n\n Note 8 (p. 185).\n \"Thou hast been called\n In vain the Provident.\"\n\nThis is merely translating PROMETHEUS (from \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf before, and \u03bc\u1fc6\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2\ncounsel) into English. These allusions to names are very frequent in\n\u00c6schylus--so much so as to amount to a _mannerism_; but we who use a\nlanguage, the heritage of years, a coinage from which the signature has\nbeen mostly rubbed off, must bear in mind that originally all words,\nand especially names, were significant. See the Old Testament\neverywhere (particularly Gen. c. xxix. and xli., with which compare\nHomer, Odyssey xix. 407). And, indeed, in all original languages, like\nGreek or German, which declare their own etymology publicly to the most\nunlearned, no taunt is more natural and more obvious than that derived\nfrom a name. Even in Scotland, a man who is called _Bairnsfather_ will\nbe apt to feel rather awkward if he has no children. \"In the oldest\nGreek legend,\" says WELCKER (_Tril._ p. 356), \"names were frequently\ninvented, in order to fix down the character or main feature of the\nstory\"--(so Bunyan in the Pilgrim's Progress)--a true principle, which\nmany German writers abuse, to evaporate all tradition into mere\nfictitious allegory. But the practice of the Old Testament patriarchs\nshows that the significancy of a name affords of itself no presumption\nagainst its historical reality.\n\n{389}\n\n\n Note 9 (p. 185).\n\n_Prometheus_. The critics remark with good reason the propriety of the\nstout-hearted sufferer observing complete silence up to this point. It\nis natural for pain to find a vent in words, but a proud man will not\ncomplain in the presence of his adversary. Compare the similar silence\nof Cassandra in the Agamemnon; and for reasons equally wise, that of\nFaust in the Auerbach cellar scene. So true is it that a great poet,\nlike a wise man, is often best known, not by what he says, but by what\nhe does _not_ say--(\u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f02\u03b3\u03b1\u03bd \u03b3\u03ac\u03c1 \u03ad\u03c3\u03c4\u03af \u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c3\u03b9\u03b3\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03b2\u03ac\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2, as Sophocles\nhas it). As to the subject of the beautiful invocation here made by the\nTitan sufferer, the reader will observe not merely its poetical beauty\n(to which there is something analogous in Manfred, act I. sc. 2--\n\n                                    \"My mother Earth,\n  And thou fresh-breaking day, and you, ye mountains,\n  And thou the bright eye of the Universe,\")\n\nbut also its mythological propriety in the person of the speaker, as in\nthe early times the original elementary theology common to the Greeks\nwith all polytheists, had not been superseded by those often sadly\ndisguised impersonations which are represented by the dynasty of Jove.\nOCEAN and HYPERION (\u1f51\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03af\u03c9\u03bd--he that walks aloft) are named in the\nTheogony, along with THEMIS and IAPETUS, as the first generation of\ngods, directly begotten from Heaven and Earth.--(Theog. 133-4.) In the\nnatural progress of religious opinion, this original cosmical meaning of\nthe Greek gods, though lost by anthropomorphism to the vulgar, was\nafterwards brought out by the natural philosophers, and by the\nphilosophical poets; of which examples occur everywhere among the later\nclassics. Indeed, the elemental worship seems never to have been\naltogether exploded, but continued to exist in strange confusion along\nwith the congregation of fictitious persons to which it had given birth.\nSo in Homer, Agamemnon prays--\n\n  \"Father Jove from Ida swaying, god most glorious and great,\n  And thou Sun, the all-perceiving and all-hearing power, and ye\n  RIVERS and EARTH,\" etc.--Il. III. 277.\n\n\n Note 10 (p. 185).\n \"The multitudinous laughter.\"\n\n\u1f00\u03bd\u03ae\u03c1\u03b9\u03b8\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03b3\u03ad\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1. I must offer an apology here for myself, Mr. Swayne,\nand Captain Medwyn, because I find we are in a minority. The Captain,\nindeed, has paraphrased it a little--\n\n  \"With long loud laughs, exulting to be free,\"\n\nbut he retains the laugh, which is the stumbling-block. Swayne has\n\n                               \"Ye ocean waves\n  That with incessant laughter bound and swell\n  Countless,\"\n\nalso a little paraphrased, but giving due prominence to the\ncharacteristic idea. E. P. Oxon. has\n\n  \"Ocean smiling with its countless waves,\"\n\nwith a reference to Stanley's note, \"Refertur ad levem sonum undarum\nventis exagitatarum qui etiam aliquantulum _crispant_ maris dorsum\nquasi amabili quadam \u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u1fb3,\" in which words we see the origin of\nPOT.'s--\n\n                                 \"Ye waves\n  That o'er the interminable ocean wreathe\n  Your crisped smiles.\"\n\nPROW. has--\n\n  \"_Dimpled in multitudinous smiles._\"\n\nAnd SCHOE.'s--\n\n  \"_Zahllosses Blinken._\"\n\n{390}\n\nAnd so BLOM. in a note, emphatically--\n\n  \"_Lenis_ fluctuum agitatio.\"\n\nBut why all this gentleness? Does it agree either with the strength of\nthe poet's genius, or with the desolation of the wild scene around his\nhero? I at once admit that \u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u03ac\u03c9 is often used in Greek, where,\naccording to our usage, _smile_ would be the word; but in the Old\nTestament we find the broad strong word _laugh_ often retained in\ndescriptions of nature; and I see not the least reason for walking in\nsatin shoes here.\n\n\n Note 11 (p. 186).\n \". . . in a reed concealed it.\"\n\n\u03bd\u03ac\u03c1\u03b8\u03b7\u03be--\"still used for this purpose in Cyprus, where the reed still\nretains the old Greek name\"--WELCKER, _Tril._ p. 8, who quotes\nWalpole's Memoirs relative to Turkey, p. 284, and Tournefort, Letter\n6. I recollect at school smoking a bit of bamboo cane for a cigar.\n\n\n Note 12 (p. 186).\n \". . . Ah me! ah me! who comes?\"\n\nThe increased agitation of mind is here expressed in the original by\nthe abandonment of the Iambic verse, and the adoption of the\nBacchic--\u03c4\u03af\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c7\u1f7c, etc., which speedily passes into the anap\u00e6st, as\nimitated by my Trochees. Milton was so steeped in Greek, that I think\nhe must have had this passage in his mind when he wrote the lines of\nSamson Agonistes, v. 110, beginning \"_But who are these?_\" Altogether,\nthe Samson is, in its general tone and character, quite a sort of\nJewish Prometheus.\n\n\n Note 13 (p. 187).\n \"Daughters of prolific Tethys.\"\n\nThe ancient sea-goddess, sister and wife of Oceanus, daughter of Heaven\nand Earth. The reader will observe that the mythology of this drama\npreserves a primeval or, according to our phrase, antediluvian character\nthroughout. The mythic personages are true contemporaries belonging to\nthe most ancient dynasty of the gods. For this reason Ocean appears in a\nfuture stage of the play, not _Poseidon_. Tethys, with the other Titans\nand Titanesses are enumerated by Hesiod, Theog. 132-7, as follows--\n\n  \"Earth to Uranus wedded bore Ocean deep with whirling currents,\n  Coeus, Creios, Hyperion, Theia, Rhea, Iapetus,\n  Themis, Mnemosyne, lovely Tethys, likewise Ph\u0153be golden-crowned,\n  Then the youngest of them all, deep-designing Kronos.\"\n\nAs for the epithet _prolific_ applied to _Tethys_, the fecundity of fish\nis a proverb in natural history; but I suppose it is rather the infinite\nsuccession of waves on the expanded surface of Ocean that makes his\ndaughters so numerous in the Theogony (362)--\n\n  \"Thrice ten hundred they are counted delicate-ancled Ocean maids.\"\n\n\n Note 14 (p. 187).\n       \". . . the giant trace\n Of Titan times hath vanished.\"\n\nHere we have distinctly indicated that contrast between the _old_ and\nthe _new_ gods, which \u00c6schylus makes so prominent, not only in this\nplay, but also in the Furies. The conclusion has been drawn by various\nscholars that \u00c6schylus was secretly unfavourable to the recognised\ndynasty of Jove, and that his real allegiance was to these elder gods.\nBut the inference is hasty and unauthorised. His taste for the sublime\nled him into these primeval ages, as it also did Milton: that is all we\ncan say.\n\n{391}\n\n\n Note 15 (p. 188).\n      \". . . the new-forged counsels\n That shall hurl him from his throne.\"\n\nThe new-forged counsels were of Jove's own devising--viz., that he\nshould marry Thetis; of which marriage, if it should take place, the\nson was destined to usurp his father's throne.--SCHOLIAST.\n\n\n Note 16 (p. 188).\n \"O, 'tis hard, most hard to reach\n The heart of Jove!\"\n\nInexorability is a grand characteristic of the gods.\n\n  \"Desine fata deum flecti sperare precando.\"--VIRG., \u00c6N. VI.\n\nAnd so Homer makes Nestor say of Agamemnon, vainly hoping to appease\nthe wrath of Pallas Athena, by hecatombs--\n\n  \"Witless in his heart he knew not what dire sufferings he must bear,\n  For not lightly from their purposed counsel swerve the eternal gods.\"\n                                                     ODYS. III. 147.\n\nAnd of Jove, in particular, Hera says to Themis, in the council of the\ngods--\n\n                                              \"Well thou knowest\n  How the Olympian's heart is haughty, and his temper how severe.\"\n                                               ILIAD XV. 94.\n\n\n Note 17 (p. 188).\n \"My mother Themis, not once but oft, and Earth\n (One shape of various names).\"\n\n\u00c6schylus does not and could not confound these two distinct persons, as\nPOT. will have it.--See Eumenides, 2. SCHOE. has stated the whole\ncase very clearly. POT. remarks with great justice, that a\nmultiplicity of names \"is a mark of dignity;\" it by no means follows,\nhowever, that _Themis_, in this passage, is one of those many names\nwhich Earth receives. In illustration we may quote a passage from the\n_Kurma Ouran_ (Kennedy's Researches on Hindoo Mythology; London, 1831;\np. 208)--\"That,\" says Vishnu, pointing to Siva, \"is the great god of\ngods, shining in his own refulgence, eternal, devoid of thought, who\nproduced thee (Brahma), and gave to thee the Vedas, and who likewise\noriginated me, and _gave me various names._\" Southey, in the roll of\ncelestial _dramatis person\u00e6_ prefixed to the Curse of Kehama, says\n\"that Siva boasts as many as _one thousand and eight names_.\"\n\n\n Note 18 (p 189).\n \"Suspicion's a disease that cleaves to tyrants,\n And they who love most are the first suspected.\"\n\n\"_Nam regibus boni quam mali suspectiores sunt, semperque his aliena\nvirtus formidolosa est._\"--Sall. Cat. VII. \"In princes fear is stronger\nthan love; therefore it is often more difficult for them to tear\nthemselves from persons whom they hate than to cast off persons whom\nthey love.\"--RICHTER (Titan).\n\n\n Note 19 (p. 189).\n \"I only of the gods\n Thwarted his will.\"\n\nThis is one of the passages which has suggested to many minds a\ncomparison between the mythical tortures of the Caucasus and the real\nagonies of Calvary. The analogy is just so far; only the Greek\nimagination never could look on Prometheus as suffering altogether\nwithout just cause; he suffered for his own sins. This TOEPEL. p. 71,\nhas well expressed thus--\"_Prometheus deos laesit ut homines bearet:\nChristus homines beavit ut suae, Deique patris obsecundaret voluntati._\"\n\n{392}\n\n\n Note 20 (p. 189).\n \". . . in cunning torment stretched.\"\n\n\u1f00\u03bd\u03b7\u03bb\u03b5\u1ff6\u03c2 \u1f10\u1fe4\u1fe5\u03cd\u03b8\u03bc\u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9--\"_so bin ich zugerichtet_.\"--PASSOW. A sort of\nstudious malignity is here indicated. So we say allegorically to _trim_\none handsomely, to _dress_ him, when we mean to _punish_. The frequent\nuse of this verb \u03c1\u03c5\u03b8\u03bc\u03af\u03b6\u03c9 is characteristic of the Greeks, than whom no\npeople, as has been frequently remarked, seem to have possessed a nicer\nsense of the beauty of measure and the propriety of limitation in their\npoetry and works of art. So Sophocles, Antig. 318, has \u03c1\u03c5\u03b8\u03bc\u03af\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03bb\u03cd\u03c0\u03b7\u03bd.\n\n\n Note 21 (p. 190).\n \"Blind hopes of good I planted\n In their dark breasts.\"\n\nA striking phrase, meaning, however, nothing more, I imagine,\naccording to the use of the Greek writers (and also of the Latins with\n_caecus_) than _dim_, _indistinct_; neither, indeed, is the phrase\nforeign to our colloquial English idiom--\"The swearing to a _blind_\netcetera they (the Puritans) looked upon as intolerable.\"--Calamy's Life\nof Baxter. In the well-known story of Pandora, Hesiod relates that, when\nthe lid of the fatal box was opened, innumerable plagues flew out, only\nHOPE remained within.--_Works and Days_, 84.\n\n\n Note 22 (p. 190).\n \"And flame-faced fire is now enjoyed by mortals?\"\n\nLieutenant-Colonel Collins, in his account of New South Wales (London,\n1804), mentions that the wild natives produced fire with much\ndifficulty, and preserved it with the greatest care. The original\ninhabitants of New Holland, and the wild African bushmen described by\nMoffat, the missionary, are among the lowest specimens of human nature\nwith which we are acquainted. As for \u00c6schylus, it is evident he follows\nin this whole piece the notion of primitive humanity given in his\nintroductory chapters by Diodorus, and generally received amongst the\nancients, viz., that the fathers of our race were the most weak and\nhelpless creatures imaginable, like the famous Egyptian frogs, as it\nwere, only half developed from the primeval slime.\n\n\n Note 23 (p. 191).\n\n_Enter_ OCEAN. \"This sea god enters,\" says Brunoy, quoted by POT.,\non \"I know not what winged animal--_bizarrerie inexplicable._\" Very\ninexplicable certainly; and yet, as the tragedian expressly calls the\nanimal a _bird_, I do not see why so many translators, both English and\nGerman, should insist on making it a _steed_. The bird certainly was a\nlittle anomalous, having, as we learn below, four feet (\u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03bb\u1f74\u03c2\n\u1f40\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd\u03cc\u03c2, v. 395--a _four-footed bira_); but it was a bird for all that,\nand the air was its element. If the creature must have a name, we must\neven call it a griffin, or a hippogriff, notwithstanding Welcker's\nremarks (_Tril._ p. 26). Those who wish to see its physiognomy more\nminutely described may consult Aeliean. hist, animal. IV. 27, in an apt\npassage quoted from JACOBS by BOTH. There is an ambiguity in the\npassage which I have translated--\n\n  \"Thought instinctive reined the creature,\"\n\nsome applying \u03b3\u03bd\u03ce\u03bc\u1fc3 not to the animal, but to the will of the rider. So\nPROW.--\n\n                 \"Following still\n  Each impulse of my guiding will.\"\n\nBut for the poetical propriety of my translation I can plead the\nauthority of SOUTHEY--\n\n{393}\n\n  \"The ship of Heaven instinct with thought displayed\n  Its living sail, and glides along the sky.\"\n                            Curse of Kehama, VII. 1.\n\nand of MILTON--\n\n  \"The chariot of paternal Deity\n  Instinct with spirit.\"--VI. 750.\n\nand what is much more conclusive in the present instance, that of\nHomer, whose \u03c4\u03b9\u03c4\u03c5\u03c3\u03ba\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c6\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u1f76 \u03bd\u1fc6\u03b5\u03c2 (Odyssey VIII. 556), or\nself-piloted ships of the Ph\u0153nicians, belong clearly to the same\nmythical family as the self-reined griffin of old Ocean.\n\n\n Note 24 (p. 191).\n \"From my distant caves cerulean.\"\n\n_i.e._, in the far West, extreme Atlantic, or \"ends of the earth,\"\naccording to the Homeric phrase.\n\n  \"To the ends I make my journey of the many-nurturing Earth,\n  There where Ocean, sire of gods, and ancient mother Tethys dwells,\n  They who nursed me in their palace, and my infant strength sustained,\"\n\nsays _Hera_ in the Iliad (XIV. 200).\n\n\n Note 25 (p. 192).\n \"Enough my brother Atlas' miseries grieve me.\"\n\nThe reader will see by referring to the old editions and to POT. that\nthe following description of the miseries of Atlas and Typhon is, in the\nMS., given to Ocean; and, it must be confessed, there seems a peculiar\ndramatic propriety in making the old sea god hold up the fate of the\nCilician Blaster as a warning to the son of Iapetus, whom he saw\nembarked in a similar career of hopeless rebellion against the\nThunderer. But philological considerations, well stated by SCHOE.,\nhave weighed with that editor, as with his predecessors BLOM. and\nWELL., whose authority and arguments I am for the present willing to\nfollow, though not without some lingering doubts. The alteration of the\ntext originally proceeded from Elmsley, and the original order of the\ndialogue is stoutly defended by TOEPEL. in his notes.\n\n\n Note 26 (p. 192)\n \"The pillars of Heaven and Earth upon his shoulders.\"\n\nIf the reader is a curious person, he will ask how Atlas when standing\non the Earth--in the extreme west of the Earth--could bear the pillars\nof _Heaven_ and _Earth?_ and the question will be a very proper one;\nfor the fact is that, as Hesiod distinctly states the case, he bore the\npillars of _Heaven only_ (Theog. 517). This is, indeed, the only\npossible idea that could be admitted into a mythology which proceeded on\nthe old principle that the Earth was a flat solid platform in the centre\nof the Universe, round which the celestial pole (\u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2) wheeled.\nThe phrase \"_pillars of Heaven and Earth_\" is, therefore, to a certain\nextent an improper one; for the Earth, being the stable base of all\nthings, required no pillars to support it. In one sense it is true that\nthe pillars of Atlas are the pillars of Heaven and Earth, viz., in so\nfar as they have Heaven at one end and Earth at the other, which is what\nHomer means when he says (Odyssey I. 54), that these pillars \"\u03b3\u1fb6\u03b9\u03ac\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5\n\u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f40\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u1f78\u03bd \u1f00\u03bc\u03c6\u1f76\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd.\" And that this is the idea of \u00c6schylus, also,\nis plain, both from the present passage, and from the Epode of the next\nfollowing Chorus, where, unless we force in one conjecture of Sch\u00fctz,\nor another of Hermann into the text, there is no mention of anything but\nthe _celestial pole_. In all this I but express in my own words, {394}\nand with a very decided conviction, the substance of the admirable note\nin SCHOE. to v. 426, WELL.\n\n\n Note 27 (p. 192).\n \". . . Typhon.\"\n\nThe idea of Typhon is that of a strong windy power, \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03cc\u03bd \u1f51\u03b2\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03ae\u03bd\n\u03c4 \u1f04\u03bd\u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd, according to the express statement of Hesiod (Theog. 307).\nThe Greek word _Typhon_, with which our _typhus fever_ is identical,\nexpresses the state of being _swollen_ or _blown up_; with this, the\nother idea of _heat_, which belongs also to Typhon (Sallust, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd,\nc. 4), is naturally connected. According to the elementary or physical\nsystem of mythology, therefore, Typhon is neither more nor less than a\n_simoom_ or _hot wind_.\n\n\n Note 28 (p. 193).\n \"Knowest thou not this, Prometheus, that mild words\n Are medicines of fierce wrath?\"\n\nThe reader may like to see Cicero's version of these four lines--\n\n  \"_Oceanus_. Atqui Prometheu te hoc, tenere existimo\n    Mederi posse rationem iracundi\u00e6.\"\n  \"_Prom_. Si quidem qui tempestivam medicinam admovens\n    Non ad gravescens vulnus illidat manus.\"\n                                    TUSC. Q., III. 31.\n\n\n Note 29 (p. 194).\n \". . . holy Asia weep\n For thee, Prometheus.\"\n\nHere, and in the epithet of the rivers in the Epode (compare Homer's\nOdyssey X. 351, \u1f31\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd, and _N\u00e4gelsbach_, Homer, Theologie, p.\n85), the original word is \u1f01\u03b3\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2, a term to be particularly noted, both\nin the heathen writers and in the Old Testament, as denoting that\nreligious purity in connection with external objects and outward\nceremonies which the Christian sentiment confines exclusively to the\nmoral state of the soul. I have thought it important, in all cases, to\nretain the Greek phrase, and not by modernizing to dilute it. The\nreligious sentiment in connection with external nature is what the\nmoderns generally do not understand, and least of all the English, whose\npiety does not readily exhibit itself beyond the precincts of the church\nporch. The Germans, in this regard, have a much more profound sympathy\nwith the Greek mind.\n\n\n Note 30 (p. 194).\n \". . . Araby's wandering warriors weep\n For thee, Prometheus.\"\n\nArabia certainly comes in, to a modern ear, not a little strangely here,\nbetween the Sea of Azof and the Caucasus; but the Greeks, we must\nremember, were a people whose notions of _barbarian_ geography (as they\nwould call it) were anything but distinct; and, in this play, the poet\nseems wisely to court vagueness in these matters rather than to study\naccuracy.\n\n\n Note 31 (p 195).\n \"For, soothly, having eyes to see, they saw not.\"\n\nWith regard to the origin of the human race there are two principal\nopinions, which have in all times prevailed. One is, that man was\noriginally created perfect, or in a state of dignity far transcending\nwhat he now exhibits; that the state in which the earliest historical\nrecords present him is a state of declension and aberration from the\nprimeval source; and that the {395} whole progress of what is called\ncivilization is only a series of attempts, for the most part\nsufficiently clumsy, and always painful, whereby we endeavour to\nreinstate ourselves in our lost position. This philosophy of\nhistory--for so it may most fitly be called--is that which has always\nbeen received in the general Christian world; and, indeed, it seems to\nflow necessarily from the reception of the Mosaic records, not merely as\nauthentic Hebrew documents, but as veritable cosmogony and primeval\nhistory--as containing a historical exposition of the creation of the\nworld, and the early history of man. The other doctrine is, that man was\noriginally created in a condition extremely feeble and imperfect; very\nlittle removed from vegetable dulness and brutish stupidity; and that he\ngradually raised himself by slow steps to the exercise of the higher\nmoral and intellectual faculties, by virtue of which he claims\nsuccessful mastery over the brute, and affinity with the angel. This\ndoctrine was very common, I think I may safely say the current and\ngenerally received doctrine, among the educated Greeks and Romans;\nthough the poets certainly did not omit, as they so often do, to\ncontradict themselves by their famous tradition of a golden age, which\nit was their delight to trick out and embellish. In modern times, this\ntheory of _progressive development_, as it may be called, has, as might\nhave been expected, found little favour, except with philosophers of the\nFrench school; and those who have broached it in this country latterly\nhave met with a most hot reception from scientific men, principally, we\nmay presume, from the general conviction that such ideas go directly to\nundermine the authority of the Mosaic record. It has been thought, also,\nthat there is something debasing and contrary to the dignity of human\nnature in the supposition that the great-grandfather of the primeval\nfather of our race may have been a monkey, or not far removed from that\nspecies; but, however this be, with regard to \u00c6SCHYLUS, it is plain\nhe did not find it inconsistent with the loftiest views of human duty\nand destiny to adopt the then commonly received theory of a gradual\ndevelopment; and, in illustration, I cannot do better than translate a\nfew sentences from DIODORUS, where the same doctrine is stated in\nprose: \"Men, as originally generated, lived in a confused and brutish\ncondition, preserving existence by feeding on herbs and fruits that grew\nspontaneously. * * * Their speech was quite indistinct and confused, but\nby degrees they invented articulate speech. * * * They lived without any\nof the comforts and conveniences of life, without clothing, without\nhabitations, _without fire_ (Prometheus!), and without cooked victuals;\nand not knowing to lay up stores for future need, great numbers of them\ndied during the winter from the effects of cold and starvation. By which\nsad experience taught, they learned to lodge themselves in caves, and\nlaid up stores there. By-and-by, they discovered fire and other things\npertaining to a comfortable existence. The arts were then invented, and\nman became in every respect such as a highly-gifted animal might well\nbe, having hands and speech, and a devising mind ever present to work\nout his purposes.\" Thus far the Sicilian (I. 8); and the intelligent\nreader need not be informed that, to a certain extent, many obvious and\npatent facts seemed to give a high probability to his doctrine.\n\"Dwellers in caves,\" for instance, or \"troglodytes,\" were well known to\nthe ancients, and the modern reader will find a historical account of\nthem in STRABO, and other obvious places. The HORITES (Gen. xiv. 6)\nwere so called from the Hebrew word HOR, a cave--(see Gesenius and\nJahn, I. 2-26). But it is needless to accumulate learned references in a\nmatter patent to the most modern observation.--MOFFAT's \"African\nMissions\" will supply instances of human beings in a state as degraded\nas anything here described by the poet; and with {396} regard to the\naboriginal Australians, I have preserved in my notes the following\npassage from COLLINS: \"The Australians dwell in miserable huts of\nbark, all huddled together promiscuously (\u1f14\u03c6\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03b9\u03ba\u1fc6 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1!) amid much\nsmoke and dirt. _Some also live in caves._\" I do by no means assert,\nhowever, that these creatures are remnants of primeval humanity,\naccording to the development theory; I only say they afford that theory\na historic analogy; while, on the other hand, they are equally\nconsistent with the commonly received Christian doctrine, as man is a\ncreature who degenerates from excellence much more readily in all\ncircumstances than he attains to it. These Australians and Africans may\nbe mere imbecile stragglers who have been dropt from the great army of\nhumanity in its march.\n\n\n Note 32 (p. 195).\n                        \"Numbers, too,\n I taught them (a most choice device).\"\n\n\"The Pythagorean tenets of \u00c6schylus here display themselves. It was one\nof the doctrines attributed to this mysterious sect that they professed\nto find in numbers, and their combinations, the primordial types of\neverything cognisable by the mind, whether of a physical or moral\nnature. They even spoke of the soul as a number.\"--PROW. But, apart\nfrom all Pythagorean notions, we may safely say--from observation of\ntravellers indeed certainly affirm--that there is nothing in which the\ncivilized man so remarkably distinguishes himself from the savage, as in\nthe power to grasp and handle relations of number. The special reference\nto Pythagoras in this passage is, I perceive, decidedly rejected by\nSCHOE.; BERGK. and HAUPT., according to his statement, admitting\nit. Of course, such a reference in the mind of the poet can never be\n_proved_; only it does no harm to suppose it.\n\n\n Note 33 (p. 196).\n \". . . the fire-faced signs.\"\n\n(\u03c6\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03c9\u03c0\u1f70 \u03c3\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1). PROWETT refers this to _lightning_; but surely, in\nthe present connection, the obvious reference is to the sacrificial\nflame, from which, as from most parts of the sacrificial ceremony, omens\nwere wont to be taken. When the flame burned bright it was a good omen;\nwhen with a smoky and troublous flame, the omen was bad. See a\nwell-known description of this in Sophocles' Antigone, from the mouth of\nthe blind old diviner Tiresias, when he first enters the stage, v. 1005;\nand another curious passage in Euripides' Ph\u0153niss. 1261.\n\n\n Note 34 (p. 196).\n \"And who is lord of strong Necessity?\"\n\nNecessity (\u1f08\u03bd\u03ac\u03b3\u03ba\u03b7), a favourite power to which reference is made\nby the Greek dramatists, is merely an impersonation of the fact patent\nto all, that the world is governed by a system of strict and inexorable\nlaw, from the operation of which no man can escape. That the gods\nthemselves are subject to this \u1f08\u03bd\u03ac\u03b3\u03ba\u03b7. is a method of expression\nnot seldom used by Heathen writers; but that they had any distinct idea,\nor fixed theological notion of NECESSITY or FATE, as a power\nseparate from and superior to the gods I see no reason to believe.--See\nmy observations on the Homeric \u03bc\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b1 in _Clas. Mus._, No. XXVI.,\np. 437. And in the same way that Homer talks of the _fate from the\ngods_, so the tragedians talk of _necessity from or imposed by the\ngods_--\u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f10\u03ba \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03ac\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b8\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u1f40\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c6\u03ad\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd. With regard to\n\u00c6schylus, certainly one must beware of drawing any hasty inference with\nregard to his theological creed from this insulated passage. For here\nthe poet adopts the notion of the strict subjection of Jove to an\nexternal FATE, {397} principally, one may suppose, from dramatic\npropriety; it suits the person and the occasion. Otherwise, the\n\u00c6schylean theology is very favourable to the absolute supremacy of\nJove; and, accordingly, in the Eumenides, those very Furies, who are\nhere called his superiors, though they dispute with Apollo, are careful\nnot to be provoked into a single expression which shall seem to throw a\ndoubt on the infallibility of \"the Father.\" For the rest, the Fates and\nFuries, both here and in the Eumenides, are aptly coupled, and, in\nsignification, indeed, are identical; because a man's _fate_ in this\nworld can never be separated from his _conduct_, nor his conduct from\nhis _conscience_, of which the Furies are the impersonation.\n\n\n Note 35 (p. 196).\n \"No more than others Jove can 'scape his doom.\"\n\nThe idea that the Supreme Ruler of the Universe can ever be dethroned\nis foreign to every closely reasoned system of monotheism; but in\npolytheistic systems it is not unnatural (for gods who had a beginning\nmay have an end); and in the Hindoo theology receives an especial\nprominence. Southey accordingly makes Indra, the Hindoo Jove, say--\n\n       \"A stronger hand\n  May wrest my sceptre, and unparadise\n  The Swerga.\"--Curse of Kehama, VII.\n\nWe must bear in mind, however, that it is not \u00c6schylus in the present\npassage, but Prometheus who says this.\n\n\n Note 36 (p. 197)\n \"Plant his high will against my weak opinion!\"\n\nThe original of these words, \"\u03bc\u03b7\u03b4\u03ac\u03bc \u03b8(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03c4\u1fbd \u03b5\u03bc\u1f80 \u03b3\u03bd\u03ce\u03bc\u1fb6 \u03ba\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03c4\u03af\u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\n\u0396\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2,\" has been otherwise translated \"_Minime Jupiter indat animo meo\nvim rebellem;_\" but, apart altogether from theological considerations,\nI entirely agree with SCHOE. that this rendering puts a force upon\nthe word \u03ba\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, which is by no means called for, and which it will not\neasily bear.\n\n\n Note 37 (p. 197)\n \"Won by rich gifts didst lead.\"\n\nObserve here the primitive practice according to which the bridegroom\npurchased his wife, by rich presents made to the father. In Iliad IX.\n288, Agamemnon promises, as a particular favour, to give his daughter\nin marriage to Achilles \u1f00\u03bd\u03ac\u03b5\u03b4\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, that is, without any consideration\nin the shape of a marriage gift.\n\n\n Note 38 (p. 197).\n\n_Enter_ IO. Io is one of those mysterious characters on the\nborderland between history and fable, concerning which it is difficult\nto say whether they are to be looked on as personal realities, or as\nimpersonated ideas. According to the historical view of ancient legends,\nIo is the daughter of Inachus, a primeval king of Argos; and, from this\nfact as a root, the extravagant legends about her, sprouting from the\never active inoculation of human fancy, branched out. Interpreted by the\nprinciples of early theological allegory, however, she is, according to\nthe witness of Suidas, the MOON, and her wanderings the revolutions of\nthat satellite. In either view, the immense extent of these wanderings\nis well explained by mythological writers (1) from the influence of\nArgive colonies at Byzantium and elsewhere; and (2) from the vain desire\nof the Greeks to connect their {398} horned virgin Io, with the horned\nISIS of the Egyptians. It need scarcely be remarked that, if Io means\nthe moon, her horns are as naturally explained as her wanderings. But,\nin reading \u00c6schylus, all these considerations are most wisely left out\nof view, the Athenians, no doubt, who introduced this play, believing in\nthe historical reality of the Inachian maid, as firmly as we believe in\nthat of Adam or Methuselah. As little can I agree with BOTH. that we\nare called upon to rationalize away the reality of the persecuting\ninsect, whether under the name of \u1fbd(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 or \u03bc\u03cd\u03c9\u03c8. In popular legends\nthe sublime is ever apt to be associated with circumstances that either\nare, or, to the cultivated imagination, necessarily appear to be\nridiculous.\n\n\n Note 39 (p. 198).\n \". . . save me, O Earth!\"\n\nI have here given the received traditionary rendering of \u0391\u03bb\u03b5\u1fe6 \u1f66 \u03b4\u1fb6;\nbut I must confess the appeal to Earth here in this passage always\nappeared to me something unexpected; and it is, accordingly, with\npleasure that I submit the following observations of SCHOE. to the\nconsideration of the scholar--\"\u0394\u1fb6 is generally looked on as a\ndialectic variation of \u03b3\u1fb6; and, in conformity with this opinion,\nTheocritus has used the accusation \u0394\u1fb6\u03bd. I consider this erroneous,\nand am of opinion that in \u0394\u03b7\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1 we are rather to understand \u0394\u03b5\u03b1\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\nthan \u0393\u03b7\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1; and \u03b4\u1fb6 is to be taken only as an interjection. This is\nnot the place to discuss this matter fully; but, in the meantime, I\nmay mention that AHRENS _de dialecta Doric\u00e2_, p. 80, has refuted the\ntraditionary notion with regard to \u03b4\u1fb6.\n\n\n Note 40 (p. 198).\n\n_Chorus_. With WELL., and SCHOE., and the MSS., I give this verse to\nthe Chorus, though certainly it is not to be denied that the\ncontinuation of the lyrical metre of the Strophe pleads strongly in\nfavour of giving it to Io. It is also certain that, for the sake of\nsymmetry, the last line of the Antistrophe must also be given to the\nChorus, as SCHOE. has done.\n\n\n Note 41 (p. 199).\n \". . . the sisters of thy father, Io.\"\n\nInachus, the Argive river, was, like all other rivers, the son of Ocean,\nand, of course, the brother of the Ocean-maids, the Chorus of the\npresent play. Afterwards, according to the historical method of\nconception, characteristic of the early legends, the elementary god\nbecame a human person--the river was metamorphosed into a king.\n\n\n Note 42 (p. 200).\n \". . . Lerne's bosomed mead.\"\n\nWe most commonly read of the _water_ or _fountain_ of Lerne; this\nimplies a meadow--and this, again, implies high overhanging grounds, or\ncliffs, of which mention is made in the twenty-third line below. In that\nplace, however, the reading \u1f04\u03ba\u03c1\u03b7\u03bd is not at all certain; and, were\nI editing the text, I should have no objection to follow PAL. in\nreading \u039b\u03ad\u03c1\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03c1\u03ae\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd, with Canter. In fixing this point, something\nwill depend upon the actual landscape.\n\n\n Note 43 (p. 201).\n \"First to the east.\"\n\nHere begins the narration of the mythical wanderings of Io--a strange\nmatter, and of a piece with the whole fable, which, however, with all\nits perplexities, \u00c6schylus, no doubt, and his audience, following the\nold minstrels, took very lightly. In such matters, the less curious a\nman is, {399} the greater chance is there of his not going far wrong;\nand to be superficial is safer than to be profound. The following causes\nmay be stated as presumptive grounds why we ought not to be surprised at\nany startling inaccuracy in geographical detail in legends of this\nkind:--(1) The Greeks, as stated above, even in their most scientific\ndays, had the vaguest possible ideas of the geography of the extreme\ncircumference of the habitable globe and the parts nearest to it which\nare spoken of in the passage. (2) The geographical ideas of \u00c6schylus\nmust be assumed as more kindred to those of Homer than of the best\ninformed later Greeks. (3) Even supposing \u00c6schylus to have had the most\naccurate geographical ideas, he had no reasons in handling a Titanic\nmyth to make his geographical scenery particularly tangible; on the\ncontrary, as a skilful artist, the more misty and indefinite he could\nkeep it the better. (4) He may have taken the wanderings of Io, as\nWelcker still suggests (_Trilog._ 137), literally from the old Epic poem\n\"Aigimius,\" or some other traditionary lay as old as Homer, leaving to\nhimself no more discretion in the matter, and caring as little to do so\nas Shakespere did about the geographical localities in Macbeth, which he\nborrowed from Hollinshed. For all these reasons I am of opinion that any\nattempt to explain the geographical difficulties of the following\nwanderings would be labour lost to myself no less than to the reader;\nand shall, therefore, content myself with noting _seriatim_ the\ndifferent points of the progress, and explaining, for the sake of the\ngeneral reader, what is or is not known in the learned world about the\nmatter:--\n\n(1) The starting-point is not from Mount Caucasus, according to the\ncommon representation, but from some indefinite point in the\nNORTHERN PARTS OF EUROPE. So the Scholiast on v. 1, arguing\nfrom the present passage, clearly concludes; and with him agree\nHER. and SCHOE.; Welcker whimsically, I think, maintaining a\ncontrary opinion.\n\n(2) The SCYTHIAN NOMADS, _vid._ note on v. 2, _supra._; their\nparticular customs alluded to here are well known, presenting a\nfamiliar ancient analogy to the gipsy life of the present day. The\nreader of Horace will recall the lines--\n\n                \"Campestres melius Scythae\n  Quorum plaustra vagas rite trahunt domos.\"\n                           --Ode III. 24-9.\n\nand the same poet (III. 4-35) mentions the \"quiver-bearing Geloni\";\nfor the bow is the most convenient weapon to all wandering and\nsemi-civilized warriors.\n\n(3) The CHALYBS, or CHALDAEI, are properly a people in Pontus,\nat the north-east corner of Asia Minor; but \u00c6schylus, in his primeval\nTitanic geography, takes the liberty of planting them to the north of\nthe Euxine.\n\n(4) The river HUBRISTES. The Araxes, says the Scholiast; the\nTANAIS, say others; or the CUBAN (Dr. Schmitz in Smith's Dict.).\nThe word means _boisterous_ or _outrageous_, and recalls the Virgilian\n\"_pontem indignatus Araxes._\"\n\n(5) The CAUCASUS, as in modern geography.\n\n(6) The AMAZONS; placed here in the country about Colchis to the\nnorthward of their final settlement in Themiscyre, on the Thermodon,\nin Pontus, east of the Halys.\n\n(7) SALMYDESSUS, on the Euxine, _west_ of the Symplegades and the\nThracian Bosphorus; of course a violent jump in the geography.\n\n{400}\n\n(8) The CIMMERIAN BOSPHORUS, between the Euxine and the Sea of\nAzof. Puzzling enough that this should come in here, and no\nmention be made of the Thracian Bosphorus in the whole flight!\nThe word _Bosporus_ means in Greek the _passage of the Cow_.\n\n(9) The ASIAN CONTINENT; from the beginning a strange wheel! For\nthe rest see below.\n\n\n Note 44 (p. 203).\n \"When generations ten have passed, the third.\"\n\nThis mythical genealogy is thus given by SCH\u00dcTZ from Apollodorus. 1.\nEpaphus; 2. Libya; 3. Belus (see Suppliants, p. 228, above); 4. Danaus;\n5. Hypermnestra; 6. Abas; 7. Proetus; 8. Acrisias; 9. Danae; 10.\nPerseus; 11. Electryon; 12. Alcmena; 13. Heracles.\n\n\n Note 45 (p. 203).\n \"When thou hast crossed the narrow stream that parts.\"\n\nI now proceed with the mythical wanderings of the \"ox-horned maid,\"\nnaming the different points, and continuing the numbers, from the\nformer Note--\n\n(10) The SOUNDING OCEAN.--Before these words, something seems to\nhave dropt out of the text; what the \"sounding sea\" (\u03c0\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\n\u03c6\u03bb(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c3\u03b2\u03bf\u03c2) is, no man can say; but, as a southward direction is\nclearly indicated in what follows, we may suppose the CASPIAN,\nwith HER.; or the PERSIAN GULF, with SCHOE.\n\n(11) The GORGONIAN PLAINS.--\"The Gorgons are conceived by\nHesiod to live in the Western Ocean, in the neighbourhood of\nNight, and the Hesperides; but later traditions place them in\nLibya.\"--Dr. SCHMITZ, in Smith's Dict.: but SCHOE., in his note,\nquotes a scholiast to Pindar, _Pyth._ X. 72, which places them near\nthe Red Sea, and in Ethiopia. This latter habitation, of course,\nagrees best with the present passage of \u00c6schylus.\n\nWith regard to CISTHENE, the same writer (SCHOE.) has an\ningenious conjecture, that it may be a mistake of the old copyists,\nfor the CISSIANS, a Persian people, mentioned in the opening chorus\nto the play of the Persians.\n\n(12) The country of the GRIFFINS, the ARIMASPI, and the river\nPLUTO. The Griffins and the Arimaspi are well known from Herodotus\nand Strabo, which latter, we have seen above (Note 1), places them to\nthe north of the Euxine Sea, as a sub-division of the Scythians.\n\u00c6schylus, however, either meant to confound all geographical\ndistinctions, or followed a different tradition, which placed the\nArimaspi in the south, as to which see SCHOE. \"The river PLUTO\nis easily explained, from the accounts of golden-sanded rivers in the\nEast which had reached Greece.\"--SCHOE.\n\n(13) The river Aethiops seems altogether fabulous.\n\n(14) The \"Bybline Heights,\" meaning the \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c0\u03b1 (Herod. II. 17), or\nplace where the Nile falls from the mountains.--LIN. _in voce_\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03bc\u03cc\u03c2, which is translated _pass_. No such place as BYBLUS is\nmentioned here by the geographers, in want of which POT. has\nallowed himself to be led, by the Scholiast, into rather a curious\nerror. The old annotator, having nothing geographical to say {401}\nabout this _Byblus_, thought he might try what etymology could do;\nso he tells us that the Bybline Mountains were so called from the\n_Byblos_ or _Papyrus_ that grew on them. This Potter took up and\ngave--\n\n  \"Where from the _mountains with papyrus crowned_\n  The venerable Nile impetuous pours,\"\n\noverlooking the fact that the papyrus is a sedge, and grows in flat,\nmoist places.\n\n\n Note 46 (p. 204).\n     \". . . the sacred Nile\n Pours his salubrious flood.\"\n\n\u1f14\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c1\u03ad\u03bf\u03c2, literally, _good for drinking_. The medicinal qualities of\nthe _Nile_ were famous in ancient times. In the Suppliants, v. 556, our\npoet calls the Nile water, \u03bd\u03cc\u03c3\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f04\u03b8\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd, _not to be reached by\ndiseases;_ and in v. 835, _the nurturing river that makes the blood\nflow more buoyantly_. On this subject, the celebrated Venetian\nphysician, Prosper Alpin, in his _Rerum \u00c6gyptiarum_, Lib. IV. (Lugd.\nBat. 1735) writes as follows: \"Nili aqua merito omnibus aliis pr\u00e6fertur\nquod ipsa alvum subducat, menses pellat ut propterea raro mensium\nsuppressio in \u00c6gypti mulieribus reperiatur. Potui suavis est, et\ndulcis; sitim promptissime extinguit; frigida tuto bibitur, concoctionem\njuvat, ac distributioni auxilio est, minime hypochondriis gravis corpus\nfirmum et coloratum reddit,\" etc.--Lib. I. c. 3. If the water of the\nNile really be not only pleasant to drink, but, strictly speaking, of\nmedicinal virtue, it has a companion in the Ness, at Inverness, the\nwaters of which are said to possess such a drastic power, that they\ncannot be drunk with safety by strangers.\n\n\n Note 47 (p. 204).\n \". . . thence with mazy course\n Tossed hither.\"\n\nI quite agree with SCHOE. that, in the word \u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03bc\u03c0\u03bb\u03ac\u03b3\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, in this\npassage, we must understand \u03c0\u03ac\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd to mean _to and fro_, not\n_backwards_. With a backward or reverted course from the Adriatic, Io\ncould never have been brought northward to Scythia. The maziness of Io's\ncourse arises naturally from the fitful attacks of the persecuting\ninsect of which she was the victim. A direct course is followed by sane\nreason, a zigzag course by insane impulse.\n\n\n Note 48 (p. 204).\n \". . . Epaphus, whose name shall tell\n The wonder of his birth.\"\n\nAs Io was identified with Isis, so Epaphus seems merely a Greek term for\nthe famous bull-god Apis.--(Herod. III. 27, and M\u00fcller's Prolegom.\nmyth.) The etymology, like many others given by the ancients, is\nridiculous enough; \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03c6\u03ae, _touch_. This derivation is often alluded to\nin the next play, _The Suppliants_. With regard to the idea of a virgin\nmother so prominent in this legend of Io, PROW. has remarked that it\noccurs in the Hindoo and in the Mexican mythology; but nothing can be\nmore puerile than the attempt which he mentions as made by FABER to\nconnect this idea with the \"promise respecting the seed of the woman\nmade to man at the fall.\" Sound philosophy will never seek a distant\nreason for a phenomenon, when a near one is ready. When an object of\nworship or admiration is once acknowledged as superhuman, it is the most\nnatural thing in the world for the imagination to supply a superhuman\nbirth. A miraculous life flows most fitly from a miraculous generation.\nThe mother of the great type of Roman {402} warriors is a vestal, and\nhis father is the god of war. Romans and Greeks will wisely be left to\nsettle such matters for themselves, without the aid of \"patriarchal\ntraditions\" or \"the prophecy of Isaiah.\" The ancient Hellenes were not\nso barren, either of fancy or feeling, as that they required to borrow\nmatters of this kind from the Hebrews. On the idea of \"generation by a\ngod\" generally, see the admirable note in GROTE's History of Greece,\nP. I. c. 16 (Vol. I. p. 471).\n\n\n Note 49 (p. 207).\n \". . . they are wise who worship Adrast\u00e9a.\"\n\n\"A surname of Nemesis, derived by some writers from Adrastus, who is\nsaid to have built the first sanctuary of Nemesis on the river Asopus\n(Strabo XIII. p. 588), and by others from the verb \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03c1\u03ac\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd,\naccording to which it would signify the goddess whom none could\nescape.\"--Dr. SCHMITZ. On this subject, STAN. has a long note,\nwhere the student will find various illustrative references.\n\n\n Note 50 (p. 209).\n \"For wilful strength that hath no wisdom in it\n Is less than nothing.\"\n\nThe word in the original, \u1f00\u03c5\u03b8\u03b1\u03b4\u03b9\u03ac, literally \"self-pleasing,\" expresses\na state of mind which the Greeks, with no shallow ethical discernment,\nwere accustomed to denounce as the great source of all those sins whose\nconsequences are the most fearful to the individual and to society. St.\nPaul, in his epistle to Titus (i. 7), uses the same word emphatically\nto express what a Christian bishop should _not_ be (\u1f00\u03c5\u03b8\u1f70\u03b4\u03b7,\nself-willed). The same word is used by the blind old soothsayer\nTiresias in the ANTIGONE, when preaching repentance to the passionate\nand self-willed tyrant of Thebes, \u1f00\u03c5\u03b8\u03b1\u03b4\u03b9\u03ac \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c3\u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03cc\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4 \u1f40\u03c6\u03bb\u03b9\u03c3\u03ba\u03ac\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9,\nwhere Donaldson gives the whole passage as follows:--\n\n  \"Then take these things to heart, my son; for error\n  Is as the universal lot of man;\n  But, whensoe'er he errs, that man no longer\n  Is witless, or unblest, who, having fallen\n  Into misfortune, seeks to mend his ways,\n  And is not obstinate: _the stiff-necked temper_\n  Must oft plead guilty to the charge of folly.\"\n              SOPHOCLES, ANTIG. v. 1028.\n\n\n Note 51 (p. 209).\n \". . . unless some god endure\n Vicarious thy tortures.\"\n\nThe idea of vicarious sacrifice, or punishment by substitution of one\nperson for another, does not seem to have been very familiar to the\nGreek mind; at least, I do not trace it in Homer. It occurs, however,\nmost distinctly in the well-known case of MEN\u0152CEUS, in Euripides'\nplay of the PH\u0152NISS\u00c6. In this passage, also, it is plainly implied,\nthough the word \u03b4\u03b9\u03ac\u03b4\u03bf\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2, strictly translated, means only a\n_successor_, and not a _substitute_. WELCK. (_Trilog_. p. 47) has\npointed out that the person here alluded to is the centaur CHIRON, of\nwhom Apollodorus (II. 5-11-12) says that \"Hercules, after freeing\nPrometheus, who had assumed the olive chaplet (WELCK. reads\n\u1f11\u03bb\u03cc\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd), delivered up Chiron to Jove willing, though immortal, to\ndie in his room (\u03b8\u03bd\u03ae\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u1f70\u03bd\u03c4\u1fbd \u1f01\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5). This is literally the Christian\nidea of vicarious death. The Druids, according to C\u00e6sar (B.C. VI.\n16), held the doctrine strictly--\"_pro vita hominis nisi hominis vita\nreddatur non posse aliter deorum immortalium numen placari._\" Of\nexisting heathens practising human sacrifice, the religious rites of the\nKhonds in Orissa present the idea {403} of vicarious sacrifice in the\nmost distinct outline. See the interesting memoir of Captain Macpherson\nin _Blackwood's Magazine_ for August, 1842.\n\n\n Note 52 (p. 210).\n \"Seems he not a willing madman,\n Let him reap the fruits he sowed.\"\n\nI have translated these lines quite freely, as the text is corrupt,\nand the emendations proposed do not contain any idea worth the\ntranslator's adopting. SCHOE. reads--\n\n  \u03a4\u03af \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f10\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5\u03af\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9 \u03bc\u1f74 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c0\u03ac\u03b9\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\n  \u1f18\u03b9 \u03c4\u03ac\u03b4 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b1\u03c5\u03c7\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c4\u03af \u03c7\u03b1\u03bb\u1fb7 \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03b9\u1ff6\u03bd;\n\nand translates\n\n  _Was fehlet ihm noch wahnwitzig zo seyn,_\n  _Wenn also er pocht? Wie zahmt er die Wuth?_\n\nPROW. from a different reading, has\n\n  To thee, if this resolve seems good,\n  Why shouldst thou check thy frenzied mood?\n\n\n\nNOTES TO THE SUPPLIANTS\n\n{404}\n\n Note 1 (p. 219).\n \"Jove the suppliant's high protector.\"\n\n\u0396\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c6\u03af\u03ba\u03c4\u03c9\u03c1, literally _suppliant Jove_, the epithet which properly\nbelongs to the worshipper being transferred to the object of worship.\nThe reader will note here another instance of the monotheistic element\nin Polytheism, so often alluded to in these Notes. Jove, as the supreme\nmoral governor of the universe, has a general supervision of the whole\nsocial system of gods and men; and specially where there is no inferior\nprotector, as in the case of fugitives and suppliants--there he presses\nwith all the weight of his high authority. In such cases, religion\npresents a generous and truly humanizing aspect, and the \"_primus in\norbe Deos fecit timor_\" of the philosophers loses its sting.\n\n\n Note 2 (p. 219).\n \"Of the fat fine-sanded Nile!\"\n\nWELLAUER, in his usual over-cautious way, has not received PAUW's\nemendation \u03bb\u03b5\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c8\u03b1\u03bc\u03ac\u03b8\u03c9\u03bd into his text, though he calls it _certissimum_\nin his notes. PAL., whom I follow, acts in these matters with a more\nmanly decision. Even without the authority of PLINY (XXXV. 13), I\nshould adopt so natural an emendation, where the text is plainly\ncorrupt.\n\n\n Note 3 (p. 219).\n \"Gently thrilled the brize-stung heifer\n With his procreant touch.\"\n\nSee p. 204 above, and Note 48 to Prometheus. There prevails throughout\nthis play a constant allusion to the divine significance of the name\nEPAPHUS, meaning, as it does, _touch_. To the Greeks, as already\nremarked (p. 388), this was no mere punning; and the names of the gods\n(Note 17, p. 391 above) were one of the strongest instruments of Heathen\ndevotion. That there is an allusion to this in Matthew vi. 7, I have no\ndoubt.\n\n\n Note 4 (p. 219).\n \"Ye blissful gods supremely swaying.\"\n\nI see no necessity here, with PAL., for changing \u1f67\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2 into \u1f66\n\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2--but it is a matter of small importance to the translator. Jove,\n_the third_, is a method of designating the supreme power of which we\nhave frequent examples in \u00c6schylus--see the Eumenides, p. 164, where\n_Jove the Saviour all-perfecting_ is mentioned after _Pallas_ and\n_Loxias_, as it were, to crown the invocation with the greatest of all\nnames. In that passage \u03c4\u03c1\u03af\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 occurs in the original, which I was\nwrong to omit.\n\n\n Note 5 (p. 220).\n \"Marriage beds which right refuses.\"\n\nIn what countries are first cousins forbidden to marry? WELCKER does\nnot know. \"_Das Eherecht worauf diese Weigerung beruht ist nicht\nbekannt._\"--WELCKER (_Trilog._ 391).\n\n\n Note 6 (p. 221).\n \"With Ionian wailings unstinted.\"\n\n\"Perhaps _Ionian_ is put in this place antithetically to \u039d\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03b8\u03b5\u03c1\u1fc6,\n_from the Nile_, in the next line, and the sense is, 'though coming\nfrom Egypt, {405} yet, being of Greek extraction, I speak Greek.'\n\"--PALEY. This appears to me the simplest and most satisfactory\ncomment on the passage.\n\n\n Note 7 (p. 221).\n \"From the far misty land.\"\n\nThat is EGYPT. So called according to the Etymol. M. quoted by\nSTAN., from the cloudy appearance which the low-lying Delta district\npresents to the stranger approaching it from the sea.\n\n\n Note 8 (p. 222).\n \"All godlike power is calm.\"\n\nIt would be unfair not to advertise the English reader that this fine\nsentiment is a translation from a conjectural reading, \u03c0\u1fb6\u03bd \u1f04\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\n\u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd, of WELL., which, however, is in beautiful harmony with\nthe context. The text generally in this part of the play is extremely\ncorrupt. In the present stanza, WELL.'s correction of \u03b4\u03b5 \u1f00\u03c0\u03b9\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd into\n\u1f10\u03bb\u03c0\u03af\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd deserves to be celebrated as one of the few grand triumphs of\nverbal criticism that have a genuine poetical value.\n\n\n Note 9 (p. 222).\n \"Ah! well-a-day! ah! well-a-day!\"\n\nThe reader must imagine here a complete change in the style of the\nmusic--say from the major to the minor key. In the whole Chorus, the\nmind of the singer sways fitfully between a hopeful confidence and a\ndark despair. The faith in the counsel of Jove, and in the sure\ndestruction of the wicked, so finely expressed in the preceding stanzas,\nsupports the sinking soul but weakly in this closing part of the hymn.\nThese alterations of feeling exhibited under such circumstances will\nappear strange to no one who is acquainted with the human, and\nespecially with the female heart.\n\n\n Note 10 (p. 223).\n \"Ye Apian hills.\"\n\n\"Apia, an old name for Peloponnesus, which remains still a mystery, even\nafter the attempt of Butmann to throw light upon it.\"--GROTE, Hist, of\nGreece, Part I. c. 4. \u00c6schylus' own account of Apis, the supposed\noriginator of the name Apia, will be found in this play a few lines\nbelow. I have consulted Butmann, and find nothing but a conglomeration\nof vague and slippery etymologies.\n\n\n Note 11 (p. 225).\n \". . . rounded cars.\"\n\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03bc\u03c0\u03cd\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2, _with a bend_ or _sweep_; alluding to the form of the rim of\nthe ancient chariot, between the charioteer and the horses. See the\nfigure in SMITH's _Dict. Antiq._, Articles \u1f04\u03bd\u03c4\u03c5\u03be and _currus_.\n\n\n Note 12 (p. 225).\n \". . . the Agonian gods.\"\n\nThe common meaning that a Greek scholar would naturally give to the\nphrase \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u1fd6 \u1f00\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 is that given by HESYCH, viz., _gods that\npreside over public games_, or, as I have rendered it in the Agamemnon\n(p. 57 above), _gods that rule the chance of combat_. For persons who,\nlike the Herald in that play, had just escaped from a great struggle,\nor, like the fugitive Virgins in this piece, were going through one,\nthere does not appear to be any great impropriety (notwithstanding\nPAL.'s. _inepte_) in an appeal to the gods of combat. Opposed to this\ninterpretation, however, we have the common practice of Homer, with whom\nthe substantive \u1f00\u03b3\u03ce\u03bd generally means an assembly; and the testimony\nof Eustathius, who, in his notes to {406} that poet, Iliad, \u03a9 1335, 58,\nsays \"\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1 \u0391\u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03cd\u03bb\u1ff3 \u1f00\u03b3\u03ce\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u1f76 \u1f41\u03b9 \u1f00\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u1fb6\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9;\" _i.e. gods that preside over\nassemblies._\n\n\n Note 13 (p. 225).\n \". . . your sistered hands.\"\n\n\u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd\u03cd\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd. I am inclined to think with PAL. that \u1f10\u03c5\u03c9\u03bd\u03cd\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd\nmay be the true reading; _i.e. in your left hands_. And yet, so fond\nis \u00c6schylus of quaint phrases that I do not think myself at liberty to\nreject the vulgate, so long as it is susceptible of the very\nappropriate meaning given in the text. \"_Hands of the same name_\" may\nvery well be tolerated for \"_hands of the same race_\"--\"hands of\nsisters.\"\n\n\n Note 14 (p. 225).\n \"Even so; and with benignant eye look down!\"\n\nI have here departed from WELL.'s arrangement of this short colloquy\nbetween Danaus and his daughters, and adopted PAL.'s, which appears\nto me to satisfy the demands both of sense and metrical symmetry. That\nthere is something wrong in the received text WELL. admits.\n\n\n Note 15 (p. 226).\n \"There where his bird the altar decorates.\"\n\nI have here incorporated into the text the natural and unembarrassed\nmeaning of this passage given by PAL. The bird of Jove, of course,\nis the eagle. What the Scholiast and STAN. say about the cock\nappears to be pure nonsense, which would never have been invented but\nfor the confused order of the dialogue in the received text.\n\n\n Note 16 (p. 226).\n \"Apollo, too, the pure, the exiled once.\"\n\n\"They invoke Apollo to help them, strangers and fugitives, because\nthat god himself had once been banished from heaven by Jove, and kept\nthe herds of Admetus.\n\n  'Non ignara mali miseris succurrere disco.'\"--STAN.\n\n\n Note 17 (p. 226).\n \"Here, Hermes likewise, as Greece knows the god.\"\n\nThis plainly points out a distinction between the Greek and the famous\nEgyptian Hermes. So the Scholiast, and STAN. who quotes Cic., Nat.\nDeor. III. 22.\n\n\n Note 18 (p. 226).\n \"Can bird eat bird and be an holy thing?\"\n\nThis seems to have been a common-place among the ancients. PLINY, in\nthe following passage, draws a contrast between man and the inferior\nanimals, not much to the honor of the former:--\"_C\u00e6tera animalia in suo\ngenere probe degunt; congregari videmus et stare contra dissimilia;\nleonum feritas inter se non dimicat; serpentum morsus non petit\nserpentes; ne maris quidem bellu\u00e6 ac pisces nisi in diversa genera\ns\u00e6viunt. At hercule homini plarima ex homine sunt mala._\"--NAT. HIST.\nVII. proem. This custom of blackening human nature (which is bad enough,\nwithout being made worse) has been common enough also in modern times,\nespecially among a certain school of theologians, very far, indeed, in\nother respects, from claiming kindred with the Roman polyhistor; but the\nfact is, one great general law over-rides both man and the brute, viz.\nthis--LIKE HERDS {407} WITH LIKE--the only difference being that human\nbeings, with a great outward similarity, are characterized by a more\nvarious inward diversity than the lower animals. There are, in fact, men\nof all various kinds represented in the moral world--all those varieties\nwhich different races and species exhibit in the physical. There are\nlamb-men, tiger-men, serpent-men, pigeon-men, and hawk-men. That such\ndiscordant natures should sometimes, nay always in a certain sense,\nstrive, is a necessary consequence of their existing.\n\n\n Note 19 (p. 226).\n \"And of no host the acknowledged guest, unfearing\n Ye tread this land.\"\n\n\u1f00\u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03be\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2, without a \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03be\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2, or a _public host_ or _entertainer_--one\nwho occupied the same position on the part of the state towards a\nstranger that a \u03be\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 or landlord, did to his private guest. In some\nrespects \"the office of proxenus bears great resemblance to that of a\nmodern consul or minister resident.\"--Dr. SCHMITZ, in Smith's Dict.,\narticle _Hospitium_. Compare SOUTHEY, Notes to MADOC. I. 5, _The\nStranger's House_.\n\n\n Note 20 (p. 227).\n \"Of old earth-born Pal\u00e6cthon am the son,\n My name Pelasgus.\"\n\nHere we have an example of those names of the earliest progenitors of an\nancient race that seem to bear fiction on their face; PALAECTHON\nmeaning merely the _ancient son of the land_, and PELASGUS being the\nname-father of the famous ante-Homeric wandering Greeks, whom we call\nPELASGI.\n\n\n Note 21 (p. 227).\n \"All the land where Algos flows, and Strymon.\"\n\nThe geography here is very confused. I shall content myself with noting\nthe different points from M\u00fcller's map (_Dorians_)--\n\n(1) ALGOS; unknown.\n\n(2) STRYMON; a well-known river in Thrace.\n\n(3) PERRH\u00c6BIANS; in Thessaly, North of the Peneus (Homer, Il. II.\n749).\n\n(4) PINDUS; the well-known mountain ridge in the centre of Northern\nGreece, separating the great rivers which descend on the one hand\nthrough Epirus into the Ionian sea and the Adriatic, on the other,\ninto the \u00c6gean.\n\n(5) P\u00c6ONIA; in the North of Macedonia (Iliad II. 848).\n\n(6) DODONA; in Epirus.\n\n\n Note 22 (p. 227).\n \"Apollo's son, by double right, physician\n And prophet both.\"\n\nThis is somewhat of a circumlocution for the single Greek phrase,\n\u1f31\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03cc\u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2, _physician-prophet_; a name applied to Apollo himself by\nthe Pythoness, in the prologue to the Eumenides (p. 142 above). The\noriginal conjunction of the two offices of prophet and leech in the\nperson of Melampus, Apis, Chiron, etc. and their patron Apollo, is a\nremarkable fact in the history of civilization. The multiplication and\nisolation of professions originally combined and confounded is a\nnatural enough consequence of the progress of society, of which\nexamples occur in every sphere of human activity; but there is,\nbesides, a peculiar fitness in the conjunction of {408} medicine and\ntheology, arising from the intimate connexion of mind with bodily\nailment, too much neglected by some modern drug-minglers, and also, from\nthe fact that, in ancient times, nothing was more common than to refer\ndiseases, especially those of a striking kind, to the immediate\ninterference of the Divine chastiser--(see Hippocrates \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u1f31\u03b5\u03c1\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03bd\u03cc\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5\n_init_.). Men are never more disposed to acknowledge divine power than\nwhen under the influence of severe affliction; and accordingly we find\nthat, in some savage or semi-savage tribes, the \"medicine-man\" is the\nonly priest. It would be well, indeed, if, in the present state of\nadvanced science, professional men would more frequently attempt to\nrestore the original oneness of the healing science--(see Max. Tyr.\n\u03c0\u1ff6\u03c2 \u1fb6\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f04\u03bb\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f12\u03b9\u03b7)--if all medical men would, like the late Dr.\nAbercrombie, bear in mind that man has a soul as well as a body, and all\ntheologians more distinctly know that human bodies enclose a stomach as\nwell as a conscience, with which latter the operations of the former are\noften strangely confounded.\n\n\n Note 23 (p. 228).\n \". . . Io, on this Argive ground,\n Erst bore the keys to Hera.\"\n\n_i.e._ was priestess of the Argive goddess. The keys are the sign of\ncustodiary authority in modern as in ancient times. See various\ninstances in STAN.\n\n\n Note 24 (p. 228).\n \"So runs the general rumour.\"\n\nAfter this, WELL. supposes something has fallen out of the text; but\nto me a break in the narration of the Chorus, caused by the eagerness\nof the royal questioner, seems sufficiently to explain the state of\nthe text. PAL. agrees.\n\n\n Note 25 (p. 228).\n \"Like a leaping bull,\n Transformed he came.\"\n\n\u0392\u03bf\u03c5\u03b8\u03cc\u03c1\u1ff3 \u03c4\u03b1\u03cd\u03c1\u1ff3. I have softened this expression a little; so modern\ndelicacy compels. The original is quite Homeric--\"\u03c3\u03c5\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03b2\u03ae\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\n\u03ba\u03ac\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd.\"--Odyssey XI. 131. Homer and the author of the Book of Genesis\nagree in expressing natural things in a natural way, equally remote\n(as healthy nature always is) from fastidiousness and from prudery.\n\n\n Note 26 (p. 228).\n\n_King_. A question has evidently dropt here; but it is of no\nconsequence. The answer supplies the first link in the genealogical\nchain deducing the Danaides from Io and Epaphus. See above, p. 400,\nNote 44.\n\n\n Note 27 (p. 229).\n \"Both this and that.\"\n\nI have translated this difficult passage freely, according to the note\nof SCH\u00dcTZ., as being most comprehensive, and excluding neither the\none ground of objection nor the other, both of which seem to have\noccupied the mind of the virgins. I am not, however, by any means sure\nwhat the passage really means. E. P. Oxon. has--\n\n  \"Who would seek to obtain kindred as masters?\"\n\nPOT.--\n\n  \"And who would wish to make their friends their lord.\"\n\nWhere the real ground of objection is so darkly indicated, a translator\nis at liberty to smuggle a sort of commentary into the text.\n\n{409}\n\n\n Note 28 (p. 229).\n \"The wrath of suppliant Jove.\"\n\n_i.e._ Jove the protector of suppliants. See above, Note 1.\n\n\n Note 29 (p. 230).\n \"Like a heifer young by the wolf pursued.\"\n\nThe scholar will recognize here a deviation from WELL.'s text\n\u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03ba\u03cc\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd, and the adoption of Hermann's admirable emendation,\n\u03bb\u03c5\u03ba\u03bf\u03b4\u03af\u03c9\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd. PAL. has received this into his text, and LIN.,\ngenerally a severe censor, approves.--_Class. Museum_, No. VII. p. 31.\nBoth on metrical and philological grounds, the reading demands\nreception.\n\n\n Note 30 (p. 230).\n \"Thou art the state, and the people art thou.\"\n\nThis is a very interesting passage in reference to the political\nconstitution--if the term constitution be here allowable--of the loose\npolitical aggregates of the heroic ages. The Chorus, of course, speak\nonly their own feelings; but their feelings, in this case, are in\nremarkable consistency with the usages of the ancient Greeks, as\ndescribed by Homer. The government of the heroic ages, as it appears in\nthe Iliad, was a monarchy, on common occasions absolute, but liable to\nbe limited by a circumambient atmosphere of oligarchy, and the\nprospective possibility of resistance on the part of a people habitually\npassive. Another remarkable circumstance, is the identity of church and\nstate, well indicated by Virgil, in that line--\n\n  Rex Anius, rex idem hominum Ph\u0153bique sacerdos.\n                                 \u00c6NEID III.\n\nand concerning which, Ottfried M\u00fcller says--\"In ancient Greece it may\nbe said, with almost equal truth, that the kings were priests, as that\nthe priests were kings\" (Mythology, Leitch, p. 187). On this identity of\nchurch and state were founded those laws against the worship of strange\ngods, which formed so remarkable an exception to the comprehensive\nspirit of toleration that Hume and Gibbon have not unjustly lauded as\none of the advantageous concomitants of Polytheism. The intolerance,\nwhich is the necessary consequence of such an identity, has found its\nthorough and consistent champions only among the Mahommedan and\nChristian monotheists of modern times. Even the large-hearted and\nliberal-minded Dr. Arnold was so far possessed by the ancient doctrine\nof the identity of church and state, that he could not conceive of the\npossibility of admitting Jews to deliberate in the senate of a Christian\nstate. In modern times, also, we have witnessed with wonder the full\ndevelopment of a doctrine most characteristically Homeric, that the\nabsolute power of kings, whether in civil or in ecclesiastical matters,\nis equally _of divine right_.\n\n  \u03a4\u03b9\u03bc\u1f74 \u03c4\u00b4 \u1f10\u03ba \u0394\u03b9\u03cc\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9, \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03b4\u03ad \u1f11 \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03af\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1 \u0396\u03b5\u03cd\u03c2.\n                            IL. II. 197.\n\n \"For from Jove the honor cometh, him the counsellor Jove doth love.\"\n\nOn this very interesting subject every page of Homer is pregnant with\ninstruction; but those who are not familiar with that bible of\nclassical scholars will find a bright reflection of the most important\ntruths in GROTE, Hist. Greece, P. I. c. XX.\n\n\n Note 31 (p. 231).\n \"Without the people\n I cannot do this thing.\"\n\n\u00c6schylus makes the monarch of the heroic ages speak here with a strong\ntincture of the democracy of the latter times of Greece, no doubt\nsecuring {410} to himself thereby immense billows of applause from his\nAthenian auditors, as the tragedians were fond of doing, by giving\nutterance to liberal sentiments like that of \u00c6mon in Sophocles--\"\u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2\n\u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f40\u03c5\u03ba \u1f12\u03c3\u03b8 \u1f23\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03cc\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c3\u03b8\u1fbd \u1f11\u03bd\u03cc\u03c2.\" But how little the people had to\nsay in the government of the heroic ages appears strikingly in that most\ndramatic scene described in the second book of the Iliad, which GROTE\n(II. 94) has, with admirable judgment, brought prominently forward in\nhis remarks on the power of the \u1f00\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u03ac, or popular assembly, in the\nheroic ages. Ulysses holds forth the orthodox doctrine in these terms--\n\n  \"Sit thee down, and cease thy murmurings: sit, and hear thy betters\n    speak,\n  Thou unwarlike, not in battle known, in council all unheard!\n  Soothly all who are Ach\u00e6ans are not kings, and cannot be;\n  Evil is the sway of many; only one may bear the rule,\n  One be king, to whom the deep-designing Kronos' mighty son\n  Gave the sceptre and the right.\"--Il. II. 200.\n\n\n Note 32 (p. 233).\n \". . . possessory Jove.\"\n\n\u0396\u03b5\u03cd\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03ae\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2.--An epithet characteristic of Jove, as the supreme\ndisposer of human affairs. KLAUSEN (Theolog. II. 15) compares the\nepithet \u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 from \u03ba\u03bb\u1fc6\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2, _a lot_, which I have paraphrased in p.\n230 above.\n\n  \"_The Jove that allotteth their lot to all._\"\n\nKLAUSEN quotes Pausanias (I. 31-4) to the effect that \u0396\u03b5\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2\nwas worshipped in Attica along with Ceres, Minerva, Cora, and the\nawful Maids or Furies.\n\n\n Note 33 (p. 234).\n \"The pillar-compassed seats divine.\"\n\nFrom a conjecture of PAL., \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03cd\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2; the \u03c0\u03c5\u03bb\u03b9\u03c3\u03c3\u03cc\u03c5\u03c7\u03c9\u03bd being\nevidently repeated by a wandering of the eye or ear of the\ntranscriber. Sophocles, I recollect, in the Antigone, has\n\u1f00\u03bc\u03c6\u03b9\u03ba\u03af\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bd\u03b1\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2. Of course, in the case of such blunders, where\nthe true reading cannot be restored, the best that can be done is to\nsubstitute an appropriate one.\n\n\n Note 34 (p. 235).\n \". . . the assembly of the people.\"\n\nThe word \u1f00\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u03ac, _popular assembly_, does not occur here; but it is\nplainly implied. It is to be distinguished from the \u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03ae, or _council\nof the chiefs_.--See GROTE as above, and HOMER _passim_.\n\n\n Note 35 (p. 235).\n \"All crowning Consummator.\"\n\nAs the opening words of this prayer generally are one of the finest\ntestimonies to the sovereignty of Jove to be found in the poet, so the\nconjunction of words \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03ad\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u1f78\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd, \u03ba\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 is particularly to be\nnoted. The adjectives \u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03bf\u03c2, \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03ae\u03c2, and the verb \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03ad\u03c9,\nare often applied with a peculiar significancy to the king of the\ngods, as he who alone can conduct to a happy end every undertaking,\nunder whatever auspices commenced. This doctrine is most reverently\nannounced by the Chorus of this play towards the end (p. 244), in\nthese comprehensive terms--\n\n       \u03c4\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u1f04\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5 \u03c3\u03ad\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd\n  \u03b8\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9.\n\n\"What thing to mortal men is completed without thee.\" And in this\nsense Clytemnestra, in the Agamemnon (p. 69), prays--\n\n  \u0396\u03b5\u1fe6 \u0396\u03b5\u1fe6 \u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03b5 \u03c4\u1f70\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bc\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c5\u03c7\u1f70\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f72\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9.\n\n{411}\n\nOn the over-ruling special providence of Jove generally the scholar\nshould read KLAUSEN, _Theol._ II., 15, and _Class. Mus._ No. XXVI.\npp. 429-433.\n\n\n Note 36 (p. 236).\n \". . . hence by the brize.\"\n\nThe reader will observe that the course of Io's wanderings here sketched\nis something very different from that given in the Prometheus, and much\nmore intelligible. The geography is so familiar to the general reader\nfrom the Acts of the Apostles, that comment is unnecessary.\n\n\n Note 37 (p. 236).\n \"Divinely fretted with fitful oar she hies.\"\n\nThe partiality of \u00c6schylus for sea-phrases has been often observed.\nHere, however, Paley for the \u1f10\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1, of the vulgate has proposed\n\u1f10\u03c1\u03b5\u03b8\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1, aptly for the sense and the metre; but LIN. (_Class.\nMus._ No. VII. 30) seems right in allowing the text to remain. I have\ntaken up both readings into my rendering.\n\n\n Note 38 (p. 236).\n \"Nor dared to approach this thing of human face.\"\n\nIt is difficult to know what \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u1f72\u03c2 in the text refers. POT.\nrefers it to the mind of the maid--\n\n  \"Disdaining to be touched.\"\n\nTo me it seems more natural to refer the difficulty of touching to the\nsuperstitious fears of the Egyptians; and to translate \"_not safely to\nbe meddled with_.\" This is the feeling that my translation has\nattempted to bring out.\n\n\n Note 39 (p. 237).\n \"Jove's decided will.\"\n\nI adopt Heath's emendation \u0392\u03bf\u03cd\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 for \u03b4\u03bf\u03cd\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2. WELL., with\nsuperstitious reverence for the most corrupt text extant, retaining the\n\u03b4\u03bf\u03cd\u03bb\u03af\u03bf\u03c2, is forced to explain \u03b4\u03bf\u03cd\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c6\u03c1\u03b7\u03bd, \"_dictum videtur de\nhominibus qui Jovis auxilium imploraverunt;_\" but this will never do.\nThe reader is requested to observe what a pious interpretation is, in\nthis passage, given to the connection of Jove and Io--how different\nfrom that given by Prometheus, p. 202 above. We may be assured that\nthe orthodox Heathen view of this and other such matters lies in the\npresent beautifully-toned hymn, and not in the hostile taunts which\nthe poet, for purely dramatic purposes, puts into the mouth of the\nenemy of Jove.\n\n\n Note 40 (p. 240).\n \"Holy Hecate's aid avail thee.\"\n\nHecate is an epithet of Artemis, as Hecatos of Apollo, meaning _far_\nor _distant_ (\u1f15\u03ba\u03b1\u03c2). According to the prevalent opinion among\nmythologists, both ancient and modern, this goddess is merely an\nimpersonation of the MOON, as PHOEBUS of the SUN. The term\n\"far-darting\" applies to both equally; the rays of the great\nluminaries being fitly represented as arrows of a far-shooting deity.\nIn the Strophe which follows, Phoebus, under the name of \u039b\u03c5\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, is\ncalled upon to be gracious to the youth of Argos.\n\n  \u1f10\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u1f74\u03c2 \u03b4\u1fbd (\u03bf) \u039b\u03cd\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2\n  \u1f14\u03c3\u03c4\u03c9 \u03c0\u03ac\u03c3\u1fb3 \u03bd\u03b5\u03bf\u03bb\u03b1\u03af\u1fb3,\n\nand in the translation I have taken the liberty, _pro hac vice_, as\nthe lawyers say, to suppose that this epithet, as some modern scholars\nsuggest, has nothing to do etymologically with \u03bb\u03cd\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2, _a wolf_, but\nrather with the root {412} \u03bb\u03c5\u03ba, which we find in the substantive\n\u03bb\u03c5\u03ba\u03ac\u03b2\u03b1\u03c2, and in the Latin _luceo_. \u00c6schylus, however, in the SEVEN\nAGAINST THEBES (p. 266 above), adopts the derivation from \u03bb\u03cd\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2, as\nwill be seen from my version. I have only to add that, if Artemis be\nthe Moon, her function as the patroness of parturition, alluded to in\nthe present passage, is the most natural thing in the world. On this\nwhole subject, KEIGHTLEY, c. viii. is very sensible.\n\n\n Note 41 (p. 241).\n \"The bulging fence-work on each side.\"\n\n(\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03ac\u1fe4\u1fe5\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2, more commonly \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u1fe4\u1fe5\u03cd\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1.) \"The ancients, as early as\nthe time of Homer, had various preparations raised above the edge of\na vessel, made of skins and wicker-work, which were intended as a\nprotection against high waves, and also to serve as a kind of\nbreast-work behind which the men might be safe from the attacks of the\nenemy.\"--DICT. ANTIQ _voce_ SHIPS.\n\n\n Note 42 (p. 241).\n                           \". . . the prow\n Fronted with eyes to track its watery way.\"\n\n\"It is very common to represent an eye on each side of the prow of\nancient ships.\"--Do., and woodcuts there from Montfaucon. This custom,\nPAL. remarks, still continues in the Mediterranean.\n\n\n Note 43 (p. 241).\n \"To champion our need.\"\n\nWELLAUER says that the \"sense demands\" a distribution of the\nconcluding part of this speech between Danaus and the Chorus; but I can\nsee no reason for disturbing the ancient order, which is retained by\nBUT., though not by PAL. That the sense requires no change, the\ntranslation should make evident.\n\n\n Note 44 (p. 242).\n \". . . their ships dark-fronted.\"\n\n(\u03ba\u03c5\u03b1\u03bd\u03ce\u03c0\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2.) The reader will call to mind the \u03bd\u1fc6\u03b5\u03c2 \u03bc\u03ad\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9, the\nblack ships in Homer.--See DICT. ANTIQ. _voce_ SHIPS.\n\n\n Note 45 (p. 242).\n \"A strong-limbed race with noon-day sweats well hardened.\"\n\nThis sentiment must have awakened a hearty response in the minds of the\nGreeks, who were superior to the moderns in nothing so much as in the\nprominency which they gave to gymnastic exercises, and their contempt\nfor all sorts of \u03c3\u03ba\u03b9\u03bf\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03af\u03b1--_rearing in the shade_--which our modern\nbookish system tends to foster.\n\n\n Note 46 (p. 242).\n \"No Mars is in her.\"\n\n\u1f44\u03c5\u03ba \u1f14\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4 \u1f0c\u03c1\u03b7\u03c2, a proverbial expression for _pithless_, _nerveless_. The\nsame expression is used in the initiatory anap\u00e6sts of the Agamemnon.\n\u1f0c\u03c1\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b4 \u1f44\u03c5\u03ba \u1f14\u03bd\u03b9 \u03c7\u03ce\u03c1\u1fb3.\n\n\n Note 47 (p. 242).\n \"Good Greek corn is better than papyrus.\"\n\n\"Pr\u00e6ter alios plurimos usus etiam in cibis recepta fuit\npapyrus\"--ABUL. FADI--\"radix ejus pulcis est; quapropter eam\nmasticant et sugunt \u00c6gyptii.\" --OLAUS CELSIUS, _Hierozoicon, Upsal_,\n1745. I consulted this valuable work myself, but owe the original\nreference to an excellent \"Essay on the Papyrus of the Ancients, by W.\nH. DE VRIESE,\" translated from the Dutch by W. B. MACDONALD, Esq. of\nRammerscales, in the _Class. Mus._ No. XVI. {413} p. 202, In that\narticle it is stated that \"when Guilandinus was in Egypt in the year\n1559-60, the pith was then used as food.\" HERODOTUS (Euterp. 92) says\nthat they eat the lower part, roasting it in an oven (\u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03b2\u03ac\u03bd\u1ff3\n\u03c0\u03bd\u03af\u03be\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2). PLINY (XIII. 11) says, \"mandunt quoque, crudum\ndecoctumque succum tantum devorantes.\" In the text, of course, the\nallusion is a sort of proverbial ground of superiority, on the part of\nthe Greeks, over the sons of the Nile, pretty much in the spirit of Dr.\nJohnston's famous definition of oats--\"_food for horses in England, and\nfor men in Scotland._\" I have only further to add, that the papyrus\nbelongs to the natural family of the _Cyperace\u00e6_ or _Sedges_, and,\nthough not now common in Egypt, is a well-known plant, and to be seen in\nmost of our botanical gardens.\n\n\n Note 48 (p. 242).\n \"The shepherds of the ships.\"\n\nI have retained this phrase scrupulously--\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2 \u03bd\u03b1\u1ff6\u03bd--as an\ninteresting relique of the patriarchal age. So in the opening choral\nchaunt of the Persians, Xerxes is \"shepherd of many sheep,\" and a\nlittle farther on in the same play, _Atossa_ asks the Chorus, \"who is\nshepherd of this (the Athenian) people?\" It is in such small\npeculiarities that the whole character and expression of a language\nlies.\n\n\n Note 49 (p. 242).\n \". . . on this coast\n Harbours are few.\"\n\n\"Nauplia was almost the only harbour on the coast of Argolis.\"--PAL.,\nfrom BOTH. I am not topographer enough to be able to confirm this.\n\n\n Note 50 (p. 243).\n \"On a hanging cliff where lone winds sigh.\"\n\n\u03ba\u03c1\u03b5\u03bc\u1f70\u03c2. _Robortellus_: which WELL. might surely have adopted. The\ndescription of wild mountain loneliness is here very fine. Let the\nreader imagine such a region as that of BEN-MACDHUI in Aberdeenshire,\nso well described in _Blackwood's Magazine_, August, 1847. \u1f40\u03b9\u03cc\u03c6\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd is\nmore than \u1f44\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2; and I have ventured on a periphrasis. Hermann's Latin\ntranslation given by PAL. is--\"_saxum praeruptum, capris inaccessum,\nincommonstrabile, solitudine vastum, propendens, vulturibus\nhabitatum._\"\n\n\n Note 51 (p. 244).\n\nCHORUS (_in separate voices, and short hurried exclamations_). I most\ncordially agree with WELL. in attaching the ten verses 805-15 to what\nfollows, rather than making it stand as an Epode to what precedes. A\nchange of style is distinctly felt at the conclusion of the third\nAntistrophe; the dim apprehension of approaching harm becomes a\ndistinct perception, and the choral music more turbid, sudden, and\nexclamatory. This I have indicated by breaking up the general chaunt\ninto individual voices.--See p. 377, Note 19.\n\n\n Note 52 (p. 245).\n \"Hence to the ships! to the good ships fare ye!\"\n\n\"What follows is most corrupt, but so made up of short sentences,\ncommands, and exclamations, that if the whole passage were wanting, it\nwould not be much missed. It is very tasteless, and full of turgid\nphraseology.\"--PALEY. All this is very true, if we look on the\nSuppliants as a play written to be read; but, being an opera composed\nfor music, what appears to us tasteless and extravagant, without that\nstimulating emotional atmosphere, {414} might have been, to the\nAthenians who heard it, the grand floodtide and tempestuous triumph of\nthe piece. Compare, especially, the passionate Oriental coronach with\nwhich \"The Persians\" concludes. We must never forget that we possess\nonly the skeleton of the sacred opera of the Greeks.\n\n\n Note 53 (p. 248).\n \"To find stray goods the world all over, Hermes\n Is prince of patrons.\"\n\n\"_Rei furtivae_,\" as the civil law says, \"_acterna est auctoritas_\"; and\nthe Herald, being sent out on a mission to reclaim what was abstracted,\nrequires no credentials but the fact of the heraldship, which he\nexercises under the patronage of the herald-god Hermes. It may be also,\nas the commentators suggest--though I recollect no passage to prove\nit--that Hermes, being a thief himself, and the patron of thieves, was\nthe most apt deity to whose intervention might be referred the recovery\nof stolen goods. Something of this kind seems implied in the epithet\n\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b9\u1ff3, _the searcher_, here given to Hermes.\n\n\n Note 54 (p. 250).\n \"In the general view, and publishes their praise.\"\n\nAfter these words I have missed out a line, of which I can make nothing\nsatisfactory--\n\n  \u03ba\u1f04\u03bb\u03c9\u03c1\u03b1 \u03ba\u03c9\u03bb\u03cd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u1f61\u03c2 \u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u1f10\u03c1\u1ff6.\n\nA few lines below, for (\u1f40)\u03c5\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba\u03bb\u03b7\u03c1\u03ce\u03b8\u03b7 \u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u1f76, I have followed PAL. in\nadopting HEATH's \u03b5\u1f35\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u1fbd \u1f20\u03c1\u03cc\u03b8\u03b7 \u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u1f76.\n\n\n Note 55 (p. 251).\n\nCHORAL HYMN. This final Chorus of the Suppliants and the opening one\nof the Persians are remarkable for the use of that peculiar rhythm,\ntechnically called the _Ionic a minore_, of which a familiar example\nexists in Horace, Ode III. 12. What the \u00e6sthetical or moral effect of\nthis measure was on an Athenian ear it is perhaps impossible for us, at\nthe present day, to know; but I have thought it right, in both cases,\nwhen it occurs, to mark the peculiarity by the adoption of an English\nrhythm, in some similar degree removed from the vulgar use, and not\nwithout a certain cognate character. In modern music, at least, the\nIonic of the Greek text and the measure used in my translation are mere\nvarieties of the same rhythmical genus marked musically by \u00be. As for\nthe structure of the Chorus, its division into two semi-choruses is\nanticipative of the division of feeling among the sisters, which\nafterwards arose when the conduct of their stern father forced them to\nchoose between filial and connubial duty. One thing also is plain, that\nthere is nothing of a real moral finale in this Chorus. Regarded as a\nconcluding ode, it were a most weak and impotent performance. The tone\nof grateful jubilee with which it sets out, is, after the second\nStrophe, suddenly changed into the original note of apprehension,\nevil-foreboding, doubt, and anxiety, plainly pointing to the terrible\ncatastrophe to be unveiled in the immediately succeeding play.\n\n\n Note 56 (p. 251).\n \"Yet, mighty praise be thine,\n Cyprian queen divine!\"\n\nThe Chorus here are evidently moved by a religious apprehension that, in\nplacing themselves under the patronage of the goddess of chastity, they\nmay have treated lightly the power and the functions of the great\ngoddess of {415} love. To reconcile the claims of opposing deities was a\ngreat problem of practical piety with all devout polytheists. The\nintroduction of Aphrodite here, as has been remarked, is also plainly\nprophetic of the part which Hypermnestra is to play in the subsequent\npiece, under the influence of the great Cyprian goddess preferring the\nlove of a husband to the command of a father.\n\n\n Note 57 (p. 252).\n \"Lovely Harmonia.\"\n\n\"Hesiod says that Harmonia (\u1f01\u03c1\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03b1--order or arrangement) was the\ndaughter of Ares and Aphrodite. This has evidently all the appearance\nof a physical myth; for from love and strife--_i.e._ attraction and\nrepulsion--arises the order or harmony of the universe.\"--KEIGHTLEY.\n\n\n Note 58 (p. 252).\n \"Yet must I fear the chase.\"\n\n\u03c6\u03c5\u03b3\u03ac\u03b4\u03b5\u03c3\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b4 \u1f12\u03c0\u03b9\u03c0\u03bb\u03cc\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2. HAUPT adopted by PAL. An excellent\nconjecture.\n\n\n\nNOTES TO THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES\n\n{416}\n\n Note 1 (p. 263).\n \"Which may averting Jove from me avert.\"\n\nThe epithet \u1f00\u03bb\u03b5\u03be\u03b7\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 or \u1f00\u03bb\u03b5\u03be\u03af\u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2 (Pausan. Att. III.) or the\naverter, applied to the gods (see Odys. III. 346, is to be noted), as\ncharacteristic of the grand fact in the history of mind, that with rude\nnations the fear of evil is the dominant religious motive; so much so,\nthat in the accounts which we read of some savage, or semi-savage\nnations, religion seems to consist altogether in a vague, dim fear of\nsome unknown power, either without moral attributes altogether, or even\npositively malignant. In this historical sense, the famous maxim,\n_primus in orbe deos fecit timor_--however insufficient as a principle\nof general theology--is quite true. In the present passage, the\nphraseology is remarkable.\n\n       \u1f67\u03bd \u0396\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bb\u03b5\u03be\u03b7\u03c4\u03ae\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2\n  \u1f18\u03c0\u03ce\u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b3\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf--\n\nliterally, _of which evils may Jove be the averter, and in being so,\nanswer to his name_. This allusion to the names and epithets of the gods\noccurs in \u00c6schylus with a frequency which marks it as a point of\ndevotional propriety in the worship of the Greeks. I have expressed the\nsame thing in the text by the repetition of _avert_. So in the\n_Choephor\u00e6_, p. 103, _Herald Hermes, herald me in this,_ &c.\n\n\n Note 2 (p. 263).\n \"In his ear and inward sense deep-pondered truths,\n By no false art, though without help from fire.\"\n\n\"Tiresias, the Theban seer, was blind, and could not divine by fire or\nother visible signs; but he had received from Pallas a remarkably acute\nhearing, and the faculty of understanding the voices of\nbirds.\"--_Apollodor_. III. 6.--STAN. WELL. objects to this, but\nsurely without good reason. Why are the ears--\u03b5\u03bd \u1f66\u03c3\u03b9--mentioned so\nexpressly, if not to make some contrast to the common method of\ndivining by the eye?\n\n\n Note 3 (p. 264).\n \"By Mars, En\u00fdo, and blood-loving Terror.\"\n\nWith Mars in Homer (Il. IV. 440) are coupled \u03c6\u03cc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c2 and \u0394(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2, _Fear_\nand _Terror_, as in this passage of \u00c6schylus, and \u1f1c\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2, _Strife_.\n\n  \"FEAR and TERROR went with him, and STRIFE that rages without bound,\n  STRIFE of Mars the man-destroyer, sister and companion dear.\"\n\nAnd in Livy (I. 27), Tullus Hostilius being pressed in battle,\n\"_duodecim vovit Salios, fanaque_ PALLORI _et_ PAVORI.\"--Compare\nCic. de Nat. Deor. III. c. 25. EN\u00ddO is coupled in Homer as a\nwar-goddess with ATHENA--\n\n  \"Well Tydides knew that Venus was no goddess made for war,\n  Not Athena, not E\u00fdno city-sacking.\"\n\nIn our language, we have naturalized her Roman counterpart BELLONA.\n\n{417}\n\n\n Note 4 (p. 264).\n \". . . the chariot of Adrastus.\"\n\n\"Because it had been predicted that Adrastus alone should survive the\nwar.\"--SCHOLIAST.\n\n\n Note 5 (p. 265).\n\nCHORUS. This Chorus, SCHNEIDER remarks, naturally divides itself\ninto four, or, as I think, rather into five distinct parts, (1) The\nChorus enter the stage in great hurry and agitation, indicated by the\nDochmiac verse--\u03c3\u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03ac\u03b4\u03b7\u03bd, according to the analogy of the\nEumenides--(see the \u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u0391\u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03cd\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5)--in scattered array, and, perhaps\nin the person of their Coryph\u00e6us, describe generally the arrival of the\nTheban host, and their march against the walls of Thebes. (2) But as the\nagitation increases, continuity of description becomes impossible, and a\nseries of broken and irregular exclamations and invocations by\nindividual voices follows. (3) Then a more regular prayer, or the\nchaunting of the Theban litany begins, in which we must suppose the\nwhole band to join. (4) This is interrupted, however, by the near terror\nof the assault, and the chaunt is again broken into hurried exclamations\nof individual voices. (5) The litany is then wound up by the whole band.\nOf course no absolute external proof of matters of this kind can be\noffered; but the internal evidence is sufficiently strong to warrant the\ntranslator in marking the peculiar character of the Chorus in some such\nmanner as I have done. For dramatic effect, this is of the utmost\nconsequence. Nothing has more hurt the dramatic character of \u00c6schylus,\nthan the practice of throwing into the form of a continuous ode what was\nwritten for a series of well-arranged individual voices. Whoever he was\namong more recent scholars that first analyzed the Choruses with a\nspecial view to separate the exclamatory parts from the continuous\nchaunt deserves my best thanks.--See Note 19 to the EUMENIDES, p. 377.\n\n\n Note 6 (p. 265).\n \"With clattering hoofs, on and on still they ride.\"\n\n\u03c0\u03b5\u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c0\u03bb\u03cc\u03ba\u03c4\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03c2. Before this word, another epithet \u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b4\u03b5\u03bc\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 occurs,\nwhich the intelligent scholar will readily excuse me for having\nomitted altogether.\n\n\n Note 7 (p. 265).\n \". . . the white-shielded host.\"\n\nThe epithet \u03bb\u03b5\u03cd\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03c0\u03b9\u03c2 seems characteristic of the Argive host in the\nB\u0153otian legend. SOPHOCLES, in the beautiful opening Chorus of the\n_Antigone_, and EURIPIDES in the _Ph\u0153niss\u00e6_, has it. Such traits\nwere of course adopted by the tragedians from the old local legends\nalways with conscientious fidelity. STAN. refers it to the general\nwhite or shining aspect of the shields of the common soldiers,\ndistinguished by no various-coloured blazonry; which may be the true\nexplanation.\n\n\n Note 8 (p. 265).\n \"With chaplet and stole.\"\n\nIn modern times, the mightiest monarchs have not thought it beneath\ntheir dignity to present, and sometimes, even, to work a petticoat\nto the Virgin Mary. In ancient times, the presentation of a \u03c0\u03ad\u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2\nto the maiden goddess of Athens was no less famous--\n\n  \"Take the largest and the finest robe that in thy chamber lies--\n  Take the robe to thee so dear, and place it duly on the knees\n  Of the beautiful-haired Athena.\"--IL. VI. 273.\n\n{418}\n\nVIRGIL has not forgotten this--_\u00c6neid_ I. 480. The _peplos_ was a large\nupper dress, often reaching to the feet. YATES, in the _Dict. Antiq._,\ntranslates it \"shawl,\" which may be the most accurate word, but, from\nits modern associations, of course, unsuitable for poetry.--See the\narticle.\n\n\n Note 9 (p. 265).\n \"O Ares, that shines in the helmet of gold.\"\n\nMars was one of the native \u1f72\u03c0\u03b9\u03c7\u03ce\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 gods of Thebes, as the old legend\nof the dragon and the sown-teeth sufficiently testifies. The dragon\nwas the offspring of Mars; and the fountain which it guarded, when it\nwas slain by the Ph\u0153nician wanderer, was sacred to that god.\nAPOLLODOR. III. 4; UNGER. _de fonte Aret_. p. 103.\n\n\n Note 10 (p. 266)\n \"And their steeds with ringing bridles.\"\n\nBells were often used on the harness of horses, and on different parts\nof the armour, to increase the war-alarm--the \u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b3\u03b3\u03ae \u03c4\u03b5 \u1f10\u03bd\u03bf\u03c0\u03ae \u03c4\u03b5 (Il.\nIII. 2), which is so essential a part of the instinct of assault. See\nthe description of Tydeus below, and Dict. Antiq. _tintinnabulum_,\nwhere is represented a fragment of ancient sculpture, showing the\nmanner in which bells were attached to the collars of war-horses. Dio\nCassius (Lib. LXXVI. 12) mentions that \"the arms of the Britons are a\nshield and short spear, in the upper part whereof is an apple of\nbrass, which, being shaken, terrifies the enemy with the sound.\"\nCompare \u03ba\u03c9\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd\u03bf, \u03c6\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c0\u03c9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2. _Aristoph. Ran._ 963.\n\n\n Note 11 (p. 266).\n \"God of pawing steeds, Poseidon.\"\n\nNeptune is called equestrian or \u1f31\u03c0\u03c0\u03af\u03bf\u03c2, no doubt, from the analogy of\nthe swift waves, over which his car rides, to the fleet ambling of\nhorses. In the mythical contest with Pallas, accordingly, while the\nAthenian maid produces the olive tree, the god of waves sends forth a\nwar-horse.\n\n\n Note 12 (p. 266).\n \"Save us, Cypris, mother of Thebans.\"\n\n\"Harmonia, whom Cadmus married, was the daughter of Mars and\nAphrodite.\"--SCHOLIAST.\n\n\n Note 13 (p. 266).\n \"Save us, save us, Wolf-Apollo.\"\n\nHere is one of those pious puns upon the epithets of the gods, which\nwere alluded to in Note 1 above. With regard to this epithet of Apollo,\nwho, in the Electra of SOPHOCLES, v. 6, is called distinctly\n_wolf-slayer_ (\u03bb\u03c5\u03ba\u03bf\u03ba\u03c4\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2), there seems to me little doubt that the\nScholiast on that passage is right in referring this function to\nApollo, as the god of a pastoral people (\u03bd\u1f78\u03bc\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2). PASSOW (_Dict. in\nvoce_), compare _Pausan_. (Cor. II. 19).\n\n\n Note 14 (p. 267).\n \"O Onca, blest Onca.\"\n\nOnca, says the Scholiast, was a name of Athena, a Ph\u0153nician epithet,\nbrought by Cadmus from his native country. The Oncan gate was the same\nas the Ogygian gate of Thebes mentioned by other writers, and the most\nancient of all the seven.--UNGER. p. 267; Pausan. IX. 8.\n\n\n Note 15 (p. 267).\n \"The seven-gated city deliver, deliver.\"\n\nThe current traditional epithet of Thebes, whose seven gates were as\nfamous as the seven mouths of the Nile--\n\n{419}\n\n  \"Rari quippe boni: numerus vix est totidem quot\n  Thebarum port\u00e6 vel divitis ostia Nili.\"--JUV. Sat. XIII. 26.\n\nAnd _Homer_, in the Odyssey XI. 263, talks of--\n\n                                             \"Amphion and Zethus,\n  First who founded and uptowered the seat of seven-gated Thebes.\"\n\nThese may suffice from a whole host of citations in UNGER. Vol. I.\np. 254-6, and Pausan. IX. 8. 3.\n\n\n Note 16 (p. 267).\n \". . . a foreign-speaking foe!\"\n\nThis appears strange, as both besieged and besiegers were Greeks,\ndiffering no more in dialect than the Prussians and the Austrians, or\nwe Scotch from our English neighbours. I agree with E. P. that it\nis better not to be over-curious in such matters, and that Butler is\nright when he says that \u1f10\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03cc\u03c6\u03c9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 is only _paullo gravius dictum ad\nmiserationem_--that is, only a little tragic exaggeration for\n_hostile_ or _foreign_.\n\n\n Note 17 (p. 268).\n \". . . the painted gods upon the prow.\"\n\nThe general practice was, that the tutelary gods were on the poop, and\nonly the figure-head on the prow (Dict. Antiq., _Ships_ and _Insigne_),\nbut, as there was nothing to prevent the figure-head being itself a\ngod, the case alluded to by \u00c6schylus might often occur.--See the long\nnote in STAN.\n\n\n Note 18 (p 268).\n                                   \"Who knows not\n That, when a city falls, they pass to the Victor\"\n\nThe Roman custom of evoking the gods of a conquered city to come out\nof the subject shrines, and take up their dwelling with the conqueror,\nis well known. In LIVY, V. 21, there is a remarkable instance of\nthis in the case of Veii--\"Tuo ductu,\" says CAMILLUS, \"Pythice\nApollo, tuoque numine instinctus pergo ad delendam urbem Veios:\ntibique hinc decumam partem pr\u00e6d\u00e6 voveo. Te simul, JUNO REGINA, qu\u00e6\nnunc Veios colis, precor ut nos victores in nostram tuamque mox\nfuturam urbem sequare; ubi te dignum amplitudine tua templum\naccipiat.\"\n\n\n Note 19 (p. 269).\n \"For blood of mortals is the common food.\"\n\nI read \u03c6\u03cc\u03bd\u1ff3, not \u03c6\u03cc\u03b2\u1ff3, principally for the sake of the sentiment, as\nthe other idea which \u03c6\u03bf\u03b2\u1ff3 gives, has been already expressed. Certainly\nWELL. is too positive in saying that \u03c6\u03cc\u03b2\u1ff3 is \"_prorsus necessarium_.\"\nBoth readings give an equally appropriate sense: that in the text,\nwhich POT. also gives; or this other--\n\n  \"Your fear but heaps the fuel of hot war\n  I' the hearts o' the foe.\"\n\n\n Note 20 (p. 270).\n \"Dirce and Ismenus' sacred stream.\"\n\nThese were waters in Theban legend no less famous than INACHUS and\nERASINUS in that of Argos. The waters of Dirce, in particular, were\nfamous for their clearness and pleasantness to drink. \"Dirce, flowing\nwith a pure and sweet stream,\" says AELIAN, _Var. Hist._ XII. 57,\nquoted by UNGER. p. 187, and \u00c6schylus in the Chorus immediately\nfollowing, equals its praise to that of the Nile, sung so magnificently\nin the Suppliants.\"\n\n{420}\n\n\n Note 21 (p. 271).\n \"From Poseidon earth-embracing,\n And from Tethys' winding sons.\"\n\n\u0393\u03b1\u03b9\u03ae\u03bf\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2--the \"_Earth-holder_\" or \"_Earth-embracer_,\" is a designation\nof Poseidon, stamped to the Greek ear with the familiar authority of\nHomer. According to Hesiod, and the Greek mythology generally, the\nfountains were the sons of Ocean either directly or indirectly,\nthrough the rivers, who owned the same fatherhood. Tethys is the\nprimeval Amphitrite.--See Note 13 to Prometheus, p. 390 above.\n\n\n Note 22 (p. 273).\n \". . . at the Pr\u0153tian portal Tydeus stands.\"\n\n\"A gate of doubtful parentage, from which the road went out from Thebes\ndirect to Chalcis in Eub\u0153a.\"--UNGER. p. 297. \"Here, by the wayside,\nwas the tomb of Melanippus, the champion of this gate, who slew his\nadversary Tydeus.\"--PAUSAN. IX. 8. This Tydeus is the father of\nDiomedes, whose exploits against men and gods are so nobly sung in Iliad\nV. From the frequency of the words \u03b2\u03bf\u1fb6\u03bd, \u03b2\u03bf\u1f74\u03bd, \u03b2\u03c1\u03ad\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd, etc. in this\nfine description, one might almost think that \u00c6schylus had wished to\npaint the father after the Homeric likeness of the son, who, like\nMenelaus, was \u03b2\u03bf\u1f74\u03bd \u1f00\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u03cc\u03c2. In the heroic ages, a pair of brazen lungs\nwas not the least useful accomplishment of a warrior. The great fame of\nthe father of Diomedes as a warrior appears strikingly from that passage\nof the Iliad (IV. 370), where Agamemnon uses it as a strong goad to\nprick the valorous purpose of the son.\n\n\n Note 23 (p. 273).\n \". . . the wise Oiclidan seer.\"\n\n\"Amphiaraus, the son of Oicles, being a prophet, and foreseeing that all\nwho should join in the expedition against Thebes would perish, refused\nto go himself, and dissuaded others. Polynices, however, coming to\nIphis, the son of Alector, inquired how Amphiaraus might be forced to\njoin the expedition, and was told that this would take place if his wife\nEriphyle should obtain the necklace of Harmonia. This, accordingly,\nPolynices gave her, she receiving the gift in the face of an interdict\nin that matter laid on her by her husband. Induced by this bribe, she\npersuaded her husband to march against his will, he having beforehand\npromised to refer any matter in dispute between him and Adrastus to the\ndecision of his wife.--APOLLODOR. III. 6; Confr. Hor. III. 16, 11.\n\n\n Note 24 (p. 273).\n \"The brazen bells ring fear.\"\n\nA Scottish knight, in an old ballad, has these warlike bells on his\nhorse's mane--\n\n  \"At ilk tail o' his horse's mane,\n   There hung a siller bell:\n  The wind was loud, the steed was proud,\n   And they gied a sindry knell.\"--YOUNG WATERS.\n\nAnd one of SOUTHEY's Mexican heroes has them on his helmet--\n\n                               \"Bells of gold\n  Embossed his glittering helmet, and where'er\n  Their sound was heard, there lay the press of war,\n  And Death was busiest there.\"--MADOC. II. 18.\n\n\n Note 25 (p. 274).\n \"His race from those whom Ares spared he draws.\"\n\nThat is to say, he belonged to one of the oldest originally Theban\nfamilies--was one of the children of the soil, sprung from the teeth of\nthe {421} old Theban dragon, which Cadmus, by the advice of Athena,\nsowed in the Earth; and from that act, the old race of Thebans were\ncalled \u03c3\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03c4\u03cc\u03b9, or the _Sown_. See STAN.'s note.\n\n\n Note 26 (p. 274).\n \"Proud Capaneus before the Electran gate.\"\n\nThis gate was so called from Electra, the sister of Cadmus. _Pausan_.\nIX. 8-3. And was the gate which led to Plat\u00e6a and Athens. _Unger_. p.\n274.\n\n\n Note 27 (p. 275).\n    \". . . The third lot to Eteocles\n Leapt from the upturned brazen helm.\"\n\nThe custom of using the helmet, for the _situla_ or urn, when lots were\ntaken in war, must have been noted by the most superficial student of\nHomer. STAN. has collected many instances, of which one may suffice--\n\n  \"Quickly, in the brazen helm, we shake the lot; and first of all,\n  Of Eurylochus, mighty-hearted, leapt the lot.\"--ODYSSEY X. 206.\n\n\n Note 28 (p. 275).\n \"At the Netaean gate.\"\n\nSo called from Neis, a son of Zethus, the brother of Amphion. _Pausan_.\nIX. 8; _Unger_. p. 313.\n\n\n Note 29 (p. 276).\n \"Black smoke, the volumed sister of the flame.\"\n\nJust as Homer, in a familiar passage, calls \"sleep the mother of death\"\n(Il. XIV. 231), adopted by SHELLEY in the exquisite exordium of Queen\nMab--\n\n  \"How beautiful is Death,\n  Death and his brother Sleep!\"\n\nMITCHELL, in a note on the metaphors of \u00c6schylus (Aristoph. Ran. 871),\nmentions this as being one of those tropes, where the high-vaulting\ntragedian has jerked himself over from the sublime into the\nclosely-bordering territory of the ridiculous; but neither here nor in\n\u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03b4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u1fb6\u03bd (\u03bf)\u03bc\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2, which he quarrels with, is there anything\noffensive to the laws of good taste. It sounds, indeed, a little queer\nto translate literally, _Rapine near akin to running hither and\nthither_; but, as a matter of plain fact, it is true that, when in the\nconfusion of the taking of a city, men run hither and thither, rapine\nis the result. In my version, _Plunder, daughter of Confusion_ (p. 272\nabove), expresses the idea intelligibly enough, I hope, to an English\near.\n\n\n Note 30 (p. 276).\n \"Round its hollow belly was embossed\n A ring of knotted snakes.\"\n\nThe old Argolic shield, round as the sun--\n\n  \"Argolici clypei aut Ph\u0153b\u00e6\u0153 lampadis instar.\"\n\nSee Dict. Antiq. _Clypeus_. The kind described in the text finds its\nmodern counterpart in those hollow Burmese shields often found in our\nmuseums, only larger.\n\n\n Note 31 (p. 276).\n \". . . by the god of war\n Indwelt.\"\n\n\u1f14\u03bd\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b4\u1fbd \u0391\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9, literally, \"ingodded by Mars,\" or having the god of\nwar dwelling in him. This phrase shows the meaning of that reproach\ncast by the Pharisees in the teeth of Christ--\u1f14\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd--_he hath\na devil_, or, as the Greeks would have said, _a god--i.e._ he is\npossessed by a moral power {422} so far removed from the common, that\nwe must attribute it to the indwelling might of a god or devil.\n\n\n Note 32 (p. 276).\n  \". . . a hostile pair\n Well matched by Hermes.\"\n\nThe Greeks ascribed to Hermes every thing that they met with on the\nroad, and every thing accidentally found, and whatever happens by\nchance--and so two adversaries well matched in battle were said to have\nbeen brought together by the happy contrivance of that god.\"--SCHOL.;\nand see Note 59 to the Eumenides, p. 386.\n\n\n Note 33 (p. 278).\n \"The sixth a sober man, a seer of might,\n Before the Homoloidian gate stands forth.\"\n\n_i.e._ AMPHIARAUS--see above, Note 23, p. 420. Homer (Odys. XV. 244)\nspeaks of him as beloved by Jove and Apollo. The Homoloidian gates\nwere so called either from mount Homole in Thessaly (Pausan. IX. 8),\nor from Homolois, a daughter of Niobe and Amphion.--UNGER. p. 324.\n\n\n Note 34 (p. 278).\n  \"With bitter taunts his evil-omened name,\n Making it spell his ugly sin that owns it.\"\n\nThe name Polynices means literally _much strife_; and there can be no\nquestion that the prophet in this place is described as taunting the Son\nof Oedipus with the evil omen of his name after the fashion so familiar\nwith the Greek writers. See _Prometheus_, Note 8, p. 388. The text,\nhowever, is in more places than one extremely corrupt; and, in present\ncircumstances, I quite agree with WELL. and LIN. that we are not\nwarranted in introducing the conjectural reading of \u1f44\u03bc\u03bc\u03b1 for \u1f44\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1,\nthough there can be no question that the reading \u1f44\u03bc\u03bc\u03b1 admits of a\nsufficiently appropriate sense.--See DUNBAR, _Class. Museum_, No.\nXII. p. 206.\n\n\n Note 35 (p. 278).\n \"The wise man is what fools but seem to be.\"\n\n\"When this tragedy was first acted, ARISTIDES, surnamed the JUST,\nwas present. At the declamation of these words--\n\n  \u1f40\u03c5 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03bd \u1f04\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1fbd (\u1f10)\u03af\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b8\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9,\n\nthe whole audience, by an instantaneous instinct, directed their eyes\nto him.\"--PLUTARCH, _Apoth. Reg. et duc._ SALLUST describes Cato\nin the same language--\"_Esse quam videri bonus malebat._\"--STAN.\n\n\n Note 36 (p. 280).\n \"O god-detested! god-bemadded race!\"\n\nIn modern theological language we are not accustomed to impute mental\ninfatuation, insanity, or desperate impulses of any kind to the\nSupreme Being; but in the olden time such language as that of the text\nwas familiarly in the mouth of Jew and Gentile. \"_The Lord hardened\nPharaoh's heart_,\" is a sentence which we all remember, perhaps with\na strange sensation of mysterious terror, from our juvenile lessons;\nand \"_quos Deus vult perdere prius dementat_,\" is a common maxim in\nour mouths, though we scarcely half believe it. In Homer and the\ntragedians instances of this kind occur everywhere; and in the\nPersians of our author the gods are addressed in a style of the most\nunmitigated accusation. In such cases, modern translators are often\ninclined {423} to soften down the apparent impiety of the expression\ninto some polite modern generality; but I have scrupulously retained\nthe original phraseology. I leave it to the intelligent reader to work\nout the philosophy of this matter for himself.\n\n\n Note 37 (p. 281).\n \". . . the god will have it so.\"\n\nThis is one of the cases so frequent in the ancient poets (Note 76 to\nChoephor\u00e6, p. 372) where \u03b8\u03b5\u03cc\u03c2 is used in the singular without the\narticle. In the present case the translators seem agreed in supplying\nthe definite particle, as Ph\u0153bus, mentioned in the next line, may\nnaturally be understood. In modern language, where a man is urged on to\nhis destruction by a violent unreasoning passion, reference is generally\nmade to an overruling decree or destiny, rather than directly to the\nauthor of all destiny. \"But my ill-fate pushed me on with an obstinacy\nthat nothing could resist; and, though I had several times loud calls\nfrom my reason and my more composed judgment to go home, yet I had no\npower to do it. _I know not what to call this, nor will I urge that it\nis a secret overruling decree that hurries us on to be the instruments\nof our own destruction, even though it be before us, and that we rush\nupon as with our eyes open_. Certainly nothing but some such decreed\nunavoidable misery attending, and which it was impossible for me to\nescape, could have pushed me forward against the calm reasonings and\npersuasions of my most retired thoughts.\"--_Robinson Crusoe_. On this\nsubject see my _Homeric Theology_. _Class. Mus._ No. XXVI. Propositions\n5, 12, and 18 compared.\n\n\n Note 38 (p. 281).\n \"Death is thy only gain, and death to-day\n Is better than to-morrow!\"\n\n\u03bb\u03ad\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03ba\u03ad\u03c1\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u1f51\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bc\u03cc\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5--_mentioning to me an advantage_\n(viz., in my dying now) _preferable to a death at a later period;_ as\nhis good genius might have whispered to Napoleon Bonaparte at\nWaterloo. In translating thus a confessedly difficult passage I have\nWELCKER (Trilog. 363), BUTLER, BLOM., and SCH\u00dcTZ., and E. P.\nOxon., on my side, also the simple comment of Scholiast II.--\u03ba\u03b5\u03c1\u03b4(\u03bf)\u03c2,\n_i.e._ \u03c4\u1f78 \u03bd\u1fe6\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5\u03b8\u03bd\u1fb6\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, _i.e._ \u03c4\u03b9\u03bc\u03b9\u03ce\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd. LIN. agreeing with\nWELL. translates \"urging the glory of the victory which precedes the\ndeath which follows after it.\" CONZ. is singular, and certainly not\nto be imitated in translating with Schol. I.--\n\n          \"_Wer der erste t\u00f6dlet gewinnt den Sieg._\"\n  \"He who inflicts the first lethal blow gains the victory.\"\n\nPOT. has not grappled with the passage. If LIN.'s interpretation be\npreferred, I should render--\n\n                                \"Beside me sits\n  The Fury with dry tearless eye, and points to\n  One glimpse of glory heralding black death.\"\n\nor--\n\n  \"The glorious gain that shall precede the death.\"\n\nIt will be observed that if \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd be taken in the sense of\n\u03c4\u03b9\u03bc\u03b9\u03ce\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, with the Scholiast, and \u03c4\u03bf \u03bd\u1fe6\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5\u03b8\u03bd\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 understood to\n\u03ba\u03ad\u03c1\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2, Wellauer's objection falls that \u03bc\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd or \u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03b6\u03bf\u03bd must be\nunderstood to render the rendering in my text admissible.\n\n\n Note 39 (p. 282).\n \". . . goddess most ungodlike.\"\n\nI have remarked, in a Note above, that the Greeks, so far from having\nany objection to the idea that the gods were the authors of evil, rather\n{424} encouraged it; and accordingly, in their theology, they had no\nneed for a devil or devils in any shape. This truth, however, must be\nreceived with the qualification, arising from the general preponderating\ncharacter of the Greek deities, which was unquestionably benign, and\ncoloured more from the sunshine than the cloud; in reference to which\ngeneral character, it might well be said that certain deities, whose\nfunction was purely to induce misery, were \u1f40\u03c5 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f45\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9--_nothing\nlike the gods_.\n\n\n Note 40 (p. 282).\n \"O son of Scythia, must we ask thine aid?\n Chalybian stranger thine.\"\n\nWe see here how loosely the ancients used Certain geographical terms,\nand especially this word SCYTHIA; for the CHALYBES or CHALDAEI, as\nthey were afterwards called, were a people of PONTUS. Their country\nproduced, in the most ancient times, silver also; but, in the days of\nStrabo, iron only.--STRABO, Lib. XII. p. 549.\n\n\n Note. 41 (p. 284).\n \". . . for sorry tendance wrathful.\"\n\nI read \u1f10\u03c0\u03af\u03ba\u03bf\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u1fb6\u03c2 with HEATH., BLOM., and PAL. For the\ncommon reading, \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03ba\u03cc\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03ac\u03c2, WELL., with his usual conservative\ningenuity, finds a sort of meaning; but the change which the new\nreading requires is very slight, and gives a much more obvious sense;\nbesides that it enables us to understand the allusion to \u00c6schylus in\nSchol. Oedip. Col. 1375.--See Introductory Remarks, WELCKER's\n_Trilogie_, p. 358, and PAL.'s Note.\n\n\n Note 42 (p. 284).\n \". . . (for still in four and three\n The god delights).\"\n\nThese words are a sort of comment on the epithet \u1f11\u03b2\u03b4\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b3\u03ad\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 given to\nApollo in the text, of which PAPE, in his Dictionary, gives the\nfollowing account: \"Surname of Apollo, because sacrifice was offered to\nhim on the seventh day of every month, or as LOBECK says (Aglaoph. p.\n434), because seven boys and seven girls led the procession at his\nfeasts.--Herod. VI. 57. The ancients were not agreed in the\ninterpretation of this epithet.\" It is not _necessary_, however, I must\nadmit with SCHNEIDER, to suppose any reference to this religious\narithmetic here. Ph\u0153bus receives the seventh gate, because, as the\nprophet of the doom, it was his special business to see it fulfilled;\nand this he could do only there, where the devoted heads of Eteocles and\nPolynices stood.\n\n\n Note 43 (P. 285).\n \"And I for plaints no less than p\u00e6ans bring thee.\"\n\nI see no sufficient case made out for giving these words from \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u1fb6\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1\ndown to \u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 to the Chorus. The Messenger, surely, may be allowed\nhis moral reflections without stint in the first place, as the Chorus\nis to enlarge on the same theme in the chaunt which immediately\nfollows. It strikes me also, that the tone of the passage is not\nsufficiently passionate for the Chorus.\n\n\n Note 44 (p. 289).\n \"Ay, drenched in gore, in brothered gore.\"\n\nIn the old editions, and in POT. and GLASG. these words are given to\nIsmene; but never was a scenic change made with greater propriety than\nthat of BRUNCK, when he continued these speeches down to the end of\nAntistrophe IV. to the Chorus. Nothing could be more unnatural than that\nthe {425} afflicted sisters, under such a load of woe, should open their\nmouths with long speeches--long, assuredly, in comparison of what they\nafterwards say. They are properly silent, till the Chorus has finished\nthe wail; and then they speak only in short exclamations--articulated\nsobs--nothing more. For the same reason, deserting WELL., I have given\nthe repeated burden \u1f38\u1f7c \u039c\u03bf\u03b9\u03c1\u03b1, etc. to the Chorus. The principal mourners\nin this dirge should sing only in short and broken cries.\n\n\n Note 45 (p. 290).\n \"Moera, baneful gifts dispensing.\"\n\nThe word \u03bc\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b1 originally means _lot, portion, part, that which is\ndealt or divided out to one_. In this sense it occurs frequently in\nHomer, and is there regarded as proceeding from the gods, and specially\nfrom Jove. But with an inconsistency natural enough in popular poetry,\nwe sometimes find \u03bc\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b1 in Homer, like \u1f00\u03c4\u03b7, elevated to the rank of a\nseparate divine personage. \"Not I,\" says Agamemnon, in the Iliad (XIX.\n86), \"was to blame for the quarrel with Achilles,\n\n  _But_ JOVE _and_ MOERA _and the_ FURY, _walking through the darkness\n    dread_.\"\n\nThe three Fates, CLOTHO, LACHESIS, and ATROPOS, like the three\nFURIES, were a post-Homeric birth. We thus see how, under the\ninfluence of the Polytheistic system, new gods were continually created\nfrom what were originally mere functions of the divine mind, or results\nof the divine activity.\n\n\n Note 46 (p. 292).\n \"Due burial in its friendly bosom.\"\n\n\u03b8\u03ac\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u1f14\u03b4\u03bf\u03be\u03b5 \u03b3\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03c6\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2. The words here used seem to imply\ninterment in the modern fashion, without burning, but they may also\nrefer to the depositing of the urns in subterranean chambers. Ancient\nremains, as well as the testimony of classical authors, prove that both\npractices existed among the ancients, though cremation was latterly the\nmore common. The reader will be instructed by the following extract on\nthis subject from Dr. Smith's admirable Dictionary of Antiquities,\narticle _Funus_: \"The body was either buried or burnt. Lucian, _de\nluctu_, says that the Greeks burn, and the Persians bury, their dead;\nbut modern writers are greatly divided in opinion as to which was the\nusual practice. Wachsmuth (_Hell. Alt._ II. 2, p. 79) says that, in\nhistorical times, the dead were always buried; but this statement is not\nstrictly correct. Thus we find that Socrates (Plut. Ph\u00e6don) speaks of\nhis body being either burnt or buried; the body of Timoleon was burnt;\nand so was that of Philop\u00e6mon (Plutarch). The word \u03b8\u03ac\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd is used in\nconnection with either mode; it is applied to the collection of the\nashes after burning; and accordingly we find the words \u03ba\u03ac\u03b9\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd and\n\u03b8\u03ac\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd used together (Dionys. Arch\u00e6olog. Rom. V. 48). The proper\nexpression for interment in the earth is \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03cd\u03c4\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd; whereas we find\nSocrates speaking of \u03c4\u03bf \u03c3\u1ff6\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, \u1f20 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03c5\u03c4\u03c4\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd. In Homer,\nthe bodies of the dead are burnt; but interment was also used in very\nancient times. Cicero (_de leg._ II. 25) says that the dead were buried\nat Athens in the time of Cecrops; and we also read of the bones of\nOrestes being found in a coffin at Tegea (Herod. I. 68). The dead were\ncommonly buried among the Spartans (Plut. Lycurg. 27) and the Sicyonians\n(Paus. II. 7); and the prevalence of this practice is proved by the\ngreat number of skeletons found in coffins in modern times, which have\nevidently not been exposed to the action of fire. Both burning and\nburying appear to have been always used, to a greater or less extent, at\ndifferent periods; till the spread of Christianity at length put an end\nto the former practice.\"\n\n{426}\n\n\n Note 47 (p. 293).\n \"Mighty Furies that triumphant\n Ride on ruin's baleful wings.\"\n\nI have here, by a paraphrase, endeavoured to express the remarkably\npregnant expression of the original \u03ba\u1fc6\u03c1\u03b5\u03c2 \u0395\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd\u03bd\u03cd\u03b5\u03c2--combining, as it\ndoes, in grammatical apposition, two terrible divine powers, that the\nancient poets generally keep separate. The \u03ba\u1fc6\u03c1\u03b5\u03c2, or goddesses of\ndestruction and violent death, occur frequently in Homer. Strictly\nspeaking, they represent only one of the methods by which the\nretributive Furies may operate; but, in a loose way of talking, they\nare sometimes identified with them. Schoemann, in a note to the\nEumenides, p. 62, has quoted to this effect, Hesiod v. 217, and Eurip.\nElect, v. 1252:--\n\n  \"The terrible Ker\u00e9s, blushless persecutors,\n  Will chase thee wandering frenzied o'er the earth.\"\n\n\n\nNOTES TO THE PERSIANS\n\n{427}\n\n Note 1 (p. 301).\n \"Forth they went with arrow and bow.\"\n\nThe bow was as characteristic of Persian as the spear of Hellenic\nwarfare; and, accordingly, they are contrasted below, p. 305. The\nPersian Darics bore the figure of an archer. DICT. ANTIQ _voci_\nDARIC. \"The army of Xerxes, generally,\" says GROTE, \"was armed with\nmissile weapons, and light shields, or no shield at all; not properly\nequipped either for fighting in regular order, or for resisting the line\nof spears and shields which the Grecian heavy-armed infantry brought to\nbear upon them.\"--Vol. V. p. 43. This was seen with striking evidence\nwhen an engagement took place on confined ground as at Thermopyl\u00e6, Do.\np. 117.\n\n\n Note 2 (p. 302).\n \". . . golden Sardes.\"\n\nSo Creon, in the Antigone of Sophocles, in wrathful suspicion that\nTiresias is in conspiracy to prophesy against him for filthy lucre,\nis made to exclaim (v. 1037)--\n\n                     \"Traffic as ye will\n  In the amber-ore that opulent Sardes sends,\n  And Indian gold.\"\n\nSo also, \"golden Babylon,\" below; which will recall to the Christian\nreader the famous words, \"Thou shalt take up this proverb against the\nking of Babylon, and say, How hath the oppressor ceased, the golden city\nceased!\"--Isaiah xiv. 4. In the same way XERXES is called \"the\ngod-like son of a golden race,\" in the choral hymn which immediately\nfollows the present introductory chaunt. SOUTHEY, the most learned of\nour poets, has not forgotten this orientalism when he says--\n\n  \"Hark! at the golden palaces\n  The Brahmin strikes the hour.\"\n            --CURSE OF KEHAMA V.\n\nwhere see the note.\n\n\n Note 3 (p. 302).\n \"The well-poised dart.\"\n\nThe Mysians had on their heads a peculiar sort of helmet belonging to\nthe country, small shields, and javelins burnt at the point.--HERODOT.\nVII. 74.--STAN.\n\n\n Note 4 (p. 302).\n \"The Asian tribes that wear the sword.\"\n\nThe \u03bc\u03ac\u03c7\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b1 here is the _acinaces_, or short scimitar, of which the\nfashion may be seen in the _Dict. Antiq._ under that word.\n\n\n Note 5 (p. 303).\n \"Shepherd of many sheep.\"\n\nA phraseology inherited from the times when \"Mesha, king of Moab, was a\n_sheepmaster_, and rendered unto the king of Israel 100,000 lambs, and\n100,000 rams, with the wool.\"--2 Kings iii. 4. So Agamemnon, in Homer\n(Od. III. 156), is called \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bc\u03ae\u03bd \u03bb\u03ac\u03c9\u03bd--the shepherd of the people. See\nabove, p. 413, Note 48.\n\n{428}\n\n\n Note 6 (p. 304).\n \"But, when the gods deceive.\"\n\nThe sudden change of tone here from unlimited confidence in the strength\nof their own armament, to a pious doubt arising from the consideration\nthat the gods often disappoint \"the best laid schemes of men and mice,\"\nand that \"the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the\nstrong\"; this is at once extremely characteristic of ancient Hellenic\npiety (see the Note on \u1f55\u03b2\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2, p. 348), and serves here the dramatic\npurpose of making the over-weening pride of Xerxes, by contrast, appear\nmore sinful. With regard to the style of religious conception here, and\nthe general doctrine that the gods deceive mortal men, especially at\nmoments of extraordinary prosperity and on the point of some sudden\nreversal, the student will read GROTE's Greece, Vol. V. p. 13.\n\n\n Note 7 (p. 306).\n \"Let us fall down before her with humble prostration.\"\n\nThis very humble way of expressing respect was quite oriental, and\naltogether abhorrent to the feelings of the erect Greek, boasting of his\nliberty. The reader of history may call to mind how this was one of the\npoints of oriental court state, the mooting of which in his later years\ncaused a breach between Alexander the Great and his captains. For\nreferences, see STAN.\n\n\n Note 8 (p. 307).\n \"And dipped my hands in the fair-flowing fount.\"\n\nThis purification, as STAN. has noted, was customary among the\nancients, after an ill-omened dream. He quotes ARISTOPHANES, Ran.\n1338.\n\n  \"But come, attendants, light a lamp\n  And take a pail, and from the stream\n  Water bring, and warm it well,\n  To wash away the god-sent dream\"--\n\nand other passages.\n\n\n Note 9 (p. 307).\n \"I saw an eagle flying to the altar.\"\n\nThe sight in reality, or in vision, of one bird plucking another under\nvarious modifications, was familiar to the ancient divination, as the\nnatural expression of conquest and subjugation. So in the Odyssey\nshortly before the opening of the catastrophe--\n\n  \"Thus as he spake, on his right hand a bird of omen flew,\n  A hawk, Apollo's messenger swift, and held within its claws\n  A pigeon, which it rudely plucked, and scattered on the ground\n  Its feathery plumes, between the skies and where Telemachus\n    stood.\"--XV. 525.\n\nIn such matters, the ancients did not strain after originality, as a\nmodern would do, but held closely by the most natural, obvious, and\nmost significant types.\n\n\n Note 10 (p. 308).\n \"Where, O friends, is famous Athens on the broad face of the earth?\"\n\nHere commences a series of questions with regard to Attic geography,\ntopography, and statistics, which to the most inexperienced reader will\nappear to come in here not in the most natural way. That the mother of\nXerxes should have actually been so ignorant of the state of Athens, as\nshe is here dramatically represented, seems scarcely supposable. But\nthat she {429} and the mighty persons of the East generally were grossly\nignorant of, and greatly underrated the resources of the small state\nthat was rising in the West, is plain, both from the general habit of\nthe oriental mind, and from what Herodotus (V. 105, quoted by PAL.)\nnarrates of Darius, that, when he heard of the burning of Sardes by the\nAthenians and the Ionians, he asked \"_who the Athenians were_.\" On this\nfoundation, a dramatic poet, willing \"to pay a pleasant compliment to\nAthenian vanity\" (BUCK.), might well erect such a series of\ninterrogatories as we have in the text, though it may be doubted whether\nhe has done it with that tact which a more perfect master of the\ndramatic art--Shakespere, for instance--would have displayed. There are\nnot a few other passages in the Greek drama where this formal style of\nquestioning _ab ovo_ assumes somewhat of a ludicrous aspect.\n\n\n Note 11 (p. 309).\n \"Slaves are they to no man living, subject to no earthly name.\"\n\nAs in the quickness of their spirits, the sharpness of their wits, and\ntheir love of glory, so particularly in the forward boast of freedom,\nthe ancient Hellenes were very like the modern French. 'Twere a curious\nparallel to carry out; and that other one also, which would prove even\nmore fertile in curious results, between the ancient Romans and the\nmodern English.\n\n\n Note 12 (p. 310).\n \"The sundered planks, and the drifted dead.\"\n\nI do not think there can be any doubt as to the meaning of the original\nhere, \u03c0\u03bb\u03b1\u03b3\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 (\u03b5)\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03c0\u03bb\u03ac\u03ba\u03b5\u03c3\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd--_among the wandering planks_--\u03b4\u03af\u03c0\u03bb\u03b1\u03be\ncan mean nothing but a double or very strong plank, plate, or (if\napplied to a dress, as in HOMER) _fold_. There is no need of\nsupposing any \"clinging to the planks,\" as LIN., following BUTLER,\ndoes. Nevertheless, I have given, likewise, in my translation, the full\nforce of BLOM.'s idea that \u03b4\u03af\u03c0\u03bb\u03b1\u03be means the _ebb and flow of the\nsea_. This, indeed, lies already in \u03c6\u03ad\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9. CONZ. agrees with my\nversion. \"_Wie treiben st\u00fcrmend umher sie die Planken!_\"\n\n\n Note 13 (p. 311).\n \". . . There Amestris.\"\n\nPAL. asserts confidently that the three following verses are corrupt.\nOne of them sins against Porson's canon of the Cretic ending, and (what\nis of much more consequence) connects the name of Ariomardus with\nSardes, which we found above (p. 302), connected with Thebes. For the\nsake of consistency, I have taken PORSON's hint, and introduced\nMetragathus here, from v. 43.\n\n\n Note 14 (p. 312).\n \". . . Pallas saves her city.\"\n\nThe apportionment of the last clause of this, and the whole of the\nfollowing lines, I give according to WELL. and PAL., which BUCK.\nalso approves in his note. The translation, in such a case, is its own\nbest vindication.\n\n\n Note 15 (p. 312).\n \"There came a Greek.\"\n\nThe sending of this person was a device of Themistocles, to hasten on\na battle, and keep the Greeks from quarrelling amongst themselves. The\nperson sent was Sicinnus his slave, \"seemingly an Asiatic Greek, who\nunderstood Persian, and had perhaps been sold during the late Ionic\nrevolt, {430} but whose superior qualities are marked by the fact,\nthat he had the care and teaching of the children of his\nmaster.\"--GROTE.\n\n\n Note 16 (p. 312).\n \"And darkness filled the temple of the sky.\"\n\nThe word \u03c4\u03ad\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2, says Passow, in the post-Homeric writers of the\nclassical age was used almost exclusively in reference to sacred, or, as\nwe should say, consecrated property. I do not think, therefore, that\nLIN. does full justice to this word when he translates it merely \"the\n_region of the air_\"; as little can I be content with CONZ.'s\n\"_Hallen_.\" DROYSEN preserves the religious association to\nwell-instructed readers, by using the word _Hain_; but surely _temple_\nis better in the present connection and to a modern ear. Lucretius (Lib.\nI. near the end) has \"_Coeli tonitralia templa._\"\n\n\n Note 17 (p. 314).\n \". . . dance-loving Pan.\"\n\nPAN, \"the simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god\" (Wordsworth, Exc. IV.),\nwas in the mind of the Athenians intimately associated with the glory of\nthe Persian wars, and regarded as one of their chief patrons at Marathon\n(Herod. VI. 105). This god was the natural patron of all wild and\nsolitary places, such as are seldom disturbed by any human foot save\nthat of the Arcadian shepherds, whose imagination first produced this\nhalf-solemn half-freakish creation; and in this view no place could be\nmore appropriate to him than \"the barren and rocky Psyttaleia\"\n(STRABO, 395). That he was actually worshipped there, we have, besides\nthe present passage of our poet, the express testimony of Pausanias (I.\n36)--\"What are called Panic terrors were ascribed to Pan; for loud\nnoises whose cause could not be easily traced were not unfrequently\nheard in mountainous regions; and the gloom and loneliness of forests\nand mountains fill the mind with a secret horror, and dispose it to\nsuperstitious apprehensions.\"--KEIGHTLEY.\n\n\n Note 18 (p. 315).\n \". . . slowly with much hard toil.\"\n\nThe verse in the original--\n\n  \u0398\u03c1\u1fc4\u03ba\u03b7\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03ac\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03bc\u03cc\u03b3\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1ff7 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u1ff3\n\n--is remarkable for being divided into two equal halves, in violation of\nthe common c\u00e6suras, the laws of which Porson has pointed out so\ncuriously. Whether there was a special cause for this in the present\ncase--the wish, namely, on the part of the poet to make a harsh line\nsuit a harsh subject, I shall not assert, as the line does not fall\nparticularly harsh on my ear; I have at least done something, by the\nhelp of rough consonants and monosyllables, to make my English line come\nup to the great metrician's idea of the Greek.\n\n\n Note 19 (p. 317).\n \"By the mute sea-monsters riven.\"\n\nIt needs hardly be mentioned here that the restless state of the dead\nbody in death by drowning, implied, according to the sensuous\nmetaphysics of the vulgar Greeks, an equally restless condition of the\nsoul in Hades. Hence the point of Achilles' wrath against Lycaon, in\nIliad XXI. 122--\n\n  \"Go, and with the fishes lay thee; they shall lick thy bloody wound\n  With a greedy unconcern; thy mother shall not weep for thee\n  There, nor dew thy bier with sorrow; but Scamander's whirling flood\n  To the bosom deep shall bear thee of the broad and briny sea.\"\n\n{431}\n\nAnd, in the same book, of another victim of the same inexorable wrath\nit is said--\n\n  \"To the eels and to the fishes, occupation meet he gave,\n  As they gnawed his flesh, and nicely picked the fat from off his\n    bones.\"--v. 203.\n\n\n Note 20 (p. 318).\n \"Of the pale green olive, ever leafy-fair.\"\n\nI think it right so to translate, because such is actually the colour of\nthe olive; but I must state, at the same time, that the word in the\noriginal is \u03be\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u1fc6\u03c2, which has been imitated by Virgil, \u00c6n. V. 309. How\nthe same word should mean both _yellow_ and _green_, I cannot\nunderstand. No doubt the light green of many trees, when the leafage\nfirst comes out in spring, has a yellowish appearance; but the\never-green olive is always \u03b3\u03bb\u03b1\u03c5\u03ba\u03cc\u03c2, as Sophocles has it (O. C. 701).\nWhat we call _olive-coloured_ is a mixture of green and yellow; does\nthis come from the colour of the fruit or the oil?\n\n\n Note 21 (p. 318).\n \"The god Darius.\"\n\nThe word \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1 here used is that by which both Homer and \u00c6schylus\ndesignate the highest celestial beings, from which practice we see what\nan easy transition there was in the minds of the early Christians to\nthe deification of the martyrs, and the canonization of the saints.\nCompare \u00c6n. V. v. 47. There is nothing in Popery which is not seated\nin the deepest roots of human nature.\n\n\n Note 22 (p. 319).\n \"O A\u00efd\u00f3neus, thy charge release.\"\n\n_i.e._ Pluto. The reader must not be surprised to see \u00c6schylus putting\nthe names of Greek gods and Greek feelings and ideas generally into the\nmouths of Persian characters. His excuse lies partly in the fact, that\nthese divine powers and human feelings, though in a Greek form, belonged\nto the universal heart of man, and partly in the extreme nationality of\nthe old Hellenic culture, which was not apt to go abroad with curiously\ninquiring eyes into the regions of the barbarian. A national poet,\nmoreover, addressing the masses, must beware of being too learned.\nShakespere, in his foreign dramas, though less erudite, is much more\neffective than Southey in his Epics.\n\n\n Note 23 (p. 319).\n \"Come, dread lord!\"\n\nThe word in the original here is \u03b2\u03b1\u03bb\u1f74\u03bd, a Ph\u0153nician word, the same as\n_Baal_ and _Belus_, meaning _lord_.--See Gesenius, _voce Baal_. This\nroot appears significantly in some Carthaginian names, as HANNIBAL,\nHASDRUBAL, etc.\n\n\n Note 24 (p. 319).\n \"The disc of thy regal tiara showing.\"\n\nThis word belongs as characteristically to the ancient kings of the\nEast, in respect of their head-gear, as the _triregno_ or triple crown,\nin modern language, belongs to the Pope, and the iron crown to the\nsovereigns of Lombardy. Accordingly we find Virgil giving it to Priam--\n\n  \"Sceptrumque sacerque tiaras.\"--\u00c6NEID VII. 247.\n\nSee further, Dr. Smith's Dict. Antiq. _in voce tiara_, and also\n\u03c6\u03ac\u03bb\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, which I translate _disc_. As for the _sandals_, the reader\nwill observe that _saffron_ is a colour, like _purple_, peculiarly\nregal and luxurious--\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bb\u03af\u03b4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u03cc\u03b5\u03c3\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c4\u03c1\u03c5\u03c6\u1fb6\u03c2.--Eurip.\nPh\u0153niss. 1491.--_Matth_.\n\n{432}\n\n\n Note 25 (p. 320).\n \"Why should'st thou die, and leave the land,\n Thou master of the mighty hand?\n Why should thy son with foolish venture\n Shake thy sure Empire to its centre?\"\n\nHere I may say with BUCK., \"I have given the best sense I can to the\ntext, but nothing is here certain but the uncertainty of the reading.\"\nFor a translator, \u03b4\u03b9 \u1f04\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd, proposed by BLOM., is convenient enough.\n\n\n Note 26 (p. 320).\n \"Triremes no more?\"\n\n\u03bd\u03b1\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f04\u03bd\u03b1\u03b5\u03c2 (\u03b1)\u03bd\u03b1\u03b5\u03c2--A phraseology of which we have found many\ninstances, and of which the Greeks are very fond. So in Homer, before\nthe fight between Ulysses and Irus, one of the spectators foreseeing\nthe discomfiture of the latter, says--\n\n  \u1f28 \u03c4\u03ac\u03c7\u03b1 \u1fcf\u0399\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 (\u03b1)\u0399\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u03af\u03c3\u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd \u1f14\u03be\u03b5\u03b9\n  \u1f41\u03b9\u03b7\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba \u03c1\u03b1\u03ba\u03ad\u03c9\u03bd \u1f41 \u03b3\u03ad\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03af\u03b4\u03b1 \u03c6\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9.\n\n  \"Irus soon shall be no Irus, crushed by such dire weight of woes,\n  Self-incurred; beneath his tatters what a thigh the old man shows!\"\n\n\n Note 27 (p. 322).\n \"But when man to run is eager, swift is the god to add a spur.\"\n\nThis is sound morality and orthodox theology, even at the present hour.\n_Quos Deus vult perdere prius dementat_. Observe here how high \u00c6schylus\nrises in moral tone above Herodotus, who, in the style that offends us\nso much in Homer, represents Xerxes, after yielding to the sensible\nadvice of his father's counsellor Artabanus, as urged on to his ruin by\na god-sent vision thrice repeated (VII. 12-18). The whole expedition,\naccording to the historian, is as much a matter of divine planning as\nthe death of Hector by Athena's cruel deceit in Iliad XXII. 299. Even\nArtabanus is carried along by the stream of evil counsel, confessing\nthat \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03b7 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b3\u03af\u03bd\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f41\u03c1\u03bc\u1f74, _there is an impulse from the gods_ in\nthe matter which a man may not resist.--See GROTE.\n\n\n Note 28 (p. 323).\n \"Converse with the sons of folly taught thy eager son to err.\"\n\nThe original word for _eager_ here is the same as that translated above\n_impetuous_--\u03b8\u03bf\u03cd\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, and had a peculiar significancy to a Greek\near, as being that epithet by which Mars is constantly designated in the\nIliad; and this god, as the readers of that poem well know, signifies\nonly the wild, unreasoning hurricane power of battle, as distinguished\nfrom the calmly-calculated, surely-guided hostility of the wise Athena.\nWith regard to the matter of fact asserted in this line, it is literally\ntrue that the son of Darius was not of himself originally much inclined\nto the Greek expedition (\u1f72\u03c0\u1f76 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f19\u03bb\u03bb\u03ac\u03b4\u03b1 \u1f40\u03c5\u03b4\u03b1\u03bc\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f96\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\n\u1f00\u03c1\u03c7\u1f70\u03c2 \u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03c5\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9.--Herod. VII. 5), but, like all weaklings in high\nplaces, was wrought upon by others; in this case, specially, by his\ncousin Mardonius, according to the account of Herodotus.--See GROTE,\nVol. V. p. 4.\n\n{433}\n\n\n Note 29 (p. 323).\n \". . . First the Mede was king\n Of the vast host of people.\"\n\nTwo peculiarities in this enumeration of the early Persian kings will\nstrike the reader. _First_, Two of the Median kings--ASTYAGES and\nCYAXARES, according to the common account, are named before CYRUS\nthe Great, who, as being the first native Persian sovereign, is commonly\nregarded as the founder of the later Persian empire. _Second_, Between\nMARDUS (commonly called SMERDIS), and Darius, the father of Xerxes,\ntwo intermediate names--contrary to common account--are introduced. I do\nnot believe our historical materials are such as entitle us curiously to\nscrutinize these matters.\n\n\n Note 30 (p. 328).\n \"A Maryandine wailer.\"\n\nThe _Maryandini_ were a Bithynian people, near the Greek city of\nHeraclea, Xenoph. Anab. vi. 2; Strabo xii. p. 542. The peasants in\nthat quarter were famous for singing a rustic wail, which is alluded\nto in the text. See POLLUX, Lib. iv. \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u1fb3\u03c3\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03b8\u03bd\u03b9\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd. The\n_Mysians_ mentioned, p. 331, below, were their next door neighbours;\nand the Phrygians generally, who in a large sense include the Mysians\nand Bithynians, were famous for their violent and passionate music,\ndisplayed principally in the worship of Cybele. So the Phrygian in\nEuripides (Orest. 1384) is introduced wailing \u1f01\u03c1\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03bc\u03ad\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b2\u03b1\u03c1\u03b2\u03b1\u03c1\u1ff3\n\u03b2\u03bf\u1fb3. The critics who have considered this last scene of the cantata\nridiculous, have not attended either to human nature or to the customs\nof the Persians, as STAN. quotes them from HEROD. ix. 24, and\nCURTIUS iii. 12.\n\n\n Note 31 (p. 328).\n\n_Leader of the Chorus_. I have here adopted LIN.'s view, that the\nLeader of the Chorus here addresses the whole body; and, for the sake\nof symmetry, have repeated the couplet in the Antistrophe. No violence\nis thus done to the meaning of \u1f10\u03ba\u03c0\u03b5\u03cd\u03b8\u03bf\u03c5. Another way is, with PAL.,\nto put the line into the mouth of Xerxes--\"_Cry out and ask me!_\"\n\n\n Note 32 (p. 331).\n \"Oaring with the oars of woe!\"\n\nI have carefully retained the original phraseology here, as being\ncharacteristic of the Greek tragedians, perhaps of the maritime\npropensities of the Athenians. See in SEVEN AGAINST THEBES, p. 286\nabove, and CH\u0152OPHOR\u00c6, p. 112, Strophe VII. Euripides, in Iphig. Aul.\n131, applies the same verb to the lower extremities, making Agamemnon\nsay to his old servant \u03b5\u03c1\u03ad\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u03c3\u1f78\u03bd \u03c0\u03cc\u03b4\u03b1--as if one of our jolly tars\nshould say in his pleasant slang, \"_Come along, my boy, put the oars\nto your old hull, and move off!_\"\n\n\n Note 33 (p. 332).\n \"Sons of Susa, with delicate feet.\"\n\nI should be most happy for the sake of \u00c6schylus, and my translation,\nto think there was nothing in the \u1f01\u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03b2\u03ac\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9. of this passage but the\nnatural expression of grief so simply given in the scriptural\nnarrative, I Kings xxi. 27; and in that stanza of one of Mr.\nTennyson's most beautiful poems--\n\n   \"Full knee-deep lies the wintry snow,\n  And the winter winds are wearily sighing;\n  {434}\n  Toll ye the church bell sad and slow,\n  And _tread softly_ and speak low,\n   For the old year lies a-dying.\"\n\nBut there is more in \u1f01\u03b2\u03c1\u03cc\u03c2 than mere _gentleness_, and to the Greek\near it would no doubt speak of the general luxuriance and effeminacy of\nthe Persian manners. To put such an allusion into the mouth of Xerxes on\nthe present occasion is no doubt in the worst possible taste; but the\nGreeks were too intensely national in their feelings to take a curious\naccount of such matters.\n\n\n[End of Notes]\n\n\n\n LIST OF EDITIONS,\n COMMENTARIES, AND TRANSLATIONS\n USED BY THE TRANSLATOR\n\n{435}\n\n_Editions of the whole Plays._\n\nAldus: Venet, 1518.\n\nVictorius: ex officina Stephani; 1557.\n\nFoulis: Glasgu\u00e6; 1746.\n\nSch\u00fctz: 2 vols. Oxon.; 1810.\n\nButler: Cantab.; 1809-16, ex editione Stanleii; 4 vols. 4to.\n\nWellauer: cum. Lexico. Lipsi\u00e6; 1823-31.\n\nScholefield: Cantab.; 1828.\n\nPaley: Cantab.; 1844-47. 2 vols. 8vo.\n\n\n_Editions of the Separate Plays._\n\nTHE AGAMEMNON.\n\nBlomfield: Cantab.; 1822.\n\nKennedy (with an English version, and Voss, German one). Dublin; 1829.\n\nKlausen: Goth\u00e6 et Erfordi\u00e6; 1833.\n\nPeile. London: Murray; 1839.\n\nConnington (with an English poetical version). London; 1848.\n\nFranz: with the Choephor\u00e6 and the Eumenides, and a German metrical\ntranslation. Leipzig; 1849.\n\nCHOEPHOR\u00c6.\n\nSchwenk: Trajecti ad Rhenum; 1819.\n\nKlausen: Goth\u00e6 et Erfordi\u00e6; 1835.\n\nPeile. London: Murray; 1844.\n\nEUMENIDES.\n\nK. O. M\u00fcller (with a German translation). G\u00f6ttingen; 1833: and Anhang;\n1834.\n\nLinwood: Oxon.; 1844.\n\nPROMETHEUS.\n\nBothe: Lipsi\u00e6; 1830.\n\nG. C. W. Schneider. Weimar; 1834.\n\nSchoemann (with a German translation). Greifswald; 1844.\n\nTHE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES.\n\nBlomfield. Cantab.; 1817.\n\nG. C. W. Schneider. Weimar; 1834.\n\nGriffith. Oxford.\n\nTHE PERSIANS.\n\nBlomfield. Cantab; 1815.\n\nG. C. W. Schneider. Weimar; 1837.\n\n_Commentaries, Dissertations, Monograms, &c._\n\nApparatus Criticus et Exegeticus in \u00c6schyli trag\u00e6dias; continens\nSTANLEII commentarium, ABRESCHII animadersiones, et REISIGII\nemendationes in Prometheum. 2 vols. 8vo. Halis Saxonum; 1832.\n\nLinwood: lexicon to \u00c6schylus, 2nd edition. London; 1847.\n\nBl\u00fcmner: Weber die Idee des Schicksals in den Tragoedien des\n\u00c6schylus. Leipzig; 1814.\n\nWelcker: Die \u00c6schyleische Trilogie. Darmstadt; 1824.\n\nHermanni Opuscula: 6 vols. 8vo., Latin and German. Leipzig;\n1827-35.\n\nUnger: Thebana Paradoxa. Halis; 1839.\n\nKlausen: Theologoumena \u00c6schyli. Berolini; 1829.\n\nToepelmann: Commentatio de \u00c6schyli Prometheo (with a German\ntranslation). Lipsi\u00e6; 1829.\n\nB. G. Weiske: Prometheus und sein Mythenkreis. Leipzig; 1842.\n\nSchoemann: Vindici\u00e6 Jovis \u00c6eschylei. Gryphiswaldi\u00e6; 1846.\n\n_Translations._\n\nPotter: English verse, 4to. Norwich; 1777.\n\nAnon.: English prose (marked in my notes E. P. Oxon), 3rd edition.\nOxford; 1840.\n\nDroysen: German verse, 2nd edition. Berlin; 1842.\n\nT. A. Buckley: English prose. London: 1849.\n\nWilhelm von Humboldt: Agamemnon metrisch \u00fcbersetzt. Leipzig; 1816.\n\nSymmons: the Agamemnon in English verse. London; 1824.\n\nHarford: the Agamemnon in English verse. London; 1831.\n\nTh. Medwyn: the Agamemnon in English verse. London; 1832.\n\nSewell: the Agamemnon in English verse. London; 1846.\n\n{437}\n\nSchoemann: die Eumeniden, German verse. Greifswald; 1845.\n\nTh. Medwyn: the Prometheus, in English verse. London; 1832.\n\nProwett: the Prometheus, in English verse. Cambridge; 1846.\n\nSwayne: the Prometheus, in English verse. London; 1846.\n\nC. P. Conz: die Perser, and die Sieben vor T\u00fcebae. T\u00fcbingen; 1817.\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO THE PREFACE\n\n[f1]\nLife, Vol. I. p. 192.\n\n[f2]\nSOUTHEY requested a Frenchman ambitious of translating his Roderick,\nto do so in prose, not because he preferred that method in general, but\nbecause he believed that \"_poetry of the higher order is as impossible\nin French, as it is in Chinese!_\"--Life, Vol. IV. p. 100.\n\n[f3]\nLife, Vol. III. p. 44.\n\n[f4]\nSOUTHEY--Preface to _A Vision of Judgment_.\n\n[f5]\nAs for Klopstock's Odes, written mostly in classical metres, Zelter, the\nBerlin musician, said significantly that, when reading them, _he felt as\nif he were eating stones!_--See _Briefwechsel mit_ GOETHE.\n\n[f6]\n \u03a4\u1f78 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03c0\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u1ff3 \u03b5\u03c7\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf \u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c3\u03b1\u03c4\u03c5\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u1f74\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f40\u03c1\u03c7\u03b7\u03c3\u03c4\u03ba\u03c9\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\n (\u1f10)\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03af\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd.\n                                                              POET. 4.\n\n[f7]\nAs in the conclusion of the Agamemnon, when the passion of the interested\nparties has wrought itself up to a climax. So in the passionate dialogue\nbetween Eteocles and Polynices, in Eurip. Ph\u0153nis. 591. The use of the\nTrochees in these passages is thus precisely the same as that of the\nAnap\u00e6sts in the finale of the PROMETHEUS. In the PERSIANS, they serve\nto give an increased dignity to the person of Atossa, and the Shade of the\nroyal Darius.\n\n[f8]\n\"Take our blank verse for all in all, in all its gradations from the\nelaborate rhythm of Milton, down to its lowest structure in the early\ndramatists, and I believe that there is no measure comparable to it,\neither in our own or in any other language, for might and majesty,\nflexibility and compass.\"--SOUTHEY, Preface to the _Vision of\nJudgment_. What BULWER says to the contrary (Athens and the Athenians,\nvol. II. p. 43), was crudely thought, or idly spoken, and unworthy of\nso great a genius.\n\n[f9]\nEumenides, \u00a7 16.\n\n[f10]\nSee Aristides and the musical writers; also Dionysius. Consider, also,\nwhat a solemnity Plutarch attributes to the \u1f10\u03bc\u03b2\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd of the\nSpartans (Lycurg. 22), which, of course, was either Dactylic or Anap\u00e6stic\nverse. Altogether, there can be no greater mistake than to imagine that\nour Dactylic and Anap\u00e6stic verse are the \u00e6sthetical equivalents of the\nancient measures from which their names are borrowed. They are, in many\nparts of my translation, rather the equivalent of Dochmiac verse; and\nthis, in obedience to the uniform practice of our highest poets, in\npassages of high passion and excitement.\n\n[f11]\nMITCHELL (Aristoph. Ran. v. 1083) has remarked, with justice, that\n\u00c6schylus is particularly fond of this verse. I was prevented from using\nit so often as might have been desirable in the choric odes, from having\nmade it the representative of the Anap\u00e6sts.\n\n[f12]\nOn the Dochmiacs, Ionic a minori, and other rhythmical details, the\nreader will find occasional observations in the Notes; and those who\nare curious in those matters will find my views on some points more\nfully stated in _Classical Museum_, No. III. p. 338; No. XIII. p. 319,\nand No. XXII. p. 432. The Dochmiac verse was, in fact, equivalent to\na bar of 9/8 in modern music.--See _Apel's Metrik_.\n\n[f13]\nThe corrupt state of the \u00c6schylean text is no doubt to be attributed\nmainly to the rhetorical taste which, in the ages of the decadence,\nprevailed so long at Rome, Athens, Alexandria, and Byzantium, and which\nnaturally directed the attention of transcribers to the text of\nEuripides, the great master of tongue-fence and the model-poet of the\nschools.--See QUINCTIL. X. 1.\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO ON THE GENIUS AND CHARACTER OF THE GREEK TRAGEDY\n\n[f1]\nThere is a prevalent idea that the modern Greek language, or Romaic, as\nit is called, is a different language from the ancient Greek, pretty much\nin the same way that Italian is different from Latin. But this is a gross\nmistake. Greek was and is one unbroken living language, and ought to be\ntaught as such.\n\n[f2]\nWHISTON, Article TRAGEDY in SMITH's Dictionary of Antiquities,\nSecond Edition; and DONALDSON in the GREEK THEATRE, Sixth Edition.\nLondon: 1849. P. 30.\n\n[f3]\n\u0393\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b7 \u1f00\u03c0 \u1f00\u03c1\u03c7\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c3\u03c7\u03b5\u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1f74 \u1f21 \u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u1ff3\u03b4\u03af\u03b1 \u1f00\u03c0\u1f78 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f10\u03be\u03b1\u03c1\u03c7\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd\n\u03b4\u03b9\u03b8\u03cd\u03c1\u03b1\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03bc\u03b9\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u1f20\u03c5\u03be\u03ae\u03b8\u03b7.--ARISTOT. poet. 4.--Compare the words\nof the old Iambic poet Archilochus, given by Athenaeus (XIV. p. 628)--\"_I\nknow well how to dance the Dithyramb when the wine thunders dizzily\nthrough my brain!_\" The word _Dithyramb_, according to the best etymology\nwhich has come in my way (DONALDSON & HARTUNG), means the _revel\nof the god_.\n\n[f4]\n\u0391\u03c1\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u039c\u03b7\u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u03b1\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f21\u03bc\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f34\u03b4\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03ae\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n\u1f40\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03ac\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03ac\u03be\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03b8\u03cd\u03c1\u03b1\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u039a\u03bf\u03c1\u03af\u03bd\u03b8\u1ff3.--HEROD. I. 23.\nCompare SUIDAS _in voce_ ARION, and _Schol_. PINDAR., Olymp. XIII.\n25.\n\n[f5]\n\u0394\u03b9\u03b8\u03cd\u03c1\u03b1\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c2 (\u03bf)\u03c2 \u1f96\u03bd \u03ba\u03cd\u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c7\u03bf\u03c1\u03cc\u03c2.--Schol., Pindar, as above.\n\n[f6]\n\u03c7\u03bf\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1fbf\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u1f7c\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c5\u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03ba\u1ff6\u03c2.--Tzetzes. Proleg. to Lycophron.\n\n[f7]\nHARTUNG, on the Dithyramb.--Classical Museum, No. XVIII. p. 373.\nMURE's literature of ancient Greece.--Vol. III., p. 85.\n\n[f8]\nThe number fifty is mentioned in the Epigram of SIMONIDES, beginning\n\u1f20\u03c1\u03c7\u03b5\u03bd \u0391\u03b4\u03b5\u03af\u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, in the above-mentioned prologue of TZETZES, and in\nPOLLUX, Lib. iv., 15, who says that this number of the Chorus was used\neven by \u00c6schylus up to the time when the Eumenides was represented. The\nnumber _twelve_ is commonly mentioned by other authorities as having\nbeen used by \u00c6schylus, while Sophocles is said to have increased it to\nfifteen, which afterwards became the standard number. M\u00fcller\n(Eumenides) ingeniously supposes that the tragic poets, so long as the\nexhibition by tetralogies lasted, got the original number of _fifty_\nfrom the public authorities, and divided it among the different pieces\nof the tetralogy. Blomfield's notion (Preface to the PERSAE) that the\nChorus to the Eumenides consisted of only three persons, though a kind\nword has been said in its favour lately (MASON in Smith's Dict. of\nAntiq. _voce_ CHORUS), deserves, in my opinion, not a moment's\nconsideration, either on philological or \u00e6sthetical grounds. I may\nmention here further, for the sake of those to whom these matters are\nstrange, that the Chorus holds communication with the other characters\nin a Greek play generally by means of its Coryphaeus or Leader, which is\nthe reason why it is often addressed in the singular and not in the\nplural number.\n\n[f9]\n_Vit. Philos._ III. 34. It will be observed that, if a third actor\nappears on the stage in some parts of the Orestean trilogy, this is to\nbe accounted for by the supposition that, in his later plays, the poet\nadopted the improvements which his young rival had first introduced. The\nnumber of actors here spoken of does not, of course, take into account\nmutes or supernumeraries, such as we find in great numbers in the\nEumenides, and more or less almost in every extant piece of \u00c6schylus.\n\n[f10]\nPoetics, c. xiii.\n\n[f11]\nWilson, Vol. I. p. xxvi.\n\n[f12]\nTwining; but the meaning of the Greek is disputed.\n\n[f13]\n\"\u1f21 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03af\u03b9\u03b1, \u03bc\u03ad\u03b3\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f21\u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd.\"--Poetics, c. vi. The success of\nthe modern _Italian_ opera in England, proves this in a style of which\nAristotle could have had no conception.\n\n[f14]\nThe position of the old Theban senators, who form the Chorus in this\nplay, has called forth not a little learned gladiatorship lately;\nB\u00d6CKH (whose opinion on all such matters is entitled to the\nprofoundest respect) maintaining that the Chorus is the impersonated\nwisdom of the play as conceived in the poet's mind, while some of his\ncritics (_Dyer_ in _Class. Mus._ Vol. II. p. 69) represent them as a\npack of cowardly sneaking Thebans, whom it was the express object of the\npoet to make ridiculous. This latter opinion is no more tenable than it\nwould be to say that it was the object of \u00c6schylus to make his Chorus\nof old men in that noted scene of the Agamemnon ridiculous; but so much\ntruth there certainly is in it, that from the inherent defect of\nstructure in the Greek tragedy, consisting in the constant presence of\nthe Chorus in the double capacity of impartial moralizers and actors\nafter a sort, there could not but arise this awkwardness to the poet\nthat, while he always contrived to make them speak wisely, he sometimes\ncould not prevent them from acting weakly, and even contemptibly.\n\n[f15]\nOn the dramatic imbecility of EURIPIDES, see my article in the _Foreign\nQuarterly Review_, No. XLVIII. His success as a dramatist is the\nstrongest possible proof of the undramatic nature of the stage for which\nhe wrote.\n\n[f16]\nSee the article DIONYSIA, by Dr. SCHMITZ, in SMITH's Dictionary of\nAntiq.\n\n[f17]\nThe same doctrine, I am sorry to see, has been repeated with special\nreference to \u00c6schylus, and with very little qualification, by WHISTON\nin the article _Trag\u00e6dia_ in Dr. Smith's Dict. Antiq., 2d Edit., p.\n1146. SCHLEGEL is quite wrong, when he says \"the Greek gods are mere\n_Naturm\u00e4chte_\"--physical or elemental powers. CONNINGTON, however, in\nthe preface to his Agamemnon, expresses exactly my sentiments, when he\nprotests against a \"crystallization of destiny\" being set up \"as the\npresiding genius of the national dramatic literature of the Greeks.\"\n\n[f18]\nSee the works of KLAUSEN and BLUMNER in the List of Editions. And our\nEnglish SEWELL recognizes, in the works of \u00c6schylus, \"the voice of a\nself-constituted Heathen Church protesting against the vices and follies\nthat surrounded her.\"--Preface to the Agamemnon, p. 15.\n\n[f19]\nCicero pro Mur\u00e6na, 13.\n\n[f20]\n\u0391\u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03cd\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03c3\u03c7\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u1f78\u03c1\u03c7\u03b7\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1f70 \u1f00\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f72\u03be\u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03af\u03c3\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd, \u1f00\u03bd\u03b5\u03b4\u03af\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2\n\u03c7\u03bf\u03c1\u03b5\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c2.--Lib. I. p. 22.\n\n[f21]\nSee DYER, on the Choral Dancing of the Greeks,--_Classical Museum_,\nNo. IX. p. 229.\n\n[f22]\nB\u00d6CKH and DONALDSON, in their editions of the ANTIGONE. Berlin,\n1843, p. 280. London, 1848. Introduction, p. xxix.\n\n[f23]\nI read \u1f10\u03b9\u03c3\u03cc\u03b4\u1ff3, not (\u03b5)\u03be\u03cc\u03b4\u1ff3, as it is in Matthiae, which is either a\nmisprint, or a mistake in the writer, as the quotation immediately\nfollowing proves.\n\n[f24]\nThis is M\u00dcLLER's view in Eumenides, \u00a7 21.\n\n[f25]\nIt may be as well here, for the sake of some readers, to remark that the\norchestra, or _dancing place_ (for so the word means), was that part of\nthe ancient theatre which corresponds to the modern PIT. For a minute\ndescription of the ancient stage, the reader must consult DONALDSON's\nGreek Theatre, c. VII.\n\n[f26]\nOne of the most striking proofs of this is the many instances that\noccur in the tragedians of that most undramatic of all\nmannerisms--_self-description_--as when a sorrowful Chorus describes the\ntears on its cheek, the beating on its breast, and such like. True grief\nnever paints itself.\n\n[f27]\nBULWER, in Athens and the Athenians.\n\n[f28]\nFrom the limited number of actors arose necessarily this evil, that the\npersons in a Greek dramatic fable appear not cotemporaneously, but in\nsuccession, one actor necessarily playing several parts. Now, the\ncommonest fabricator of a novel for the circulating library knows how\nnecessary it is to keep up a sustained interest, that the character, when\nonce introduced, shall not be allowed to drop out of view, but be\ndexterously intermingled with the whole complex progress of the story,\nand be felt as necessary, or at least as agreeable, to the very end.\n\n[f29]\nWriters on Belles Lettres, from TRAPP down to SCHLEGEL, have been\nvery severe on the modern opera, and indignantly repudiated all\ncomparison between it and the Greek tragedy. It is a common illusion of\nmental optics with the learned to magnify the defects of what is near\nand before their nose, while the peculiar excellencies of what is far\ndistant in time or space are in a corresponding degree exalted. So\nSCHLEGEL, in his sublime German zeal against certain shallow judgments\nof Voltaire and other French critics, worked himself up into an\nidealized enthusiasm for some of the most glaring imperfections of the\nGreek stage, while in the modern opera he only sees the absurdities of\nthe real. In assuming this tone he has, of course, been imitated by\ncertain persons of little speculation in this country, who have thought\nit necessary slavishly to worship the Germans in all things, merely\nbecause certain other persons of no speculation ignorantly despised\nthem. With regard to the opera, it is plain enough that it differs from\nthe ancient tragedy in the following points:--(1) In not being\nessentially of a religious character; (2) in not varying the musical\nwith the declamatory element; (3) in dealing more in monody, and less in\nchoral singing; (4) in using the Chorus freely, according to the nature\nof the action, and not being always encumbered with it; (5) in making\nthe mere musical element so predominate that poets of the first order\nseldom condescend to employ their talents in writing the text for an\nopera. All these special differences, however, do not mar the propriety\nof the general comparison between an ancient \"goat-song\" and a modern\nopera, justified, as it is, plainly by the common musical element which\nboth contain in different degrees of prominence. In point of high moral\ntone, high poetic diction, and noble conception, the ancient lyrical\ndrama is no doubt vastly superior to the modern opera; but in some other\npoints, as in the more free and adroit use of the Chorus, the opera is\nas much superior to the goat-song. With respect to the CHORUS in\nparticular, SCHLEGEL has said many things that look very wise, but are\nsimply not true. The Chorus is only half described (see above, p. 20),\nwhen it is called the \"ideal spectator.\" What he says about _publicity_\nis mere talk. There is no other reason for the presence of the Chorus\nthan because it was originally the essential part of the performance,\nand could not but be to the end the most popular.\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO THE LIFE OF \u00c6SCHYLUS\n\n[f1]\n\"\u00c6schylus used to say that his tragedies were only slices cut from the\ngreat banquet of Homeric dainties.\"--Athen\u00e6us, VIII. p. 348.\n\n[f2]\nIn the FROGS (v. 886), Aristophanes makes him show at once the\nreligiousness of his character, and its source, in the two lines of\ninvocation--\n\n  \"O thou that nourished my young soul, Demeter,\n  Make thou me worthy of thy mysteries!\"\n\n[f3]\nFrom the \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03af\u03b1, or note of the year of representation  with the\nname of the author, in the argument to that play. On the arguments from\ninternal evidence brought forward to prove that the SUPPLIANTS is the\noldest extant play, I place no value whatever. The simplicity of\nstructure proves nothing, because it proves too much. Several of the\nextant plays are equally simple. For aught we know, it may have been the\npractice of \u00c6schylus to the very last, as we see in the case of the\nChoephor\u00e6, to give the middle piece of his trilogies less breadth and\nvariety than the opening and concluding ones; and it is almost certain\nthat the SUPPLIANTS was either the second or the first play of a\ntrilogy.\n\n[f4]\nSchol. Aristoph. Ran. 1060, Welcker's Tril. p. 475, and the _Vit.\nRobortel._ (which, however, I have not seen).\n\n[f5]\nMar. Par. ep. 53. Welcker's _Tril._ p. 116.\n\n[f6]\nSee Introduction to that piece.\n\n[f7]\nScholiast, Aristoph. Acharn. v. 10.\n\n[f8]\nPHILOSTRATUS, Vit. Soph. I. 9; Vit. Apollon. VI. 11, p. 244.\n\n[f9]\nThe great comedian is particularly amusing in the contrast which he draws\nbetween the rude instinctive grandeur of the \u00c6schylean diction and the\nelegant rhetorical decorations of Euripides:--\n\n  \"With high-sounding words he will make such a pother,\n  With helmeted speeches he bravely will spout;\n  With chippings and shavings of rhetoric the other\n    All whirling and dancing about\n  Will stand at bay; but the deep-thoughted bard,\n  With equestrian harmonies, galloping hard,\n      Will floor in the fight\n      The glib-tongued wight.\n  The stiff hair of his mane all alive for the fray,\n  Bristling and big from the roots he will ruffle;\n  His black brows he will knit, and terribly bray,\n    Like a lion that roars for the scuffle.\n  Huge words by rivets and spike-nails bound,\n  Like plank on plank he will fling on the ground,\n      Blasting so bold\n      Like a Titan of old.\"\n\n[f10]\nARISTOTLE, Ethic. Nicom. III. 1. CLEMEN. ALEX., Strom II. 14, p.\n461. POTT. Aelian, V.H.V. 19, and WELCKER, Trilog. p. 106.\n\n[f11]\nThe primary authorities for the life of \u00c6schylus are the PARIAN\nMARBLE, the \u0392\u03af\u03bf\u03c2 \u0391\u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03cd\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5, the FROGS of ARISTOPHANES, the\narguments of the extant plays, and various incidental notices in\nATHEN\u00c6US and other ancient authors, most of whom have been quoted or\nmentioned in the text. With regard to secondary sources of information,\nthe present writer has been much assisted, and had his labour\nessentially curtailed, by PETERSEN's _Vita \u00c6schyli_, Havniae, 1812;\nthe article \u00c6SCHYLUS, by WHISTON, in Dr. SMITH's Dictionary of\nBiography and Mythology; the admirable condensed summary in\nBERNHARDY's _Grundriss der Griechischen Litteratur, 2ter, Theil_,\nHALLE, 1845; and DONALDSON's Greek Theatre. In Chronology, I have\nfollowed CLINTON.\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO THE AGAMEMNON\n\n[f1]\nWelcker, in the introductory remarks to his _Epischer Cyclus_ (\u00a7 1), has\ngiven what appear to me sufficient reasons for not confounding this\nProclus with the famous Platonist of the same name.\n\n[f2]\nThis and other curious fragments from the wreck of the old Hellenic epos,\nwill be found in Becker's Scholia to Homer (Berlin, 1825), or in the\nsecond volume of Welcker's Epic Cycle (Bonn, 1849), in the Appendix.\n\n[f3]\nSee Thucydides, I. 9.\n\n[f4]\nSee Welcker's _Trilogie_, Darmstadt, 1824, p. 408, who, however, here,\nas in other parts of the same learned work, expends much superfluity of\ningenious conjecture on subjects which, from their very nature, are\nnecessarily barren of any certain result.\n\n[f5]\nJove to Priam sent the eagle, of all flying things that be\nNoblest made, his dark-winged hunter.\n\n[f6]\n_i.e._ The right hand--the hand which brandishes the spear, \u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba\n\u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9\u03c0\u03ac\u03bb\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5; right being the lucky side in Greek augury.--ILIAD,\nxxiv. 320.\n\n[f7]\nCalchas, the famous soothsayer of the Iliad.\n\n[f8]\nDiana.\n\n[f9]\nThis excellent version I took from an article in the _Quarterly\nReview_.--Vol. lxx. p. 340.\n\n[f10]\nThe sacrifice of Iphigenia displeasing to Clytemnestra.\n\n[f11]\nChalcis, a city in Eub\u0153a, opposite Aulis.\n\n[f12]\nA river in Macedonia.\n\n[f13]\nThe epithet \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b9\u03c0\u03c1\u03ce\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5, _beautiful fronted_, applied to \u03c3\u03c4\u03cc\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 being\ncontrary to the genius of the English language, the translator must\ncontent himself with the simple epithet.\n\n[f14]\nAn old name for the Peloponnesus.\n\n[f15]\nVulcan.\n\n[f16]\nVenus.\n\n[f17]\nThe Furies.\n\n[f18]\nMars.\n\n[f19]\n\"My bosom's lord sits lightly on his throne.\"--SHAKESPEARE, quoted by\nSymmons.\n\n[f20]\n\u00c6sculapius.\n\n[f21]\n_Swallow jabber_.--\"Barbarians are called swallows because their speech\ncannot be understood any more than the twitter of swallows.\"--_Stanley,\nfrom Hesychius_.\n\n[f22]\nAn epithet of Apollo from \u03bb\u03bf\u03be\u1f78\u03c2 oblique, for which Macrobius (Sat. I. 17)\ngives astronomical reasons; but it seems more obvious to say that the god\nis so called from the obliqueness or obscurity of his oracles.\n\n[f23]\nFrom the looseness of the laws of quantity in English versification, it\nmay be as well to state here that I wish these lines of seven syllables\nto be read as vv--', v--', v--'. not --' v, --' v , --' v, --'.\n\n[f24]\nThe Furies.\n\n[f25]\nDun-plumed. \u03be\u03bf\u03c5\u03b8\u1f70.\n\n  \"Because the poor brown bird, alas!\n  Sings in the garden sweet and true.\"\n                        MISS BARRETT.\n\n[f26]\n\"Most musical, most melancholy bird!\nA melancholy bird? O idle thought!\nIn Nature there is nothing melancholy.\"\n                             COLERIDGE\n\n[f27]\nSee Introductory Remarks.\n\n[f28]\nThe banquet of his own children, which Atreus offered to Thyestes.--See\nIntroductory Remarks.\n\n[f29]\nApollo.\n\n[f30]\n\u03c0\u03cc\u03c1\u03b8\u03bc\u03b5\u03c5\u03bc \u1f00\u03c7\u03ad\u03c9\u03bd, whence Acheron, so familiar to English ears; as in the\nsame way _Cocytus_, from \u03ba\u03c9\u03ba\u03c5\u03c9, to avail, and the other infernal streams,\nwith a like appropriateness.\n\n[f31]\nThe house of Atreus, so called from Pleisthenes, one of the ancestry of\nAgamemnon.\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO THE CHOEPHOR\u00c6\n\n[f1]\nSee Niebuhr's Travels (\u00a7 25, c. 4); Michaelis' Commentaries on the Laws\nof Moses (Art. 135); and Southey's Thalaba.\n\n[f2]\n_Dictionary_--voce GOEL, and Commentaries, \u00a7 131.\n\n[f3]\nDie Thymele in der Orchestra ist durch ein Aschenkrug als Agamemnon's\nGrab bezeichnet.--DROYSEN.\n\n[f4]\nHermes, or Mercury, in his capacity of guide of the dead (\u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03bc\u03c0\u03cc\u03c2) is\nhere called \u03a7\u03b8\u03cc\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, or subterranean.\n\n[f5]\nIphigenia.\n\n[f6]\nProserpine.\n\n[f7]\nSee Note 64 to Agamemnon.\n\n[f8]\nHermes or Mercury. See Notes 55 and 56 above.\n\n[f9]\nThe Gorgon Medusa.\n\n[f10]\nAgamemnon and Electra.\n\n[f11]\nThe Furies.--See next piece.\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO THE EUMENIDES\n\n[f1]\nThis original germ of the Furies is mentioned frequently in these plays,\nas \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c1\u1f70\u03b9 \u03c6\u03b8\u03b9\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd, _Fell Curses of the Dead_, in the Choephor\u00e6,\np. 111 in above. See also the words of Clytemnestra, _My curse beware_,\np. 126 above.\n\n[f2]\nWordsworth's \"Athens and Attica,\" London, 1836, c. 11.\n\n[f3]\n\"\u039a\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u1f08\u03c1\u03b5\u03af\u1ff3 \u03c0\u03ac\u03b3\u1ff3 \u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u1f74\u03bd \u1f19\u03c6\u03b9\u03ac\u03bb\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba\u03cc\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03a0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03bb\u1fc6\u03c2. \u03c4\u1f70 \u03b4\u1f72\n\u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03ae\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1 \u03bc\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03bf\u03c6\u03cc\u03c1\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5 \u03a0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03bb\u1fc6\u03c2.\"--ARISTOTLE, Pol. II. 9. 3.\n\n[f4]\n\"\u03a4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03bd\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c1\u03c7\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f10\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u039c\u03b7\u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u1f41 \u03b4\u1fc6\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f04\u03b9\u03c4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2\n\u1f10\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03af\u03c3\u03b8\u03b7.\"--ARISTOTLE, _ibid_.\n\n[f5]\nThe progeny of Earth and Heaven were called Titans, among whom Ph\u0153be is\nnumbered by Hesiod.--Theog. 136.\n\n[f6]\nApollo.\n\n[f7]\nOne of the waters that descend from Parnassus.\n\n[f8]\nNeptune.\n\n[f9]\nSee note to Choephor\u00e6, No. 73.\n\n[f10]\n\u03c0\u03bf\u03bc\u03c0\u1fb6\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2. Of the dead specially, but also of the living: as of Ulysses\nin the Odyssey, Book X.\n\n[f11]\nLiterally the unseen world. Sometimes used for the King of the unseen\nworld--Pluto.\n\n[f12]\nSee Introductory Remarks.\n\n[f13]\n_Lucidae sedes_.--HORACE III. 3.\n\n[f14]\nSee Introductory Remarks. They designate themselves here from their\norigin, \u1f08\u03c1\u03b1\u1f76 or _imprecations_.\n\n[f15]\nThat is, the Furies themselves.\n\n[f16]\nWer nie sein Brod mit Thr\u00e4nen ass,\nUnd durch die kummervollen N\u00e4chte\nAuf seinem Bette weinend sass,\nEr kennt Euch nicht, ihr h\u00eemmlischen M\u00e4chte!--GOETHE.\n\n[f17]\n\"For strangers and the poor are from Jove.\"--HOMER.\n\n[f18]\nSee above, p. 141, Note 4.\n\n[f19]\nThat is, _Asia_. See Introduction to the Agamemnon.\n\n[f20]\nAlluding to the well-known and beautiful allegoric myth that the goddess\nof wisdom sprang, full-armed, into birth from the brain of the all-wise\nOmnipotent, without the intervention of a mother.\n\n[f21]\nSee the Preliminary Remarks.\n\n[f22]\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03cc\u03c1\u03bd\u03b9\u03b8\u03b1\u03c2, as we say ill-starred--that is, _unfortunate_, _unlucky_,\nthe metaphor being varied, according to the changes of fashions in the\npractice of divination.\n\n[f23]\nAlii \u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u1ff6\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9--\"fortasse non male.\"--PALEY.\n\n[f24]\nThe goddess of Persuasion--\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03b8\u1f7c.\n\n[f25]\nLike Erectheus (p. 167 above), one of the most ancient Earth-born kings\nof Attica.\n\n[f26]\nSo the Greeks called anything very ancient, from Ogyges, an old B\u0153otian\nking.\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO THE PROMETHEUS BOUND\n\n[f1]\nClassical Museum, No. XV. p 1.\n\n[f2]\nBUCK. (Introduction, p. xiii.) has very aptly compared here the\nposition of Antigone, in the well-known play of that name, and the\nhalf-approving, half-condemning tone of the Chorus in that play.\n\n[f3]\nThe most remarkable passages of the ancients where reference is made to\nthe _Prometheus Unbound_ of \u00c6schylus are:--CICERO, Tusc. II. 10;\nARRIAN. Periplus Pont. Eux. p. 19; STRABO, Lib. I. p. 33 and IV.\n182-3; PLUTARCHUS. vit. Pompeii, init.; ATHEN\u00c6US. XV. p. 672, Cas.\n\n[f4]\n\"Veniat \u00c6schylus non poeta solum, sed etiam Pythagoreus. Sic enim\naccepimus. Quo modo fert apud eum Prometheus dolorem, quern excipit _ob\nfurtum Lemnium_.\"--_Tusc. Qu\u00e6st_. II. 10, _Welcker; Trilogie_, p. 7.\n\n[f5]\n\"_Chorus consilietur amicis._\"--HORACE.\n\n[f6]\nOn the stage, of course, her transmutation can only be indicated by the\npresence of a pair of ox horns on her virgin forehead.\n\n[f7]\n\u1f21 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b9\u03bb\u03b5\u03af\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd \u03bd\u03cd\u03be. _Buntgewandige_--SCHOE. \"_Various-vested\nNight._\"--COLERIDGE, in a Sonnet to the Autumnal Moon.\n\n[f8]\n\u1f00\u03b9\u03b8\u03ad\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03af\u03bd\u03c5\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1.\n\n[f9]\nSaturn the father of Jove.\n\n[f10]\n\"And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face\nof the earth, both man and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls\nof the air: for it repenteth me that I have made him.\"--GEN. vi. 7.\n\n[f11]\nThe Sea of Azof.\n\n[f12]\n\"Of all the things that breathe the air, and creep upon the Earth,\nThe weakest thing that breathes and creeps on nurturing Earth is Man.\"\n                                            HOMER'S ODYS. xviii. 130.\n\n[f13]\n_i.e._ Delphi.--See Schol. to Iliad II. 519.\n\n[f14]\nRhea's bosomed sea--the Hadriatic.\n\n[f15]\nThe Ionian sea.\n\n[f16]\nThe Danaids, daughters of Danaus, who colonized Argos from Egypt. This\nforms the subject of the next play--the Suppliants.\n\n[f17]\nSee the Agamemnon, Note 15.\n\n[f18]\nCompare Odyssey, I. 32.\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO THE SUPPLIANTS\n\n[f1]\nVol. I., c. 3.\n\n[f2]\nFAST., HELLEN., Introduc. pp. 6, 7.\n\n[f3]\nSee Introductory Remarks to the Eumenides.\n\n[f4]\nThe usual insignia of Suppliants. Wool was commonly used in the adornment\nof insignia hallowed by religion.--See Dict. Antiq., _voc. infula_ and\n_apex._; and Note 72 to the Choephor\u00e6, and Clem. Alex. Prot. \u00a7 10.\n\n[f5]\nEpaphus and Io.\n\n[f6]\nEpaphus, from \u1f11\u03c0\u03b1\u03c6\u1f74. See Note 3 immediately above.\n\n[f7]\nThis is explained by what follows. An augur, of course, was the proper\nperson to recognise the notes of birds, or what resembled them.\n\n[f8]\nSee Note 76 to Agamemnon.\n\n[f9]\nPAL. quotes from Massinger's _Emperor of the East_, \"To a sad tune I\nsing my own dirge,\" which I have adopted.\n\n[f10]\nArtemis, or Diana.\n\n[f11]\n\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03be\u03b5\u03bd\u03ce\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u0396\u1fc6\u03bd\u03b1, that is, PLUTO.\n\n[f12]\nSee Note 46 to the Eumenides.\n\n[f13]\nSee Iliad viii. 69, and other passages, describing the \"golden scales of\nJove,\" in which the fates of men are weighed.\n\n[f14]\nSee the Agamemnon, Note 94.\n\n[f15]\nSee PALEY.\n\n[f16]\nCyprus.\n\n[f17]\nSee Prometheus Bound, p. 192 above.\n\n[f18]\nSee Prometheus Bound, p. 204 and Note 46.\n\n[f19]\nIn this very perplexed passage I follow PAL. BOTHE's conjecture,\n\u0391\u03c1\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03c2, is very happy.\n\n[f20]\nA promontory in Cilicia.--STRABO, p. 670. PAL.\n\n[f21]\n\u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03be\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9.--See Note 19 to page 226 above.\n\n[f22]\n\"Potui humor ex hordeo aut frumento in quandam similitudinem\nvini corruptus.\"--TACITUS de mor. Geom. c. 23.\n\n[f23]\nVenus.\n\n[f24]\nThis river and the Inachus flow into the Argolic gulf, both near the\ncity of Argos, taking their rise in the mountain ridge that separates\nArgos from Arcadia.\n\n[f25]\nThe goddess of Persuasion.\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES\n\n[f1]\nEurip. Ph\u0153nissae. Prolog., and Argument to the same from the Cod.\nGuelpherbyt. in Matthiae.\n\n[f2]\n\u03c0\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1fbf\u03b5\u03bd \u1fbf\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u1f00\u1fe4\u1fe5\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c6\u03b8\u03bf\u03c1\u03af\u03b1\u03bd \u1f11\u03c5\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd.--Compare ROMANS i, 27.\n\n[f3]\n\u039c\u1f74 \u03c3\u03c0(\u03b5)\u03af\u03c1\u03b5 \u03c4\u03ad\u03ba\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u1f04\u03bb\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03b2\u03af\u1fb3, \u03ba.\u03c4.\u03bb.--Eurip. Ph\u0153nis. 19.\n\n[f4]\n\u1f40\u03b9\u03b4\u03ad\u03c9 to swell, and \u03c0\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c2 a foot; literally _swell-foot_. Welcker remarks\nthat there is a peculiar significancy in the appellations connected with\nthis legend; even \u039b\u03ac\u03ca\u03bf\u03c2 being connected with \u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u03ac\u03b6\u03c9, \u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03ba\u03b1\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2, and\nother similar words--(_Trilog_. p. 355)--but this is dangerous ground.\n\n[f5]\nThe \u03c3\u03c7\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03ae \u1f41\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2.--See Wordsworth's Greece, p. 21.\n\n[f6]\nIt is particularly mentioned in the oldest form of the legend, that he\nconsidered his sons had not sent him his due share of the flesh offered\nin the family sacrifice.--Scholiast Soph. O. C. 1375. This is alluded to\nin the fifth antistrophe of the third great choral chaunt of this play,\nv. 768. WELL. See my Note.\n\n[f7]\nThe subject of \"The Eleusinians\" was the burial of the dead bodies of the\nchiefs who had fallen before Thebes, through the mediation of\nTheseus.--See Plutarch, Life of that hero, c. 29.\n\n[f8]\nSee Welcker's Trilogie, p. 359, etc.\n\n[f9]\nClassical Museum, No. XXV. p. 312.\n\n[f10]\nSee PALEY's Note.\n\n[f11]\nSee Introductory Remarks.\n\n[f12]\nSee Note 35 to the Suppliants, p. 235 above.\n\n[f13]\nCHANCE (\u03a4\u03cd\u03c7\u03b7), it must be recollected, was a divine power among the\nancients.\n\n[f14]\nSee Note 60 to the Choephor\u00e6.\n\n[f15]\nThe name PARTHENOPAUS, from \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b8\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2, a virgin, and \u1f64\u03c8 the countenance.\n\n[f16]\nSee Note 60 to Agamemnon.\n\n[f17]\nSee Note 73 to the Choephor\u00e6.\n\n[f18]\nSee PAPE. _in voce_ \u03b1\u03bb\u03c6\u03b7\u03c3\u03c4\u03ae\u03c2.\n\n[f19]\nMaritime similes are very common in \u00c6schylus, and specially\nthis.--Compare Agamemnon, p. 70, Strophe II.\n\n[f20]\nAnother pun on POLYNICES, see above, p. 278.\n\n[f21]\n_i.e._ Raging flood, _Thyad_, from \u03b8\u03cd\u03c9, to rage.\n\n[f22]\nSee Note 67 to Agamemnon.\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES TO THE PERSIANS\n\n[f1]\nThe play of Phrynichus, which celebrated the defeat of Xerxes, was called\n_Ph\u0153niss\u00e6_, from the Ph\u0153nician virgins who composed the chorus. How far\n\u00c6schylus may have borrowed from this work is now impossible to know.\nNothing certainly can be gained by pressing curiously the word\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u1fc6\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 in the mouth of an old grammarian.\n\n[f2]\nCh\u0153rilus was a Samian, contemporary of Herodotus, but younger. His poem,\nentitled \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03c3\u03b9\u03ba\u03ac, included the expedition of Darius as well as that of\nXerxes.\n\n[f3]\nBy the praiseworthy exertions of Mr. Bohn, the English reader is now\nsupplied with translations of this, and other Classical writers, at a\nvery cheap rate.\n\n[f4]\nVol. V. p. 191. THIRLWALL had defended the statement of \u00c6schylus.\n\n[f5]\nHerodotus VII. 1-4.\n\n[f6]\nTrilogie, p. 470; Ariadne, p. 81.\n\n[f7]\nThese plays were PHINEUS, the PERSIANS, GLAUCUS, and PROMETHEUS.\nThe last was a satiric piece, having no connection with the Prometheus\nBound, or the trilogy to which it belonged.\n\n[f8]\nSee LINWOOD--_voce_ \u03b2\u03b1\u03b0\u03b6\u03c9.\n\n[f9]\n\"The people of Susa are also called Cissians.\"--STRABO, p. 728.\n\n[f10]\nSee p. 172, Note.\n\n[f11]\n\"They who dwell in the marshes are the most warlike of the\nEgyptians.\"--Thucyd. I. 110. ABRESCH.\n\n[f12]\n\"Tmolus, a hill overhanging Sardes, from which the famous golden-flooded\nPactolus flows.\"--STRABO, p. 625. \"Called sacred from Bacchus\nworshipped there.\"--Eurip. Bacch. 65. PAL.\n\n[f13]\nThe Hellespont; so called from Helle, the daughter of Athamas, a\ncharacter famous in the Argonautic legend.\n\n[f14]\n\"As a dragon in a hollow fiercely waiteth for a man,\nEating venomed herbs, and darkly nursing anger in his breast,\nGlaring with fierce looks of terror, as he winds him in his den.\"\n                                                        ILIAD.\n\n[f15]\n\"They who are called by the Greeks SYRIANS, are called ASSYRIANS by\nthe Barbarians.\"--HERODOT. VII. 63.\n\n[f16]\nThe bridge of boats built by Xerxes. The original \u1f00\u03bc\u03c6\u03af\u03b6\u03b5\u03c5\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\n\u03c0\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd\u03b1 \u1f00\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u1f78\u03bd \u1f04\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2  seems intelligible no other way. So\nBLOM., PAL., and BUCK., and LINW.--Compare Note 34 to the\nEumenides.\n\n[f17]\nSee Note 63 to the Choephor\u00e6.\n\n[f18]\nAttica.\n\n[f19]\n\u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03cc\u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2.--See Note 67 to Agamemnon.\n\n[f20]\nThe mines of Laurium, near the Sunian promontory. On their importance to\nthe Athenians during this great struggle with Persia, see GROTE, V. p.\n71.\n\n[f21]\n\u1f10\u03c0\u03b9 \u03c3\u03ba\u03b7\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c7\u03af\u1fb3 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c7\u03b8\u03b5\u1f76\u03c2. So the \u03c3\u03ba\u03b7\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c7\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c2 of Homer.\n\n[f22]\nPart of the shore of Salamis, called \u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03ac\u03b9\u03b1 \u1f04\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1.--SCHOL.\n\n[f23]\n\u03c3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b7\u03c1\u1fb6\u03c2 \u03bc\u03ad\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b3\u1fc6\u03c2: inest amara ironia.--BLOM.\n\n[f24]\n\u03b1\u03bb\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03c9\u03c1.\n\n[f25]\n\u1f10\u03c0\u03ad\u03c6\u03bb\u03b5\u03b3\u03b5\u03bd.\n\n[f26]\nThe captain of this ship was Ameinias, brother of \u00c6schylus.--See GROTE,\nV. 178.\n\n[f27]\nA bold expression, but used also by Euripides.--\u03bd\u03c5\u03ba\u03c4\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f44\u03bc\u03bc\u03b1\n\u03bb\u03c5\u03b3\u03ac\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2--(Iphig. Taur., 110). To Polytheists such terms were the most\nnatural things in language.\n\n[f28]\n\"As soon as the Persian fleet was put to flight, Aristides arrived with\nsome Grecian hoplites at the island of Psyttaleia, overpowered the enemy,\nand put them to death to a man.\"--GROTE.\n\n[f29]\n\"Having caused the land force to be drawn up along the shore opposite to\nSalamis, Xerxes had erected for himself a lofty seat or throne upon one\nof the projecting declivities of Mount Aegaleos, near the Heracleion,\nimmediately overhanging the sea.\"--GROTE.\n\n[f30]\n\u03b8\u03b5\u1f78\u03c2 indefinitely; a common way of talking in Homer.\n\n[f31]\nFacilis descensus Averni, etc.--VIRGIL, \u00c6neid VI.\n\n[f32]\n\u1f55\u03b2\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2--See Note 61 to Agamemnon, and Note 41 Eumenides.\n\n[f33]\nSalamis in Cyprus, from which the Grecian Salamis was a colony.\n\n[f34]\nSee p. 172, and compare p. 271.\n\n[f35]\nSee Note 63 to the Choephor\u00e6.\n\n[f36]\nSee Ezra ix. 3.\n\n[End of Footnotes]\n\n\n\nGREEK TEXTUAL NOTES\n\nThe following passages included Greek characters that were not\nsupported by Unicode at the time this ebook was prepared. The\ncharacters in question are surrounded by parentheses with the\nproper character described below.\n\n\n PREFACE\n\n \u1f40\u03c1\u03c7\u03b7\u03c3\u03c4\u03ba\u03c9\u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd (\u1f10)\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03af\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd.\n Footnote 6, page 6.\n original: smooth epsilon with circumflex\n\n\n ON THE GENIUS AND CHARACTER OF THE GREEK TRAGEDY\n\n \u0394\u03b9\u03b8\u03cd\u03c1\u03b1\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c2 (\u03bf)\u03c2 \u1f96\u03bd \u03ba\u03cd\u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c7\u03bf\u03c1\u03cc\u03c2.\n Footnote 5, page 14.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u03a4\u03cd\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd (\u1f40)\u03b9\u03b4\u03bc\u03b1 \u03bb\u03b9\u03c0\u1fe6\u03c3 \u1f14\u03b2\u03b1\u03bd.\n Page 24.\n original: smooth omicron with circumflex\n\n I read \u1f10\u03b9\u03c3\u03cc\u03b4\u1ff3, not (\u03b5)\u03be\u03cc\u03b4\u1ff3, as it is. . .\n Footnote 23, page 24.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n\n NOTES\n\n AGAMEMNON\n\n \u0392\u03c1\u03cd\u03b5\u03b9 \u1f02\u03c5\u03b8(\u03b5)\u03b9 \u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03ba\u1ff3\n Note 19, page 339.\n original: epsilon with diaeresis\n\n \u1ff6\u03c2 (\u03b5)\u03c5\u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2. . .\n Note 36, page 343.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n (\u03b5)\u03c5\u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2\n Note 36, page 343.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u1f01\u03b9\u03c1\u03ad\u03c9 2 aor (\u1f11)\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd.\n Note 57, page 348.\n original: rough epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u1f41\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd \u03c0\u03ad\u03bb\u03b1\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f08\u03b9\u03b3\u1fb6\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03c1(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c2\n Note 77, page 353.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u1f70\u03bb\u03bb \u1f10\u03c5\u03ba\u03bb\u03b5\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03bd \u03c7\u03ac\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u1ff7\n Note 82, page 354.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u03c4\u03af\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd \u1f14\u03c5\u03be\u03b1\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f00\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd(\u03b5)\u03b9\n Note 85, page 354.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u03a4\u1f70 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03ae\u03c1\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c7(\u03b5)\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u1f04\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c4\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2\n Note 97, page 357.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n\n CHOEPHOR\u00c6\n\n \u03c4\u03bf \u1f10\u03c5\u03c4\u03c5\u03c7(\u03b5)\u03af\u03bd\n Note 5, page 358.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u0394(\u03bf)\u03c5\u03bb\u03b5 \u03b4\u03b5\u03c3\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f04\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b4\u03af\u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03b1\u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1.\n Note 7, page 359.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u1f51\u03c6 (\u03b5)\u03b9\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n Note 8, page 359.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u1fcf\u0395\u03c5 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c5 \u03c6\u03b1\u03bd(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b8\u03ae\u03ba\u03b7 \u03c0\u03b5\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9.\n Note 19, page 361.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u1f51\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03cd\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c5\u03c4\u03ac\u03c2 (\u1f10)\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\n Note 61, page 370.\n original: smooth epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1\u03c5\n Note 66, page 370.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u1f0c\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f04\u03bd \u1f10\u03b9 \u03b4\u03ae. \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u1fbd \u1f02\u03c1 (\u03bf)\u03b9\u03b4 \u1f43\u03c0\u03b7 \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb(\u03b5)\u03b9.\n Note 71, page 371.\n first: smooth omicron with circumflex\n second: epsilon with circumflex\n\n (\u03b5)\u1fbd \u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03cc\u03c2\n Note 74, page 371.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n\n THE EUMENIDES\n\n \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c7\u03bb(\u03bf)\u03c5\u03bd\u03b9\u03c2\n Note 21, page 378.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u03c4\u03af\u03b8\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd (\u03bf)\u03c1\u03b8\u1f78\u03bd \u03c0\u03cc\u03b4\u03b1\n Note 27, page 378.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u03b1\u03bb\u03b1(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u03ba\u03cc\u03c3\u03b9\n Note 30, page 379.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u039c\u03ac\u03bb\u03b1 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 (\u1f40)\u03c5\u03bd\n Note 32, page 380.\n original: smooth omicron with circumflex\n\n (\u03b5)\u03c0\u03b9\u03c6\u03b8\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03cc\u03c2\n Note 32, page 380.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n into \u1f10\u03bc(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c2. . .\n Note 37, page 381.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u03bc\u03b7 \u1f50\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1 \u1f43 \u03b4\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\n Note 41, page 382.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n\n PROMETHEUS BOUND\n\n (\u03bf) \u03bb\u03c9\u03c6\u03ae\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f40\u03c5 \u03c0\u03ad\u03c6\u03c5\u03ba\u03ad \u03c0\u03c9\n Note 5, page 387.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u1f0d\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4 \u1f10\u03c0\u03c1\u03ac\u03c7\u03b8\u03b7 \u03c0\u03bb\u1f74\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\n Note 7, page 388.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u1f22 \u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03b4(\u03bf)\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd \u1f21 \u03c4\u03cd\u03c7\u03b7\u03c2\n Note 7, page 388.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u03bc\u03b7\u03b4\u03ac\u03bc \u03b8(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03c4\u1fbd \u03b5\u03bc\u1f80 \u03b3\u03bd\u03ce\u03bc\u1fb6 \u03ba\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03c4\u03af\u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\n Note 36, page 397.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u1fbd(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 or \u03bc\u03cd\u03c9\u03c8.\n Note 38, page 398.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u03c6\u03bb(\u03bf)\u03b9\u03c3\u03b2\u03bf\u03c2\n Note 45, page 400.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n\n THE SUPPLIANTS\n\n \u1f10\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u1f74\u03c2 \u03b4\u1fbd (\u03bf) \u039b\u03cd\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2\n Note 40, page 411.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n for (\u1f40)\u03c5\u03bd \u1f10\u03ba\u03bb\u03b7\u03c1\u03ce\u03b8\u03b7 \u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u1f76\n Note 54, page 414\n original: smooth omicron with circumflex\n\n\n THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES\n\n \u039c\u1f74 \u03c3\u03c0(\u03b5)\u03af\u03c1\u03b5 \u03c4\u03ad\u03ba\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u1f04\u03bb\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1. . .\n Footnote 3, page 259.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u03c6\u03cc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c2 and \u0394(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2\n Note 3, page 416.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03b4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u1fb6\u03bd (\u03bf)\u03bc\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2\n Note 29, page 421.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n \u1f40\u03c5 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba(\u03b5)\u03b9\u03bd \u1f04\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1fbd (\u1f10)\u03af\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b8\u03ad\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\n Note 35, page 422.\n first: epsilon with circumflex\n second: smooth epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u03ba\u03b5\u03c1\u03b4(\u03bf)\u03c2, i.e. \u03c4\u1f78 \u03bd\u1fe6\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5\u03b8\u03bd\u1fb6\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd,\n Note 38, page 423.\n original: omicron with circumflex\n\n\n THE PERSIANS\n\n \u03c0\u03bb\u03b1\u03b3\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 (\u03b5)\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03c0\u03bb\u03ac\u03ba\u03b5\u03c3\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd\n Note 12, page 429.\n original: epsilon with circumflex\n\n \u03bd\u03b1\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f04\u03bd\u03b1\u03b5\u03c2 (\u03b1)\u03bd\u03b1\u03b5\u03c2\n Note 26, page 432.\n original: alpha with dialytika and varia\n\n \u1f28 \u03c4\u03ac\u03c7\u03b1 \u1fcf\u0399\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 (\u03b1)\u0399\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u03af\u03c3\u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd \u1f14\u03be\u03b5\u03b9\n Note 26, page 432.\n original: alpha with diaeresis\n\n[End of Greek Textual Notes]\n\n[End of Book]","title":"The Lyrical Dramas of Aeschylus Translated into English Verse","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":148026}