Aegisthus entering from the Right Side-Door (of Neighborhood) speaks of this summons; it may after all be women's fears 'that leap up high and die away to nought.' The Chorus say there is nothing like asking. Aeg. will do so: they cannot cheat a man with his eyes open. Exit through Central Door. {839}
Chorus, in short lyric burst, mark critical moment that decides success or failure. {853}
Then cries from within, and Porter rushes from Central Door to Door of Women's Quarters (Left Inferior), loudly summoning Clytaemnestra, and when she appears informs her 'the dead are slaying the living.' She sees in a moment the truth, and is looking hurriedly for aid, when enter, from Central Door, Orestes, joined at once by Pylades and Attendants, from Right Inferior.
Orest. 'Tis thee I seek: he there has had enough. {878}
Clytaem. Ah me! my loved Aegisthus! Art thou dead?
Orest. Lov'st the man? Then in the self-same tomb
Shalt thou now lie, nor in his death desert him.
Clytaem. [baring her bosom]
Hold, boy! Respect this breast of mine, my son,
Whence thou full oft, asleep, with toothless gums,
Hast sucked the milk that sweetly fed thy life.
Orest. What shall I do, my Pylades? Shall I
Through this respect forbear to slay my mother?
Pyl. Where, then, are Loxias' other oracles,
The Pythian counsels, and the fast-sworn vows?
Have all men hostile rather than the gods.
Orest. My judgment goes with thine; thou speakest well.
[To Clytaemnestra.] Follow: I mean
to slay thee where he lies,
For while he lived thou held'st him far above
My father. Sleep thou with him in thy death,
Since thou lov'st him, and whom thou should'st love hatest.
Clytaem. I reared thee, and would fain grow old with thee.
Orest. What! Thou live with me, who did'st slay my father?
Clytaem. Fate, O my son, must share the blame of that.
Orest. This fatal doom, then, it is Fate that sends.
Clytaem. Dost thou not fear a parent's curse, my son?
Orest. Thou, though my mother, did'st to ill chance cast me.
Clytaem. No outcast thou so sent to house allied.
Orest. I was sold doubly, though of free sire born.
Clytaem. Where is the price, then, that I got for thee?
Orest. I shrink for shame from pressing that charge home.
Clytaem. Nay, tell thy father's wantonness as well.
Orest. Blame not the man that toils when thou'rt at ease.
Clytaem. 'Tis hard, my son, for wives to miss their husband.
Orest. The husband's toil keeps her that sits at home.
Clytaem. Thou seem'st, my son, about to slay thy mother.
Orest. It is not I that slay thee, but thyself.
Clytaem. Take heed, beware a mother's vengeful hounds.
Orest. How, slighting this, shall I escape my father's?
Clytaem. I seem in life to wail as to a tomb.
Orest. My father's fate ordains this doom for thee.
Clytaem. Ah me! The snake is here I bare and nursed.
Orest. An o'er-true prophet was that dread dream-born.
Thou slewest one thou never should'st have slain,
Now suffer fate should never have been thine. {916}
Exeunt Orestes and Pylades, forcing Clytaemnestra through the Central Door, their attendants remaining to guard the door. Chorus, after a word of pity for even this 'twain mischance,' break into
CHORAL INTERLUDE III
in three interwoven Strophes and Antistrophes.
Late came vengeance on Troy, late now has it blest this heaven-sent exile, and our Master's house is freed. On a lover of the war of guile has Revenge come subtle-souled, Vengeance who
Is guileful without guile,
Halting of foot and tarrying over-long;
The will of Gods is strangely over-ruled,
It may not help the vile.
At last we see the light. All-working Time with cleansing rites will purify the house; Fortune's throws shall fall with gladsome cast: at last we see the light. {959}
EXODUS, OR FINALE
Enter from Main Door Orestes and Pylades, their Attendants bearing the Corpses, and the net in which Agamemnon had been murdered.
Orestes solemnly declares that they have perished as murderers; they swore to live and die together and they have kept the oath. He bids the Attendants stretch out in full light of the Sun, the great Purifier, the fatal net, as pledge that he did his dread deed only as deed of necessary vengeance—he dwells on the cruel device—but Chorus seeing side by side the net and the slaughter by which it has been avenged, can think of nothing but the woe which its avenger by his deed of vengeance must bring on himself. Orestes reiterates the crime of which this deed is the reminder. The Chorus cannot help repeating the unhappy omen. {1009}
At this very moment Orestes changes and begins to feel the oncoming madness—while reason yet stays with him he repeats his innocence and puts on the suppliant's fillet, with which he will go to Delphi, and challenge the God who sent him on the errand to free him from its dire consequences. Madness increases, and he can see the Furies in bodily shape dark-robed, and all their long tresses entwined with serpents. In rapid dialogue the Chorus bid him cling to the idea of Apollo, and he bursts away through Distance-Door on Left to commence his long career of wanderings. The Chorus conclude:
Here, then, upon this palace of our kings
A third storm blows again;
The blast that haunts the race has run its course.
First came the wretched meal of children's flesh;
Next what befel our king:
Slain in the bath was he who ruled our host,
Of all the Achaeans lord;
And now a third has come, we know not whence,
To save . . . or shall I say,
To work a doom of death?
Where will it end? Where will it cease at last,
The mighty Atè dread,
Lulled into slumber deep?
THIRD PLAY: AFTERNOON:
THE GENTLE GODDESSES
EUMENIDES[1]
The Scene represents the Oracle of Delphi: the Central Doors being the Gate of the 'Adytum,' or Innermost shrine. From the left Inferior Door enter the Priestess of the Oracle, who stands in front of the Central Gate, to offer the Morning Prayer.
PROLOGUE
The Priestess's Prayer enumerates the Deities who have connection with the Ancient Oracle, how Apollo is its main guardian, after it has passed through many hands; other Deities have a share in it, even Zeus the Supreme Accomplisher. Praying that her divinations that day may excel even her past, she calls on the Pilgrims to come as the lot permits. {28}
Exit through the Main Gate into the Inner Shrine. In a moment she returns, pale and disordered, flinging open the Central Gates, through which can dimly be discerned dreadful forms in the Inner Shrine.
She can hardly stand for the terror of the sight she has seen; the sacred shrine polluted by the presence of a man in suppliant garb, bunch of olives and tufts of wool, his sword yet reeking with a recent murder; and sitting round about him yet more dreaded beings.
A troop {46}
Of women strange to look at sleepeth there
Before this wanderer, seated on their stools;
Not women they, but Gorgons I must call them;
Nor yet can I to Gorgon forms compare them;
I have seen painted shapes that bear away
The feast of Phineus. Wingless, though, are these,
And swarth, and every way abominable.
They snort with breath that none may dare approach,
And from their eyes a loathsome humour pours,
And such their garb as neither to the shrine
Of Gods is meet to bring, nor mortal roof.
Ne'er have I seen a race that owns this tribe,
Nor is there land can boast it rears such brood,
Unhurt and free from sorrow for its pains.
Henceforth, be it the lot of Loxias,
Our mighty lord, himself to deal with them:
True prophet-healer he, and portent-seer,
And for all others cleanser of their homes. {63}
At her word, in the entrance of the Inner Shrine appears Apollo with Hermes, and they lead Orestes out.
Apollo will never fail his suppliant; it is he who has sent sleep on these loathly Beings, born out of evils, with whom neither Gods nor men hold intercourse. They will still pursue, but he must fly to the ancient City of Pallas and clasp her statue; there 'judges of these things' and 'a means' will be found to rid him of his evils. Orestes expresses confidence in Apollo's justice, who reiterates his pledge in the name of Zeus and commits the wanderer to the charge of his own brother Hermes, the Escort-God, to take him safe to Athens. {93}
Apollo disappears into his shrine, and Hermes and Orestes leave by the Left side or Distance-door. The stage being thus left vacant, the machinery of the roller-stage brings the interior of the cave to the front, showing the sleeping Furies scattered over the floor. The Ghost of Clytaemnestra rises in front of the entrance to the Inner Shrine.
Clytaem. What ho! Sleep on! What need of sleepers now?
And I am put by you to foul disgrace
Among the other dead, nor fails reproach
Among the shades that I a murderess am;
And so in shame I wander, and I tell you
That at their hands I bear worst forms of blame.
And much as I have borne from nearest kin, {100}
Yet not one god is stirred to wrath for me,
Though done to death by matricidal hands.
See ye these heart-wounds, whence and how they came?
Yea, when it sleeps, the mind is bright with eyes;
But in the day it is man's lot to lack
All true discernment. Many a gift of mine
Have ye lapped up, libations pure from wine,
And soothing rites that shut out drunken mirth;
And I dread banquets of the night would offer
On altar-hearth, at hour no god might share.
And lo! all this is trampled under foot.
He is escaped, and flees, like fawn, away,
And even from the midst of all your toils
Has nimbly slipped, and draws wide mouth at you.
Hear ye; for I have spoken for my life;
Give heed, ye dark, earth-dwelling goddesses,
I, Clytaemnestra's phantom, call on you.
[The Erinnyes moan in their sleep.]
Moan on, the man is gone, and flees far off;
My kindred find protectors; I find none.
[Moan as before.]
Too sleep-oppressed art thou, nor pitiest me:
Orestes, murderer of his mother, 'scapes.
[Noises repeated.]
Dost snort? Dost drowse? Wilt thou not rise and speed?
What have ye ever done but work out ill?
[Noises as before.]
Yea, sleep and toil, supreme conspirators,
Have withered up the dreaded dragon's strength.
Chorus of Furies, starting up suddenly with a yell.
Seize him, {125}
Seize, seize, yea, seize: look well to it.
Clytaem. Thou, phantom-like, dost hunt thy prey and criest,
Like hound that never rests from care of toil.
What dost thou? (To one Erinnys.) Rise and let
not toil o'ercome thee,
Nor, lulled to sleep, lose all thy sense of loss.
Let thy soul (to another) feel the pain of just reproach:
The wise of heart find that their goad and spur.
And thou (to a third) breathe on him with thy
blood-flecked breath,
And with thy vapour, thy maw's fire, consume him;
Chase him, and wither with a fresh pursuit.
Leader of the Chor. Wake, wake, I say; wake her, as I wake thee.
Dost slumber? Rise, I say, and shake off sleep.
Let's see if this our prelude be in vain. {134}
The Furies start up and (still on the roller-stage) perform a Fury Dance for Prelude in three short Strophes and Antistrophes.
Our prey is gone! Apollo, ever known as a robber-god, has now delivered a matricide from his due doom. Even in my dreams a feeling of reproach stung me as a whip. Such are the doings of these 'younger gods.' See Earth's Central Shrine is stained with blood, and Apollo has taken sides with a mortal against a god; but though the god may vex them, the culprit shall not escape. {169}
Apollo, re-appearing from the Inner Shrine, threatens the Furies with his bow. He bids them leave his sacred precincts and seek scenes more fitted to them.
There where heads upon the scaffold lie,
And eyes are gouged and throats of men are cut,
Where men are maimed and stoned to death, and groan
With bitter wailing 'neath the spine impaled.
A stichomuthic contest ensues; the Furies reproach Apollo with taking the part of a matricide. He urges she had first slain her husband—they retort that husband is not kin, to which Apollo pleads the sanctity of the marriage tie; this authorized by the great example of Zeus and Hera, with its special patroness Cypris, this "assigned by Fate and guided by the Right is more than any oath." Neither party will give way; Apollo appeals to Pallas as Umpire, the Furies declare they will never desist from the pursuit. {225}
CHANGE OF SCENE
By the turning of the periacti and other mechanical changes the scene is shifted to the familiar Acropolis of Athens itself, the open Central Doors being arranged to represent the Porch of the Temple of 'Athene, Guardian of the City.' Enter by Distance side-door Orestes, who advances to the Centre and clasps the Statue of Pallas. {226}
Orestes has come as suppliant, but no longer with the stain of blood on his hands; that during his long wanderings has been by due rites washed away.
Suddenly by the same door the Furies enter upon the Stage, their faces to the ground and tracking Orestes' steps. {235}
Chorus of Furies: they have been long off the track, at last the 'dumb informer' is clear again, already they catch the loved scent of blood.—There he is clasping in confidence the statue of the Goddess, but watch, he escapes not: no trial, as he hopes, for the matricide; his own blood they must suck from his living members, and when they have had their fill of this drink undrinkable they will drag him down alive to bear the fate of a matricide. Orestes not yet perceiving them continues his prayer: long experience has taught him the various cleansing rites, and they have all been paid; he has dwelt amongst men and no impurity has been brought on them; this and all-cleansing Time show that the stain of matricide is removed, and with pure hands he can clasp Athene, queen of this land, and pledge the Argive alliance for her City [one of the political hits of the piece] if she will befriend him. The Furies suddenly spring up: Not Apollo nor Athene can save thee from thy doom! Orestes clings convulsively to the Statue. Thou resistest? then feel our spell! {296}
Chanting in marching rhythm they rapidly descend the Orchestra staircase, form about the Altar and then proceed to
CHORAL SPELL (FOR ENTRY ODE)
in four Strophes and Antistrophes.
Strophe I
O Mother who didst bear me, mother Night,
A terror of the living and the dead,
Hear me, oh hear!
The son of Leto puts me to disgrace
And robs me of my spoil,
This crouching victim for a Mother's blood:
And over him as slain,
We raise this chant of madness, frenzy-working,
The hymn the Erinnyes love,
A spell upon the soul, a lyreless strain
That withers up men's strength.
Antistrophe I
This lot the all-pervading destiny
Hath spun to hold its ground for evermore,
That we should still attend
On him on whom there rests the guilt of blood
Of kin, shed causelessly,
Till earth lie o'er him; nor shall death set free.
And over him as slain,
We raise this chant of madness, frenzy-working,
The hymn the Erinnyes love,
A spell upon the soul, a lyreless strain,
That withers up men's strength. {328}
Strophe II
Such lot was then assigned us at our birth:
From us the Undying Ones must hold aloof:
Nor is there one who shares
The banquet-meal with us;
In garments white I have nor part nor lot;
My choice was made for overthrow of homes,
Where home-bred slaughter works a loved one's death:
Ha! hunting after him,
Strong though he be, 'tis ours
To wear the newness of his young blood down.
Antistrophe II
Since 'tis our work another's task to take,
The Gods indeed may bar the force of prayers
Men offer unto me,
But may not clash in strife;
For Zeus doth cast us from his fellowship,
"Blood-dropping, worthy of his utmost hate."
For leaping down as from the topmost height,
I on my victim bring
The crushing force of feet,
Limbs that o'erthrow e'en those that swiftly run,
An Atè hard to bear. {350}
Strophe III
And fame of men, though very lofty now
Beneath the clear, bright sky,
Below the earth grows dim and fades away
Before the attack of us, the black-robed ones,
And these our dancings wild,
Which all men loathe and hate.
Antistrophe III
Falling in frenzied guilt, he knows it not;
So thick the blinding cloud
That o'er him floats; and Rumour widely spread
With many a sigh reports the dreary doom,
A mist that o'er the house
In gathering darkness broods. {358}
Strophe IV
Fixed is the law, no lack of means find we;
We work out all our will,
We, the dread Powers, the registrars of crime,
Whom mortals fail to soothe,
Fulfilling tasks dishonoured, unrevered,
Apart from all the Gods,
In foul and sunless gloom,
Driving o'er rough steep road both those that see,
And those whose eyes are dark.
Antistrophe IV
What mortal man then doth not bow in awe
And fear before all this,
Hearing from me the destined ordinance
Assigned me by the Gods?
This task of mine is one of ancient days;
Nor meet I here with scorn,
Though 'neath the earth I dwell,
And live there in the darkness thick and dense,
Where never sunbeam falls. {374}
EPISODE I
Enter in her Chariot [along the balcony of the permanent scene] Athene.
Athene has heard far off Orestes' cry, and has come in her swift chariot. What is this strange presence in her own city, and who is this suppliant? The Chorus, in parallel dialogue, explain who they are, and seek to enlist Athene against the matricide; but Athene answers she has only heard one side. Chorus rejoin that the adversary dares not rest his case on oath for oath [political allusion to procedure of ordinary Athenian Courts]; Athene thinks that a poor way of getting at truth, and as Chorus express confidence in her judgment she calls on Orestes; he details again all the rites of purification he has gone through, and how Apollo bade him do the deed. Athene pauses: Murder stirred by wrath [i.e., homicide as distinguished from murder, the special province of the Court of Areopagus] is too much for mortal or even herself to decide; but she hereby appoints jurors on oath [the special distinction of the Areopagus] as a perpetual institution for dealing with such cases. Let the parties prepare, she will return soon with the best of her citizens [observe, the Court was an Aristocratic Court] as Jurors. {467}
CHORAL INTERLUDE
in four Strophes and Antistrophes.
Unless the right cause gains here there will be an outbreak of new laws, general recklessness, and woes of slain kindred with no Furies to avenge. Awe is good as watchman of the soul, and calm Wisdom gained by sorrow; it is not the lawless life that is to be praised, but from the soul's true health comes the fair fortune, loved of all mankind and aim of many a prayer. He who reveres not the High Altar of Justice, but dareth and transgresseth all, will, perforce, as time wears on, have to take in sail,
When trouble makes him hers, and each yard-arm
Is shivered by the blast,
and in vain he struggles mid the whirling waves, ever failing to weather round the perilous promontory till he is wrecked on the reefs of Vengeance. {535}
CHANGE OF SCENE
to Mars' Hill. Enter Athene, followed by Herald and Twelve Citizens.
EXODUS, OR FINALE
Athene bids the Herald sound a summons, for the whole city is to learn the laws she makes for all time to come. Apollo enters above. The Chorus challenging his right, Apollo declares himself Witness and Advocate for Orestes. {551}
The Proceedings from this part are exactly modelled on those of the Court of the Areopagus. The Chorus called on to open, cross-examine Orestes in stichomuthic dialogue, who admits the deed, and pleads justification that she slew his father.—Cho. rejoin she has been paid by death, Orestes still lives. Why, then, Orestes enquires, did they not pursue her while alive? Chorus rest on plea that hers was not kindred blood. On this Orestes joins issue and appeals to Apollo. He answers: Though the Jurors are on oath, yet Zeus gave the oracle, and he is mightier than an oath.—Cho. What, Zeus take a matricide's part?—Apollo details the base manner of Agamemnon's murder.—Cho. taunt Apollo that Zeus himself rose by imprisoning his father.—Apollo rejoins that imprisonment is remediable, but blood once spilt can never be brought back.—Cho. appeal to impossibility of restoring such a criminal to the house he has polluted.—Then Apollo puts forth the essence of his case (in a subtle plea which would delight the litigious Athenians): the mother is only the nurse, the father is the true parent; as proof here is Pallas sprung from a Father without any Mother; none can be shown born without Father. {650}
Both parties join issue, and then (amidst intense political excitement) Athene delivers the Inauguration Address of the Court of the Areopagus.
Athene. Hear ye my order, O ye Attic people,
In act to judge your first great murder-cause.
And henceforth shall the host of Aegeus' race
For ever own this council-hall of judges:
And for this Ares' hill, the Amazons' seat
And camp when they, enraged with Theseus, came
In hostile march, and built as counterwork
This citadel high-reared, a city new,
And sacrificed to Ares, whence 'tis named
As Ares' hill and fortress: in this, I say,
The reverent awe its citizens shall own,
And fear, awe's kindred, shall restrain from wrong
By day, nor less by night, so long as they,
The burghers, alter not themselves their laws:
But if with drain of filth and tainted soil
Clear river thou pollute, no drink thou'lt find.
I give my counsel to you, citizens,
To reverence and guard well that form of State
Which is nor lawless, nor tyrannical,
And not to cast all fear from out the city;
For what man lives devoid of fear and just?
But rightly shrinking, owning awe like this,
Ye then would have a bulwark of your land,
A safeguard for your city, such as none
Boast or in Skythia's or in Pelops' clime.
This council I establish pure from bribe,
Reverend, and keen to act, for those that sleep
An ever-watchful sentry of the land. {676}
After a rapid stichomuthic interchange of promises and threats by the two parties the voting is proceeded with, Athene first giving her casting vote, in case of equality, to Orestes, as preferring the male cause. [This was a political allusion to the 'vote of Athene' or custom of the Areopagite Court to give the casting vole to the accused.] The votes are counted, found equal, and Athene declares Orestes acquitted.—Orestes, in a burst of gratitude, declares his Argive people shall always be firm friends with the people of Athens. [Political hit.] {747}
The Chorus breaking into Strophic Lyrics vow vengeance and long train of ills on the city for this, Athene (in Blank Verse) propitiating them, and pleading that the cause has been fairly tried. Moreover they would lose all the good things the city will do for them if friendly, offering them a house in its midst. Gradually the Chorus calm down, and having (in parallel dialogue) gained a repeated promise from Athene they change their tone and (in Strophic Lyrics) promise all good to the land, Athene making acknowledgment on behalf of the city (in marching rhythm as signifying exultation). Finally Athene offers to conduct them at once to their homes, the cave-chapels where the Eumenides were worshipped.
Enter on the stage an array of Matrons and Girls in festal robes, as worn in the rites of the Furies, now called Eumenides or 'Gentle Goddesses' [thus spectacular effect with which Aeschylus loved to conclude]. They, with Athene, chanting the Ritual hymn, file down into the Orchestra, and so lead the Chorus out in the direction of the Shrines of the Eumenides.
[1] Euphemism for the Furies, as the popular name 'Good Neighbours' for Mischievous Fairies.
THE ELECTRA OF SOPHOCLES[1]
Scene Mycenae; the Stage and Orchestra arranged to represent the Market Place, Portico of a Temple in the Centre; Inferior door on one side is the gate to Palace of Aegisthus and Clytaemnestra, that on the other leads to the tomb of Agamemnon; Side-scene on one side gives a view of Argos. Enter from Distance side-door Orestes, Pylades and Attendant.
PROLOGUE
The aged Attendant points out to Orestes Argos, the Grove of Io, the Temple and other details of the Scene; it was just here he received Orestes as a boy when his father was slain and bore him to a place of safety; now the long wished for day of vengeance is come. Orestes acknowledges his long fidelity; relates how Phoebus has sent him with this oracle:
That I myself unarmed with shield or host {36}
Should subtly work the righteous deed of blood,
and details his plan: the Attendant, whose age will save him from recognition, shall announce the death of Orestes, while Orestes and Pylades shall perform the rites enjoined at his father's tomb; then, when the wrong-doers believe themselves secure, the avenger will easily gain admittance. [At this moment a woman's wail is heard within.] Orestes wonders if it may be his own Electra and would stop, the Attendant hurries him away to do the God's behest. {85}
Exeunt Orestes and Pylades on left to Tomb of Agamemnon; Attendant back through the Distance side-door. Enter from Palace Electra moaning and weeping.
MONODY
Electra in Lyric Monody. The light, the air, the loathed house and bed she sleeps on, all are witnesses of her ceaseless misery and woe, orphaned as she is of a father foully slain. She calls on the Curses, the Furies and other dread Powers who watch over evil slaughter to send Orestes, she can no longer bear up with sorrow's great burden cast into the balance. {120}
Enter by the Orchestral door Chorus of Argive Maidens to condole with Electra.
LYRIC CONCERTO (FOR PARODE)
Cho. Why mourn for ever the guileful slaughter of thy Father, accursed deed?—Electra. I know your kind and tender friendship, yet will never be dissuaded.—Cho. Yet what groans and prayers can raise thy sire from the doomed pool of Hades? you go from woes bearable to woes beyond bearing.—Elec. It is weak to forget parents so lost; rather for me the nightingale that ever wails 'Itys,' or Niobe weeping in stone.—Cho. Thou art not the only one who feels sorrow: there are thy sisters, and another now mourning in a youth obscure, but who will one day return to save.—Elec. Ah! him I yearn for, but he mocks my messages, and promises yet never comes.—Cho. Take heart: Time is a calm and patient deity; trusting in Zeus you will find neither Orestes nor the God of Acheron forgetful.—Elec. Yet meanwhile the larger portion of my life is gone; orphaned, un-wed, an alien stranger I serve in the house where I was wont to reign.—Cho. Ah! that sad day! Guile devised the blow and lust struck it!—Elec. Oh, most horrible day, most horrible night! the foul banquet! the dread forms of death he met with at their accursed hands, he who was my life!—Cho. But take care: excess of grief makes you utter what may bring you into trouble.—Elec. I know, but will never cease from uttering woe on woe: leave me, I am beyond soothing, and will never pause to count my tears.—Cho. It is with pure good will, as if a mother, I beg you not to heap ills on ills.—Elec. Is misery limited? is it noble to neglect the dead? if they escape without penalty fear of the Gods will be swept from the earth. {250}
EPISODE I
Chorus now changing to Blank Verse. We meant well, but do as you will, we will follow you.—Elec. I am indeed ashamed; but remember the trouble I am in: to be hated by my mother, house-mate with my father's murderers; with Aegisthus sitting on my father's throne by day and pouring libations on the hearth he violated; my mother not living in fear of the Erinnys, but making a red-letter day of the day my father died: I, alas! keep his birth day in solitary feast. I am bitterly chidden when caught weeping, and threatened when news comes of Orestes: all hope is far.—Aegisthus is from home, or she dared not have indulged her grief even thus far. {327}
Enter her sister, Chrysothemis, bearing funeral offerings. She remonstrates with Electra for uselessly wailing, instead of adapting herself to her fate.—Elec. retorts that she has learned her lesson by rote. She advises to hate when there is strength to back hatred, yet she will not join in working revenge.—Electra covets not her choice of ease and wealth, and to be called her mother's child, while it is open to her to be her father's!—Cho. moderates: each may learn something from the other.—Chrysoth. is accustomed to Electra's want of charity and would not now have accosted her except to warn her of new evils: they mean to get her out of the country and shut up in a dungeon where she shall never see the light of day.—A rapid stichomuthic dialogue follows as to temporizing and resisting, and then Chrys. is going to do her errand.—Elec. enquires what this is, and learns that Clytaemnestra, disturbed by a dream, is sending propitiatory libations.
A rumor ran {417}
That she had seen our father's presence come
(Yes, thine and mine) a second time to light,
And then that he upon the hearth stood up,
And took the sceptre which he bore of old,
Which now Aegisthus bears, and fixed it there,
And from it sprang a sucker fresh and strong,
And all Mycenae rested in its shade.
This tale I heard from some one who was near
When she declared her vision to the Sun;
But more than this I heard not, save that she
Now sends me hither through that fright of hers.
Electra catching a gleam of hope, adjures her to disobey, and in place of Clytaemnestra's offerings to put on the tomb their own: Electra's own withered lock and untrimmed girdle; and instead of propitiatory prayer pray to send Orestes.—Cho. approves and Chrysothemis catches the spirit and exit. {471}
CHORAL INTERLUDE I
in Strophe, Antistrophe and Epode.
If my mind misleads me not, Vengeance is coming with hands that bear the might of Righteousness; a new courage springs through my veins at these propitious dreams, that Agamemnon will not forget for aye, nor the axe that slew him. She too is coming, Erinnys shod with brass, dread form with many a foot and many a hand: never will the boding sign come falsely to those who did the deed, or men will find no prophecies in dreams.—Ah dreadful chariot race of Pelops, foundation of all the ills which have never since left the house. {315}
EPISODE II
Enter from Palace Clytaemnestra and Attendant.—Clyt. It is Aegisthus' absence that makes you bold enough to appear outside the Palace and disgrace us. I know your reproaches: but it was Justice, not I, that slew your father; what right had he to slay my child, born of my travails, and not some other Argive children, Menelaus's for example, whose the quarrel was? Had Hades a special lust to feed on my children?—Elec. This time at least it is not I who begin. I could reply if permitted.—Clyt. permits.—Elec. You admit the monstrous admission, that you slew your husband—for justice sake? or for the 'coward base' who is your paramour? You well know that the offence for which Artemis demanded the sacrifice was Agamemnon's slaughter of the Sacred Stag, and from his seed therefore the atonement must come which so unwillingly he made. And if not, is your plea blood for blood? then you will be the first to suffer. How can you plead thus while living in open guilt with him who slew your husband? It is a cruel mistress, not a mother, I revile: you charge me with rearing Orestes as minister of vengeance, I would indeed if I had strength! So proclaim me a monster, that will make me a fitting daughter of my mother.—Cho. Here is passion rather than care to speak right.—Clyt. Thus to show scorn for her mother! she will go all lengths and feel no shame.—Elec. Shame I do feel, but the deeds which beget the shame are yours.—Clyt. By Artemis, you shall pay for this when Aegisthus comes!—Elec. I thought I had leave to speak.—Clyt. Will you not be silent and let me perform my rites without disorder?—Elec. Now I am silent (Retires).—Clyt. then proceeds to offer her gifts to Phoebus, with prayer to avert the ill omen of the past night: as her prayer "is not amongst friends," she can allude but darkly to all she means, but He is a God and will understand all she leaves unsaid. {659}
Enter by the Distance-door Attendant of Orestes.
Enquiring of Chorus he finds he is arrived before the people he is seeking, and announces to Clytaemnestra that Orestes is dead. Electra utters a wail of agony, while Clyt. asks for particulars. Then follows the regular 'Messenger's Speech,' a detailed and graphic account of a chariot race, in which he was thrown and killed.—Clyt. trembles between joy at deliverance from her suspense, and a touch of motherly feeling; still she triumphs over the now hopeless Electra: for him, what is is well.
Elec. Hear this, thou Power avenging him who died! Clyt. Right well she heard, and what she heard hath wrought.
The Messenger is taken into the Palace, Electra left to wail without, with attempt of Chorus to condole (lyric concerto). {870}
Enter from Tomb of Agamemnon Chrysothemis jubilant and bearing a lock of hair of Orestes.
She eagerly insists that Orestes is come; shows the lock and describes the libations that no other would pour on that tomb. Bit by bit Electra checks her joy, and informs her of the news. They mourn together, till Electra breaks out with proposal, that since their friends are snatched from them, and they two are left alone, they shall themselves work their revenge; that will be the safest and will bring glory: 'the sisters twain who saved their father's house.'—Chor. This requires consideration.—Chry. Will you never learn that you are a woman and not a man? Elec. then declares she will do it herself, and after a stichomuthic contest exit Chrysothemis. {1057}
CHORAL INTERLUDE II
In two Strophes and Antistrophes.
The storks show a pattern of filial piety: why do not men follow it? By Zeus and Themis there is a punishment for the unfilial; may the voice crying for vengeance reach the sons of Atreus below! Their house is full of woe; Electra, alone faithful, is ready to face death if only she may destroy the twin furies. The great and good will purchase glory with life; so may'st thou prevail and gain the name of the best of daughters. {1096}
EPISODE III
Enter from Distance-door Orestes, Pylades and Attendants.
Orestes informs the Chorus, and Electra as one of the household, that they bear the urn containing the ashes of Orestes, whose death they had sent forward a messenger to announce. Electra begs to clasp the urn and pours over it a flood of grief; here is nothingness to represent the dear boy she sent out in bloom of youth; and all her forethought has perished! And he died amid strangers without her to take part in the funeral rites! All her sweet toil in nursing him with more than mother's love is gone! All is gone—father, mother, brother! She would go too; they ever shared an equal lot; now let her go to him, ashes to ashes! {1170}
Chor. Thou, O Electra, take good heed, wast born Of mortal father; mortal, too, Orestes, Yield not too much to sorrow. Ores. [Trembling.] Woe is me. What shall I say? Ah, whither find my way, In words that have no issue? for I fail In strength to curb my speech. Elec. What sorrow now Disturbs thee? Wherefore art thou speaking thus? Ores. Is this Electra's noble form I see? Elec. That self-same form indeed, in piteous case. Ores. Alas, alas, for this sad lot of thine. Elec. Surely thou dost not wail, O friend, for me! Ores. O form most basely, godlessly misused. Elec. Thy words, ill-omened, fall, O friend, on none But me alone. Ores. Alas, for this thy state, Unwedded, hopeless. Elec. Why, O friend, on me With such fixed glance still gazing dost thou groan? Ores. How little knew I of my fortune's ills! Elec. What have I said to throw such light on them? Ores. Now that I see thee thus, with many woes Clothed as a garment. Elec. Yet thou dost but see A few of all my evils. Ores. What could be More sad than these to look on? Elec. This, to live And sit at meat with murderers. Ores. With whose? What evil dost thou indicate by this? Elec. My father's; 'tis to them, against my will I live in bondage. Ores. Who constrains thee, then? Elec. My mother she is called; and yet in nought Is she what mother should be. Ores. In what acts? By blows and stripes, or this unseemly life? Elec. Both blows, unseemly life, and all vile deeds. Ores. And is there none to help? Not one to check? Elec. No, none. Who was . . . thou buryest him as dust. Ores. O sad one! How I pitied thee long since. Elec. Know, then, thou art the only pitying one. {1200} Ores. For I alone am hurt by these thy woes. Elec. Surely thou dost not come by line of blood Connected with us. Ores. I could tell thee all, Were these thy friends. Elec. Most friendly are they; speak As unto faithful hearers. Ores. Put away That urn awhile that thou may'st hear the whole. Elec. Ah! By the Gods, O stranger, ask not that. Ores. Do what I bid thee, and thou shalt not err. Elec. Now, by thy beard, deprive me not of that I hold most dear. Ores. I say it cannot be. Elec. Ah me, Orestes, wretched shall I be, Bereaved of this thy tomb. Ores. Hush, hush such words; Thou has no cause for wailing. Elec. Have no cause! Do I not wail my brother, who is dead? Ores. Thou hast no call to utter speech like this. Elec. And am I so dishonoured by the dead? Ores. By none art thou dishonoured. But this thing Is nought to thee. Elec. And yet it needs must be, If 'tis Orestes' body that I bear. Ores. Except in show of speech it is not his. Elec. Where, then, is that poor exile's sepulchre? Ores. Of those that live there is no sepulchre. {1219} Elec. What say'st thou, boy? Ores. No falsehood what I say. Elec. And does he live? Ores. He lives, if I have life. Elec. What, art thou he? Ores. Look thou upon this seal, My father's once, and learn if I speak truth. Elec. O blessed day! Ores. Most blessed, I too own. Elec. O voice! And art thou come? Ores. No longer learn That news from others. Elec. And I have thee here, Here in my grasp! Ores. So may'st thou always have me. Elec. O dearest friends, my fellow-citizens, Look here on this Orestes, dead indeed In feigned craft, and by that feigning saved. Chor. We see it, daughter; and at what has chanced A tear of gladness trickles from our eyes. {1231}
A passionate dialogue (in mixed verse: Electra, speaking lyrics, Orestes Blank Verse) of exultation and weeping succeeds: until finally Orestes is calling back their thoughts to the plans of vengeance when enter from Palace Attendant of Orestes, who chides them for their loud joy, which he has barely been able to prevent from reaching the ears of Clytaemnestra. Electra is informed who this attendant is, and joyfully recognizes him and calls him father for his faithfulness. He cuts conversation short and hurries Orestes and Pylades within. Electra with a prayer retires. {1383}
CHORAL INTERLUDE III
Short expression of the sense of a critical moment: Strophe, Ares and the Avengers are on their way—Antistrophe, they have passed beneath the roof-tree. {1397}
EXODUS, OR FINALE
Electra rushes out to stand on guard against Aegisthus while vengeance is being done on Clytaemnestra.—Cries from within; Electra and Chorus perceive that the deed is done.—Enter Orestes and Pylades from the Palace red-handed; they are about to triumph when Electra thrusts them back, for Aegisthus is at hand.—Enter Aegisthus enquiring for the strangers of Electra. {1442}
Aegis. Where are the strangers, then? Tell this to me.
Elec. Within; for they have found a loving hostess.
Aegis. And did they say distinctly he was dead?
Elec. Ah no! they showed it, not in words alone.
Aegis. And is it here, that we may see it plain?
Elec. 'Tis here, a sight most pitiful to see.
Aegis. Against thy wont thou giv'st me cause for joy.
Elec. Thou may'st rejoice, if this be ground of joy.
Aegis. I hid you hush, and open wide the gates
That all of Argos and Mycenae see,
So if there be that once were lifted up
With hopes they had, vain hopes they fixed on him,
Now seeing him dead, they may receive my curb,
And finding me their master, sense may gain
Without coercion.
Elec. And that end is reached
By me; for I by time have wisdom gained,
To yield to those more mighty.
The doors are thrown open, and disclose Orestes and Pylades standing by the dead body of Clytaemnestra, which is covered with a sheet and a veil over the face.
Aegis. Lo, I see,
O Zeus, a sight that comes right well for me.
(Without offence I say it; should it move
The wrath divine, I wish it all unsaid.)
Withdraw the veil which hides the face, that I
To kindred blood may pay the meed of tears.
Ores. Do thou uplift it. 'Tis thy task not mine,
To look on this, and kindly words to speak.
Aegis. Thou giv'st good counsel, and I list to thee,
And thou, if yet she tarries in the house,
Call Clytaemnestra.
Ores. (as Aegisthus lifts the veil) Here she lies before thee,
Seek her not elsewhere, {1474}
Aegis. Oh what sight is this!
Ores. Whom fearest thou? Who is't thou dost not know?
Aegis. Into whose snares, whose closely-tangled mesh
Have I, poor victim, fallen?
Ores. Saw'st thou not
Long since that thou didst speak to them that live
As they were dead?
Aegis. Ah me! I catch thy words.
It needs must be that he who speaks to me
Is named Orestes.
Ores. Wert thou then deceived,
Thou excellent diviner?
Aegis. Woe is me!
I perish, yet permit me first to speak
One little word.
Elec. Give him no leave to speak,
By all the gods, my brother, nor to spin
His long discourse. When men are plunged in ills
What gain can one who stands condemned to die
Reap from delay? No, slay him out of hand;
And, having slain him, cast him forth, to find
Fit burial at their hands from whom 'tis meet
That he should have it, far away from view.
Thus only shall I gain a remedy
For all the evils of the years gone by.
Ores. [To Aegisthus.] Go thou within, and quickly.
Now our strife
Is not of words, but for thy life itself.
Aegis. Why dost thou force me in? If this be right,
What need of darkness? Why not slay at once?
Ores. Give thou no orders, but where thou did'st slay
My father go, that thou too there may'st die.
Aegis. Truly the doom is fixed, this house should see
The ills that on the house of Pelops fall,
Or present, or to come.
Ores. Yes, those that fall
On thee: of these I am a prophet true.
Aegis. Thou boastest of a skill which he had not—
Thy father.
Ores. Still thou bandiest many words,
And length'nest out the way. Move on.
Aegis. Lead thou.
Ores. Not so, thou must go first.
Aegis. Dost think I'll flee?
Ores. Thou must not die the death thou would'st desire.
I needs must make it utter. Doom like this
Should fall on all who dare transgress the laws,
The doom of death. Then wickedness no more
Would multiply its strength.
Chor. O seed of Atreus, after many woes,
Thou hast come forth, thy freedom hardly won,
By this emprise made perfect!
[1] The quotations of Sophocles are (mostly) from Plumptre's translation.
THE ELECTRA OF EURIPIDES[1]
PROLOGUE
The Scene is in front of a Peasant's Cottage: the Centre is the door of the Cottage, the scene on the two sides of it represents the ways to fields and to the river. Time: early Morning, the stars still shining.
Enter from the Cottage the Peasant on his way to his day's work. In the form of a Morning Prayer to the stream Inachus, he makes known the situation of affairs, the murder of Agamemnon, etc.—and in particular how Aegisthus, fearing lest some nobleman might marry Electra and be her avenger, had forced her into wedlock with himself, a peasant, honest but in the lowest poverty. But he is too good a friend to his master's house and to the absent Orestes to wrong Electra; he has been a husband only in name, to give her the shelter of his humble roof. Enter Electra from the Cottage with a watering pot: not seeing the Peasant she in a similar soliloquy announces that she is on her way to the river to prosecute her unnatural toil.
Peas. Why will thou thus, unhappy lady, toil
For my sake bearing labours, nor desist
At my desire? Not thus hast thou been train'd.
Elec. Thee equal to the gods I deem my friend,
For in my ills thou hast not treated me
With insult. In misfortunes thus to find
What I have found in thee, a gentle pow'r,
Lenient of grief, must be a mighty source
Of consolations. It behoves me then,
Far as my pow'r avails, to ease thy toils,
That lighter thou may'st feel them, and to share
Thy labour, though unbidden; in the fields
Thou hast enough of work; be it my task
Within to order well. The lab'rer tired
Abroad, with pleasure to his house returns.
Accustom'd all things grateful there to find.
Peas. Go then, since such thy will; nor distant far
The fountain from the house. At the first dawn
My bullocks yoked I to the field will drive,
And sow my furrows; for no idle wretch
With the gods always in the mouth can gain
Without due labour the support of life. {95}
Stage vacant a moment. Then enter by Distance-door Orestes and Pylades.
Orestes in conversation with his friend makes known he is come by divine command to avenge his father's death: he has fulfilled the god's first charge to present offerings on his father's tomb; the second is that he must not enter the walls of the city; thus he wishes to find his sister—now, as he hears, wedded to a peasant!—and consult—they step aside as they see one whom 'female slave her tresses show' approaching. {127}
Re-enter Electra with her water-pot filled: and in a Monody (strophe, antistrophe and epode) laments her situation: laments for her lost father, her brother afar off, in servitude it may be: and adjures her father's spirit to send vengeance. {187}
PARODE JOINING ON TO EPISODE I
Enter the Orchestra Chorus of Maidens of Mycenae, and in dialogue (two Strophes and Antistrophes) beg Electra to join them in an approaching festival, as she had been wont in happier days.—Electra declares she is fit for tears and rags, not for festivities.—As for rags they will find her the festal robes; and vows, instead of tears may gain the goddess's help.—No god, says Electra, has an ear for the wretched, and in wretched toil and obscure retreat her life is wasting away.—A sob from the concealed Orestes startles them, and they are about to flee, when Orestes and Pylades discover themselves and reassure them. With difficulty he restrains his emotions throughout a long conversation, personating a messenger from himself to Electra.
Ores. Bearing thy brother's words to thee I come. {251} Elec. Most welcome: breathes he yet this vital air? Ores. He lives: I first would speak what brings thee joy. Elec. Oh be thou blest for these most grateful words! Ores. To both in common this I give to share. Elec. Where is th' unhappy outcast wand'ring now? Ores. He wastes his life not subject to one state. Elec. Finds he with toil what life each day requires? Ores. Not so; but mean the wand'ring exile's state. Elec. But with what message art thou from him charg'd? Ores. T' inquire, if living, where thou bear'st thy griefs. Elec. First then observe my thin and wasted state. Ores. Wasted with grief, so that I pity thee. Elec. Behold my head, its crisped honours shorn. Ores. Mourning thy brother, or thy father dead? Elec. What can be dearer to my soul than these? Ores. Alas! What deem'st thou are thy brother's thoughts? Elec. He, though far distant, is most dear to me. Ores. Why here thy dwelling from the city far? Elec. O, stranger, in base nuptials I am join'd— Ores. I feel thy brother's grief!—To one of rank? Elec. Not as my father once to place me hop'd— Ores. That hearing I may tell thy brother, speak. Elec. This is his house: in this I dwell remote. Ores. This house some digger or some herdsman suits. Elec. Generous, though poor, in reverence me he holds. Ores. To thee what reverence doth thy husband pay? Elec. He never hath presumed t' approach my bed.
The conversation is prolonged, bringing out for the benefit of the Strangers and the Chorus the whole of Electra's troubles, and how her father's blood is crying for vengeance.
Elec. The monarch's tomb
Unhonoured, nor libations hath receiv'd,
Nor myrtle bough, no hallow'd ornament
Hath dignified the pyre. Inflamed with wine,
My mother's husband, the illustrious lord,
For so they call him, trampled on the earth
Insultingly where Agamemnon lies,
And hurling 'gainst his monument a stone,
Thus taunts us with proud scorn, "Where is thy son,
"Orestes where? right noble is thy tomb
"Protected by his presence." Thus he mocks
The absent; but, O stranger, tell him this
Suppliant I beg thee. {371}
Enter unexpectedly the Peasant. On hearing that these strangers are messengers from Orestes, he instantly calls for refreshments to be brought, and begs the stranger to delay no longer to enter the cottage: poverty must be no excuse for not offering what hospitality he has.—A burst of admiration is drawn from Orestes. {400}
Ores. Nature hath giv'n no outward mark to note
The generous mind; the qualities of men
To sense are indistinct. I oft have seen
One of no worth a noble father shame,
And from vile parents worthy children spring,
Meanness oft grov'lling in the rich man's mind,
And oft exalted spirits in the poor.
How then discerning shall we judge aright?
By riches? ill would they abide the test.
By poverty? on poverty awaits
This ill, through want it prompts to sordid deeds.
Shall we pronounce by arms? but who can judge
By looking on the spear the dauntless heart?
Such judgment is fallacious; for this man,
Nor great among the Argives, nor elate
With the proud honours of his house, his rank
Plebeian, hath approv'd his liberal heart.
Will you not then learn wisdom, you whose minds
Error with false presentments leads astray?
Will you not learn by manners and by deeds
To judge the noble? Such discharge their trust
With honour to the state and to their house.
Mere flesh without a spirit is no more
Than statues in the forum; nor in war
Doth the strong arm the dang'rous shock abide
More than the weak; on nature this depends
And an intrepid mind. But we accept
Thy hospitable kindness; for the son
Of Agamemnon, for whose sake we come,
Present or not is worthy to this house.
Go, my attendants, I must enter it;
This man, though poor, more cheerful than the rich
Receives me; to his kindness thanks are due.
More would it joy me if thy brother, blest
Himself, could lead me to his prosperous house:
Yet haply he may come; th' oracular voice
Of Phoebus firmly will be ratified:
Lightly of human prophecies I deem. {438}
[Orestes and his attendants enter the house.]
Electra is in a quandary at the idea of people of such rank being invited into her humble cottage.
Peas. Why not? If they are noble, as their port Denotes them, will they not alike enjoy Contentment, be their viands mean or rich?
The only device Electra can think of is to send to an old servant of her father's house—the same who, as Tutor, preserved the child Orestes on the fatal night—now an aged herdsman forced to hide himself in obscurity, and ask him to help them in this emergency. Exit Peasant to the fields to find the old Tutor; Electra into the cottage. {474}
CHORAL INTERLUDE I
apostrophises the array of ships that went to the Trojan war, the great chiefs who commanded, especially Achilles, whose shield they have seen, with its Gorgons, and Sphinxes, and Hermes in flight, and other wondrous figures—suddenly at the end connects itself with the subject of the play by the thought: it was the Prince who commanded heroes like these that a wicked wife dared to slay! {530}
EPISODE II
Enter from the fields the Aged Tutor, tottering under the weight of a kid and other viands, clad in rags, and in tears. Electra wonders why he weeps: to mourn for Agamemnon or Orestes is surely now to mourn in vain.
Tut. In vain; but this my soul could not support; {553}
For to his tomb as on the way I came,
I turned aside, and falling on the ground,
Alone and unobserved, indulg'd my tears;
Then of the wine, brought for thy stranger guests,
Made a libation, and around the tomb
Plac'd myrtle branches; on the pyre I saw
A sable ewe, yet fresh the victim's blood,
And clust'ring auburn locks shorn from some head;
I marvell'd, O my child, what man had dar'd
Approach the tomb, for this no Argive dares.
Perchance with secret step thy brother came
And paid these honors to his father's tomb.
But view these locks, compare them with thine own,
Whether like thine their color; nature loves
In those who from one father draw their blood
In many points a likeness to preserve.
Elec. Unworthy of a wise man are thy words,
If thou canst think that to Mycenae's realms
My brother e'er with secret step will come,
Fearing Aegisthus. Then between our locks
What can th' agreement be? To manly toils
He in the rough Palaestra hath been train'd,
Mine by the comb are soften'd; so that hence
Nothing may be inferr'd. Besides, old man,
Tresses like-color'd often may'st thou find
Where not one drop of kindred blood is shar'd.
Tut. Trace but his footsteps, mark th' impression, see
If of the same dimensions with thy feet.
Elec. How can th' impression of his foot be left
On hard and rocky ground? But were it so,
Brother and sister never can have foot
Of like dimensions: larger is the man's.
Tut. But hath thy brother, should he come, no vest
Which thou wouldst know, the texture of thy hands,
In which when snatch'd from death he was array'd?
Elec. Know'st thou not, when my brother from this land
Was saved, I was but young? But were his vests
Wrought by my hands, then infant as he was,
How could he now in his maturer age
Be in the same array'd, unless his vests
Grew with his person's growth? No, at the tomb
Some stranger, touch'd with pity, sheared his locks,
Or native, by the tyrant's spies unmark'd.
Tut. Where are these strangers? I would see them: much
Touching thy brother wish I to inquire.
Elec. See, from the house with hast'ning step they come. {599}
Re-enter Orestes and Pylades: Conversation in which the aged Tutor eyes him curiously all over, and declares he is Orestes—general recognition and burst of joy.—Then they turn to vengeance, and in stichomuthic dialogue lay their plans. Aegisthus, the Tutor says, is to come to a neighboring field to celebrate a sacrifice; they lay a plan for Orestes and Pylades to gain admission as travellers and kill him in the moment of sacrifice. As to Clytaemnestra: a report is prevalent in the palace that Electra has given birth to a child; they conspire to give currency to the report and invite Clytaemnestra to perform the ten days' rite: once in the house, Orestes will do the dreadful deed; they tremble at their horrid tasks, but their father must be avenged.—Exeunt Orestes and, his Attendants to the fields; and Electra to the Cottage begging the Chorus, who are privy to all this as confidential friends, to keep watch and summon her if news comes. {763}
CHORAL INTERLUDE II
Strophe 1. The Argive mountains round,
'Mongst tales of ancient days
From age to age recorded this remains:
Tuned to mellifluous lays,
Pan taught his pipe to sound,
And as he breath'd the sprightly-swelling strains,
The beauteous ram, with fleece of gold,
God of shepherds, on he drove.
The herald from the rock above
Proclaims, "Your monarch's wonders to behold,
"Wonders to sight, from which no terrors flow,
"Go, Mycenaeans, to th' assembly go."
With reverence they obey the call,
And fill th' Atridae's spacious hall.
Antis. Its gates with gold o'erlaid,
Wide oped each Argive shrine,
And from the altar hallow'd flames arise;
Amidst the rites divine,
Joying the Muse to aid,
Breath'd the brisk pipe its sweet notes to the skies;
Accordant to the tuneful strain
Swell'd the loud acclaiming voice,
Now with Thyestes to rejoice:
He, all on fire the glorious prize to gain,
With secret love the wife of Atreus won,
And thus the shining wonder made his own;
Then to the assembly vaunting cried,
"Mine is the rich Ram's golden pride."