EL.
Oh! can it be that you are come to bring
Clear proofs of the sad rumour we have heard?
OR.
I know not what ye have heard. Old Strophius
Charged me with tidings of Orestes’ fate.
EL. What, stranger? How this terror steals on me!
OR.
Bearing scant remnants of his body dead
In this small vase thou seest, we bring them home.
EL.
O sorrow! thou art here: I see full well
That burden of my heart in present view.
OR.
If thou hast tears for aught Orestes suffered,
Know that he lies within this vessel’s room.
EL.
Ah, sir! by all in Heaven, if yonder urn
Hide him, ah! give it once into my hand,
That o’er that dust I may lament and mourn
Myself and mine own house and all our woe!
OR.
Bring it and give her, whosoe’er she be.
[page 162][1124-1163]
For not an enemy—this petition shows it—
But of his friends or kindred, is this maid.
[The urn is given into ELECTRA’S hands
EL.
O monument of him whom o’er all else
I loved! sole relic of Orestes’ life,
How cold in this thy welcome is the hope
Wherein I decked thee as I sent thee forth!
Then bright was thy departure, whom I now
Bear lightly, a mere nothing, in my hands.
Would I had gone from life, ere I dispatched
Thee from my arms that saved thee to a land
Of strangers, stealing thee from death! For then
Thou hadst been quiet on that far off day,
And had thy portion in our father’s tomb
Now thou hast perished in the stranger land
Far from thy sister, lorn and comfortless
And I, O wretchedness! neither have bathed
And laid thee forth, nor from the blazing fire
Collected the sad burden, as was meet
But thou, when foreign hands have tended thee
Com’st a small handful in a narrow shell
Woe for the constant care I spent on thee
Of old all vainly, with sweet toil! For never
Wast thou thy mother’s darling, nay, but mine,
And I of all the household most thy nurse,
While ‘sister, sister,’ was thy voice to me
But now all this is vanished in one day,
Dying in thy death. Thou hast carried all away
As with a whirlwind, and art gone. No more
My father lives, thyself art lost in death,
I am dead, who lived in thee. Our enemies
Laugh loudly, and she maddens in her joy,
Our mother most unmotherly, of whom
Thy secret missives ofttimes told me, thou
Wouldst be the punisher. But that fair hope
The hapless Genius of thy lot and mine
Hath reft away, and gives thee thus to me,—
For thy loved form thy dust and fruitless shade
O bitterness! O piteous sight! Woe! woe!
Oh! sent on thy dire journey, dearest one,
[page 163][1164-1197]
How thou hast ruined me! Thou hast indeed,
Dear brother! Then receive me to thyself,
Hide me in this thy covering, there to dwell,
Me who am nothing, with thy nothingness,
For ever! Yea, when thou wert here above,
I ever shared with thee in all, and now
I would not have thee shut me from thy tomb.
Oh! let me die and follow thee! the dead,
My mind assures me now, have no more pain.
CH.
Electra, think! Thou hadst a mortal sire,
And mortal was thy brother. Grieve not far.
OR.
O me! What shall I speak, or which way turn
The desperate word? I cannot hold my tongue.
EL. What pain o’ercomes thee? Wherefore speak’st thou so?
OR. Can this be famed Electra I behold?
EL. No other. In sad case, as you may see
OR. Ah! deep indeed was this calamity!
EL. Is’t possible that thou shouldst grieve for me?
OR. O ruined form! abandoned to disgrace!
EL. ’Tis me you mean, stranger, I feel it now.
OR. Woe ’s me! Untrimmed for bridal, hapless maid!
EL. Why this fixed gaze, O stranger! that deep groan?
OR. How all unknowing was I of mine ill!
EL. What thing hath passed to make it known to thee?
OR. The sight of thee attired with boundless woe.
EL. And yet thine eye sees little of my pain.
OR. Can aught be still more hateful to be seen?
EL. I have my dwelling with the murderers—
OR. Of whom? What evil would thy words disclose?
EL. Of him who gave me birth. I am their slave.
OR. Whose power compels thee to this sufferance?
EL. One called my mother, most unmotherly.
OR. How? by main force, or by degrading shames?
EL. By force and shames, and every kind of evil.
OR. And is there none to succour or prevent?
EL. None. Him I had, you give me here in dust.
[page 164][1199-1229] OR. How mine eye pities thee this while, poor maid!
EL. Know now, none ever pitied me but you.
OR. None ever came whose heart like sorrow wrung.
EL. Is’t possible we have some kinsman here?
OR. I will tell it, if these women here be friendly.
EL. They are. They may be trusted. Only speak.
OR. Let go yon vase, that thou may’st learn the whole.
EL. Nay, by the Gods! be not so cruel, sir!
OR. Obey me and thou shalt not come to harm.
EL. Ah, never rob me of what most I love!
OR. You must not hold it.
EL.
O me miserable
For thee, Orestes, if I lose thy tomb!
OR. Speak no rash word. Thou hast no right to mourn.
EL. No right to mourn my brother who is gone?
OR. Such utterance belongs not to thy tongue,
EL. Oh, am I thus dishonoured of the dead?
OR. Far from dishonour. But this ne’er was thine.
EL. Is’t not Orestes’ body that I bear?
OR. Nay, but the idle dressing of a tale.
EL. And where is his poor body’s resting-place?
OR. Nowhere. Seek not the living with the dead,
EL. My son, what saidst thou?
OR. Nought but what is true.
EL. Doth he yet live?
OR. If I have life in me.
EL. Art thou Orestes?
OR.
Let my signet here,
That was our father’s, tell thine eyes, I am.
EL. O day of days!
OR. Time hath no happier hour.
EL. Is it thy voice?
OR. Hearken not otherwhere.
EL. Have my arms caught thee?
OR. Hold me so for aye!
EL.
O dearest women, Argives of my home!
Ye see Orestes, dead in craft, but now
By that same craft delivered and preserved.
[page 165][1230-1270]
CH.
We see, dear daughter, and the gladsome tear
Steals from our eye to greet the bright event.
EL.
Offspring of him I loved beyond all telling!I 1
Ah! thou art come,—hast found me, eye to eye
Behold’st the face thou didst desire to see.
OR. True, I am here; but bide in silence still.
EL. Wherefore?
OR. Hush! speak not loud, lest one within should hearken.
EL.
By ever-virgin Artemis, ne’er will I
Think worthy of my fear
This useless mass of woman-cowardice
Burdening the house within,
Not peering out of door.
OR.
Yet know that women too have might in war.
Of that methinks thou hast feeling evidence.
EL.
Ah me! thou hast unveiled
And thrust before my gaze
That burning load of my distress
No time will soothe, no remedy will heal.
OR.
I know that too. But when we are face to face
With the evildoers,—then let remembrance work.
EL.
All times alike are fit with instant painI 2
Justly to mind me of that dreadful day;
Even now but hardly hath my tongue been free.
OR. Yes, that is it. Therefore preserve this boon.
EL. Whereby?
OR. Put limits to unseasonable talk.
EL.
Ah! brother, who, when thou art come,
Could find it meet to exchange
Language for silence, as thou bidst me do?
Since beyond hope or thought
Was this thy sight to me.
OR. God gave me to your sight when so he willed.
EL.
O heaven of grace beyond
The joy I knew but now!
If God hath brought thee to our roof,
A miracle of bounty then is here.
[page 166]
[]1271-1304
OR.
I hate to curb the gladness of thy spirit,
But yet I fear this ecstasy of joy.
EL.
Oh! after all these years,II
Now thou at length hast sped
Thy dearest advent on the wished-for way,
Do not, in all this woe
Thou seest surrounding me—
OR. What means this prayer?
EL.
Forbid me not my joy,
Nor make me lose the brightness of thy face!
OR. Deep were my wrath at him who should attempt it.
EL. Is my prayer heard?
OR. Why doubt it?
EL.
Friends, I learned
A tale beyond my thought; and hearing I restrained
My passion, voiceless in my misery,
Uttering no cry. But now
I have thee safe; now, dearest, thou art come,
With thy blest countenance, which I
Can ne’er forget, even at the worst of woe.
OR.
A truce now to unnecessary words.
My mother’s vileness and Aegisthus’ waste,
Draining and squandering with spendthrift hand
Our patrimony, tell me not anew.
Such talk might stifle opportunity.
But teach me, as befits the present need,
What place may serve by lurking vigilance
Or sudden apparition to o’erwhelm
Our foes in the adventure of to-day.
And, when we pass within, take heedful care
Bright looks betray thee not unto our mother.
But groan as for the dire calamity
Vainly reported:—Let’s achieve success,
Then with free hearts we may rejoice and laugh.
EL.
Dear brother, wheresoe’er thy pleasure leads,
My will shall follow, since the joys I know,
Not from myself I took them, but from thee.
And ne’er would I consent thy slightest grief
[page 167][1305-1342]
Should win for me great gain. Ill should I then
Serve the divinity of this high hour!
Thou knowest how matters in the palace stand.
Thou hast surely heard, Aegisthus is from home,
And she, our mother, is within. Nor fear
She should behold me with a smiling face.
Mine ancient hate of her hath sunk too deep.
And from the time I saw thee, tears of joy
Will cease not. Wherefore should I stint their flow?
I, who in this thy coming have beheld
Thee dead and living? Strangely hast thou wrought
On me;—that should my father come alive,
I would not think the sight were miracle,
But sober truth. Since such thy presence, then,
Lead as thy spirit prompts. For I alone
Of two things surely had achieved one,
Noble deliverance or a noble death.
OR.
Be silent; for I hear within the house
A footstep coming forth.
EL.
(loudly).
Strangers, go in!
For none within the palace will reject
Your burden, nor be gladdened by the event.
Enter the Old Man.
OLD M.
O lost in folly and bereft of soul!
Is’t that your care for life hath ebbed away,
Or were you born without intelligence,
When fallen, not near, but in the midst of ill,
And that the greatest, ye perceive it not?
Had I not watched the doors this while, your deeds
Had gone within the palace ere yourselves.
But, as things are, my care hath fenced you round.
Now, then, have done with long-protracted talk,
And this insatiable outburst of joy,
And enter, for in such attempts as these
Delay is harmful: and ’tis more than time.
OR. But how shall I find matters there within?
OLD M. Well. You are shielded by their ignorance.
OR. That means you have delivered me as dead.
OLD M. Alone of dead men thou art here above.
[page 168][1343-1375] OR. Doth this delight them, or how went the talk?
OLD M.
I will report, when all is done. Meanwhile,
Know, all is well with them, even what is evil.
EL. Who is this, brother? I beseech thee, tell.
OR. Dost not perceive?
EL. I cannot even imagine.
OR. Know’st not into whose hands thou gav’st me once?
EL. Whose hands? How say you?
OR.
His, who through thy care
Conveyed me secretly to Phocis’ plain.
EL.
What! is this he, whom I, of all the band,
Found singly faithful in our father’s death?
OR. He is that man. No more!
EL.
O gladsome day!
Dear only saviour of our father’s house,
How earnest thou hither? Art thou he indeed,
That didst preserve Orestes and myself
From many sorrows? O dear hands, kind feet,
Swift in our service,—how couldst thou so long
Be near, nor show one gleam, but didst destroy
My heart with words, hiding the loveliest deeds?
Father!—in thee methinks I see my father.
O welcome! thou of all the world to me
Most hated and most loved in one short hour.
OLD M.
Enough, dear maiden! Many nights and days
Are circling hitherward, that shall reveal
In clear recountment all that came between.
But to you two that stand beside I tell,
Now is your moment, with the Queen alone,
And none of men within; but if you pause,
Know that with others of profounder skill
You’ll have to strive, more than your present foes.
OR.
Then, Pylades, we need no more to dwell
On words, but enter on this act with speed,
First worshipping the holy shrines o’ the Gods
That were my father’s, harboured at the gate.
[They pass within. ELECTRA remains in
an attitude of prayer
[page 169][1376-1406]
EL.
O King Apollo! hear them graciously,
And hear me too, that with incessant hand
Honoured thee richly from my former store!
And now, fierce slayer, I importune thee,
And woo thee with such gifts as I can give,
Be kindly aidant to this enterprise,
And make the world take note, what meed of bane
Heaven still bestows on man’s iniquity.[ELECTRA goes within
CH.
Lo, where the War-god moves1
With soft, sure footstep, on to his design,
Breathing hot slaughter of an evil feud!
Even now the inevitable hounds that track
Dark deeds of hideous crime
Are gone beneath the covert of the domes.
Not long in wavering suspense shall hang
The dreaming presage of my wistful soul.
For lo! within is led2
With crafty tread the avenger of the shades,
Even to his father’s throne of ancient power,
And in his hand the bright new-sharpened death!
And Hermes, Maia’s son,
Is leading him, and hath concealed the guile
Even to the fatal end in clouds of night.
His time of weary waiting all is o’er.
Re-enter ELECTRA.
EL.
O dearest women! they are even now
About it. Only bide in silence still.
CH. What is the present scene?
EL.
She decks the vase
For burial, and they both are standing by.
CH. And wherefore hast thou darted forth?
EL.
To watch
Aegisthus’ coming, that he enter not
At unawares.
CLY.
(within).
Ah! ah! Woe for the house,
Desert of friends, and filled with hands of death!
EL. A cry within! Did ye not hear it, friends?
[page 170][1407-1432] CH. Would I had not! I heard, and shivered through.
CLY.
(within).
Oh me! Alas, Aegisthus! where art thou?
EL. Hark! yet again that sound!
CLY.
(within).
O son, have pity!
Pity the womb that bare thee.
EL.
Thou hadst none
For him, nor for his father, in that day.
HALF-CH.
Poor city! hapless race!1
Thy destiny to-day
Wears thee away, away.
What morn shall see thy face?
CLY. (within). Oh, I am smitten!
EL.
Give a second stroke,
If thou hast power.
CLY. (within). Oh me! again, again!
EL. Would thou wert shrieking for Aegisthus too!
CH.
The curse hath found, and they in earth who lie
Are living powers to-day.
Long dead, they drain away
The streaming blood of those who made them die.
Enter ORESTES and PYLADES.
Behold, they come, they come!
His red hand dripping as he moves
With drops of sacrifice the War-god loves.
My ’wildered heart is dumb.
EL. How is it with you, brother?
OR.
If Apollo
Spake rightfully, the state within is well.
EL. Wretched one, is she dead?
OR.
No more have fear
Thou shalt be slighted by thy mother’s will.
CH. Cease, for I see Aegisthus near in view.
EL. In, in again, boys!
OR.
Where do ye behold
The tyrant?
EL.
To our hand from yonder gate
He comes with beaming look.
[page 171]
HALF-CH.
Haste, with what speed ye may,2 [1433-1461]
Stand on the doorway stone,
That, having thus much done,
Ye may do all to-day.
OR. Fear not: we will perform it.
EL.
Speed ye now:
Follow your thought.
OR. We are already there.
EL. Leave matters here to me. All shall go well. [Exit ORESTES with PYLADES
CH.
Few words, as if in gentleness, ’twere good
To utter in his ear,
That, eager and unware,
One step may launch him on the field of blood.
Enter AEGISTHUS.
AEGISTHUS.
Which of you know where are the Phocian men
Who brought the news I hear, Orestes’ life
Hath suffered shipwreck in a chariot-race?
You, you I question, you in former time
So fearless! You methinks most feelingly
Can tell us, for it touches you most near.
EL.
I know: assure thee. Else had I not heard
The dearest of all fortunes to my heart.
AEG. Where are the strangers then? Enlighten me.
EL. Yonder. Their hostess entertained them well.
AEG. And did they certainly report him dead?
EL. Not only so. They showed him to our sight.
AEG. May this clear evidence be mine to see?
EL. I envy not the sight that waits you there.
AEG. Against their wont thy words have given me joy.
EL. Much joy be thine, if this be joy to thee!
AEG.
Silence, I say! Wide let the gates be flung!
For all the Myceneans to behold
And all in Argolis, that if but one
Hath heretofore been buoyed on empty hopes
Fixed in Orestes, seeing him now dead,
[page 172][1462-1493]
He may accept my manage, and not wait
For our stern chastisement to teach him sense.
EL.
My lesson is already learnt: at length
I am schooled to labour with the stronger will.
[The body of CLYTEMNESTRA is disclosed
under a veil: ORESTES standing by
AEG.
Zeus! Divine envy surely hath laid low
The form I here behold. But if the truth
Provoke Heaven’s wrath, be it unexpressed.—Unveil!
Off with all hindrance, that mine eye may see,
And I may mourn my kinsman as I should.
OR.
Thyself put forth thy hand. Not mine but thine
To look and speak with kindness to this corse.
AEG.
I will, for thou advisest well; but thou,
Call Clytemnestra, if she be within.
[AEGISTHUS lifts the shroud
OR. She is beside thee, gaze not otherwhere.
AEG. What do I see! oh!
OR. Why so strange? Whom fear you?
AEG.
Who are the men into whose midmost toils
All hapless I am fallen?
OR.
Ha! knowest thou not
Thou hast been taking living men for dead?
AEG.
I understand that saying. Woe is me!
I know, Orestes’ voice addresseth me.
OR. A prophet! How wert thou so long deceived?
AEG. Undone, undone! Yet let me speak one word.
EL.
Brother, by Heaven, no more! Let him not speak.
When death is certain, what do men in woe
Gain from a little time? Kill him at once!
And, killed, expose him to such burial
From dogs and vultures, as beseemeth such,
Far from our view. Nought less will solace me
For the remembrance of a life of pain.
OR.
Go in and tarry not. No contest this
Of verbal question, but of life or death.
AEG.
Why drive you me within? If this you do
Be noble, why must darkness hide the deed?
Why not destroy me out of hand?
[page 173][1494-1510]
OR.
Command not!
Enter, and in the place where ye cut down
My father, thou shalt yield thy life to me.
AEG.
Is there no help but this abode must see
The past and future ills of Pelops’ race?
OR.
Thine anyhow. That I can prophesy
With perfect inspiration to thine ear.
AEG. The skill you boast belonged not to your sire.
OR. You question and delay. Go in!
AEG. Lead on.
OR. Nay, go thou first.
AEG. That I may not escape thee?
OR.
No, that thou may’st not have thy wish in death.
I may not stint one drop of bitterness.
And would this doom were given without reprieve,
If any try to act beyond the law,
To kill them. Then the wicked would be few.
LEADER OF CH.
O seed of Atreus! how triumphantly
Through grief and hardness thou hast freedom found,
With full achievement in this onset crowned!
SCENE. Before the temporary abode of Heracles in Trachis.
[page 176] This tragedy is named from the Chorus. From the subject it might have been called ‘Deanira or the Death of Heracles’.
The Centaur Nessus, in dying by the arrow of Heracles, which had been dipped in the venom of the Hydra, persuaded the bride Deanira, whose beauty was the cause of his death, to keep some of the blood from the wound as a love-charm for her husband. Many years afterwards, when Heracles was returning from his last exploit of sacking Oechalia, in Euboea, he sent before him, by his herald Lichas, Iole, the king’s daughter, whom he had espoused. Deanira, when she had discovered this, commissioned Lichas when he returned to present his master with a robe, which she had anointed with the charm,—hoping by this means to regain her lord’s affection. But the poison of the Hydra did its work, and Heracles died in agony, Deanira having already killed herself on ascertaining what she had done. The action takes place in Trachis, near the Mahae Gulf, where Heracles and Deanira, by permission of Ceyx, the king of the country, have been living in exile. At the close of the drama, Heracles, while yet alive, is carried towards his pyre on Mount Oeta.
[page 177]
DÊANIRA.
Men say,—’twas old experience gave the word,
—‘No lot of mortal, ere he die, can once
Be known for good or evil.’ But I know,
Before I come to the dark dwelling-place,
Mine is a lot, adverse and hard and sore.
Who yet at Pleuron, in my father’s home,
Of all Aetolian women had most cause
To fear my bridal. For a river-god,
Swift Achelôüs, was my suitor there
And sought me from my father in three forms;
Now in his own bull-likeness, now a serpent
Of coiling sheen, and now with manlike build
But bovine front, while from the shadowy beard
Sprang fountain-waters in perpetual spray.
Looking for such a husband, I, poor girl!
Still prayed that Death might find me, ere I knew
That nuptial.—Later, to my glad relief,
Zeus’ and Alcmena’s glorious offspring came,
And closed with him in conflict, and released
My heart from torment. How the fight was won
I could not tell. If any were who saw
Unshaken of dread foreboding, such may speak.
But I sate quailing with an anguished fear,
Lest beauty might procure me nought but pain,
Till He that rules the issue of all strife,
Gave fortunate end—if fortunate! For since,
Assigned by that day’s conquest, I have known
The couch of Heracles, my life is spent
In one continual terror for his fate.
Night brings him, and, ere morning, some fresh toil
Drives him afar. And I have borne him seed;
Which he, like some strange husbandman that farms
[page 178]
A distant field, finds but at sowing time
And once in harvest. Such a weary life
Still tossed him to and fro,—no sooner home
But forth again, serving I know not whom.
And when his glorious head had risen beyond
These labours, came the strongest of my fear.
For since he quelled the might of Iphitus,
We here in Trachis dwell, far from our home,
Dependent on a stranger, but where he
Is gone, none knoweth. Only this I know,
His going pierced my heart with pangs for him,
And now I am all but sure he bears some woe.
These fifteen months he hath sent me not one word.
And I have cause for fear. Ere he set forth
He left a scroll with me, whose dark intent
I oft pray Heaven may bring no sorrow down.
ATTENDANT.
Queen Dêanira, many a time ere now
Have I beheld thee with all tearful moan
Bewailing the departure of thy lord.
But, if it be permitted that a slave
Should tender counsel to the free, my voice
May venture this:—Of thy strong band of sons
Why is not one commissioned to explore
For Heracles? and why not Hyllus first,
Whom most it would beseem to show regard
For tidings of his father’s happiness?
Ah! here I see him bounding home, with feet
Apt for employment! If you count me wise,
He and my words attend upon your will.
Enter HYLLUS.
DÊ.
Dear child, dear boy! even from the lowliest head
Wise counsel may come forth. This woman here,
Though a bond-maiden, hath a free-born tongue.
HYL. What word is spoken, mother? May I know?
DÊ.
That, with thy father lost to us so long,
’Tis shame thou dost not learn his dwelling-place.
HYL. Yea, I have learnt, if one may trust report.
DÊ. Where art thou told his seat is fixed, my son?
[page 179]
HYL.
’Tis said that through the length of this past year
He wrought as bondman to a Lydian girl.
DÊ. Hath he borne that? Then nothing can be strange!
HYL. Well, that is over, I am told. He is free.
DÊ. Where is he rumoured, then, alive or dead?
HYL.
In rich Euboea, besieging, as they tell,
The town of Eurytus, or offering siege.
DÊ.
Child, hast thou heard what holy oracles
He left with me, touching that very land?
HYL. What were they, mother, for I never knew?
DÊ.
That either he must end his being there,
Or, this one feat performed, his following time
Should grace his life with fair prosperity.
Wilt thou not then, my child, when he is held
In such a crisis of uncertain peril,
Run to his aid?—since we must perish with him,
Or owe our lasting safety to his life.
HYL.
I will go, mother. Had I heard this voice
Of prophecy, long since I had been there.
Fear is unwonted for our father’s lot.
But now I know, my strength shall all be spent
To learn the course of these affairs in full.
DÊ.
Go then, my son. Though late, to learn and do
What wisdom bids, hath certainty of gain.
[Exit HYLLUS. DÊANIRA withdraws
CHORUS (entering and turning towards the East).
Born of the starry night in her undoing,I 1
Lulled in her bosom at thy parting glow,
O Sun! I bid thee show,
What journey is Alcmena’s child pursuing?
What region holds him now,
’Mong winding channels of the deep,
Or Asian plains, or rugged Western steep?
Declare it, thou
Peerless in vision of thy flashing ray
That lightens on the world with each new day.
[page 180]
Sad Dêanira, bride of battle-wooing,I 2 [104-143]
Ne’er lets her tearful eyelids close in rest,
But in love-longing breast,
Like some lorn bird its desolation rueing,
Of her great husband’s way
Still mindful, worn with harrowing fear
Lest some new danger for him should be near,
By night and day
Pines on her widowed couch of ceaseless thought,
With dread of evil destiny distraught:[Enter DÊANIRA.
For many as are billows of the SouthII 1
Blowing unweariedly, or Northern gale,
One going and another coming on
Incessantly, baffling the gazer’s eye,
Such Cretan ocean of unending toil
Cradles our Cadmus-born, and swells his fame.
But still some power doth his foot recall
From stumbling down to Hades’ darkling hall.
Wherefore, in censure of thy mood, I bringII 2
Glad, though opposing, counsel. Let not hope
Grow weary. Never hath a painless life
Been cast on mortals by the power supreme
Of the All-disposer, Cronos’ son. But joy
And sorrow visit in perpetual round
All mortals, even as circleth still on high
The constellation of the Northern sky.
What lasteth in the world? Not starry night,III
Nor wealth, nor tribulation; but is gone
All suddenly, while to another soul
The joy or the privation passeth on.
These hopes I bid thee also, O my Queen!
Hold fast continually, for who hath seen
Zeus so forgetful of his own?
How can his providence forsake his son?
DÊ.
I see you have been told of my distress,
And that hath brought you. But my inward woe,
Be it evermore unknown to you, as now!
[page 181][144-179]
Such the fair garden of untrammeled ease
Where the young life grows safely. No fierce heat,
No rain, no wind disturbs it, but unharmed
It rises amid airs of peace and joy,
Till maiden turn to matron, and the night
Inherit her dark share of anxious thought,
Haunted with fears for husband or for child.
Then, imaged through her own calamity,
Some one may guess the burden of my life.
Full many have been the sorrows I have wept,
But one above the rest I tell to-day.
When my great husband parted last from home,
He left within the house an ancient scroll
Inscribed with characters of mystic note,
Which Heracles had never heretofore,
In former labours, cared to let me see,—
As bound for bright achievement, not for death.
But now, as though his life had end, he told
What marriage-portion I must keep, what shares
He left his sons out of their father’s ground:
And set a time, when fifteen moons were spent,
Counted from his departure, that even then
Or he must die, or if that date were out
And he had run beyond it, he should live
Thenceforth a painless and untroubled life.
Such by Heaven’s fiat was the promised end
Of Heracles’ long labours, as he said;
So once the ancient oak-tree had proclaimed
In high Dodona through the sacred Doves.
Of which prediction on this present hour
In destined order of accomplishment
The veritable issue doth depend.
And I, dear friends, while taking rest, will oft
Start from sweet slumbers with a sudden fear,
Scared by the thought, my life may be bereft
Of the best husband in the world of men.
CH.
Hush! For I see approaching one in haste,
Garlanded, as if laden with good news.
[page 182][180-212]
Enter Messenger.
MESSENGER.
Queen Dêanira, mine shall be the tongue
To free thee first from fear. Alcmena’s child
Is living, be assured, and triumphing,
And bringing to our Gods the fruits of war.
DÊ. What mean’st thou, aged sir, by what thou sayest?
MESS.
That soon thy husband, envied all around,
Will come, distinguished with victorious might.
DÊ. What citizen or stranger told thee this?
MESS.
Your herald Lichas, where the oxen graze
The summer meadow, cries this to a crowd.
I, hearing, flew off hither, that being first
To bring thee word thereof, I might be sure
To win reward and gratitude from thee.
DÊ. And how is he not here, if all be well?
MESS.
Crossed by no light impediment, my Queen.
For all the Maliac people, gathering round,
Throng him with question, that he cannot move.
But he must still the travail of each soul,
And none will be dismissed unsatisfied.
Such willing audience he unwillingly
Harangues, but soon himself will come in sight.
DÊ.
O Zeus! who rulest Oeta’s virgin wold,
At last, though late, thou hast vouchsafed us joy.
Lift up your voices, O my women! ye
Within the halls, and ye beyond the gate!
For now we reap the gladness of a ray,
That dawns unhoped for in this rumour’s sound.
CHORUS
With a shout by the hearth let the palace roof ring
From those that are dreaming of bridal, and ye,
Young men, let your voices in harmony sing
To the God of the quiver, the Lord of the free!
And the Paean withal from the maiden band
To Artemis, huntress of many a land,
Let it rise o’er the glad roof tree,
[page 183][213-243]
To Phoebus’ own sister, with fire in each hand,
And the Nymphs that her co-mates be!
My spirit soars. O sovereign of my soul!
I will accept the thrilling flute’s control.[They dance
The ivy-crownèd thyrsus, see!
With Bacchic fire is kindling me,
And turns my emulous tread
Where’er the mazy dance may lead.
Euoî! Euoî!
O Paean! send us joy.
See, dearest Queen, behold!
Before thy gaze the event will now unfold.
DÊ.
Think not mine eye hath kept such careless guard,
Dear maids, that I could miss this moving train.
Herald, I bid thee hail, although so late
Appearing, if thou bringest health with thee!
Enter LICHAS, with Captive Women.
LICHAS.
A happy welcome on a happy way,
As prosperous our achievement. Meet it is
Good words should greet bright actions, mistress mine!
DÊ.
Kind friend, first tell me what I first would know—
Shall I receive my Heracles alive?
LICH.
I left him certainly alive and strong:
Blooming in health, not with disease oppressed.
DÊ. In Greece, or in some barbarous country? Tell!
LICH.
Euboea’s island hath a promontory,
Where to Cenaean Zeus he consecrates
Rich altars and the tribute of the ground.
DÊ. Moved by an oracle, or from some vow?
LICH.
So vowed he when he conquered with the spear
The country of these women whom you see.
DÊ.
And who, by Heaven, are they? Who was their sire?
Their case is piteous, or eludes my thought.
[page 184][244-280]
LICH.
He took them for the service of the Gods
And his own house, when high Oechalia fell.
DÊ.
Was’t then before that city he was kept
Those endless ages of uncounted time?
LICH.
Not so. The greater while he was detained
Among the Lydians, sold, as he declares,
To bondage. Nor be jealous of the word,
Since Heaven, my Queen, was author of the deed.
Enthrallèd so to Asian Omphalè,
He, as himself avers, fulfilled his year.
The felt reproach whereof so chafed his soul,
He bound fierce curses on himself and sware
That,—children, wife and all,—he yet would bring
In captive chains the mover of this harm.
Nor did this perish like an idle word,
But, when the stain was off him, straight he drew
Allied battalions to assault the town
Of Eurytus, whom, sole of earthly powers,
He had noted as the source of his annoy,
Because, having received him in his hall
A guest of ancient days, he burst on him
With outrage of loud voice and villanous mind,
Saying, ‘with his hand upon the unerring bow,
Oechalia’s princes could o’ershoot his skill;
And born to bondage, he must quail beneath
His overlord’; lastly, to crown this cry,
When at a banquet he was filled with wine,
He flung him out of door. Whereat being wroth,
When Iphitus to the Tirynthian height
Followed the track where his brood-mares had strayed,
He, while the thought and eye of the man by chance
Were sundered, threw him from the tower-crowned cliff.
In anger for which deed the Olympian King,
Father of Gods and men, delivered him
To be a bond-slave, nor could brook the offence,
That of all lives he vanquished, this alone
Should have been ta’en by guile. For had he wrought
In open quittance of outrageous wrong,
Even Zeus had granted that his cause was just.
The braggart hath no favour even in Heaven.
[page 185][281-316]
Whence they, o’erweening with their evil tongue,
Are now all dwellers in the house of death,
Their ancient city a captive;—but these women
Whom thou beholdest, from their blest estate
Brought suddenly to taste of piteous woe,
Come to thy care. This task thy wedded lord
Ordained, and I, his faithful minister,
Seek to perform. But, for his noble self,
When with pure hands he hath done sacrifice
To his Great Father for the victory given,
Look for his coming, lady. This last word
Of all my happy speech is far most sweet.
CH.
Now surety of delight is thine, my Queen,
Part by report and part before thine eye.
DÊ.
Yea, now I learn this triumph of my lord,
Joy reigns without a rival in my breast.
This needs must run with that in fellowship.
Yet wise consideration even of good
Is flecked with fear of what reverse may come.
And I, dear friends, when I behold these maids,
Am visited with sadness deep and strange.
Poor friendless beings, in a foreign land
Wandering forlorn in homeless orphanhood!
Erewhile, free daughters of a freeborn race,
Now, snared in strong captivity for life.
O Zeus of battles, breaker of the war,
Ne’er may I see thee turn against my seed
So cruelly; or, if thou meanest so,
Let me be spared that sorrow by my death!
Such fear in me the sight of these hath wrought.
Who art thou, of all damsels most distressed?
Single or child-bearing? Thy looks would say,
A maid, of no mean lineage. Lichas, tell,
Who is the stranger-nymph? Who gave her birth?
Who was her sire? Mine eye hath pitied her
O’er all, as she o’er all hath sense of woe.
LICH.
What know I? Why should’st thou demand? Perchance
Not lowest in the list of souls there born.
DÊ. How if a princess, offspring of their King?
[page 186][317-348] LICH. I cannot tell. I did not question far.
DÊ. Have none of her companions breathed her name?
LICH. I brought them silently. I did not hear.
DÊ.
Yet speak it to us of thyself, poor maid!
’Tis sorrow not to know thee who thou art.
LICH.
She’ll ne’er untie her tongue, if she maintain
An even tenor, since nor more nor less
Would she disclose; but, poor unfortunate!
With agonizing sobs and tears she mourns
This crushing sorrow, from the day she left
Her wind-swept home. Her case is cruel, sure,—
And claims a privilege from all who feel.
DÊ.
Well, let her go, and pass beneath the roof
In peace, as she desires; nor let fresh pain
From me be added to her previous woe.
She hath enough already. Come, away!
Let’s all within at once, that thou mayest speed
Thy journey, and I may order all things here.
[Exit LICHAS, with Captives, into the house.
DÊANIRA is about to follow them
Re-enter Messenger.
MESS.
Pause first there on the threshold, till you learn
(Apart from those) who ’tis you take within,
And more besides that you yet know not of,
Which deeply imports your knowing. Of all this
I throughly am informed.
DÊ.
What cause hast thou
Thus to arrest my going?
MESS.
Stand, and hear.
Not idle was my former speech, nor this.
DÊ.
Say, must we call them back in presence here,
Or would’st thou tell thy news to these and me?
MESS. To thee and these I may, but let those be.
DÊ. Well, they are gone. Let words declare thy drift.
MESS.
That man, in all that he hath lately said,
Hath sinned against the truth: or now he’s false,
Or else unfaithful in his first report.
[page 187][349-384]
DÊ.
What? Tell me thy full meaning clearly forth.
That thou hast uttered is all mystery.
MESS.
I heard this herald say, while many thronged
To hearken, that this maiden was the cause,
Why lofty-towered Oechalia and her lord
Fell before Heracles, whom Love alone
Of heavenly powers had warmed to this emprise,
And not the Lydian thraldom or the tasks
Of rigorous Omphalè, nor that wild fate
Of rock-thrown Iphitus. Now he thrusts aside
The Love-god, contradicting his first tale.
When he that was her sire could not be brought
To yield the maid for Heracles to hold
In love unrecognized, he framed erelong
A feud about some trifle, and set forth
In arms against this damsel’s fatherland
(Where Eurytus, the herald said, was king)
And slew the chief her father; yea, and sacked
Their city. Now returning, as you see,
He sends her hither to his halls, no slave,
Nor unregarded, lady,—dream not so!
Since all his heart is kindled with desire.
I, O my Queen! thought meet to show thee all
The tale I chanced to gather from his mouth,
Which many heard as well as I, i’ the midst
Of Trachis’ market-place, and can confirm
My witness. I am pained if my plain speech
Sound harshly, but the honest truth I tell.
DÊ.
Ah me! Where am I? Whither am I fallen?
What hidden woe have I unwarily
Taken beneath my roof? O misery!
Was she unknown, as he that brought her sware?
MESS.
Nay, most distinguished both in birth and mien;
Called in her day of freedom Iolè,
Eurytus’ daughter,—of whose parentage,
Forsooth as ignorant, he ne’er would speak.
CH.
I curse not all the wicked, but the man
Whose secret practices deform his life.
[page 188][385-413]
DÊ.
Say, maidens, how must I proceed? The words
Now spoken have bewildered all my mind.
CH.
Go in and question Lichas, who perchance
Will tell the truth if you but tax him home.
DÊ. I will; you counsel reasonably.
MESS.
And I,
Shall I bide here till thou com’st forth? Or how?
DÊ.
Remain. For see, without my sending for him,
He issueth from the palace of himself.
Enter LICHAS.
LICH.
What message must I carry to my lord?
Tell me, my Queen. I am going, as thou seest.
DÊ.
So slow in coming, and so quickly flown,
Ere one have time to talk with thee anew!
LICH. What wouldst thou ask me? I am bent to hear.
DÊ. And art thou bent on truth in the reply?
LICH. By Heaven! in all that I have knowledge of.
DÊ. Then tell me, who is she thou brought’st with thee?
LICH. An islander. I cannot trace her stock.
MESS. Look hither, man. Who is’t to whom thou speakest?
LICH. Why such a question? What is thine intent?
MESS. Nay, start not, but make answer if thou knowest.
LICH.
To Dêanira, Oeneus’ queenly child,
Heracles’ wife,—if these mine eyes be true,—
My mistress.
MESS.
Ay, that is the very word
I longed to hear thee speak. Thy mistress, sayest?
LICH. To whom I am bound.
MESS.
Hold there! What punishment
Wilt thou accept, if thou art found to be
Faithless to her?
LICH.
I faithless! What dark speech
Hast thou contrived?
MESS.
Not I at all. ’Tis thou
Dost wrap thy thoughts i’ the dark.
[page 189][414-448]
LICH.
Well, I will go.
’Tis folly to have heard thee for so long.
MESS. You go not till you answer one word more.
LICH. One, or a thousand! You’ll not stint, I see.
MESS. Thou knowest the captive maid thou leddest home?
LICH. I do. But wherefore ask?
MESS.
Did you not say
That she, on whom you look with ignorant eye,
Was Iolè, the daughter of the King,
Committed to your charge?
LICH.
Where? Among whom?
What witness of such words will bear thee out?
MESS.
Many and sound. A goodly company
In Trachis’ market-place heard thee speak this.
LICH.
Ay.
I said ’twas rumoured. But I could not give
My vague impression for advised report.
MESS.
Impression, quotha! Did you not on oath
Proclaim your captive for your master’s bride?
LICH.
My master’s bride! Dear lady, by the Gods,
Who is the stranger? for I know him not.
MESS.
One who was present where he heard thee tell,
How that whole city was subdued and taken,
Not for the bondage to the Lydian girl,
But through the longing passion for this maid.
LICH.
Dear lady, let the fellow be removed.
To prate with madmen is mere foolishness.
DÊ.
Nay, I entreat thee by His name, whose fire
Lightens down Oeta’s topmost glen, be not
A niggard of the truth. Thou tell’st thy tale
To no weak woman, but to one who knows
Mankind are never constant to one joy.
Whoso would buffet Love, aspires in vain.
For Love leads even Immortals at his will,
And me. Then how not others, like to me?
’Twere madness, sure, in me to blame my lord
When this hath caught him, or the woman there,
His innocent accomplice in a thing,
No shame to either, and no harm to me.
[page 190][449-490]
It is not so. But if from him thou learnest
The lore of falsehood, it were best unlearnt;
Or if the instruction comes of thine own thought,
Such would-be kindness doth not prove thee kind.
Then tell me all the truth. To one free-born
The name of liar is a hateful lot.
And thou canst not be hid. Thy news was heard
By many, who will tell me. If thou fearest,
Thou hast no cause—for doubtfulness is pain,
But to know all, what harm? His loves ere now
Were they not manifold? And none hath borne
Reproach or evil word from me. She shall not,
Though his new passion were as strong as death;
Since most mine eye hath pitied her, because
Her beauty was the ruin of her life,
And all unweeting, she her own bright land,
Poor hapless one! hath ravaged and enslaved.—
Let that be as it must. But for thy part,
Though false to others, be still true to me.
CH.
’Tis fairly said. Comply. Thou ne’er wilt blame
Her faithfulness, and thou wilt earn our loves.
LICH.
Yea, dear my Queen, now I have seen thee hold
Thy mortal wishes within mortal bound
So meekly, I will freely tell thee all.
It is as he avers. This maiden’s love,
Piercing through Heracles, was the sole cause,
Why her Oechalia, land of plenteous woe,
Was made the conquest of his spear. And he—
For I dare so far clear him—never bade
Concealment or denial. But myself,
Fearing the word might wound thy queenly heart,
Sinned, if thou count such tenderness a sin.
But now that all is known, for both your sakes,
His, and thine own no less, look favouringly
Upon the woman, and confirm the word
Thou here hast spoken in regard to her:—
For he, whose might is in all else supreme,
Is wholly overmastered by her love.
DÊ.
Yea, so my mind is bent. I will do so.
[page 191][491-519]
I will not, in a bootless strife ’gainst Heaven,
Augment my misery with self-sought ill.
Come, go we in, that thou may’st bear from me
Such message as is meet, and also carry
Gifts, such as are befitting to return
For gifts new-given. Thou ought’st not to depart
Unladen, having brought so much with thee.[Exeunt
CHORUS.
Victorious in her might,I 1
The Queen of soft delight
Still ranges onward with triumphant sway.
What she from Kronos’ son
And strong Poseidon won,
And Pluto, King of Night, I durst not say.
But who, to earn this bride,
Came forth in sinewy pride
To strive, or e’er the nuptial might be known
With fearless heart I tell
What heroes wrestled well,
With showering blows, and dust in clouds upthrown.
One was a river bold,I 2
Horn-crowned, with tramp fourfold,
Bull Achelôüs, Acarnania’s Fear;
And one from Bacchus’ town,
Own son of Zeus, came down,
With brandished mace, bent bow, and barbèd spear.
Who then in battle brunt,
Together, front to front,
Hurled, eager both to win the beauteous prize;
And Cypris ’mid the fray
Alone, that dreadful day,
Sate umpire, holding promise in her eyes.
Then clashed the fist, then clanged the bow;II
Then horns gave crashing blow for blow,
Whilst, as they clung,
[page 192][520-555]
The twining hip throw both essay
And hurtling foreheads’ fearful play,
And groans from each were wrung.
But the tender fair one far away
Sate watching with an eye of piteous cheer
(A mother’s heart will heed the thing I say,)
Till won by him who freed her from her fear.
Sudden she leaves her mother’s gentle side,
Borne through the waste, our hero’s tender bride.
Enter DÊANIRA.
DÊ.
Dear friends, while yonder herald in the house
Holds converse with the captives ere he go,
I have stol’n forth to you, partly to tell
The craft my hand hath compassed, and in part,
To crave your pity for my wretchedness.
For I have taken to my hearth a maid,—
And yet, methinks, no maiden any more,
Like some fond shipmaster, taking on board
A cargo fraught with treason to my heart.
And now we two are closed in one embrace
Beneath one coverlet. Such generous meed
For faith in guarding home this dreary while
Hath the kind Heracles our trusty spouse,
Sent in return! Yet, oft as he hath caught
This same distemperature, I know not how
To harbour indignation against him.
But who that is a woman could endure
To dwell with her, both married to one man?
One bloom is still advancing, one doth fade.
The budding flower is cropped, the full-blown head
Is left to wither, while love passeth by
Unheeding. Wherefore I am sore afraid
He will be called my husband, but her mate,
For she is younger. Yet no prudent wife
Would take this angerly, as I have said.
But, dear ones, I will tell you of a way,
Whereof I have bethought me, to prevent
This heart-break. I had hidden of long time
[page 193][555-591]
In a bronze urn the ancient Centaur’s gift,
Which I, when a mere girl, culled from the wound
Of hairy-breasted Nessus in his death.
He o’er Evenus’ rolling depths, for hire,
Ferried wayfarers on his arm, not plying
Or rowing-boat, or canvas-wingèd bark.
Who, when with Heracles, a new-made bride,
I followed by my father’s sending forth,
Shouldering me too, in the mid-stream, annoyed
With wanton touch. And I cried out; and he,
Zeus’ son, turned suddenly, and from his bow
Sent a wing’d shaft, that whizzed into his chest
To the lungs. Then the weird Thing, with dying voice
Spake to me:—‘Child of aged Oeneüs,
Since thou wert my last burden, thou shalt win
Some profit from mine act, if thou wilt do
What now I bid thee. With a careful hand
Collect and bear away the clotted gore
That clogs my wound, e’en where the monster snake
Had dyed the arrow with dark tinct of gall;
And thou shalt have this as a charm of soul
For Heracles, that never through the eye
Shall he receive another love than thine.’
Whereof bethinking me, for since his death
I kept it in a closet locked with care,
I have applied it to this robe, with such
Addition as his living voice ordained.—
The thing is done. No criminal attempts
Could e’er be mine. Far be they from my thought,
As I abhor the woman who conceives them!
But if by any means through gentle spells
And bonds on Heracles’ affection, we
May triumph o’er this maiden in his heart,
My scheme is perfected. Unless you deem
Mine action wild. If so, I will desist.