A blood-guilty ranger,
Hotly will hound him still
I, the Avenger!
Apollo.
Begone! I charge thee, leave these sacred halls!
From this prophetic cell avaunt! lest thou
A feathered serpent in thy breast receive,
Shot from my golden bow; and, inly pained,
Thou vomit forth black froth of murdered men,
Belching the clotted slaughter by thy maw
Insatiate sucked. These halls suit not for thee;
But where beheading, eye-out-digging dooms,n21
Abortions, butcheries, barrenness abound,
Where mutilations, flayings, torturings,
Make wretches groan, on pointed stakes impaled,
There fix your seats; there hold the horrid feasts,
In which your savage hearts exultant revel,
Of gods abominate—maids whose features foul
Speak your foul tempers plainly. Find a home
In some grim lion’s den sanguinolent, not
In holy temples which your breath pollutes.
Depart, ye sheep unshepherded, whom none
Of all the gods may own!
Chorus.
Liege lord, Apollo,
Ours now to speak, and thine to hear: thyself
Not aided only, but the single cause
Wert thou of all thou blamest.
Apollo.
How so? Speak!
Chorus.
Thine was the voice that bade him kill his mother.
Apollo.
Mine was the voice bade him avenge his father.
Chorus.
All reeking red with gore thou didst receive him.
Apollo.
Not uninvited to these halls he came.
Chorus.
And we come with him. Wheresoe’er he goes,
His convoy we. Our function is to follow.
Apollo.
Follow! but from this holy threshold keep
Unholy feet.
Chorus.
We, where we must go, go
By virtue of our office.
Apollo.
A goodly vaunt!
Your office what?
Chorus.
From hearth and home we chase
All mother-murderers.
Apollo.
She was murdered here,
That murdered first her husband.n22
Chorus.
Yet should she
By her own body’s fruitage have been slain?
Apollo.
Thus speaking, ye mispraise the sacred rites
Of matrimonial Heran23 and of Jove,
Unvalued make fair Aphrodite’s grace,
Whence dearest joys to mortal man descend.
The nuptial bed, to man and woman fated,n24
Hath obligation stronger than an oath,
And Justice guards it. Ye who watch our crimes,
If that loose reins to nuptial sins ye yield,
Offend, and grossly. If the murtherous wife
Escape your sharp-set vengeance, how can ye
Pursue Orestes justly? I can read
No even judgment in your partial scales,
In this more wrathful, and in that more mild.
She who is wise shall judge between us, Pallas.
Chorus.
The man is mine already. I will keep him.
Apollo.
He’s gone; and thou’lt but waste thy toil to follow.
Chorus.
Thy words shall not be swords, to cut my honors.
Apollo.
Crowned with such honors, I would tear them from me!
Chorus.
A mighty god beside thy father’s throne
Art thou, Apollo. Me this mother’s blood
Goads on to hound this culprit to his doom.
Apollo.
And I will help this man, champion and save him,
My suppliant, my client; should I not,
Both gods and men would brand the treachery.
[The scene changes to the Temple of Pallas in Athens. A considerable interval of time is supposed to have elapsed between the two parts of the Play.
Enter Orestes.
Orestes.
Athena queen, at Loxias’ hest I come.
Receive the suppliant with propitious grace.
Not now polluted, nor unwashed from guilt
I cling to the first altar; time hath mellowed
My hue of crime, and friendly men receive
The curse-beladen wanderer to their homes.
True to the god’s oracular command,
O’er land and sea with weary foot I fare,
To find thy shrine, O goddess, and clasp thine image;
And now redemption from thy doom I wait.
Enter Chorus.
Chorus.
’Tis well. The man is here. His track I know.
The sure advisal of our voiceless guide
Follow; as hound a wounded stag pursues,
We track the blood, and snuff the coming death.
Soothly we pant, with life-outwearying toils
Sore overburdened! O’er the wide sea far
I came, and with my wingless flight outstripped
The couriers of the deep. Here he must lie,
In some pent corner skulking. In my nostrils
The scent of mortal blood doth laugh me welcome.
Chorus.n25
Voice 1.
Look, sisters, look!
Voice 2.
On the right, on the left, and round about,
Search every nook!
Voice 3.
Warily watch him,
The blood-guilty ranger,
That Fraud may not snatch him,
From me the Avenger!
Voice 1.
At the shrine of the goddess,
He bendeth him lowly,
Embracing her image,
The ancient the holy.
Voice 2.
With hands crimson-reeking,
He clingeth profanely,
A free pardon seeking
From Pallas—how vainly!
Voice 3.
For blood, when it floweth,
For once and for ever
It sinks, and it knoweth
To mount again never.
Voice 1.
Thou shalt pay me with pain;
From thy heart, from thy liver
I will suck, I will drain
Thy life’s crimson river.
Voice 2.
The cup from thy veins
I will quaff it, how rarely!
I will wither thy brains,
Thou shalt pine late and early.
Voice 3.
I will drag thee alive,
For thy guilt matricidal,
To the dens of the damned,
For thy lasting abidal.
EPODE.
Tutti.
There imprisoned thou shalt see
All who living sinned with thee,
’Gainst the gods whom men revere,
’Gainst honoured guest, or parents dear;
All the guilty who inherited
Woe, even as their guilt had merited.
For Hades,f11 in his halls of gloom,
With a justly portioned doom,
Binds them down securely:
All the crimes of human kind,
In the tablet of his mind,
He hath graven surely.
Orestes.
By manifold ills I have been taught to know
All expiations; and the time to speak
I know, and to be silent. In this matter
As a wise master taught me, so my tongue
Shapes utterance. The curse that bound me sleeps,
My harsh-grained guilt is finer worn, the deep
Ensanguined stain washed to a softer hue;
Still reeking fresh with gore, on Phœbus’ hearth,
The blood of swine hath now wrought my lustration,f12
And I have held communings with my kind
Once and again unharming. Time, that smooths
All things, hath smoothed the front of my offence.
With unpolluted lips I now implore
Thy aid, Athena, of this land the queen.
Myself, a firm ally, I pledge to thee,
Myself, the Argive people, and their land,
Thy bloodless prize. And whether distant far
On Libyan plains beside Tritonian pools,n26
Thy natal flood, with forward foot firm planted,
Erect, or with decorous stole high-seated,n27
Thy friends thou aidest, or with practised eye
The ordered battle on Phlegrean fields
Thou musterestn28—come!—for gods can hear from far—
And from these woes complete deliverance send!
Chorus.
Not all Apollo’s, all Athena’s power
Shall aid thee. Thou, of gods and men forsook,
Shalt pine and dwindle, stranger to the name
Of joy, a wasted shadow, bloodless sucked
To fatten wrathful gods. Thou dost not speak,
But, as a thing devoted, standest dumb,
My prey, even mine! my living banquet thou,
My fireless victim. List, and thou shalt hear
My song, that binds thee with its viewless chain.
Chorus.
Deftly, deftly weave the dance!
Sisters lift the dismal strain!
Sing the Furies, justly dealing
Dooms deserved to guilty mortals;
Deftly, deftly lift the strain!
Whoso lifted hands untainted
Him no Furies’ wrath shall follow,
He shall live unharmed by me;
But who sinned, as this offender,
Hiding foul ensanguined hands,
We with him are present, bearing
Unhired witness for the dead;
We will tread his heels, exacting
Blood for blood, even to the end.
CHORAL HYMN.n29
STROPHE I.
Mother Night that bore me,
A scourge, to go before thee,
To scourge, with stripes delightless,
The seeing and the sightless,n30
Hear me, I implore thee,
O Mother Night!
Mother Night that bore me,
The son of Leto o’er me
Rough rides, in thy despite.
From me, the just pursuer,
He shields the evil-doer,
The son to me devoted,
For mother-murder noted,
He claims against the right.
Where the victim lies,
Let the death-hymn rise!
Lift ye the hymn of the Furies amain!
The gleeless song, and the lyreless strain,n31
That bindeth the heart with a viewless chain,
With notes of distraction and maddening sorrow,
Blighting the brain, and burning the marrow!
Where the victim lies,
Let the death-hymn rise,
The hymn that binds with a viewless chain!
ANTISTROPHE I.
Mother Night that bore me,
The Fate that was before me,
This portion gave me surely,
This lot for mine securely,
To bear the scourge before thee,
O Mother Night!
And, in embrace untender
To hold the red offender,
That sinned in gods’ despite,
And wheresoe’er he wend him,
His keepers close we tend him.
In living or in dying,
From us there is no flying,
The daughters of the Night.
Where the victim lies,
Let the death-hymn rise!
Lift ye the hymn of the Furies amain!
The gleeless song, and the lyreless strain,
That bindeth the heart with a viewless chain,
With notes of distraction and maddening sorrow,
Blighting the brain, and burning the marrow!
Where the victim lies,
Let the death-hymn rise,
The hymn that binds with a viewless chain!
STROPHE II.
From primal ages hoary,
This lot, our pride and glory,
Appointed was to us;
To Hades’ gloomy portal,
To chase the guilty mortal,
But from Olympians, reigning
In lucid seats,f13 abstaining;
Their nectared feasts we taste not,
Their sun-white robes invest not
The maids of Erebus.
But, with scourge and with ban,
We prostrate the man,
Who with smooth-woven wile,
And a fair-faced smile,
Hath planted a snare for his friend;
Though fleet, we shall find him,
Though strong, we shall bind him,
Who planted a snare for his friend.
ANTISTROPHE II.
This work of labour earnest,n32
This task severest, sternest,
Let none remove from us.
To all their due we render,
Each deeply-marked offender
Our searching eye reproveth,
Though blissful Jove removeth,
From his Olympian glory,
Abhorr’d of all and gory,
The maids of Erebus.
But, swift as the wind,
We follow and find,
Till he stumbles apace,
Who had hoped in the race,
To escape from the grasp of the Furies!
And we trample him low,
Till he writhe in his woe,
Who had fled from the chase of the Furies.
STROPHE III.
The thoughts heaven-scaling
Of men haughty-hearted,
At our breath, unavailing
Like smoke they departed.
Our jealous foot hearing,
They stumble before us,
And bite the ground, fearing
Our dark-vested chorus.
ANTISTROPHE III.
They fall, and perceive not
The foe that hath found them;
They are blind and believe not,
Thick darkness hath bound them.
From the halls of the fated,
A many-voiced wailing
Of sorrow unsated
Ascends unavailing.
STROPHE IV.
For the Furies work readily
Vengeance unsparing,
Surely and steadily
Ruin preparing.
Dark crimes strictly noted,
Sure-memoried they store them;
And, judgment once voted,
Prayers vainly implore them.
For they know no communion
With the bright-throned union
Of the gods of the day;
Where the living appear not,
Where the pale Shades near not,
In regions delightless,
All sunless and sightless,
They dwell far away.
ANTISTROPHE IV.
What mortal reveres not
Our deity awful?
When he names us, who fears not
To work deeds unlawful?
From times hoary-dated,
This statute for ever
Divinely was fated;
Time takes from it never.
For dishonour we bear not,
Though the bright thrones we share not
With the gods of the day.
Our right hoary-dated
We claim unabated,
Though we dwell, where delightless
No sun cheers the sightless,
’Neath the ground far away.
Enter Athena.
Athena.
The cry that called me from Scamander’s banksn33
I heard afar, even as I hied to claim
The land for mine which the Achæan chiefs
Assigned me, root and branch, my portion fair
Of the conquered roods, a goodly heritage
To Theseus’ sons. Thence, with unwearied foot,
I journeyed here by these high-mettled steeds
Car-borne, my wingless ægis in the gale
Full-bosomed whirring. And now, who are ye,
A strange assembly, though I fear you not,
Here gathered at my gates? I speak to both,
To thee the stranger, that with suppliant arms
Enclasps my statue—Whence art thou? And you,
Like to no generation seed-begotten,
Like to no goddess ever known of gods,
Like to no breathing forms of mortal kind;
But to reproach with contumelious phrase
Who wrong not us, nor courtesy allows,
Nor Themis wills. Whence are ye?
Chorus.
Daughter of Jove,
’Tis shortly said: of the most ancient Night
The tristful daughters we, and our dread name,
Even from the fearful Curse we bear, we borrow.f14
Athena.
I know you, and the dreaded name ye bear.
Chorus.
Our sacred office, too—
Athena.
That I would hear.
Chorus.
The guilty murderer from his home we hunt.
Athena.
And the hot chase, where ends it?
Chorus.
There, where joy
Is never named.
Athena.
And is this man the quarry,
That, with hoarse-throated whoop, thou now pursuest?
Chorus.
He slew his mother—dared the worst of crimes.
Athena.
What mightier fear, what strong necessity
Spurred him to this?
Chorus.
What fear so strong that it
Should prompt a mother’s murder?
Athena.
There are two parties. Only one hath spoken.
Chorus.
He’ll neither swear himself, nor take my oath.n34
Athena.
The show of justice, not fair Justice self,
Thou lovest.
Chorus.
How? Speak—thou so rich in wisdom.
Athena.
Oaths are no proof, to make the wrong the right.
Chorus.
Prove thou. A true and righteous judgment judge.
Athena.
I shall be judge, betwixt this man and thee
To speak the doom.
Chorus.
Even thou. Thy worthy deeds
Give thee the worth in this high strife to judge.
Athena.
Now, stranger, ’tis thy part to speak. Whence come,
Thy lineage what, and what thy fortunes, say,
And then refute this charge against thee brought.
For well I note the sacredness about thee,
That marks the suppliant who atonement seeks,
In old Ixíon’s guise;n35 and thou hast fled
For refuge, to my holy altar clinging.
Answer me this, and plainly tell thy tale.
Orestes.
Sovran Athena, first from these last words
A cause of much concernment be removed.
I seek for no atonement; no pollution
Cleaves to thy sacred image from my touch.
Of this receive a proof. Thou know’st a murderer
Being unatoned a voiceless penance bears,
Till, from the hand of friendly man, the blood
Of a young beast from lusty veins hath sprent him,
Cleansing from guiltiness. These sacred rites
Have been performed: the blood of beasts hath sprent me,
The lucent lymph hath purged the filthy stain.
For this enough. As for my race, I am
An Argive born: and for my father, he
Was Agamemnon, king of men, by whom
The chosen admiral of the masted fleet,
The ancient city of famous Priam thou
Didst sheer uncity.n36 Sad was his return;
For, with dark-bosomed guile, my mother killed him,
Snared in the meshes of a tangled net,
And of the bloody deed the bath was witness.
I then, returning to my father’s house
After long exile—I confess the deed—
Slew her who bore me, a dear father’s murder
With murder quitting. The blame—what blame may be—
I share with Loxias, who fore-augured griefs
To goad my heart if, by my fault, such guilt
Should go unpunished. I have spoken. Thou
What I have done, if justly or unjustly,
Decide. Thy doom, howe’er it fall, contents me.
Athena.
In this high cause to judge, no mortal man
May venture; nor may I divide the law
Of right and wrong, in such keen strife of blood.
For thee, in that thou comest to my halls,n37
In holy preparation perfected,
A pure and harmless suppliant, I, as pledged
Already thy protector, may not judge thee.
For these, ’tis no light thing to slight their office.
For, should I send them hence uncrowned with triumph,
Dripping fell poison from their wrathful breasts,
They’d leave a noisome pestilence in the land
Behind them. Thus both ways I’m sore perplexed;
Absent or present, they do bring a curse.
But since this business needs a swift decision,
Sworn judges I’ll appoint, and they shall judge
Of blood in every age. Your testimonies
And proofs meanwhile, and all that clears the truth,
Provide. Myself, to try this weighty cause,
My choicest citizens will choose, and bind them
By solemn oath to judge a righteous judgment.
CHORAL HYMN.n38
STROPHE I.
Ancient rights and hoary uses
Now shall yield to young abuses,
Right and wrong together chime,
If the vote
Fail to note
Mother-murder for a crime.
Murder now, made nimble-handed,
Wide shall rage without control;
Sons against their parents banded
Deeds abhorred
With the sword
Now shall work, while ages roll.
ANTISTROPHE I.
Now no more, o’er deeds unlawful,
Shall the sleeping Mænadsf15 awful
Watch, with jealous eyes to scan;
Free and chainless,
Wild and reinless,
Stalks o’er Earth each murtherous plan.
Friend to friend his loss deploreth,
Lawless rapine, treacherous wound,
But in vain his plaint he poureth;
To his bruises
Earth refuses
Balm; no balm on Earth is found.
STROPHE II.
Now no more, from grief’s prostration,
Cries and groans
Heaven shall scale with invocation—
“Justice hear my supplication,
Hear me, Furies, from your thrones!”
From the recent sorrow bleeding,
Father thus or mother calls,
Vainly with a piteous pleading,
For the House of Justice falls.
ANTISTROPHE II.
Blest the man in whose heart reigneth
Holy Fear;
Fear his heart severely traineth;
Blest, from troublous woe who gaineth
Ripest fruits of wisdom clear;f16
But who sports, a careless liver,n39
In the sunshine’s flaunting show,
Holy Justice, he shall never
Thy severest virtue know.
STROPHE III.
Lordless life, or despot-ridden,
Be they both from me forbidden.
To the wise mean strength is given,n40
Thus the gods have ruled in heaven;
Gods, that gently or severely
Judge, discerning all things clearly.
Mark my word, I tell thee truly,
Pride, that lifts itself unduly,n41
Had a godless heart for sire.
Healthy-minded moderation
Wins the wealthy consummation,
Every heart’s desire.
ANTISTROPHE III.
Yet, again, I tell thee truly,
At Justice’ altar bend thee duly.
Wean thine eye from lawless yearning
After gain; with godless spurning
Smite not thou that shrine most holy.
Punishment, that travels slowly,
Comes at last, when least thou fearest.
Yet, once more; with truth sincerest,
Love thy parents and revere,
And the guest, that to protect him,
Claims thy guardian roof, respect him,
With an holy fear.f17
STROPHE IV.
Whoso, with no forced endeavour,
Sin-eschewing liveth,
Him to hopeless ruin never
Jove the Saviour giveth.
But whose hand, with greed rapacious,
Draggeth all things for his prey,
He shall strike his flag audacious,
When the god-sent storm shall bray,
Winged with fate at last;
When the stayless sail is flapping,
When the sail-yard swings, and, snapping,
Crashes to the blast.
ANTISTROPHE IV.
He shall call, but none shall hear him,
When dark ocean surges;
None with saving hand shall near him,
When his prayer he urges.
Laughs the god, to see him vainly
Grasping at the crested rock;
Fool, who boasted once profanely
Firm to stand in Fortune’s shock;
Who so great had been
His freighted wealth with fearful crashing,
On the rock of Justice dashing,
Dies, unwept, unseen.
Enter Athena, behind a Herald.
Athena.
Herald, proclaim the diet, and command
The people to attention; with strong breath
Give the air-shattering Tyrrhene trump free voice,n42
To speak shrill-throated to the assembled throngs;
And, while the judges take their solemn seats,
In hushed submission, let the city hear
My laws that shall endure for aye; and these,
In hushed submission, wait the righteous doom.
Enter Apollo.n43
Chorus.
Sovran Apollo, rule where thou art lord;
But here what business brings the prophet? Speak.
Apollo.
I come a witness of the truth; this man
Is suppliant to me, he on my hearth
Found refuge, him I purified from blood.
I, too, am patron of his cause, I share
The blame, if blame there be, in that he slew
His mother. Pallas, order thou the trial.
Athena.
(to the Furies)
Speak ye the first, ’tis wiseliest ordered thus,
That, who complains, his plaint set forth in order,
Point after point, articulately clear.
Chorus.
Though we be many, yet our words are few.
Answer thou singly, as we singly ask;
This first—art thou the murderer of thy mother?
Orestes.
I did the deed. This fact hath no denial.
Chorus.
Once worsted! With three fits I gain the trial.
Orestes.
Boast, when thou seest me fall. As yet I stand.
Chorus.
This answer now—how didst thou do the deed.
Orestes.
Thus; with my pointed dagger, in the neck
I smote her.
Chorus.
Who the bloody deed advised?
Orestes.
The god of oracles. Here he stands to witness.
Chorus.
Commanding murder with prophetic nod?
Orestes.
Ay! and even now I do not blame the god.
Chorus.
Soon, soon, thou’lt blame him, when the pebble drops
Into the urn of justice with thy doom.
Orestes.
My murdered sire will aid me from the tomb.
Chorus.
Trust in the dead; in thy dead mother trust.
Orestes.
She died, with two foul blots well marked for vengeance.
Chorus.
How so? This let the judges understand.
Orestes.
The hand that killed her husband killed my father.
Chorus.
If she for her crimes died, why livest thou?
Orestes.
If her thou didst not vex, why vex me now?
Chorus.
She slew a man, but not of kindred blood.
Orestes.
Is the son’s blood all to the mother kin,
None to the father?
Chorus.
Peace, thou sin-stained monster!
Dost thou abjure the dearest blood, the mother’s
That bore thee ’neath her zone?
Orestes.
(to Apollo)
Be witness thou.
Apollo, speak for me, if by the rule
Of Justice she was murdered. That the deed
Was done, and by these hands, I not deny;
If justly or unjustly blood was spilt,
Thou knowest. Teach me how to make reply.
Apollo.
I speak to you, Athena’s mighty council;
And what I speak is truth: the prophet lies not.
From my oracular seat was published never
To man, to woman, or to city aught
By my Olympian sire unfathered.f18 Ye
How Justice sways the scale will wisely weigh;
But this remember—what my father wills
Is law. Jove’s will is stronger than an oath.
Chorus.
Jove, say’st thou, touched thy tongue with inspiration,
To teach Orestes that he might avenge
A father’s death by murdering a mother?
Apollo.
His was no common father—Agamemnon,
Honoured the kingly sceptre god-bestowed
To bear—he slain by a weak woman, not
By furious Amazon with far-darting bow,
But in such wise as I shall now set forth
To thee, Athena, and to these that sit
On this grave bench of judgment. Him returning
All prosperous from the wars, with fairest welcome
She hailed her lord, and in the freshening bath
Bestowed him; there, ev’n while he laved, she came
Spreading death’s mantle out, and, in a web
Of curious craft entangled, stabbed him. Such
Was the sad fate of this most kingly man,
Of all revered, the fleet’s high admiral.
A tale it is to prick your heart with pity,
Even yours that seal the judgment.
Chorus.
Jove, thou sayest,
Prefers the father: yet himself did bind
With bonds his hoary-dated father Kronos.n44
Make this with that to square, and thou art wise.
Ye judges, mark me, if I reason well.
Apollo.
O odious monsters, of all gods abhorred!
A chain made fast may be untied again.
This ill hath many cures; but, when the dust
Hath once drunk blood, no power can raise it. Jove
Himself doth know no charm to disenchant
Death; other things he turns both up and down,
At his good pleasure, fainting not in strength.
Chorus.
Consider well whereto thy words will lead thee.
How shall this man, who spilt his mother’s blood,
Dwell in his father’s halls at Argos? How
Devoutly kneel at the public altar? How
With any clanship share lustration?n45
Apollo.
This
Likewise I’ll answer. Mark me! whom we call
The mother begets not;n46 she is but the nurse,
Whose fostering breast the new-sown seed receives.
The father truly gets; the dam but cherishes
A stranger-bud, that, if the gods be kind,
May blossom soon, and bear. Behold a proof!
Without a mother may a child be born,
Not so without a father. Which to witness
Here is this daughter of Olympian Jove,
Not nursed in darkness, in the womb, and yet
She stands a goddess, heavenly mother ne’er
Bore greater. Pallas, here I plight my faith
To magnify thy city and thy people;
And I this suppliant to thy hearth hath sent,
Thy faithful ally ever. May the league
Here sworn to-day their children’s children bind!
Athena.
Now judges, as your judgment is, I charge you,
So vote the doom. Words we have had enough.
Chorus.
Our quiver’s emptied. We await the doom.
Athena.
How should the sentence fall to keep me free
Of your displeasure?
Chorus.
What we said we said.
Even as your heart informs you, nothing fearing,
So judges justly vote, the oath revering.
Athena.
Now, hear my ordinance, Athenians!n47 Ye,
In this first strife of blood, umpires elect,
While age on age shall roll, the sons of Aegeus
This Council shall revere. Here, on this hill,
The embattled Amazons pitched their tents of yore,n48
What time with Theseus striving, they their tents
Against these high-towered infant walls uptowered.
To Mars they sacrificed, and, to this day,
This Mars’ Hill speaks their story. Here, Athenians,
Shall reverence of the gods, and holy fear,
That shrinks from wrong, both night and day possess,
A place apart, so long as fickle change
Your ancient laws disturbs not; but, if this
Pure fount with muddy streams ye trouble, ye
Shall draw the draught in vain. From anarchy
And slavish masterdom alike my ordinance
Preserve my people! Cast not from your walls
All high authority; for where no fear
Awful remains, what mortal will be just?
This holy reverence use, and ye possess
A bulwark, and a safeguard of the land,
Such as no race of mortals vaunteth, far
In Borean Scythia, or the land of Pelops.f19
This council I appoint intact to stand
From gain, a venerated conclave, quick
In pointed indignation, when all sleep
A sleepless watch. These words of warning hear,
My citizens for ever. Now ye judges
Rise, take your pebbles, and by vote decide,
The sacred oath revering. I have spoken.
[The Aeropagites advance; and, as each puts his pebble into the urn, the Chorus and Apollo alternately address them as follows:
Chorus.
I warn ye well: the sisterhood beware,
Whose wrath hangs heavier than the land may bear.
Apollo.
I warn ye well: Jove is my father; fear
To turn to nought the words of me, his seer.
Chorus.
If thou dost plead, where thou hast no vocation,
For blood, will men respect thy divination?
Apollo.
Must then my father share thy condemnation,
When first he heard Ixion’s supplication?
Chorus.
Thou say’st.n49 But I, if justice be denied me,
Will sorely smite the land that so defied me.
Apollo.
Among the gods the elder, and the younger,
Thou hast no favour; I shall prove the stronger.
Chorus.
Such were thy deeds in Pheres’ house,n50 deceiving
The Fates, and mortal men from death reprieving.
Apollo.
Was it a crime to help a host? to lend
A friendly hand to raise a sinking friend?
Chorus.
Thou the primeval Power didst undermine,
Mocking the hoary goddesses with wine.
Apollo.
Soon, very soon, when I the cause shall gain,