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STUDIES FROM 
 ATTIC DRAMA 
 
SCHOLAE UPPINGHAMIENSI 
 
 PUERITIAE MEAE NUTRICI 
 
 DESIDERII PIGNUS 
 
 HUNG LIBR.UM DEDICAVI 
 
STUDIES FROM 
 ATTIC DRAMA 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD GEORGE HARMAN 
 
 LONDON 
 SMITH, ELDER & Co., 15 Waterloo Place 
 
 1904 
 
 , 1 > J * 
 
 \_^U rights r^ervedj ' . * • 
 
 - *, » » »»» 
 
OXFORD : HORACE HART 
 PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 < « < * 
 
AS 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS— being a repre- 
 sentation IN English blank verse of the 
 'Agamemnon' of Aeschylus . . . • />• i 
 
 ALCESTIS — A Play, after Euripides /• 51? 
 
 274993 
 
THE HOUSE OF 
 ATREUS 
 
 BEING A REPRESENTATION, 
 
 IN ENGLISH BLANK VERSE, OF THE 
 
 'AGAMEMNON' OF AESCHYLUS 
 
 t 
 
Alkivov atkivov eliri, to 5' ev vlkoltco. 
 
 Tears there shall be^ hut let the good prevail, 
 
 Aesch. ^g. i: 
 
AD F\ATK^EM 
 J. E. H. 
 
 B 
 

INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 T N submitting to the reader the following rendering 
 -*■ of the Agamemnon of Aeschylus, the author desires 
 to say that he has endeavoured to keep faithfiilly to 
 the original throughout. But as his object has been 
 less to make a translation for students of the Greek 
 (a task on which others more qualified than himself 
 have already laboured) than to present the substance 
 and spirit of the play, so far as possible, in English 
 verse, he has not hesitated to resort to paraphrase 
 where literal translation seemed impracticable. 
 
 For those who are unfamiliar with the conditions 
 under which the Greek play was produced, it may be 
 stated that the occasion was a religious festival at 
 which the dramatists competed, the theatre was in 
 the open air (the theatre at Athens seating about thirty 
 thousand people), and the actors, who were men, for 
 the female as for the male parts, wore masks and 
 were artificially raised by a sort of high clog or 
 ' buskin.' Little reliance was, or indeed could be, 
 
 B 2 
 
6 INTRODUCTORY NOTE ^| 
 
 placed on stage scenery, the effect depending mainly j 
 on the lines of the poet and the voice of the actor. '^ 
 The features of the surrounding landscape were fre- 
 quently alluded to, and, in effect, formed part of the ; 
 scene. 1 
 
 The Chorus, which commented on the action and ;; 
 rendered the lyrical portions of the drama (to what - 
 extent through the leader or together is uncertain), . 
 
 c 
 
 were marshalled in the centre of the auditorium, ! 
 below the stage on which the actors appeared. They t 
 sang in unison, or perhaps rather chanted, to the 
 accompaniment of a flute or harp, and their evolu- 
 tions and gestures corresponded to the movement of i 
 the ode ^. 
 
 These points are important to be borne in mind in 
 connexion with the ^ perspective ' and some of the 
 incidents of the drama. Thus the device by which 
 Agamemnon is made to enter the palace bare-foot 
 would no doubt tend, by contrast, to rivet attention 
 on the figure of Agamemnon, while at the same< 
 time augmenting, in point of relative size, that of 
 Clytaemnestra, Humiliation in a scene of apparent 
 
 ^ For fuller information see Haigh's ^nic Tlieatre. 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE 7 
 
 riumph is, of course, also indicated, and the im- 
 j^ending 'sacrifice' suggested. But of the dramatic 
 kill of Aeschylus it is unnecessary to speak at length. 
 
 Again, passages, which in a translation into a 
 nodern language may seem repulsive (as, for instance, 
 i^lytaemnestra's speech after the murder), would not 
 lecessarily be so in the original as it appeared on 
 he stage, owing, among other things, to the sense 
 ►f remoteness from ordinary life produced by the 
 listance, by the artificial appearance and stature of 
 he actors, and, especially, by the concealment of the 
 luman features under the fixed expression of the 
 i iragic mask. The effect produced would, by the same 
 ^:auses, be heightened, the appeal being more to the 
 magination than to the eye. 
 
 The concluding portion of the play, consisting, 
 )rincipally, of a choric dialogue (in which Clytaem- 
 lestra argues her case) breaking into a dirge, has 
 )een curtailed in the following rendering. It de- 
 fends for its effect so largely on the form and diction 
 )f the original as to make reproduction in another 
 anguage practically impossible. 
 
 Blank verse has been employed for the lyrical 
 
8 INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 portions as well as for the dialogue, as it seems tc 
 the writer that no other English metre has tbi 
 requisite dignity and flexibility for the thought am 
 that rhyme obliterates character, which in the part Oi 
 the Chorus in this play is very marked. 
 
 The writer desires gratefully to acknowledge hi 
 especial indebtedness to Mr. Verrall, of whose critics 
 edition and translation he has made frequent us 
 throughout. 
 
 Marchy 1904. 
 
ARGUMENT 
 
 ti 
 
 ;a 
 
 The Return of Agamemnon, with Cassandra, from 
 Troy and the murder of both by Clytaemnestra. 
 
 The story starts from the Thyestean feast. Thyestes, 
 brother of Atreus, King of Argos (who was the father 
 ;bf Agamemnon and Menelaus), having corrupted his 
 wife and conspired against his throne, and having 
 been banished from Argos, endeavoured to obtain his 
 return by throwing himself upon his brother's mercy. 
 Atreus, pretending to welcome him, made a feast, at 
 which he served two of Thyestes' children as food to 
 their father, who ate of it unawares. On discovering 
 what he had done, ^with a cry he fell back vomiting ' 
 and devoted the whole house to ^perish in like 
 manner,' overturning the table with his foot as a 
 symbol of his imprecation. With his remaining child, 
 Aegisthus, he was then sent again into banishment. 
 
 Agamemnon and Menelaus succeeded to the govern- 
 ment of Argos, and the expedition to Troy was 
 undertaken to avenge the abduction by Paris of 
 Helen, wife of Menelaus. Stayed by contrary winds, 
 Agamemnon consented to sacrifice his daughter, 
 Iphigenia, as a propitiation to Artemis. The re- 
 venge of Clytaemnestra, his wife, executed in company 
 with Aegisthus^ who had also a motive of revenge^ 
 supplies the basis of the action. 
 
PE]{SONS J^PT^SENTED 
 
 A WATCHMAN. 
 CHORUS OF ELDERS. 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 A HERALD. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 AEGISTHUS. 
 
 Scene : 
 Before the Falace of Agamemnon in Argos, 
 
THE 
 
 HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 SCENE :_The Palace Roof. Night. 
 
 A WATCHMAN. 
 
 T PRAY the gods to send me my release! 
 -■- A whole long year and still I keep this watch — 
 Couched like a dog — this palace roof my bed — 
 Above my head the stars, which, night by night, 
 I number till I know their companies. 
 The greater and the lesser, where they rule. 
 And all the changing seasons that they bring. 
 And those chief signs, bright potentates of heaven, 
 I mark their risings and their settings down. 
 Drenched by the dew, unvisited by dreams. 
 The long night through I sentinel the flame. 
 Which, coming, comes not from those beaconed hills, 
 
12 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 With news of Troy in ashes and our arms. 
 At last victorious, on their journey home. 
 And still I watch — 'tis this to serve a woman. 
 Bringing, like her, into the things of men 
 The sleepless hopes which haunt a woman's heart. 
 Aye, if I slept, 'twould be for long indeed ! 
 
 Sometimes, 'gainst drowsiness to make a shift, 
 I'd whistle or I'd sing — but 'twill not hold ; 
 Tears come instead, and, thinking of this house, 
 I weep to think of what was once and how 
 'Tis served to-day. Well, well, may better days 
 Come in with my release — To-night ? Who knows ? 
 If through the dark the flame should leap to-night ! — 
 
 The he aeon fire shoots up. 
 
 O hail, thou lamp of night ! O welcome fire ! 
 
 Dawn of the dance, bright harbinger of song ! 
 
 Welcome, thrice welcome ! 
 
 Hillo, Ho ! 
 
 Lady of Agamemnon, Ho ! I cry, 
 
 Up from thy couch ! quick up I and through these halls 
 
 Raise the loud hymn in honour of yon flame ; 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 13 
 
 For Troy is taken, if we may believe 
 
 The fire-god's message which is leaping there. 
 
 Ho for the dance in Agamemnon's halls, 
 
 And I to lead it! for my fortunes wait 
 
 On my lord's coming. Oh, to think that I 
 
 Once more shall give him greeting, once again 
 
 With this hand's worship hail him home, my king ! 
 
 The rest, let silence keep it j on my tongue 
 
 Such load is laid ; though, could it find a voice, 
 
 This house might tell a tale. To those who know 
 
 I speak, and, if they see not, I am blind. [E^f/V. 
 
 Scene : — Before the Falace : nighty shortly before daijn. 
 Sacrificial fires are burning on the altars. 
 
 Enter Chorus of Elders. 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Ten years have passed since, gathering to the cry 
 
 Of Menelaus and his outraged board. 
 
 The ships of Greece, with all our chivalry, 
 
 Set sail for Troy. King Agamemnon led 
 
 The speeding vengeance. Loud went up the cry, 
 
 As eagles cry when, harried of their young. 
 
14 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 They hoarsely clamour in the eye of heaven. 
 Circling above their eyrie, so the wrath 
 Of the Atreidae chided at the throne 
 Of Zeus, the all-seeing lord ; who, hearing, sent 
 His instruments of justice in those twain. 
 Such was his purpose, that a woman's sin. 
 And one man's lawless deed, should work in woe 
 for many a hearth and home. Oh, who shall tell 
 The issue thence in blood and men brought down. 
 In the long battle where the shivered spear 
 Failed the bowed knee and let the white death in ? 
 So stands it where it is, and what shall be tjiu 
 Works to its end ; nor yet by incense poured. 
 Nor prayers, shall ye make burn the sacrifice 
 
 That will not smoke to heaven. 
 
 i 
 
 And we who here abide and went not forth 
 With the great army, for that years had bowed 
 The strength which once was ours — if in our blood 
 The sap which fired our youth, in sinking down. 
 Drew with it all that went to make us men, 
 Ah, what is man ^ } His days are but a dream, 
 
 * This passage, which is a paraphrase, is based on the reading ri 6' 
 
\ 
 
 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 17 
 
 Shadows, as we, light- moved, and at the end 
 A poor staff's garrulous burden ! 
 
 But, O Queen, 
 What chance has moved thee to uprouse these fires 
 On all our city altars ? at what news 
 Mounts such high sacrifice and laves the air j 
 
 With grace- compelling incense and the balm 
 Of heavenly odours from the store of kings? 
 Speak, Clytaemnestra ! We await thy word. 
 To tell what this portends and raise the load 
 That lies about our heart, though lightened now 
 By the quick hope these sacrifices bring. 
 Hope against hope ! How may we trust the end, ^ ^ 
 
 Fated from dark beginnings in the years j' 
 
 Which watched their going hence ? Let Age relate — 
 For song is left to Age — how Calchas read 
 The omens by the way which came from birds, 
 Two eagles feeding on a tender hare, 
 
 virfpyijpojs ; favoured by Mr. Verrall. But the author does not feel 
 certain that the sentiment is quite in the manner of Aeschylus j and 
 that the reflection in the original is not, more probably, confined 
 to the fact that all the fighting force was out of the country, and 
 chat the old men who were left were of no more use than the 
 children. The passage is obscure. 
 
i6 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Then big with young and weltering in their blood — 
 ' Tears there shall be, but let the good prevail ! ' 
 
 Then spake the Seer divining — for he saw 
 The portent of those creatures one in fate 
 With the twin captains — ' After length of days 
 They who go forth shall win to Priam's town. 
 With loss of all their store — only may wrath 
 Smite not the host from heaven ere yet they come ; 
 For on that feast of eagles lies the wrath 
 Of Artemis, who loathes such deeds of blood- 
 Tears there shall be, but let the good prevail ! ' 
 
 ' Yea, goddess, loving to all lowly things. 
 Earth-roving creatures and their tender young. 
 Yet art thou prayed to let these omens bring 
 Their fair fulfilment as they promise fair. 
 Though crossed with evil. But for that I call 
 The lord Apollo, with his healing power. 
 To stay the wrathful goddess that she send 
 No baffling winds to keep the Argive fleet 
 With long delay man-wasting, or bring on 
 A second sacrifice, with service foul 
 Of flesh, accursed, putting strife between 
 
 1 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 17 
 
 The blood and bone, with havoc of all awe 
 Of wife for husband, and in house and home 
 Sleepless, dark -plotting, child-avenging hate/ 
 Thus Calchas, with high promise, but a word 
 Of darker boding and according strain : 
 < Tears there shall be, but let the good prevail ! ' 
 
 Zeus ! — whosoe'er he be, if by that name 
 He hears us call him — I can read these things 
 But as the work of Zeus. This thought alone. 
 Long searching, have I found to lift the load 
 Of vanity which lies about our life^. 
 And elder powers there were, whose day was spent 
 When Zeus victorious reigned ; and 'tis his law 
 ^ That men should learn through suffering. For it bleeds. 
 The unstaunched wound that was, and, at its throb. 
 Comes memory, and so too wisdom comes. 
 And 'tis, perchance, a mercy from a Power 
 That won through strife to its majestic seat. 
 
 So he, the elder of those captains twain, 
 Unsearching in his heart, the easier way 
 
 ^ To ixarav axOos — a difficult phrase. The writer has followed 
 Mr. Verrall's translation. 
 
•• • 
 • • • 
 
 •• • 
 
 "^ i8 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Taking, though dark the utterance of the Seer, "^ 
 Bent to the blast ; and when he saw the host 
 ^ Ravaged with famine, and the winds set still 
 Against his fleet, sore driven, where the tides 
 Rushed to and fro in Aulis, and delay 
 Wasting the flower of Argos, then at last. 
 When one more means was shown him and the Seer 
 Pointed to Artemis — a bitter cry • 
 
 Broke from those twain, and on the ground they beat 
 Their sceptres, and the elder spake and said : 
 
 • • » 
 
 ^ Sore is my fate, sore if I disobey, J \ 
 
 Sore in obedience if I slay my child, i 
 The jewel of my home, and stain my hands, 
 
 / A father's hands, with her young virgin blood. 
 
 \ What choose, where choice each way is fraught with 
 
 ill ? ^~ T~"^r ^ 
 
 ■//How sjhall I leave Tny ships and fail my men. 
 Who clamour for the deed to stay these winds. 
 And who shall blame them ? — Be it for the best ! ' 
 
 So, pleading Fate, about his neck he placed 
 Her harness, and his mind was changed within ; 
 Blinded and hardened, so the end to gain 
 
 
, THE house; of ATREUS 15, 
 
 He would dare all, religion, bonds of blood, 
 Sacred to God and man — so sets the sin. 
 Gendered in frenzy, to its fateful goal — 
 And daring thus, he dared to slay his child. 
 Tt) speed his sailing and a woman's war : 
 Such was the cause ! A girPs young life, her cries, 
 Beseechings to a father, what were they? • ^^ 
 The people would have blood to stay the storm. 
 The prayer was said, the slayers had the word 
 To bind her where she stood, a sight for tears. 
 And with the ruthless gag to choke the curse 
 Which from her lips upon the house might come 
 i In her last utterance. Desperately doomed 
 They seized her, and, her fair robes flowing down. 
 Like a dumb thing for sacrifice they held 
 Her who would speak — as oft in other days 
 Her voice had sounded in her father's halls. 
 In the clear song of blessing at the board 
 Where men sat feasting and their hearts were glad — 
 Fair now and speechless, and her piteous eyes 
 Smote to the soul the men who worked that woe. 
 
 What followed then I saw not, nor relate • 
 
 c 
 
20 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Let silence keep it. But the prophet's word 
 Lacks not fulfilment, and the law stands sure 
 That men shall learn by suffering. Let it be. 
 Nor ask to know what comes. 'Tis but to weep 
 To-day for the to-morrow. What will come 
 Brings its own burden and its healing too. 
 The present be our care and ordering well 
 Things nearest — our true task — and chiefly this. 
 To guard from violence this ancient land. 
 
 Enter Clytaemnestra^ attended, 
 
 I come, O Clytaemnestra, honouring 
 Thy queenly power, for meet it is that thou 
 Shouldst claim our homage when the throne awaits 
 Its absent lord, our king. But say, what news — 
 If news there be — bids mount these sacred fires. 
 In hopeful promise ? This I fain would learn. 
 Though in the silence I am still content. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. V^ 
 
 For ' promise,' as the Night is kind, may she 
 Send Dawn as kindly • but to hear of ' hope ' 
 Were all too weak a joy. Know thou then this, 
 The Argive host have taken Priam's town. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS zi 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Taken ! How saidst thou ? Nay, but speak again. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 I said that Troy was ours • speak I not clear ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 These tears will flow; 'tis joy that bids me weep. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Thine eye stands witness to thy Joyalty. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 j But what of proof ? Where is the proof of this ? 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Proof! I have proof, and fear no guile from heaven. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Speak'st thou of dreams, which come to win belief? 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 The fancies of a sleep-bound soul I heed not. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Or rumour, borne not on the wings of sleep? 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 What ! Am I chid and made a child in this ? 
 
 c z 
 
z-L THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 But since what time ? when was the city taken ? 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 This very night which now brings forth the day. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And who thus soon could come to tell the tale ? 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 ' Hephaistos ^/ a bright beam from Ida sending. 
 
 Posted the message over land and sea ^ 
 
 Ida to Lemnos, Lemnos to the peak 
 
 Of lonely Athos gave the signal flame ; 
 
 Thence, like a sun gold-glorious o'er the sea, 
 
 The watchman sent it flaming to the heights 
 
 Of far Macistus, which delaying not. 
 
 Nor caught by slumber, sent the message on. 
 
 Afar that beacon o'er Euripus' streams. 
 
 Made signal to Messapius' sentinels. 
 
 Who gave the countersign of answering flame. 
 
 Firing of withered heath a giant pile. 
 
 Thence gathering strength, unwearied, like a moon 
 
 * God of fire. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 23 
 
 Athwart Asopus' plain it roused the watch 
 Upon Cithaeron's crag and kindled up 
 Another speeder of that post of fire. 
 Kindled by eager hands a mightier glow 
 Than all before went up and shot afar 
 Across Gorgopis"* waters to the peak 
 Of Aegiplanctus, where the guard, uproused. 
 Failed in no duty there to speed it on. 
 Roaring to the great void they sent it up, 
 A mighty beard of flame, which, o'er the gulf 
 Saronic and its headland leaping, came 
 Down to Arachne's height, and thence at last, 
 From yonder beacon, on this roof it lit — 
 A light true kindled from Idaean fire \ 
 Such is the order of those courier flames. 
 By me prepared, and in their course fulfilled. 
 And in that race the first and last still win. 
 This is the proof and warrant that I give thee 
 Of tidings sent me by my lord from Troy ^. 
 
 ^ $doj To5' ovK dirainrov 'iScuov irvpos. An incidental reference, 
 perhaps, by Aeschylus to his own poetry and the inspiration he drew 
 from Homer. 
 
 ' This description of the beacons, together with the return of the 
 army on the morning after the taking of Troy, preserus certain 
 
1 
 
 24 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS | 
 
 > 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Now to the gods shall thanks ascend for this. 
 But, ere that be, this tale again unfold. 
 So welcome falls its message on mine ear. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 /This very day is Troy in Argive hands. 
 Methinks I hear their shouts, victorious cries, 
 With groans that blend not well. So pour me 
 
 forth 
 In the same vessel vinegar and oil, 
 Thou wilt not say they mingle lovingly. 
 Prone on the ground, their arms about the dead, 
 Free now no longer, these with wail lament 
 
 ^ 
 
 difficulties in the construction of the play (see Mr. Verrall's edition). 
 It seems, however, to the writer that such a compression is necessi- 
 tated by the exigencies of the stage, if the pageant of events, of 
 which the play is composed, was to be presented, and that Aeschylus 
 trusted to the imagination of the audience, aided by the vividness. 
 of his own descriptions, to bridge over, as it were, anything which i 
 may have been lacking in probability. Compare Shakespeare, in 
 the * chorus' to Heniy V: 
 
 ' Carry them here and there, jumping o'er times.' 
 
 I 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS i^ 
 
 Husbands and brothers ; children too their sires. 
 Those, spent with the night's work, in hungry 
 
 bands. 
 Wander the city through, and take at will 
 Lodgement and provender in Trojan homes ; 
 No guard to mount, poor wretches, they will sleep 
 Soundly to-night, and think themselves well stowed, 
 Beneath a roof, from frost and dews of heaven. 
 And if they reverence well the city's gods. 
 And spare the sacred places, they may come 
 Scathless away, captors uncaptured still. 
 But, ere that be, let no unrighteous greed 
 Fall on the host, to seize forbidden things. 
 Half oF the course is run, and there remains 
 The journey homewards and a safe return. 
 And, e'en though blameless from the gods they 
 
 come. 
 Yet there is still the an*ger of the dead, 
 Which watches from the grave. Evil may come, ' 
 Where yet no evil shows and all seems well. 
 These words from me, a woman, hast thou heard. 
 But let the good in all men's eyes prevail • 
 This, of all blessings, is the joy I choose. 
 
^6 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Lady, thou speakest as a man may speak, 
 
 Whose words are matched with wisdom. To the 
 
 gods 
 I now will render thanks, for I have heard 
 The proofs thou givest. And, indeed, the end 
 Brings no unworthy guerdon for our toils. 
 
 [Exh Clytaemnestra.'^ 
 
 Hail, lord of heaven, O Zeus ! hail, kindly Night ! 
 
 Night of renown, upbuilder of our fame ! 
 
 Who o'er the towers of Ilium hast cast i. 
 
 A net of doom, which neither old nor young J 
 
 May overleap — one ruin holds them all. • 
 
 Lord of the hearth and guest, I praise thee now • 
 
 For not in vain thy bow was bent, nor vain 
 
 Thy shaft was sped 'gainst him who wrought these 
 
 ills. 
 The blow has fallen and they know it thine. 
 
 'Twas said by one the gods regarded not 
 Mortals or those who trample under foot 
 Things sacred, but 'twas impiously said. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 27 
 
 For wealth breeds violence, when over-much 
 A house with pride of substance is increased. 
 Beyond the mean, where rests true happiness 
 For those in wisdom found. But whoso trusts 
 In wealth to save him, when those hidden springs 
 Of action in the light he shunned appear. 
 And his account is taken, oh, how poor 
 The reckoning then ! like metal at the touch. 
 He shows his nature and the thing he is. 
 Justice, 'twas not for him — the flying bird 
 A boy will follow — yet he thought to spurn 
 Her ancient landmarks and to make his will 
 
 I The measure of all law, and so his mark. 
 Set on his people, is the sin of all. 
 
 I And when at last he turns to heaven in prayer. 
 The gods, who judge injustice, seal his doom. 
 
 And such was Paris • he who, to the halls 
 Of Atreus coming, shamed the friendly board 
 By theft adulterous. And she who went, ' 
 Leaving the citizens the din of shields. 
 With crash of spears, and arming of the fleets. 
 Bringing a dower of death to Ilium, 
 
<r 
 
 ^11 
 z8 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Passed lightly through the gates and thought no 
 
 sin. 
 • Then in the palace halls, where minstrels sang, 
 Went up the loud lament : ^ Ah, for the home ! 
 Ah, for the home and for the lords thereof! 
 Ah, for the bed yet warm with her embrace ! 
 Behold him where he stands, in speechless woe, 
 The bridegroom, her fair spouse, dishonoured now, 
 His curses mocked by silence, and his eyes 
 Strained after her he loved across the sea ; 
 And that desire shall waste him, till he seem 
 A phantom wandering in the halls he ruled. 
 
 And marble forms are hateful and the grace 
 Of statues hateful to a husband's heart. 
 With the loved presence all delight is fled. 
 And if it come in visions of the night, 
 'Tis but to add more bitterness ; in vain 
 Hands are outstretched to grasp it — like a dream 
 It fades and passes on the wings of sleep.' 
 
 Such the hearth- sorrows, and yet more besides. 
 For heaviness is in the homes of Greece, 
 
 ( 
 
 I 
 
THE MOUSE OF ATREUS 29 
 
 Tears for the dead and things which pierce the 
 
 heart. 
 Who left them, him they knew ; what comes again 
 They know but as his ashes and an urn. 
 : A trafficker in gold, the lives of men. 
 Is Ares, and his balance is the spear • 
 Out of the fires of Ilium he sends 
 The parcelled dust he gathers for his gains. 
 Hard-wrung from tears, the tears of love which 
 
 weep 
 All that is left of what was once a man. 
 Then they lament him, then they praise the dead. 
 How one was great in battle and how one 
 Fell nobly daring — ' For another's wife,' 
 Some one will mutter, and the whisper grows 
 Against the Atreidae. Others by the wall 
 Of Ilium have found a lonely grave. 
 In earth which, hating, hides them ever more. 
 
 'Tis no light thing, the muttering of the storm, 
 Which gathers from a people's discontent ; 
 And the thought haunts me that we yet may hear 
 Something the night concealed, I know not what. 
 
30 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 For heaven beholds the blood of slaughtered men. 
 And marks the slayer. In his steps they tread, 
 The dark Avengers ; and, though lifted high 
 In fortune, if with right he be not found. 
 In a dark hour of changing circumstance, 
 They seize upon him then and hurl him down. 
 A fame that fills the world a man may fear ; 
 'Tis on the peaks the heavenly thunder strikes ; 
 Be mine a lot unenvied and to live 
 No conqueror, nor conquered, all my days. 
 
 The fire has spoken fair, and its report 
 
 Flies through the city ; but if it be true 
 
 Who knows ? "'TIS passing strange— I do mis- 
 doubt it. 
 
 Only a child, or some weak-witted thing. 
 
 Would build his hopes upon a burst of flame. 
 
 And see them quenched as soon with surer 
 news. 
 
 But 'tis a woman's way to make her hopes 
 
 The measure of belief — too credulous. 
 
 Her bounds ill-fenced are lightly overstepped ; 
 
 But soon 'tis passed, the tale that women cry. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS ^i 
 
 Soon shall we know whether these courier flames, 
 And space-o'erleaping beacons, have true warrant, 
 Or whether, like a dream, they but present 
 A joy to cheat the mind. For lo, I see 
 A herald making towards us from the shore. 
 About his brow a wreath of olive sprays. 
 His wear all travel-stained, as one who comes 
 With weight of news hard-sped. What he shall 
 
 say 
 Will be no smoking signal, but a word 
 Clear spoken, which shall either bring us joy. 
 Or else — but let that ' else ' remain unsaid : 
 Fair now be added to what seems so fair. 
 Who for the city keeps another thought, 
 Caught in his error, let the loss be his ! 
 
 Enter Herald. 
 HERALD. 
 
 Oh, hail, my native earth ! O Argos, hail ! 
 Ten years — and do I now salute thee here ? 
 Of all the hopes which snapped through all these 
 years. 
 
3^ THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Has this hope held ? for never did I think 
 
 To find a grave in thy beloved soil. 
 
 Now hail, thou land ! and hail, thou light of day ! 
 
 Hail, Zeus, thou lord of all ! and thou dread King, 
 
 Pythian Apollo, who hast spent thy shafts 
 
 Enough upon us by Scamander's stream. 
 
 As thou didst waste us be our saviour now ! 
 
 And all the city's gods I here salute. 
 
 And Hermes, prince of heralds, and their lord, 
 
 Heroes who sent us forth, yea all I pray 
 
 To welcome back the host the spear hath spared. 
 
 Hail, halls of kings! ye roofs beloved, hail! 
 
 Hail, awful seats and deities revered. 
 
 Serene similitudes that front the dawn. 
 
 With gladness in your eyes, as now the light 
 
 Smites them with gladness, O receive our king. 
 
 After long years, in kindness, as of yore ! 
 
 Dawn after night, he comes, for you and these. 
 
 Who here shall greet him, Agamemnon, lord ^. 
 
 Aye, give him greeting, as ye may to one 
 
 ^ In this address the Herald salutes the statues of the gods and the 
 seats of judgement before the palace, with a reference to the sacred 
 buildings, &c., on the Acropolis, which he would see from the stage. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS ^g 
 
 Who, with the mattock of avenging Ztus, 
 
 Has rooted out the very town of Troy ^ 
 
 Gone are her sacred places, razed her shrines, 
 
 And from the earth her place and name are 
 
 swept. 
 Such is the yoke which Atreus' elder son 
 Has laid upon that people, and he comes 
 Of all men living greatest in renown. 
 For neither Paris, nor the city with him. 
 Called to account, can boast that they have won 
 More than they suffered. On all counts condemned. 
 For tlieft and rapine, he has rendered up 
 His plunder, and in overthrow complete 
 Razed to the earth his own ancestral home — 
 A double debt, by Priam's house well paid ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Herald of the Achaean armies, hail ! 
 And welcome home in gladness. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 I am glad. 
 So glad that now I would not grudge to die. 
 
54 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Did love torment thee for thy native land ? 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 So that for joy mine eyes gush out with tears. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 A sickness sweet is that which ye have taken, 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 How so ? In plainness now this word unfold. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Smit with a love not unrequited here. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Did the land long to see her sons again ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Aye, and with tears — full many have I shed. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Why for the host this note of sadness now ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Silence is best and let it medidne this. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Were some thou fearedst, then, thy lords away ? 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS ^y 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Even as thou saidst — now would I gladly die. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 We have done well — and, for the length of time, 
 Not fared amiss — though there were hardships, 
 
 doubtless 5 
 But who, unless a god, can hope to pass 
 All his allotted life without some pain ? 
 For if I told the labours we endured. 
 Cabined on shipboard, sleeping hard and sore. 
 With want of everything for use by day — 
 And then on land, and there 'twas even worse. 
 Camped, as we were, beneath the walls of Troy, 
 The dews of heaven upon us, and the earth 
 Reeking with fevered swamps, our clothes in rags, 
 Rotting with damp and creatures breeding in — 
 And then the cold — the very birds fell dead — 
 Straight from the snows of Ida — and the heat 
 At noontide, in the summer, when the sea 
 Was laid out level in a windless sleep — 
 But why lament these things ? their pain is past ; 
 And past for some so well that they may sleep, 
 
 D 
 
i6 
 
 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Ml 
 
 4 
 
 And take no thought to stir themselves again! 
 
 But why count o'er the dead ? enough the blows 
 
 That beat about the living, griefs enough ! 
 
 Well rid of risks, 'tis something — nay, 'tis well. 
 
 For us, the remnant of the Argive host. 
 
 The gain outweighs the sorrow — now henceforth 
 
 The sun shall never set upon our deeds ; 
 
 Borne over land and sea, their fame shall find 
 
 This record : ^ To the gods, an Argive host. 
 
 Captors of Troy at length, nailed up these spoils. 
 
 And for men's knowledge in all time to come/ 
 
 These tidings hearing, laud ye, as ye may. 
 
 The city and her generals, and give thanks 
 
 To Zeus who wrought these things. My say is said. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 That your words win me I will not deny. 
 Good news for aged hearers still keeps green. 
 
 ETzter Clytaemnestra. 
 
 But for the house, and Clytaemnestra most. 
 These things set on, and I too have my share. 
 
 I 
 
THE HOUSE OE ATREUS 37 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA . 
 
 I raised a cry of joy erewhile for this. 
 
 When in the night a messenger arrived, 
 
 A flame of fire, with tidings how that Troy 
 
 Was taken and in ruin overthrown. 
 
 And some one chid me : ^ Art thou then persuaded 
 
 That Troy is sacked because a beacon burns ? 
 
 How like a woman's heart to fire at this ! ' 
 
 With words like these I was made seem to err. ^ 
 
 But still I sacrificed, and at my word, ^ 
 
 Though but a woman's, all the town took up 
 
 The cry of triumph, and the sacred fires 
 
 j From willing hands sent fragrance up to heaven. 
 
 ' And now what need that thou shouldst tell me more, 
 Since from the king himself the tale I'll take ? 
 My care be now to give him welcome fit. 
 My lord of worship. To a woman's eyes 
 What gladder sight than husband home returning. 
 Safe from the field of battle, when his gates 
 Roll back to bring him in ? Take thou from me 
 This message to my husband, that he come 
 Quickly, and he shall find love in his city, 
 A faithful wife at home, even as he left her, 
 
 D 1 
 
2 8 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 A watchdog of his hearth, in all things true, 
 Jealous for him and hating those he hates. 
 Constant and steadfast, to no pleasures turning, 
 A heart of tempered steel, and in her hands ' 
 
 His honour stainless still through all these years. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Such words as these, with truth to swell their flight, : 
 
 Do honour to a woman nobly born. 
 
 ^Exit Clytaemnestra.' 
 
 Thus has she spoken, and thus thou hast heard, 
 
 A message fair for fair interpreting. ' 
 
 But tell me, herald, for I fain would hear^ 
 
 Of Menelaus, is he safely back, ; 
 
 And comes he with you to the land he loves ? j 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Fair words I'd speak, but, if they be not true, \ 
 
 The joy, for friends, would not endure for long. 
 
 CHORUS. • 
 
 Now might the true be wedded to that fair, | 
 
 For, disunited, soon doth falsehood show. \ 
 
 HERALD. ; 
 
 The man has vanished from the Achaean host, : 
 
 He and the ship he sailed in — 'tis the truth. ■ 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 59 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Saw you him start from Troy, or did a storm 
 Divide him in mid ocean from the fleet ? 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Like a skilled bowman thou hast hit the mark. 
 And gathered in one word a length of woe. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Living or dead, does no one know his fate ? 
 Comes there no rumour of him from the sea ? 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Nay, no one knows to tell, except the Sun, 
 Whose rays give nourishment o'er all the earth. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 But of this storm, by wrath of deities. 
 
 How came it on the fleet, and what the end ? 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 To mar good news with ill, on one fair day. 
 Beseems not. There are gods whose worship holds 
 In each, due ordered, but 'tis separate still. 
 For when a messenger of woe comes in, 
 
40 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Bearing upon his face the fearful tale, 
 He scarce may utter, of defeat and death^ 
 And from his lips a hapless city takes 
 A reeling blow, and knows her armies fallen. 
 Desolate homes and victims driven forth. 
 For sacrifice by Ares, where he plies 
 His iron goad, black with the blood of men, 
 Twin-pointed, which he loves, his weapon dread- 
 Laden with woes like these, he well may raise 
 To the dark goddesses a cry of pain. 
 But coming to a town filled full of joy. 
 For safety and success and things well done — 
 How shall I mix with evil such fair news, |i 
 
 Telling the story of the storm that smote 
 The Achaean host, not without wrath from heaven? 
 For Fire and Water, bitter things before, 
 Sware then together, and made good that pledge. 
 Whelming Achaia's hapless armament. 
 'Twas in the night when that sea-sorrow came. 
 In sudden onset from the Thracian hills 
 The winds fell on us, dashing ship on ship. 
 And, in a threshing storm of rain and surge. 
 Whirled them away, unshepherded and lost; 
 
 i 
 
 I » 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 4.1 
 
 And when the sun came up, we saw the sea 
 
 Strewn with the dead, like flowers, and wreckage 
 
 wide. 
 Us and our ship, whose hull still held, some god 
 Stole us away, or begged us off — who knows ? 
 For 'twas no mortal man who took the helm. 
 Surely 'twas Fortune's self that came aboard. 
 And brought us through that sea, which brake not in, 
 Nor worked our death upon a rock-bound shore. 
 So we escaped a watery grave, and then. 
 In the white day, misdoubting our own fortune, 
 We brooded in our minds on this new loss 
 The host had suffered, whelmed and beaten down. 
 And now, of those if any still survive. 
 Doubtless for dead they take us, as we them. 
 But hope we for the best ! for Menelaus 
 Soonest and first should come. It cannot be 
 That "'tis the will of Zeus his race should perish. 
 And if, where'er he be, the sun beholds him 
 Still living in the light, there is yet hope 
 That to his home he will return again. 
 This is my tale, and what thou hear'st is true. 
 
 [Exit Herald.] 
 
41 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Who could have given that name ? what power unseen 
 Guided his tongue, that she was ' Helen ^ ' called ? 
 Spear-wooed in battle, bane of ill for men, 
 For ships and cities, well she proved her name. 
 When, passing from her curtained bower, she went 
 Before the felon West across the sea. 
 And after her a mighty hunt of men. 
 Shield-bearing, stooped upon the vanished trail, 
 Path of the oar far-smitten to the strand. 
 Whose woods would cry the havoc of that fray. 
 A bride of sorrow for the sons of Troy, 
 By wrath pursued, which he, the god of guests. 
 Sent for his vengeance on the song they sang. 
 Their triumph of an hour. But, changing soon. 
 That bridal hymn became a dirge of tears 
 For Priam's ancient city, crying woe 
 On Paris, with lament through all those days 
 She wept the grievous slaughter of her sons. 
 
 A pest, a lion's whelp, within the house 
 
 * 'EXivav . . . tXcTTToXts, &c., a play on words which cannot be 
 reproduced in English. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 43 
 
 A man did rear, a suckling, for the teat 
 
 Still yearning ; in his tender days full gentle, 
 
 A joy to childhood and by age caressed. 
 
 And oft he licked the hand, and, for the need 
 
 His belly taught him, fawned with wheedling ways. 
 
 But, elder grown, the temper of his race 
 
 Showed in him, and his nurture he repaid 
 
 By ravage of the flocks, that with their blood 
 
 The house was dabbled, and who reared him knew 
 
 The pest from heaven which they had harboured there, 
 
 J 
 So would I say to Eium's city came 
 
 A dream of wealth, a seeming-windless calm. 
 
 Dart of soft eyes, the tender wound of hearts, 
 
 A very flower of love and all delight. 
 
 But what she was the bitter blossoming 
 
 Of that ill marriage proved, a bride of woe. 
 
 By Zeus the Avenger sent, in evil hour 
 
 For Paris and the race of Priam's sons. 
 
 Lives among men an ancient word of fear. 
 
 That wealth, grown great, breeds oflfepring for the 
 
 race 
 In progeny of woe. But rather say I 
 
44 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 The unholy deed the parent is of ill. 
 
 Like breeding like, but, for the righteous home. 
 
 Fair through all time its place and name are set. 
 
 But ancient Pride, or soon or late, doth breed 
 
 A younger Pride, whose brood is Insolence 
 
 And godless Daring — curses twain that come. 
 
 With evil fraught, among the sons of men. 
 
 But Righteousness in smoky cabins shines. 
 
 And honours lives of worth • though palaces 
 
 Be gilded, yet, if hands unclean are there. 
 
 With eyes averted thence she turns to homes 
 
 Where reverence dwells, nor heeds the power of 
 
 wealth 
 Ill-praised ; and to the goal she guideth all. 
 
 'Enter Agamemnon In a chariot^ followed by 
 Cassandra^ also In a chariot. Soldiers^ 
 attendants^ (^c. In the course of Agamem- 
 non s speech Clytaemnestra^ attended by 
 female slaves^ comes out of the Talace, 
 
 Ah there, approach now, the king, the conquering | 
 lord. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 4.^ 
 
 OfTroja the sacker, of Atreus the son! 
 
 How shall I honour thee^ with what words address 
 
 thee. 
 In the due mean of fitting compliment ? 
 For, among men, ill-minded are there many. 
 Who semblance set above reality. 
 So for misfortune all will spare a tear. 
 But the griePs wounding bites not to the heart • 
 And, for success, from envious faces wrung 
 There lack not smiles, to give it countenance. 
 But the discerning shepherd of men's thoughts 
 Marks what the eye would cover, when it shows 
 The watery gleam of welcome in dissemblance 
 For what the true heart feels. But thou, O king — 
 And let the word be spoken — in that time, 
 Waging a war for Helen, didst appear 
 In lineaments ungracious to mine eyes ; 
 Nor did I deem it well that thou shouldst give 
 Courage to men death-doomed by sacrifice. 
 But now, with kinder feelings and a heart 
 Warmed by thy presence, we behold thee here. 
 Crowned by success the labours that have been 
 Look dark no more. In time thou now shalt learn. 
 
^ THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 By inquest made, who of the dwellers here 
 Guarded the state with truth, and who with guile. 
 
 AGAMEMNON (speaking from his chariot). -. 
 
 To Argos first, and to the gods who keep 
 The city, be my salutation said • 
 They who have wrought with me for my return, 
 And for the rights I've wrung from Priam's town, 
 s For in that cause, not waged with words, where we 
 Claimed judgement in the overthrow of Troy, 
 Into the bloody urn, with one accord. 
 They cast their votes, and that which stood beside it 
 Was empty found, for all that Hope came near 
 To cheat it at the rim ^. And now goes up 
 The smoke to heaven, where that doomed city burns, 
 A reeking holocaust, which, heaving still. 
 Gasps in its ashes, ere it sinking dies. 
 For this 'tis meet we render to the gods 
 Signal thanksgiving, since the net of wrath, 
 We cast, has closed them in ; what time the beast. 
 The Argive monster, brood of horse and shield, 
 
 * A metaphor from the two urns in a court of justice, into which 
 the votes for the verdict were placed. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 4.7 
 
 About the setting of the Pleiades, 
 
 Leapt on his prey and laid it in the dust : 
 
 Leapt as he would, a lion in his might, 
 
 O'er those proud towers, and lapped the blood of 
 
 kings. 
 This word, in prelude, for the gods be said. 
 Now for thy thoughts : I know and I have heard 
 What thou hast told me, and I think with thee. 
 Few are the men, who, when a friend's success ^ 
 Sets him above them, do not hate him for it. 
 And envy, like a poison at the heart. 
 Doubles, for him it takes, the grief that's there • 
 Burdened with his own troubles, he laments 
 The other's better fortune which he sees. 
 I speak of what I know, for those who seemed 
 Most to my service bound, what were they proven ? 
 A glass of friendship, shadows of a shade. 
 Only Odysseus, who against his will 
 Set sail, once with me, never swerved aside ; 
 This I will say, be he alive or dead. 
 And for the rest, touching the things of state 
 And worship of the gods, we will advise us 
 What calls for our concern • what we find good 
 
4-8 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 That it may so endure ; and what grows rank, 
 
 As we are well disposed, we shall not fail 
 
 To use such means of wholesome surgery 
 
 As shall prevent the further spreading sore. 
 
 Till then, I go within, where, at my hearth, 
 
 The gods, who sent me forth, shall take my worship, 
 
 Brought safely home again. May Victory, 
 
 As she has followed me, be with me still ! 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Men of our city, Argive elders here, 
 I shame not in your presence to avow 
 The love I bear my husband, for with time 
 Maiden reluctance weareth and we speak 
 More freely of these things. Full well I know 
 The wretched life I led through all these years. 
 The while my lord lay under Ilium. 
 First for a woman, severed from her mate. 
 To sit at home bereft is grievous woe • 
 Hearing the rumours which come posting in, 
 One following on another, and each worse, 
 To fill the house with dread. And if this man 
 Had half the wounds received of which the tale 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 49 
 
 Came flowing to his doors, methinks a net 
 Had not more holes to reckon ^ deaths as many 
 Were put upon him, Geryon ^ himself 
 Had wanted bodies. In such sort was I 
 Widowed by rumours and of my own life 
 Brought near to make an end. And thus it is 
 That at my side thy son, Orestes, stands not. 
 As well he should, the pledge of faith between us. 
 To give thee welcome. Marvel not at this • 
 He is well cared for by our good spear-friend, 
 Strophius the Phocian ; who, in kindly sort. 
 Warned me of what might come, the risk for thee 
 : Beneath the walls of Troy, and if a m.ove 
 J From our home-brawlers should unhinge the state ; 
 ' Adding, as so he might, that 'tis the world 
 
 I 
 
 j Ever to trample on a fallen man. 
 Seek no occasion for mistrust in this. 
 As for myself, these tearful springs that flowed 
 Have spent their uses and are all dried up. 
 Sore are these eyes with weeping, watching late, 
 
 1 
 
 And longing for thy coming and the flame 
 Of night-conducting torches which were wont 
 
 ^ A fabled monster. 
 
yo THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 To bring thee to my bed. And when I slept, 
 ' The tiny trumpet of the gnat would shake me. 
 To start from dreams a cheating hour would show 
 Stuffed with thy sufferings. All this have I borne. 
 But now, these sorrows past, with a free heart 
 I hail my husband, watchdog of the fold. 
 Sure forestay of the ship, pillar deep based 
 That bears the soaring roof, land after storm 
 To mariners appearing past all hope, 
 A gushing spring to thirsty travellers — 
 Sooth, sweet it is to find escape from ills. 
 As these my words in honour of him show. 
 And may no envy mar what stands so well. 
 For we have borne enough ! Now, dear my lord, 
 Step from thy car ; but on the ground, O king ^, 
 Set not that foot which trampled Ilium. 
 Slave-girls, to whom this office is commanded. 
 Why tarry ye with coverlets to strew 
 The path that he shall tread ? Straight let it bloom 
 In purple for his passage to a home 
 Unlooked for, even as Justice shows the way. 
 
 * Used emphatically in the original in order to excite prejudice 
 with the crowd, and suggestive of Eastern tyranny. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 51 
 
 The rest, beneath the ordaining hand of heaven. 
 Counsel, that sleepeth not, shall well dispose. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Daughter of Leda, guardian of my home. 
 Thy speech is like my absence, to such length 
 Thou hast outstretched it. But the meed of praise, 
 With grace to recommend it, better comes 
 From others. For the rest, pamper me not 
 With women's stufF about me ; gape me forth 
 No earth -prostrating clamour such as cries 
 To Eastern kings, nor make my path a mark 
 For eye of envy with strewn tapestries. 
 Keep for the worship of the gods these things. 
 1 1, at least, hold it for a thing of fear 
 I To go, a mortal man, on paths laid out 
 ;For sumptuous treading. As a man, I say, 
 jHonour me, not a god. Fame cries aloud, 
 
 ; Without foot-stuffs to trample, and a mind 
 
 I 
 
 iThat harbours no ill thoughts is heaven's best gift. 
 iHim only call we blessed to whom it comes 
 ;To end his days in fair prosperity. 
 If all is ordered so, I have no fear. 
 
 E 
 
T^ 
 
 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Nay then, saving thy judgement, tell me this. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 My judgement holds, be sure, and weakens not. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Didst thou, in fear, make such a vow to heaven ? 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Thou hast my final word, as e'er man spake. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 What then, in such a case, had Priam done ? 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Priam ? I ween on purple he had trod. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Why should thy greatness yield to carping tongues ?] 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 And yet the people^s voice has no mean power. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Who moves no jealousy no envy wins. 
 
 m 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS yj 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Ah, but a woman should not love contention ! 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Yet there are times when power may yield with grace. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Thou ratest high this victory, methinks. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 'Tis naught for thee, give me my way in this. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Then, since thou'lt have it so, let one with speed 
 
 Loose from my feet the service of these shoes. 
 
 And as the sea-grained purple path I tread, .^ 
 
 May no god look from far with envious eye. 
 
 I should take shame indeed, with tramplings rude. 
 
 To mar this web and waste what wealth has bought. 
 
 ! Of this, then, thus. This stranger damsel now 
 
 I Friendly bestow. Zeus with propitious eye 
 I 
 Looks upon those who gently use their power • 
 
 For none bears willingly the captive's yoke. 
 
 But she, the chosen flower of all we took. 
 
 Fair present from the host, followed me here — 
 
 E 1 
 
f^ 
 
 ^4- THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 And so, since thou constrainest me in this, 
 Treading on purple, to my halls I pass. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 There is a sea — and who shall drain it dry ? — 
 That breeds good store of purple, oozing fresh 
 For dye of vestments, and this house, O king. 
 Lacks not of these and knows no poverty. 
 Trampling of many garments had I vowed. 
 In ransom of thy life, if by such means 
 The oracles I sought had shown the way. 
 For while the root lives on, the branches spread. 
 For shadow when the sultry dog-star reigns. 
 So now, returning to thy hearth and home. 
 As warmth in winter does thy presence show ; 
 And, when the vintage in the halls is pressed, 
 'Tis a fresh coolness when the lord is there. 
 
 Agamemnon enters the Falace, 
 
 Zeus, O Zeus ! 
 
 Who crownest all, now crown but my desires ; 
 
 All else accomplish as it be thy will ! 
 
 Clytaemnestra follovjs Into the "Palace, 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 55 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Why at the portals of my boding heart 
 
 Flutters this sign of that which works within ^, 
 
 Unasked, in oracles still bodying forth 
 
 These presages of fear? Why among dreams, 
 ' Such as unmeaning pass, assurance strong 
 
 Disowns not these ? About the anchor stones 
 jThe sand has gathered since upon the shore 
 ! Were flung the cables of the fleet that went 
 I To Ilium's strand, and of their safe return 
 
 Mine eyes are witness here, and yet the strain 
 
 Hymns in my heart of the Erinys now. 
 
 With fair assurance gone my hopes depart ; 
 ! My heart is darkly stirred, a climbing dread 
 
 Comes on wild, eddying streams^ which, beating 
 
 up, 
 . Surge at my breast, and in my mind sets in 
 
 A knowledge like a tide it may not turn. 
 , Yet still I pray that false the prophet strain 
 
 May fall, and in fulfilment come not so. 
 
 ^ Mr, Verrall, who reads SeTyfm, supposes that the metaphor is 
 Ifrom a sign (something fluttering) which a professional diviner may- 
 have used before the door. This answers well to the general sense. 
 
^6 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Lo now prosperity ; a health flushed high. 
 It owns no limits ; yet disease is there. 
 Its neighbour to the wall close pressing still. 
 "^ ' And many a man has headed to his fate, 
 Holding his course to where the hidden reef 
 Takes the ship down. Yet Fear, his bales out 
 
 flinging. 
 Has saved a house from overweight of ills. 
 That yet had foundered. Still with bounteous hand 
 Zeus doth provide, and from the furrowed field 
 Sendeth his increase for the times of dearth. 
 
 But a man's blood upon the dark earth shed. 
 
 Who may restore him ? By what charm or spell ■ 
 
 i 
 
 Comes back the life? Nay, not for those to heaved 
 Most dear would Fate, for all their piety, I 
 
 Yield to our prayers to raise them up again. ! 
 
 Dark at my heart these thoughts of boding still ' 
 
 Throng to the utterance, and, if Paten's decrees. 
 
 Upon the skein of purpose intertwined. 
 
 Flowed vocal off, the burden it should bear 
 
 My tongue had poured. By now, in hopeless wise. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 57 
 
 Mutters the labouring thought • an underworld 
 Flames in my heart cloud-weighted, and a fear, 
 Wide-eyed for what may come, is watching still ^. 
 
 Enter Clytaemnestra coming out of the Falace. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Get thee in too, Cassandra, thee I say ; 
 
 Since, not in wrath, hath Zeus ordaine d that thou 
 
 Shouldst share our stead and store, and in our 
 halls 
 
 Stand a t hi^ alta r in the throng of slaves. 
 
 Step from that chariot down and leave disdain. 
 ' Even Alcmena^s son, as we are told. 
 
 Was sold a slave and bore the captive's yoke. 
 I But, if such fate be thine, be thankful then 
 I To find a home with lords of ancient wealth. 
 I Gleaners of wealth they never thought to win, 
 i These, without rule, in roughness use their slaves. 
 ! Thou hast from us what custom ordereth. 
 
 * The last lines are a paraphrase. The end of the chorus takes up 
 the idea of the beginning, in which the heart of the speaker is con- 
 ceived as the priestess of an oracular shrine, who is sitting in a dark 
 cavern, agitated, as it were, by cross-currents of inspiration, and 
 unable to decide which decree of fate she is intended to utter. 
 
5 8 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 She speaks to thee — a plain word for thy hearing ; 
 And, as thou'rt taken in the toils of Fate, 
 Thou'It yield, an so thou wilt — haply thou wilt 
 not. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA, 
 
 Nay, an she be not, swallow-like, possessed 
 Of some unknown, barbaric tongue, my words 
 Must reach her mind and move her to compliance. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Follow her • for thy need her words are best — 
 Nay, be persuaded, leave this chariot seat. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 I have no leisure, look thou, at these doors 
 To tarry, for beside the hearth within 
 The beasts stand ready for the slaying fires — 
 A joy we dared not hope for ; and if thou 
 Wilt have thy part in this, make no delay. 
 But if thou understand'st not as I speak. 
 With thy strange hand, instead of voice, reply. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 59 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 A clear interpreter she seems to need • 
 Wild is her look, and like a beast new-taken. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA . 
 
 Aye, mad she is^ and listens to the thoughts 
 Which move her mind for evil ; coming here 
 From a new-taken town, she scorns, forsooth. 
 To bear the yoke • but there's a bit for pride. 
 And mettle that shall foam away in blood — 
 Thou, woman, dost thou hear ? I'll stay no more. 
 Nor more endure to be dishonoured thus. 
 
 \Clytaemnestra re-enters the Pa/ace.^ 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 But I, for I pity her, will not be angry. 
 Come then, O hapless one, this car forsaking. 
 Put on the yoke thy fate has brought thee now. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah, ah! Ah! Heaven! Earth ! 1 
 Apollo ! Apollo ! 
 
 * 'OtototoT TToiToi 55. Thls curious cry does not, of course, admit 
 of translation, and some such equivalent as the above must be 
 sought J and similarly in other passages in this scene. 
 
6o THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What means this calling on Apollo's name ? 
 Not to his heart were such a cry as this. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah, ah ! Ah ! Heaven ! Earth ! 
 Apo llo! Apollo ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Once more amiss upon the god she calls. 
 Who has no part in tears. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Apollo ! Apollo ! 
 God of the gate, destroyer that I know. 
 Thou hast destroyed me now and utterly ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Methinks of her own ills sheM prophesy • 
 
 A slave, and yet the god breathes in her still. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Apollo ! Apollo ! 
 
 God of the gate, destroyer that I know. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 6i 
 
 Ah, whither hast thou brought me? to what 
 house ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The House of Atreus — If thou know'st not this, 
 I tell thee, and thou'lt find my words are true. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah! Ah! 
 
 A house accursed, a house whose walls have seen 
 Deeds of self-slaughter, streams of kindred blood, 
 Of human blood shed dark upon its floor. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Keen scented seems the stranger, like a hound ; 
 Aye, and the blood she's tracking she will find. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah! Ah! 
 
 See they are there to witness to my words. 
 Babes who lament their slaying and their flesh 
 In that fell banquet eaten by their sire. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Of thy divining fame we all have heard — 
 As who has not? — but seek no prophets here. 
 
€^ THE HOUSE OF ATREUS , 
 
 CASSANDRA, 
 
 Ah! Out, alas! What is she planning now ? i 
 
 What woe is this? She works — she brings it 
 
 on — 
 O foul ! O hapless house ! O past all cure, j 
 
 To friends unbearable — and no help nigh ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 These are dark utterances I know not of; 
 The first I knew — the city cries of them. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah, miserable! Ah, wilt thou do this thing ? 
 Cheering him with the bath, thy wedded lord ? 
 Ah, can I tell it ? nearer and more near. 
 Hand after hand outstretching for the end. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Lost am I now, no meaning do I find 
 In these blind oracles of mystic lore. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah, ah, then ! Ah ! 
 
 What is this thing ? a net — 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS ^3 
 
 deed of hell ! a net of death, a snare — 
 Herself the snare and partner of his bed — 
 Now let the rout, for blood insatiate still. 
 Shriek o'er the house their ancient cry of death. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What is this Fury that thou bidst to raise 
 A death-cry o'er the house ? It cheers me not. 
 And at my heart the ruddy drops, that set 
 Through all my veins, run pale, as when a life 
 Ebbs from a mortal wound, and eyes grow dim, 
 Swift darkening in the closing shades of death. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah, look ! The heifer there 
 
 Keep from the bull. With her black crafty horn 
 
 She'd gore him — Ah ! she has him now — 
 
 Smites him — he falls — in the bath 1 tell thee — 
 
 there. 
 In the murderous bath the bloody deed is done. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 1 cannot boast high skill in auguries. 
 
 Yet, that some ill is here, these seem to show. 
 
6^ THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 But by that way what word of cheer is sent 
 Ever to mortals? "Tis a craft of words. 
 All ill, and fraught with fear and heaviness. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah ! Ah ! Alas ! 
 
 Ah, for my hapless lot ! 
 
 Wailing another's fate, I mourn my own. 
 
 Why didst thou bring me hither thus forlorn. 
 
 Unless with thee to die ? Ah, wherefore not ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Wild are thy words, some god inspires thy lay. 
 
 Sad as the nightingale, who ceases not. 
 
 For Itys, Itys mourning, to bewail 
 
 With piteous plaint the unending woe she bears. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Alas, the clear- voiced warbler ! with her life 
 The gods at least dealt tenderly, and gave 
 A feathered form to change her ; but for me t 
 
 Waits the sharp rending of dividing steel. i 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 6^ 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Still thickly coming, from what god are sent 
 These cries of fear and pity, mated still 
 With song melodious ? whence this knowledge sure 
 That sets its bounds upon thy path of woe? 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Woe for the bed ! Woe for the nuptial rites 
 Of Paris, fraught with ruin for his race ! 
 And thou Scamander, by whose banks of yore 
 I grew in youthful bloom, my native stream ! 
 By other waters now, on that dark shore 
 Of wailing, shall my boding cries be heard. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What is this word ill-omened, that a child 
 
 Might know for such ? — It wrings my heart with pain. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah for the travail ! Ah the labour lost ! 
 
 The travail of the city now no more ! 
 
 The sacrifices of the kine that cropped 
 
 The sweet flower-meadows of my father's fields — 
 
6G THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Victims in vain ! and I, the wayward thing. 
 Who still foreknew the end, like them must fall. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Still the same strain ; surely some deity 
 With hard intent bears down upon thy soul. 
 To hymn this dirge of death — but what it means 
 I cannot trace, nor what the end may be. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Lo now, no more, as bride from forth her veil. 
 
 The oracle shall peer, but coming on. 
 
 Like seas which roll against the rising sun 
 
 Before the breeze of morning, it shall bring 
 
 A mightier woe than these ; so will I speak 
 
 Darkly no more. And bear me witness now. 
 
 How on the trail of time I follow down 
 
 Foul deeds wrought long ago. For from this house 
 
 Departeth not a rout of sister fiends. 
 
 Drunken with kindred blood, avengers still 
 
 Of outraged bed and violated vows. 
 
 There all day long above those towers they sit. 
 
 Choiring their threnody of ancient crime. 
 
 The curse inherited of blood that cries 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 67 
 
 For still more blood, and where shall be the end ? 
 
 Have I5 like archer true, now hit the mark, 
 I Or strolling cheat and lying prophet am I ? 
 i Swear now and bear me witness before all 
 
 That of this house the evil deeds I know. 
 I 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 I How could an oath, itself a baneful thing. 
 Be healer of these ills ? Yet do I marvel 
 That, bred beyond the seas, thou know'st to speak 
 Of things done here as though a native born. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 The Seer, Apollo, set me in this office. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Was it desire for thee which moved him thus ? 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Time was when shame would seal my lips in this. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Aye, in good fortune we grow dehcate. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Mighty the charm with which he wrought on me. 
 
 F 
 
I 
 
 68 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 I 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Did he prevail and win thee to his love ? 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 He had my promise, but 1 kept not faith. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And had he then bestowed on thee his gifts ? '. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 / Aye, all their woes the city knew from me. 
 
 ; CHORUS. 
 
 What was his vengeance ? How didst thou escape it , 
 
 \ CASSANDRA. 
 
 After that thing no man believed my words. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 To us at least thy words seem all too true ! 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah! Ah, ah! 
 
 Woe, woe is me ! Once more 
 
 The throes of present vision sweep upon me — 
 
 See, like dream-phantoms, there before the house. 
 
 They sit, the forms of children, done to death 
 
 II 
 
 r 
 
 I 
 
! 
 
 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 6<) 
 
 By those who were their nearest ; in their hands 
 
 The flesh, those inward parts, served for that meal. 
 
 The helJish banquet tasted by their sire. 
 
 For these, I say, vengeance devising waits 
 
 A dastard lion, who has made his bed 
 
 Where he that comes should lie, the rightful lord — 
 
 Aye, and my master too, for I must bear 
 
 The captive's yoke. And he, the lord of ships, 
 
 Dium's destroyer, knows not that she-wolf. 
 
 Who stretched her tongue in welcome long drawn 
 
 out. 
 How like a lurking Ate she will work 
 His doom ; such things she dares, against the male 
 To raise her hand, a woman ! What may I call her ? 
 What evil beast, for likeness ? A she-dragon, 
 A Scylla of the rocks, the seaman's bane, 
 A womb of hell, her issuing brood destruction. 
 And death for those her nearest ! With what joy, 
 Shouted as when the tide of battle turns. 
 She hailed, or seemed to hail, his safe return ! 
 And if that likeness now no credence win. 
 What matter? Come it will, and when it comes, 
 Pity will own me for a prophet true. 
 
 F 2 
 
yo THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 V CHORUS. 
 
 The fearful banquet of the children's flesh 
 Thyestes tasted, that I know full well. 
 And shudder as I hear it truly told ; 
 But of the rest I cannot trace the clue. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 On Agamemnon's death thou'lt look, I say. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Ah, miserable ! hush that ill-boding word 1 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 No healing god there is to stay it now. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 If it must be j but may it never be ! 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Whilst thou art praying they prepare to slay, 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What man deviseth this accursed thing ? 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Widely thy glance has missed mine oracles. 
 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 71 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The plot I see not which could work this deed. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 And yet, too well, I know the speech of Greece ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Greek are the Pythian chaunts, yet hard to spell 1. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah ! Ah ! this fire ! it rushes on me now ! 
 
 Spare me, Apollo ! Ah ! Ah ! woe is me ! 
 
 See there the lioness, who with the wolf 
 
 In absence of the noble lion couched, 
 
 Slays me all helpless ! In the poisoned cup. 
 
 Her wrath prepares, she pours my life-blood in. 
 
 And, with the blade she whets against her lord, 
 
 j ^ A humorous hit, with reference to the ambiguity of the oracles. 
 jAnother instance of this unexpected humour may be noticed at the 
 jcnd of the hurried consultation of the Chorus when they hear the cry 
 !of Agamemnon (p. y^). This may possibly have been intended to 
 convey incidentally a satire on a multitude of counsellors in a crisis. 
 
 The treatment of the part of the Chorus all through this scene is 
 very noticeable. It provides a subdued accompaniment and foil, as 
 lit were, to the outpourings of Cassandra, and prevents the emotion 
 getting < out of hand.' 
 
72 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Wreaks her dark vengeance for my bringing here. 
 
 Why do I wear these things of laughter more — 
 
 Sceptre and prophet stole about my neck ? 
 
 If I must die, thee will I trample too — 
 
 Go and enrich some other doom than mine ! 
 
 But see the god himself is stripping me 
 
 Of the prophetic robe, in which he willed 
 
 To trick me forth for laughter, by my friends 
 
 And enemies despised, and all in vain ! 
 
 ' Mountebank,^ ^ beggar,' ^ starveling ' were m 
 
 names ! 
 And now the Seer, his latest vengeance taking, 
 Brings me, his servant, to a doom like this; 
 And I, who at the altar of my sire j 
 
 Once ministered, must stand beside the block. 
 And bow me to the bloody stroke of death. 
 Yet not unheeded by the gods we die ; 
 For there shall come a champion of our cause. 
 To slay his mother and avenge his sire. 
 An exiled wanderer, to the land he left 
 Returning, he shall set upon this doom 
 The crowning stones — such oath the gods ha\ 
 
 sworn — 
 
I THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 75 
 
 1 
 
 j The unfinished pile, his father^s prostrate form, 
 ' Shall be the mark far-seen to guide him home. 
 But why should I, an alien in the land. 
 Lament my fate, since they who wrought that 
 woe, 
 i And laid our Troy in ashes, now must drain 
 
 The cup of reckoning which the gods have filled ? 
 : Come death ! — I go to meet thee. Ye dark doors 
 ! Of Hades there before me, hear my prayer ! 
 One last I offer ; mortal be the stroke. 
 And without pain, in darkness, may a sleep 
 Bear on the stream of blood my life away ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O wretched in thy fate, as thou art wise. 
 Woman, if to thy knowledge, as thy words 
 Would show, thy destiny has been declared. 
 Why, like a victim to the altar led, 
 Goest thou with steps unshrinking to thy doom ? 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Friends, there is no escape ; delay is vain. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And yet of time the latest hour prevails. 
 
1 
 
 74 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 The hour has come ; by flight were little gained. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Enduring art thou as thy heart is brave. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Among the fortunate none hear such praise. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Yet to die nobly is to mortals dear. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Ah, for thee, father, and thy children true ! 
 
 She starts back, 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What fear is this that from the doors thou startest ? 
 
 t 
 I 
 
 CASSANDRA. ! 
 
 Faugh ! '■■ 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What moves this loathing? Some new fancy stirs : 
 thee. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 These halls breathe murder and the reek of blood. 
 
 I 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 75 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Nay, 'tis the smell of the hearth-sacrifice. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 As smokes corruption from the mouldering tomb. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 No Syrian odours for the house were this ! 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 But I will go within these halls to wail 
 The fate of Agamemnon and my own — 
 
 ' Enough of life ! Ah, friends, not idly thus 
 I shrank at entering in. Bear me this witness. 
 When for a woman slain a woman dies, 
 
 i And for a man ill-wed a man shall fall ; 
 
 j This grace from strangers in my death I crave. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O hapless one, I pity thee thy doom. 
 
 I 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 1 Once more I fain would speak, not to lament 
 \ This fate of mine, but to the sun I pray, 
 Looking my last upon his hght, that those. 
 
7^ THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Who yet shall come in vengeance, may requite 
 These murderers for the death that I must die. 
 Their easy victim, a poor, helpless slave. 
 Alas for mortal things ! Where they are well, 
 Changed by a shadow — and, for misery, 
 A wetted sponge may blot the picture out. 
 And this, by far, than that more piteous is. 
 
 \Cassandra enters the Palace.'^ 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Possessing much, he hungers still for more ; 
 This is prosperity. And who will turn 
 From finger-pointed halls the more that comes 
 Than that enough, with ^ Enter now not here\^ 
 So to this man the Blessed Ones have given 
 To capture Priam^s town, and he returns 
 Honoured of heaven. But now if he must pay 
 The blood-debt of his sires, and by his death 
 Requital make for those who died of yore. 
 Who among mortals, hearing this, may say 
 He was not born to tread his path in fear? 
 
 AGAMEMNON (yjlthin). 
 Ah, I am struck — Oh, foul — a mortal blow ! 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 77 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Hark ! Wounded unto death^ who cries within ? 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Again — woe 's me — a second time struck down ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The groaning of the king would prove 'tis done ! 
 But while there's time, for safety take we counsel. 
 
 The 'Elders in succession, 
 
 ELDER I . 
 
 To you my counsel is to raise the cry, 
 And call a rescue of the citizens. 
 
 ELDER 2. 
 
 To me seems best, together breaking in, 
 
 To clinch the matter with blood-dripping steel ^. 
 
 ELDER 3 . 
 
 I, this opinion sharing, give my vote 
 For action — 'tis no time to dally now. 
 
 ^ The members of the Chorus, it appears, wore swords. Cf. the 
 controversy with Aegisthus, below. 
 
78 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 ELDER 4. 
 
 ^Tis manifest — this is but the beginning • 
 They work to set a tyranny upon us. 
 
 ELDER 5-. 
 
 For we are losing time, and they, the while. 
 Scorning appearance, push their purpose on. 
 
 ELDER 6, 
 
 1 know not what to follow or advise ; 
 Whoever acts, it rests with him to counsel. 
 
 ELDER 7. 
 
 I hold the same opinion, for I see not 
 How words can bring the dead to life again. 
 
 ELDER 8. 
 
 What ! To these home -polluters must we yield. 
 And have them for our rulers all our days ? 
 
 ELDER p. 
 
 Nay, 'twere past bearing ; better far to die ^ 
 Death were a milder fate than slavery. 
 
 I 
 
 , 
 
 
 i 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 79 
 
 ELDER 10. 
 
 But can we on the evidence of groans 
 Conclude full surely that the king is dead ? 
 
 ELDER II. 
 
 Ere we debate them we should know the facts ; 
 Surmise and knowledge are two different things. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 This, then, I see commands the general vote, 
 Plainly to know how fareth Atreus' son ^. 
 
 Clytaemnestra is discovered standing over the dead 
 Bodies of Agamemnon and Cassandra ^. 
 
 4. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 If what before to suit the hour was said 
 I now unsay, I take no shame in this. 
 
 * See note on this passage at p. 71. It appears to the writer that 
 the scene in the original is designed with a view to the gradual 
 lowering of the pitch of the emotion, preparatory to the reappearance 
 of clytaemnestra. 
 
 ^ This was efFected by a mechanical contrivance known as the 
 * ekkyklema,' a wooden platform on which the bodies of Agamemnon 
 j and Cassandra would be ' rolled out,' with Clytaemnestra standing 
 over them. Cf. Haigh's Attic Theatre. 
 
8o THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 For when for enemies, though seeming friends. 
 One lays a snare, who would not set his fence 
 Too high for the o'er-leaping ? And for me. 
 Nursed in my heart, the struggle of this hour. 
 Which brings my triumph now, if late, has come. 
 I stand where I have struck, and where the deed 
 Is finished, and so well my work was done 
 Flight or resistance were alike in vain. 
 About him, like a net where fish are taken. 
 The deadly circle of this robe I cast. 
 And twice I smote him, and with moan twice made 
 He sank, and where he lay I smote again, 
 A blow that Death might welcome with his soul. 
 Thus sends he forth his life, and, as he fell. 
 The death-tide sobbing from him smote me o'er 
 The dark dew of his blood ; and, as the field. 
 For harvest sown, beneath the rain of heaven 
 At its birth hour rejoices, I was glad. 
 
 That things are thus, ye elder men of Argos, 
 
 Be joyful as ye may be ; as for me 
 
 I glory in them ; and if seemly were it 
 
 To pour the slain an offering, I would do it. 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 8i 
 
 As just and more than just — so full a cup 
 
 Of curses dark from homes this man has filled, 
 
 Which, coming back, he has himself drunk up. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 We marvel at thy tongue, with what bold words 
 Thou darest thus to vaunt thee o'er thy husband. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 As woman without sense ye'd try me now. 
 But I, with heart unmoved, to you who know — 
 And ye may praise or blame me as ye will — 
 Say, before all, this man is Agamemnon, 
 My husband, dead, the work of my right hand — 
 A righteous deed, well done. So stands the case. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What poison, woman, gathered from what bane 
 Of earth, or the great water, to thine ill 
 Hast tasted, that upon thine head hast heaped 
 The curses of the people and their hate ? 
 Thou hast cut off, and from the city so 
 An outcast loathed thou thyself shalt be. 
 
8i 
 
 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 So now to exile me ye would condemn, 
 Accursed of the people and their hate ? 
 Against this man though ye had naught to say. 
 Who his own child, like a brute beast for slaughter, 
 Though full his herds were teeming, thought no 
 
 shame, 4 
 
 The dearest pang I bore, to sacrifice ^ 
 
 To charm the winds of Thrace. Was no crime 
 
 here ? 
 No cause to drive him forth ? Yet of my deeds 
 Ye are stern judges. But I tell you this, »| 
 
 And ye may mark my words who threaten now. 
 If in fair field ye win, ye then may rule me, 
 I will submit ; but if to me the scale. 
 In the decree and will of heaven, incline. 
 Ye shall, though late, the way of prudence learn. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Thou art full proud and these are swelling words. 
 As yet the murder-frenzy and the blow 
 Work in thy mind, and on thy brow the blood. 
 Which stains it, fits thy temper, but the day 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 85 
 
 Shall come, when friendless and forsaken thou, 
 Blow for that blow, the deed wilt expiate. 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Hear ye then now my warrant — by the power 
 Of Justice, wrought me for my murdered child, 
 By Ate and the Avengers, to whose wrath 
 This man I slew, Hope sets no foot for me 
 Within the house of Fear, while at my hearth 
 Aegisthus, to my cause devoted still. 
 Kindles the flame, a shield of confidence. 
 There lies he, the defiler of this woman, 
 Darling of each Chryseis under Troy, 
 And she, his captive slave, his auguress. 
 Who shared his bed, aye, to the sailor's bench, 
 So faithful was she — they have had their due : 
 He, as thou seest • and she, whose swan -like song 
 Ye lately heard her chaunting for her death, 
 Lies to him lovingly, and adds for me 
 A relish, something keen, to my revenge. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 j Ah, without pain. 
 Swift, with no pillowed anguish, might a sleep 
 
 G 
 
84 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Close me mine eyes in death to wake no more ; 
 Now that he lies, our gracious guardian, slain ; 
 And, through a woman having much endured, 
 Now by a woman in his life cut off. 
 Woe to thee, Helen, and the lives through thee. 
 Many, ah, many, to the grave sent down ! 
 Strife of their strife, who in the home wast set 
 A woe for husbands ! . 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Labour no sorrow for the death of these. 
 
 Nor against Helen turn thine anger now, 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Spirit of ill, who on this house dost fall, 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Ah, with the truth thy speech runs even now. 
 
 The race-curse calling, 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Heavy upon this house, a power of dread, 
 The curse thou vauntest, 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 85 
 
 • 
 
 iKing, O king, how shall I weep for thee ? 
 
 ,Out of my heart of love what word tell over thee? 
 
 « • • • • 
 
 I 
 
 ! 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 I 
 
 jThink'st thou this work was mine ? Nay, 'twas the 
 j Curse, 
 
 j Though in my shape, not I, that did the deed, 
 The ancient race-avenger. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Turn where I will, all ^s dark. The stricken house 
 
 Rocks to its fall. I fear the storm of blood. 
 
 In slow drops ceasing now ; but beating up. 
 
 To whelm it in its blast, comes on amain 
 
 Another, in the dreadful pause the while 
 
 Fate whets her blade. O Earth, Earth, 
 
 That thou hadst closed above me ere these eyes 
 
 Looked on this sight of pity, my dear lord 
 
 Ensnared, and in the laver silver- wrought 
 
 G 2 
 
U THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 Low laid in death ! 
 Who now will bury him ? 
 Who make lament for him ? 
 
 clytaemnestra. 
 By us he fell and we will bury him, 
 
 But with no sound of wailing from these halls, 
 • • • • • 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Hard is the issue, for who slayed is slain, 
 Spoiled is the spoiler, and the law stands sure 
 That he who does must suffer. From these halls 
 Who shall drive forth the curse to which the race 
 Is wedded for its doom ? 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 To words of truth 
 Thou comest now, and with that *^ daemon ' I 
 Will plight in covenant to bear my fate. 
 Hard though it be, if he will hence depart. 
 To vex some other race with feuds of blood. 
 When that is gone enough there still remains. 
 
 [£a:/V Clytaemnestra.'^ 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 87 
 
 'Enter Aegisthus, 
 
 AEGISTHUS. 
 
 O pleasant light of justice-bringing day ! 
 Now would 1 say the gods above looked down 
 On human wrongs, and had them in their care • 
 Seeing this man entangled in these robes. 
 The Furies' weaving, for his sire's misdeeds 
 Just retribution, sight most sweet to me ! 
 
 [He relates the story of the feast of Thyestes — see note 
 on the Argument — addmg that^ 'with his father^ 
 Thyestes J he luas driven into exile by Atreus 'while 
 yet an infant^ 
 
 But Justice brought me back, and now this man 
 Has felt my hand, as, from without, I shaped 
 The whole hard plot. There in the toils he lies. 
 And, come what may, I care not so that be. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Insult, Aegisthus, in distress I praise not. 
 That thou didst slay this man thy words confess. 
 Contriving all liis murder. But be sure 
 Death by the people's stoning shall be thine. 
 
88 
 
 THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 AEGISTHUS. 
 
 Speakest thou so, thou at the lower oar. 
 
 To those who rule the ship ? But thou shalt know, ] 
 
 Old as thou art, how grievous 'tis to learn ' 
 
 . I 
 
 The lesson late of prudence. There's a medicine. 
 
 Bonds and the pains of hunger, passing keen j 
 
 To school the oldest. Look upon this, and so | 
 
 Kick not against the pricks to thine own pain. ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Thou woman, thou ! who, staying here at home, 
 Defiledst a brave man's bed, . 
 
 AEGISTHUS. 
 
 For these thy words 
 
 Right dearly shalt thou pay. 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Why, O vile soul. 
 Didst thou not dare thyself to do the deed. 
 But with the woman, for thy base design. 
 Has brought this dark pollution on the land ? 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 89 
 
 Ah, in the light of heaven if living still. 
 Will not Orestes come again and bring 
 Death for you both, in one destruction slain ! 
 
 AEGISTHUS. 
 
 Since ye will have it so, it shall be done • 
 Come on, my henchmen ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 On we too, and draw 
 
 Each one his sword- 
 
 Enter Clytaemnestra, 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Dearest of men, forbear ; enough has been 
 The harvest of these woes • it needs not now 
 To shed more blood. Go thou within, and these 
 Let them from, hence betake them, ere there come 
 More trouble. In the destined course these things 
 Have been accomplished ^ and if now their end 
 Might be, right welcome were it, smitten sore 
 As we have been beneath the heel of fate. 
 
5?o THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 
 
 AEGISTHUS. 
 
 That these should let their rank tongue blossom so, 
 Insulting me, their ruler, and their fate 
 Tempting in folly ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 On base men to fawn 
 Is not the wont of Argives ! 
 
 AEGISTHUS. 
 
 Ye shall pay 
 A reckoning dear for this. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Not so, if heaven 
 Shall bring again Orestes. 
 
 AEGISTHUS. 
 
 Well I know 
 How men in exile still on hopes are fed. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Since thou canst do it now, work on, grow fat. 
 And trample justice down ! 
 
THE HOUSE OF ATREUS 5^1 
 
 AEGISTHUS. 
 
 Know, for this folly 
 Ye yet shall pay the debt ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Boast now and strut, 
 Like cock beside his partlet ! 
 
 CLYTAEMNESTRA. 
 
 Heed thou not 
 These idle barkings. Thou and I together, 
 RuHng these halls, will all things order well. 
 
 THE END. 
 
NOTE TO '^THE HOUSE OF ATREUS/ 
 
 The story of the play is continued and com- 
 pleted in the two dramas, the Libation-bearers^ in 
 which Orestes slays Aegisthus and Clytaemnestra, 
 and is driven forth by the avenging Furies of his 
 mother^ and the Eumenides (a euphemistic name foil 
 the Furies), in which the curse of blood is allay ec 
 by the influence and ordinance of Pallas Athene 
 (goddess of Wisdom), and the ancient goddesses 
 consent to forgo their wrath, are reconciled to the 
 newer gods in the person of Apollo, and have 
 their worship established at Athens. 
 
 ;1i 
 
 .1.?" 
 
 % 
 
ALCESTIS 
 
 *** 
 
 A PLAY, AFTER EURIPIDES 
 
 33' 
 
 € 
 
' . . . Sacred relics, gentle whispers, and the breath 
 of better times, that from the traditions of more 
 ancient nations came, at length, into the flutes and 
 trumpets of the Greeks.' 
 
 Bacon : The Wisdom of the Ancient j. 
 
TO dMT SMOTHER 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
NOTE 
 
 The author of this play is under an obligation, 
 which he desires to acknowledge, to M. Georges 
 Rivollet, whose play Alkestls he had the great 
 pleasure of witnessing in Paris in i^oo, at the 
 Comedie Frangaise. The author has borrowed some 
 stage devices, and some thoughts and expres- 
 sions, from that play, but he desires to say that, 
 subject to this, the two plays are distinct, both in 
 sentiment and construction. In its main features 
 the present play follows the drama of Euripides 
 throughout. 
 
ARGUMENT 
 
 Apollo, having been condemned by Zeus to 
 serve a mortal, becomes a herdsman in the house of 
 Admetus, King of Thessaly, and, when Admetus is 
 about to die, secures from the Fates that he may Jive 
 for a term equal to his former life, provided he finds 
 a substitute to die for him. His parents and friends 
 being unwilling to render him this service, Alcestis, 
 his wife, devotes herself to death in his stead. But 
 Heracles, who is journeying in the performance of 
 a labour, having arrived, and learning from a 
 servant what has befallen Alcestis, goes to her tomb, 
 rescues her from Death, and brings her back to 
 Admetus. 
 
 Admetus is the son of Pheres, reputed to have 
 been the founder of the city of Pherae. 
 
 Alcestis is the daughter of Pelias, King of lolcus, 
 whose nephew was Jason, the leader of the Argo- 
 nauts. 
 
 H 
 
 J 
 
PEJ{SONS l^EPl^SENTED 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 PHERES. 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 ALCESTIS. 
 FEMALE SERVANT. 
 
 CHORUS OF OLD MEN OF PHERAE. 
 
 CHILDREN (Boy and Girl) of Admetus and 
 Alcestis. 
 
 SERVANTS, MOURNERS, CITIZENS, 
 &c. 
 
 Scene : 
 
 Before the Valace of Admetus^ in Fherae of 
 
 Thessaly. 
 
ALCESTIS 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Before the Talace Betiveen Night and Dawn. 
 
 Apollo, alone. 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 /^ PALACE of Admetus, home of men, 
 
 ^^ Where I, a god, have served among the slaves — 
 
 Such was Jove's sentence — for he slew my son, 
 
 And I, the forgers of his murderous bolts 
 
 In rage destroying, was condemned to serve 
 
 A mortal to my shame — such is the power 
 
 Of him to whom both men and gods must bow. 
 
 So, hither coming, in this house I served, 
 
 Tending the flocks, and he, my mortal lord, 
 
 H 2 
 
lOl 
 
 A L C E S T I S 
 
 In the poor herdsman reverenced the god. 
 Holy the house and pure in heart its lord. 
 And, for that ^tis my godlike quality 
 Such to befriend, I have preserved this house 
 Unto this day, and from the Fates did win 
 The life of its loved lord, old Pheres' son. 
 But those dread goddesses, to grant the boon. 
 Made hard condition, that another life 
 Should fall in forfeit, and the insatiate grave 
 Still have its toll. So, questioning his friends, 
 His aged sire, his mother deep in years. 
 He found none willing in his place to die. 
 Save one, his fair, young wife, who now within, 
 Borne in their hands, is breathing out her life, 
 'Tis now the destined day and she must die. 
 Ah, me ! and I must quit these dear abodes • 
 Where the dead are for gods is ground impure. 
 Alas, poor house ! 
 
 Enter Death. 
 
 But here, true to his hour. 
 Comes the accursed shape. He keeps his tryst. 
 Like a young gallant hungering for his bride. 
 
 
PROLOGUE 103 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Apollo, Death. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 Ah, ah, Apollo, wherefore dost thou wait 
 Before these doors ? 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 I wait, it seems, for Death. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 Ever athwart my path ! What means that bow ? 
 Think'st thou again to rob me of my prize ? 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 The bow I bear, as is my right and due, 
 That gods and men may know and honour me, 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 I too have rights, though fraud and violence 
 May bate their measure. Was it not enough 
 To save Admetus, and must thou essay 
 To rob me of this woman ? 
 
104- 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 What do we owe thee ? 
 When was there robbery in fair exchange ? 
 Hadst thou Admetus then his wife should live. 
 But now she waits thee. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 So ! Then stand aside. 
 Alcestis ! 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 Ah ! Have pity on her youth. 
 So young and fair ! 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 Alcestls ! 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 Stay thine hand ! 
 'Tis but a moment, when thou hast all time 
 To reap such flowers. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 Alcestis ! 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 Let her live ! 
 
PROLOGUE 10^ 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 No! 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 For her life, at best, is but a span. 
 Poor mortal of a day 1 and stiall we gods 
 Envy that little, hedged about with pain. 
 And dim with apprehension, yet withal 
 Cheered with some comfort from these rays divine ? 
 Let her live out her day, while yet its joys 
 May be her portion, love and motherhood. 
 Honour of children, reverence of age. 
 And when her eyes are dim, and trembling knees 
 Bow 'neath the burden of her wasted frame. 
 Then reap the whitened harvest — 'tis thy due. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 No ! for her hour is come, and I am here, 
 
 By words unmoved. What is her youth to me. 
 
 Save that, in dying, she is mourned the more. 
 
 And I more honoured in her obsequies ? 
 
 If all died old, where were my meed of tears. 
 
 My groans, my broken hearts, my rending sighs ? 
 
 I have my hecatombs, as thou hast thine. 
 
lO^ 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 And do I grudge thee ? Leave me then my dues. 
 
 He goes up, 
 
 Alcestis ! to my realm I summon thee ; 
 Thine hour is come, and thou must follow me. 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 Stay ! Once again I ask — not born to sue — 
 But, for this house is dear unto my heart, 
 And that heart guileless, I implore this boon — 
 Oh, let her live ! 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 Not I ! Thou know'st my ways : 
 Fate cuts the thread, and Death for no man stays. 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 Yet thou wilt stay — for now begins to stir 
 My soul of divination, and I see 
 Some one advancing. To this house he comes — 
 A man of mighty mould, and on his brow 
 Courage sits throned. His task to bring away 
 The chariot steeds whose food is flesh of men. 
 Stalled by King Diomede in the hills of Thrace. 
 Him doth Admetus welcome, and the prize. 
 Thou hadst, is lost — he hales her from thine arms \ 
 
 
PROLOGUE loj 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 Keep thy divinings for these human fools ; 
 
 They move me not. This hour is mine, and thou 
 
 Shalt not withstand me. 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 Pass then, and my hate 
 Go with thee, hateful to both gods and men ! 
 
 [Exit Apollo. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Death, A Servant. 
 
 DEATH (^knocking at the Falace door). 
 Open the door ! 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 What art thou ? 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 I am Death. 
 [Fresses m. The Servant utters a loiu cry. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
I 
 
ACT I 
 
 Before the Palace, ^JMorning. 
 
 Scene I. 
 Chorus — divided Into Seml-Choruses, 
 
 CHORUS I. 
 
 What means this silence at the Palace gates ? 
 
 CHORUS 2. 
 
 Hark! 
 
 CHORUS I, 
 
 Not a sound. 'Tis like a house deserted. 
 The door left open and the entrances, 
 With service unapparelled, seem to speak 
 The woe we feared. 
 
 CHORUS 2. 
 
 Oh ! is there none to tell us 
 If we must weep for our departed queen. 
 Or lives she still ? 
 
lie 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 CHORUS I. 
 
 I know not what to think. 
 There would be sounds of wailing were she dead. 
 This silence lends me hope, and look, good friends, 
 No lustral font stands yet before the gates, 
 As is the rite of the dead. 
 
 CHORUS z. 
 
 Ah ! might she live ! 
 For losing her we lose a friend indeed. 
 Yet, if she lives, this day the king must die. 
 Our lord Admetus. Bitter choice and hard ! 
 Living, to mourn in widowed solitude, 
 Dying, to leave him and this light of day. 
 
 CHORUS I. 
 
 All has been tried, our altars smoke with blood, 
 A dearer sacrifice the gods require. 
 Which only love may offer — but what thoughts 
 Must rend his royal breast ! 
 
 CHORUS 2. 
 
 Yet life is sweet — 
 I neither praise nor blame him, for these things 
 
 ■ i 
 
ALCESTIS III 
 
 Come from some god. But glorious indeed 
 Will be her fame ! 
 
 CHORUS I. 
 
 Would that some helper 
 Might yet arise, O Paean i, for these illsl 
 Ah ! some one comes ! 
 
 CHORUS 2. 
 
 Tell uSj does the queen live ? 
 
 Scene II. 
 The same^ A 'Female Servant, 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 She lives — 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Ah! 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Yet lives not — 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Alas ! 
 
 ^ Apollo the Healer. 
 
Ill 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 For the end is near. 
 And even now she breathes her life away. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O house made desolate ! O hapless king ! 
 What loss is ours and thine ! 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 My royal master 
 
 Will learn this lesson yet. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Is there no hope ? 
 Will nothing save her ? 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Nothing, as I ween ; 
 For 'tis reported through the palace courts, 
 That on the edge of the dawn, while yet the house 
 Was sleeping, came a knocking at the gates. 
 And he who opened, lying by the door 
 That night in service, mouths a trembling tale 
 Of one who, as he opened, bore him down. 
 And passed into the house, and, as he passed. 
 He told his name — 'twas the dread god of death., 
 
ALCESTIS 113 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O great Apollo, save us ! She must die. 
 The best of women and the truest wife 
 That ever lived in Hellas ! 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 What she is. 
 You know not yet, and hearing you will marvel. 
 For when she knew the destined day had come. 
 And that this fate might not be turned aside. 
 With purest water from the river taken 
 She made ablution ; then, in vesture clad 
 As for a festival, she stood and prayed 
 In lowly adoration at the shrine 
 Of Hestia, hearth-goddess — thus she prayed : 
 ' O holy mistress of the hearth and home, 
 As I have honoured thee, now lend thine ear 
 To my last prayer, not for myself, but those 
 I leave to-day — protect my orphan children ; 
 Oh, grant them happiness and length of days, 
 A loving wife to one, to the other a husband 
 Noble and worthy, nor, as their mother dies, 
 To die untimely! ' 
 
1 14 ALCESTIS 
 
 Then from hall to hall 
 
 She passed, and at each altar made her prayer, 
 
 With offerings due of flowers and myrtle crowns. 
 
 Tearless she went without one groan or cry ; 
 
 Nor could we mark her natural beauty dimmed 
 
 For all that evil. 
 
 Then, seeing us weeping — 
 
 For tears flowed fast — she gave her hand to each. 
 
 In kindly comfort ; nor was there one so mean, 
 
 Through all the house, whom she addressed not, and 
 
 Was answered in return. Thus took she leave 
 
 And passed to her own chamber. ^\ 
 
 Then, at last. 
 
 Her speech came choked with tears : ^ O nuptial bed, 
 
 Where he I loved received me as his bride, if | 
 
 Farewell ! for him I die, as I have lived, 
 
 /.I 
 Loving and faithful. If, in days to come. 
 
 Another claim this place, more fortunate 
 
 Perchance she may be, not more chaste than I.' 
 
 She said, and weeping on the bed she pressed 
 
 Kisses with tears, leaving, yet loth to leave. 
 
 And oft returning, while about her clung 
 
 Her children — and then came those last farewells ; 
 
ALCESTIS 115' 
 
 She could no more, and in her husband's arms 
 Fainting she lay awhile. Then to the light 
 She bade him lead her — in his arms she comes. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Spoken by several of the Chorus. 
 O heavy fate ! how will he bear to lose her ? 
 Silence ! She comes. 
 
 How pale she is ! 
 
 She speaks. 
 
 Scene III. 
 The same^ Admetus, Alcestis. 
 
 ALCESTIS. 
 
 O light of day ! and O ye radiant clouds, 
 I Which float upon the airy tides of heaven, 
 j Behold me ! 
 
 ' ADMETUS. 
 
 I Ah ! look down upon our pain ! 
 
 ■ How have we sinned ? What outraged deity 
 
 Demands so dear a debt, that I must lose thee 
 
 Thus in thy prime ? 
 
ii6 ALCESTIS 
 
 I 
 
 ALCESTIS. 
 
 O Earth ! O home beloved ! 
 Farewell ! I dream. . . . Methinks once more 1 see 
 The chambers of the palace where I dwelt. 
 Whilst yet a maid, within my native land-r 
 lolcus .... 
 
 Ah ! that boat ! That fearful man ! , \d\ 
 He leans upon his oar — he summons me — 
 ' Come, come, 'tis time ; thou seest I stay for thee ^ 
 Why this delay ? Charon the old am I, 
 Death's ferryman ' . . , with lashing, bitter words 
 He hales me o'er. [^SoWng, 
 
 I 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Ah, me ! What voyage were this? 
 Thou shalt not leave me — see, thou hast me still. 
 
 ALCESTIS. ^ 
 
 Hold me ! Thou hast me not. He draws me down, 
 
 The dreadful messenger with sable wings ; 
 
 He who stood there before me — passing the door — - 
 
 [Pomtmg to the Falace, \ 
 Seest thou him not ? He stands and points the way, 
 
ALCESTIS 117 
 
 A fearful path through shadows yawning down. 
 Save me ! Ah, what wilt thou with me ? Unhand me ! 
 Ah ! ^Falls hack fainting. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Woe, woe is me ! 
 
 ALCESTIS. 
 
 Let me lie down. 
 
 They take her to a marble bench. 
 
 The fearful dream is past. 
 And the dark presence, terrible no more. 
 Wafts night into my eyes and kindlier peace. 
 ■\ \ Bring me my children. 
 
 i 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 i Mother! 
 
 ALCESTIS. 
 
 Ah, my chicks. 
 My pretty babes, yours is a loss indeed ! 
 And, seeing you, the gushing wells of grief 
 Break forth anew. Who now will mother you ? 
 Who will befriend you ? With what smile at morn ? 
 At close of day what comfortable word 
 Will lull your slumbers ? Here is my grief indeed, 
 
 I 1 
 
ii8 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 For these my desolation, for I leave 
 
 These desolate — my loved ones. [Sinks down, 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Oh, this cannot be !j 
 Ye gods, this may not be — would I had died — 
 Would I had died — death were as naught to this ! 
 Alcestis, my own wife, my darling queen. 
 Look up — thou canst not leave us ! [Emifracmg her.\ 
 
 ALCESTIS. 
 
 Ah, from thy lips. 
 
 Dear heart, I seem to live. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Thou shalt, take courage — | 
 Look on thy children. 
 
 ALCESTIS. 
 
 No ! It may not be • 
 I feel my end approaching, and the time 
 Grows short. Hear now my dying words. 
 
 husband, 
 I loved thee, as thou knowest, and have lived 
 Loving thee in all honour, thy true wife. 
 
 My 
 
' 
 
 ALCESTIS 115) 
 
 And of my love this hour which takes me from thee 
 Gives proof, if proof were needed. Willingly 
 I die, not bearing without thee to live. 
 Not in exchange — for my free choice and offering 
 Would brook no barter — but in pledge of the love 
 Thou bearest me, and for these orphan babes, 
 I ask one boon — Oh, let no other woman 
 Usurp my wedlock, and a mother^s love 
 Give place to a step-mother^s envious hate. 
 Ever for such the fruit of earlier loves 
 -? Was bitter • and to know that this hard fate 
 Will not assail these pledges of our joy, 
 Were comfort at the end. Promise me this. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 I promise, and that promise on their heads 
 Seal with a vow, never to wed again. 
 Never within these walls another woman 
 Shall share my bed and crown. Beyond the grave 
 Thou art my wife. Oh, now I see my life 
 Nothing without thee, yet for these I live. 
 These to protect and, under Heaven's high will, 
 To render worthy of their state and thee. 
 
 I 
 
I20 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 And, when my task is done. Oh then, come death, 
 And bear me to these faithful arms again ! 
 
 ALCESTIS. 
 
 Thy words bring comfort, and I die in peace. 
 
 Live in your father's love. [Emhacing her children. 
 
 Take them, my husband. 
 I am no more. The shadows close about me — 
 Thy hand, beloved, ... ah ! [Dw. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The queen is dead. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Oh, shame upon my head ! Oh, woe is me ! 
 What have I done ? Why did ye suffer this ? 
 False friends to me, seeking your craven ends. 
 To let her die, doubtless that I might live 
 To keep you scathless ! Miserable race ! 
 Drawing your pleasures from the woes of kings. 
 What care you so you prosper ? Fire and sword 
 Would be your portion, did not those, who sit 
 Where your dull envy clamours, make your lives 
 
ALCESTIS III 
 
 Their thankless care. 
 
 They fall back before htm. 
 
 But most I hate that age, 
 
 fuming to the Valace, 
 Which, hardly living, in the grave's cold shadow. 
 Cumbering the earth, with all its pleasures sated, 
 Grudged a few limping years for this young life. 
 Ah, woe is me ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Grief does him violence ! O king, in this 
 Thou wrongst thy noble nature and high Heaven, 
 What man seeks death ? And yet to all it comes. 
 Or soon or late. What thou now sufFerest 
 Is no new thing. Oh, be advised, and take 
 Some comfort in submission to the gods. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Take our hand. We know it, and have known it 
 
 long. 
 And on our path the shadow of this fate 
 Has lain these many days. Before the gods 
 We bow our head, o'er-mastered. Fare thee well. 
 Beloved, who, in dying, hast redeemed 
 
Ill 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 A life, which, treasured for its happiness, 
 
 I now see yoked with cheerless widowhood, 
 
 To ends I thought not of. And now, my friends. 
 
 Raise to the deity, who reigns below. 
 
 Your antiphone of song, while we prepare 
 
 The dead for burial ; whom, at set of sun. 
 
 We will bear forth with solemn requiem. 
 
 Till then attend us. Throughout all the city 
 
 We do ordain, in honour of this queen, 
 
 A general mourning. Hushed be every pipe. 
 
 Silent the lyre, till twelve full moons be past. 
 
 For never, through the ages, shall be found 
 
 One worthy of more honour, or for whom 
 
 A heavier sorrow follows to the tomb. 
 
 Lead on. Ourselves shall bear this burden in. 
 
 [H^ carries in the body, 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Daughter of Pelias, O queen revered. 
 In death most glorious, how art thou taken 
 Untimely from thy people ! Fare thee well ! 
 We mourn for thee and hold thy memory dear. 
 
 fi 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE I. 
 Before the Palace. Evening. 
 
 The people begin to assemble for the funeral rites, 
 
 1ST CITIZEN. 
 
 This should be a brave funeral, good brother. 
 
 2ND CITIZEN. 
 
 Aye, by the gods, there will be no lack of baked 
 meats, as I hear, and wine to slake our grief withal. 
 
 1ST CITIZEN. 
 
 ^Tis most fit. ' She was a most virtuous queen, and 
 ever regarded the people. 
 
 3RD CITIZEN. 
 
 I do indeed fear the king without her. But what 
 the gods send we must bear. 
 
114- ALCESTIS 
 
 IND CITIZEN. 
 
 I would she were with us. I speak not of death, 
 but Charon and his boat were naught to me. They I 
 say he belabours poor souls with his oar, which is, as I 
 'twere, a rude measure for great folks. 
 
 1ST CITIZEN. 
 
 Aye, for they be not used to blows. Well, well ! 
 God ha' mercy on us all ! 
 
 3RD CITIZEN. 
 
 Stand to. Here come the elders of the city with | 
 the funeral gifts. 
 
 'Enter the Chorus intth funeral gifts, 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Lay here your offerings, and while we wait 
 
 The bearing of this royal burial forth, 
 
 Invoke with me, in solemn strains and slow. 
 
 The inexorable god, who, little moved 
 
 By prayers, may find — Oh, might it be ! — in tears 
 
 A sacrifice propitious for the dead. 
 
'J 
 
 ALCESTIS 125" 
 
 Let minstrelsy begin, and do ye raise 
 In answering antiphone the choral song. 
 
 Tor declamation to music, 
 PART P. 
 
 1ST SEMI-CHORUS. 
 
 Tears have no measure, sorrow needs no shame. 
 To mourn so loved a life. Begin then. Muse, 
 The heavy strain, and teach me how to mourn. 
 
 2ND SEMI- CHORUS. 
 
 For thou, Melpomene, didst erst receive 
 
 The ringing lyre from the great Father's hands. 
 
 The lyre and liquid tones of solemn song. 
 
 1ST SEMI-CHORUS. 
 
 Sunk is that head in the long sleep of death. 
 That dear, dear head — ah, lady, friend beloved. 
 Shall faith and honour ever find thy peer ? 
 
 2ND SEMI-CHORUS. 
 
 Ah ! might ye tune your lyre to sweeter lays 
 Than ever Orpheus woke by wood or stream, 
 
 ^ Part I is adapted from Horace, C. i. 24. 
 
iz6 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 To that faint ghost the blood comes not again. 
 Which once dread Hermes with his awful wand 
 Has gathered in. 
 
 1ST SEMI-CHORUS. 
 
 'Tis hard ; but comfort still 
 Seek we in bearing what high Heaven decrees. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 2ND SEMI-CHORUS. 
 
 Daughter of Pelias, from the seed divine 
 Of heroes sprung, now art thou setting forth 
 On thy last journey. Lady, fare thee well ! 
 
 r 
 
 1ST SEMI-CHORUS. 
 
 Already on the brink of that dark shore. 
 Which winds about the sullen Stygian tide. 
 She waits, and from her sorrowing lord implores 
 The last sad rites, which grant her passage o'er. 
 
 IND SEMI-CHORUS. 
 
 Soon will she have them, soon the earth will fall 
 
 On that dear head, which, lowly laid within. 
 
 Sleeps the long sleep from which she wakes no more. 
 
 4 
 
^^A 
 
 ^ ALCESTIS 127 
 
 1ST SEMI-CHORUS. 
 
 O thou dread deity who reign'st below. 
 Spare her thy terrors, we implore, and bring 
 Her soul at last to realms of peace and joy ! 
 
 SCENE U. 
 
 The same^ A Messenger. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Sirs, by your leave, I have made speed to tell you, 
 
 Lest sudden interruption mar these rites. 
 
 When they are toward, that the hero famed. 
 
 Mightiest Heracles, on the instant comes 
 
 Unto our city. Journeying alone. 
 
 He hails the watch upon the western gate. 
 
 Asking if all is well, and how it fares 
 
 With our good lord Admetus — whom he comes 
 
 E'en now to greet. Upon his way the people 
 
 Grow clamorous in welcome at the sight 
 
 Of one whose fame resounds throughout all Hellas. 
 
 Nor doth report belie him, for his form 
 
128 ALCESTIS 
 
 In strength shows more than mortal, and he wears 
 The cloak of the lion's skin. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 This were a guest 
 Indeed to welcome, but at such a time . . . 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Aye, 'twas my thought, and therefore came I hither 
 In haste to tell you. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Let these funeral gifts 
 Be put from sight, till the king's will be known. 
 For the which end one of our councillors 
 Will straight seek audience, while we await 
 Alcmena's godlike son. 
 
 Shouts are heard beyond, "Enter Heracles. 
 
 Heracles. 
 Mine hosts, dwellers on this Pheraean soil. 
 Say, shall I find Admetus in the palace ? 
 
 chorus. 
 The son of Pheres is within, my lord. 
 But tell me, Heracles, upon what need 
 
ALCESTIS 125? 
 
 Thou visitest this far Thessalian land, 
 Arriving at our city. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 I am bound 
 Upon a labour, which is laid upon me 
 By him I serve, under the hand of Zeus, 
 The king Eurystheus. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Where, and what this journey ? 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Into the hills of Thrace, where Diomede 
 Holds impious rule ; my task to bring away 
 His chariot steeds. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 A fearful enterprise ! 
 Many have gone, who never have returned 
 From that wild fastness, and these chariot steeds 
 Are fed on flesh of men. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Who yet were eaten 
 Perchance by mountain beasts. 
 
i^o ALCESTIS 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Nay, but 'tis so, 
 As thou wilt see. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Ah, well, it is my task. 
 And I must meet it, though this fate of mine 
 Grows ever steeper. Pah ! I'll not think upon it- 
 Here is a friendly hearth and I would in. 
 To greet your lord, my guest in days gone by 
 In mine own Argos. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Lo, from the palace doors 
 The king comes forth. 
 
 Scene III. 
 The same^ Admetus {in black), 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Hail to thee, son of Zeus, 
 From Perseus sprung. 
 
ALCESTIS 131 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Joy to thee too, Admetus, 
 Of Thessaly the king. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Would that there were ; 
 But thy kind heart I know. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 What word is this ? 
 For whom these weeds of mourning that thou wearest ? 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 One of my household whom to-day we bear 
 To burial 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Not of thine own ? A child ? 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Nay, they are well. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Thy parents ? They are old. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 They too still live. 
 
 I 
 
132, 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Nay, tell me all ; my heart is full of fear. 
 Surely 'tis not thy wife, thy loved Alcestis ? 
 
 ADMETUS. ^ 
 
 'Tis well with her. [Movement.') 
 
 I say with her 'tis well. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 But thou art weeping. These are not the tears 
 For any stranger. Tell me, who is dead ? 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 A woman. 'Twas of a woman that I spoke just now. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Of thine own kin, or stranger in the house ? 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Under another sky she saw the light. 
 
 But, left an orphan, here she lived some while. 
 
 Though not of mine own kin. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 But still, thou lovedst her. 
 Would that I had not found thee sorrowing ! 
 
 VTurns to go. 
 
ALCESTIS ig^ 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Thou art not going ? 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Aye, to some other shelter. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Never ! Oh, heaven for fend, that to a guest 
 
 This house should close its doors. What ! thou, my 
 
 friend. 
 Weary with travel, to another hearth 
 To turn away ! Nay, thou shalt rest thee here. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Thou hast my thanks, but to a friend in grief 
 A guest is burdensome. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 The dead are dead. 
 And we who live must live. Thou shalt not go. 
 Wide is the palace and the court so laid 
 That our guest chambers give not on these 
 
 quarters. 
 Welcome, and enter. That which we must do 
 Will touch thee not. Ye there, go bid our stewards 
 
 K Z 
 
i^+ ALCESTIS 
 
 Make ready and provide this noble guest 
 With largest entertainment. Lead him in. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 I needs must yield ! 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Sleep and good cheer go with thee. • 
 
 Heracles is escorted in. 
 
 Now close the inner doors, that to our guest, 
 Harboured within, the voice of wailing come not, 
 To cause him sadness as he sits at meat. 
 See to it straightly. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 What hast thou done, my lord ? 
 Hast thou the heart, at such a time as this, 
 To welcome strangers ? Nay, this is but madness. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Had I repelled him from this hearth and city. 
 
 Would ye have praised me more ? A guest, a friend. 
 
 Himself the soul of hospitality. 
 
 Turned from the door ! How had my grief been less ? 
 
 Am I with churlishness to whet the edge 
 
 Of my affliction ? 
 
ALCESTIS 13^ 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 If, as thy lips avow, 
 I He is a friend, why didst thou then conceal 
 I The truth of thy misfortune ? 
 
 ; ADMETUS. 
 
 Had he known. 
 He never would have entered. Oh, I see 
 My days are darkened and the hand of fate 
 Heavy upon me ; but to spurn a guest 
 These halls have learned not yet. The sun is down. 
 Go in, and to her last long resting-place 
 Bear forth the dead ; and you, kind friends, attend 
 
 her. 
 With all due preparation to the grave. 
 
 [Admetus enters the Falace, 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O hospitable house ! O kindly halls ! 
 To all thrown open, here it was that thou, 
 
1^6 ALCESTIS 
 
 Glorious Apollo, deignedst to find a home • 
 Content awhile to lead a shepherd's life. 
 Piping the flocks adown these sloping hills. 
 And here came Orpheus, to whose lyre the trees 
 Did bow themselves to hear him as he went. 
 Seeking with tears his lost Eurydice. 
 O tender memories ! O house of fame ! 
 How art thou stricken-r-mourn thy loss to-day ! 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 T^e same^ Admetus. 
 
 The funeral procession appears^ coming out of the 
 Falace, A luailing note is sounded on horns, 
 
 COMPANY OF CHORUS. With raised hands. 
 Mourn. . . . Mourn, house of Pheres. . . . 
 . . . Mourn ! 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Set down the bier, and hither bring, good friends. 
 Your last sad offerings. Then unto the grave 
 Bear the dead hence. 
 
ALCESTIS 137 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Dear lady, take these gifts. 
 With salutations due, and fare thee well ! 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Ah, woe is me ! What flowers are these ye bring, 
 Herself the fairest? Thanks, my thanks, kind 
 
 friends ^ 
 'Tis well. Now o'er the dead, in order standing, 
 Rehearse a parting dirge. Minstrels, begin. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 "For declamation to music ^. 
 Sing woe, sing woe the day, the day for us re- 
 turning. 
 Who greet thee, lady, only at thy grave. 
 To thy dumb ashes telling o'er, in accents burning. 
 Those rites, 'tis said, departed spirits crave ; 
 
 All that we can — with tears — the words our fathers 
 taught us — 
 Then, if the dead may hear us from the shore 
 
 ^ Adapted from Catullus, ' Multas per gentes ' — 
 
 'Homewards, a traveller, from many lands returning, 
 I greet thee, brother, only at thy grave,' &c. 
 
 I 
 
138 ALCESTIS 
 
 Of their departing o'er those sad and lonely waters. 
 Hearken — and fare thee well for evermore ! 
 
 \A roll of muffled drums. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Enough ! It rends my heart. Take up the bier. 
 And onward to the tomb. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Stay ! for I see 
 Thine aged father with slow step advancing. 
 And servants with him, bearing in their hands 
 Adornment for the dead. 
 
 ^Ttter Pheres, coming out of the Falace. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 The same^ Pheres. 
 
 PHERES. 
 
 My son, I heard 
 The voice of lamentation, and I come 
 With offerings due in honour of the dead. 
 
ALCESTIS 139 
 
 And rightly is she honoured, who has died 
 To save thy life and give me back my son. 
 I share thy sorrow. 'Twas a noble deed. 
 And thou hast lost in her a peerless wife. 
 None will deny it. Yet, though hard it be. 
 Bear sorrow like a man. Farewell to thee. 
 Noble and virtuous lady, who hast left 
 A bright example of what wives may be. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 ] 1 did not ask thy presence at these rites, 
 
 V Nor is it welcome. She, who now is dead, 
 
 ;/ Needs not thy offerings. What! thou mourn the 
 
 '^ dead, 
 
 *;• Whom thou let'st die ! Thou shouldst have shown 
 
 ^ thy care 
 
 For me and this young life when it was needed. 
 
 Thy son ! I think not j nor my mother she 
 
 Who such is called. 
 
 By heaven, thou art the pattern of all cowards. 
 
 Who, on the brink of death, couldst hoard thy 
 years, 
 ," And let her perish. What hast thou not had 
 
140 ALCESTIS 
 
 That life could give thee ? Pleasure of youthful days. 
 
 Princely attendance and obsequious service. 
 
 And, for thy house and heritage, a son 
 
 To keep and rule them for thy children's children ! 
 
 I have been ever dutiful and made 
 
 Thine age my care, and this is thy return ! 
 
 \FomUng to the bier. 
 Go, get thee sons to tend thy closing years. 
 Thou art no more my parent • on this bier 
 My wife, my father and my mother lie. 
 What vanity. 
 
 The old man's prayer for death and his complaints 
 Of life's long weariness ! Let death but come. 
 See how he hugs the life he hated then ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh, my son ! enough, enough the present woe ; 
 Goad not thy father's soul to fury thus. 
 
 PHERES. 
 
 Child ! dost thou dare to mouth me ? Thinkest thou 
 I am some Phrygian slave bought with thy gold ? 
 This arm may now be weak, but words of truth 
 Shall yet chastise thy braggart insolence. 
 
A L C E S T I S 141 
 
 What art thou but through me ? This house, these 
 
 lands, 
 Estate and subjects, all thou hast from me. 
 To rule them I begat thee, bred thee up. 
 Set thee in power, fenced thee about with peace — 
 'Tis not enough, it seems, but I must add 
 To these the debt of dying in thy stead. 
 Parents must die for children ! ^Tis a law 
 I learned not from my sires, nor have I heard it, 
 As yet, in Hellas. These are maggots bred 
 From peace-fed ease and hoarded affluence. 
 When thou hast lived my life then call me coward. 
 Old I may be, but not on terms like these. 
 
 [Pointing to the bier. 
 Get thee more wives, and if they'll die for thee. 
 As she did, thou may'st come to live for ever. 
 
 VLaughs to himself. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Enough ! for shame ! revile not thine own son. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Let him revile — He heard the truth from me j 
 I care not how he like it. 
 
14^ A L C E S T I S 
 
 PHERES. 
 
 Insolence ! 
 Thou darest to call me coward ! That life is sweet. 
 This crime of thine, methinks, is proof enough. 
 
 [Pomtmg to the bier. 
 
 My life is mine ! 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Outlive then Zeus himself! 
 
 PHERES. 
 
 Ha ! Dost thou curse thy parents, lost to shame ? 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Begone, begone — Oh, get thee hence, and leave me 
 To bury mine own dead. 
 
 PHERES. 
 
 Say thine own victim. 
 Coward ! Ha ! Til get me in to my old dame ; 
 She bears a breath of comfort in her still. 
 
 [JSjc/V Pheres, laughing to himself, 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 How lost to feeling truly is old age ! 
 
ALCESTIS 1+3 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Ah, hadst thou lived it had not come to this ! 
 
 [T^roiuhg himself on the bier, 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 My lord, my lord, refrain ; 
 This grief must be endured. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Oh, bear her hence, 
 And do ye take me with her to the tomb. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Raise ye your burden, and with slow lament 
 Lead on. 
 
 A slovj march is played, Admetus is supported by 
 Attendants. As he goes out he gives vent to his 
 grief in loud cries. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE I. 
 Before the Palace, Night. 
 
 Servant, 'with others ^ bringing torches and lulne, 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Set here the wine. 
 
 [r^^ other servants go out. 
 A hateful guest indeed ! 
 What! must we wake and watch a night like 
 
 this. 
 To serve a drunken rouse ? Ah, my poor mistress ! 
 What means my lord in this ? Many ere now 
 The guests this house has welcomed, and on whom 
 I have attended, but for one so shameless 
 Ne'er have I spread the board. First he made 
 
 bold 
 To enter, though he saw my master's grief j 
 
1^6 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 Then sits he down and takes what cheer we had, 
 
 Not soberly, as would beseem our sorrow. 
 
 But feasting. Nay ! did aught we fail to bring. 
 
 He bade us fetch it. Next, within his hands 
 
 Grasping a goblet, of the grape's dark tide 
 
 Deep draughts he drained, until the mounting 
 
 fumes 
 Heated his senses, and his head he crowned 
 With myrtle sprays, howling discordantly. 
 Thus sits he for these hours, without a thought 
 For the dark trouble brooding in these halls. 
 The while we servants mourned our mistress dear. 
 Hiding our sorrow, as our lord commanded. 
 To please this stranger-guest — belike some ruffian, 
 Some brigand from the hills — while to the grave 
 They bore her forth, nor did I follow her. 
 Or stretch my hands in mourning to the bier — 
 She who was as a mother to us all — 
 Vile roisterer ! we hate thee. Ah ! yet more ! 
 
 [Heracles is heard coming out. 
 
ALCESTIS 14.7 
 
 SCENE IL 
 
 The same^ Heracles. H/x kead lureathed vj'ith a 
 garland and a lulne-cup in his hand. 
 
 HERACLES. Declaiming. 
 
 '^ Crown the bowl and wreathe the brow, 
 Roses bring and rosemary.' . . . 
 
 I like some poems with a little wine, 
 
 But could not make one. 'Sdeath, that must be harder 
 
 Than strangling the beast whose skin adorns 
 
 My noble form. Ha ! more wine, good idiot ! 
 
 The servant fills his cup^ 'which he drains. 
 
 Canst thou sing, glum-face ? 
 
 VDeclaiming again, 
 
 '■ Now the hour invites, and now 
 Phoebus sinks beneath the sea. 
 
 Now, for all, let love's clear star 
 
 Hold sweet influence through the night, 
 
 Till the Dawn, with rushing car, 
 Puts the stars again to flight.' 
 
 L 
 
1^8 ALCESTIS 
 
 That smacks of weather and the snufF o' the morn. 
 Sirrahj more wine ! 'Tis good to be at ease. 
 
 [Sits doivTz. 
 Toil and more toil ; climbs on the steep to-morrow 
 Ever beyond me. Why and to what end ? 
 Nay, there's no knowing. Tush! but I'll outsoar it. 
 A friendly hearth, a cup of kindling wine, 
 ril drink to fortune and the stars which set 
 My cradled fate, and scattered golden hours 
 Like these, if seldom, yet enough to show 
 Soft mid the brazen roughness of my days. 
 Ha, ha, ha ! My thoughts swim out 
 Upon a sea of easy, pleasant things. 
 This wine is good. There steps my lady moon. 
 Pale, dainty huntress of the starry fields. 
 What toil 's amiss beneath the open sky ? 
 And, after toil, to dream about a bowl. 
 Sometimes of labours past, sometimes of love — 
 Though love 's a fool — ha, ha ! — a fool — so 'tis. 
 Methinks with women I am something simple — 
 And yet I like them well. Jove, how they fooled 
 
 me, 
 When I did sit and spin with Omphale ! 
 
ALCESTIS 149 
 
 Dressed in her gown — ha, ha ! — and wound her 
 
 wool — 
 She and her pretty maids — how they did laugh ! 
 
 \^Laughs loudly, 
 SERVANT. 
 
 O ye gods ! 
 
 HERACLES, 
 
 Ho, sirrah ! Why that solemn, thoughtful look ? 
 Servants to scowl on guests ? ^Tis a new fashion. 
 They should be courteous. Is a stranger's death 
 Occasion for such grief? Come hither, friend. 
 And learn more wisdom. Dost thou rightly know 
 The nature of this mxortal state ? I trow not. 
 How shouldest thou ? Then lend an ear to me. 
 Death is the common debt. We all must die. 
 To-morrow, if he see it, no man knows. 
 Or what its fortune. Hearken then and learn 
 Wisdom from me. Be merry, drink thy cup 
 To-day, while it is thine; and for the rest. 
 Yield it to Fortune. And to Cypris too. 
 Sweetest of gods to men, thy tribute pay. 
 Those other cares let be. In this is wisdom. 
 Think thyself fortunate to meet the wise. 
 
 L 2 
 
1^0 ALCESTIS 
 
 Come, we have passed the door, wreathe now thy 
 
 brow. 
 And drink a cup with me. The plash of wine 
 Will ripple round those harboured hulks of grief, 
 And float them from thee. Mortals as we are. 
 Our thoughts should border with mortality; 
 Nor, since we bear its burdens, hang about them 
 These leaden trappings — scowling looks and frowns : 
 'Tis but to make misfortune, and to miss 
 The joys that we might have. 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 All this I know. 
 But revelry and laughter ill beseem 
 Our present state. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 This woman was a stranger ; 
 Why such excess of grief? If thou didst mourn 
 The rulers of thy house, thou couldst not more. 
 Be happy they are living. 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Living ! How ? 
 Thou knowest not the troubles of this house. 
 
ALCESTIS 151 
 
 HERACLES, 
 
 Tush, man ! Thy master told me when I came. 
 And bade me enter. 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 'Twas no time for this ! 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 What ! must we fast because a stranger dies ? 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Did he say ' stranger ' ? Well, my master knows. 
 And 'tis not mine to question what he says. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Ha ! Is there something here ? Has he deceived me? 
 'Twere a strange wrong ! Speak ! Who is it that is 
 dead? 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 My lord, thou seest with what pain we serve thee. 
 Though not unused to guests, many and famous. 
 Sorrow is come upon us, and the time 
 Mocks entertainment. {Wee^s.) Pardon me, my 
 
 lord; 
 I wrong thee and my master in these tears. 
 
1^2 ALCESTIS 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Nay, thou shalt speak. (^Shaking him roughly,) Who 
 is it that is dead ? 
 
 SERVANT. Frightened. 
 Sir, ^tis Alcestis. Ah ! what have I said ? 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 His wife ! . . . Thou saidst his wife ? Alcestis ? 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Aye. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 And he concealed it 1 Wherefore did ye set 
 This cheer before me ? Wherefore let me enter ? 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 ^Twas my lord's will, and his regard for thee. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Unhappy man, of what a wife bereft ! 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Ah! we are all undone, not he alone. 
 
ALCESTIS 1^3 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Fool that I am ! I knew it when I saw 
 
 The trouble of Admetus and his tears, 
 
 The house in mourning, the attendants dumb. 
 
 And with an idle tale I let him cloak 
 
 The promptings of my senses, entering in. 
 
 And drinking in this house where she lay dead — 
 
 Dead, and this night ! O mirth most horrible ! 
 
 And do I wreathe my brow and revel still ? 
 
 [T/proivs doiun his garland. 
 Oh, "'twas ill done, kind friend, to hold thy peace 
 And hide this sorrow — 'twas a cruel kindness ! 
 Where is this burial hence ? Where shall I find her ? 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Beyond the city, by the road which leads 
 Straight to Larissa — thou wilt find her tomb 
 By the wayside; 'tis there our kings are laid. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 O heart ! O soul ! who never failed me yet. 
 Though oft in stress of danger sore bestead. 
 Now show thy mettle worthy of the son 
 Tirynthian Alcmena bare to Zeus. 
 
1^4 ALCESTIS 
 
 The combat now is set, the foe is Death ; 
 
 For I must save this woman, though my life 
 
 Be forfeit, and restore her to her lord. 
 
 Let this atone me and requite his care. 
 
 Now pale the stars, and the first flush of dawn 
 
 Purples the east : it is the time when he. 
 
 The sable-mantled monarch, scents afar 
 
 The fresh blood offerings, and among the tombs 
 
 Steals forth to taste them. There, methinks, I'll find 
 
 him; 
 And once within the circle of these arms. 
 He will be glad enough to yield his prize. 
 But should he come not, where methinks he will, 
 Down to the sunless mansions of the dead 
 I'll make my way ; to sad Persephone, 
 Throned in gloom beside her dusky lord ; 
 To them Til make my prayer, till I prevail. 
 And bring Alcestis to these halls again. 
 
 Rushes out. Thunder is heard. The Servant 
 covers his face. 
 
 I 
 
ALCESTIS 155 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Tke Servant alone. 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Alcmena's son, the heaven-born Heracles ! 
 
 And this his omen ! 
 
 Oh, if a slave may lift his hands in prayer, 
 
 Grant us, great Zeus, a saviour from these ills ; 
 
 1 know not how, but, if it be thy will. 
 
 Some help may come ! 
 
 The light groirs^ and the sound of cattle bells and 
 herdsmen's voices are heard. 
 
 The morning breaks ; already to the hills 
 
 The herdsmen lead the flocks. Soon to the house- 
 
 My lord will be returning. I must haste. 
 
 And take these in. 
 
 yRemoving the ivine-cups^ i3c. 
 
 If he should see these here ! 
 
 \ Looking at the Falace, 
 
 Ah, master, what a coming back is thine ! 
 
 \Exit. 
 
 
1^5 ALCESTIS 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Admetus, Chorus. 
 
 The stage is empty for a short t'tme^ during luhich the sun 
 rises J and the sound of the cattle hells dies ainay 
 up the hills. Enter Admetus, returning from the 
 burial^ folloijjed by Chorus, Attendants, G?f. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Oh ! . . . Oh ! how I loathe this entering in ! 
 Is this your kindness ? 
 
 V?ointing to the Talace. 
 Why did ye restrain 
 My purpose at the tomb to hurl me in. 
 That death might have us both, and there an end ? 
 Oh, that above my head that earth were lying, 
 Deep, trodden down, that I were blotted out 
 In darkness mountainous and heaped high. 
 As is my grief — my grief, aye, and my shame — 
 To let her die ! My wife ! My lovely bride ! 
 How can I live ? How can I live ? 
 
ALCESTIS 1^7 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Go in, 
 
 This fate must be endured. Thou hast thy life ; 
 Be comforted in this. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Ah, woe is me ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Through anguish hast thou gone, full well I know. 
 But tears will not avail. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 O house of mine. 
 How shall I enter thee ? How can I live 
 Within thy chambers, where each stone will keep 
 Her memory, and, should I call her name. 
 In brief forget fulness, will give it back. 
 To mock me with it ? There, where she would sit, 
 Must I sit widowed, or with what dark dwellers I — 
 Ear-haunting silence, peering solitudes. 
 And that abhorred intrusion, vain Regret, 
 Mumbling the past, and telling o'er and o'er 
 The miserere of its might-have-been — 
 
158 ALCESTIS 
 
 These my companions ! 
 
 Alone, my people cursed, hating my parents, 
 
 A speech, a rumour, in the mouths of men — 
 
 The man who dared not die ! — Ah, what is this ? 
 
 A word — some turn of action past recall — 
 
 Must this whole fabric of what seemed our lives 
 
 Crumble beneath us ? — Oh, why are we born ? 
 
 The sport of fate, the wreckage on the shores 
 
 Of its blind, driven tides ! — I had no thought, 
 
 I knew no haven but that one which mocked — 
 
 I know it now — my vision with a dream 
 
 Of happiness and peace — she, whom I loved. 
 
 Still with me, as when, on a morn like this. 
 
 As bright, as fair, I led her home my bride. 
 
 And ye, my friends, — 
 
 [They *weep. 
 
 Ah ! ye remember it — 
 Ye praised her beauty, and ye bid us joy. 
 A coming home — and now ! Ye gods, and now ! 
 
 SitSy and covers his face nvlth his hands, A feijj 
 bars of musk may be played^ and the leader of 
 the Chorus comes to the front of the stage. 
 
ALCESTIS 1^9 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 This is the lot of man. We hold our lives 
 Under encumbrance to some destiny. 
 Whose ends we see not. Of what whole the part. 
 Moved or self-moving, blind or purposeful, 
 Asking, we hear no answer but the sound 
 Of old contentions, echoing through the void 
 Which rounds our lives about. This hath no lore 
 Or system sounded. In these heights the flame 
 Of song sinks baffled. This is that dread power, 
 Owning no altar, worshipped at no shrine. 
 Wrought in no substance but the bleeding heart 
 It presses quivering in its iron hold — 
 Necessity ! 
 
 Oh, if my numbered days. 
 Not without reverence, have brought their tale 
 To the near close, come not, O goddess dread. 
 With heavier hand upon me than erewhile ! 
 
 [Steps hack. 
 
 My lord, bethink thee that, in this affliction. 
 Thou standest not alone, though in rude measure. 
 After prosperity, it comes upon thee. 
 
i6o ALCESTIS 
 
 1 
 Tears will avail not to bring back the dead. 
 
 Loved in her life, her memory remains 
 
 A glory to the earth, and for our children 
 
 A dear inheritance. In this take comfort. 
 
 Thus from thy loss comes gain, and, for that 
 
 loss. 
 
 Time surely will assuage it. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Time, aye, time 
 To love and lose ! This is the end of all. 
 Living and loving, we but furnish forth 
 A pageant streaming onwards to the grave. 
 Why should we wed? Why should we get us 
 
 children ? 
 Unwed and childless, we at least may set 
 A term to sorrow. But, by hope beguiled. 
 And nature's seeming-sweet entanglements. 
 Binding our lives with others, we but build 
 New entrances for grief. Had I ne'er wed, 
 I had not suffered. 
 
 ^n aged Man of the Chorus steps forward. 
 
ALCESTIS i6i 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Hear an old man speak. 
 My son — for sorrow gives to age this leave. 
 Though king, to call thee — let my years com- 
 mend 
 t Some comfort from my speech. Full well I know 
 The bursting flood of sorrow, at the breach 
 And torrent of its onset, wildly comes. 
 But, as the stream with the broad river mingling, 
 The river with the sea, its clamorous heights 
 Sink, spreading through the channels of the world. 
 I once was young, once I too loved and lost 
 A loving wife, and life seemed but a waste. 
 Made wide to entertain the sad guest, grief. 
 But children, pledges of that few years^ love. 
 Friends, and the harder uses of the world, 
 With healing time, brought comfort, and the pain, 
 I had thought endless, grew into a peace 
 And quiet recollection, which shall bring 
 My steps, Heaven willing, calmly to the end. 
 What waits us there I know not, but perchance 
 The gods require our suffering. Prythee take 
 An old man's thought in kindness, kindly meant. 
 
i6z ALCESTIS 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Kind friend, I thank thee, and I thank you all ; 
 Your words are welcome — but I count the dead 
 More blessed . . . 
 
 [He makes a movement to enter the Valace. 
 at rest ... at rest . . . 
 
 \lle stops J overcome. 
 
 The grouping here may he supposed to be as folloiDS : 
 Admetus on the left^ in the act of ascending 
 the steps of the Falace^ leans his head on his 
 arm at the foot of a statue or vase hung ivith 
 a black scarf The Chorus are on the right ^ 
 the Old Man, v^ho has just spoken^ nearest to 
 Admetus, leaning on his staff. Nearer to the 
 audience the Leader of the Chorus stands 
 looking up as in contemplation. At this 
 point enter Heracles, right^ leading in vjith 
 him Alcestis, completely veiled^ folloiued by 
 People of the city. 
 
ALCESTIS i6^ 
 
 SCENE V. 
 T^e same^ Heracles, Alcestis. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Admetus . . . 
 
 Admetus . . . 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Ah, my guest, I had forgot . . . 
 But what is this ? \Starts at seeing the veiled figure, 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Admetus, to a friend 
 A friend should speak his mind. I will not blame 
 
 thee. 
 Knowing thy sorrow, and what grief has come 
 Upon thy house • nay, rather do I blame 
 My own inconstancy, and that I yielded 
 My purpose to a tale — 'twas not well done. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Ah, friend, forgive me, but to let thee go 
 Was to add pain to grief. 
 
 M 
 
1(^4 ALCESTIS 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Nay, but bethink thee, 
 1 took thy cheer and revelled in these halls. 
 And then, and then I heard — but that is passed j 
 I know thy kindness — thou shalt do me yet 
 A service, one more welcome to thy friend. 
 Bound on this Thracian labour, I would leave 
 Here, in thy charge, this woman, and if aught 
 Should there befall me, keep her in thy house 
 For a friend^s sake. 'Twas as a prize I won her, 
 With no small toil — a contest that was set 
 For games and wrestling, passing which I claimed 
 To enter in the lists for this fair prize ; 
 And won her, as thou seest. So, as I say. 
 Receive her in thy charge, and thou mayest live 
 To thank me for her. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Never must thou think, 
 
 prince, to slight thee, that I told thee not 
 My sorrow, or the woe which on my house 
 Has fallen ; 'twas that, as I said just now, 
 
 1 could not see thee go. But, for this service. 
 
ALCESTIS i(^T 
 
 If it be possible, I pray thee lead 
 
 The maid elsewhere. Bid some Thessalian friend — 
 
 For thou hast others — one who has not suffered 
 
 As I have, take her. Oh, remind me not 
 
 Of my misfortune, for, to see her here, 
 
 I could not bear it, and my head is bowed 
 
 Enough by grief. How could a tender maid — 
 
 For such her form and vesture show her — dwell 
 
 Within these halls alone ? Or to my bed 
 
 Am I to take her, false and faithless found 
 
 To my dead wife ? Oh, never I Spare me that ! 
 
 And thou too, lady, whosoever thou art, 
 
 Bringest before mine eyes the very form 
 
 Of my Alcestis. Take from my sight this maiden, 
 
 I do conjure thee. Slay me not again ! 
 
 For now in her I seem to see once more 
 
 My wife — ah, me ! — my heart is darkly troubled. 
 
 Now do I taste indeed the bitterness 
 
 Of this my grief. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Would that I had the power 
 From the dark realms of death to bring again 
 
i66 A LC EST IS 
 
 Thy wife, such service from me mightst thou 
 have. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Right well I know it, but this may not be ; 
 The dead return not. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 From the realms below 
 Since they return not, it behoves thee bear 
 Thy grief with moderation, and in this 
 To prove the man within thee. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Sayest thou well ? 
 Yet there are sufferings too hard for counsel ; 
 And such is this. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 But wilt thou mourn for ever. 
 Give grief the rein, and pass thy life in tears ? 
 Surely the time may come when a new marriage 
 Shall stay thy sorrow ? 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Peace ! what word were this ? 
 Oh, speak not of it ! 
 
ALCESTIS 16-] 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Ah, well ! Take, at least, 
 This maid beneath the shelter of thy house. 
 This wrongs thee not. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 By Zeus, thy sire, I beg thee 
 Spare me in this ! 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Nay, thou canst not refuse 
 So light a favour — though 'tis something near 
 My heart, and, under heaven, thou mayest yet 
 Thank me for this. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 If I may not refuse thee, 
 Loth as I am, my servants here may take her. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Not so • ril trust her to no hand but thine. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 I cannot — nay, I will not — take her hence — 
 Or, lead her in thyself, if so thou must. 
 
 M 5 
 
1^8 ALCESTIS 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Give me thy hand. Thus — 
 
 He places the hand of Alcestis In the hand of 
 
 Admetus. 
 
 And now lead her in. 
 
 admetus. Trembling and ivith averted eyes. 
 
 I needs must yield, for thou constrainest me 
 Forth from my will in this. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Thou hast her ? 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Aye. 
 
 HERACLES. Remove s the veil. 
 
 Then keep her safely, and in days to come 
 Thou wilt confess that, in the son of Zeus, 
 Thou entertain'dst a guest of no mean worth. 
 
 Admetus, having turned and recognized Alcestis, 
 starts back In fear and amazement ^ covering 
 his face vjith his hands. 
 
 Nay, look upon her, mark her features well • 
 
ALCESTIS 1^5) 
 
 And, if they bear the likeness of thy wife. 
 Own thyself blessed, and cease from sorrowing. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Ye gods ! what do I see ? beyond all hope, 
 A marvel ! 'Tis my wife, my own true wife j 
 Or is't some sweet delusion sent from heaven. 
 To make me mad ? 
 
 Thou seest here. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Nay, nay, 'tis thine own wife 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 May I then speak to her, 
 And touch her, as my living wife indeed ? 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Ay, that thou mayest. 'Tis she, thy heart's desire. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Touches her hand and^ reassured^ falls on his knees 
 and presses it to his lips. 
 My wife ! 
 

 lyo ALCESTIS 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 Aye, 'tis thy wife, and may the joy 
 Thou hast, escape the envy of the gods ! 
 
 ADMETUS. Rising and releasing her hand. 
 
 My wife, O heavens ! past hope, beyond recall, 
 I had thought hence ! 
 
 [To Heracles, 
 
 How didst thou bring her back ? 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 A prize, 1 won her from the arms of Death. 
 'Twas, as I said, a prize 3 and at the tomb 
 I rushed upon him, as he came to taste 
 The poured blood offerings. 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 But why stands she thus 
 Speechless ? 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 It is not lawful that she speak. 
 Till the third day be spent, and cleansing rites 
 
ALCESTIS 171 
 
 Are duly done, for there has passed upon her 
 The breath of the dead world. Lead her now in. 
 
 Alcestis makes a movement toioards Admetus, 
 luho leads her up the steps of the Falace. 
 Before going up he turns to Heracles. 
 
 ADxMETUS. 
 
 Oh, Stay with us and be our welcome guest. 
 
 HERACLES. 
 
 I may not now. Another contest calls. 
 And 1 must hasten. Fare ye well — Farewell ! 
 
 ADMETUS. 
 
 Farewell, and Heaven go with thee, best of friends! 
 
 [Exit Heracles amid acclamations. 
 
 On the terrace of the Talace^ holding his 'wife's hand. 
 
 And now, ye people, let the song of joy 
 Sound through our city, and a time be set 
 For praise and due thanksgiving to the gods. 
 Nov/ am I blessed, now do I know indeed 
 At last my happiness. 
 
i/i ALCESTIS 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Thus from our ills 
 Doth Heaven bring good. Thus on our night of 
 
 gloom 
 Hath dawned a day of joy. Oh, be it mine 
 To keep my steps in reverence, and to see 
 In all my ways the guiding hand of Heaven ! 
 
 To Admetus and Alcestis. 
 
 Hail ! and all joy go with ye ! 
 
 Admetus leads Alcestis to the doorivay of the 
 Valace^ nuhere he turns and again -presents her 
 to the people. A March — acclamations. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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