THE HOUSE OF ATREUS. THE HOUSE OF ATREUS BEING THE AGAMEMNON, LIBATION-BEARERS, AND FURIES OF AESCHYLUS. TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE BY E. D. A. MORSHEAD, M.A LATE FELLOW OF NEW COLLEGE, OXFORD, ASSISTANT MASTER OF WINCHESTER COLLEGE. Some mourning words, which in our feeble tongue Would come in these like accents ; O how frail To that large utterance of the early gods ! Hyperion. IConlion : SIMPKIN AND MARSHALL. STATIONERS' HALL COURT. Minrljester : WARREN AND SON, 85. HIGH STREET. WINCHESTER : BARREN AND SON, 85, HIGH ST [All rights resened.} DEDICATED TO EDWARD CHARLES WICKHAM. 2022128 PREFACE. son of Euphorion, an Athenian of the deme of Eleusis, was bom, B.C. 525. He consecrated his life to the tragic art from his youth upwards : yet he is held to have been a valiant soldier, and with his brother Cynegirus to have fought at Marathon, and at Salamis, and at Platsea as some say. Afterwards, being at variance with the Athe- nians, he went away from them unto Sicily, and dwelt at the court of Hiero, tyrant of Gela, and was held by him in high honour. He died in his sixty-ninth year by a strange fate, whereof he had been warned in an oracle, saying A stroke from heaven shall slay thee. For as he was walking on the shore, an eagle, that had snatched up a tortoise into the air, let it drop ; and it fell upon him, and he died. Such is almost all that we are told, and more than we can be said to know certainly, of the life of the poet, whose masterpiece I have done my best to render into English verse, with the hope of helping one or two of those to whom the original is a closed book, to share in its treasures. The remaining fragments of tradition the cause of his quarrel with his countrymen the statement that he divulged the Sacred Mysteries remain, not now to be verified. Of PREFACE. those given above, the tale of his death has been preserved for its striking singularity : it has the authority of story, and no more. To his familiarity with war, by land and sea, his surviving dramas bear the strongest witness. There is a priori likelihood, and intrinsic evidence, and some external testimony, of his having shared in one or more of the great battles which saved the western world. Nor does his departure from Athens to whatever cause it was due nor his residence, apparently on two separate occasions, in Sicily, admit of doubt. A vague statement* that his poetry was inspired by wine a portraiture of him by the pen of Aristophanes in the Frogs (intended, as, I am convinced, those of Euripides and Socrates by the same hand were intended, mainly as a literary portrait of the author and teacher, not a delineation of the man as he was) ; some notices! from Aristotle of the improvements intro- duced by him into the arrangements of the dramatic stage : these, and a few others, form the whole of our scanty information respecting the life of ^Eschylus, son of Euphorion. Slat magni nominis umbra. Of his works there remain to us seven dramas only, out of a very large number. Fragments or notices bring up the total to seventy-eight plays of which the titles are known. If we can judge of those we have not, in any degree, by those which we have, and many of the fragments lead us towards such an estimate, the chaos of lost things holds no equal treasure : but it is not now to be rescued ; in his own words Perhaps a list of the surviving dramas may be useful to those wishing to form an idea of the poet's scope and range. * Athen. x, p. 428, F. t Poet. 4, Hor. A. P. /. 278 ; Themistius Or. 26. PREFACE. These plays (in the chronological order that seems most probable) are I. The Suppliant Maidens. The Scene is laid at Argos. II. The Prometheus Bound. The Scene is on a Scythian peak, looking doumfrom afar upon the Euxine. III. The Persians. Scene The Tomb of Darius at Susa, the treasure city of the king of Persia. IV. The Seven against Thebes. Scene, the City of Thebes in Baotia. i V. The Agamemnon. VI. The Libation-Bearers. I VII. The Furies. Of these three last plays, which form a consecutive whole, called a Trilogy, and yet are individually complete, the scene is Argos or Mycensc : * afterwards, the Temple of Apollo at Delphi : lastly, the Acropolis and Areopagus at Athens. Of an Athenian Trilogy (i.e., a combination of three dramas by the same hand, whether on the same or different subjects, for consecutive presentment on the same day, and followed by a lighter play called a Satyric Drama), there * Argos and Mycenas are in reality about six miles apart, in the great xorXo* "Ap>o?, wide valley of Argolis. The relics of the dynasty of Atreus are undoubtedly at Mycenae. ^Eschylus however calls the scene, always, Argos : not caring to particularize about a district so well known. The fact that he describes the beacon fire on Mount Arachne as visible to the palace need not lead us to conclude that he had Argos more in mind than Mycenae : though the mountain is visible (if I remember right) from Larissa, the citadel of Argos, and not (I am sure) from the Acropolis of Mycenae. The beacon-glare would have been clearly seen from either, no doubt But ./Eschylus ignores such detail : as Mr. Clark (Peloponnesus, p. 70) remarks, every Athenian saw daily from his own hills the peak of Arachne to the south, and knew it looked upon the region of Argos : and this was enough for the poet PREFACE. remains to us this solitary specimen : of the Satyric Drama, the Cyclops of Euripides, familiar to English readers by Shelley's translation. It may be added, to explain the apparent difficulty of listening continuously to three dramas, each in itself a perfect whole, that, in the first place, a whole day of leisure, and not the few last hours, between work or play, and sleep, of an exhausted audience, was devoted to the Theatre ; and secondly, that the whole length of the three plays combined which form this Trilogy is rather less than that of Hamlet. I do not say that they would not necessarily take longer to act than Hamlet : but merely that the intellectual strain, to an appreciative audience, would not necessarily be greater. Change of interest, not mere rest, is the essential relaxation of the mind, and this, which Shakespeare provides, e.g., by the soliloquies of Hamlet, the Greek dramatists and pre- eminently ^Eschylus provided by the Choric Odes, or chants inserted between the several episodes of the play. Of such Odes, this Trilogy, and especially the Agamemnon, presents to us the noblest surviving specimens. They may be regarded as the poet's profoundest musings on the moral and religious and historical problems suggested by the mythical tale which forms the groundwork of his drama. Of the grandeur, the preternatural effect, of these musings, while the imminent doom is preparing, no words of explanation or translation can give an adequate account. If it is lawful to adopt words written for a very different purpose by a poet in whom survives more of the spirit of ^Eschylus than in any other -modern one might say of these choric odes, " They are as a pause, a breathing-space, a curtain behind which God, the great scene-shifter, prepares the last and supreme act of the mighty drama. Listen, how, in the deep shadow behind, a dull and heavy sound is waxing ! Listen, what footstep is that which passes to PREFACE. and fro ? Look ! how the curtain sways and waves and trembles before the breath of that which is behind ! " * Of the mythical tale, well known as it is, which forms the groundwork of this Trilogy, some slight sketch may be useful. Atreus and Thyestes, sons of Pelops, fled from their father and dwelt at Argos with Eurystheus the king thereof: and when he died, Atreus f ruled in his place, and wedded his daughter. But Thyestes wronged his brother's wife, and was banished from Argos. And after a while he returned again, and clung unto the altar at Argos; and Atreus, fearing to slay him, devised this deed. He slew certain of the children of Thyestes, and bade him to a banquet, and gave him to eat of his own children's flesh : and he ate, knowing not what it was. But when he knew what was done, he spake a bitter curse upon the house of Atreus, that they all should perish by a doom like that of his own children. And there befel these woes unto that house, that for three generations the curse of murder departed not away. For the children of Atreus, Agamemnon and Menelaus, wedded the daughters of Leda, Clytemnestra and Helen : and afterwards Paris the son of Priam, being the guest of Menelaus, did bear away Helen his queen unto Troy. And Agamemnon and Menelaus went forth to vengeance against Paris and Troy. But Artemis was wroth with the brothers, and forbade their ships to sail ; and they lay at Aulis many days. And Calchas the prophet pro- claimed that they should not go forth, unless Agamemnon * V. Hugo, Napoleon le Petit, ch. last. t The position of Pleisthenes in the family of Atreus seems doubtful, though the lineage is twice called by his name. (Ag. II. 1569, 1602). Atreus is distinctly called father of Agamemnon (/. 1561), yet tradition rather holds that Pleisthenes was son of Atreus and father of Agamemnon and Menelaus, but, dying young, left his children to the care of their grandfather Atreus. PREFACE. should offer up his daughter Iphigenia in sacrifice unto Arteinis. And the king was unwilling so to do : yet for his oath's sake, and for his brother and the captains of the fleet, he consented, and offered up his daughter : and the fleet sailed. And they besieged Troy for nine years, and in the tenth year it fell. But Clytemnestra, the wife of Agamemnon, was wroth because of her daughter's death ; and she did evil with yEgisthus, the youngest son of Thyestes ; and they plotted to murder Agamemnon when he should return, and sent away his son Orestes unto Strophius, king of Phocis, that he might not know what they did. And when Agamemnon came back from Troy Clytemnestra received him gladly, and led him into the palace : and as he was bathing himself, she flung over him a net, and smote him, and he died : and Clytemnesti'a and ^Egisthus ruled in Argos. But Orestes heard of his father's wrongful death, and went unto the oracle of Delphi to enquire thereof, and Apollo bade him avenge his father, and not spare his own mother but slay her. And secretly he came to Argos, bearing feigned news of his own death in Phocis, and so came into the palace of his father again, and slew his mother Clytemnestra and ^Egisthus. Then was he dis- traught and maddened by the Furies, in revenge for Clytemnestra's slaying : and he wandered over the earth, seeking purification for his deed, but the Furies followed him. At last he came to the temple of Delphi, and clung to the altar : and the God cast a deep sleep over the Furies, and bade him fly to Athens, where he should find safety. But the ghost of Clytemnestra arose from the shades and awoke the Furies, and they followed him, and were wroth with Apollo. And they held dispute on the Acropolis, and Athena bade certain of the men of Athens decide the cause with her. And in the end they proclaimed the deed of PREFACE. xiii Orestes to have been rightly done, and the guilt of matricide to have been wiped away. Then the Furies were angered with Athena and her land : but Athena promised them great honour from the Athenians, and a sacred dwelling place in the land, even a cave beneath Areopagus ; and they were appeased, and were called no more Furies, but Gracious Goddesses. And Orestes went back unto his father's kingdom, and the curse of blood upon the house of Atreus was stayed.* It will be obvious, even from a compendium like the foregoing, that the myth is an epic in itself : and regarding ^Eschylus' treatment of it as a whole, we may discern a special propriety in the poet's recorded saying, that his dramas were "scraps from the lordly feast of Homer." I have sometimes fancied that an interesting parallel might be drawn between the three parts of the Trilogy, and the three divisions of the Divina Commedia. For we have in both, the same central idea ; the succession, that is, of guilt, atonement, absolution. Dante fixes his epic in the future world, ^Eschylus in the present: but mutatis mutandis, substituting the deepest religious thought of Athens for that of the middle ages, the most shadowy and gigantic vision of retributory forces for the clearest and most distinct we shall find the parallel curiously suggestive, to say the least, of the essential unity of moral speculation. The first part of the Trilogy, the drama Agamemnon, takes up the above myth at the point where Agamemnon's return from Troy is being anxiously awaited at Argos, in the tenth year of the war. The first choric ode recalls some of the previous history, dwelling * I have ventured to give to the whole Trilogy the title of The House of Atreus as the name most applicable to all three parts. The older name Oresteia seems to me to have meant, in Aristophanes, (Frogs, 1124), The Libation-Bearers only : it is hardly applicable to the Agamemnon, xiv PREFACE. particularly on the circumstances of the sacrifice of Iphigenia. Then follows the appearance of the Herald, and of Agamemnon ; the treacherous welcome of Cly- temnestra; the prophecy of Cassandra, daughter of Priam, now a captive in Agamemnon's train ; the murder of the king, and Clytemnestra's savage exultation over his body and that of Cassandra. With the appearance of yEgisthus, and his avowal of his plot and motives, the drama closes, leaving Clytemnestra and her paramour in supreme power over Argos. The second part, called the Choephoroi, or Libation- Bearers from the duty imposed upon the chorus of pouring libations on Agamemnon's tomb opens with the secret return of Orestes, the mutual recognition of himself and his sister Electra, and their invocation of the sleepless spirit of their father to aid their planned revenge. Then Orestes, assuming the character of a Phocian stranger, recounts to Clytemnestra a feigned tale of his own death in that land. Then, received into the palace, he slays ^Egisthus and Clytemnestra, and avows his commission from Apollo to do the deed. But already his " are but wild and whirling words ;" and, maddened by the guilt of blood, he sees the Furies arise, with dark robes and snaky hair; and, calling on Apollo for protection, he flees wildly away.* * Two scenes of the Trilogy have been thus admirably sketched by Mr. Browning in " Pauline." "Old lore, Loved for itself and all it shows ; the king Treading the purple calmly to his death, While round him, like the clouds of eve, all dusk, The giant shades of fate, silently flitting, Pile the dim outline of the coming doom. And the boy With his white breast and brow, and clustering curls, Streaked with his mother's blood, and striving hard To tell his story ere his reason goes." PREFACE. The third part, called The Furies (the Greek name " Euuienides " signifying literally " The Gracious Ones," from the change in the nature of the Furies with which the drama closes), opens at Delphi in the temple of Apollo. The Furies lie in sleep, made drowsy by the God : Orestes clings to the altar : Apollo bids him be of good hope, and depart unto Athens while the Furies are yet asleep. As he passes from the stage, the ghost of Clytemnestra rises and calls the slumbering Furies to arise and pursue the criminal. Then Apollo himself, with words of loathing, bids them forth from his temple ; and scenting like hounds the truck of blood, they follow the flying Orestes. Here the scene shifts to Athens ; Orestes, having followed the behest of Apollo, clings to the statue of Athena on the Acropolis, and claims her aid. The cause is tried, appar- ently on Areopagus (the scene probably representing both the Acropolis and the adjacent Areopagus) Athena pre- siding, Apollo pleading Orestes' part, the Furies impeaching him of matricide. The votes are cast, and found equal, for acquittal and condemnation ; and this result, as Athena has previously ruled, gives Orestes the benefit of the doubt. The Furies, wroth at being thus defrauded of their victim, vow vengeance on Athena's land and nation : but she appeases them by promising them honourable worship for ever, as gracious and fostering Powers of Earth, from her own Athenians : and so, solemnly escorted by torches and processions, they pass down into their subterranean cave beneath Areopagus, with words of blessing upon Attica; and the third and last part of the Trilogy closes with joy and with extinction of the curse. It will appear by a glance at this plot that the Agamemnon and The Libation- Bearers are both of them Tragedies in the accepted modern sense ; the one closing with the death of Agamemnon and the triumph of murder and adultery ; the other, with the death of Clytemnestra and with madness as xvi PREFACE. the reward of matricide. The Furies might seem, to modern eyes, less a tragedy than a drama of restoration ; yet it con- forms in all respects to the Aristotelian definition of Tragedy. The situation is undeniably tragic, though the conclusion dispels the gloom. The Trilogy is ^Eschylus' presentment of two problems, each of eternal import, though the form in which he contemplated them was the common theme of the Greek drama. These problems are : I. The Retribution of Crime. II. The Inheritance or Transmission of Evil. The views of the poet on each may perhaps be illustrated by a few excerpts from his writings. It has been pointed out (Plumptre, Biographical Essay) that, in many cases, they are reflections on the <yva)fj,ai, or current proverbs of the day: the foundations of Greek philosophy, but often as forgotten as those who laid them. Sometimes the poet actually quotes and acknowledges the proverb, as a rpiyepwv /u)0o?, " an immemorial saying ; " but often, it is probable that some piece of apparently irrelevant mysticism is in reality the poet's reflection on some saying familiar to his audience, but not recognizable by us. Such, e.g., I believe to be the case in the celebrated passage (Agam, 160) Zevs, 6'<rrt<? TTOT' eoTtV. tc.T.\. RETRIBUTION. " Among the dead, this bitter name of murderess clings ever to my soul ; I wander scorned of all." " Though he go down to the grave, the guilty is never freed . . . the sinner on whose hand is the stain of blood must see the Furies rise at his side, avengers of murder, champions of the slain." The Furies, II. 175, 316. " There is one who spoils the spoiler ; the slayer in his turn is slain; while Zeus is lord of the world, it is fixed that all who sin shall suffer." Agamemnon, I. 1562. PREFACE. " The anvil-block of Justice is planted firm : Fate the sword-smith hammers the steel of her design : the mighty Fury from her dark depth of counsel requites to the uttermost at last the guilt of blood shed forth of old." The Libation-Bearers, I. 647. "There is a law that blood-drops shed upon the ground demand other bloodshed in requital : Murder calls aloud, summoning a Fury, who brings a further woe, sent up in vengeance from those who were slain before. Ibid, /. 400. INHERITANCE OF EVIL. "One said of old that the gods have no heed to punish him who tramples down the grace of things holy : 'twas impiously said ! their vengeance is manifested upon the children of all who breathe forth rebellion overmuch, what time their houses teem with weal too great for man." Agamemnon, I. 369. " There is an ancient saying, that human bliss, if it reach its summit, doth not die childless ; that from prosperity springs up a bane, a woe insatiable. I hold not so : 'tis impious act that bears those many children, all like the race from which they sprang : but the house of the upright hath a blessed fate, a progeny of good." Agamemnon, I. 750. These excerpts, few oiit of many passages bearing on the same subject, may perhaps be a help towards grasping the import of these dramas as a whole. Not the least of ^Eschylus' claims to honour in his divergence, in some points, from the traditional and accepted views of the time, with respect to hereditary guilt and responsibility. A belief in a jealous and vindictive Power, in children suffering for their fathers' sins, in families lying under a curse for generations was not only familiar to the Athenians of this epoch, but approached the condition of an accepted tenet : it was even, at times, a political force : as, in the case of Pericles, his membership of the Alcmceonid family (which lay under a curse for the perfidious and impious murder of PREP ACE. the partisans of Cylon) undoubtedly operated in his disfavour. (See Thucyd. Bk. i, ch. 127.) The proportion of people who believe in an unjust, capricious, and vindictive God may have diminished since the time of ^Eschylus and Ezekiel : yet to this day so large a minority are haunted by corresponding ideas so considerable even in our own time has been the political . influence of such notions that the earnest protest of the Hebrew prophet and the less distinct yet equally purified doctrine of the Athenian poet can neither of them be said to have lost their importance nor to have done their work. The eighteenth chapter of Ezekiel, and the third chorus of the Agamemnon, should be read together, as the grandest assertions, in pre-christian times, of the justice of God. The poetry of ^Eschylus is the precursor of the philosophy of Plato : the vague and mysterious problems over which the poet brooded became the subjects of moral philosophy in the next generation. Let it be remembered that we have in ^Eschylus the beginnings of speculation, not its ultimate forms ; and the greatness of this first step will be at once apparent. ^Eschylus deals especially with two popular theories : (i.) The doctrine of the jealousy of Heaven against human prosperity as such; (ii.) The doctrine above mentioned of the inheritance of evil in certain families. The first, he may be said to deny. The teaching of Solon, as recorded and exemplified by Herodotus in the history of Croesus (Book i, ch. 30-33), "that the Divine Power is altogether jealous, and loves to trouble the estate of man," is confronted by ^Eschylus with the assertion of justice, not caprice, as ruling over man. That this con- ception brought the poet into collision with the popular ideas of Zeus, is manifest from the drama of Prometheus Vinctus (where, unfortunately, we have the problem without PREFACE. xix its solution, the rest of the trilogy being lost) : that the national polytheism had little hold on his belief, however largely it affected his poetry, seems to me plain from all his deeper utterances, notwithstanding the assertion of Klausen (Theol. JEsch., p. 5) to the contrary.* But of the poet's attitude towards the theory of a vindictive God, there is no question. " I am alone in my thought" he cries ; " it is not wealth, nor prosperity it is impiety that breeds other sins, and woe for its sequel." It is hard to resist the temptations of wealth, and power, and victory ; yet not these things, but the yielding to their temptations, do the gods punish : not Agamemnon's triumph, not even the carnage of Troy, but his arrogance and pride on his return : his making himself equal to the gods. (Ag. I. 811). The second doctrine that of the inheritance of evil in certain families, forms the groundwork of the whole Trilogy; and the poet's views on it must be collected : they are nowhere concentrated or distinctly expressed. Substantially they appear to apply to the following condition of things. The idea of an Ate, or inherited curse which dogs certain families, has a double origin. I. An origin of fact : that children are like their parents, grow up under their influence, borrow from their connection with them much of their own character. II. An origin in custom. A family crime had a far more serious import to an ancient Greek than we can readily realize.! It is the simple fact, that the idea of individual responsibility, and even of individual existence, was almost absent from him. The family was his unit; the family sinned in the sin of any of its members ; the family exacted or suffered vengeance ; any member of the family who was slain by another was held to have incurred the stain of suicide. * See Fr. 295. f See Maine, "Ancient Law," ch. 5. PREFACE The author of the Trilogy endeavours to purify these ideas, and to reconcile them alike with the doctrine of Justice and with the facts of the world. The reality of the curse is not denied, but the voluntary nature of each stage in its history is asserted, as is the responsibility of the individual criminal for his own act. The temptation, the predisposition, may be extraneous, may be imposed by heaven ; the deed is his own. "The first step he is master not to take;" but, if once it be taken, if the altar of right be once spurned the miserable, desperate impulse is upon him; he goes from sin to sin, there is no help for him, he has passed among the lost. Such, I believe, is the inner doctrine of ^Eschylus, struggling to light through language of vague import, and occasional inconsistencies ; especially in the relation of this process of evil to the divine will or permission. Nor must we forget his solution of the moral problem, in The Furies. The family guilt and curse are to be closed by an appeal to human justice, which measures the guilt of the individual by the circumstances and motives of his crime, and has power to absolve, as well as to mete out punishment to, an admitted criminal. Granting, as we must grant, the belief in such an hereditary curse as JSschylus made the subject of his trilogy, it is impossible to conceive a nobler solution of the problem ; a nobler " purification by pity and terror," if we may adopt in an extended sense Aristotle's definition of Tragedy. Perhaps it may not be out of place to say a few words with respect to a charge, often brought against ^Eschylus, of being a bombastic poet. It is undeniable that in his earlier plays there is a tendency towards inflated language ; such prodigies as e^)ei|ra\co^7; Ka^e^povr^dr] crdivos (Prom. I. 362), as dXctxrifjiov iraiav eVe^ta/r^acra? (Seven against Thebes, I. 635), show, at all events, a poetic artist PREFACE. who has not yet fully dissevered the large from the fine, the grandiose from the grand. Neither are the thoughts in these plays always free from the same charge, though the occurrence of such metaphors as we regard as Oriental, seems to me to demonstrate capacity rather than ex- travagance in the Greek poet. It is surprising, for instance, to hear in the celebrated description of the battle of Salamis (The Persians, I. 577), and of the floating corpses of the drowned Persians, and " death gnawing upon them : " Troj a,vavSu "They are scattered and peeled by the voiceless children of the Pure," i.e., the sea it is surprising, I say, to 'find such a phrase treated as fantastic and Oriental. The same thought has been touched by Shakespeare (The Tempest, Act ii, sc. 1) : "O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee ! " and by Shelley (Similes} : "Asa shark and dog-fish wait Under an Atlantic isle, For the negro-ship whose freight Is the theme of their debate, Wrinkling their red gills the while." But how inferior each expression is to that of ^Eschylus, need hardly be pointed out. Shakespeare's is simple almost to baldness : Shelley's, powerfully, almost horribly, descriptive ; but yEschylus, retaining the physical word (aKv\\ovrai), paints the rest of the scene with a rich imagination. The children of earth, but now so clamorous, are at the mercy of the still children of that sea whose translucent purity they have harassed and distracted in vain. xxii PREFACE. However this may be, what I wish to point out is that all traces of immature work have disappeared, when we reach the Trilogy. The sonorous verse remains, but the exaggerated style is gone. The ponderous imprecations of the Prometheus or the Seven against Thebes have turned to verse like this : ov pen <t>o,3oy jtxXa6^oi sATTK IpTfotTttv. Occasionally, as in the prophecy of Calchas, the oracular style is purposely assumed ; or, as in The Furies, /. 285 sqq.) a scene of monstrous horrors is described in monstrous terms ; but of real bombast, of large language misapplied, there is no more. With this disappearance, a new faculty has arisen : a dramatic art of the most admirable kind. Not even the excellent double interest of the CEdipus Tyrannus of Sophocles is superior to the scene of Clytem- nestra's welcome of Agamemnon, Avith its effusive insincerity and ominous words of double and deadly meaning. The whole character of Clytemnestra is a refutation of those who maintain that we may find poetry in ^Eschylus, but must go to Sophocles or Euripides for drama. Nor must we omit to notice the marvellous art displayed in the whole episode of Cassandra. Her spirit is utterly full of Apollo, the Sun- God, the Slayer of Night : a mention, nay, a mere hint of him (TTvdofcpavTa, I. 1255) banishes in a moment her brief sanity, and she bursts into ravings again. She is penetrated with the " fire intolerant and intense " of his coming, of the sunrise of prophecy burning brighter and clearer, while in its light the great waves of doom roll up and on. His approach is a scorching glow of fire, before his presence is revealed, O ITVfl' 7TJITai "A7To?iAo>* PREFACE. xxiii " Ah, ah the fire ! it waxes, nears me now Woe, woe for me, Apollo of the dawn ! " And her last speech is a cry to the actual sun, whose light she will see no more for ever, to light her avengers to their work. Close inspection of all this scene will show ^Eschylus at his very highest point of inspiration ; it is as true, and as imaginative, as anything in King Lear. With respect to the text, I think I have only once departed from usual interpretations. Where the text is mutilated or corrupt I have supplied or amended, as the context seemed to direct, to the extent of a word or two. (See Appendix to The Libation-Bearers.} The one occasion where my version differs, I believe, from any yet suggested, is the celebrated passage (Ag. II. 105-7) : This I have interpreted in opposition to those who have taken a\ica o~v/j,<f)VTo<; alwv as in some way describing the condition of the speaker. I suggest that it may rather be taken closely with deodev and that the whole passage means "Still upon me doth the divine life, whose strength waxes never old (lit. which is congenital with strength), breathe from heaven the impulse of song." This seems to suit the context well, as I may shortly explain. The chorus have just been bewailing the sad and tremulous weakness of old age, too feeble for war, too feeble to walk without a staff, sad and presageful of future evils, and only at moments roused to hope by propitious omens of sacrifice. Suddenly the light of comfort breaks upon them. Old and feeble, they have yet the divine inspiration of song, breathed on them from " realms of help " (akicd} by powers which never wax old nor feeble. Then follows the matchless ode, with PREFACE. its profound theology, its analysis of human perplexity, its utter pathos in describing the sacrifice of Iphigenia. In defence of this view, I would urge that a\Ka is not a usual word at least, I have been unable to find an instance of its use for any mental power like genius or inspiration. It almost always means physical prowess ; and if it becomes metaphorical at all, it becomes so in the sense of help or aid (as in The Furies, L 257, a\icav e^&)y = clasping or hold- ing help, by embracing the image of the goddess : taking sanctuary, in short). If this view of the word be correct, the word itself applies very ill to the chorus, whose physical feebleness and powerlessness to help has just been alluded to : but very well to the gods, whose ageless strength and power to aid is contrasted with human weakness. The thought in d\Ka av/j,(f>vTO<; alwv will thus be parallel to that in dyijpa) yjpovui Swdaras of Sophocles Ant. /. 608. Undoubtedly there is a difficulty in applying such a phrase as crv/i<uTo<? alouv to the divine life at all. But it seems allowable to use words, properly only applicable to human life, with reference to the divine, in a passage like this, where in thought the contrast is drawn between the former as an ala>v CTU//,<UTO<> indeed, but not a\.fea(rv/j,<f)VTO<;, and the latter, verily an al<bv in the wider sense, and d\Kq <rvfjL(J)VTos t coeval with its etenial power to prompt and aid. And certainly the word KdTcnrveiei, in its most literal sense, seems to suit this idea of a sacred impulse, an aid like a wafting wind, breathed down from heaven. I put forward this conjecture without confidence, and merely as one more endeavour to elucidate a passage of more than usual interest, which is allowed to be dubious hitherto. To make it refer to the life or condition of the speaker seems to me difficult; to translate it "the time co-extensive with the war " almost impossible : whether my own conjecture is any better, iudicent alii. For the feeling PREFACE. of the whole passage, it might not be amiss to compare Goethe's vindication of the "honour and toil" that await the old, in song. Doch in's bekannte Saitenspiel Mil Muth und Anmuth einzugreifen, Nach einem selbstgesteckten Ziel Mit holdem Irren hinzuschweifen, Das, alte Herrn, ist cure Pflicht Faust, Part i., Theatre Prelude. With respect to the translation, my object has been, throughout, to be, if possible, readable. I have sacrificed much that scholars might fairly desiderate reproduction of the original metres, preservation of strophe and antistrophe and so forth on this ground, that I found my own metrical skill insufficient to satisfy even myself, in such a task. I have little doubt that certain parts Cassandra's earlier ravings for instance, or the wrath of the Furies would be most fitly rendered in prose like that of the analogous passages of King Lear and Macbeth : but here, too, after a struggle, I resigned the conflict. It is easy to write prose ; it is impossible to write tJiat prose. The Anapaestic systems have been mostly rendered in octosyllabic metre ; where dactylic feet were predominant in the original, I have sometimes adopted the heroic quatrain, sometimes loose and irregular, but always rhyming, measures. The earlier part of the third chorus of the Agamemnon I have endeavoured to reproduce in that arrangement of octo- syllabic verses used with such admirable effect by Mr. Swin- burne in the Prologue and Epilogue of " Songs before Sunrise." The iambic dialogue has been rendered into such blank verse, or rhyming couplets, as I could command : the trochaic passages into rhyming verse of greater length. Any coincidences that may be found between other trans- lations and the present may claim to be for the most part PREFACE. accidental. Whatever has been consciously adopted from elsewhere has been acknowledged in a foot-note, unless so familiar as to have become common property. Thus I have not thought it necessary to avow obvious obligations to Shakespeare, nor the " airy rings " of the vultures' flight, in the first chorus of the Agamemnon, to Jonson, nor the " sleep of swords " that fine rendering of the Homeric ^aX/ceo? VTTVOS, to Kingsley, nor the rhythm of one choric passage in The Libation-Bearers to Mr. W. Morris. Such things are public property now. Part of this translation, viz., the Agamemnon, having been already published, I have had, for that part, the ad- vantage of public criticism. I have carefully considered all such criticism, so far as it has reached me, and have removed, I hope, all positive errors that have been detected. Those critics who have complained rather of the general faults of the translation such, e.g., as diffuseuess, or a modern tone than of particular errors, will, I hope, believe my assurance that their words have been duly weighed. If I have not recast the translation to the extent their criticism demanded, it is neither from doubting its sub- stantial truth, nor the seriousness of the fault. But I am not sanguine, after various attempts, of my being able to translate in a closer and more pregnant style. It is not a question of how the thing could be done best, in the ab- stract ; it is, unfortunately, the more limited and painful question, how a particular individual can do it least im- perfectly. My main obligations, in the matter of ^Eschylus, are expressed in the dedication : in addition, I am indebted to the Rev. W. A. Fearon, Assistant Master of Winchester, for revising a large part of the Agamemnon ; to Mr. C. Kegan Paul for useful criticisms, mainly, though not wholly, on the same play; to Mr. A. 0. Prickard, Fellow and Lecturer of New College, Oxford, for incidental assistance throughout PREFACE. xxvif the work, particularly in The Libation -Bearers and The Furies ; to Mr. C. B. Phillips, Assistant Master of Win- chester, who has gone over the whole translation with care ; to Mr. D. S. Margoliouth, Fellow of New College, Oxford, who has helped me especially with several difficulties in TJie Furies. Other friends will, I doubt not, accept a general acknowledgment of their aid. I cannot, however, leave unspecified my gratitude to Mr. F. R. Benson and the rest of the Oxford company, who last year performed the Agamemnon on the stage, for the practical insight they afforded their audience into the spectacular as well as the literary and dramatic merit of that noblest of poems. E. D. A. M. WINCHESTER, March, 1881. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. In republishing the House of Atreus^ I have striven to remove the flaws to which private or public criticism called my attention. A grave mistranslation of Choeph., 1. 216, has, I hope, been banished. Mr. A. 0. Prickard and Professor Margoliouth independently detected and denounced it to me : I now plead, with Orestes 9ait wafra yg0W* opov. I may be permitted to add a statement of the general principle that I have followed in making alterations. Errors in scholarship I have endeavoured to remove : where the English has been criticized, I have always considered, and often obeyed, the criticism : sometimes I have resisted it in obedience to a higher law, e.g., several critics objected to the use of the word "spilth" ; I have retained it, as used by Shakespeare, and therefore fitted for tragic poetry, though no longer in ordinary use. With regard to the form of the translation, I have not made any serious change. Were I now attempting the thing for the first time, I should not throw so much of the first chorus of the Agamemnon into quatrains. But in this, as in other cases, that which was originally difficult to do has become almost impossible to undo and do again. The previous translation stands like an erring and prohibitory ghost, ' fJLtjKer' ea"e\6rj<; raSe' (frcavuv. E. D. A. M. WINCHESTER, October, 1889. CONTENTS. PAGE AGAMEMNON 1 THE LIBATION-BEARERS 79 THE FURIES . 135 THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLUS. DRAMATIS PERSONS. A WATCHMAN. CHORUS. CLYTEMNESTRA. A HERALD. AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. vEGISTHUS. The Scene is the Palace of Atreus at Mycena. In front of the Palace stand statues of the gods, and altars prepared for sacrifices. AGAMEMNON. A WATCHMAN. I pray the gods to quit me of my toils, To close the watch I keep, this livelong year ; For as a watch-dog lying, not at rest, Propped on one arm, upon the palace-roof Of Atreus' race, too long, too well I know The starry conclave of the midnight sky, Too well, the splendours of the firmament, The lords of light, whose kingly aspect signs What time they set or climb the sky in turn The year's divisions, bringing frost or fire. And now, as ever, am I set to mark When shall stream up the glow of signal-flame, The bale-fire bright, and tell its Trojan tale Troy tmvn is to? en : such issue holds in hope She in whose woman's breast beats heart of man. Thus upon mine unrestful couch I lie, Bathed with the dews of night, unvisited By dreams ah me ! for in the place of sleep Stands Fear as my familiar, and repels The soft repose that would mine eyelids seal. AGAMEMNON. And if at whiles, for the lost balm of sleep, I medicine my soul with melody Of trill or song anon to tears I turn, Wailing the woe that broods xipon this home, Not now by honour guided as of old. But now at last fair fall the welcome hour That sets me free, whene'er the thick night glow With beacon-fire of hope deferred no more. All hail ! [A beacon-light is seen reddening the distant sky. Fire of the night, that brings my spirit day, Shedding on Argos light, and dance, and song, Greetings to fortune, hail ! Let my loud summons ring within the ears Of Agamemnon's queen, that she anon Start from her couch and with a shrill voice cry A joyous welcome to the beacon-blaze, For Ilion's fall ; such fiery message gleams From yon high flame ; and I, before the rest, Will foot the lightsome measure of our joy ; For I can say, My master's dice fell fair Behold ! the triple sice, the lucky flame ! Now be my lot to clasp, in loyal love, The hand of him restored, who rules our home : Home but I say no more : \ipon my tongue Treads hard the ox o' the adage. Had it voice, The home itself might soothliest tell its tale ; I, of set will, speak words the wise may learn, To others, nought remember nor discern. [Exit. The chorus of old men of Mycence enter, each leaning on a staff. During their song Clytemnestra appears in the background, kindling the altars. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. Ten livelong years have rolled away, Since the twin lords of sceptred sway, By Zeus endowed with pride of place, The doughty chiefs of Atreus' race, Went forth of yore, To plead with Priam, face to face, Before the judgment-seat of War ! A thousand ships from Argive land Put forth to bear the martial band, That with a spirit stern and strong Went out to right the kingdom's wrong- Pealed, as they went, the battle-song, Wild as the vultures' cry ; . When o'er the eyrie, soaring high, In wild bereaved agony, Around, around, in airy rings, They wheel with oarage of their wings, But not the eyas-brood behold, That called them to the nest of old ; But let Apollo from the sky, Or Pan, or Zeus, but hear the cry, The exile cry, the wail forlorn, Of birds from whom their home is torn Ou those who wrought the rapine fell, Heaven sends the vengeful fiends of hell. Even so doth Zeus, the jealous lord And guardian of the hearth and board, Speed Atreus' sons, in vengeful ire, 'Gainst Paris sends them forth on fire, Her to buy back, in war and blood, Whom one did wed but many woo'd ! AGAMEMNON. And many, many, by his will, The last embrace of foes shall feel, And many a knee in dust be bowed, And splintered spears on shields ring loud, Of Trojan and of Greek, before That iron bridal-feast be o'er ! But as he willed 'tis ordered all, And woes, by heaven ordained, must fall Unsoothed by tears or spilth of wine Poured forth too late, the wrath divine Glares vengeance on the flameless shrine.* And we in gray dishonoured eld, Feeble of frame, unfit were held To join the warrior array, That then went forth unto the fray : And here at home we tarry, fain Our feeble footsteps to sustain, Each on his staff so strength doth wane, And turns to childishness again. For while the sap of youth is green, And, yet unripened, leaps within, The young are weakly as the old, And each alike unmeet to hold The vantage post of war ! And ah ! when flower and fruit are o'er, And on life's tree the leaves are sere, Age wendeth propped its journey drear, As forceless as a child, as light And fleeting as a dream of night Lost in the garish day ! "The flameless shrine" appears to be a metaphor for impious neglect of law : a ceremonial phrase with a moral import. AGAMEMNON. But thou, child of Tyndareus, Queen Clytemnestra, speak ! and say What messenger of joy to-day Hath won thine ear ? what welcome news, That thus in sacrificial wise E'en to the city's boundaries Thou biddest altar-fires arise ? Each god who doth our city guard, And keeps o'er Argos watch and ward From heaven above, from earth below The mighty lords who rule the skies, The market's lesser deities, To each and all the altars glow, Piled for the sacrifice ! And here and there, anear, afar, Streams skyward many a beacon-star, Conjur'd and charm'd and kindled well By pure oil's soft and guileless spell, Hid now no more Within the palace' secret store. queen, we pray thee, whatsoe'er, Known unto thee, were well revealed, That thou wilt trust it to our ear, And bid our anxious heart be healed ! That waneth now unto despair Now, waxing to a presage fair, Dawns from the altar Hope to scare From our rent hearts the vulture Care. List ! for the power is mine, to chant on high The chiefs' emprise, the strength that omens gave ! List ! on my soul breathes yet a harmony, From realms of ageless powers, and strong to save ! AGAMEMNON. How brother kings, twin lords of one command, Led forth the youth of Hellas in their flower, Urged on their way, with vengeful spear and brand, By warrior-birds, that watched the parting hour. Go forth to Troy, the eagles seemed to cry And the sea-kings obeyed the sky-kings' word, When on the right they soared across the sky, And one was black, one bore a white tail barred. High o'er the palace were they seen to soar, Then lit in sight of all, and rent and tare, Far from the fields that she should range no more, Big with her unborn brood, a mother-hare. And one beheld, the soldier-prophet true, And the two chiefs, unlike of soul and will, In the twy-coloured eagles straight he knew, And spake the omen forth, for good and ill. (Ah woe and well-a-day ! but be the issue fair !) Go forth, he cried, and Friends town shall fall. Yet long the time shall be ; and flock and herd, The peoples wealth, that roam before the wall, Shall force hew down, when Fate shall give the word. But O beware ! lest wrath in Heaven abide, To dim the glowing battle-forge once more, And mar the mighty curb of Trojan pride, The steel of vengeance, welded as for war! For virgin Artemis bears jealous hate Against the royal house, the eagle-pair, AGAMEMXON. Who rend the unborn brood, insatiate Yea, loathes their banquet on the quivering hare. (Ah woe and well-a-day ! but be the issue fair !) For well she lows the goddess kind and mild The tender new-born cubs of lions bold, Too weak to range and well the sucking child Of eatery beast that roams by wood and wold. So to the Lord of Heaven she prayetJi still " Nay, if it must be, be the omen true ! Yet do the visioned eagles presage ill ; The end be well, but crossed with evil too ! " Healer Apollo ! be her wrath controlled, Nor weave the long delay of thwarting gales, To war against the Danaans and withhold From the free ocean-waves their eager sails ! She craves, alas ! to see a second life Shed forth, a curst unhallowed sacrifice 'Twixt wedded souls, artificer of strife, And hate that knows not fear, and fell dei'ice. At home there tarries like a lurking snake, Biding its time, a wrath unreconciled, A wily watcher, passionate to slake In blood, resentment for a murdered child. Such was the mighty warning, pealed of yore Amid good tidings, such the word of fear, What time the fateful eagles hovered o'er The kings, and Calchas read the omen clear. AGAMEMXON (In strains like his, once more, Sing woe and well-a-day ! but be the issue fair !) Zeus if to The Unknown That name of many names seem good Zeus, upon Thee I call. Thro' the mind's every road I passed, but vain are all, Save that which names thee Zeus, the Highest One, Were it but mine to cast away the load, The weary load, that weighs my spirit down. He that was Lord of old, In full-blown pride of place and valour bold, Hath fallen and is gone, even as an old tale told ! And he that next held sway, By stronger grasp o'erthrown Hath pass'd away ! * And whoso now shall bid the triumph-chant arise To Zeus, and Zeus alone, He shall be found the truly wise. 'Tis Zeus alone who shows the perfect way Of knowledge : He hath ruled, Men shall learn wisdom, by affliction schooled. In visions of the night like dropping rain Descend the many memories of pain Before the spirit's sight : through tears and dole Comes wisdom o'er the unwilling soul A boon, I wot, of all Divinity, That holds its sacred throne in strength, above the sky ! And then the elder chief, at whose command The fleet of Greece was manned, * These are Ouranos and Kronos, predecessors of Zeus on the throne of heaven. AGAMEMNON. Cast on the seer no word of hate, But veered before the sudden breath of Fate Ah weary while ! for, ere they put forth sail, Did every store, each minish'd vessel, fail, While all the Achaean host At Aulis anchored lay, Looking across to Chalcis and the coast Where refluent waters welter, rock, and sway ; And rife with ill delay From northern Strymon blew the thwarting blast Mother of famine fell, That holds men wand'ring still Far from the haven where they fain would be ! And pitiless did waste Each ship and cable, rotting on the sea, And, doubling with delay each weary hour, Withered with hope deferred th' Achseans' warlike flower. But when for bitter storm a deadlier relief, And heavier with ill to either chief, Pleading the ire of Artemis, the seer avowed, The two Atridee smote their sceptres on the plain, And, striving hard, could not their tears restrain ! And then the elder monarch spake aloud /// lot were mine, to disobey ! And ill, to smite my child, my household 's love and pride. f To stain with virgin blood a father's hands, and slay My daughter, by the altar's side ! ' Twixt woe and woe I dwell / dare not like a recreant fly, And leave the league of ships, and fail each true ally ; for rightfully they crave, with eager fiery mind, The virgin's blood, shed forth to lull the adverse wind God send the deed be well ! AGAMEMNON. Thus on his neck he took Fate's hard compelling yoke ; Then, in the counter-gale of will abhorr'd, accursed, To recklessness his shifting spirit veered Alas ! that Frenzy, first of ills and worst, With evil craft men's souls to sin hath ever stirred ! And so he steeled his heart ah well-a-day Aiding a war for one false woman's sake, His child to slay, And with her spilt blood make An offering, to speed the ships upon their way ! Lusting for war, the bloody arbiters losed heart and ears, and would nor hear nor heed The girl-voice plead,. Pity me, Father ! nor her prayers, Nor tender, virgin years. And, when the chant of sacrifice was done, Her father bade the youthful priestly train Raise her, like some poor kid, above the altar-stone, From where amid her robes she lay Sunk all in swoon away Bade them, as with the bit that mutely tames the steed, Her fair lips' speech refrain, Lest she should speak a curse on Atreus' home and seed. So, trailing on the earth her robe of saffron dye, With one last piteous dart from her beseeching eye Those that should, smite she smote Fair, silent, as a pictur'd form, but fain AGAMEMNON. To plead Is all for got 1 Hmv oft those halls of old, Wherein my sire high feast did hold, Rang to the virginal soft strain, When I, a stainless child, Sang from pure lips and undefiled, Sang of my sire, and all His honoured life, and how on him should fall Heaven's highest gift and gain ! And then but I beheld not, nor can tell, What further fate befel : But this is sure, that Calchas' boding strain Can ne'er be void or vain. This wage from Justice' hand do sufferers earn, The future to discern : And yet farewell, secret of To-morrow ! Fore-knowledge is fore-sorrow. Clear with the clear beams of the morrow's sun, The future presseth on. Now, let the house's tale, how dark soe'er, Find yet an issue fair ! So prays the loyal, solitary band That guards the Apian laud. \They turn to Clytemnestra, who leaves the altars and comes forward. queen, I come in reverence of thy sway For, while the ruler's kingly seat is void, The loyal heart before his consort bends. Now be it sure and certain news of good, Or the fair tidings of a flatt'ring hope, That bids thee spread the light from shrine to shrine, I, fain to hear, yet grudge not if thou hide. AGAMEMNON. CLYTEMNESTRA. As saith the adage, From the womb of Night Spring forth, with promise fair, the young child Light. Ay fairer even than all hope my news By Grecian hands is Priam's city ta'en ! CHORUS. What say'st thou? doubtful heart makes treach'rous ear. CLYTEMNESTRA. Hear then again, and plainly Troy is ours ! CHORUS. Thrills thro' my heart such joy as wakens tears. CLYTEMNESTRA. Ay, thro' those tears thine eye looks loyalty. CHORUS. But hast thou proof, to make assurance sure ? CLYTEMNESTRA. Go to ; I have unless the god has lied. CHORUS. Hath some night-vision won thee to belief? CLYTEMNESTRA. Out on all presage of a slumb'rous soiil ! CHORUS. But wert thou cheered by Rumour's wingless word 1 AGAMEMNON. CLYTEMNESTRA. Peace thou dost chide me as a credulous girl. CHORUS. Say then, how long ago the city fell ? CLYTEMNESTRA. Even in this night that now brings forth the dawn. CHORUS. Yet who so swift could speed the message here ? CLYTEMXESTRA. From Ida's top Hephaestus, lord of fire, Sent forth his sign ; and on, and ever on, Beacon to beacon sped the courier-flame. From Ida to the crag, that Hermes loves, Of Lemnos ; thence unto the steep sublime Of Athos, throne of Zeus, the broad blaze flared. Thence, raised aloft to shoot across the sea, The moving light, rejoicing in its strength, Sped from the pyre of pine, and urged its way, In golden glory, like some strange new sun, Onward, and reached Macistus' watching heights. There, with no dull delay nor heedless sleep, The watcher sped the tidings on in tuni, Until the guard upon Messapius' peak Saw the far flame gleam on Euripus' tide, And from the high-piled heap of withered furze Lit the new sign and bade the message on. Then the strong light, far-flown and yet undimmed, Shot thro' the sky above Asopus' plain, Bright as the moon, and on Cithseron's crag Aroused another watch of flying fire. 16 AGAMEMNON. And there the sentinels no whit disowned, But sent redoubled on, the hest of flame Swift shot the light, above Gorgopis' bay, To ^Egiplanctus' mount ; and bade the peak Fail not the onward ordinance of fire. And like a long beard streaming in the wind, Full-fed with fuel, roared and rose the blaze, And onward flaring, gleamed above the cape, Beneath which shimmers the Saronic bay, And thence leapt light unto Arachne's peak, The mountain watch that looks upon our town. Thence to th' Atrides' roof in lineage fair, A bright posterity of Ida's fire. So sped from stage to stage, fulfilled in turn, Flame after flame, along the course ordained, And lo ! the last to speed upon its way Sights the end first, and glows unto the goal. And Troy is ta'en, and by this sign my lord Tells me the tale, and ye have learned my word. CHORUS. To heaven, queen, will I upraise new song : But wouldst thou speak once more, I fain would hear From first to last the marvel of the tale. CLYTEMNESTRA. Think you this very morn the Greeks in Troy, And loud therein the voice of utter wail ! Within one cup pour vinegar and oil, And look ! unblent, unreconciled, they war. So in the twofold issue of the strife Mingle the victor's shout, the captives' moan, AGAMEMNON. For all the conquered whom the sword has spared Cling weeping some unto a brother slain, Some childlike to a nursing father's form, And wail the loved and lost, the while their neck Bows down already 'neath the captive's chain. And lo ! the victors, now the fight is done, Goaded by restless hunger, far and wide Range all disordered thro' the town, to snatch Such victual and such rest as chance may give Within the captive halls that once were Troy Joyful to rid them of the frost and dew, Wherein they couched upon the plain of old Joyful to sleep the gracious night all through, Unsummoned of the watching sentinel. Yet let them reverence well the city's gods, The lords of Troy, tho' fallen, and her shrines ; So shall the spoilers not in turn be spoiled. Yea, let no craving for forbidden gain Bid conquerors yield before the darts of greed. For we need yet, before the race be won, Homewards, unharmed, to round the course once more. For should the host wax wanton ere it come, Then, tho' the sudden blow of fate be spared, Yet in the sight of gods shall rise once more The great wrong of the slain, to claim revenge. Now, hearing from this woman's mouth of mine, The tale and eke its warning, pray with me, Luck sway the scale, with no uncertain poise, For my fair hopes are changed to fairer joys. CHORUS. A gracious word thy woman's lips have told, Worthy a wise man's utterance, my queen ; AGAMEMNON. Now with clear trust in thy convincing tale I set me to salute the gods with song, Who bring us bliss to counterpoise our pain. [Exit Clytcmnestra. Zeus, lord of heaven ! and welcome night Of victory, that hast our might With all the glories crowned ! On towers of Ilion, free no more, Hast flung the mighty mesh of war, And closely girt them round, Till neither warrior may 'scape, Nor stripling lightly overleap The trammels as they close, and close, Till with the grip of doom our foes In slavery's coil are bound ! Zeus, lord of hospitality, In grateful awe I bend to thee 'Tis thou hast struck the blow ! At Alexander, long ago, We marked thee bend thy vengeful bow, But long and warily withhold The eager shaft, which, uncontrolled And loosed too soon or launched too high, Had wandered bloodless through the sky. Zeus the high God ! whate'er be dim in doubt, This can our thought track out The blow that fells the sinner is of God, And as he wills, the rod Of vengeance smiteth sore. One said of old, 77/i? Gods list not to hold A reckoning with him whose feet oppress The grace of holiness AGAMEMNON. An impious word ! for whensoe'er the sire Breathed forth rebellious fire What time his household overflowed the measure Of bliss and health and treasure His children's children read the reckoning plain, At last, in tears and pain. On me let weal that brings no woe be sent, And therewithal, content ; Who spurns the shrine of Right, nor wealth nor power Shall be to him a tower, To guard him from the gulf : there lies his lot, Where all things are forgot. Lust drives him on lust, desperate and wild, Fate's sin-contriving child And cure is none ; beyond concealment clear, Kindles sin's baleful glare. As an ill coin beneath the wearing touch Betrays by stain and smutch Its metal false such is the sinful wight. Before, on pinions light, Fair Pleasure flits, and lures him childlike on, While home and kin make moan Beneath the grinding burden of his crime ; Till, in the end of time, Cast down of heaven, he pours forth fruitless prayer To powers that will not hear. And such did Paris come Unto Atrides' home, And thence, -with sin and shame his welcome to repay, Ravished the wife away And she, unto her country and her kin Leaving the clash of shields and spears and arming ships, AGAMEMNON. And bearing unto Troy destruction for a dower, And overbold in sin, Went fleetly thro' the gates, at midnight hour. Oft from the prophets' lips Moaned out the warning and the wail Ah woe ! Woe for the home, the home ! and for the chieftains, woe ! Woe for the bride-bed, warm Yet from the lovely limbs, the impress of the form Of her who loved her lord, awhile ago ! And woe ! for him who stands Shamed, silent, unreproachful, stretching hands That finds her not, and sees, yet will not see, That she is far away ! And his sad fancy, yearning o'er the sea, Shall summon and recall Her wraith, once more to queen it in his hall. And sad with many memories, The fair cold beauty of each sculptured face And all to hatefulness is turned their grace, Seen blankly by forlorn and hungering eyes ! And when the night is deep, Come visions sweet and sad and bearing pain Of hopings vain Void, void and vain, for scarce the sleeping sight Has seen its old delight, When thro' the grasps of love that bid it stay It vanishes away On silent wings that roam adown the ways of sleep. Such are the sights, the sorrows fell, About our hearth and worse, whereof I may not tell. But, all the wide town o'er, Each home that sent its master far away From Hellas' shore, AGAMEMNON. Feels the keen thrill of heart, the pang of loss, to-day. For, truth to say, The touch of bitter death is manifold ! Familiar was each face, and dear as life, That went unto the war, But thither, whence a warrior went of old, Doth nought return, Only a spear and sword, and ashes in an urn ! For Ares, lord of strife, Who doth the swaying scales of battle hold, War's money-changer, giving dust for gold, Sends back, to hearts that held them dear, Scant ash of warriors, wept with many a tear, Light to the hand, but heavy to the soul ; Yea, fills the light urn full With what survived the flame Death's dusty measure of a hero's frame ! Alas ! one cries, and yet alas again ! Our chief is gone, the hero of the spear, And hath not left his peer ! Ah woe ! another moans my spouse is slain, The death of honour, rolled in dust and blood, Slain for a woman's sin, a false wife's shame / Such muttered words of bitter mood Rise against those who went forth to reclaim ; Yea, jealous wrath creeps on against th' Atrides' name. And others, far beneath the Ilian wall, Sleep their last sleep the goodly chiefs and tall, Couched in the foeman's land, whereon they gave Their breath, and lords of Troy, each in his Trojan grave. Therefore for each and all the city's breast Is heavy with a wrath supprest, AGAMEMNON. As deep and deadly as a curse more loud Flung by the common crowd : And, brooding deeply, doth my soul await Tidings of coming fate, Buried as yet in darkness' womb. For not forgetful is the high gods' doom Against the sons of carnage : all too long Seems the unjust to prosper and be strong, Till the dark Furies come, And smite with stern reversal all his home, Down into dim obstruction he is gone, And help and hope among the lost is none. O'er him who vaunteth an exceeding fame, Impends a woe condign ; The vengeful bolt upon his eyes doth flame, Sped from the hand divine. This bliss be mine, ungrudged of god, to feel To tread no city to the dust, Nor see my own life thrust Down to a slave's estate beneath another's heel Behold, throughout the city wide Have the swift feet of Rumour hied, Roused by the joyful flame : But is the news they scatter, sooth 1 Or haply do they give for truth Some cheat which heaven doth frame 1 A child were he and all unwise, Who let his heart with joy be stirred, To see the beacon-fires arise, And then, beneath some thwarting word, Sicken anon with hope deferred. AGAMEMNON. 23 The edge of woman's insight still Good news from true divideth ill ; Light rumours leap within the bound That fences female credence round, But, lightly born, as lightly dies The tale that springs of her surmise. Soon shall we know whereof the bale-fires tell, The beacons, kindled with transmitted flame ; Whether, as well I deem, their tale is true, Or whether like some dream delusive came The welcome blaze but to befool our soul. For lo ! I see a herald from the shore Draw hither, shadowed with the olive-wreath And thirsty dust, twin-brother of the clay, Speaks plain of travel far and truthful ne\vs No dumb surmise, nor tongue of flame in smoke, Fitfully kindled from the mountain pyre ; But plainlier shall his voice say All is well, Or but away forebodings adverse now, And on fair promise fair fulfilment come ! And whoso for the state prays otherwise, Himself reap harvest of his ill desire ! Enter HERALD. land of Argos, fatherland of mine ! To thee at last, beneath the tenth year's sun, My feet return ; the bark of my emprise, Tho' one by one hope's anchors broke away, Held by the last, and now rides safely here. Long, long my soul despaired to win, in death, Its longed-for rest within our Argive land : AGAMEMNON. And now all hail, earth, and hail to thee, New-risen sun ! and hail our country's God, High-ruling Zeus, and thou, the Pythian lord, Whose arrows smote us once smite thou no more ! Was not thy wrath wreaked full upon our heads, king Apollo, by Scamander's side ? Turn thou, be turned, be saviour, healer, now ! And hail, all gods who rule the street and mart, And Hermes hail ! my patron and my pride, Herald of heaven, and lord of heralds here ! And Heroes, ye who sped us on our way To one and all I cry Receive again With grace such Argives as the spear has spared. Ah home of royalty, beloved halls, And solemn shrines, and gods that front the morn ! Benign as erst, with sun-flushed aspect greet The king returning after many days. For as from night flash out the beams of day, So out of darkness dawns a light, a king, On you, on Argos Agamemnon comes. Then hail and greet him well ! such meed befits Him whose right hand hewed down the towers of Troy With the great axe of Zeus who righteth wrong And smote the plain, smote down to nothingness Each altar, every shrine ; and far and wide Dies from the whole land's face its offspring fair. Such mighty yoke of fate he set on Troy Our lord and monarch, Atreus' elder son, And comes at last with blissful honour home ; Highest of all who walk on earth to-day Not Paris nor the city's self that paid Sin's price with him, can boast Whatever befal, The guerdon we have won outweighs it all. AGAMEMNON. 25 But at Fate's judgment-seat the robber stands Condemned of rapine, and his prey is torn Forth from his hands, and by his deed is reaped A bloody harvest of his home and land Gone down to death, and for his guilt and lust His father's race pays double in the dust. CHORUS. Hail, herald of the Greeks, new-come from war. HERALD. All hail ! not death itself can fright me now. CHORUS. Was thine heart wrung with longing for thy land 1 HERALD. So that this joy doth brim mine eyes with tears. CHORUS. On you too then this sweet distress did fall HERALD. How say'st thou ? make me master of thy word. CHORUS. You longed for us who pined for you again. HERALD. Craved the land us who craved it, love for love ? 2 6 AGAMEMNON CHORUS. Yea, till my brooding heart moaned out with pain. HERALD. Whence thy despair, that mars the army's joy ? CHORUS. Sole cure of wrong is silence, saith the saw. HERALD. Thy kings afar, couldst thou fear other men 1 CHORUS. Death had been sweet, as thou didst say but now. HERALD. Tis true ; Fate smiles at last. Throughout our toil, These many years, some chances issued fair, And some, I wot, were chequered with a curse. But who, on earth, hath won the bliss of heaven, Thro' time's whole tenor an unbroken weal ? I could a tale unfold of toiling oars, 111 rest, scant landings on a shore rock-strewn, All pains, all sorrows, for our daily doom. And worse and hatefuller our woes on land ; For where we couched, close by the foeman's wall, The river-plain was ever dank with dews, Dropped from the sky, exuded from the earth, A curse that clung unto our sodden garb, And hair as horrent as a wild beast's fell. Why tell the woes of winter, when the birds Lay stark and stiff, so stern was Ida's snow ? Or summer's scorch, what time the stirless wave AGAMEMNON. Sank to its sleep beneath the noon-day sun? Why mourn old woes 1 their pain has passed away ; And passed away from those who fell all care, For evermore, to rise and live again. Why sum the count of death, and render thanks For life by moaning over fate malign ? Farewell, a long farewell to all our woes ! To us, the remnant of the host of Greece, Comes weal beyond all counterpoise of woe ; Thus boast we rightfully to yonder sun, Like him far-fleeted over sea and land. The Argive host prevailed to conquer Troy, And in the temples of the gods of Greece Hung up these spoils, a shining sign to Time. Let those who learn this legend bless aright The city and its chieftains, and repay The meed of gratitude to Zeus who willed And wrought the deed. So stands the tale fulfilled. CHORUS. Thy words o'erbear my doubt : for news of good, The ear of age hath ever youth enow : But those within and Clytemnestra's self Would fain hear all ; glad thou their ears and mine. Re-enter CLYTEMNESTRA. Last night, when first the fiery courier came, In sign that Troy is ta'en and razed to earth, So wild a cry of joy my lips gave out, That I was chidden Hath the beacon watch Made sure unto thy soul the sack of Troy ? A very woman thou, whose heart leaps light At wandering rumours ! and with words like these They showed me how I strayed, misled of hope. AGAMEMNON. Yet on each shrine I set the sacrifice, And, in the strain they held for feminine, Went heralds thro' the city, to and fro, With voice of loud proclaim, announcing joy ; And in each fane they lit and quenched with wine The spicy perfumes fading in the flame. All is fulfilled : I spare your longer tale The king himself anon shall tell me all. Remains to think what honour best may greet My lord, the majesty of Argos, home. What day beams fairer on a woman's eyes Than this, whereon she flings the portal wide, To hail her lord, heaven-shielded, home from war ? This to my husband, that he tarry not, But turn the city's longing into joy ! Yea, let him come, and coming may he find A wife no other than he left her, true And faithful as a watch-dog to his home, His foeinen's foe, in all her duties leal, Trusty to keep for ten long years unmarred The store whereon he set his master-seal. Be steel deep-dyed, before ye look to see 111 joy, ill fame, from other wight, in me ! * * This expression, intentionally obscure in the original, requires ex- planation for its full force to be seen. It is, literally, ' ' I know not pleasure, nor scandalous report, from another man, more than (I know) the dipping of bronze." This most naturally seems to imply, not a known process, such as dipping metal to temper or harden it (cf. Othello, Act v., Sc. 2: "It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper"), but some unknown or very difficult thing perhaps the dyeing of metal throughout Such, at least, is the meaning to the Herald, and through him, to Agamem- non. Meantime, as elsewhere in her speech, there is a "double entendre," ominous to the chorus, who seem vaguely to know of her unfaithfulness, and to the Athenian audience, acquainted with the whole story, of thrilling effectiveness. " I know no more of evil report with any other man, than I know of imbruing the steel." Before long she will stand forth with the AGAMEMNON. 29 HERALD. Tis fairly said : thus speaks a noble dame, Nor speaks amiss, when truth informs the boast. [Exit Clytemnestra. CHORUS. So has she spoken be it yours to learn By clear interpreters her specious word. Turn to me, herald tell me if anon The second well-loved lord of Argos comes ? Hath Menelaus safely sped with you ? HERALD. Alas brief boon unto my friends it were, To flatter them, for truth, with falsehoods fair ! CHORUS. Speak joy, if truth be joy, but truth, at worst Too plainly, truth and joy are here divorced. HERALD. The hero and his bark were rapt away Far from the Grecian fleet : 'tis truth I say. CHORUS. Whether in all men's sight from Ilion borne, Or from the fleet by stress of weather toni ? HERALD. Full on the mark thy shaft of speech doth light, And one short word hath told long woes aright. steel imbrued in her husband's blood, and vaunting aloud her love for ^Egisthus, her trusty paramour. 30 AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. But say, what now of him each comrade saith ? What their forebodings, of his life or death ? HERALD. Ask me no more : the truth is known to none, Save the earth-fostering, all-surveying Sun. CHORUS. Say, by what doom the fleet of Greece was driven ? How rose, how sank the storm, the wrath of heaven ? HERALD. Nay, ill it were to mar with sorrow's tale The day of blissful news. The gods demand Thanksgiving sundered from solicitude. If one as herald came with rueful face To say, The curse has fallen, and the host Gone down to death ; and one wide wound has reached The city's heart, and out of many homes Many are cast and consecrate to death, Beneath the double scourge, that Ares loves, The bloody pair, the fire and sword of doom If such sore burden weighed upon my tongue, 'Twere fit to speak such words as gladden fiends. But coming as he comes who bringeth news Of safe return from toil, and issues fair, To men rejoicing in a weal restored Dare I to dash good words with ill, and say How the gods' anger smote the Greeks in storm ? For fire and sea, that erst held bitter feud, Now swore conspiracy and pledged their faith, Wasting the Argives worn with toil and war. Night and great horror of the rising wave AGAMEMNON. Came o'er us, and the blasts that blow from Thrace Clashed ship with ship, and some with plunging prow Thro' scudding drifts of spray and raving storm Vanished, as strays by some ill shepherd driven. And when at length the sun rose bright, we saw Th' ^Egaean sea-field flecked with flowers of death, Corpses of Grecian men and shattered hulls. For us indeed, some god, as well I deem, No human power, laid hand upon our helm, Snatched us or prayed us from the powers of air, And brought our bark thro' all, unharmed in hull : And saving Fortune sat and steered us fair, So that no surge should gulf us deep in brine,* Nor grind our keel upon a rocky shore. So 'scaped we death that lurks beneath the sea, But, under day's white light, mistrustful all Of fortune's smile, we sat and brooded deep, Shepherds forlorn of thoughts that wandered wild, O'er this new woe ; for smitten was our host And lost as ashes scattered from the pyre. Of whom if any draw his life-breath yet, Be well assured, he deems of us as dead, As we of him no other fate forebode. But heaven save all ! If Menelaus live, He will not tarry but will surely come : Therefore if anywhere the high sun's ray Descries him upon earth, preserved by Zeus, Who wills not yet to wipe his race away, Hope still there is that homeward he may wend. Enough thou hast the truth unto the end. In Memoriam, x. "Than if with thee the roaring wells Should gulf him fathom-deep in brine." AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. Say, from whose lips the presage fell 1 Who read the future all too well, And named her, in her natal hour, Helen, the bride with war for dower 1 'Twas one of the Invisible, Guiding his tongue with prescient power. On fleet, and host, and citadel, War, sprung from her, and death did lour, When from the bride-bed's fine-spun veil She to the Zephyr spread her sail. Strong blew the breeze the surge closed o'er The cloven track of keel and oar, But while she fled, there drove along, Fast in her wake, a mighty throng Athirst for blood, athirst for war, Forward in fell pursuit they sprung, Then leapt on Simois' bank ashore, The leafy coppices among No rangers, they, of wood and field, But huntsmen of the sword and shield. Heaven's jealousy, that works its will, Sped thus on Troy its destined ill, Well named, at once, the Bride and Bane ; And loud rang out the bridal strain ; But they to whom that song befel Did turn anon to tears again ; Zeus tarries, but avenges still The husband's wrong, the household's stain ! He, the hearth's lord, brooks not to see Its outraged hospitality. AGAMEMNON. Even now, and in far other tone, Troy chants her dirge of mighty moan, Woe upon Paris, woe and hate ! Who wooed his country's doom for mate This is the burthen of the groan, Wherewith she wails disconsolate The blood, so many of her own Have poured in vain, to fend her fate ; Troy ! thou hast fed and freed to roam A lion-cub within thy home ! A suckling creature, newly ta'en From mother's teat, still fully fain Of nursing care ; and oft caressed, Within the arms, upon the breast, Even as an infant, has it lain ; Or fawns, and licks, by hunger pressed, The hand that will assuage its pain ; In life's young dawn, a well-loved guest, A fondling for the children's play, A joy unto the old and gray. But waxing time and growth betrays The blood-thirst of the lion-race, And for the house's fostering care, Unbidden all it revels there, And bloody recompense repays Rent flesh of kine, its talons tare : A mighty beast, that slays, and slays, And mars with blood the household fair, A God-sent pest invincible, A minister of fate and hell. Even so to Ilion's city came by stealth A spirit as of windless seas and skies, AGAMEMNON. A gentle phantom-form of joy and wealth, With love's soft arrows speeding from its eyes, Love's rose, whose thorn doth pierce the soul in subtle wise. Ah, well-a-day ! the bitter bridal-bed, When the fair mischief lay by Paris' side ! What curse on palace and on people sped With her, the Fury sent on Priam's pride, By angered Zeus ! what tears of many a widowed bride ! Long, long ago to mortals this was told, How sweet security and blissful state Have curses for their children so men hold And for the man of ail-too prosperous fate Springs from a bitter seed some woe insatiate. Alone, alone, I deem far otherwise ; Not bliss nor wealth it is, but impious deed, From which that after-growth of ill doth rise ! Woe springs from wrong, the plant is like the seed While Right, in honour's house, doth its own likeness breed. Some past impiety, some gray old crime, Breeds the young curse, that wantons in our ill, Early or late, when haps th' appointed time And out of light brings power of darkness still, A master-fiend, a foe, unseen, invincible ; A pride accursed, that broods upon the race And home in which dark Ate holds her sway Sin's child and Woe's, that wears its parents' face, While Right in smoky cribs shines clear as day, And decks with weal his life, who walks the righteous way. AGAMEMNON. 35 From gilded halls, that hands polluted raise, Right turns away with proud averted eyes, And of the wealth, men stamp amiss with praise, Heedless, to poorer, holier temples hies, And to Fate's goal guides all, in its appointed wise. Hail to thee, chief of Atreus' race, Returning proud from Troy subdued ! How shall I greet thy conquering face ? How nor a fulsome praise obtrude, Nor stint the meed of gratitude ? For mortal men who fall to ill Take little heed of open truth, But seek unto its semblance still : The show of weeping and of ruth To the forlorn will all men pay, But of the grief their eyes display, Nought to the heart doth pierce its way. And, with the joyous, they beguile Their lips unto a feigned smile, And force a joy, unfelt the while ; But he who as a shepherd wise Doth know his flock, can ne'er misread Truth in the falsehood of his eyes, Who veils beneath a kindly guise A lukewarm love in deed. And thou, our leader when of yore Thou badest Greece go forth to war For Helen's sake I dare avow That then I held thee not as now ; That to my vision thou didst seem Dyed in the hues of disesteem. I held thee for a pilot ill AGAMEMNON. And reckless of thy proper will Endowing others doomed to die With vain and forced audacity ! Now from my heart, ungrudgingly, To those that wrought, this word be said Well fall the labour ye have sped Let time and search, king, declare What men within thy city's bound Were loyal to the kingdom's care, And who were faithless found. \_Enter Agamemnon in a chariot, accompanied by Cassandra. He speaks without descending. AGAMEMNON. First, as is meet, a king's All-hail be said To Argos, and the gods that guard the land Gods who with me availed to speed us home, With me availed to wring from Priam's town The due of justice. In the court of heaven The gods in conclave sat and judged the cause, Not from a pleader's tongue, and at the close, Unanimous into the urn of doom This sentence gave, On Ilion and her men, Death : and where hope drew nigh to pardon's urn No hand there was to cast a vote therein. And still the smoke of fallen Ilion Rises in sight of all men, and the flame Of Ate's hecatomb is living yet, And where the towers in dusty ashes sink, Rise the rich fumes of pomp and wealth consumed. For this must all men pay unto the gods The meed of mindful hearts and gratitude : AGAMEMNON. 37 For by our hands the meshes of revenge Closed on the prey, and for one woman's sake Troy trodden by the Argive monster lies The foal, the shielded band that leapt the wall What time with autumn sank the Pleiades. Yea, o'er the fencing wall a lion sprang Ravening, and lapped his fill of blood of kings. Such prelude spoken to the gods in full, To you I turn, and to the hidden thing Whereof ye spake but now : and in that thought I am as you, and what ye say say I. For few are they who have such inborn grace, As to look up with love, and envy not, When stands another on the height of weaL Deep in his heart, whom jealousy hath seized, Her poison lurking doth enhance his load ; For now beneath his proper woes he chafes, And sighs withal to see another's weal. I speak not idly but from knowledge sure There be who vaunt an utter loyalty, That is but as the ghost of friendship dead, A shadow in a glass, of faith gone by. One only he who went reluctant forth Across the seas with me Odysseus he Was loyal unto me with strength and will, A trusty trace-horse bound unto my car. Thus be he yet beneath the light of day, Or dead, as well I fear-r-I speak his praise. Lastly, whate'er be due to men or gods, With joint debate, in public council held, We will decide, and warily contrive AGAMEMNON. That all which now is well may so abide : For that which haply needs the healer's art, That will we medicine, discerning well If cautery or knife befit the time. Now, to my palace and the shrines of home, I will pass in, and greet ye first and fair, Ye gods, who bade me forth, and home again And long may Victory tarry in my train ! \Enter Clytemnestra, followed by maidens bearing purple robes. CLYTEMNESTRA. Old men of Argos, lieges of our realm, Shame shall not bid me shrink lest ye should see The love I bear my lord. Such blushing fear Dies at the last from hearts of human kind. From mine own soul and from no alien lips, I know and will reveal the life I bore, Reluctant, through the lingering livelong yeai's, The while my lord beleaguered Ilion's wall. First that a wife sat sundered from her lord, In widowed solitude, was utter woe And woe, to hear how rumour's many tongues All boded evil woe, when he who came And he who followed spake of ill on ill, Keening Lost, lost, all lost ! thro' hall and bower. Had this my husband met so many wounds, As by a thousand channels rumour told, No network e'er was full of holes as he. Had he been slain, as oft as tidings came That he was dead, he Avell might boast him now A second Geryon of triple frame, AGAMEMNON. 39 With triple robe of earth above him laid For that below, no matter triply dead, Dead by one death for every form he bore. And thus distraught by news of wrath and woe, Oft for self-slaughter had I slung the noose, But others wrenched it from my neck away. Hence haps it that Orestes, thine and mine, The pledge and symbol of our wedded troth, Stands not beside us now, as he should stand. Nor marvel thou at this : he dwells with one Who guards him loyally ; 'tis Phocis' king, Strophius, who warned me erst, Bethink thee, queen, What woes of doubtful issue well may fall ! Thy lord in daily jeopardy at Troy, While here a populace uncurbed may cry " Down with the council, down ! " bethink thee too, 'Tis the world's way to set a harder heel On fallen power. For thy child's absence then Such mine excuse, no wily afterthought. For me, long since the gushing fount of tears Is wept away ; no drop is left to shed. Dim are the eyes that ever watched till dawn, Weeping the bale-fires, piled for thy return, Night after night unkindled. If I slept, Each sound the tiny humming of a gnat, Roused me again, again, from fitful dreams Wherein I felt thee smitten, saw thee slain, Thrice for each moment of mine hour of sleep. All this I bore, and now, released from woe, I hail my lord as watch-dog of a fold, As saving stay-rope of a storm-tossed ship, As column stout that holds the roof aloft, AGAMEMNON. As only child unto a sire bereaved, As land beheld, past hope, by crews forlorn, As sunshine fair when tempest's wrath is past, As gushing spring to thirsty wayfarer. So sweet it is to 'scape the press of pain. With such salute I bid my husband hail ! Nor heaven be wroth therewith ! for long and hard I bore that ire of old. Sweet lord, step forth, Step from thy car, I pray nay, not on earth Plant the proud foot, king, that trod down Troy ! Women ! why tarry ye, whose task it is To spread your monarch's path with tapestry ? Swift, swift, with purple strew his passage fair, That justice lead him to a home, at last, He scarcely looked to see. For what remains, Zeal unsubdued by sleep shall nerve my hand To work as right and as the gods command. AGAMEMNON. Daughter of Leda, watcher o'er my home, Thy greeting well befits mine absence long, For late and hardly has it reached its end. Know, that the praise which honour bids us crave, Must come from others' lips, not from our own : See too that not in fashion feminine Thou make a warrior's pathway delicate ; Not unto me, as to some Eastern lord, Bowing thyself to earth, make homage loud. Strew not this purple that shall make each step An arrogance ; such pomp beseems the gods, Not me. A mortal man to set his foot AGAMEMNON. On these rich dyes ? I hold such pride in fear, And bid thee honour me as man, not god. Fear not such footcloths and all gauds apart, Loud from the trump of Fame my name is blown : Best gift of heaven it is, in glory's hour, To think thereon with soberness : and thou Bethink thee of the adage, Call none blest Till peaceful death have croumed a life of weal. 'Tis said * : I fain would fare unvexed by fear. CLYTBMNESTRA. Nay, but unsay it thwart not thou my will ! AGAMEMNON. Know, I have said, and will not mar my word. CLYTBMNESTRA. Was it fear made this meekness to the gods ? AGAMEMNON. If cause be cause, 'tis mine for this resolve. CLYTEMNESTRA. What, think'st thou, in thy place had Priam done 1 AGAMEMNON. He surely would walked on broidered robes. CLYTEMNESTRA. Then fear not thou the voice of human blame. AGAMEMNON. Yet mighty is the murmur of a crowd. Reading "i^W rd&'" with Weil. AGAMEMNON. CLYTEMNESTRA. Shrink not from envy, appanage of bliss. AGAMEMNON. War is not woman's part, nor war of words. CLYTEMNESTRA. Yet happy victors well may yield therein. AGAMEMNON. Dost crave for triumph in this petty strife ? CLYTEMNESTRA. Yield ; of thy grace permit me to prevail ! AGAMEMNON. Then, if thou wilt, let some one stoop to loose Swiftly these sandals, slaves beneath my foot : And stepping thus upon the sea's rich dye, I pray, Let none among the gods look down With jealous eye on me reluctant all, To trample thus and mar a thing of price, Wasting the wealth of garments silver-worth. Enough hereof : and, for the stranger maid, Lead her within, but gently : God on high Looks graciously on him whom triumph's hour Has made not pitiless. None willingly Wears the slave's yoke and she, the prize and flower Of all we won, comes hither in my train, Gift of the army to its chief and lord. Now, since in this my will bows down to thine, I will pass in on purples to my home. AGAMEMNON. 43 CLYTEMNESTRA. A Sea there is and who shall stay its springs ? And deep within its breast, a mighty store, Precious as silver, of the purple dye, Whereby the dipped robe doth its tint renew. Enough of such, king, within thy halls There lies, a store that cannot fail ; but I I would have gladly vowed unto the gods Cost of a thousand garments trodden thus, (Had once the oracle such gift required) Contriving ransom for thy life preserved. For while the stock is firm the foliage climbs, Spreading a shade, what time the dog-star glows ; And thou, returning to thine hearth and home, Art as a genial warmth in winter hours, Or as a coolness, when the lord of heaven Mellows the juice within the bitter grape. Such boons and more doth bring into a home The present footstep of its proper lord. Zeus, Zeus, Fulfilment's lord ! my vows fulfil, And whatsoe'er it be, work forth thy will ! [Exeunt all but Cassandra and the Chorus. CHORUS. Wherefore for ever on the wings of fear Hovers a vision drear Before my boding heart ? a strain, Unbidden and unwelcome, thrills mine ear, Oracular of pain. Not as of old upon my bosom's throne Sits Confidence, to spurn AGAMEMNON. Such fears, like dreams we know not to discern. Old, old and gray long since the time has grown, Which saw the linked cables moor The fleet when erst it came to Ilion's sandy shore ; And now mine eyes and not another's see Their safe return. Yet none the less in me The inner spirit sings a boding song, Self-prompted, sings the Furies' strain And seeks, and seeks in vain, To hope and to be strong ! Ah ! to some end of Fate, unseen, unguessed, Are these wild throbbings of my heart and breast Yea, of some doom they tell Each pulse, a knell. Lief, lief I were, that all To unfulfilment's hidden realm might fall. Too far, too far our mortal spirits strive, Grasping at utter weal, unsatisfied Till the fell curse, that dwelleth hard beside, Thrust down the sundering wall. Too fair they blow, The gales that waft our bark on Fortune's tide ! Swiftly we sail, the sooner all to drive Upon the hidden rock, the reef of woe. Then if the hand of caution warily Sling forth into the sea Part of the freight, lest all should sink below, From the deep death it saves the bark : even so, Doom-laden though it be, once more may rise His household, who is timely wise. AGAMEMNON. 45 How oft the famine-stricken field Is saved by God's large gift, the new year's yield ! But blood of man once spilled, Once at his feet shed forth, and darkening the plain, Nor chant nor charm can call it back again. So Zeus hath willed : Else had he spared the leech Asclepius, skilled To bring man from the dead : the hand divine Did smite himself with death a warning and a sign. Ah me ! if Fate, ordained of old, Held not the will of gods constrained, controlled, Helpless to us-^vard, and apart Swifter than speech my heart Had poured its presage out ! Now, fretting, chafing in the dark of doubt, Tis hopeless to unfold Truth, from fear's tangled skein ; and, yearning to proclaim Its thought, my soul is prophecy and flame. Re-enter CLYTEMNESTRA. Get thee within thou too, Cassandra, go ! For Zeus to thee in gracious mercy grants To share the sprinklings of the lustral bowl, Beside the altar of his guardianship, Slave among many slaves. What, haughty still ? Step from the car ; Alcmena's son, 'tis said, Was sold perforce and bore the yoke of old. Ay, hard it is, but, if such fate befal, 'Tis a fair chance to serve within a home Of ancient wealth and power. An upstart lord, AGAMEMNON. To whom wealth's harvest came beyond his hope, Is as a lion to his slaves, in all Exceeding fierce, immoderate in sway. Pass in : thou hearest what our ways will be. CHORUS. Clear unto thee, maid, is her command, But thou within the toils of Fate thou art If such thy will, I urge thee to obey ; Yet I misdoubt thou dost nor hear nor heed. CLYTEMNESTRA. I wot unless like swallows she doth use Some strange barbarian tongue from oversea My words must speak persuasion to her soul. CHORUS. Obey : there is no gentler way than this. Step from the car's high seat and follow her. CLYTEMNESTRA. Truce to this bootless waiting here without ! I will not stay : beside the central shrine The victims stand, prepared for knife and fire Offerings from hearts beyond all hope made glad. Thou if thou reckest aught of my command, 'Twere well done soon : but if thy sense be shut From these my words, let thy barbarian hand Fulfil by gesture the default of speech. CHORUS. Xo native is she, thus to read thy words Unaided : like some wild thing of the wood, New-trapped, behold ! she shrinks and glares on thee. AGAMEMNON. 47 CLYTEMNESTRA. Tis madness and the rule of mind distraught, Since she beheld her city sink in fire, And hither comes, nor brooks the bit, until In foam and blood her wrath be champed away. See ye to her ; unqueenly 'tis for me, Unheeded thus to cast away my words. {Exit Clytemnestra. CHORUS. But with me pity sits in anger's place. Poor maiden, come thou from the car ; no way There is but this take up thy servitude. CASSANDRA. Woe, woe, alas ! Earth, Mother Earth ! and thou Apollo, Apollo ! CHORUS. Peace ! shriek not to the bright prophetic god, Who will not brook the suppliance of woe. CASSANDRA. Woe, woe, alas ! Earth, Mother Earth ! and thou Apollo, Apollo ! CHORUS. Hark, with wild curse she calls anew on him, Who stands far off and loathes the voice of wail CASSANDRA. Apollo, Apollo ! God of all ways, but only Death's to me, AGAMEMNON. Once and again, thou, Destroyer named, Thou hast destroyed me, thou, my love of old ! * * The cries of Cassandra need special explanation. Apollo, the god who had endowed her with prophetic power, and then, angered by her rejection of his suit, caused her prophecy to be disbelieved was called ayvtar*)?, i-f-, god of streets or ways ; and it was usual to erect a rough statue to him at particular points of a road. No doubt such a statue was to be seen in front of the palace of Atreus. Apollo also, as a name, is, or at any rate closely resembles, the Greek word for ' ' Destroyer " (familiar to readers of "Pilgrim's Progress" as Apollyon). It will be seen therefore how much method is in the madness of Cassandra. She sees the statue of Apollo the way-god, and cries aloud of the weary way he has sent her to her doom, himself the Destroyer first of her fame, and now of her life. Her death, and that of Agamemnon, are actually present to her vision, though in confused forms ; and the ancient ills of the house of Atreus, her own happy childhood, the recent fall of Troy, the spectres of Thyestes' children, the vengeful god tearing from her the prophetic robe, the fate of Clytemnestra herself in after days all pass before her; then, with a piteous cry of utter pathos over the state of mortal men, she goes within the palace, to confront her foreseen doom. The office of a translator, never a very hopeful one, becomes despair itself in the endeavour to reproduce this scene. The ravings of Lear have not its terror, nor those of Ophelia or Gretchen its pathos. The language has put away the besetting sin of /Eschylus' earlier dramas a certain grandiose and stilted character : here it is alternately wild with the actual inspiration of prophecy, and piteous with the sense of weakness, of the inevitable doom, of the l^Oia-Ti) oSi/nn, TroXXa (p^oveovra, ^rj^'vo? z.qa.Tnm " the worst of agonies, to know and yet to avail nought." The cadence is sometimes one long sigh, iu #OTEt TT^ay^ar'' evTv^ovorai f*i crma. T? a,v JT^-^SHV. sometimes a voice broken with thick sobs, v yt(> o Oeof, yhvxim r' a-luva, K\a.v^a,Tuv a.rt^ sometimes strong and queenly with pride and scorn, aunt Siwovi; heotwat, a-vyv.<np.up*vvi \VKU, *OI/TO? tvyivoiis a-irova-'ia. sometimes frantic with hysterical terror, ogaTS roi/crSf, Toy? Sopon; i novs, outrun 9Toc-<piiK AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. She grows presageful of her woes to come, Slave tho' she be, instinct with prophecy. CASSANDRA. Apollo, Apollo ! God of all ways, but only Death's to me, O thou Apollo, thou Destroyer named ! What way hast led me, to what evil home ? CHORUS. Know'st thou it not ? The home of Atreus' race : Take these my words for sooth and ask no more. CASSANDRA. Home cursed of God ! Bear witness unto me, Ye visioned woes within The blood-stained hands of them that smite their kin The strangling noose, and, spattered o'er With human blood, the reeking floor ! CHORUS. How like a sleuth-hound questing on the track, Keen-scented unto blood and death she hies ! lastly, grave with the pathos of confronted death, T ^>JT* iyu X.O.TOUIOS u$' a.vxff'Tim', ITTli TO TT^UTCiH JW . IXlOV TTOXm Teoa.^a.aa.1 u<; iTr^ot^it' ol' ' iip^ov TroXif ovru<; aTra^ac-croucm it Qtu xgiau. Here, therefore, the translator may be allowed to fall back upon the humbler task of telling the reader what is to be found in the original, before endeavouring to call up its ghost in English. IloXAa QfotiotTa. (jLvbtvoi; x.^aTiw, is not a bad account of the process of translation, and nowhere more applicable than here. E 5 o AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. Ah ! can the ghostly guidance fail, Whereby my prophet-soul is onwards led 1 Look ! for their flesh the spectre-children wail, Their sodden limbs on which their father fed ! CHORUS. Long since we knew of thy prophetic fame, But for those deeds we seek no prophet's tongue. CASSANDRA. God ! 'tis another crime Worse than the storied woe of olden time, Cureless, abhorred, that one is plotting here A shaming death, for those that should be dear ! Alas ! and far away in foreign land He that should help doth stand ! CHORUS. I knew th' old tales, the city rings withal But now thy speech is dark beyond my ken. CASSANDRA. wretch, purpose fell ! Thou for thy wedded lord The cleansing wave hast poured A treacherous welcome ! How the sequel tell 1 Too soon 'twill come, too soon, for now, even now, She smites him, blow on blow ! CHORUS. Riddles beyond my rede I peer in vain Thro' the dim films that screen the prophecy. AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. God ! a new sight ! a net, a snare of hell, Set by her hand herself a snare more fell ! A wedded wife, she slays her lord, Helped by another hand ! Ye powers, whose hate Of Atreus' home no blood can satiate, Raise the wild cry above the sacrifice abhorred ! CHORUS. Why biddest thou some fiend, I know not whom, Shriek o'er the house ? Thine is no cheering word. Back to my heart in frozen fear I feel My wanning life-blood run The blood that round the wounding steel Ebbs slow as sinks life's parting sun Swift, swift and sure, some woe comes pressing on ! CASSANDRA. Away, away keep him away The monarch of the herd, the pasture's pride, Far from his mate ! In treach'rous wrath, Muffling his swarthy horns, with secret scathe She gores his fenceless side ! Hark ! in the brimming bath, The heavy plash the dying cry Hark in the laver hark, he falls by treachery ! CHORUS. I read amiss dark sayings such as thine, Yet something warns me that they tell of ill. dark prophetic speech, 111 tidings dost thou teach AGAMEMNON. Ever, to mortals here below ! Ever some tale of awe and woe Thro' all thy windings manifold Do we unriddle and unfold ! CASSANDRA. Ah well-a-day ! the cup of agony, Whereof I chant, foams with a draught for me. Ah lord, ah leader, thou hast led me here Was't but to die with thee whose doom is near? CHORUS. Distraught thou art, divinely stirred, And wailest for thyself a tuneless lay, As piteous as the ceaseless tale Wherewith the brown melodious bird Doth ever Itys ! Itys ! wail, Deep-bowered in sorrow, all its little life-time's day ! CASSANDRA. Ah for thy fate, O shrill-voiced nightingale ! Some solace for thy woes did Heaven afford, Clothed thee with soft brown plumes, and life apart from wail But for my death is edged the double-biting sword ! CHORUS. What pangs are these, what fruitless pain, Sent on thee from on high ? Thou chantest terror's frantic strain, Yet in shrill measured melody. How thus unerring canst thou sweep along The prophet's path of boding song ? AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. Woe, Paris, woe on thee ! thy bridal joy Was death and fire upon thy race and Troy ! And woe for thee, Scamander's flood ! Beside thy banks, river fair, I grew in tender nursing care From childhood unto maidenhood ! Now not by thine, but by Cocytus' stream And Acheron's banks shall ring my boding scream. CHORUS. Too plain is all, too plain ! A child might read aright thy fateful strain. Deep in my heart their piercing fang Terror and sorrow set, the while I heard That piteous, low, tender word, Yet to mine ear and heart a crushing pang. CASSANDRA. Woe for my city, woe for Ilion's fall ! Father, how oft with sanguine stain Streamed on thine altar-stone the blood of cattle, slain That heaven might guard our wall ! But all was shed in vain. Low lie the shattered towers whereas they fell, And I ah burning heart! shall soon lie low as well. CHORUS. Of sorrow is thy song, of sorrow still ! Alas, what power of ill Sits heavy on thy heart and bids thee tell In tears of perfect moan thy deadly tale 1 Some woe I know not what must close thy piteous wail. AGAMEMNON. CASSANDRA. List ! for no more the presage of my soul, Bride-like, shall peer from its secluding veil ; But as the morning wind blows clear the east, More bright shall blow the wind of prophecy, And as against the low bright line of dawn Heaves high and higher yet the rolling wave, So in the clearing skies of prescience Dawns on my soul a further, deadlier woe, And I will speak, but in dark speech no more. Bear witness, ye, and follow at my side I scent the trail of blood, shed long ago. Within this house a choir abidingly Chants in harsh unison the chant of ill ; Yea, and they drink, for more enhardened joy, Man's blood for wine, and revel in the halls, Departing never, Furies of the home. They sit within, they chant the primal curse, Each spitting hatred on that crime of old, The brother's couch, the love incestuous That brought forth hatred to the ravisher. Say, is my speech or wild and erring now, Or doth its arrow cleave the mark indeed ? They called me once, The prophetess of lies, The wandering hag, the pest of every door Attest ye now, She knows in very sooth The house's curse, the storied infamy. CHORUS. Yet how should oath how loyally soe'er I swear it aught avail thee ? In good sooth, My wonder meets thy claim : I stand amazed AGAMEMNON. 55 That thou, a maiden born beyond the seas, Dost as a native know and tell aright Tales of a city of an alien tongue. CASSANDRA. That is my power a boon Apollo gave. CHORUS. God though he were, yearning for mortal maid 1 CASSANDRA. Ay ! what seemed shame of old is shame no more. CHORUS. Such finer sense suits not with slavery. CASSANDRA. He strove to win me, panting for my love. CHORUS. Came ye by compact unto bridal joys 1 CASSANDRA. Nay for I plighted troth, then foiled the god. CHORUS. Wert thou already dowered with prescience ? CASSANDRA. Yea prophetess to Troy of all her doom. CHORUS. How left thee then Apollo's wrath unscathed ? CASSANDRA. I, false to him, seemed prophet false to all. 5 6 AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. Not so to us at least thy words seem sooth. CASSANDRA. Woe for me, woe ! Again the agony Dread pain that sees the future all too well With ghastly preludes whirls and racks my soul. Behold ye yonder on the palace roof The spectre-children sitting look, such things As dreams are made of, phantoms as of babes, Horrible shadows, that a kinsman's hand Hath marked with murder, and their arms are full- A rueful burden see, they hold them up, The entrails upon which their father fed ! For this, for this, I say there plots revenge A coward lion, couching in the lair Guarding the gate against my master's foot My master mine I bear the slave's yoke now. And he, the lord of ships, who trod down Troy, Knows not the fawning treachery of tongue Of this thing false and dog-like how her speech Glozes and sleeks her purpose, till she win By ill fate's favour the desired chance, Moving like Ate to a secret end. aweless soul ! the woman slays her lord Woman ? what loathsome monster of the earth Were fit comparison ? The double snake Or Scylla, where she dwells, the seaman's bane, Girt round about with rocks ? some hag of hell, Raving a truceless curse upon her kin ? Hark even now she cries exultingly The vengeful cry that tells of battle turned How fain, forsooth, to greet her chief restored ! A GA MEMNON. 57 Nay then, believe me not : what skills belief Or disbelief? Fate works its will and thou Wilt see and say in ruth Her tale was true. CHORUS. Ah 'tis Thyestes' feast on kindred flesh I guess her meaning and with horror thrill, Hearing no shadow'd hint of th' o'er-true tale, But its full hate fulness : yet, for the rest, Far from the track I roam, and know no more. CASSANDRA. Tis Agamemnon's doom thou shalt behold. CHORUS. Peace, hapless woman, to thy boding words. CASSANDRA. Far from my speech stands he who sains and saves. CHORUS. Ay were such doom at hand which God forbid ! CASSANDRA. Thou prayest idly these move swift to slay. CHORUS. What man prepares a deed of such despite ? CASSANDRA. Fool ! thus to read amiss mine oracles. CHORUS. Deviser and device are dark to me. CASSANDRA. Dark ! all too well I speak the Grecian tongue. 5 8 AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. Ay but in thine, as in Apollo's strains, Familiar is the tongue, but dark the thought. CASSANDRA. Ah ah the fire ! it waxes, nears me now Woe, woe for me, Apollo of the dawn ! Lo, how the woman-thing, the lioness Couched with the wolf her noble mate afar Will slay me, slave forlorn ! Yea, like some witch, She drugs the cup of wrath, that slays her lord, With double death his recompense for me ! Ay, 'tis for me, the prey he bore from Troy, That she hath sworn his death, and edged the steel ! Ye wands, ye wreaths that cling around my neck, Ye showed me prophetess yet scorned of all I stamp you into death, or e'er I die Down, to destruction ! Thus I stand revenged Go, crown some other with a prophet's woe. Look ! it is he, it is Apollo's self Rending from me the prophet-robe he gave. God ! while I wore it yet, thou saw'st me mocked There at my home by each malicious mouth To all and each, an undivided scorn. The name alike and fate of witch and cheat Woe, poverty, and famine all I bore ;* * Though the resemblance is probably accidental, it is impossible not to be reminded of this passage by the last farewell of Meg Merrilies (Guy Mannering, ch. 55) "When I was in life, I was the mad randy gipsy, that had been scourged, and banished, and branded that had begged from door to door, and been hounded like a stray tike from parish to parish wha would hae minded her tale? But now I am a dying woman, and my words will not fall to the ground, any more than the earth will cover my blood ! " AGAMEMNON. 59 And at this last the god hath brought me here Into death's toils, and what his love had made, His hate unmakes me now : and I shall stand Not now before the altar of my home, But me a slaughter-house and block of blood Shall see hewn down, a reeking sacrifice. Yet shall the gods have heed of me who die, For by their will shall one requite my doom. He, to avenge his father's blood outpoured, Shall smite and slay with matricidal hand. Ay, he shall come tho' far away he roam, A banished wanderer in a stranger's land To crown his kindred's edifice of ill, Called home to vengeance by his father's fall : Thus have the high gods sworn, and shall fulfil. And now why mourn I, tarrying on earth, Since first mine Ilion has found its fate And I beheld, and those who won the wall Pass to such issue as the gods ordain ? I too will pass and like them dare to die ! [ Turns and looks upon the palace door. Portal of Hades, thus I bid thee hail ! Grant me one boon a swift and mortal stroke, That all unwrung by pain, with ebbing blood Shed forth in quiet death, I close mine eyes. CHORUS. Maid of mysterious woes, mysterious lore, Long was thy prophecy : but if aright Thou readest all thy fate, how thus unscared Dost thou approach the altar of thy doom, As fronts the knife some victim, heaven-controlled 1 CASSANDRA. Friends, there is no avoidance in delay. 60 AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. Yet who delays the longest, his the gain. CASSANDRA. The day is come flight were small gain to me ! CHORUS. brave endurance of a soul resolved ! CASSANDRA. That were ill praise, for those of happier doom. CHORUS. All fame is happy, even famous death. CASSANDRA. Ah sire, ah brethren, famous once were ye ! [Sfte moves to enter the house, then starts back. CHORUS. What fear is this that scares thee from the house ? CASSANDRA. Pah! CHORUS. What is this cry? some dark despair of soul? CASSANDRA. Pah ! the house fumes with stench and spilth of blood. CHORUS. How ? 'tis the smell of household offerings. CASSANDRA. 'Tis rank as charnel-scent from open graves. AGAMEMNON. CHORUS. Thou canst not mean this scented Syrian nard ? * CASSANDRA. Nay, let me pass within to cry aloud The monarch's fate and mine enough of life. Ah friends ! Bear to me witness, since I fall in death, That not as birds that shun the bush and scream f I moan in idle terror. This attest When for my death's revenge another dies, A woman for a woman, and a man Falls, for a man ill-wedded to his curse. Grant me this boon the last before I die. CHORUS. Brave to the last ! I mourn thy doom foreseen. CASSANDRA. Once more one utterance but not of wail, Though for my death and then I speak no more. Sun ! thou whose beam I shall not see again, To thee I cry, Let those whom vengeance calls To slay their kindred's slayers, quit withal The death of me, the slave, the fenceless prey. \ * The Syrian scent, to which the Chorus attribute Cassandra's disgust (which is in reality the quickened and prophetic fore-sense of blood soon to be shed), is either from some perfume burning on the altars within, or possibly, as has been suggested to me, the scent of perfumed cedar boxes, in which the bright purples strewn upon the path have been preserved. t " Birds that shun the bush," i.e. birds that have been limed in a bush. cf. Henry VI, Part iii., Act v., Sc. 6: " The bird that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush. " % I have adopted here the conjectural emendations of Dr. Kennedy. AGAMEMNON. Ah state of mortal man ! in time of weal, A line, a shadow ! and if ill fate fall, One wet sponge-sweep wipes all our trace away And this I deem less piteous, of the twain. \Exit into the palace. CHORUS. Too true it is ! our mortal state With bliss is never satiate, And none before the palace high And stately of prosperity Cries to us with a voice of fear Away ! '/is ill to enter here ! Lo ! this our lord hath trodden down, By grace of heaven, old Priam's town, And praised as god he stands once more On Argos' shore ! Yet now if blood shed long ago Cries out that other blood shall flow, His life-blood, his, to pay again The stern requital of the slain Peace to that braggart's vaunting vain, Who, having heard the chieftain's tale, Yet boasts of bliss untouched by bale ! \A loud cry from within. VOICE OF AGAMEMNON. I am sped a deep, a mortal blow. CHORUS. Listen, listen ! who is screaming as in mortal agony ? VOICE OF AGAMEMNON. ! ! again, another, another blow ! AGAMEMNON. 63 CHORUS. The bloody act is over I have heard the monarch's cry Let us swiftly take some counsel, lest we too be doomed to die. ONE OF THE CHORUS. 'Tis best, I judge, aloud for aid to call, " Ho ! loyal Argives ! to the palace, all !" ANOTHER. Better, I deem, ourselves to bear the aid, And drag the deed to light, while drips the blade. ANOTHER. Such will is mine, and what thou say'st I say : Swiftly to act ! the time brooks no delay. ANOTHER. Ay, for 'tis plain, this prelude of their song Foretells its close in tyranny and wrong. ANOTHER. Behold, we tarry but thy name, Delay, They spurn, and press with sleepless hand to slay. ANOTHER. I know not what 'twere well to counsel now Who wills to act, 'tis his to counsel how. ANOTHER. Thy doubt is mine : for when a man is slain, I have no words to bring his life again. ANOTHER. What ? e'en for life's sake, bow us to obey These house-defilers and their tyrant sway ? AGAMEMNON. ANOTHER. Unmanly doom ! 'twere better fat to die Death is a gentler lord than tyranny. ANOTHER. Think well must cry or sign of woe or pain Fix our conclusion that the chief is slain ? ANOTHER. Such talk befits us when the deed we see Conjecture dwells afar from certainty. LEADER OF THE CHORUS. I read one will from many a diverse word, To know aright, how stands it with our lord ! [The scene opens, disclosing Clyiemnestra, who conies forward. The body of Agamemnon lies, muffled in a long robe, within a silver-sided laver ; the corpse of Cassandra is laid beside him. CLYTEMNESTRA. Ho, ye who heard me speak so long and oft The glozing word that led me to my will Hear how I shrink not to unsay it all ! How else should one who willeth to requite Evil for evil to an enemy Disguised as friend, weave the mesh straitly round him, Not to be overleaped, a net of doom. This is the sum and issue of old strife Of me deep-pondered and at length fulfilled. All is avowed, and as I smote I stand With foot set firm iipon a finished thing ! AGAMEMNON. 65 I turn not to denial : thus I wrought So that he coulH. nor flee nor ward his doom. Even as the trammel hems the scaly shoal, I trapped him with inextricable toils, The ill abundance of a baffling robe ; Then smote him, once, again and at each wound He cried aloud, then as in death relaxed Each limb and sank to earth ; and as he lay, Once more I smote him, with the last third blow, Sacred to Hades, saviour of the dead. And thus he fell, and as he passed away, Spirit with body chafed ; each dying breath Flung from his breast swift bubbling jets of gore, And the dark sprinklings of the rain of blood Eell upon me ; and I was fain to feel That dew not sweeter is the rain of heaven To cornland, when the green sheath teems with grain. Elders of Argos since the thing stands so, I bid ye to rejoice, if such your will : Rejoice or not, I vaunt and praise the deed, And well I ween, if seemly it could be, 'Twere not ill done to pour libations here, Justly ay, more than justly on his corpse Who filled his home with curses as with wine, And thus returned to drain the cup he filled. CHORUS. I marvel at thy tongue's audacity, To vaunt thus loudly o'er a husband slain. CLYTEMNESTRA. Ye hold me as a woman, weak of will, And strive to sway me : but my heart is stout, Nor fears to speak its uttermost to you, F AGAMEMNON. Albeit ye know its message. Praise or blame, Even as ye list, I reck not of your words. Lo ! at my feet lies Agamemnon slain, My husband once and him this hand of mine, A right contriver, fashioned for his death. Behold the deed ! CHORUS. Woman, what deadly birth, What venomed essence of the earth Or dark distilment of the wave, To thee such passion gave, Nerving thine hand To set upon thy brow this burning crown, The curses of thy land 1 Our king by thte cut off, hewn down ! Go forth they cry accursed and forlorn, To hate and scorn ! CLYTEMXESTRA. O ye just men, who speak my sentence now, The city's hate, the ban of all my realm ! Ye had no voice of old to launch such doom On him, my husband, when he held as light My daughter's life as that of sheep or goat, One victim from the thronging fleecy fold ! Yea, slew in sacrifice his child and mine, The well-loved issue of my travail-pangs, To lull and lay the gales that blew from Thrace. That deed of his I say, that stain and shame, Had rightly been atoned by banishment ; But ye, who then were dumb, are stern to judge This deed of mine that doth affront your ears. Storm out your threats, yet knowing this for sooth, AGAMEMNON. 67 That I am ready, if your hand prevail As mine now doth, to bow beneath your sway : If God say nay, it shall be yours to learn By chastisement a late humility. CHORUS. Bold is thy craft, and proud Thy confidence, thy vaunting loud ; Thy soul, that chose a murd'ress' fate, Is all with blood elate Maddened to know The blood not yet avenged, the damned spot Crimson upon thy brow. But Fate prepares for thee thy lot Smitten as thou didst smite, without a friend, To meet thine end ! CLYTEMNESTRA. Hear then the sanction of the oath I swear By the great vengeance for my murdered child, By Ate, by the Fury unto whom This man lies sacrificed by hand of mine, I do not look to tread the hall of Fear, While in this hearth and home of mine there burns The light of love /Egisthus as of old Loyal, a stalwart shield of confidence As true to me as this slain man was false, Wronging his wife with paramours at Troy, Fresh from the kiss of each Chryseis there ! Behold him dead behold his captive prize, Seeress and harlot comfort of his bed, True prophetess, true paramour I wot The sea-bench was not closer to the flesh, Full oft, of every rower, than was she. AGAMEMNON. See, ill they did, and ill requites them now. His death ye know : she as a dying swan Sang her last dirge, and lies, as erst she lay, Close to his side, and to my couch has left A sweet new taste of joys that know no fear. CHORUS. Ah woe and well-a-day! I would that Fate Not bearing agony too great, Nor stretching me too long on couch of pain Would bid mine eyelids keep The morningless and unawakening sleep ! * For life is weary, now my lord is slain, The gracious among kings ! Hard fate of old he bore and many grievous things, And for a woman's sake, on Ilian land Now is his life hewn down, and by a woman's hand. Helen, infatuate soul, Who bad'st the tides of battle roll, Overwhelming thousands, life on life, 'Neath Ilion's wall ! And now lies dead the lord of all. The blossom of thy storied sin Bears blood's inexpiable stain, thou that erst, these halls within, Wert unto all a rock of strife, A husband's bane ! CLYTEMNESTRA. Peace ! pray not thou for death as though * " For there thine earth-forgetting eyelids keep The morningless and unawakening sleep." M. ARNOLD, Thyrsis. AGAMEMNON. Thine heart was whelmed beneath this woe, Nor turn thy wrath aside to ban The name of Helen, nor recall How she, one bane of many a man, Sent down to death the Danaan lords, To sleep at Troy the sleep of swords, And wrought the woe that shattered all. CHORUS. Fiend of the race ! that swoopest fell Upon the double stock of Tantalus, Lording it o'er me by a woman's will, Stern, manful, and imperious A bitter sway to me ! Thy very form I see, Like some grim raven, perched upon the slain, Exulting o'er the crime aloud in tuneless strain ! CLYTEJINESTRA. Right was that word thou namest well The brooding race-fiend, triply fell ! From him it is that murder's thirst, Blood-lapping, inwardly is nursed Ere time the ancient scar can sain, New blood comes welling forth again. CHORUS. Grim is his wrath and heavy on our home, That fiend of whom thy voice has cried Alas, an omened cry of woe unsatisfied, An all-devouring doom. Ah woe, ah Zeus ! from Zeus all things befall Zeus the high cause and finisher of all ! AGAMEMNON. Lord of our mortal state, by him are willed All things, by him fulfilled ! Yet ah my king, my king no more ! What words to say, what tears to pour Can tell my love for thee ? The spider-web of treachery She wove and wound, thy life around, And lo ! I see thee lie, And thro' a coward, impious wound Pant forth thy life and die ! A death of shame ah woe on woe ! A treach'rous hand, a cleaving blow ! CLYTEMNESTRA. My guilt thou harpest, o'er and o'er ! I bid thee reckon me no more As Agamemnon's spouse. The old Avenger, stern of mood For Atreus and his feast of blood, Hath struck the lord of Atreus' house, And in the semblance of his wife The king hath slain. Yea, for the murdered children's life, A chieftain's in requital ta'en. CHORUS. Thou guiltless of this murder, thou ! Who dares such thought avow ? Yet it may be, wroth for the parent's deed, The fiend hath holpen thee to slay the son. Dark Ares, god of death, is pressing on Thro' streams of blood by kindred shed, Exacting the accompt for children dead, For clotted blood, for flesh on which their sire did feed. AGAMEMNON. Yet ah my king, my king no more ! What words to say, what tears to pour Can tell my love for thee 1 The spider-web of treachery She wove and wound, thy life around, And lo ! I see thee lie, And thro' a coward, impious wound Pant forth thy life and die ! A death of shame ah w r oe on woe ! A treach'rous hand, a cleaving blow ! ' CLYTEMNESTRA. I deem not that the death he died Had overmuch of shame : For this was he who did provide Foul wrong unto his house and name : His daughter, blossom of my womb, He gave unto a deadly doom, Iphigenia, child of tears. And as he wrought, even so he fares. Nor be his vaunt too loud in hell ; For by the sword his sin he wrought, And by the sword himself is brought Among the dead to dwell. CHORUS. Ah whither shall I fly? For all in ruin sinks the kingly hall ; Nor swift device nor shift of thought have I, To 'scape its fall. A little while the gentler rain-drops fail ; I stand distraught a ghastly interval, Till on the roof-tree rings the bursting hail Of blood and doom. Even. now fate whets the steel AGAMEMNON. On whetstones new and deadlier than of old, The steel that smites, in Justice' hold, Another death to deal. Earth ! that I had lain at rest And lapped for ever in thy breast, Ere I had seen my chieftain fall Within the layer's silver Avail, Low-lying on dishonoured bier. And who shall give him sepulchre, And who the wail of sorrow pour ? Woman, 'tis thine no more ! A graceless gift unto his shade Such tribute, by his murd'ress paid ! Strive not thus wrongly to atone The impious deed thy hand hath done. Ah who above the god-like chief Shall weep the tears of loyal grief? Who speak above his lowly grave The last sad praises of the brave 1 CLYTEMNESTRA. Peace ! for such task is none of thine. By me he fell, by me he died, And now his burial rites be mine ! Yet from these halls no mourners' train Shall celebrate his obsequies ; Only by Acheron's rolling tide His child shall spring unto his side, And in a daughter's loving wise Shall clasp and kiss him once again ! CHORUS. Lo ! sin by sin and sorrow dogg'd by sorrow And who the end can know ? AGAMEMNON. 73 The slayer of to-day shall die to-morrow The wage of wrong is woe. While Time shall be, while Zeus in heaven is lord, His law is fixed and stern ; On him that wrought shall vengeance be outpoured The tides of doom return. The children of the curse abide within These halls of high estate And none can wrench from off the home of sin The clinging grasp of fate. CLYTEMNESTRA. Now walks thy word aright, to tell This ancient truth of oracle ; But I with vows of sooth will pray To him, the power that holdeth sway O'er all the race of Pleisthenes Thtf dark the deed and deep the guilt, With this last blood, my hands have spilt, 1 pray thee let thine anger cease ! I pray thee pass from us away To some new race in other lands, There, if thou wilt, to wrong and slay The lives of men by kindred hands. For me 'tis all sufficient meed, Tho' little wealth or power were won, So I can say, 'Tis past and done. The bloody lust and murderous, The inborn frenzy of our house. Is ended by my deed. \Enter sEgisthus. AGAMEMNON Dawn of the day of rightful vengeance, hail ! I dare at length aver that gods above Have care of men and heed of earthly wrongs. I, I who stand and thus exult to see This man lie wound in robes the Furies wove, Slain in requital of his father's craft. Take ye the truth, that Atreus, this man's sire, The lord and monarch of this laud of old, Held with my sire Thyestes deep dispute, Brother with brother, for the prize of sway, And drave him from his home to banishment. Thereafter, the lorn exile homeward stole And clung a suppliant to the hearth divine, And for himself won this immunity Not with his own blood to defile the land That gave him birth. But Atreus, godless sire Of him who here lies dead, this welcome planned- With zeal that was not love he feigned to hold In loyal joy a day of festal cheer, And bade my father to his board, and set Before him flesh that was his children once. First, sitting at the upper board alone, He hid the fingers and the feet, but gave The rest and readily Thyestes took What to his ignorance no semblance wore Of human flesh, and ate : behold what curse That eating brought upon our race and name ! For when he knew what all unhallowed thing He thus had wrought, with horror's bitter cry Back-starting, spewing forth the fragments foul, On Pelops' house a deadly curse he spake As darkly as I spurn this damned food, So perish all the race of Pleisthenes. AGAMEMNON. 75 Thus by that curse fell he whom here ye see, And I who else 1 this murder wove and planned ; For me, an infant yet in swaddling bands, Of the three * children youngest, Atreus sent To banishment by my sad father's side : But Justice brought me home once more, grown now To manhood's years ; and stranger thro' I was, My right hand reached unto the chieftain's life, Plotting and planning all that malice bade. And death itself were honour now to me, Beholding him injustice' ambush ta'en. CHORUS. ^Egisthus, for this insolence of thine That vaunts itself in evil, take my scorn. Of thine own will, them sayest, thou hast slain The chieftain, by thine own unaided plot Devised the piteous death : I rede thee well, Think not thy head shall 'scape, when right prevails, The people's ban, the stones of death and doom. This word from thee, this word from one who rows Low at the oars f beneath, what time we rule, We of the upper tier ? Thou'lt know anon, 'Tis bitter to be taught again in age, By one so young, submission at the word. But iron of the chain and hunger's throes, Can minister unto an o'erswoln pride Marvellous well, ay, even in the old. * Reading Jt/o-atOxiw. t The metaphor is from a Grecian trireme, which was rowed by three tiers of oars, the upper being considered the most honourable position. 7 6 AGAMEMNON. Hast eyes, and seest not this ? Peace kick not thus Against the pricks, unto thy proper pain ! CHORUS. Woman, home-watcher for thy lord who came But now from war, didst thou his couch defile And for the chief himself devise this doom ? Bold words again ! but they shall end in tears. The very converse, thine, of Orpheus' tongue : He roused and led in ecstasy of joy All things that heard his voice melodious ; But thou as with the futile cry of curs Wilt draw men wrathfully upon thee. Peace ! Or strong subjection soon shall tame thy tongue. CHORUS. Ay, thou art one to hold an Argive down, Thou, skilled to plan the murder of the king, But not with thine own hand to smite the blow ! zEGISTHUS. That fraudful force was woman's very part, Not mine, whom deep suspicion from of old Would have debarred. Now by his treasure's aid My purpose holds to rule the citizens. But whoso will not bear my guiding hand, Him for his corn-fed mettle I will drive Not as a trace-horse, light-caparisoned, But to the shafts with heaviest harness bound. Famine, the grim mate of the dungeon dark, Shall look on him and shall behold him tame. AGAMEMNON. 77 CHORUS. Thou losel soul, was then thy strength too slight To deal in murder, while a woman's hand, Staining and shaming Argos and its gods, Availed to slay him 1 Ho, if anywhere The light of life smite on Orestes' eyes, Let him, returning by some guardian fate, Hew down with force her paramour and her ! How thy word and act shall issue, thou shalt shortly under- stand. CHORUS. Up to action, O my comrades! for the fight is hard at hand. Swift, your right hands to the sword hilt ! bare the weapon as for strife Lo ! I too am standing ready, hand on hilt for death or life. CHORUS. 'Twas thy word and we accept it : onward to the chance of war ! CLYTEMNESTRA. Nay, enough, enough my champion ! we will smite and slay no more. Already have we reaped enough the harvest-field of guilt : Enough of wrong and murder, let no other blood be spilt. Peace, old men ! and pass away unto the homes by Fate decreed, Lest ill valour meet our vengeance 'twas a necessary deed. But enough of toils and troubles be the end, if ever, now, Ere thy talon, Avenger, deal another deadly blow. Tis a woman's word of warning, and let who will list thereto. 7 8 AGAMEMNON. JEGISTHUS. But that these should loose and lavish reckless blossoms of the tongue, And in hazard of their fortune cast upon me words of wrong, And forget the law of subjects, and revile their ruler's word CHORUS. Ruler ? but 'tis not for Argives thus to own a dastard lord. JEGISTHUS. I will follow to chastise thee in my coming days of sway. CHORUS. Not if Fortune guide Orestes safely on his homeward way. Ah, well I know how exiles feed on hopes of their return. CHORUS. Fare and batten on pollution of the right, while 'tis thy turn. Thou shalt pay, be well assured, heavy quittance for thy pride. CHORUS. Crow and strut, with her to watch thee, like a cock his mate beside ! ClA'TEMNESTRA. Heed not thou too highly of them let the cur-pack growl and yell : I and thou will rule the palace and will order all things well. \Exeunt. THE LIBATION -BEARERS. DRAMATIS PERSONS. ORESTES. CHORUS OP CAPTIVE WOMEN OF TROY. ELECTRA. A NURSE. CLYTEMNESTRA. yEGISTHUS. AN ATTENDANT. PYLADES. The Scene is the Tomb of Agamemnon at Mycence ; afterwards, the Palace of Atreus, hard by the Tomb. THE LIBATION - BEARERS. ORESTES. Lord of the shades and patron of the realm That erst my father swayed, list now my prayer, Hermes, and save me with thine aiding arm, Me who from banishment returning stand On this my country ; lo, my foot is set On this grave-mound, and herald-like, as thou, Once and again, I bid my father hear. And these twin locks from mine head shoni I bring, And one to Inachus the river-god, My young life's nurturer, I dedicate, And one in sign of mourning unfulfilled I lay, though late, on this my father's grave. For my father, not beside thy corse Stood I to wail thy death, nor was my hand Stretched out to bear thee forth to burial. What sight is yonder ? what this woman-throng Hitherward coming, by their sable garb Made manifest as mourners ? What hath chanced ? Doth some new sorrow hap within the home 1 Or rightly may I deem that they draw near Bearing libations, such as soothe the ire c THE LIB A TION- BEARERS. Of dead men angered, to my father's grave ? Nay, such they are indeed ; for I descry Electra mine own sister pacing hither, In moody grief conspicuous. Grant, Zeus, Grant me my father's murder to avenge Be thou my willing champion ! Pylades, Pass we aside, till rightly I descry Wherefore these women throng in suppliance. [Exeunt Pylades and Orestes ; enter the Chorus bearing vessels for libation ; Electra follows them; they pace slowly towards the tomb of Agamemnon. CHORUS. Forth from the royal halls by high command I bear libations for the dead. Rings on my smitten breast my smiting hand, And all my cheek is rent and red, Fresh-furrowed by my nails, and all my soul This many a day doth feed on cries of dole. And trailing tatters of my vest, In looped and windowed raggedness forlorn, Hang rent around my breast, Even as I, by blows of Fate most stern Saddened and torn. Oracular thro' visions, ghastly clear, Bearing a blast of wrath from realms below, And stiffening each rising hair with dread, Came out of dream-land Fear, And, loud and awful, bade The shriek ring out at midnight's witching hour, And brooded, stern with woe, Above the inner house, the woman's bower. THE LIBATION- BEARERS. 83 And seers inspired did read the dream on oath, Chanting aloud In realms below The dead are wroth ; Against their slayers yet their ire doth glow. Therefore to bear this gift of graceless worth Earth, my nursing mother ! The woman god-accurs'd doth send me forth Lest one crime bring another. Ill is the very word to speak, for none Can ransom or atone For blood once shed and darkening the plain. O hearth of woe and bane, state that low doth lie ! Sunless, accursed of men, the shadows brood Above the home of murdered majesty. Humour of might, unquestioned, unsubdued, Pervading ears and soul of lesser men, Is silent now and dead. Yet rules a viler dread ; For bliss and power, however won, As gods, and more than gods, dazzle our mortal ken. Justice doth mark, with scales that swiftly sway, Some that are yet in light ; Others in interspace of day and night, Till Fate arouse them, stay ; And some are lapped in night, where all things are undone.* * I have adopted here Conington's view (as opposed to Paley's), that there is a definite though wnry allusion to Clytemnestra and ./Egisthus, as yet in light and power ; to Orestes and Electra, as in the twilight of hope and doubt ; to Agamemnon, as lying in death's darkness. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. On the life-giving lap of Earth Blood hath flowed forth ; And now, the seed of vengeance, clots the plain Unmelting, unefFaced the stain. And Ate tarries long, but at the last The sinner's heart is cast Into pervading, waxing pangs of pain. Lo, when man's force doth ope The virgin doors, there is nor cure nor hope For what is lost, even so, I deem, Though in one channel ran Earth's every stream, Laving the hand defiled from murder's stain, It were in vain. And upon me ah me ! the gods have laid The woe that wrapped round Troy, What time they led me down from home and kin Unto a slave's employ The doom to bow the head And watch our master's will Work deeds of good and ill To see the headlong sway of force and sin, And hold restrained the spirit's bitter hate, Wailing the monarch's fruitless fate, Hiding my face within my robe, and fain Of tears, and chilled with frost of hidden pain. ELECTRA. Handmaidens, orderers of the palace-halls, Since at my side ye come, a suppliant train, Companions of this offering, counsel me As best befits the time : for I, who pour THE LIBATION-BEARERS, 85 Upon the grave these streams funereal, With what fair word can I invoke my sire ? Shall I aver Behold, I bear these gifts From well-loved wife unto her well-loved lord, When 'tis from her, my mother, that they corne ? I dare not say it : of all words I fail Wherewith to consecrate unto my sire These sacrificial honours on his grave. Or shall I speak this word, as mortals use Give back, to those who send these coronals, Full recompense of ills for acts malign ? Or shall I pour this draught for Earth to drink, Sans word or reverence, as my sire was slain, And homeward pass with unreverted eyes, Casting the bowl away, as one who flings The household cleansings to the common road ? Be art and part, friends, in this my doubt, Even as ye are in that one common hate Whereby we live attended : fear ye not The wrath of any man, nor hide your word Within your breast : the day of death and doom Awaits alike the freeman and the slave. Speak, then, if aught thou know'st to aid us more. CHORUS. Thou biddest ; I will speak my soul's thought out, Revering as a shrine thy father's grave. ELEOTRA. Say then thy say, as thou his tomb reverest. CHORUS. Speak solemn words to them that love, and pour. 86 THE LIBATION-BEARERS. ELECTRA. And of his kin whom dare I name as kind ? CHORUS. Thyself; and next, whoe'er JEgisthus scorns. ELECTRA. Then 'tis myself and thou, my prayer must name. CHORUS. Whoe'er they be, 'tis thine to know and name them. ELECTRA. Is there no other we may claim as ours 1 CHORUS. Think of Orestes, though far-off he be. ELECTRA. Right well in this too hast thou schooled my thought. CHORUS. Mindfully, next, on those who shed the blood ELECTRA. Pray on them what ? expound, instruct my doubt. CHORUS. This ; Upon them some god or mortal come ELECTRA. As judge or as avenger 1 speak thy thought. CHORUS. Pray in set terms, WJw shall the slayer slay. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 87 ELBCTRA. Beseemeth it to ask such boon of heaven ? CHORUS. How not, to wreak a wrong upon a foe ? ELECTRA. mighty Hermes, warder of the shades, Herald of upper and of under world, Proclaim and usher down my prayer's appeal Unto the gods below, that they with eyes Watchful behold these halls, my sire's of old And unto Earth, the mother of all things, And foster-nurse, and womb that takes their seed. Lo, I that pour these draughts for men now dead, Call on my father, who yet holds in ruth Me and mine own Orestes, father', speak How shall thy children rule thine halls again ? Homeless we are and sold ; and she who sold Is she who bore us ; and the price she took Is he who joined with her to work thy death, sEgisthus, her new lord. Behold me here Brought down to slave's estate, and far away Wanders Orestes, banished from the wealth That once was thine, the profit of thy care, Whereon these revel in a shameful joy. Father, my prayer is said ; 'tis thine to hear Grant that some fair fate bring Orestes home, And unto me grant these a purer soul Than is my mother's, a more stainless hand. These be my prayers for us ; for thee, sire, THE LIBATION-BEARERS. I cry that one may come to smite thy foes, And that the slayers may in turn be slain. Cursed is their prayer, and thus I bar its path, Praying mine own, a counter-curse on them. And thou, send up to us the righteous boon For which we pray ; thine aids be heaven and earth, And justice guide the right to victory. [To the Chorus. Thus have I prayed, and thus I shed these streams, And follow ye the wont, and as with flowers Crown ye with many a tear and cry the dirge Your lips ring out above the dead man's grave. [She pours the libations. CHORUS. Woe, woe, woe ! Let the teardrop fall, plashing on the ground Where our lord lies low : Fall and cleanse away the cursed libation's stain, Shed on this grave-mound, Fenced wherein together, gifts of good or bane From the dead are found. Lord of Argos, hearken ! Though around thee darken Mist of death and hell, arise and hear ! Hearken and awaken to our cry of woe ! Who with might of spear Shall our home deliver 1 Who like Ares bend until it quiver, Bend the northern bow ? Who with hand upon the hilt himself will thrust with glaive, Thrust and slay and save ? THE LIBATION-BEAKERS. ELECTRA. Lo ! the earth drinks them, to my sire they pass Learn ye with me of this thing new and strange. CHORUS. Speak thou ; my breast doth palpitate with fear. ELECTRA. I see upon the tomb a curl new shorn. CHORUS. Shorn from what man or what deep-girded maid ? ELECTRA. That may he guess who will ; the sign is plain. CHORUS. Let me learn this of thee ; let youth prompt age. ELECTRA. None is there here but I, to clip such gift. CHORUS. For they who thus should mourn him hate him sore. ELECTRA. And lo ! in truth the hair exceeding like CHORUS. Like to what locks and whose ? instruct me that. ELECTRA. Like unto those my father's children wear. CHORUS. Then is this lock Orestes' secret gift 1 90 THE LIBATION-BEARERS. ELECTRA. Most like it is unto the curls he wore. CHORUS. Yet how dared he to come unto his home 1 ELECTRA. He hath but sent it, clipt to mourn his sire. CHORUS. It is a sorrow grievous as his death, That he should live yet never dare return. ELECTRA. Yea, and my heart o'erflows with gall of grief, And I am pierced as with a cleaving dart ; Like to the first drops after drought, my tears Fall down at will, a bitter bursting tide, As on this lock I gaze ; I cannot deem That any Argive save Orestes' self Was ever lord thereof ; nor, well I wot, Hath she, the murd'ress, shorn and laid this lock To mourn him whom she slew my mother she, Bearing no mother's heart, but to her race A loathing spirit, loathed itself of heaven ! Yet to affirm, as utterly made sure, That this adornment cometh of the hand Of mine Orestes, brother of my soul, I may not venture, yet hope flatters fair ! Ah well-a-day, that this dumb hair had voice To glad mine ears, as might a messenger, Bidding me sway no more 'twixt fear and hope, Clearly commanding, Cast me hence away, Clipped was I from some head thou lovest not ; THE LIBATION-BEARERS. Or, / am kin to thee, and here, as thou, I come to weep and deck our father's grave. Aid me, ye gods ! for well indeed ye know How in the gale and counter-gale of doubt, Like to the seaman's bark, we whirl and stray. But, if God will our life, how strong shall spring, From seed how small, the new tree of our home ! Lo ye, a second sign these footsteps, look, Like to my own, a corresponsive print ; And look, another footmark, this his own, And that the foot of one who walked with him. Mark, how the heel and tendons' print combine, Measured exact, with mine coincident ! Alas, for doubt and anguish rack my mind. ORESTES (approaching suddenly}. Pray thou, in gratitude for prayers fulfilled, Fair fall the rest of what I ask of heaven. ELECTRA. Wherefore ? what win I from the gods by prayer ? ORESTES. This, that thine eyes behold thy heart's desire. ELECTRA. On whom of mortals know'st thou that I call ? ORESTES. I know thy yearning for Orestes deep. ELECTRA. Say then, wherein event hath crowned my prayer? THE LIBATION-BEARERS. ORESTES. I, I am he ; seek not one more akin. ELECTRA. Some fraud, stranger, weavest thou for me 1 ORESTES. Against myself I weave it, if I weave. ELECTRA. Ah, thou hast mind to mock me in my woe ! ORESTES. Tis at mine own I mock then, mocking thine. ELECTRA. Speak I with thee then as Orestes' self ? ORESTES. My very face thou see'st and know'st me not, And yet but now, when thou didst see the lock Shorn for my father's grave, and when thy quest Was eager on the footprints I had made, Even I, thy brother, shaped and sized as thou, Fluttered thy spirit, as at sight of me ! Lay now this ringlet whence 'twas shorn, and judge, And look upon this robe, thine own hands' work, The shuttle-prints, the creature wrought thereon Refrain thyself, nor prudence lose in joy, For well I wot, our kin are less than kind. ELECTRA. thou that art unto our father's home Love, grief and hope, for thee the tears ran down, THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 93 For thee, the son, the saviour that should be ; Trust thou thine arm and win thy father's halls ! O aspect sweet of fourfold love to me, Whom upon thee the heart's constraint bids call As on my father, and the claim of love From me unto my mother turns to thee, For she is very hate ; to thee too turns What of my heart went out to her who died A ruthless death upon the altar-stone ; And for myself I love thee thee that wast A brother leal, sole stay of love to me. Now by thy side be strength and right, and Zeus Saviour almighty, stand to aid the twain ! ORESTES. Zeus, Zeus ! look down on our estate and us, The orphaned brood of him, our eagle-sire, Whom to his death a fearful serpent brought, Enwinding him in coils ; and we, bereft And foodless, sink with famine all too weak To bear unto the eyrie, as he bore, Such quarry as he slew. Lo ! I and she, Electra, stand before thee, fatherless, And each alike cast out and homeless made. ELECTRA. And if thou leave to death the brood of him Whose altar blazed for thee, whose reverence Was thine, all thine, whence, in the after years, Shall any hand like his adorn thy shrine With sacrifice of flesh ? the eaglets slain, Thou wouldst not have a messenger to bear Thine omens, once so clear, to mortal men ; So, if this kingly stock be withered all, 94 THE LIBATION -BEARERS. None on high festivals will fend thy shrine. Stoop thou to raise us ! strong the race shall grow, Though puny now it seem, and fallen low. CHORUS. children, saviours of your father's home, Beware ye of your words, lest one should hear And bear them, for the tongue hath lust to tell, Unto our masters whom God grant to me In pitchy reek of f un'ral flame to see ! Nay, mighty is Apollo's oracle And shall not fail me, whom it bade to pass Thro' all this peril ; clear the voice rang out With many warnings, sternly threatening To my hot heart the wintry chill of pain Unless upon the slayers of my sire I pressed for vengeance : this the god's command That I, in ire for home and wealth despoiled, Should with a craft like theirs the slayers slay : Else with my very life I should atone This deed undone, in many a ghastly wise. For he proclaimed unto the ears of men That offerings, poured to angry powers of death, Exude again, unless their will be done, As grim disease on those that poured them forth As leprous ulcers mounting on the flesh And with fell fangs corroding what of old Wore natural form ; and on the brow arise White poisoned hairs, the crown of this disease. He spake moreover of assailing fiends Empowered to quit on me my father's blood, Wreaking their wrath on me, what time in night THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 95 Beneath shut lids the spirit's eye sees clear. The dart that flies in darkness, sped from hell By spirits of the murdered dead who call Unto their kin for vengeance, formless fear, The night-tide's visitant, and madness' curse Should drive and rack me ; and my tortured frame Should be chased forth from man's community As with the brazen scorpions of the scourge. For me and such as me no lustral bowl Should stand, no spilth of wine be poured to God For me, and wrath unseen of rny dead sire Should drive me from the shrine ; no man should dare To take me to his hearth, nor dwell with me : Slow, friendless, cursed of all should be mine end, And pitiless * horror wind me for the grave. This spake the god this dare I disobey ? Yea, though I dared, the deed must yet be done ; For to that end diverse desires combine, The god's behest, deep grief for him who died, And last, the grievous blank of wealth despoiled All these weigh on me, urge that Argive men, Minions of valour, who with soul of fire Did make of fenced Troy a ruinous heap, Be not left slaves to two and each a woman ! For he, the man, wears woman's heart ; if not, Soon shall he know, confronted by a man. [Orestes, Electro,, and the Chorus gather round the tomb of Agamemnon for the invocation which follows. CHORUS. Mighty Fates, on you we call ! Bid the will of Zeus ordain * Pity winds thy corse, Whilst horror waits on princes. Webster. g6 THE LIBATION-BEARERS. Power to those, to whom again Justice turns with hand and aid ! Grievous was the prayer one made Grievous let the answer fall ! Where the mighty doom is set, Justice claims aloud her debt. Who in blood hath dipped the steel, Deep in blood her meed shall feel ! List an immemorial word Whosoe'er shall take the sword Shall perish by the sword. ORESTES. Father, unblest in death, father mine ! What breath of word or deed Can I waft on thee from this far confine Unto thy lowly bed, Waft upon thee, in midst of darkness lying, Hope's counter-gleam of fire ? Yet the loud dirge of praise brings grace undying Unto each parted sire. CHORUS. O child, the spirit of the dead, Altho' upon his flesh have fed The grim teeth of the flame, Is quelled not ; after many days The sting of wrath his soul shall raise, A vengeance to reclaim ! To the dead rings loud our cry Plain the living's treachery Swelling, shrilling, urged on high, The vengeful dirge, for parents slain, Shall strive and shall attain. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 97 ELECTRA. Hear me too, even me, father, hear ! Not by one child alone these groans, these tears are shed Upon thy sepulchre. Each, each, where thou art lowly laid, Stands, a suppliant, homeless made : Ah, and all is full of ill, Comfort is there none to say ! Strive and wrestle as we may, Still stands doom invincible. CHORUS. Nay, if so he will, the god Still our tears to joy can turn. He can bid a triumph-ode Drown the dirge beside this urn ; He to kingly halls can greet The child restored, the homeward-guided feet. ORESTES. Ah my father ! hadst thou lain Under Ilion's wall, By some Lycian spearman slain, Thou hadst left in this thine hall Honour ; thou hadst wrought for us Fame and life most glorious. Over-seas if thou had'st died, Heavily had stood thy tomb, Heaped on high ; but, quenched in pride, Grief were light unto thy home. CHORUS. Loved and honoured hadst thou lain By the dead that nobly fell, THE LIBATION-BEARERS. In the under-world again Where are throned the kings of hell, Full of sway, adorable Thou hadst stood at their right hand Thou that wert, in mortal land, By Fate's ordinance and law, King of kings who bear the crown And the staff, to which in awe Mortal men bow down. ELECTRA. Nay father, I were fain Other fate had fallen on thee. Ill it were if thou hadst lain One among the common slain, Fallen by Scamander's side Those who slew thee there should be ! * Then, untouched by slavery, We had heard as from afar Deaths of those who should have died 'Mid the chance of war. CHORUS. child, forbear ! things all too high thou sayest. Easy, but vain, thy cry ! * Electra's aspiration, vaguely expressed in the original, is made more indefinite still by a gap in the text She seems to wish passionately that the facts had been exactly reversed ; that, instead of Agamemnon being slain close to his home and to her, his enemies, i.e., ^Egisthus and Clyternnestra, had been slain in a far-off land. The idealism, so to speak, of her wish, is immediately reproved by the Chorus. With all deference to Paley's view, however, I doubt if Electra's feeling is one of horror at being compelled to witness the coming deaths of ^Egisthus and Clyternnestra. This shrinking is not in her character ; her wish here is only a passion of feminine sorrow a cry like that of Daphnis: Travra ' EaXAa yexuro. Theoc., Id., i, 133. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. A boon above all gold is that thou prayest, An unreached destiny, As of the blessed land that far aloof Beyond the north wind lies ; Yet doth your double prayer ring loud reproof ; A double scourge of sighs Awakes the dead ; th' avengers rise, though late ; Blood stains the guilty pride Of the accursed who rule on earth, and Fate Stands on the children's side. ELECTRA. That hath sped thro' mine ear, like a shaft from a bow ! Zeus, Zeus ! it is thou who dost send from below A doom on the desperate doer ere long On a mother a father shall visit his wrong. CHORUS. Be it mine to upraise thro' the reek of the pyre The chant of delight, while the funeral fire Devoureth the corpse of a man that is slain And a woman laid low ! For who bids me conceal it 1 out-rending control, Blows ever the stern blast of hate thro' my soul, And before me a vision of wrath and of bane Flits and waves to and fro. ORESTES. Zeus, thou alone to us art parent now. Smite with a rending blow Upon their heads, and bid the land be well : Set right where wrong hath stood ; and thou give ear, Earth, unto my prayer Yea, hear mother Earth, and monarchy of hell ! THE LIBATION-BEARERS. CHORUS. Nay, the law is sternly set Blood-drops shed upon the ground Plead for other bloodshed yet ; Loud the call of death doth sound, Calling guilt of olden time, A Fury, crowning crime with crime. ELECTRA. Where, where are ye, avenging powers, Puissant Furies of the slain ? Behold the relics of the race Of Atreus, thrust from pride of place ! Zeus, what home henceforth is ours, What refuge to attain ? CHORUS. Lo, at your wail my heart throbs, wildly stirred ; Now am I lorn with sadness, Darkened in all my soul, to hear your sorrow's word. Anon to hope, the seat of strength, I rise, She, thrusting grief away, lifts up mine eyes To the new dawn of gladness. ORESTES. Skills it to tell of aught save wrong on wrong, Wrought by our mother's deed ? Though now she fawn for pardon, sternly strong Standeth our wrath, and will nor hear nor heed Her children's soul is wolfish, born from hers, And softens not by prayers. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. CHORUS. I dealt upon my breast the blow That Asian mourning women know ; Wails from my breast the fun'ral cry, The Cissian weeping melody ; Stretched rendingly forth, to tatter and tear, My clenched hands wander, here and there, From head to breast ; distraught with blows Throb dizzily my brows. ELECTRA. Aweless in hate, mother, sternly brave ! As in a foeman's grave Thou laid'st in earth a king, but to the bier No citizen drew near, Thy husband, thine, yet for his obsequies, Thou bad'st no wail arise ! ORESTES. Alas, the shameful* burial thou dost speak ! Yet I the vengeance of his shame will wreak That do the gods command ! That shall achieve mine hand ! Grant me to thrust her life away, and I Will dare to die ! CHORUS. List thou the deed ! Hewn down and foully torn, He to the tomb was borne ; Yea, by her hand, the deed who wrought, With like dishonour to the grave was brought, And by her hand she strove, with strong desire, Thy life to crush, O child, by murder of thy sire : * Reading Tet,<pa, otT'ipuv for TO tca.v dripus a correction due to Dr. VerralL THE LIBATION-BEARERS. Bethink thee, hearing, of the shame, the pain Wherewith that sire was slain ! ELECTRA. Yea, such was the doom of my sire ; well-a-day, I was thrust from his side, As a dog from the chamber they thrust me away, And in place of my laughter rose sobbing and tears, As in darkness I lay. father, if this word can pass to thine ears, To thy soul let it reach and abide ! CHORUS. Let it pass, let it pierce, through the sense of thine ear, To thy soul, where in silence it waiteth the hour ! The past is accomplished ; but rouse thee to hear What the future prepareth ; awake and appear, Our champion, in wrath and in power ! ORESTES. father, to thy loved ones come in aid. ELECTRA. With tears I call on thee. CHORUS. Listen and rise to light ! Be thou with us, be thou against the foe ! Swiftly this cry arises even so Pray we, the loyal band, as we have prayed ! ORESTES. Let their might meet with mine, and their right with my right. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 103 ELECTRA. ye Gods, it is yours to decree. CHORUS. Ye call unto the dead ; I quake to hear. Fate is ordained of old, and shall fulfil your prayer. ELECTRA. Alas, the inborn curse that haunts our home, Of Ate's bloodstained scourge the tuneless sound ! Alas, the deep insufferable doom, The stanchless wound ! ORESTES. It shall be stanched, the task is ours, Not by a stranger's, but by kindred hand, Shall be chased forth the blood-fiend of our land. Be this our spoken spell, to call Earth's nether powers ! CHORUS. Lords of a dark eternity, To you has come the children's cry, Send up from hell, fulfil your aid To them who prayed. ORESTES. father, murdered in unkingly wise, Fulfil. my prayer, grant me thine halls to sway. ELECTRA. To me, too, grant this boon dark death to deal Unto ^Egisthus, and to 'scape my doom. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. ORESTES. So shall the rightful feasts that mortals pay Be set for thee ; else, not for thee shall rise The scented reek of altars fed with flesh, But thou shalt lie dishonoured : hear thou me ! ELECTRA. I too, from my full heritage restored, Will pour the lustral streams, what time I pass Forth as a bride from these paternal halls, And honour first, beyond all graves, thy tomb. ORESTES. Earth, send my sire to fend me in the fight ! ELECTRA. Give fair-faced fortune, Persephone ! ORESTES. Bethink thee, father, in the laver slain ELECTRA. Bethink thee of the net they handselled for thee ! ORESTES. Bonds not of brass ensnared thee, father mine. ELECTRA. Yea, the ill craft of an enfolding robe. ORESTES. By this our bitter speech arise, sire ! THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 105 ELECTRA. Raise thou thine head at love's last, dearest call ! ORESTES. Yea, speed forth Right to aid thy kinsmen's cause ; Grip for grip, let them grasp the foe, if thou Wiliest in triumph to forget thy fall. ELECTRA. Hear me, father, once again hear me. Lo ! on thy tomb, two fledglings of thy brood A man-child and a maid ; hold them in ruth, Nor wipe them out, the last of Pelops' line. For while they live, thou livest from the dead Children are memory's voices, and preserve The dead from wholly dying : as a net Is ever by the buoyant corks upheld, Which save the flax-mesh, in the depth submerged. Listen, this wail of ours doth rise for thee, And as thou heedest it thyself art saved. CHORUS. In sooth, a blameless prayer ye spake at length The tomb's requital for its dirge denied : Now, for the rest, as thou art fixed to do, Take fortune by the hand and work thy will. The doom is set ; and yet I fain would ask Not swerving from the course of my resolve, Wherefore she sent these offerings, and why THE LIBATION-BEARERS. She softens all too late her cureless deed 1 An idle boon it was, to send them here Unto the dead who recks not of such gifts. I cannot guess her thought, but well I ween Such gifts are skilless to atone such crime. Be blood once spilled, an idle strife he strives Who seeks with other wealth or wine outpoured To atone the deed. So stands the word nor fails. Yet would I know her thought ; speak, if thou kuowest. CHORUS. I know it, son ; for at her side I stood. 'Twas the night-wandering terror of a dream That flung her shivering from her couch, and bade her- Her, the accursed of God these offerings send. ORESTES. Heard ye the dream, to tell it forth aright ? CHORUS. Yea, from herself; her womb a serpent bare. ORESTES. What then the sum and issue of the tale 1 CHORUS. Even as a swaddled child, she lull'd the thing. ORESTES. What suckling craved the creature, born f ull-fauged ? CHORUS. Yet in her dreams she proffered it the breast. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. ORESTES. How ? did the hateful thing not bite her teat ? CHORUS. Yea, and sucked forth a blood-gout in the milk. ORESTES. Not vain this dream it bodes a man's revenge. CHORUS. Then out of sleep she started with a cry, And thro' the palace for their mistress' aid Full many lamps, that erst lay blind with night, Flared into light ; then, even as mourners use, She sends these offerings, in hope to win A cure to cleave and sunder sin from doom. ORESTES. Earth and my father's grave, to you I call Give this her dream fulfilment, and thro' me. I read it in each part coincident With what shall be ; for mark, that serpent sprang From the same womb as I, in swaddling bands By the same hands was swathed, lipped the same breast, And sucking forth the same sweet mother's-milk Infused a clot of blood ; and in alarm She cried upon her wound the cry of pain. The rede is clear : the thing of dread she nursed, The death of blood she dies ; and I, 'tis I, In semblance of a serpent, that must slay her. Thou art my seer, and thus I read the dream. THE LIBATION -BEARERS. CHORUS. So do ; yet ere thou doest, speak to us, Bidding some act, some, by not acting, aid. ORESTES. Brief my command : I bid my sister pass In silence to the house, and all I bid This my design with wariness conceal, That they who did by craft a chieftain slay May by like craft and in like noose be ta'en, Dying the death which Loxias foretold Apollo, king and prophet undisproved. I with this warrior Pylades will come In likeness of a stranger, fall equipt As travellers come, and at the palace gates Will stand, as stranger yet in friendship's bond Unto this house allied ; and each of us Will speak the tongue that round Parnassus sounds, Feigning such speech as Phocian voices use. And what if none of those that tend the gates Shall welcome us with gladness, since the house With ills divine is haunted ? if this hap, We at the gate will bide, till, passing by, Some townsman make conjecture and proclaim How ? is sEgisthus here, and knowingly Keeps suppliants aloof, by bolt and bar? Then shall I win my way ; and if I cross The threshold of the gate, the palace' guard, And find him throned where once my father sat Or if he come anon, and face to face Confronting, drop his eyes from mine I swear He shall not utter, Who art thou and whence ? Ere my steel leap, and compassed round with death Low he shall lie : and thus, full-fed with doom, The Fury of the house shall drain once more THE LIBATION- BEARERS. 109 A deep third draught of rich unmingled blood. But thou, sister, look that all within Be well prepared to give these things event. And ye I say 'twere well to bear a tongue Full of fair silence and of fitting speech As each beseems the time ; and last, do thou, Hermes the warder-god, keep watch and Avard, And guide to victory my striving sword. [Exit with Py lades. CHORUS. Many and marvellous the things of fear Earth's breast doth bear ; And the sea's lap with many monsters teems, And windy levin-bolts and meteor-gleams Breed many deadly things Unknown and flying forms, with fear upon their wings, And in their tread is death ; And rushing whirlwinds, of whose blasting breath Man's tongue can tell. But who can tell aright the fiercer thing, The aweless soul, within man's breast inhabiting ? Who tell, how, passion-fraught and love-distraught, The woman's eager, craving thought Doth wed mankind to woe and ruin fell ? Yea, how the loveless love that doth possess The woman, even as the lioness, Doth rend and wrest apart, with eager strife, The link of wedded life ? Let him be the witness, whose thought is not borne on light wings thro' the air, THE LIB A T1ON- BE A KERS. But abideth with knowledge, what thing was wrought by * Althea's despair ; For she marr'd the life-grace of her son, with ill counsel rekindled the flame That was quenched as it glowed on the brand, what time from his mother he carne, With the cry of a new-born child ; and the brand from the burning she won, For the Fates had foretold it coeval, in life and in death, with her son. Yea, and man's hate tells of another, even Scylla t of mur- derous guile, Who slew for an enemy's sake her father, won o'er by the wile And the gifts of Cretan Minos, the gauds of the high- wrought gold; For she clipped from her father's head the lock that should never wax old, As he breathed in the silence of sleep, and knew not her craft and her crime But Hermes, the guard of the dead, doth grasp her, in fulness of time. * This legend, (accessible now, to all lovers of poetry, in Mr. Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon,) is briefly as follows: Althea, at the birth of her son Meleager, had a vision of the Fates, who told her that her son should live till the brand then on the hearth was consumed. Therefore she ex- tinguished the brand and guarded it, till being wroth with Meleager for having slain her brothers, Toxeus and Plexippus, she cast the brand into the flame, and as it wasted so did Meleager perish and pass away. + Scylla, daughter of Nisus, king of Megara, betrayed her father and his kingdom to Minos, king of Crete : for she loved Minos, and being persuaded by him, did cut off from her father's head, as he lay asleep, a lock of purple hair ; which lock so long as he kept unshorn, it was fated that neither he nor his kingdom should fall. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. And since of the crimes of the cruel I tell, let my singing record The bitter wedlock and loveless, the curse on these halls outpoured, The crafty device of a woman, whereby did a chieftain fall, A warrior stern in his wrath, the fear of his enemies all, A song of dishonour, untimely ! and cold is the hearth that was warm, And ruled by the cowardly spear, the woman's unwomanly arm. But the summit and crown of all crimes is that which in Lemnos befel ; * A woe and a mourning it is, a shame and a spitting to tell ; And he that in after time doth speak of his deadliest thought, Doth say // is like to the deed that of old time in Lemnos was wrought ; And loathed of men were the doers, and perished, they and their seed, For the gods brought hate upon them ; none loveth the impious deed. It is well of these tales to tell ; for the sword in the grasp of Right With a cleaving, piercing blow to the innermost heart doth smite, And the deed unlawfully done is not trodden down nor forgot, When the sinner out-steppeth the law and heedeth the high God not ; * A double tragedy of domestic massacre, which took place in Lemnos, gave rise to a proverbial use of the adjective " Lemnian" for "atrocious." THE LIBATION-BEARERS. But Justice hath planted the anvil, and Destiny forgeth the sword That shall smite in her chosen time ; by her is the child restored ; And darkly devising, the Fiend of the house, world-cursed, will repay The price of the blood of the slain, that was shed in the bygone day. [Enter Orestes and Py lades, in guise of travellers. ORESTES (knocking at the palace-gate). What ho ! slave, ho ! I smite the palace gate In vain, it seems ; what ho, attend within, Once more, attend ; come forth and ope the halls, If yet ^Egisthus holds them hospitable. SLAVE (from within). Anon, anon ! [Opens the door. Speak, from what land art thou, and sent from whom ? ORESTES. Go, tell to them who rule the palace-halls, Since 'tis to them I come with tidings new (Delay not Night's dark car is speeding on, And time is now for wayfarers to cast Anchor in haven, wheresoe'er a house Doth welcome strangers) that there now come forth Some one who holds authority within The queen, or, if some man, more seemly were it ; For when man standeth face to face with man, No stammering modesty confounds their speech, But each to each doth tell his meaning clear. [Enter Clytemncstra. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 113 CLYTEMNESTRA. Speak on, strangers : have ye need of aught ? Here is whate'er beseems a house like this Warm bath and bed, tired Nature's soft restorer, And courteous eyes to greet you ; and if aught Of graver import needeth act as well, That, as man's charge, I to a man will tell. ORESTES. A Daulian man am I, from Phocis bound ; And as with mine own travel-scrip self-laden I went toward Argos, parting hitherwurd With travelling foot, there did encounter me One whom I knew not and who knew not me, But asked my purposed Avay nor hid his own, And, as we talked together, told his name Strophius of Phocis ; then he said, " Good sir, Since in all case thou art to Argos bound, Forget not this my message, heed it well, Tell to his own, Orestes is no more. And whatsoe'er his kinsfolk shall resolve, Whether to bear his dust unto his home, Or lay him here, in death as erst in life Exiled for aye, a child of banishment Bring me their hest, upon thy backward road ; For now in brazen compass of an urn His ashes lie, their dues of weeping paid." So much I heard, and so much tell to thee, Not knowing if I speak unto his kin Who rule his home ; but well, I deem, it were, Such news should earliest reach a parent's car. Ii 4 THE LIBATION -BEARERS. CLYTEMNESTRA. Ah woe is me ! thy word our ruin tells ; From roof-tree unto base are we despoiled. thou whom nevermore we wrestle down, Thou Fury of this home, how oft and oft Thou dost descry what far aloof is laid, Yea, from afar dost bend th' unerring bow And rendest from my wretchedness its friends ; As now Orestes who, a brief while since, Safe from the mire of death stood warily, Was the home's hope to cure th' exulting wrong ; Now thou ordainest, Let the ill abide. ORESTES. To host and hostess thus with fortune blest, Lief had I come with better news to bear Unto your greeting and acquaintanceship ; For what goodwill lies deeper than the bond Of guest and host ? and wrong abhorred it were, As well I deem, if I, who pledged my faith To one, and greetings from the other had, Bore not aright the tidings 'twixt the twain. CLYTEMNESTRA. What'er thy news, thou shalt not welcome lack, Meet and deserved, nor scant our grace shall be. Hadst thou thyself not come, such tale to tell, Another, sure, had borne it to our ears. But lo ! the hour is here when travelling guests, Fresh from the daylong labour of the road, Should win their rightful due. Take him within [To the slave. To the man-chamber's hospitable rest Him and these fellow-farers at his side ; THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 115 Give them such guest-right as beseems our halls ; I bid thee do as thou shalt answer for it. And I unto the prince that rules our home Will tell the tale, and, since we lack not friends, With them will counsel how this hap to bear. [Exit Clytemnestra. CHORUS. So be it done Sister-servants, when draws nigh Time for us aloud to cry Orestes and his victory ? holy earth and holy tomb Over the grave-pit heaped on high, Where low doth Agamemnon lie The king of ships, the army's lord ! Now is the hour give ear and come, For now doth Craft her aid afford, And Hermes, guard of shades in hell, Stands o'er their strife, to sentinel The dooming of the sword. I wot the stranger worketh woe within For lo ! I see come forth, suffused with tears, Orestes' nurse. What ho, Kilissa thou Beyond the doors? Where goest thou? Methinks Some grief unbidden walketh at thy side. [.Enter Kilissa, a nurse. KILISSA. My mistress bids me, with what speed I may, Call in yEgisthus to the stranger guests, That he may come, and standing face to face, A man with men, may thus more clearly learn This rumour new. Thus speaking, to her slaves n6 THE LIBATION-BEARERS. She hid beneath the glance of fictive grief Laughter for what is wrought to her desire Too well ; but ill, ill, ill besets the house, Brought by the tale these guests have told so clear. And he, God wot, will gladden all his heart Hearing this rumour. Woe and well-a-day ! The bitter mingled cup of ancient woes, Hard to be borne, that here in Atreus' house Befel, was grievous to mine inmost heart, But never yet did I endure such pain. All else I bore with set soul patiently ; But now alack, alack ! Orestes dear, The day and night-long travail of my soul ! Whom from his mother's womb, a new-born child, I clasped and cherished ! Many a time and oft Toilsome and profitless my service was, When his shrill outcry called me from my couch ! For the young child, before the sense is born, Hath but a dumb thing's life, must needs be nursed As its own nature bids. The swaddled thing Hath nought of speech, whate'er discomfort come Hunger or thirst or lower weakling need, For the babe's stomach works its own relief. Which knowing well before, yet oft surprised, 'Twas mine to cleanse the swaddling clothes poor I Was nurse to tend and fuller to make white : Two works in one, two handicrafts, I took When in mine arms the father laid the boy. And now he's dead alack and well-a-day ! Yet must I go to him whose wrongful power Pollutes this house fair tidings these to him ! CHORUS. Say then, with what arrav she bids him come 1 THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 117 KlLISSA. What say'st thou ! Speak more clearly for mine ear. CHORUS. Bids she bring henchmen, or to come alone ? KILISSA. She bids him bring a spear-armed body-guard. CHORUS. Nay, tell not that unto our loathed lord, But speed to him, put on the mien of joy, Say Come alone, fear nought, the news is good : A bearer can tell straight a twisted tale.* KILISSA. Does then thy mind in this new tale find joy ? CHORUS. What if Zeus bid our ill wind veer to fair ? KILISSA. And how ? the home's hope with Orestes dies. CHORUS. Not yet a seer, though feeble, this might see. KILISSA. What say'st thou ? Know'st thou aught, this tale belying ? * Reading xfTrrof for y.a VTTTO^. The line contains a proverb not other- wise known. Its application here is ambiguous ; I have taken it to mean, "I, the Chorus, have twisted, perverted, the order which was given to you, the nurse ; do you, as messenger, deliver it as straight, i.e. unhesitatingly, as if it were in its original form." Il8 THE LIBATION-BEARERS. CHORUS. Go, tell the news to him, perform thine hest, What the gods will, themselves can well provide. KILISSA. Well, I will go, herein obeying thee ; And luck fall fair, with favour sent from heaven. [Exit. CHORUS. Zeus, sire of them who on Olympus dwell, Hear thou, hear my prayer ! Grant to my rightful lords to prosper well Even as their zeal is fair ! For right, for right goes up aloud my cry Zeus, aid him, stand anigh ! Into his father's hall he goes To smite his father's foes. Bid him prevail ! by thee on throne of triumph set, Twice, yea and thrice with joy shall he acquit the debt. Bethink thee, the young steed, the orphan foal Of sire beloved by thee, unto the car Of doom is harnessed fast. Guide him aright, plant firm a lasting goal, Speed thou his pace, that no chance may mar The homeward course, the last ! And ye who dwell within the inner chamber Where shines the stored joy of gold Gods of one heart, hear ye, and remember ; Up and avenge the blood shed forth of old, THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 119 With sudden rightful blow ; Then let the old curse die, nor be renewed With progeny of blood, Once more, and not again, be latter guilt laid low ! thou who dwelPst in Delphi's mighty cave, Grant us to see this home once more restored Unto its rightful lord ! Let it look forth, from veils of death, with joyous eye Unto the dawning light of liberty ; And Hermes, Maia's child, lend hand to save, Willing the right, and guide Our state with Fortune's breeze adown the favouring tide. Whate'er in darkness hidden lies, He utters at his will ; He at his will throws darkness on our eyes, By night and eke by day inscrutable. Then, then shall wealth atone The ills that here were done. Then, then will we unbind, Fling free on wafting wind Of joy, the woman's voice that waileth now In piercing accents for a chief laid low ; And this our song shall be Hail to the commonwealth restored ! Hail to the freedom won to me I ' All hail ! for doom hath passed from him, my well-loved lord! And thou, child, when Time and Chance agree, Up to the deed that for thy sire is done ! And if she wail unto thee, Spare, O son Cry Aid, O father and achieve the deed, The horror of man's tongue, the gods' great need ! Hold in thy breast such heart as Perseus had, THE LIB A 770 AT- BE A RERS. The bitter woe work forth, Appease the summons of the dead, The wrath of friends on earth ; Yea, set within a sign of blood and doom And do to titter death him that pollutes thy home. [Enter sEgisthus. Hither and not unsummoned have I come ; For a new rumour, borne by stranger men Arriving hither, hath attained mine ears, Of hap unwished-for, even Orestes' death. This were new sorrow, a blood-bolter'd load Laid on the house that doth already bow Beneath a former wound that festers deep. Dare I opine these words have truth and life ? Or are they tales, of woman's terror born, That fly in the void air, and die disproved ? Canst thou tell aught, and prove it to my soul 1 CHORUS. What we have heard, we heard ; go thou within Thyself to ask the strangers of their tale ; Strengthless are tidings, thro' another heard ; Question is his, to Avhom the tale is brought. I too will meet and test the messenger, Whether himself stood witness of the death, Or tells it merely from dim rumour learnt : None shall cheat me, whose soul hath watchful eyes. {Exit. CHORUS. Zeus, Zeus ! what word to me is given ? What cry or prayer, invoking heaven, THE LIBATION -BEARERS. Shall first by me be uttered ? What speech of craft nor all revealing, Nor all too warily concealing Ending my speech, shall aid the deed ? For lo ! in readiness is laid The dark emprise, the rending blade ; Blood-dropping daggers shall achieve The dateless doom of Atreus' name, Or kindling torch and joyful flame In sign of new-won liberty Once more Orestes shall retrieve His father's wealth, and, throned on high, Shall hold the city's fealty. So mighty is the grasp whereby, Heaven-holpen, he shall trip and throw, Unseconded, a double foe. Ho for the victory ! \_A loud cry within. VOICE OF ^EGISTHUS. Help, help, alas ! CHORUS. Ho there, ho ! how is't within 1 Is't done ? is't over ? Stand we here aloof While it is wrought, that guiltless we may seem Of this dark deed ; with death is strife fulfilled. [Enter a Slave, SLAVE. O woe, woe, my lord is done to death ! Woe, woe, and woe again, ^Egisthus gone ! Hasten, fling wide the doors, unloose the bolts Of the queen's chamber. for some young strength To match the need ! but aid availeth nought THE LIBATION-BEARERS. To him laid low for ever. Help, help, help ! Sure to deaf ears I shout, and call in vain To slumber ineffectual. What ho ! The queen ! how fareth Cly temnestra's self ? Her neck too, hers, is close upon the steel, And soon shall sink, hewn thro' as justice wills. [Enter Clytcmnestra. CLYTEMNESTBA. What ails thee, raising this ado for us ? SLAVE. I say the dead are come to slay the living. CLYTEMNESTRA. Alack, I read thy riddles all too clear We slew by craft and by like craft shall die. Swift, bring the axe that slew my lord of old ; I'll know anon or death or victory So stands the curse, so I confront it here. [Enter Orestes, his sword dropping with blood. ORESTES. Thee too I seek : for hiraTvvhat's done will serve. CLYTEMNESTRA. Woe, woe ! ^Egisthus, spouse and champion, slain ! ORESTES. What, lov'st the man ? then in his grave lie down, Be his in death, desert him nevermore ! CLYTEMXESTRA. Stay, child, and fear to strike. son, this breast THE LIBATION- BEARERS. 123 Pillowed thine head full oft, while, drowsed with sleep, Thy toothless inouth drew rnother's-milk from me. ORESTES. Can I my mother spare ? speak, Pylades. PYLADES. Where then would fall the hest Apollo gave At Delphi, where the solemn compact sworn 1 Choose thou the hate of all men, not of gods. ORESTES. Thou dost prevail ; I hold thy counsel good. [20 Clytemnestra* Follow ; I will to slay thee at his side. With him whom in his life thou lovedst more Than Agamemnon, sleep in death, the meed For hate where love, and love where hate was due ! CLYTEMNESTRA. I nursed thee young ; must I forego mine eld 1 ORESTES. Thou slew'st my father ; shalt thou dwell with me ? CLYTEMNESTRA. Fate bore a share in these things, my child ! Fate also doth provide this doom for thee. CLYTEMNESTRA. Beware, child, a parent's dying curse. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. ORESTES. A parent who did cast me out to ill ! CLYTEMXESTRA. Not cast thee out, but to a friendly home. ORESTES. Born free, I was by twofold bargain sold. CLYTEMXESTRA. Where then the price that I received for thee ? ORESTES. The price of shame ; I taunt thee not more plainly. CLYTEMXESTRA. Nay, but recount thy father's lewdness too. ORESTES. Home-keeping, chide not him who toils without. CLYTEMXESTRA. Tis hard for wives to live as widows, child. ORESTES. The absent husband toils for them at home. CLYTEMXESTRA. Thou growest fain to slay thy mother, child. ORESTES. Nay, 'tis thyself wilt slay thyself, not I. CLYTEMNESTRA. Beware thy mother's vengeful hounds from hell. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 125 ORESTES. How shall I scape my father's, sparing thee ? CLYTEMNESTRA. Living, I cry as to a tomb, unheard. ORESTES. My father's fate ordains this doom for thee. CLYTEMNESTRA. Ah me this snake it was I bore and nursed. ORESTES. Ay, right prophetic was thy visioned fear. Shameful thy deed was die the death of shame. [Exit, driving Clytemnestra before him. CHORUS. Lo, even for these I mourn, a double death : Yet since Orestes, driven on by doom, Thus crowns the height of murders manifold, I say, 'tis well that not in night and death Should sink the eye and light of this our home. There came on Priam's race and name A vengeance ; though it tarried long, With heavy doom it came. Came, too, on Agamemnon's hall A lion-pair, twin swordsmen strong. And last, the heritage doth fall To him, to whom from Pythian cave 126 THE LIBATION-BEARERS. The god his deepest counsel gave. Cry out, rejoice ! our kingly hall Hath 'scaped from ruin ne'er again Its ancient wealth be wasted all By two usurpers, sin-defiled An evil path of woe and bane ! On him who dealt the dastard blow Comes Craft, Revenge's scheming child. And hand in hand with him doth go, Eager for fight, The child of Zeus, whom men below Call Justice, naming her aright. And on the foe her breath Is as the blast of death ; For her the god who dwells in deep recess Beneath Parnassus' brow, Summons with loud acclaim To rise, though late and lame, And come with craft that worketh righteousness. For even o'er Powers divine this law is strong Thou shall not serve the wrong. To that which ruleth heaven beseems it that we bow. Lo, freedom's light hath come ! Lo, now is rent away The grim and curbing bit that held us dumb. Up to the light, ye halls ! this many a day Too low on earth ye lay. And Time, the great Accomplisher, Shall cross the threshold, whensoe'er He choose with purging hand to cleanse The palace, driving all pollution thence. And fair the cast of Fortune's die Before our state's new lords shall lie, THE LI DA TION- BE A RERS. Not as of old, but bringing fairer doom. Lo, freedom's light hath come ! [ The scene opens, disclosing Orestes standing over the corpses of sEgisthus and Clytemnestra ; in one hand he holds his su>ord, in the other the robe in which Agamemnon was entangled and slain. ORESTES. There lies our country's twofold tyranny, My father's slayers, spoilers of my home. Erst were they royal, sitting on the throne, And loving are they yet, their common fate Tells the tale truly, shows their trothplight firm. They swore to work mine ill-starred father's death, They swore to die together ; 'tis fulfilled. ye who stand, this great doom's witnesses, Behold this too, the dark device which bound My sire unhappy to his death, behold The mesh which trapped his hands, enwound his feet ! Stand round, unfold it 'tis the trammel-net That wrapped a chieftain ; hold it that he see, The father not my sire, but he whose eye Is judge of all things, the all-seeing Sun ! Let him behold my mother's damned deed, Then let him stand, when need shall be to me, Witness that justly I have sought and slain My mother ; blameless was yEgisthus' doom He died the death law bids adulterers die. But she who plotted this accursed thing To slay her lord, by whom she bare beneath Her girdle once the burden of her babes, Beloved erewhile, now turned to hateful foes What deem ye of her ? or what venomed thing, 128 THE LIBATION -BEARERS. Sea-snake or adder, had more power than she To poison with a touch the flesh unscarred ? So great her daring, such her impious will. How name her, if I may not speak a curse ? A lion-springe ? a laver's swathing cloth, Wrapping a dead man, twining round his feet A net, a trammel, an entangling robe ? Such were the weapon of some strangling thief, The terror of the road, a cut-purse hound With such device full many might he kill, Full oft exult in heat of villainy. Ne'er have my house so cursed an indweller Heaven send me, rather, childless to be slain ? CHORUS. Woe for each desperate deed ! Woe for the queen, with shame of life bereft ! And ah, for him who still is left, Madness, dark blossom of a bloody seed ! Did she the deed or not ? this robe gives proof, Imbrued with blood that bathed ^Egisthus' sword : Look, how the spurted stain combines with time To blur the many dyes that once adorned Its pattern manifold ! I now stand here, Made glad, made sad with blood, exulting, wailing- Hear, thou woven web that slew my sire ! I grieve for deed and death and all my home Victor, pollution's damned stain for prize. CHORUS. Alas, that none of mortal men Can pass his life untouched by pain ! THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 129 Behold, one woe is here Another loometh near. ORESTES. Hark ye and learn for what the end shall be For me I know not : breaking from the curb My spirit whirls me off, a conquered prey, Borne as a charioteer by steeds distraught Far from the course, and madness in my breast Burneth to chant its song, and leap, and rave Hark ye and learn, friends, ere my reason goes ! I say that rightfully I slew my mother, A thing God-scorned, that foully slew my sire. And chiefest wizard of the spell that bound me Unto this deed I name the Pythian seer Apollo, who foretold that if I slew, The guilt of murder done should pass from me ; But if I spared, the fate that should be mine I dare not blazon forth the bow of speech Can reach not to the mark, that doom to tell. And now behold me, how with branch and crown I pass, a suppliant made meet to go Unto Earth's midmost shrine, the holy ground Of Loxias, and that renowned light Of ever-burning fire, to 'scape the doom Of kindred murder : to no other shrine, So Loxias bade, may I for refuge turn. Bear witness, Argives, in the after time, How came on me this dread fatality. Living, I pass a banished wanderer hence, To leave in death the memory of this cry. CHORUS. Nay, but the deed is well ; link not thy lips 13 o THE LIBATION -BEARERS. To speech ill-starred, nor vent ill-boding words Who hast to Argos her full freedom given, Lopping two serpents' heads with timely blow. ORESTES. Look, look, alas ! Handmaidens, see what Gorgon shapes throng up ! Dusky their robes and all their hair enwound Snakes coiled with snakes off, off, I must away ! CHORUS. Most loyal of all sons unto thy sire, What visions thus distract thee ? Hold, abide ; Great was thy victory, and shalt thou fear ? ORESTES. These are no dreams, void shapes of haunting ill, But clear to sight my mother's hell-hounds come ! CHORUS. Nay, the fresh bloodshed still imbrues thine hands, And thence distraction sinks into thy soul. * King Apollo see, they swarm and throng Black blood of hatred dripping from their eyes ! CHORUS. One remedy thou hast ; go, touch the shrine Of Loxias, and rid thee of these woes. Ye can behold them not, but I behold them. Up and away ! I dare abide no more. [Exit. THE LIBATION-BEARERS. 13: CHORUS. Farewell then as thou mayst, the god thy friend Guard thee and aid with chances favouring. Behold, the storm of woe divine That raves and beats on Atreus' line Its great third blast hath blown. First was Thyestes' loathly woe The rueful feast of long ago, On children's flesh, unknown. And next the kingly chief's despite, When he who led the Greeks to fight Was in the bath hewn down. And now the offspring of the race Stands in the third, the saviour's place, To save or to consume ? O whither, ere it be fulfilled, Ere its fierce blast be hushed and stilled, Shall blow the wind of doom? [Exeunt. APPENDIX. THOSE unacquainted with the original of this play may yet possibly detect in the translation, here and there, something of an alien element alien, I mean, in a special degree, to the spirit of Greek tragedy. I may briefly explain to such readers the origin of this deficiency. The play is " confessedly the most difficult of the tragedies that have come down to us from Grecian antiquity" (Con., Choeph., Pref., p. i) ; and the difficulties are not, as elsewhere in ^Eschylus, mainly owing to a certain abruptness of style and profundity of thought. These qualities are abundantly present in this play ; but its difficulty is immensely increased by the condition of the text, which is mutilated in several places, and corrupt, beyond hope of certain restoration, in many others. The worst case of all is that of the chorus, 11. 784-837 ; where Conington suspects that the text of the MSS. has been " extensively tampered with, so as entirely to obliterate the original reading." But the same kind of obscurity besets the translator in many other passages. Let the reader imagine a person, well acquainted with French, dictating a play in that language to a scribe only partially acquainted with it able, that is, to spell any word that he recognizes, but unable to follow intelligently the thought of whole passages, un- less they are abundantly clear and very deliberately dictated ; let him imagine such a scribe losing the cue given by the metre or the "strophe," and copying words or syllables imperfectly heard; then let him imagine the result, as a piece of French literature, and he will have, mutatis mutandis, a fairly accurate idea of the condition, in several places, of the text of The Libation-Bearers. I would guard myself from giving an opinion that such is the origin of these famous corruptions. A knowledge of the conditions under which MSS. were transcribed, if accessible at all, is not so to me at this time. (I would, however, remark that Conington App. II, p. 166 to some extent endorses a friend's suggestion that dictation is the source of many corruptions in the Greek dramatists.) But my present i 34 APPENDIX. purpose is rather to explain the way in which this translation en- deavours to deal with the textual problem. In the first place, wherever, as in the opening speech, gaps of uncertain extent, of whole lines or paragraphs, are found or strongly suspected, no attempt has been made to supply them. Except as an exercise of private ingenuity, such attempts would be reprehensible in a translator, even if he possessed the ^schylean scholarship of Paley or Conington, and the genius and versification of Marlowe. Where, however, as in 1. 369, we know by the structure of the metre that only a few syllables are lost, the case is different. It seems idle to leave a vacant space in the English where the Greek is, by consideration of the context, pretty clear ; and in such cases I have followed the explanation, and sometimes translated the con- jecture, of Conington or others. Secondly, wherever, as in the chorus above specified, it is known, by metrical laws and by the unintelligible text, that the original has been in some way corrupted, I have followed a plan which may need excuse. To reproduce ^schylus in an unintelligible form is a sin against ^Eschylus himself. Whatever he may actually have written, one thing is certain ; it was intelligible, it was metrical. We may note, also, that in many places where the text is indubitably corrupt, ungrammatical and unmetrical, the thought and meaning are pretty clear. Such, e.g., is the case in 11, 415-417, oraty xaAi?. In such cases I have followed the apparent cue of the context, after con- sulting the best commentators, w^o? TO (pa>i?o-9ai /xot xatXw? is not ^schylus* Greek for "to the new dawn of gladness." But we know from the metre that the Greek is corrupt ; the words as they stand are probably a gloss, explaining, in inferior Greek, some metaphor representing hope or joy as a dawn a metaphor very familiar to all readers of ^schylus (cf. Agam. 11. 101, 253, 1182, etc.) very suitable to the context, and very closely indicated by the gloss. I do not conceive it to be any part of a translator's duty to render literally Greek words which are known, with absolute certainty, to be wrong. Yet to elucidate by means of the context and other comparisons, is, I am well aware, "a dim and perilous way." All I can say is that I have never done so except in three or four cases where it seemed absolutely inevitable ; and that, in those cases, care and pains have not been spared to do it as well as, to me, was possible. THE FURIES. DRAMATIS PERSONS. THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS. APOLLO. THE GHOST OP CLYTEMNESTRA. CHORUS OP FURIES. ATHENA. ATTENDANTS OP ATHENA. TWELVE ATHENIAN CITIZENS. The Scene of the Drama is the Temple of Apollo, at Delphi : after- wards, the Temple of Athena, on the Acropolis of Athens, and the adjoining Areopagus. THE FURIES. The Temple at Delphi. THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS. First in this prayer of all the gods I name The prophet-mother Earth; and Themis next, Second who sat for so with truth is said On this her mother's shrine oracular. Then by her grace, who unconstrained allowed, There sat thereon another child of Earth Titanian Phoebe. She, in after time, Gave o'er the throne, as birthgift to a god, Phoebus, who in his own bears Phoebe's name. He from the lake and ridge of Delos' isle Steered to the port of Pallas' Attic shores, The home of ships ; and thence he passed and came Unto this land and to Parnassus' shrine. And at his side, with awe revering him, There went the children of Hephaestus' seed, The hewers of the sacred way, who tame The stubborn tract that erst was wilderness. And all this folk and Delphos chieftain-king Of this their land with honour gave him home ; And in his breast Zeus set a prophet's soul, 138 THE FURIES. And gave to him this throne, whereon he sits, Fourth prophet of the shrine, and, Loxias hight, Gives voice to that which Zeus his sire decrees. Such gods I name in my preluding prayer, And after them, I call with honour due On Pallas, wardress of the fane, and Nymphs Who dwell around the rock Corycian, Where in the hollow cave, the wild birds' haunt, Wander the feet of lesser gods ; and there, Right well I know it, Bromian Bacchus dwells, Since he in godship led his Maenad host, Devising death for Pentheus, whom they rent Piecemeal, as hare among the hounds. And last, I call on Pleistus' springs, Poseidon's might, And Zeus most high, the great Accomplisher. Then as a seeress to the sacred chair I pass and sit ; and may the powers divine Make this mine entrance fruitful in response Beyond each former advent, triply blest. And if there stand without, from Hellas bound, Men seeking oracles, let each pass in In order of the lot, as use allows ; For the god guides whate'er my tongue proclaims. [She goes into the interior of the temple ; after a short interval, she returns in great fear. Things fell to speak of, fell for eyes to see, Have sped me forth again from Loxias' shrine, With strength unstrung, moving erect no more, But aiding with my hands my failing feet, Unnerved by fear. A beldame's force is naught- Is as a child's, when age and fear combine. For as I pace towards the inmost fane Bay-filleted by many a suppliant's hand, THE FURIES. 139 Lo, at the central altar I descry One crouching as for refuge yea, a man Abhorred of heaven ; and from his hands, wherein A sword new-drawn he holds, blood reeked and fell : A wand he bears, the olive's topmost bough, Twined as of purpose with a deep close tuft Of whitest wool. This, that I plainly saw, Plainly I tell. But lo, in front of him, Crouched on the altar-steps, a grisly band Of women slumbers not like women they, But Gorgons rather ; nay, that word is weak, Nor may I match the Gorgons' shape with theirs ! Such have I seen in painted semblance erst Winged Harpies, snatching food from Phineus' board, But these are wingless, black, and all their shape The eye's abomination to behold. Fell is the breath let none draw nigh to it Wherewith they snort in slumber ; from their eyes Exude the damned drops of poisonous ire : And such their garb as none should dare to bring To statues of the gods or homes of men. I wot not of the tribe wherefrom can come So fell a legion, nor in what land Earth Could rear, unharmed, such creatures, nor avow That she had travailed and had brought forth death. But, for the rest, be all these things a care Unto the mighty Loxias, the lord Of this our shrine : healer and prophet he, Discerner he of portents, and the cleanser Of other homes behold, his own to cleanse ! [ The scene opens, disclosing the interior of the temple : Orestes clings to the central altar ; the Furies lie slumbering at a little distance ; Apollo and Hermes appear from the innermost shrine. THE FURIES. APOLLO. Lo, I desert thee never : to the end, Hard at thy side as now, or sundered far, I am thy guard, and to thine enemies Implacably oppose me : look on them, These greedy fiends, beneath my craft subdued ! See, they are fallen on sleep, these beldames old, Unto whose grim and wizened maidenhood Nor god nor man nor beast can e'er draw near. Yea, evil were they born, for evil's doom, Evil the dark abyss of Tartarus Wherein they dwell, and they themselves the hate Of men on earth, and of Olympian gods. But thou, flee far and with unfaltering speed ; For they shall hunt thee through the mainland wide Where'er throughout the tract of travelled earth Thy foot may roam, and o'er and o'er the seas And island homes of men. Faint not nor fail, Too soon and timidly within thy breast Shepherding thoughts forlorn of this thy toil ; But unto Pallas' city go, and there Crouch at her shrine, and in thine arms enfold Her ancient image : there we well shall find Meet judges for this cause and suasive pleas, Skilled to contrive for thee deliverance From all this woe. Be such my pledge to thee, For by my hest thou didst thy mother slay. ORESTES. king Apollo, since right well thou know'st What justice bids, have heed, fulfil the same, Thy strength is all-sufficient to achieve. THE FURIES. APOLLO. Have thou too heed, nor let thy fear prevail Above thy will. And do ttuni guard him, Hermes, Whose blood is brother unto mine, whose sire The same high God. Men call thee guide and guard, Guide therefore thou and guard my suppliant ; For Zeus himself reveres the outlaw's right, Boon of fair escort, upon man conferred. [Exeunt Apollo, Hermes, and Orestes. The Ghost of Clytemnestra rises. GHOST OF CLYTEMNESTRA. Sleep on ! awake ! what skills your sleep to me Me, among all the dead by you dishonoured Me from whom never, in the world of death, Dieth this curse, 'Tts she who smote and sleu>, And shamed and scorned I roam ? Awake, and hear My plaint of dead men's hate intolerable. Me, sternly slain by them that should have loved, Me doth no god arouse him to avenge, Hewn down in blood by matricidal hands. Mark ye these wounds from which the heart's blood ran, And by whose hand, bethink ye ! for the sense When shut in sleep hath then the spirit-sight, But in the day the inward eye is blind. List, ye who drank so oft with lapping tongue The wineless draught by me outpoured to soothe Your vengeful ire ! how oft on kindled shrine I laid the feast of darkness, at the hour Abhorred of every god but you alone ! Lo, all my service trampled down and scorned ! And he hath baulked your chase, as stag the hounds ; Yea, lightly bounding from the circling toils, Hath wried his face in scorn, and flieth far. 142 THE FURIES. Awake and hear for mine own soul I cry Awake, ye powers of hell ! the wandering ghost That once was Clytemnestra calls Arise. \_The Furies mutter grimly, as in a dream. Mutter and murmur ! He hath flown afar My kin have gods to guard them, I have none ! \The Furies mutter as before. drowsed in sleep too deep to heed my pain ! Orestes flies, who me, his mother, slew. [ The Furies give a confused cry. Yelping, and drowsed again ? Up and be doing That which alone is yours, the deed of hell ! [ The Furies give another cry. Lo, sleep and toil, the sworn confederates, Have quelled your dragon-anger, once so fell ! THE FURIES (muttering more fiercely and loudly}. Seize, seize, seize, seize mark, yonder ! GHOST. In dreams ye chase a prey, and like some hound, That even in sleep doth ply his woodland toil, Ye bell and bay. What do ye, sleeping here ? Be not o'ercome with toil, nor, sleep-subdued, Be heedless of my wrong. Up ! thrill your heart With the just chidings of my tongue, such words Are as a spur to purpose firmly held. Blow forth on him the breath of wrath and blood, Scorch him with reek of fire that burns in you, Waste him with new pursuit swift, hound him down. \Ghost sinks. FIRST FURY (awaking). Up ! rouse another as I rouse thee ; up ! THE FURIES. Sleep'st thou ? Rise up, and spurning sleep away, See we if false to us this prelude rang. CHORUS OF FURIES. Alack, alack, sisters, we have toiled, much and vainly have we toiled and borne ! Vainly ! and all we wrought the gods have foiled, And turned us to scorn ! He hath slipped from the net, whom we chased : he hath 'scaped us who should be our prey O'ermastered by slumber we sank, and our quarry hath stolen away ! Thou, child of the high God Zeus, Apollo, hast robbed us and wronged ; Thou, a youth, hast down-trodden the right that to godship more ancient belonged ; Thou hast cherished thy suppliant man ; the slayer, the God-forsaken, The bane of a parent, by craft from out of our grasp thou hast taken ; A god, thou hast stolen from xis the avengers a matricide son And who shall consider thy deed and say // is rightfully done? The sound of chiding scorn Came from the land of dream ; Deep to mine inmost heart I felt it thrill and bum, Thrust as a strong-grasped goad, to urge Onward the chariot's team. Thrilled, chilled with bitter inward pain I stand as one beneath the doomsman's scourge. Shame on the younger gods who tread down right, Sitting on thrones of might ! THE FURIES. Woe on the altar of earth's central fane ! Clotted on step and shrine, Behold, the guilt of blood, the ghastly stain ! Woe upon thee, Apollo ! uncontrolled, Unbidden, hast thou, prophet-god, imbrued The pure prophetic shrine with wrongful blood ! For thou too heinous a respect didst hold Of man, too little heed of powers divine ! And us the Fates, the ancients of the earth, Didst deem as nothing worth. Scornful to me thou art, yet shalt not fend My wrath from him ; though unto hell he flee, There too are we ! And he the blood-defiled, should feel and rue, Though I were not, fiend-wrath that shall not end, Descending on his head who foully slew. \Re-enter Apollo from the inner shrine. APOLLO. Out ! I command you. Out from this my home Haste, tarry not ! Out from the mystic shrine, Lest thy lot be to take into thy breast * The winged bright dart that from my golden string Speeds hissing as a snake, lest, pierced and thrilled With agony, thou shouldst spew forth again Black frothy heart's-blood, drawn from mortal men, Belching the gory clots sucked forth from wounds. These be no halls where such as you can. prowl Go where men lay on men the doom of blood, * It may be well to explain that a chorus is, in this play as elsewhere, spoken of in the singular or the plural, indifferently, The singular is perhaps addressed to the leader, as representative of the rest ; but no difference is to be found in the application of such speeches, whether the singular or the plural be used. THE FURIES. 145 Heads lopped from necks, eyes from their spheres plucked out, Hacked flesh, the flower of youthful seed crushed out, Feet hewn away, and hands, and death beneath The smiting stone, low moans and piteous Of men impaled Hark, hear ye for what feast Ye hanker ever, and the loathing gods Do spit upon your craving ? Lo, your shape Is all too fitted to your greed ; the cave Where lurks some lion, lapping gore, were home More meet for you. Avaunt from sacred shrines, Nor bring pollution by your touch on all That nears you. Hence ! and roam unshepherded No god there is to tend such herd as you. CHORUS. king Apollo, in our turn hear us. Thou hast not only part in these ill things, But art chief cause and doer of the same. APOLLO. How ? stretch thy speech to tell this, and have done. CHORUS. Thine oracle bade this man slay his mother. APOLLO. 1 bade him quit his sire's death, wherefore not? CHORUS. Then didst thou aid and guard red-handed crime. APOLLO. Yea, and I bade him to this temple flee. L I 4 6 THE FURIES. CHORUS. And yet forsooth dost chide us following him ! APOLLO. Ay not for you it is, to near this fane. CHORUS. Yet is such office ours, imposed by fate. APOLLO. What office ? vaunt the thing ye deem so fair. CHORUS. From home to home we chase the matricide. APOLLO. What 1 to avenge a wife who slays her lord ? CHORUS. That is not blood outpoured by kindred hands. APOLLO. How darkly ye dishonour and annul The troth to which the high accomplishers, Hera and Zeus, do honour. Yea, and thus Is Aphrodite to dishonour cast, The queen of rapture xmto mortal men. Know, that above the marriage-bed ordained For man and woman standeth Right as guard, Enhancing sanctity of troth-plight sworn ; Therefore, if thou art placable to those' Who have their consort slain, nor will'st to turn On them the eye of wrath, unjust art thou In hounding to his doom the man who slew THE FURIES. 147 His mother. Lo, I know thee full of wrath Against one deed, but all too placable Unto the other, minishing the crime. But in this cause shall Pallas guard the right. CHORUS. Deem not my quest shall ever quit that man. APOLLO. Follow then, make thee double toil in vain. CHORUS. Think not by speech mine office to curtail. APOLLO. None hast thou, that I would accept of thee ! CHORUS. Yea, high thine honour by the throne of Zeus : But I, drawn on by scent of mother's blood, Seek vengeance on this man and hound him down. APOLLO. But I will stand beside him ; 'tis for me To guard my suppliant : gods and men alike Do dread the curse of such an one betrayed, And in me Fear and Will say Leave him not. \Exeunt omnes. TJie scene changes to Athens. In the foreground, the temple of Athena on the Acropolis ; her statue stands in the centre; Orestes is seen clinging to it. ORESTES. Look on me, queen Athena ; lo, I come By Loxias' behest ; thou of thy grace I4 8 THE FURIES. Receive me, driven of avenging powers Not now a red-hand slayer unannealed, But with guilt fading, half-effaced, outworn On many homes and paths of mortal men. For to the limit of each land, each sea, I roamed, obedient to Apollo's hest, And come at last, Goddess, to thy fane, And clinging to thine image, bide my doom. \Enter the Chorus of Furies, questing like hounds. CHORUS. Ho ! clear is here the trace of him we seek : Follow the track of blood, the silent sign ! Like to some hound that hunts a wounded fawn, We snuff along the scent of dripping gore, And inwardly we pant, for many a day Toiling in chase that shall fordo the man ; For o'er and o'er the wide land have I ranged, And o'er the wide sea, flying without wings, Swift as a sail I pressed upon his track, Who now hard by is crouching, well I wot, For scent of mortal blood allures me here. Follow, seek him round and round Scent and snuff and scan the ground, Lest unharmed he slip away, He who did his mother slay ! Hist he is there ! See him his arms entwine Around the image of the maid divine Thus aided, for the deed he wrought Unto the judgment wills he to be brought. It may not be ! a mother's blood poured forth Upon the stained earth THE FURIES. 149 None gathers up : it lies bear witness, Hell ! For aye indelible ! And thou who sheddest it shalt give thine own That shedding to atone ! Yea, from thy living limbs I suck it out, Red, clotted, gout by gout, A draught abhorred of men and gods ; but I Will drain it, suck thee dry ; Yea, I will waste thee living, nerve and vein ; Yea, for thy mother slain, Will drag thee downward, there where thou shalt dree The weird of agony ! And thou and whosoe'er of men hath sinned Hath wronged or God, or friend, Or parent, learn ye how to all and each The arm of doom can reach ! Sternly requiteth, in the world beneath, The judgment-seat of Death ; Yea, Death, beholding every man's endeavour, Recordeth it for ever. ORESTES. I, schooled in many miseries, have learnt How many refuges of cleansing shrines There be ; I know when law alloweth speech And when imposeth silence. Lo, I stand Fixed now to speak, for he whose word is wise Commands the same. Look, how the stain of blood Is dull upon mine hand and wastes away, And laved and lost therewith is the deep curse Of matricide ; for while the guilt was new, 'Twas banished from me at Apollo's hearth, Atoned and purified by death of swine. Long were my word if I should sum the tale, THE FURIES. How oft since then among my fellow-men I stood and brought no curse. Time cleanses all Time, the coeval of all things that are. Now from pure lips, in words of omen fair, I call Athena, lady of this land, To come, my champion : so, in aftertime. She shall not fail of love and service leal, Not won by war, from me and from my land And all the folk of Argos, vowed to her. Now, be she far away in Libyan land Where flows from Triton's lake her natal wave, Stand she with planted feet,* or in some hour Of rest conceal them, champion of her friends Where'er she be, or whether o'er the plain Phlegrsean she look forth, as warrior bold I cry to her to come, where'er she be, (And she, as goddess, from afar can hear,) And aid and free me, set among my foes. CHORUS. Thee not Apollo nor Athena's strength Can save from perishing, a castaway Amid the Lost, where no delight shall meet Thy soul a bloodless prey of nether powers, A shadow among shadows. Answerest thou Nothing ? dost cast away my words with scorn, Thou, prey prepared and dedicate to me ? Not as a victim slain upon the shrine, But living shalt thou see thy flesh my food. Hear now the binding chant that makes thee mine. Weave the weird dance, behold the hour To utter forth the chant of hell, * The allusion is probably to statues of Athena at rest and in motion. cf. i Kings, xviii, 27. THE FURIES. Our sway among mankind to tell, The guidance of our power. Of Justice are we ministers, And whosoe'er of men may stand Lifting a pure unsullied hand, That man no doom of ours incurs, And walks thro' all his mortal path Untouched by woe, unharmed by wrath. But if, as yonder man, he hath Blood-dropping hands he strives to hide, We stand avengers at his side, Decreeing, Thou hast wronged the dead: We are doonfs witnesses to thee. The price of blood, his hands have shed, We wring from him ; in life, in death, Hard at his side are we ! Night, Mother Night, who brought me forth, a torment To living men and dead, Hear me, hear ! by Leto's stripling son I am dishonoured : He hath ta'en from me him who cowers in refuge, To me made consecrate, A rightful victim, him who slew his mother, Given o'er to me and fate. Hear the hymn of hell, O'er the victim sounding, Chant of frenzy, chant of ill, Sense and will confounding ! Round the soul entwining Without lute or lyre Soul in madness pining, Wasting as with fire ! THE FURIES. Fate, all-pervading Fate, this service spun, commanding That I should bide therein : Whosoe'er of mortals, made perverse and lawless, Is stained with blood of kin, By his side are we, and hunt him ever onward, Till to the Silent Land, The realm of death, he cometh ; neither yonder In freedom shall he stand. Hear the hymn of hell, O'er the victim sounding, Chant of frenzy, chant of ill, Sense and will confounding ! Round the soul entwining Without lute or lyre Soul in madness pining, Wasting as with fire ! When from womb of Night we sprang, on us this labour Was laid and shall abide. Gods immortal are ye, yet beware ye touch not That which is our pride ! None may come beside us gathered round the blood-feast For us no garments white Gleam on a festal day ; for us a darker fate is, Another darker rite. That is mine hour when falls an ancient line When in the household's heart The God of blood doth slay by kindred hands, Then do we bear our part : On him who slays we sweep with chasing cry : Though he be triply strong, We wear and waste him ; blood atones for blood, New pain for ancient wrong. THE FURIES. 153 I hold this task 'tis mine, and not another's. The very gods on high, Though they can silence and annul the prayers Of those who on us cry, They may not strive with us who stand apart, A race by Zeus abhorred, Blood-boltered, held unworthy of the council And converse of Heaven's lord. Therefore the more I leap upou my prey ; Upon their head I bound ; My foot is hard ; as one that trips a runner I cast them to the ground ; Yea, to the depth of doom intolerable ; And they who erst were great, And upon earth held high their pride and glory, Are brought to low estate. In underworld they waste and are diminished, The while around them fleet Dark wavings of my robes, and, subtly woven, The paces of my feet. Who falls infatuate, he sees not neither knows he That we are at his side ; So closely round about him, darkly flitting, The cloud of guilt doth glide. Heavily 'tis uttered, how around his hearthstone The mirk of hell doth rise. Stern and fixed the law is ; we have hands t' achieve it, Cunning to devise. Queens are we and mindful of our solemn vengeance ; Not by tear or prayer Shall a man avert it. In unhonoured darkness, Far from gods, we fare, Lit unto our task with torch of sunless regions, And o'er a deadly way I54 THE FURIES. Deadly to the living as to those who see not Life and light of day Hunt we and press onward. Who of mortals hearing Doth not quake for awe, Hearing all that Fate thro' hand of God hath given us For ordinance and law 1 Yea, this right to us, in dark abysm and backward Of ages it befel : None shall wrong mine office, tho' in nether regions And sunless dark I dwell. \Enter Athena from aboi'e. ATHENA. Far off I heard the clamour of your cry, As by Seaman der's side I set my foot Asserting right upon the land given o'er To me by those who o'er Achaia's host Held sway and leadership : no scanty part Of all they won by spear and sword, to me They gave it, land and all that grew thereon, As chosen heirloom for my Theseus' clan. Thence summoned, sped I with a tireless foot, Hummed on the wind, instead of wings, the fold Of this mine segis, by my feet propelled, As, linked to mettled horses, speeds a car. And now, beholding here eai-th's nether brood, I fear it nought, yet are mine eyes amazed With wonder. Who are ye ? of all I ask, And of this stranger to my statue clinging. But ye your shape is like no human form, Like to no goddess whom the gods behold, Like to no shape which mortal women wear. Yet to stand by and chide a monstrous form Is all unjust from such words Right revolts. THE FURIES. 155 CHORUS. child of Zeus, one word shall tell thee all. We are the children of eternal Night, And Furies in the underworld are called. ATHENA. 1 know your lineage now and eke your name. CHORUS. Yea, and eftsoons indeed my rights shalt know. ATHENA. Fain would I learn them ; speak them clearly forth. CHORUS. We chase from home the murderers of men. ATHENA. And where at last can he that slew make pause ? CHORUS. Where this is law All joy abandon here, ATHENA. Say, do ye bay this man to such a flight ? CHORUS. Yea, for of choice he did his mother slay. ATHENA. Urged by no fear of other wrath and doom ? CHORUS. What spur can rightly goad to matricide ? ATHENA. Two stand to plead one only have I heard. CHORUS. He will not swear nor challenge us to oath. IS 6 THE FURIES. ATHENA. The form of justice, not its deed, thou wiliest. CHORUS. Prove thou that word ; thou art not scant of skill. ATHENA. I say that oaths shall not enforce the wrong. CHORUS. Then test the cause, judge and award the right. ATHENA. Will ye to me then this decision trust ? CHORUS. Yea, reverencing true child of worthy sire. ATHENA (to Orestes). man unknown, make thou thy plea in turn ; Speak forth thy land, thy lineage, and thy woes ; Then, if thou canst, avert this bitter blame If, as I deem, in confidence of right Thou sittest hard beside my holy place, Clasping this statue, as Ixion sat, A sacred suppliant for Zeus to cleanse, To all this answer me in words made plain. queen Athena, first from thy last words Will I a great solicitude remove. Not one blood-guilty am I ; no foul stain Clings to thine image from my clinging hand ; Whereof one potent proof I have to tell. Lo the law stands The slayer shall not plead, Till by the hand of him who cleanses blood THE FURIES. 157 A suckling creatures blood besprinkle him. Long since have I this expiation done, In many a home, slain beasts and running streams Have cleansed me. Thus I speak away that fear. Next, of my lineage quickly thou shalt learn : An Argive am I, and right well thou know'st My sire, that Agamemnon who arrayed The fleet and them that went therein to war That chief with whom thy hand combined to crush To an uncitied heap what once was Troy ; That Agamemnon, when he homeward came, Was brought unto no honourable death, Slain by the dark-souled wife who brought me forth To him, enwound and slain in wily nets, Blazoned with blood that in the 1 aver ran. And I, returning from an exiled youth, Slew her, my mother lo, it stands avowed With blood for blood avenging my loved sire ; And in this deed doth Loxias bear part, Decreeing agonies, to goad my will, Unless by me the guilty found their doom. Do thou decide if right or wrong were done Thy dooming, whatsoe'er it be, contents me. ATHENA. Toe mighty is this matter, whosoe'er Of mortals claims to judge hereof aright. Yea, me, even me, eternal Right forbids To judge the issues of blood-guilt, and wrath That follows swift behind. This too gives pause, That thou as one with all due rites performed Dost come, unsinning, pure, unto my shrine. Whate'er thou art, in this my city's name, As uncondemned, I take thee to my side. IS 8 THE FURIES. Yet have these foes of thine such dues by fate, I may not banish them : and if they fail, O'erthrown in judgment of the cause, forthwith Their anger's poison shall infect the land A dropping plague-spot of eternal ill. Thus stand we with a woe on either hand Stay they, or go at my commandment forth, Perplexity or pain must needs befal. Yet, as on me Fate hath imposed the cause, I choose unto me judges that shall be An ordinance for ever, set to rule The dues of blood-guilt, upon oath declared. But ye, call forth your witness and your proof, Words strong for justice, fortified by oath ; And I, whoe'er are truest in my town, Them will I choose and bring, and straitly charge, Look on this cause, discriminating well, And pledge your oath to utter nought of wrong. [Exit Athena. CHORUS. Now are they all undone, the ancient laws, If here the slayer's cause Prevail ; new wrong for ancient right shall be, If matricide go free. Henceforth a deed like his by all shall stand, Too ready to the hand : Too oft shall parents in the aftertime Rue and lament this crime, Taught, not in false imagining, to feel Their children's thrusting steel : No more the wrath, that erst on murder fell From us, the Queens of Hell, THE FURIES. 159 Shall fall, no more our watching gaze impend Death shall smite unrestrained. Henceforth shall one unto another cry Lo, they are stricken, lo, they fall and die Around me ! and that other answers him, O thou that lookest that thy woes should cease, Behold, with dark increase They throng and press upon thee ; yea, and dim Is all the cure, and every comfort vain! Let none henceforth cry out, when falls the blow Of sudden-smiting woe, Cry out in sad reiterated strain O Justice, aid! aid, O ye thrones of Hell ! So though a father or a mother wail New-smitten by a son, it shall no more avail, Since, overthrown by wrong, the fane of Justice fell ! Know, that a throne there is that may not pass away, And one that sitteth on it even Fear, Searching with steadfast eyes man's inner soul : Wisdom is child of pain, and born with many a tear ; But who henceforth, What man of mortal men, what nation upon earth, That holdeth nought in awe nor in the light Of inner reverence, shall worship Right As in the older day ? Praise not, man, the life beyond control, Nor that which bows unto a tyrant's sway. Know that the middle way Is dearest unto God, and they, thereon who wend, They shall achieve the end ; But they who wander or to left or right Are sinners in his sight j6o THE FURIES. Take to thy heart this one, this soothfast word Of wantonness impiety is sire ; Only from calm control and sanity unstirred Cometh true weal, the goal of every man's desire. Yea, whatsoe'er befal, hold thou this word of mine : Bout down at Justice 1 shrine, Turn thou thine eyes away from earthly lure, Nor with a godless foot that altar spurn. For as thou dost shall Fate do in return, And the great doom is sure. Therefore let each adore a parent's trust, And each with loyalty revere the guest That in his halls doth rest. For whoso uncompelled doth follow what is just, He ne'er shall be unblest ; Yea, never to the gulf of doom That man shall come. But he whose will is set against the gods, Who treads beyond' the law with foot impure, Till, o'er the wreck of right, confusion broods, Know that for him, though now he sail secure, The day of storm shall be ; then shall he strive and fail Down from the shivered yard to furl the sail, And call on Powers, that heed him nought, to save, And vainly wrestle with the whirling wave. Hot was his heart with pride 1 shall not fall, he cried. But him with watching scorn The god beholds, forlorn, Tangled in toils of Fate beyond escape, Hopeless of haven safe beyond the cape Till all his wealth and bliss of bygone day THE FURIES. 161 Upon the reef of Rightful Doom is hurled, And he is rapt away Unwept, for ever, to the dead forgotten world. {Re-enter Athena, with twelve Athenian citizens. ATHENA. herald, make proclaim, bid all men come. Then let the shrill blast of the Tyrrhene trump, Fulfilled with mortal breath, thro' the wide air Peal a loud summons, bidding all men heed. For, till my judges fill this j \idgment-seat, Silence behoves, that this whole city learn, What for all time mine ordinance commands, And this man, that his cause be judged aright. \Apollo approaches. , CHORUS. king Apollo, rule what is thine own, But in this thing what right hast thou to claim ? APOLLO. First, as a witness come I, for this man Is suppliant of mine by sacred right, Guest of my holy hearth and cleansed by me Of blood-guilt : then, to set me at his side . And in his cause bear part, as part I bore Erst in his deed, whereby his mother fell. Let whoso knoweth now announce the cause. ATHENA (to the Chorus). 'Tis I announce the cause first speech be yours ; For rightfully shall they whose plaint is tried Tell the tale first and set the matter clear. THE FURIES. CHORUS. Though we be many, brief shall be our tale. (To Orestes) Answer thou, setting word to match with word; And first avow hast thou thy mother slain ? I slew her. I deny no word hereof. CHORUS. Three falls decide the wrestle this is one. ORESTES. Thou vauntest thee but o'er no final fall. CHORUS. Yet must thou tell the manner of thy deed. ORESTES. Drawn sword in hand, I gashed her neck. 'Tis told. CHORUS. But by whose word, whose craft, wert thou impelled ? ORESTES. By oracles of him who here attests me. CHORUS. The prophet-god bade thee thy mother slay ? Yea, and thro 5 him not ill I fared, till now. CHORUS. If the vote grip thee, thou shalt change that word. THE FURIES. 163 ORESTES. Strong is my hope ; my buried sire shall aid. CHORUS. Go to now, trust the dead, a matricide ! ORESTES. Yea, for in her combined two stains of sin. CHORUS. How ? speak this clearly to the judges' mind. ORESTES. Slaying her husband, she did slay my sire. CHORUS. Therefore thou livest ; death assoils her deed. ORESTES. Then while she lived why didst thou hunt her not ? CHORUS. She was not kin by blood to him she slew. ORESTES. And I, am I by blood my mother's kin ? CHORUS. cursed with murder's guilt, how else wert thou The burden of her womb ? Dost thou forswear Thy mother's kinship, closest bond of love ? ORESTES. It is thine hour, Apollo speak the law, Avei-ring if this deed were justly done ; THE FURIES. For done it is, and clear and undenied. But if to thee this murder's cause seem right Or wrongful, speak that I to these may tell. APOLLO. To you, Athena's mighty council-court, Justly for justice will I plead, even I, The prophet-god, nor cheat you by one word. For never spake I from my prophet-seat One word, of man, of woman, or of state, Save what the Father of Olympian gods Commanded unto me. I rede you then, Bethink you of my plea, how strong it stands, And follow the decree of Zeus our sire, For oaths prevail not over Zeus' command. CHORUS. Go to ; thou sayest that from Zeus befel The oracle that this Orestes bade With vengeance quit the slaying of his sire, And hold as nought his mother's right of kin ! APOLLO. Yea, for it stands not with a common death, That he should die, a chieftain and a king Decked with the sceptre which high heaven confers - Die, and by female hands, not smitten down By a far-shooting bow, held stalwartly By some strong Amazon. Another doom Was his : Pallas, hear, and ye who sit In judgment, to discern this thing aright ! She with a specious voice of welcome true Hailed him, returning from the mighty mart Where war for life gives fame, triumphant home ; THE FURIES. 165 Then o'er the laver, as he bathed himself, She spread from head to foot a covering net, And in the endless mesh of cunning robes Enwound and trapped her lord, and smote him down. Lo, ye have heard what doom this chieftain met, The majesty of Greece, the fleet's high lord : Such as I tell it, let it gall your ears, Who stand as judges to decide this cause. CHORUS. Zeus, as thou sayest, holds a father's death As first of crimes, yet he of his own act Cast into chains his father, Cronos old, How suits that deed with that which now ye tell ? ye who judge, I bid ye mark my words ! APOLLO. monsters loathed of all, scorn of gods, He that hath bound may loose : a cure there is, Yea, many a plan that can unbind the chain. But when the thirsty dust sucks up man's blood Once shed in death, he shall arise no more. No chant nor charm for this my Sire hath wrought. All else there is, he moulds and shifts at will, Not scant of strength nor breath, whate'er he do. CHORUS. Think yet, for what acquittal thou dost plead : He who hath shed a mother's kindred blood, Shall he in Argos dwell, where dwelt his sire ? How shall he stand before the city's shrines, How share the clansmen's holy lustral bowl ? THE FURIES. APOLLO. This too I answer ; mark a soothfast word. Not the true parent is the woman's womb That bears the child ; she doth but nurse the seed New-sown : the male is parent ; she for him, As stranger for a stranger, hoards the germ Of life, unless the god its promise blight. And proof hereof before you will I set. Birth may from fathers, without mothers, be : See at your side a witness of the same, Athena, daughter of Olympian Zeus, Never within the darkness of the womb Fostered nor fashioned, but a bud more bright Than any goddess in her breast might bear. And I, Pallas, howsoe'er I may, Henceforth will glorify thy town, thy clan, And for this end have sent my suppliant here Unto thy shrine ; that he from this time forth Be loyal unto thee for evermore, goddess-queen, and thou unto thy side Mayst win and hold him faithful, and his line, And that for aye this pledge and troth remain To children's children of Athenian seed. ATHENA. Enough is said ; I bid the judges now With pure intent deliver just award. CHORUS. We too have shot our every shaft of speech, And now abide to hear the doom of law. ATHENA (to the Chorus}. Say, how ordaining shall I 'scape your blame? THE FURIES. 167 CHORUS. I spake, ye heard ; enough. stranger men, Heed well your oath as ye decide the cause. ATHENA. men of Athens, ye who first do judge The law of bloodshed, hear me now ordain, Here to all time for ^Egeus' Attic host * Shall stand this council-court of judges sworn, Here the tribunal, set on Ares' Hill Where camped of old the tented Amazons, What time in hate of Theseus they assailed Athens, and set against her citadel A counterwork of new sky-pointing towers, And there to Ares held their sacrifice, Where now the rock hath name, even Ares' Hill. And hence shall Reverence and her kinsman Fear Pass to each free man's heart, by day and night Enjoining, Thou shalt do no unjust thing ; So long as law stands as it stood of old Unruarred by civic change. Look you, the spring Is pure ; but foul it once with influx vile And muddy clay, and none can drink thereof. Therefore, citizens, I bid ye bow In awe to this command, Let no man live Uncurbed by law nor curbed by tyranny ; Nor banish ye the monarchy of Awe Beyond the walls ; untouched by fear divine, No man doth justice in the world of men. Therefore in purity and holy dread Stand and revere ; so shall ye have and hold A saving bulwark of the state and land, * See Appendix. THE FURIES. Such as no man hath ever elsewhere known, Nor in far Scythia, nor in Pelops' realm. Thus I ordain it now, a council-court Pure and unsullied by the lust of gain, Sacred and swift to vengeance, wakeful ever To champion men who sleep, the country's guard. Thus have I spoken, thus to mine own clan Commended it for ever. Ye who judge, Arise take each his vote, mete out the right, Your oath revering. Lo, my word is said. \The twelve judges come forward, one by one, to the urns of decision ; the first votes ; as each of the others follows, the Chorus and Apollo speak alternately. CHORUS. I rede ye well, beware ! nor put to shame, In aught, this grievous company of hell. APOLLO. I too would warn you, fear mine oracles From Zeus they are, nor make them void of fruit. CHORUS. Presumptuous is thy claim, blood-guilt to judge, And false henceforth thine oracles shall be. APOLLO. Failed then the counsels of my sire, when turned Ixion, first of slayers, to his side ? CHORUS. These are but words ; but I, if justice fail me, Will haunt this land in grim and deadly deed. THE FURIES. 169 APOLLO. Scorn of the younger and the elder gods Art thou : 'tis I that shall prevail anon. CHORUS. Thus didst thou too of old in Pheres' halls, O'erreaching Fate to make a mortal deathless. APOLLO. Was it not well, my worshipper to aid, Then most of all when hardest was the need ? CHORUS. I say thou didst annul the lots of life, Cheating with wine the deities of eld. APOLLO. I say thou shalt anon, thy pleadings foiled, Spit venom vainly on thine enemies. CHORUS. Since this young god o'errides mine ancient right I tarry but to claim your law, not knowing If wrath of mine shall blast your state or spare. ATHENA. Mine is the right to add the final vote, And I award it to Orestes' cause. For me no mother bore within her womb, And, save for wedlock evermore eschewed, I vouch myself the champion of the man, Not of the woman, yea, with all my soul, In heart, as birth, a father's child alone. Thus will I not too heinously regard A woman's death who did her husband slay, I70 THE FURIES. The guardian of her home ; and if the votes Equal do fall, Orestes shall prevail. Ye of the judges who are named thereto, Swiftly shake forth the lots from either urn. [ Two judges come forward^ one to each urn. ORESTES. bright Apollo, what shall be the end ? CHORUS. Night, dark mother mine, dost mark these things ? ORESTES. Now shall my doom be life, or strangling cords. CHORUS. And mine, lost honour or a wider sway. APOLLO. stranger judges, sum aright the count Of votes cast forth, and, parting them, take heed Ye err not in decision. The default Of one vote only bringeth ruin deep, One, cast aright, may stablish house and home. ATHENA. Behold, this man is free from guilt of blood, For half the votes condemn him, half set free ! ORESTES. Pallas, light and safety of my home, Thou, thou hast given me back to dwell once more In that my fatherland, amerced of which 1 wandered ; now shall Grecian lips say this, THE FURIES. 171 The man is Argive once again, and dwells Again within his fathers' wealthy hall, By Pallas saved, by Loxias, and by Him, The great third saviour, Zeus omnipotent Who thus in pity for my father's fate Doth pluck me from my doom, beholding these, Confederates of my mother. Lo, I pass To mine own land, but proffering this vow To thine and to thy people : Nevermore, Thro' all the manifold years of Time to be, Shall any chieftain of mine Argive land Bear hitherward his spears for fight arrayed. For we, though lapped in earth we then shall lie, By thwart adversities will work our will On them who shall transgress this oath of mine, Paths of despair and joumeyings ill-starred For them ordaining, till their task they rue. But if this oath be rightly kept, to them Will we the dead be full of grace, the while With loyal league they honour Pallas' town. And now farewell, thou and thy city's folk Firm be thine arms' grasp, closing with thy foes, And, strong to save, bring victory to thy spear. [Exit Orestes, with Apollo. CHORUS. Woe on you, younger gods ! the ancient right Ye have o'erridden, rent it from my hands. I am dishonoured of you, thrust to scorn ! But heavily my wrath Shall on this land fling forth the drops that blast and burn, Venofia^pf vengeance, that shall work such scathe As I have suffered ; where that dew shall fall, Shall leafless blight arise, I 7 2 THE FURIES. Wasting Earth's offspring, Justice, hear my call !- And thorough all the land in deadly wise Shall scatter venom, to exude again In pestilence on men. What cry avails me now, what deed of blood, Unto this land what dark despite ? Alack, alack, forlorn Are we, a bitter injury have borne, Alack, sisters, dishonoured brood Of mother Night ! ATHENA. Nay, bow ye to my words, chafe not nor moan : Ye are not worsted nor disgraced ; behold, With balanced vote the cause had issue fair, Nor in the end did aught dishonour thee. But thus the will of Zeus shone clearly forth, And his own prophet-god avouched the same, Orestes slew : Ms slaying is atoned. Therefore I pray you, not upon this land Shoot forth the dart of vengeance ; be appeased, Nor blast the land with blight, nor loose thereon Drops of eternal venom, direful darts Wasting and marring nature's seed of growth. For I, the queen of Athens' sacred right, Do pledge to you a holy sanctuary Deep in the heart of this my land, made just By your indwelling presence, while ye sit Hard by your sacred shrines that gleam with oil Of sacrifice, and by this folk adored. CHORUS. Woe on you, younger gods ! the ancient right Ye have o'erridden, rent it from my hands. THE FURIES. i 7S I am dishonoured of you, thrust to scorn ! But heavily my wrath Shall on his land fling forth the drops that blast and burn, Venom of vengeance, that shall work such scathe As I have suffered ; where that dew shall fall, Shall leafless blight arise, Wasting Earth's offspring, Jxistice, hear my call ! And thorough all the land in deadly wise Shall scatter venom, to exude again In pestilence on men. What cry avails me now, what deed of blood, Unto this land, what dark despite ? Alack, alack, forlorn Are we, a bitter injury have borne, Alack, sisters, dishonoured brood Of mother Night ! ATHENA. Dishonoured are ye not; tuna not, I pray, As goddesses your swelling wrath on men, Nor make the friendly earth despiteful to them. I too have Zeus for champion tis enough I only of all goddesses do know To ope the chamber where his thunderbolts Lie stored and sealed ; but here is no such need. Nay, be appeased, nor cast upon the ground The malice of thy tongue, to blast the world ; Calm thou thy bitter wrath's black inward surge, For high shall be thine honour, set beside me For ever in this land, whose fertile lap Shall pour its teeming firstfruits unto you, Gifts for fair childbirth and for wedlock's crown : Thus honoured, praise my spoken pledge for aye. THE FURIES. CHORUS. I, I dishonoured in this earth to dwell, Ancient of days and wisdom ! I breathe forth Poison and breath of frenzied ire. Earth, Woe, woe for thee, for me ! From side to side what pains be these that thrill ? Hearken, mother Night, my wrath, mine agony ! Whom from mine ancient rights the gods have thrust, And brought me to the dust Woe, woe is me ! with craft invincible. ATHENA. Older art thou than I, and I will bear With this thy fury. Know, although thou be More wise in ancient wisdom, yet have I From Zeus no scanted measure of the same. Wherefore take heed unto this prophecy If to another land of alien men Ye go, too late shall ye feel longing deep For mine. The rolling tides of time bring round A day of brighter glory for this town ; And thou, enshrined in honour by the halls Where dwelt Erechtheus, shalt a worship win From men and from the train of womankind, Greater than any tribe elsewhere shall pay. Cast thou not therefore on this soil of mine Whetstones that sharpen souls to bloodshedding, The burning goads of youthful hearts, made hot With frenzy of the spirit, not of wine. Nor pluck as 'twere the heart from cocks that strive, To set it in the breast of citizens Of mine, a war-god's spirit, keen for fight, Made stern against their country and their kin. THE FURIES. 175 The man who grievously doth lust for fame, War, full, immitigable, let him wage Against the stranger ; but of kindred birds I hold the challenge hateful. Such the boon I proffer thee within this land of lands, Most loved of gods, with me to show and share Fair mercy, gratitude and grace as fair. CHORUS. I, I dishonoured in this earth to dwell, Ancient of days and wisdom ! I breathe forth Poison and breath of frenzied ire. Earth, Woe, woe for thee, for me ! From side to side what pains be these that thrill ? Hearken, mother Night, my wrath, mine agony ! Whom from mine ancient rights the gods have thrust, And brought me to the dust Woe, woe is me ! with craft invincible. ATHENA. I will not weary of soft words to thee, That never mayst thou say, Behold me spurned, An elder by a younger deity, And from this land rejected and forlorn, Unhonoured by the men who divell therein. But, if Persuasion's grace be sacred to thee, Soft in the soothing accents of my tongue, Tarry, I pray thee ; yet, if go thou wilt, Not rightfully wilt thou on this my town Sway down the scale that beareth wrath and teen Or wasting plague upon this folk. 'Tis thine, If so thou wilt, inheritress to be Of this my land, its utmost grace to win. I7 6 THE FURIES. CHORUS. O queen, what refuge dost thou promise me ? ATHENA. Refuge untouched by bale : take thou my boon. CHORUS. What, if I take it, shall mine honour be ? ATHENA. No house shall prosper without grace of thine. CHORUS. Canst thou achieve and grant such power to me ? ATHENA. Yea, for my hand shall bless thy worshippers. CHORUS. And wilt thou pledge me this for time eterne ? ATHENA. Yea : none can bid me pledge beyond my power. CHORUS. Lo, I desist from wrath, appeased by thee. ATHENA. Then in the land's heart shalt thou win thee friends. CHORUS. What chant dost bid me raise, to greet the land ? ATHENA. Such as aspires towards a victory Unrued by any : chants from breast of earth, THE FURIES. 177 From wave, from sky ; and let the wild winds' breath Pass with soft sunlight o'er the lap of land, Strong wax the fruits of earth, fair teem the kine, Unfailing, for my town's prosperity, And constant be the growth of mortal seed. But more and more root out the impious, For as a gardener fosters what he sows, So foster I this race, whom righteousness Doth fend from sorrow. Such the proffered boon. But I, if wars must be, and their loud clash And carnage, for my town, will ne'er endure That aught but victory shall crown her fame. CHORUS. Lo, I accept it ; at her very side Doth Pallas bid me dwell : I will not wrong the city of her pride, Which even Almighty Zeus and Ares hold Heaven's earthly citadel, Loved home of Grecian gods, the young, the old, The sanctuary divine, The shield of every shrine ! For Athens I say forth a gracious prophecy, The glory of the sunlight and the skies Shall bid from earth arise, Warm wavelets of new life and glad prosperity. ATHENA. Behold, with gracious heart well pleased I for my citizens do grant Fulfilment of this covenant : And here, their wrath at length appeased, These mighty deities shall stay. I 7 8 THE FURIES. For theirs it is by right to sway The lot that rules our mortal day, And he who hath not inly felt Their stern decree, ere long on him, Not knowing why and whence, the grim Life-crushing blow is dealt. The father's sin vipon the child Descends, and sin is silent death, And leads him on the downward path, By stealth beguiled, Unto the Furies : though his state On earth -were high, and loud his boast, Victim of silent ire and hate He dwells among the Lost. CHORUS. To my blessing now give ear. Scorching blight nor singed air * Never blast thine olives fair ! Drouth, that wasteth bud and plant, Keep to thine own place. Avaunt, Famine fell, and come not hither Stealthily to waste and wither ! Let the land, in season due, Twice her waxing fruits renew ; Teem the kine in double measure ; Rich in new god-given treasure, Here let men the powers adore For sudden gifts unhoped before ! ATHENA. hearken, warders of the wall That guards mine Athens, what a dower * See Milton, Comus, 1. 938. THE FURIES. 179 Is unto her ordained and given ! For mighty is the Furies' power, And deep-revered in courts of heaven And realms of hell ; and clear to all They weave thy doom, mortality ! And some in joy and peace shall sing ; But unto other some they bring Sad life and tear-dimmed eye. CHORUS. And far away I ban thee and remove, Untimely death of youths too soon brought low ! And to each maid, gods, when time is come for love, Grant ye a warrior's heart, a wedded life to know. Ye too, Fates ! children of mother Night Whose children too are we, goddesses Of just award, of all by sacred right Queens, who in time and in eternity Do rule, a present power for righteousness, Honoured beyond all Gods, hear ye and grant my cry ! ATHENA. And I too, I with joy am fain, Hearing thy voice this gift ordain Unto my land. High thanks be thine, Persuasion, who with eyes divine Into my tongue didst look thy strength, To bend and to allay at length Those who would not be comforted. Zeus, king of parley, doth prevail, And ye and I will strive nor fail, That good may stand in evil's stead, And lasting bliss for bale. THE FURIES. CHORUS. And nevermore these walls within Shall echo fierce sedition's din, Unslaked with blood and crime ; The thirsty dust shall nevermore Suck up the darkly streaming gore Of civic broils, shed out in wrath And vengeance, crying death for death ! But man with man and state with state Shall vow The pledge of common hate And common friendship, that for man Hath oft made blessing out of ban, Be ours unto all time* ATHENA. Skill they, or not, the path to find Of favouring speech and presage kind 1 Yea, even from these, who, grim and stern, Glared anger upon you of old, citizens, ye now shall earn A recompense right manifold. Deck them aright, extol them high, Be loyal to their loyalty, And ye shall make your town and land Sure, propped on Justice' saving hand, And Fame's eternity. CHORUS. Hail ye, all hail ! and yet again, all hail, Athens, happy in a weal secured ! * The allusion is to the customary Hellenic formula for offensive and defensive alliances " We will hold the same friends and the same foes." THE FURIES. 181 ye who sit by Zeus' right hand, nor fail Of wisdom set among yon and assured, Loved of the well-loved Goddess-Maid ! the King Of gods doth reverence you, beneath her guarding wing. ATHENA. All hail unto each honoured guest ! Whom to the chambers of your rest 'Tis mine to lead, and to provide The hallowed torch, the guard and guide. Pass down, the while these altars glow With sacred fire, to earth below And your appointed shrine. There dwelling, from the land restrain The force of fate, the breath of bane, But waft on us the gift and gain Of Victory divine ! And ye, the men of Cranaos' seed, I bid ye now with reverence lead These alien Powers that thus are made Athenian evermore. To you Fair be their will henceforth, to do Whate'er may bless and aid ! CHORUS. Hail to you all ! hail yet again, All who love Athens, Gods and men, Adoring her as Pallas' home ! And while ye reverence what ye grant My sacred shrine and hidden haunt Blameless and blissful be your doom ! x8 2 THE FURIES. ATHENA. Once more I praise the promise of your vows, And now I bid the golden torches' glow Pass down before you to the hidden depth Of earth, by mine own sacred servants borne, My loyal guards of statue and of shrine. Come forth, flower of Theseus' Attic land, glorious band of children and of wives, And ye, train of matrons crowned with eld ! Deck you with festal robes of scarlet dye In honour of this day : gleaming torch, Lead onward, that these gracious powers of earth Henceforth be seen to bless the life of men. [Athena leads the procession downwards into the Cave of the Furies, under Areopagus : as they go, the escort of women and children chant aloud. CHANT. With loyalty we lead you ; proudly go, Night's childless children, to your home below ! (O citizens, awhile from words forbear!) To darkness' deep primeval lair, Far in Earth's bosom, downward fare, Adored with prayer and sacrifice. (O citizens, forbear your cries /) Pass hitherward, ye powers of Dread, With all your former wrath allayed, Into the heart of this loved land ; With joy unto your temple wend, The while upon your steps attend The flames that feed upon the brand (Now, now ring out your chant, your joy's acclaim /) Behind them, as they downward fare, THE FURIES. 183 Let holy hands libations bear, And torches' sacred flame. All-seeing Zeus and Fate come down To battle fair for Pallas' town ! Ring out your chant, ring out your joy's acclaim ! [Exeunt omnes.] APPENDIX. Eumenides, II. 650-676, p. 167. IT cannot be necessary to remind any scholar who may read the foregoing translation, of the historical interest that attaches to this passage, and, indeed, to the whole conclusion of The Furies. A mere reference to Grote's " History of Greece " (Vol. IV., ch. 46), to Muller's " Dissertation on the Eumenides," and Oncken's "Athen und Hellas," will suffice to recall a vexed literary and historical problem, and the conflict of doctors who disagree. But those unacquainted with the literature and politics of ancient Greece (and for such, of course, this translation is mainly intended) will hardly fail to have recognized, in the last part of the concluding drama, a definitely political and patriotic fervour which the legend of the House of Atreus seems hardly calculated to arouse. The cause of Orestes is decided in his favour ; but it is impossible to feel that the theatrical interest of the drama is concentrated, as might be expected, on his acquittal : it has been shifted to the Tribunal of Areopagus, before which he is tried, and thence to the destiny of the Athenian race and its dependence on celestial and terrestrial deities. The general explanation of this political turn and complexion given to the play is simple enough ; the details are involved in great obscurity : and the precise attitude of ^Eschylus' mind to the politics of the day remains uncertain. The Senate of Areopagus was at this time the object of a considerable popular jealousy. Of immemorial antiquity, and strengthened by the memory of its courage and patriotism at the time of the Persian invasion, it either had, or was believed to have, become oligarchical in its opinions and corrupt in its practice. Grote perhaps overstates the case against the Areopagus; and, in any case, his argument that, because the senate at Sparta was corrupt, that at Athens must have been so as well (Hist. IV., p. 105), should be received with caution. But there is every reason to trust his conclusion that the Areopagus, consisting almost entirely of ex- ministers, and claiming large judicial, censorial, and revisionary i86 APPENDIX. powers a claim based on undefined prescription rather than on positive law was a tribunal very unlikely to satisfy an expanding and restless democracy. Justly or unjustly, such a popular feeling arose against it, and culminated in a measure passed, after much resistance, by Ephialtes and Pericles, leaders of the popular party by which the Areopagus was deprived of all its vague and comprehensive powers, and retained only the jurisdiction over homicide. This it was allowed to retain, not only on political, but also on religious grounds; in Grote's words, "the cognizance which it took of intentional homicide was a part of old Attic religion." It might appear that the whole tenor of The Furies is to glorify the Areopagus in its hour of trial; and, consequently, that the political leaning of ^schylus, in this point at any rate, is obvious. Such a conclusion is, to some extent, fortified by Aristophanes' sketch of ^schylus, in the Frogs, as a stalwart champion and representative of old ideas. On the other hand, it is plausibly urged that The Furies only glorifies the Areopagus as a tribunal for homicide, which function was expressly retained for it by Ephialtes and Pericles ; that the policy of an alliance with Argos, unmistakably commended towards the close of the play, was a Periclean policy : in short, the /Eschylus is advocating, or cordially acquiescing in, the Periclean ideas. It is even suggested that his opposition is directed against a certain re- actionary innovation, so to speak, by which obsolete privileges of the Areopagus were to be revived, and that the close of The Furies is in reality an exhortation to all to be content with the high though limited jurisdiction left to the Areopagus, over matters of homicide. There is here, it is plain, a literary and historical problem of considerable complexity, with which I do not think myself competent to deal. I will only hazard two opinions, of a negative kind. First, that the text of The Furies, however closely scanned, is not decisive enough in its allusions to enable us to measure the angle of ^schylus' political views with exactness. The solution of the problem must be sought elsewhere, if indeed it be soluble. Secondly, that it is an error to treat the political references of a poet as the responsible utterances of a political leader; to demand the same consistency, or the same defence for inconsistency, from the former as from the latter. APPENDIX. 187 Men's attitude of mind towards policy or institutions, secular or religious, comes under the cognizance of a poet and thinker long before it develops into a political force, or presents any point, of support or resistance, to a politician. From the speculative stand- point, a change, e.g., may be seen to be salutary or necessary, but the motives for which it is popularly demanded, base or dangerous. (No better illustration of this can be found, perhaps, than in Coleridge's Table Talk, and his attitude of mind towards reform, etc.) It is for party-leaders, like Ephialtes and Pericles, to deal strenuously and practically with the problems and forces of the hour; it is for ^Eschylus, as for Plato, to point independently to the wide scope, for good or for evil, opened up by political and judicial changes, or by a league with Argos. Printed by Warren & Son, High Street, Winchester.