IDEALS IN 
 GREEK LITERATURE 
 
 MLLIAM CRANSTON LAWTON 
 
 CHAUTAUQUA 
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Ideals in Greek 
 Literature 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM CRANSTON LAWTON 
 
 OF ADELPHl COLLEGE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "INTRODUCTION TO GREEK LITERATURE," 
 "ART AND HUMANITY IN HOMER," ETC. 
 
 tC^lie CJ^autauqua l^ttsi^ 
 
 CHAUTAUQUA, N. Y. 
 
 MCMV 
 
REA0JR6 ROOM 
 
 Copyright, igoiP 
 
 BT 
 
 THE POPULAR EDUCATION PUBLISHING 
 COMPANY 
 
 DONNBIXBV St SONS COMPANY 
 CHICAGO 
 

 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGB 
 
 Preface - - - - -. - v 
 
 General Bibliography - - - - vii 
 
 I. The Older Iliad: 
 
 Comradeship in Strife. Achilles and Patro- 
 clus. Sarpedon and.GIaucus. - - i 
 
 II. Later Additions to the Iliad: 
 
 Family Ties. Hector and Andromache. Priam's 
 Grief for Hector. - - - - 17 
 
 III. The Odyssey: 
 
 Home Love. The Return of Odysseus. - 32 
 
 IV. Hesiod's Works and Days: 
 
 Rustic Thrift. - - - - - 43 
 
 V. Lyric Poetry: - - - - - 51 
 
 VI. ^schylus and the Prometheus: 
 
 The Heroism of Endurance. - - - 64 
 
 VII. Sophocles and the Antigone: 
 
 Human Law vs. Divine Ordinance. - - 102 
 
 VIII. Euripides and the Alcestis: 
 
 The Glory of Self-Sacrifice. - - - 139 
 
 IX. Aristophanes' Clouds: 
 
 Ridicule as a Moral Weapon. - - - 173 
 
 X. Herodotus: 
 
 The Battle of Salamis. - - - - 203 
 
 XI. Thucydides: 
 
 The Periclean Funeral Oration, • - - 212 
 
 217935 
 
iv Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XII. The Platonic Socrates: 
 
 An Apostle of Righteousness. - - - 221 
 
 XIII. Demosthenes on the Crown: 
 
 An Ideal of Civic Patriotism. . - . 237 
 
 XIV. Sicilian Idylls of Theocritus: 
 
 The Poetry of Rustic Life. - - . 346 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The present volume undertakes to set directly before 
 the student a series of masterpieces which, ever since 
 their creation, have appealed powerfully to lovers of art 
 and truth. When interest in the best works has been 
 aroused, more detailed study becomes a delight. The 
 materials for such study are indicated quite copiously in 
 the notes at the close of each chapter. Meantime, only 
 what has seemed absolutely necessary in the way of 
 general introduction and elucidation has been offered. 
 
 In the classical Greek literature, from the **IHad'* to 
 Moschos's lament for Bion, there is felt a certain unity, 
 for in it is reflected, and idealized, the life of one remark- 
 able people. The Greeks had already taken possession of 
 the shores and islands of the ^gean sea at least three 
 thousand years ago. This excitable, jealous, often cruel, 
 but wonderfully gifted type of man appears from the first 
 fully conscious of his diversity from the surrounding ** bar- 
 barians. " The Hellenes were the most artistic of races; 
 most sensitive to harmony, whether in form, color, music, 
 or action. In art-forms they are the teachers of all later 
 men. The Hebrew has led the world toward spiritual 
 abstractions, the Roman pointed the way to a stable civic 
 organism, but in joyous unfolding of the individual sensu- 
 ous life no man, not even the Florentine, has ever rivalled 
 the fifth century Athenian, the typical Greek. 
 
 It is not easy for us to understand him. Our sense of 
 artistic beauty is but half-developed. Our sturdy, reticent. 
 
VI Preface 
 
 practical individualism is remote from his. Yet from him 
 can best be learned a delightful lesson, the fullest enjoy- 
 ment of all beauty in nature or art. The ethical quality, 
 the moral purpose, is not always prominent. That it is 
 usually present, nevertheless, our selections should demon- 
 strate. 
 
GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 The largest survey of Greek literature in English is 
 the work, in four volumes, of the learned, genial, erratic, 
 pugnacious Professor Mahaffy; the smallest, but one of 
 the very best accounts is the primer of Professor Jebb. 
 Neither contains much citation from the Greek authors. 
 The series of small volumes published, in America, by 
 Lippincott, called '* Ancient Classics for EngUsh Read- 
 ers," treats each great writer singly and quite fully, with 
 large quotations. J. A. Symonds' ** Greek Poets'* is too 
 verbose, but very suggestive, and contains much fine 
 translation. The views of the present author are most 
 fully set forth in his ** Introduction to Classical Greek 
 Literature," Scribners, 1 903. 
 
 For thorough further study two of the first requisites 
 are a good classical atlas like Kiepert's, and a poHtical 
 history of Greece, preferably the monumental work of 
 Grote, or the more recent and somewhat less voluminous 
 Holm, in German original or English translation. For 
 mythology an adequate book in English hke Decharme's 
 *'Mythologie de la Grece Antique" is sadly needed. Of 
 the many school manuals based on Bulfinch's antiquated 
 **Age of Fable" the best are Gayley's ^'Classical Myths 
 in English Literature" and Guerber's "Myths of Greece 
 and Rome." The best general reference book is prob- 
 ably Harper's ** Classical Dictionary of Literature and 
 Antiquities." All these should be contained in any 
 respectable city library. The solitary reader will usually 
 
viii General Bibliography 
 
 find them too expensive. He should at least possess one 
 small volume of political Greek history, such as the read- 
 able manuals of Bury, Oman, and Botsford, the last of 
 which also contains sufficiently good maps. The history 
 of the plastic arts illuminates the story of literature, 
 and happily Professor Tarbell's excellent little book, **A 
 History of Greek Art, ' ' will be in the hands of all Chau- 
 tauqua students. 
 
 Most essential, however, is the perusal of complete 
 masterpieces in literary EngHsh versions. These will be 
 quite copiously catalogued under the several authors. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 THE OLDER ILIAD 
 
 Comradeship in Strife. Achilles and Patroclus. Sarpedon 
 and Glaucus. 
 
 The ''Iliad, " a splendid epic poem in 15,000 hex- 
 ameter verses, had apparently approached essentially its 
 present form as early as the ninth century B.C., and 
 exerted a dominant influence on all later writers. The 
 poet claims to be inspired by the Muses, and to sing of a 
 remote foretime quite unlike his own day. The greatest 
 gods mingle freely in mortal strife, and even their coun- 
 cils, on the summit of snow-capt Mount Olympus, are 
 fully reported. The human heroes are often half divine 
 in parentage. 
 
 Nearly or quite the whole Greek race appears in the 
 poem as united under the empire of the selfish and vacil- 
 lating Agamemnon. The jealous princes, the haughty 
 nobility, the abject folk, all obey him. In the struggle to 
 restore his sister-in-law, Helen, to her rightful husband 
 Menelaus, all the clans have for the last ten years been 
 encamped in Asia, on the Trojan plain, quite ignorant of 
 whatever has befallen in their homes. The utter destruc- 
 tion of Troy, involved in the sin of the wilful young Trojan 
 prince, Paris, who has run away with Helen, is often fore- 
 shadowed. 
 
 The ''Iliad " does not directly describe the beginning 
 nor the end of the long contest, but only a brief episode 
 
 I 
 
2 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 in the tenth year of the war. The hero is a demi-god, 
 Achilles. His mother, the sea-nymph Thetis, most lovely 
 of goddesses, though beloved by Zeus and other high 
 gods, was wedded to a mortal because her son was fated 
 to be mightier than his sire. During the war he has been 
 the leader in a score of forays, supporting and enriching 
 the whole camp by his booty. Yet Agamemnon wrests 
 from Achilles by violence his chief prize, the lovely prin- 
 cess Briseis, who was to have become her captor's lawful 
 wife and queen. 
 
 Achilles fiercely refuses to fight longer for a chieftain 
 who commits the very sin he had led forth all Greece to 
 avenge. While the Greek champion sulks in his cabin, 
 prince Hector leads the Trojans to victory, sets fire to the 
 fleet on the shore, and threatens the Greeks with utter 
 destruction. 
 
 But Achilles has one gentler side. He cannot wholly 
 resist the pleadings of his best-beloved comrade, the 
 tender-hearted Patroclus. Reluctantly he lends his armor 
 to his friend, bidding him not to pursue the Trojans into 
 the open plain. Patroclus rashly disobeys, and is eventu- 
 ally slain by Hector. Then Achilles, as Dante says, 
 
 '* fought, at the last, for love," 
 
 and ended his feud with Agamemnon that he might avenge 
 his friend by slaying the thrice-hated Hector. 
 
 With Hector's funeral, the poem, even in its present 
 form, abruptly ends; 
 
 "Thus was a tomb made ready for Hector the tamer of 
 horses." 
 
 But, as Mr. Grote has remarked, it is not now a mere 
 Achilleid, as we should expect from the opening line : 
 
The Older Iliad 3 
 
 "Sing, oh goddess, the wrath of Achilles, offspring of 
 Peleus.'* 
 
 Rather, by insertion of manifold episodes, it has grown to 
 be an **Iiiad" indeed: a picture of the whole war about 
 Ilios or Troy. Most scholars agree that these insertions 
 have been made by various hands, probably through many 
 decades. But the character and fate of Patroclus is essen- 
 tial to the main action. His death cuts the knot, and 
 must have been part of the original scheme. 
 
 Whether the events of the *' Iliad" had any realistic 
 basis can never be known. The excavations of Dr. Schhe- 
 mann and others have revealed ruins of a strong hill-fort 
 in the Trojan plain, of massive palaces or castles at 
 Mycenae, Agamemnon's capital, and at other points in 
 Greece. But no inscriptions or datable records are found. 
 The folk that built these fortresses were as little known to 
 Pericles' generation as to us. It may well be that they 
 were not Greeks at all. We naturally associate these 
 builders of real fortresses with the Homeric myth, but a 
 myth it remains. Superhuman forces, poetic imagina- 
 tion, are its very warp and woof. It must be studied as 
 an ideal work of art. 
 
 Yet the ** Iliad" is intensely human. Its men and 
 women are more real, and also more lovable, than its 
 divinities. To Greek minds, friendship between men was 
 a loftier impulse to noble deeds than love between man 
 and woman. Of that famihar tie, Achilles and Patroclus 
 formed the most inspiring example. In their companion- 
 ship, not in the love of Achilles for Briseis, much less the 
 wedded happiness of Hector and Andromache, the Greek 
 poet, and his hearers, saw the chief motive of the epic. 
 We may profitably, then, turn aside from the gory and 
 
4 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 sometimes wearisome battle-scenes, and endeavor to make 
 the more intimate acquaintance of the gentlest and most 
 lovable among Homer's heroes. 
 
 Patroclus is forced to sit idle through the earlier part 
 of the action, and is dead long before the end. Yet we 
 get more than one illuminating glimpse of his kindly 
 nature. The first is when Achilles, standing in unwel- 
 come inaction at his cabin door beside the Hellespont, 
 thinks he sees his friend, the physician Machaon, carried 
 off the field wounded by the venerable Nestor, and sends 
 Patroclus to make inquiry. So 
 
 Before the gate divine Patroclus stood: 
 The old man saw, and from his seat arose. 
 And took him by the hand, and led him in, 
 And bade him sit; but he, refusing, said: 
 *'No seat for me, thou venerable sire! 
 I must not stay, for he both awe and fear 
 Commands, who hither sent me to enquire 
 What wounded man thou hast. I need not ask, 
 I know Machaon well, his people's guard. 
 My errand done, I must my message bear 
 Back to Achilles, and thou know'st thyself. 
 Thou venerable sire, how stern his mood: 
 Nay sometimes blames he where no blame is due. " 
 
 To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied: 
 ''Whence comes Achilles' pity for the Greeks 
 By Trojan weapons wounded? Knows he not 
 What depth of suff'ring through the camp prevails? 
 How in the ships, by arrow or by spear 
 Sore wounded, all our best and bravest lie? 
 The valiant son of Tydeus, Diomed, 
 Pierced by a shaft; Ulysses by a spear, 
 And Agamemnon's self; Eurypylus 
 By a sharp arrow through the thigh transfixed; 
 And here another, whom I now but bring. 
 
The Older Iliad 5 
 
 Shot by a bow, from off the battlefield. 
 Achilles, valiant as he is, the while 
 For Grecian woes nor care nor pity feels. 
 Waits he, until our ships beside the sea. 
 In our despite, are burnt by hostile fires. 
 And we be singly slain?" 
 
 Nestor reminds Patroclus of the injunctions given him 
 when he and Achilles left their home. 
 
 ''Menoetius, Actor's son. 
 To thee this counsel gave: *My son,' he said, 
 'Achilles is by birth above thee far. 
 Thou art in years the elder; he in strength 
 Surpasses thee; do thou with prudent words 
 And timely speech address him, and advise 
 And guide him ; he will, to his good, obey. ' 
 **Such were the old man's words; but thou hast let 
 His counsel slip thy mem'ry; yet ev'n now 
 Speak to Achilles thus, and stir his soul, 
 If haply he will hear thee; and who knows 
 But by the grace of Heav'n thou mayst prevail? 
 For great is oft a friend's persuasive power. 
 But if the fear of evil prophesied. 
 Or message by his Goddess-mother brought 
 From Jove, restrain him, let him send thee forth 
 With all his force of warlike Myrmidons, ^ 
 That thou may'st be the saving force of Greece. 
 Then let him bid thee to the battle bear 
 His glitt'ring arms, if so the men of Troy, 
 Scar'd by his likeness, may forsake the field. 
 And breathing-time afford the sons of Greece, 
 Toil-worn; for little pause has yet been theirs. 
 Fresh and unwearied, ye with ease may drive 
 To their own city, from our ships and tents. 
 The Trojans, worn and battle- wearied men." 
 
 Thus he; Patroclus' spirit within him burn'd, 
 And tow'rd Achilles' tent in haste he sped, 
 1 The people and soldiery of Achilles. 
 
6 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Delayed by a task of mercy, binding up the wounds of 
 another Greek chieftain, Patroclus reaches Achilles's 
 cabin again but just before Hector's greatest triumph. 
 The Trojan prince has actually reached the Greek ships, 
 and set one of them on fire. 
 
 Thus round the well-mann'd ship they wag'd the war: 
 Meanwhile by Peleus' son Patroclus stood. 
 Weeping hot tears; as some dark-water'd fount 
 Pours o'er a craggy rock its gloomy stream; 
 Achilles, swift of foot, with pity saw. 
 And to his friend these wingM words addressed: 
 **Why weeps Patroclus, like an infant girl. 
 That prays her mother, by whose side she runs, 
 To take her up, and, clinging to her gown, 
 Impedes her way, and still with tearful eyes 
 Looks in her face, until she take her up? 
 Ev'n as that girl, Patroclus, such art thou, 
 Shedding soft tears. Hast thou some tidings brought 
 Touching the general weal, or me alone? 
 Or have some evil news from Phthia come, 
 Known but to thee? Menoetius, Actor's son. 
 Yet surely lives, and 'mid his Myrmidons 
 Lives aged Peleus, son of ^acus: 
 Their deaths indeed might well demand our tears: 
 Or weep'st thou for the Greeks, who round their ships 
 By death their former insolence repay? 
 Speak out, that I may know the cause of grief." 
 To whom, with bitter groans, Patroclus thus: 
 '*0 son of Peleus, noblest of the Greeks, 
 Achilles, be not wroth! such weight of woe 
 The Grecian camp oppresses; in their ships 
 They who were late their bravest and their best. 
 Sore wounded all by spear or arrow lie ; 
 For these, the large resources of their art 
 The leeches ply, and on their wounds attend; 
 While thou, Achilles, still- remain'st unmov'd. 
 
The Older Iliad 7 
 
 Oh, be it never mine to nurse such hate 
 
 As thou retain' St, inflexibly severe! 
 
 Who e'er may hope in future days by thee 
 
 To profit, if thou now forbear to save 
 
 The Greeks from shame and loss? Unfeehng man! 
 
 Sure Peleus, horseman brave, was ne'er thy sire. 
 
 Nor Thetis bore thee; from the cold grey sea 
 
 And craggy rocks thou hadst thy birth, so hard 
 
 And stubborn is thy soul. But if the fear 
 
 Of evil prophesied thyself restrain. 
 
 Or message by the Goddess-mother brought 
 
 From Jove, yet send me forth with all thy force 
 
 Of Myrmidons, to be the saving light 
 
 Of Greece, and let me to the battle bear 
 
 Thy glitt'ring arms, if so the men of Troy, 
 
 Scar'd by thy Hkeness, may forsake the field. 
 
 And breathing-time afford the sons of Greece, 
 
 Toil-worn," .... 
 
 ****** 
 
 Thus pray'd he, all unwisely, for the pray'r 
 He utter 'd to himself was fraught with death. 
 To whom much griev'd, Achilles swift of foot: 
 
 '*Heav'n-bom Patroclus, oh, what words are these! 
 Prophetic warnings move me not, though known; 
 Nor message hath my mother brought from Jove; 
 But it afflicts my soul, when one I see 
 That basely robs his equal of his prize. 
 His lawful prize, by highest valour won; 
 Such grief is mine, such wrong have I sustain'd. 
 Her, whom the sons of Greece on me bestow'd 
 Prize of my spear, the well-walled city ^ storm'd, 
 The mighty Agamemnon, Atreus' son. 
 Hath borne by force away, as from the hands 
 Of some dishonour'd, houseless vagabond. 
 But let the past be past; I never meant 
 My wrath should have no end; yet had not thought 
 
 1 Not, of course, Troy itself, but a lesser town. Achilles had made twenty- 
 three such successful forays, by land or sea. 
 
8 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 My anger to abate, till my own ships 
 
 Should hear tlie war-cry, and the battle bear. 
 
 But go, and in my well-known armor clad. 
 
 Lead forth the valiant Myrmidons to war, 
 
 Since the dark crowd of Trojans circles round 
 
 The ships in force; and on the shingly beach. 
 
 Pent up in narrow limits, lie the Greeks; 
 
 And all the city hath pour'd its numbers forth 
 
 In hope undoubting; for they see no more 
 
 My helm among them flashing; else in flight 
 
 Their dead would choke the streams, if but to me 
 
 Great Agamemnon bore a kindly mind: 
 
 But round the camp the battle now is wag'd 
 
 Nathless ^ do thou, Patroclus, in defence 
 
 Fall boldly on, lest they with blazing fire 
 
 Our ships destroy, and hinder our retreat. 
 
 But hear, and ponder well the end of all 
 
 I have to say, and so for me obtain 
 
 Honour and glory in the eyes of Greece; 
 
 And that the beauteous maiden to my arms 
 
 They may restore, with costly gifts to boot. 
 
 The ships relieved, return forthwith; and though 
 
 The Thund'rer, Juno's lord, should crown thine arms 
 
 With triumph, be not rash, apart from me. 
 
 To combat with the warlike sons of Troy; 
 
 (So should my name in less repute be held;) 
 
 Nor, in the keen excitement of the flight. 
 
 And slaughter of the Trojans, lead thy troops 
 
 On tow'rd the city, lest thou find thyself 
 
 By some one of th' immortal gods oppos'd.'* 
 
 We need not think Achilles really so jealous of his 
 friend's fame. Like Hamlet in his dying words to Hora- 
 tio, he may be merely choosing the strongest appeal to a 
 generous nature. 
 
 Patroclus, after many gallant exploits, is disarmed by 
 
 1 Nevertheless. 
 
The Older Iliad 9 
 
 the god Phoebus Apollo, wounded from behind by a cow- 
 ardly foeman, and finally falls helpless before Hector's 
 spear. His last word is the name of his friend. 
 
 *' Hector, thou boastest loudly now, that Jove, 
 
 With Phoebus join'd, hath thee with vict'ry crown'd: 
 
 They wrought my death who stripped me of my arms. 
 
 Had I to deal with twenty such as thee. 
 
 They all should perish, vanquish 'd by my spear: 
 
 Me fate hath slain, and Phoebus, and of men, 
 
 Euphorbus; thou wast but the third to strike. 
 
 This too I say, and bear it in thy mind; 
 
 Not long shalt thou survive me; death e'en now 
 
 And final doom hangs o'er thee, by the hand 
 
 Of great Achilles, Peleus' matchless son." 
 
 When the evil news reaches Achilles, his lovely mother 
 comes, with all her sister-nymphs, from the sea-caves to 
 console him. 
 
 There as he groan 'd aloud, beside him stood 
 His Goddess-mother; she, with bitter cry, 
 Clasp'd in her hands his head, and sorrowing spoke: 
 **Why weeps my son? and what his cause of grief.? 
 Speak out, and naught conceal; for all thy pray'r. 
 Which with uplifted hands thou mad'st to Jove, 
 He hath fulfilled; that, flying to their ships. 
 The routed sons of Greece should feel how much 
 They need thine aid, and deep disgrace endure." 
 
 To whom Achilles, deeply groaning, thus: 
 ** Mother, all this indeed hath Jove fulfilled; 
 Yet what avails it, since my dearest friend 
 Is slain, Patroclus? whom I honoured most 
 Of all my comrades, lov'd him as my soul. 
 Him have I lost; and Hector from his corpse 
 Hath stripp'd those arms, those weighty, beauteous arms, 
 A marvel to behold, which from the Gods 
 Peleu? received, a glorious gift, that day 
 
lo Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 When they consigned thee to a mortal's bed. 
 How better were it, if thy lot had been 
 Still 'mid the ocean deities to dwell, 
 And Peleus had espoused a mortal bride! 
 For now is bitter grief for thee in store. 
 Mourning thy son; whom to his home return'd 
 Thou never more shalt see; nor would I wish 
 To live, and move among my fellow-men, 
 Unless that Hector, vanquish'd by my spear. 
 May lose his forfeit life, and pay the price 
 Of foul dishonour to Patroclus done." 
 
 To whom, her tears o'erflowing, Thetis thus: 
 *'E'en as thou say'st, my son, thy term is short; 
 Nor long shall Hector's fate precede thine own." 
 
 Achilles, answ'ring, spoke in passionate grief: 
 *' Would I might die this hour, who fail'd to save 
 My comrade slain! far from his native land 
 He died, sore needing my protecting arm." 
 
 When Briseis is sent back by Agamemnon to her im- 
 perious lover, we get a new and unexpected sidelight on 
 Patroclus 's character. 
 
 Briseis, fair as golden Venus, saw 
 Patroclus lying, pierc'd with mortal wounds, 
 Within the tent; and with a bitter cry. 
 She flung her down upon the corpse, and tore 
 Her breast, her delicate neck, and beauteous cheeks; 
 And, weeping, thus the lovely woman wail'd: 
 ** Patroclus, dearly loved of this sad heart! 
 When last I left this tent, I left thee full 
 Of healthy life; returning now, I find • 
 
 Only thy lifeless corpse, thou prince of men! 
 So sorrow still, on sorrow heap'd, I bear. 
 The husband of my youth, to whom my sire 
 And honour'd mother gave me, I beheld 
 Slain with the sword before the city walls: 
 Three brothers, whom with me one mother bore, 
 
The Older Iliad 1 1 
 
 My dearly lov'd ones, all were doomed to death: 
 
 Nor wouldst thou, when Achilles swift of foot 
 
 My husband slew, and Mynes' town 
 
 In ruin laid, allow my tears to flow; 
 
 But thou wouldst make me (such was still thy speech) 
 
 The wedded wife of Peleus' godlike son: 
 
 Thou wouldst to Phthia bear me in thy ship. 
 
 And there, thyself, amid the Myrmidons, 
 
 Wouldst give my marriage feast. Then, unconsol'd, 
 
 I weep thy death, my ever-gentle friend!" 
 
 The purely martial scenes of the poem culminate in 
 the duel between the two greatest champions, which is 
 very fully described. Here again, as in Patroclus' un- 
 doing, divine trickery accomplishes more than human 
 prowess. Pallas Athene's resistless aid makes the Greek 
 the victor. 
 
 Even in the act of slaying Hector, Achilles insists that 
 he is wreaking vengeance for his friend's sake. 
 
 ** Hector, Patroclus stripping of his arms, 
 
 Thy hope was that thyself wast safe; and I, 
 
 Not present, brought no terror to thy soul: 
 
 Fool! in the hollow ships I yet remained, 
 
 I, his avenger, mightier far than he; 
 
 I, who am now thy conqu'ror. By the dogs 
 
 And vultures shall thy corpse be foully torn. 
 
 While him the Greeks with fun'ral rites shall grace." 
 
 In dreams Achilles and his dead friend are reunited. 
 In the long agony of his grief 
 
 .... On the many-dashing ocean's shore 
 PeHdes lay, amid his Myrmidons, 
 With bitter groans. In a clear space he lay. 
 Where broke the waves, continuous, on the beach. 
 There, circumfus'd about him, gentle sleep, 
 
12 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Lulling the sorrows of his heart to rest, 
 O'er came his senses; for the hot pursuit 
 Of Hector round the breezy heights of Troy 
 His active limbs had wearied. 
 
 As he slept, 
 Sudden appear 'd Patroclus' mournful shade, 
 His very self; his height and beauteous eyes. 
 And voice; the very garb he wont to wear. 
 Above his head it stood, and thus it spoke: 
 
 ** Sleep' St thou, Achilles, mindless of thy friend. 
 Neglecting, not the living, but the dead? 
 Hasten my fun'ral rites, that I may pass 
 Through Hades' gloomy gates. Ere these be done. 
 The spirits and spectres of departed men 
 Drive me far from them, nor allow to cross 
 Th' abhorred river; but forlorn and sad 
 I wander through the widespread realms of night. 
 And give me now thy hand, whereon to weep; 
 For never more, when laid upon the pyre. 
 Shall I return from Hades; never more. 
 Apart from all our comrades, shall we two, 
 As friends, sweet counsel take; for me, stern Death, 
 The common lot of men, has op'd his mouth; 
 Thou too, Achilles, rival of the Gods, 
 Art destin'd here beneath the walls of Troy 
 To meet thy doom; yet one thing must I add, 
 And make, if thou wilt grant it, one request. 
 Let not my bones be laid apart from thine, 
 Achilles, but together, as our youth 
 Was spent together in thy father's house. 
 Since first my sire Menoetius me a boy 
 From Opus brought, a luckless homicide. 
 Who of Amphidamas, by evil chance. 
 Had slain the son, disputing o'er the dice: 
 Me noble Peleus in his house receiv'd. 
 And kindly nurs'd, and thine attendant made. 
 So in one urn be now our bones enclos'd. 
 The golden vase, thy Goddess- mother's gift," 
 
The Older Iliad 13 
 
 Whom answer'd thus Achilles, swift of foot: 
 **Why art thou here, lov'd being? Why on me 
 These sev'ral charges lay? Whate'er thou bidd'st 
 Will I perform, and all thy mind fulfill; 
 But draw thou near, and in one short embrace. 
 Let us, while yet we may, our grief indulge." 
 
 Thus as he spoke, he spread his longing arms. 
 But nought he clasped, and with a waihng cry. 
 Vanish 'd, like smoke, the spirit beneath the earth. 
 Up sprang Achilles, all amaz'd, and smote 
 His hands together, and lamenting cried: 
 **0 Heav'n, there are then, in the realms below, 
 Spirits and spectres, unsubstantial all; 
 For all night long Patroclus' shade hath stood. 
 Weeping and wailing, at my side, and told 
 His bidding; th' image of himself it seem'd." 
 
 With no companion save the roaring wind gods Achilles 
 watches all night beside the pyre. 
 
 .... They all night long 
 
 With current brisk together fann'd the fire. 
 
 All night Achilles with a double cup 
 
 Drew from a golden bowl the ruddy wine. 
 
 Wherewith, outpour'd, he moisten'd all the earth, 
 
 Still calling on his lost Patroclus' shade. 
 
 As mourns a father o'er a youthful son. 
 
 Whose early death has wrung his parents' hearts; 
 
 So mourned Achilles o'er his friend's remains. 
 
 Prostrate beside the pyre, and groan 'd aloud. 
 
 But when the star of Lucifer appear'd. 
 
 The harbinger of light, whom following close 
 
 Spreads o'er the sea the saffron-robed mom, 
 
 Then pal'd the smould'ring fire, and sank the flame; 
 
 And o'er the Thracian sea, that groan'd and heav'd 
 
 Beneath their passage, home the Winds return'd; 
 
 And weary, from the pyre a space withdrawn, 
 
 Achilles lay, o'ercome by gentle sleep. 
 
14 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 The memorial mound is to be built for both friends. 
 Achilles gives the command: 
 
 ** These ashes in a golden urn shall He 
 
 Till I myself shall in the tomb be laid; 
 
 And o'er them build a mound, not over large, 
 
 But of proportions meet; in days to come. 
 
 Ye Greeks, who after me shall here remain, 
 
 Complete the work, and build it broad and high." 
 
 It is fitting to set beside this pair of friends the noble 
 kinsmen Glaucus and Sarpedon, who came from far off 
 Lycia to aid King Priam, the unhappy father of Paris and 
 of Hector. The passage here offered is generally regarded 
 as peculiarly suited to the genius of Pope, whose sonorous 
 version may be cited. Sarpedon, who is a son of Zeus, 
 the supreme god, by a mortal mother, addresses his merely 
 human cousin as they prepare to enter the fray together. 
 
 **Why boast we, Glaucus, our extended reign, 
 Where Xanthus' streams enrich the Lycian plain, 
 Our numerous herds that range the fruitful field. 
 And hills where vines their purple harvest yield. 
 Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crown'd, 
 • Our hearts entranced with music's sprightly sound? 
 Why on these shores are we with joy survey'd, 
 Admired as heroes and as gods obey'd, 
 Unless great acts superior merit prove, 
 And vindicate the bounteous powers above? 
 'Tis ours the dignity they give to grace; 
 The first in valor as the first in place; 
 That, when with wandering eyes our martial bands 
 Behold our deeds transcending our commands, 
 'Such', they may cry, 'deserve the sovereign state, 
 Whom those that envy dare not imitate!' 
 Could all our care elude the gloomy grave. 
 Which claims no less the fearful and the brave, 
 
The Older Iliad 15 
 
 For lust of fame I should not vainly dare 
 In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war. 
 But since, alas! ignoble age must come, 
 Disease, and death's inexorable doom. 
 The life, which others pay, let us bestow. 
 And give to fame what we to honor owe; 
 Brave though we fall, and honor'd if we live, 
 Or let us glory gain or glory give ! " 
 
 Outward conditions of life change ceaselessly; but 
 such comradeship as this, such a noble sense of the duty 
 that is imposed by lofty rank, even the rather grim fatal- 
 ism of the latter lines, will always make strong appeal to 
 men, and above all to the gallant patriotic soldier. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 The famous Elizabethan translation of Homer by John Chap- 
 man, despite Keats' glorification of it in his sonnet: "On First 
 Looking into Chapman's Homer," is very hard reading, full of 
 quaint "conceits," and often most un-Homeric. Pope's reso- 
 nance, clear syntax, and rapid movement, are all most fitting, but 
 he also introduces in numberless details the manners and tastes 
 of his own day, and he probably could not read the Greek at all, 
 depending chiefly on incompetent French translators. It is the 
 largest example in English of clear forceful writing by a perfect 
 master of the heroic couplet, but as the great scholar Bentley said 
 to Pope, "You mustn't call it Homer." 
 
 The most popular recent rhythmical versions are doubtless 
 Lord Derby's and William Cullen Bryant's, both in blank verse, 
 or ten-syllable unrhymed lines. The former has been freely 
 quoted in this chapter, the latter in the "Odyssey." Both trans- 
 lators use the Roman names for gods instead of the Greek, calling 
 the king of heaven and his wife Jupiter, or Jove, and Juno, not 
 Zeus and Hera, the war god Mars, not Ares, the goddess of love 
 Venus instead of Aphrodite. Even the patroness of Odysseus is 
 oftener named Minerva than Pallas Athene. A more serious fault 
 
1 6 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 is the slow effect inherent in the rhythm. A certain pedantic 
 stiffness in the British, a refined gentleness in the American trans- 
 later might be mentioned. Both are good and essentially faithful 
 versions, Bryant's the more enjoyable. Other spirited verse- 
 translations have been published by Way, Blackie, Worsley and 
 Conington, and many others. 
 
 The exact statements of Homer are well rendered in some- 
 what archaic English prose, by the three English scholars Lang, 
 Leaf, and Myers, collaborating on the Macmillan translation. 
 For the discoveries by excavation at Troy, Mycenae, etc., the 
 English reader should refer to Tsountas' and Manatt's "Mycenean 
 Age," rather than to Dr. Schliemann's own stately volumes. 
 
 The unity of authorship in the "Iliad" is best defended by 
 Andrew Lang, in "Homer and the Epic." He does not fully 
 meet the assaults of his friend Leaf, who in his "Companion to 
 the Iliad" assigns the parts of the poem in detail to several suc- 
 cessive composers and interpolators. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 LATER ADDITIONS TO THE ILIAD 
 
 Family Ties. Hector and Andromache. Priam's Griej 
 jar Hector. 
 
 In the ** Iliad" the Greeks come to Asia Minor as to 
 an alien land. The Asiatic peoples are arrayed as allies 
 or vassals on Priam's side. But still, most of the seven 
 or more towns that claimed each to be the place of 
 Homer's birth, Smyrna, Chios, etc., are old Greek cities 
 on the Eastern side of the ^gean. These cities may 
 really all have been early colonies from Greece proper. 
 If, as is widely believed, these Eastward pilgrims brought 
 the older portions of the ''Iliad" with them, it is natural 
 that some of the latest additions to the poem, as we now 
 read it, should have been made in the new home, and 
 should delineate with fullest sympathy the Asiatic heroes, 
 even though they had fought on the wrong side in the 
 mythic war about Troy ; even though, like Evangeline and 
 Hiawatha, they were of races alien and hostile to their 
 poet's own people. These portions seem to show more 
 refinement, and gentler feeling, than the older parts of 
 the epic. Among them is the passage last cited, — with 
 others in which both Glaucus and Sarpedon are given 
 marked honor, — and, especially, the two great scenes 
 which are perhaps better known than any others: the 
 parting of Hector and his wife Andromache before his 
 last great exploits, and the final appearance of old king 
 
 17 
 
1 8 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Priam in the cabin of his deadliest foe Achilles, whither 
 he has gone by night to beg the privilege of ransoming 
 the body of his bravest son. 
 
 For the former extract an attempt may be made to 
 imitate, in our own harsher, more consonantal speech, the 
 hexameter rhythm of the Greek poem. 
 
 PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE 
 
 So thro' the city he passed, and came to the Scaean gate- 
 way. 
 
 Where he intended forth to the plain and the battle to 
 sally. 
 
 There did his bounteous wife, Andromache, running to 
 meet him 
 
 Come, — Andromache, child of Eetion, fearless in spirit. 
 
 He, Eetion, dwelt at the foot of deep- wooded Plakos; 
 
 Ruling Cilician folk in Thebe under the mountain. 
 
 She was his daughter, and wife unto brazen-helmeted * 
 Hector. 
 
 So she came and met him, and with her followed the ser- 
 vant. 
 
 Clasping the innocent boy to her bosom — yet but an 
 infant. 
 
 Hector's well-loved child, and brightly he shone as a star 
 shines. 
 
 Hector Scamandrius called him, the others Astyanax 
 named him. 
 
 Prince of the city — for Hector alone was Ilios' bulwark. 
 
 Hector is too modest to call his child Lord of the 
 Town, and names him instead Child of the River, Scam- 
 ander, the chief stream of the Trojan plain. Some 
 commentators have cut out these lines as unpoetical. 
 
 ^ These "permanent" epithets often became almost like names. Often, 
 too, they are amusingly unsuited to the particular incident bein^ described. 
 We saw "swift-footed" Achillesfstanding idle. So Helen is "trailing-robed" 
 even when hurrying thro' the dusty streets. Juno is "golden-throned," when 
 she goes sleepy to Bed ! 
 
Later Additions to the Iliad 19 
 
 Smiling the father stood, as he looked at his son, and in 
 
 silence 
 Close to his side, with a tear in her eye, Andromache 
 
 pressing 
 Clung to her husband's hand, and thus she spoke and 
 
 addressed him: 
 ''Ah me, surely your prowess will slay you! Nor will 
 
 you have pity, 
 Not for your helpless child, nor yet for myself the ill-fated. 
 Soon I of you shall be robbed. Ere long the Achseans 
 
 will slay you. 
 All of them rushing upon you ! And truly, for me it were 
 
 better. 
 When I of you am bereft, to go down to the grave. Nor 
 
 hereafter 
 May consolation be mine, when once your doom is accom- 
 plished, 
 Only laments! No father have I, nor reverend mother. 
 Well do you know how Achilles the godlike murdered my 
 
 , father. 
 When he had sacked our city, that well-built town of 
 
 Cilicians, 
 Thebe with lofty gates; and Eetion also he murdered, 
 Though he despoiled him not, since that he dreaded in 
 
 spirit. 
 There did the victor burn his body, in beautiful armor. 
 He, too, heaped up a mound, and the elms are growing 
 
 about it 
 Set by the Oreads, sprung from Zeus, who is lord of the 
 
 3egis. 
 Seven my brethren were, who together abode in the palace. 
 All on a single day passed down to the dwelling of Hades, 
 Each of them slain by the sword of the fleet-footed, god- 
 
 Hke Achilles, — 
 They, and the white-fleeced sheep, and the herds of the 
 
 slow-paced oxen. 
 Lastly, my mother, who ruled as a queen under deep- 
 wooded Plakos: — 
 
Q.O Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Though he had led her hither, along with the rest of the 
 
 booty, 
 Yet he released her again, and accepted a glorious ransom. 
 Then, in the hall of her father, the huntress Artemis slew 
 
 her.^ 
 Hector, so you are to me both father and reverend 
 
 mother; 
 You are my brother as well, and you are my glorious 
 
 husband. 
 Pray have pity upon me, and tarry you here on the ram- 
 part, 
 Lest you may leave as an orphan your boy, and your wife 
 
 as a widow. 
 Order your people to stand by the fig-tree, since upon 
 
 that side 
 Easier gained is the wall, and exposed to assault is the 
 
 city." 
 Then unto her made answer the great bright-helmeted 
 
 Hector: 
 "Surely for all these things, my wife, am I troubled, but 
 
 greatly 
 Shamed were I before Trojans, and long-robed Trojan 
 
 Matrons, 
 If like a coward I lingered, afar from the war and the 
 
 battle. 
 Nor has my heart so bade me, because I have learned to 
 
 be always 
 Valiant and ready to fight in the foremost line of our 
 
 people. 
 Striving to win high fame, for myself and for Priam my 
 
 father. 
 This, too, well do I know: in my heart and my soul it 
 
 abideth : 
 Surely a day shall come when the sacred city shall perish, 
 Priam himself, and the folk of Priam the valorous spear- 
 man. 
 Yet far less do I grieve for the Trojans' sorrows hereafter, 
 
 iThat is, she died a sudden and painless death. 
 
Later Additions to the Iliad 21 
 
 Even the woes of Hecabe's self, and of Priam the 
 
 monarch, 
 Or for the fate of my brethren, though many shall perish 
 
 undaunted, 
 FaUing prone in the dust by the hands of the merciless 
 
 foemen, — 
 Less do I grieve for all this than for you, when a warrior 
 
 Achaean 
 Leads you lamenting away, for the day of your freedom 
 
 is ended. 
 Then as another's slave at the loom you will labor in 
 
 Argos, 
 Or from the spring Hypereia draw water, or else from 
 
 Messeis,^ 
 Oft in reluctance, because compulsion is heavy upon you. 
 Then, as you weep, perchance 'twill be said by one who 
 
 shall see you, 
 'Yon is Hector's wife, who still among knightly Trojans 
 Bravest proved in the fray, when Troy was with battle 
 
 encircled.' 
 So some day will they speak, and again will the pain be 
 
 repeated. 
 Since, of so faithful a husband bereft, you will suffer in 
 
 bondage. 
 Verily dead may I be, and the earth heaped heavy upon 
 
 me. 
 Ere I may hear thy cry, or behold thee dragged by the 
 
 foemen." 
 Speaking thus, for his son reached out the illustrious 
 
 Hector; 
 Yet he backward recoiled on the breast of the faithful 
 
 attendant, 
 Crying aloud in his fright at the sight of his father beloved. 
 'Twas by the brazen mail and the horsehair plume he was 
 
 frightened, 
 Seeing it nodding so fiercely, adown from the crest of his 
 
 helmet. 
 
 iThe Greek poet, adding the loving touch of local color, forgets that Tro- 
 jan Hector would never have heard of Pharpar and Abama. 
 
22 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Then out laughed the affectionate father and reverend 
 
 mother. 
 Presently now the illustrious Hector lifted his helmet 
 Off from his head; on the ground he laid it resplendently 
 
 gleaming. 
 When he had tossed in his arms his well-loved son, and 
 
 caressed him, 
 Then unto Zeus and the other immortals he made his 
 
 petition : 
 ''Zeus, and ye other immortals, I pray you that even as I 
 
 am 
 So this boy may become preeminent over the Trojans, 
 Mighty and fearless as I, and in Ihos rule by his prowess! 
 May it hereafter be said, 'He is better by far than his 
 
 father:' 
 
 (It is a verse any man might write in golden letters on 
 the wall of the chamber where lies his first-born son: but 
 we cannot break off here, though the following lines are 
 an unwelcome reminder that Hector, like Achilles, is a 
 "splendid savage" after all!) 
 
 — When he returns from the fray, with the bloodstained 
 
 armour of heroes, 
 When he has smitten the foe, and gladdened the heart of 
 
 his mother." 
 So did he speak; and into the arms of his wife, the 
 
 beloved. 
 Laid he the boy, and she in her fragrant bosom received 
 
 him. 
 Laughing with tears in her eyes. Her husband was moved 
 
 as he saw her: 
 "Dear one, be not for me so exceedingly troubled in 
 
 spirit. 
 No one against Fate's will shall send me untimely to Hades. 
 None among mortal men his destiny ever evadeth, — 
 Neither the coward nor hero, when once his doom is 
 
 appointed. 
 
Later Additions to the Iliad 23 
 
 Pray you, go to your home, and there give heed to your 
 duties; 
 
 Tasks of the loom and the spindle, and lay your commands 
 on the servants. 
 
 So they may work your will. Let men take thought for 
 the combat, 
 
 All — I most of them all — whoso are in Ilios native." 
 So having spoken, illustrious Hector took up the helmet, 
 
 Horsehair-crested. The faithful wife had homeward 
 departed, 
 
 Turning ever about, and fast were her tears down drop- 
 ping. 
 
 Presently now to her palace she came, that so fairly was 
 builded. 
 
 Home of Hector, destroyer of heroes: many a servant 
 
 Found she within, and among them all she aroused 
 lamentation. 
 
 They in his home over Hector lamented, while yet he was 
 living. 
 
 Since they believed he would come no more from the 
 battle returning. 
 
 Nor would escape from the hands and might of the val- 
 iant Achaeans. 
 
 The funeral rites of Patroclus fill Book XXHI. of the 
 *'Iliad." Hector's body still lies, insulted and mangled, 
 by his slayer's cabin, while day after day passes. In the 
 next and last book Hermes, the kindly messenger-god, has 
 guided and protected Priam on his way, with costly ran- 
 som, to the hostile camp, but leaves him, at the threshold 
 of Achilles, late in the night. 
 
 Achilles was just ceasing from his meal, 
 From drink and food. The table stood by him. 
 Great Priam entered in unmarked by them 
 And close beside Achilles took his place. 
 Clasped with both hands his knees, and kissed 
 
24 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Those awful murderous hands, which had destroyed 
 . His many sons. 
 
 As when a mighty curse 
 Befalleth one who in his fatherland 
 Hath slain a man, and to another folk 
 He comes, unto some wealthy man's abode. 
 And wonder seizes those who look on him. 
 So did Achilles marvel, as he saw 
 The godlike Priam: and the others too 
 In their amazement gazed at one another. 
 
 Then Priam prayerfully addressed him thus: 
 ''Remember, O Achilles like the gods. 
 Thy father, even of such years as I, 
 Upon the fatal threshold of old age. 
 Perchance the neighbors vex him round about, 
 And there is no one to avert from him 
 Calamity and ruin. But yet he. 
 Hearing thou art alive, exults in heart, 
 And all his days is hopeful he shall see 
 His well-loved son returning home from Troy. 
 But wholly evil is my fate, who had 
 The noblest sons in wide Troy-land, and none 
 Of them, I tell thee, now is left alive. 
 Fifty I had when the Achaeans came: 
 Nineteen were from one womb bom unto me, 
 The others of the women in my halls. 
 Of most, impetuous Ares^ brake the knees. 
 Him who alone remained, and kept my town 
 And people, thou the other day hast slain. 
 While he was fighting for his fatherland: 
 Hector. For his sake to th' Achaeans' ships 
 I came, to buy him back from thee, and bring 
 A priceless ranson. But do thou revere 
 The gods, Achilles, and have pity on me. 
 Remembering thine own father. Yet am I 
 More piteous, and have borne what no one else 
 Of men on earth has done — to lift the hand 
 
 1 The war god, meaning here war itsell. 
 
Later Additions to the Iliad 25 
 
 Of him who slew my sons unto my lips." 
 
 So spoke he; and he roused indeed in him 
 Desire of weeping for his father. Then 
 Grasping him by the hand, he gently pushed 
 The old man from him; and they both bewailed 
 Unceasingly: the one remembering 
 Hector, the slayer of men, the while he lay 
 Before Achilles' feet; but for his sire 
 Achilles wept, and for Patroclus too 
 At times; and in the house their moan went up. 
 
 But when divine Achilles had his fill 
 Of weeping, straightway from the chair he rose, 
 And lifted by the hand the aged man. 
 Pitying his hoary head and hoary beard. 
 Addressing him he uttered winged words: 
 **Ah, wretched one, thou hast indeed endured 
 Full many woes in heart. How didst thou dare 
 To come to the Achaeans' ships, alone, 
 Into my presence, — mine, who have despoiled 
 Thy many noble sons? Thy soul is hard 
 As iron. But, come, sit upon a chair. 
 And truly we will let our sorrows lie 
 Quiet within our hearts, grieved though we be; 
 For in chill mourning there is no avail. 
 Since so the gods have spun for wretched men, 
 To live in sorrow. They are free from care ! 
 For at the door of Zeus two jars are set, 
 One filled with evil gifts, and one again 
 With blessings; and to whomsoever Zeus, 
 Hurler of lightning, intermingling gives. 
 He chances now on evil, now on good; 
 While him to whom he gives but ills he makes 
 A byword! Wretched famine urges him 
 Over the holy earth. He wanders forth, 
 Unhonoured of the gods or mortal men.* 
 
 So the gods gave to Peleus glorious gifts 
 At birth, for he to all mankind was famed 
 
 1 From the jar of blessings, alone, no man's portion is dipped, it appears. 
 
26 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 For bliss and wealth, and ruled the Myrmidons. 
 A goddess, too, they made his wife, though he 
 Was mortal. Yet the God sent woe on him; 
 For in his halls no race of mortal sons 
 Arose; one all-untimely son had he, 
 And I protect him not as he grows old: 
 Since far from home I tarry in the Troad, 
 Vexing thee, and thy children. And of thee 
 'Tis said, old sir, that thou wert happy once. 
 Of all the land which Lesbos, Makar's home, 
 Doth bound, and Phrygia, and vast Hellespont, 
 Of all these folk, 'tis said, thou wert supreme, 
 O aged man, in tale of wealth and sons. 
 But since the Heaven-dwellers on thee sent 
 This sorrow, ever round thy town is strife 
 And slaying of men. 
 
 Endure, and do not grieve 
 Unceasingly in spirit. Naught by grief 
 Wilt thou accomplish for thy gallant son; 
 Thou mayst not raise him up to life again; 
 Nay, sooner wilt thou suffer other ills." 
 
 Then aged godlike Priam answered him: 
 **Bid me not yet to sit upon a chair. 
 Thou child of Zeus, while Hector in thy house 
 Uncared-for lies. But give him up at once, 
 That I may see him; — and accept the price." 
 
 Then swift Achilles with fierce glance replied: 
 ** Chafe me no more, old sir; I do myself 
 Intend to give thee Hector back. From Zeus 
 As messenger to me my mother came; 
 The daughter of the Ancient of the Sea. 
 And as for thee, O Priam, well I know 
 In heart, and it escapes me not, some god 
 Guided thee to the Achaeans' speedy ships; 
 For never mortal man would dare to come. 
 Though youthful, to our camp, nor could he elude 
 The guards, nor easily push back the bolts 
 Upon our gates. So do thou rouse no more, 
 
Later Additions to the Iliad 27 
 
 O aged man, mine anger in my grief, 
 
 Lest I may leave thee not unharmed, even here 
 
 Within my cabin, suppliant as thou art. 
 
 But may transgress against the will of Zeus." 
 
 He spoke; the aged man in fear obeyed. 
 PeHdes like a lion through the house 
 Rushed to the portal; not alone: with him 
 Two servants went, heroic Automedon 
 And Alkimos, whom of his comrades most 
 Achilles honoured, save Patroclus dead. 
 They from the yoke released the steeds and mules, 
 And led the herald of the old King in, 
 And bade him sit. Then from the shining cart 
 They took the priceless ransom for the head 
 Of Hector. But two robes they left, and one 
 Tunic well-knit, that he might wrap therewith 
 The dead, and give him to be carried home. 
 Calling the maids he ordered them to wash 
 And to anoint him, taking him apart. 
 That Priam might not look upon his son. 
 Lest in his sorrowing spirit he might not 
 Restrain his wrath when he beheld his child; 
 And so Achilles* heart would be aroused. 
 And he would slay him, and transgress the will 
 Of Zeus.^ 
 
 Achilles breathes the prayer: 
 
 ** Patroclus, be not wroth, 
 Even in Hades, that I have released 
 The mighty Hector to his loving father. 
 For no unworthy ransom did he give. 
 And with thee I will share it, as is right." 
 
 Then, turning to Priam: 
 
 **Thy son is freed, old man, as thou hast bid, 
 And lies upon the bier. At dawn shalt thou 
 Behold and bear him hence. But now let us 
 
 iThe courteous and cbivalric host, fearing that a savage devil maybe 
 roused in his own heart, is an early and striking example of conscious-dualism. 
 
28 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Take thought of supper " 
 
 When they had sated them with food and drink, 
 
 Dardanian Priam at Achilles gazed 
 
 In wonder, seeing him so tall and fair. 
 
 Achilles too admired Dardanian Priam, 
 
 Viewing his goodly aspect, giving ear 
 
 Unto his words. But when they had looked their fill 
 
 At one another, first unto his host 
 
 The venerable, godlike Priam spoke: 
 
 "Let me at once, O child of Zeus, lie down, 
 
 That we of slumber sweet may have our fill. 
 
 And rest. Nor yet mine eyes* beneath their lids 
 
 Have closed, since at thy hands my son gave up 
 
 His life, but evermore I groan aloud. 
 
 And brood on my innumerable griefs. 
 
 Rolling in filth within my courtyard's close. 
 
 Now truly have I tasted food, and let 
 
 .The gleaming wine pass down my throat. Before 
 
 I had tasted nothing. '* 
 
 The beds are accordingly spread under the colonnade in 
 the courtyard. Before they part for the night, however, 
 a yet more generous thought occurs to Achilles, and he 
 asks his guest: 
 
 "But prithee tell me, and say truthfully. 
 
 How many days thou dost intend to pay 
 
 Thy rites to mighty Hector, so that I 
 
 Myself may wait, and hold my folk aloof. ' * 
 
 Then agdd godlike Priam answered him: 
 
 "If thou indeed dost wish me to complete 
 
 Great Hector's burial, by acting thus, 
 
 Achilles, thou wouldst win my gratitude; 
 
 Thou knowest we are pent within the town. 
 
 The wood is from the mountain far to fetch. 
 
 And much in fear the Trojans. We would wail 
 
 Nine days for him within our halls, and on 
 
 The tenth would bury him, and the folk would feast. 
 
Later Additions to the Iliad 29 
 
 The eleventh we could rear a mound for him, 
 
 And on the twelfth will fight, if needs must be." 
 
 Then great Achilles, fleet of foot, replied: 
 
 ** These things shall be for thee as thou dost bid. 
 
 And even for so long a time will I 
 
 Put off the war as thou commandest me." 
 
 This princely promise of Achilles was fulfilled, and 
 with a curt account of Hector's funeral the *'IHad" ends. 
 Of course the final downfall of Troy has been often fore- 
 shadowed. The famous wooden horse is first mentioned 
 in the * 'Odyssey." A number of early epics, now lost, 
 were composed expressly to complete the tale of Troy. 
 Later poets, down to Tennyson and Andrew Lang, have 
 felt the same impulse. 
 
 As to the authors of the '4Had" we know nothing. 
 They may have sung to princes somewhat as the *' Iliad" 
 describes. But our first historical view of Hellas, about 
 600 B.C. — as outHned in Herodotus, — shows us, on both 
 sides the ^gean, trading towns, generally held by free 
 communities. Some such a picture we get, also, in one 
 very late addition to the ** Iliad" itself: the account of the 
 decorations on Achilles' shield. The feudal Homeric life 
 had already vanished, if it ever had existed. 
 
 Courtly minstrels are described in both the ** Iliad" 
 and the **Odyssey." Professional reciters or rhapsodes, 
 not themselves creative poets, existed, singly or in fami- 
 nes and guilds, down to a late date. The best description 
 of a Homeric recitation is in Plato's "Ion": 
 
 *'l often envy the profession of a rhapsode," says 
 Socrates. *'He has always to wear fine clothes, and to 
 
 look as beautiful as possible is a part of his art 
 
 He has a golden crown upon his head 
 
JO Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 **When you produce the greatest effect upon the 
 audience in the recitation of some striking passage, such 
 as the apparition of Odysseus leaping forth on the floor, 
 recognized by the suitors and casting his arrows at his 
 feet, .... are you in your right mind? Are you not 
 carried out of yourself, and does not your soul in an 
 ecstasy seem to be among the persons or places of which 
 you are speaking, whether they are in Ithaca or in Troy 
 or whatever may be the scene of the poem?'* 
 
 These reciters were clearly almost actors. Whether 
 the player is absorbed in his part, is a question still 
 debated. The answer is both yes and no. The imitative 
 artist has two selves, one critical, one sympathetic. 
 
 But the questions, When, By whom. To whom, was 
 the ''Iliad" jirst recited, cannot be answered. In its 
 present gigantic form, of course, it could not be recited 
 at one time at all. Between its ideal scenes, and the real 
 life of him who gave the poem essentially its present 
 shape, there may have been as wide a gulf as, for example, 
 between Arthur's Camelot and the age of Alfred Tenny- 
 son. 
 
 The tradition of a blind Homer, born on the island of 
 Chios, starts with the ''Homeric Hymn" to Delian 
 Apollo. That poem is at least a century or two later 
 than the "Iliad," and the passage referred to seems per- 
 fectly realistic, but most un-Homeric. This free and 
 happy folk are nowise Hke the despised commons of the 
 "Iliad." Still less could the poet, who has so carefully 
 effaced himself from every page of the great epic, have 
 made any such self-conscious plea for personal attention 
 as is here set forth: 
 
Later Additions to the Iliad 31 
 
 Greeting unto you all : and be ye of me hereafter 
 Mindful', when some other of men that on earth have 
 
 abiding 
 Hither may come, an outworn stranger, and ask you the 
 
 question : 
 **Oh, ye maidens, and who for you is the sweetest of 
 
 minstrels. 
 Whoso hither doth come, in whom ye most are delighted?" 
 Then do ye all, I pray, with one voice answer and tell him, 
 ** Blind is the man, and in Chios abounding in crags is his 
 
 dwelling. 
 He it is whose songs shall all be supreme in the future.'* 
 
 So this anonymous hymn only confirms the regretful 
 confession, that, as to the poet or poets of the ''IHad," 
 nothing can ever be known. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 The translations from the "Iliad" in this chapter are taken, 
 by permission of the Macmillan Company, from Lawton's "Art 
 and Humanity in Homer," where other experiments in hexameter 
 may be found. For the "Homeric Hymns" there are complete 
 translations in prose by Edgar and Andrew Lang. On the hymns 
 see also Lawton's "Successors of Homer." The "Ion" should 
 be read entire in Jowett's translation of Plato. See also the note 
 at the end of the previous chapter. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE ODYSSEY 
 
 Home Love. The Return of Odysseus, 
 
 The '* Odyssey" is an epic of 12,000 lines, resembling 
 the ''Iliad" in language, metre, and general tone. As a 
 whole it seems more refined and humane, and is probably 
 a few decades younger. It describes the adventures of the 
 crafty Odysseus, — the real victor over Troy, through the 
 stratagem of the wooden horse, — on his ten-year long 
 homeward voyage. Best-known, doubtless, are such 
 scenes as his escape from the gigantic Cyclops' cave, by 
 making the monster drunk and then boring out his single 
 eye. This exploit is, however, a world-wide myth of 
 many peoples, told of each national hero, and probably 
 older far than the whole tale of Troy. The dominant 
 chord of the great song is not love of adventure, but love 
 of home. The very invocation is the best illustration: 
 
 *'Tell me, O Muse, of that sagacious man 
 Who, having overthrown the sacred town 
 Of Ilium, wandered far and visited 
 The capitals of many nations, learned 
 The customs of their dwellers, and endured 
 Great suffering on the deep; his life was oft 
 In peril, as he labored to bring back 
 
 His comrades to their homes " 
 
 **Now all the rest, as many as escaped 
 
 The cruel doom of death, were at their homes, 
 
 Safe from the perils of the war and sea, 
 
 32 
 
The Odyssey 33 
 
 While him alone, who pined to see his home 
 And wife again, Calypso, queenly nymph. 
 Great among goddesses, detained within 
 Her spacious grot . * * 
 
 Pallas Athene, his chief patron, begins her plea to the 
 gods for him thus: 
 
 **I am grieved 
 For sage Ulysses, that most wretched man, 
 So long detained, repining, and afar 
 From those he loves, upon a distant isle.** 
 
 .... "Impatient to behold the smokes 
 That rise from hearths in his own land, he pines. 
 And willingly would die.*' 
 
 The first four books describe chiefly young Telemachus* 
 wanderings in quest of his father. 
 
 In Book V. we see the hero himself. Calypso, by 
 command of Zeus, is forced to speed him on his home- 
 ward way. 
 
 Him she found beside the deep. 
 Seated alone, with eyes from which the tears 
 Were never dried, for now no more the nymph 
 Delighted him. He wasted his sweet Hfe 
 In yearning for his home. Night after night 
 He slept constrained within the hdllow cave, 
 The unwilling by the fond : and day by day 
 He sat upon the rocks that edged the shore. 
 And in continual weeping, and in sighs, 
 And vain repinings, wore the hours away. 
 Gazing through tears upon the barren deep. 
 
 The reply of Odysseus to the gentle nymph's last 
 loving plea has a certain resemblance to the ancient myth 
 of Marpessa, as recently retold by Stephen Philhps. 
 Calypso had said: 
 
34 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 "Farewell: — 
 But, couldst thou know the sufferings Fate ordains 
 For thee ere yet thou landest on thy shore, 
 Thou wouldst remain to keep this home with me. 
 And be immortal, strong as is thy wish 
 To see thy wife, — a wish that day by day 
 Possesses thee. I cannot deem myself 
 In face or form less beautiful than she; 
 For never with immortals can the race 
 Of mortal dames in form or face compare. " 
 
 Ulysses, the sagacious, answered her 
 **Bear with me, gracious goddess; well I know 
 All thou couldst say. The sage Penelope 
 In feature and in stature comes not nigh 
 To thee, for she is mortal — deathless thou. 
 And ever young; yet day by day I long 
 To be at home once more, and pine to see 
 The hour of my return. Even though some god 
 Smite me on the black ocean, I shall bear 
 The stroke, for in my bosom dwells a mind 
 Patient of suffering; much have I endured, 
 And much survived, in tempests on the deep 
 And in the battle; let this happen too. " 
 
 Like Marpessa, the hero turns away from an immortal, 
 preferring the love of a fitter though less glorious human 
 mate. The wanderer is not, indeed, so austerely faithful 
 as is the loyal wife Penelope at home. Not only the 
 gentle Calypso, but even the cruel enchantress Circe, who 
 turns men into swine, had for a time shared his affections. 
 Yet after his last shipwreck, when appealing humbly for 
 help to the brave little princess Nausicaa, who had rescued 
 him, he rises to a lofty key. 
 
 ''May the gods vouchsafe 
 To thee whatever blessings thou canst wish; 
 Husband, and home, and w^edded harmony. 
 
The Odyssey 35 
 
 There is no better, no more blessed state, 
 Than when the wife and husband in accord 
 Order their household lovingly. Then those 
 Repine who hate them; those who wish them well 
 Rejoice, and they themselves the most of all. ' * 
 
 Nausicaa herself furnishes him, in roguish fashion, a 
 ghmpse of her own happy home. 
 
 **When thou art once within our court and hall, 
 Go quickly through the palace till thou find 
 My mother where she sits beside the hearth. 
 Leaning against a column in its blaze. 
 And twisting threads, a marvel to behold. 
 Of bright sea-purple, while her maidens sit 
 Behind her. Near her is my father's throne. 
 On which he sits at feasts, and drinks the wine 
 Like one of the immortals. Pass it by, 
 And clasp my mother's knees; so mayst thou see 
 Soon and with joy the day of thy return, 
 Although thy home be far. For if her mood 
 Be kindly toward thee, thou mayst hope to greet 
 Thy friends once more, and enter yet again 
 Thy own fair palace in thy native land." 
 
 The farthest voyage of Odysseus is to the land of the 
 dead. Here he meets, among many besides, his own 
 mother's lonely ghost. In her surprise at his arrival 
 there, a living man, she exclaims: 
 
 '*Hast thou come hither on thy way from Troy, 
 A weary wanderer with thy ship and friends? 
 And hast thou not yet been at Ithaca, 
 Nor in thine island palace seen thy wife?" 
 
 Even before mentioning his boyish son, or his distracted 
 kingdom, his mother tells him of Penelope's faithfulness: 
 
36 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 **Most certain is it that she sadly dwells 
 
 Still in thy palace. Weary days and nights 
 
 And tears are hers. No man has taken yet 
 
 Thy place as ruler, but Telemachus 
 
 Still has the charge of thy domain, and gives 
 
 The liberal feasts, which it befits a prince 
 
 To give, for all invite him. In the fields 
 
 Thy father dwells, and never in the town 
 
 Is seen; nor beds nor cloaks has he, nor mats 
 
 Of rich device, but, all the winter through 
 
 He sleeps where sleep the laborers, on the hearth. 
 
 Amid the dust, and wears a wretched garb; 
 
 And when the summer comes, or autumn days 
 
 Ripen the fruit, his bed is on the ground. 
 
 And made of leaves, that everywhere are shed 
 
 In the rich vineyards. There he lies and grieves. 
 
 And, cherishing his sorrow, mourns thy fate. 
 
 And keenly feels the miseries of age." 
 
 The Homeric preference for city luxury over rustic 
 discomfort seems here plainly intimated, but especially 
 striking is the simple strong appeal to filial love, to the 
 tender memories of home and kin. 
 
 When Odysseus first lands on the loneliest shore of 
 Ithaca, alone, disguised as a beggar, from the vessel of 
 Nausicaa's kindly people, he is near to being torn in 
 pieces by the watchdogs of his faithful swineherd. The 
 latter, rescuing him, cries out : 
 
 **0 aged man, the mastiff's of the lodge 
 
 Had almost torn thee, and thou wouldst have cast 
 
 Bitter reproach upon me. Other griefs 
 
 And miseries the gods have made my lot. 
 
 Here sorrowfully sitting I lament 
 
 A godlike master, and for others tend 
 
 His fatling swine, while, haply hungering 
 
 For bread, he wanders among alien men 
 
The Odyssey 37 
 
 In other kingdoms, if indeed he lives 
 And looks upon the sun." 
 
 **The gods themselves 
 Prevent, no doubt, the safe return of him 
 Who loved me much, and would ere this have given 
 What a kind lord is wont to give his hind — 
 A house, a croft, the wife whom he has wooed, 
 Rewarding faithful services which God 
 Hath prospered, as he here hath prospered mine. 
 Thus would my master, had he here grown old. 
 Have recompensed my toils, — but he is dead. 
 O that the house of Helen, for whose sake 
 So many fell, had perished utterly! 
 For he went forth at Agamemnon's call. 
 Honoring the summons, and on Ilium's coast, 
 Famed for its coursers, fought the sons of Troy." * 
 
 The bondsman's humbler ideal of bHss is like his mas- 
 ter's. In hut or palace it is home, wife, rest from wander- 
 ing, that make up happiness; though, as the swineherd 
 himself says, the past wanderings may heighten the joy of 
 present peace. 
 
 **For in the aftertime 
 One who has suffered much and wandered far 
 May take a pleasure even in his griefs." 
 
 A yet homelier and still more powerful bit of realism 
 should not be omitted. When Odysseus, in the guise of 
 an aged and wretched beggar, reenters his own gate, he 
 is first recognized by his old hound. 
 
 There lay 
 Argus, devoured with vermin. As he saw 
 Ulysses drawing near, he wagged his tail 
 And dropped his ears, but found that he could come 
 
 1 These echoes of the "Iliad" seem to be in the tones of a later age, less 
 fond of war and violence. 
 
3 8 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 No nearer to his master. Seeing this, 
 
 Ulysses wiped away a tear, unmarked 
 
 By the good swineherd, whom he questioned thus: 
 
 '*Eumaeus, this I marvel at, — this dog. 
 
 That lies upon the dunghill, beautiful 
 
 In form, but whether in the chase as fleet 
 
 As he is fairly shaped I cannot tell. 
 
 Worthless, perchance, as housedogs often are, 
 
 Whose masters keep them for the sake of show. * ' 
 
 And thus, Eumaeus, thou didst make reply: 
 **This dog belongs to one who died afar. 
 Had he the power of limb which once he had 
 For feats of hunting, when Ulysses sailed 
 For Troy and left him, thou wouldst be amazed 
 Both at his swiftness and his strength. No beast 
 In the thick forest depths, which once he saw. 
 Or even tracked by footprints, could escape. 
 And now he is a sufferer, since his lord 
 Has perished far from his own land. No more 
 The careless women heed the creature's wants '* 
 
 He spake, and entering that fair dwelling-place, 
 Passed through to where the illustrious suitors sat. 
 While over Argus the black night of death 
 Came suddenly, as soon as he had seen 
 Ulysses, absent now for twenty years. 
 
 The first words uttered by the hero, still incognito^ to 
 his wife, are noble and pathetic: 
 
 **0 lady, none in all the boundless earth 
 
 Can speak of thee with blame. Thy fame has reached 
 
 To the great heavens. It is like the renown 
 
 Of some most excellent king, of godHke sway 
 
 O'er many men and mighty, who upholds 
 
 Justice in all his realm 
 
 But of my race and home 
 Inquire not, lest thou waken in my mind 
 Unhappy memories. I am a man 
 Of sorrows " 
 
The Odyssey 39 
 
 His old nurse, the faithful Eurycleia, is required to 
 wash his feet, and recognizes her fosterchild by the great 
 scar of a wound received many years before from a wild 
 boar's tusk. 
 
 At once a rush 
 Of gladness and of grief o'ercame her heart. 
 Tears filled her eyes, and her clear voice was choked. 
 She touched Ulysses on the chin, and said:- — 
 **Dear child! Thou art Ulysses, of a truth. 
 I knew thee not till I had touched the scar.** 
 So speaking, toward Penelope she turned 
 Her eyes, about to tell her that her lord 
 Was in the palace; but the queen saw not, 
 And all that passed was unperceived by her, 
 For Pallas turned her thoughts another way. 
 Meantime, Ulysses on the nurse's throat 
 Laid his right hand, and with the other drew 
 The aged woman nearer him, and said: — 
 "Nurse, wouldst thou ruin me, who drew long since 
 Milk from thy bosom, and who now return, 
 After much suffering borne for twenty years 
 To mine own land? Now then, since thou hast learned 
 The truth, by prompting of some god, no doubt, — 
 Keep silence, lest some others in the house 
 Should learn it also " 
 
 Amid the terrible scene of vengeance, when all the 
 hundred suitors are slain in the great hall, the herald Medon, 
 fosterfather of the boy Telemachus, is one of the two 
 men that are spared. The other is the sweet-voiced court 
 minstrel, who 
 
 went and clasped 
 The hero's knees, and said in winged words: — 
 **I come, Ulysses, to thy knees. Respect 
 And spare me. It will be a grief to thee. 
 Hereafter, shouldst thou slay a bard who sings 
 For gods and men alike. I taught myself 
 
40 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 This art: some god has breathed into my mind 
 Songs of all kinds, and I could sing to thee 
 As to a god. O seek not, then, to take 
 My life ! Thy own dear son, Telemachus, 
 Will bear me witness that not willingly, 
 Nor for the sake of lucre, did I come 
 To sing before the suitors at their feasts 
 And in thy palace, but was forced to come 
 By numbers, and by mightier men than I." 
 He ceased; Telemachus, the mighty, heard 
 And thus bespake his father at his side: — 
 ''Refrain, smite not the guiltless with the sword; 
 And be the herald, Medon, also spared. 
 Who in our palace had the care of me 
 Through all my childhood " 
 
 Here too is the appeal to the familiar home-feehng. 
 These were really weaklings, who had not, like Eumaeus, 
 been steadfast to the absent overlord: — but the child of 
 the house loved them of old, and pleads for them now. 
 
 The final scene of reunion shows that the crafty Odys- 
 seus had indeed chosen a wife after his own heart. She 
 still doubts if some god may not have come down to slay 
 the suitors and deceive her. She puts her truant lord to 
 a cunning test, bidding the old Eurycleia draw his bed out 
 from the chamber into the hall for him to He at ease. But 
 Odysseus and Penelope, with one trusted servant, alone 
 know that this is impossible. The bed was built about 
 the great trunk of a living tree. When he rather sternly 
 reminds her of this, her last doubt is effaced. 
 
 He spake, and her knees fainted, and her heart 
 Was melted, as she heard her lord recount 
 The tokens all so truly; and she wept. 
 And rose, and ran to him, and flung her arms 
 About his neckj and kissed his brow, and said: — 
 
The Odyssey 41 
 
 "Ulysses, look not on me angrily, 
 
 Thou who in other things art wise above 
 
 All other men. The gods have made our lot 
 
 A hard one, jealous lest we should have passed 
 
 Our youth together happily, and thus 
 
 Have reached old age. I pray, be not incensed, 
 
 Nor take it ill that I embraced thee not 
 
 As soon as I beheld thee, for my heart 
 
 Has ever trembled lest some one who comes 
 
 Into this isle should cozen me with words; 
 
 And they who practice fraud are numberless. 
 
 The Argive Helen, child of Jupiter, 
 
 Would ne'er have listened to a stranger's suit 
 
 And loved him, had she known that in the years 
 
 To come the warlike Greeks would bring her back 
 
 To her own land. It was a deity 
 
 Who prompted her to that foul wrong. Her thought 
 
 Was never of the great calamity 
 
 Which followed, and which brought such woe on us. 
 
 **But now, since thou by tokens clear and true. 
 Hast spoken of our bed, which human eye 
 Has never seen save mine and thine, and those 
 Of one my handmaid only, Actoris, — 
 Her whom my father gave me when I came 
 To this thy palace, and who kept the door 
 To our close chamber, — thou hast won my mind 
 To full belief, though hard it was to win." 
 
 She spake, and he was moved to tears; he wept 
 As in his arms he held his dearly loved 
 And faithful wife. As welcome as the land 
 To those who swim the deep, of whose stout bark 
 Neptune has made a wreck amid the waves. 
 Tossed by the billow and the blast, and few 
 Are those who from the hoary ocean reach 
 The shore, their limbs all crested with the brine. 
 These gladly climb the sea-beach and are safe, — 
 So welcome was her husband to her eyes. 
 
 These passages, and others like them, set forth what 
 
42 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 is really the central motive of the "Odyssey." But both 
 the great epics should be diligently and repeatedly studied 
 entire. Whether realistic, or, as the writer believes, 
 purely ideal, the picture they portray is the first large 
 view of European life we can descry. It is especially 
 gratifying to see the honorable place held by women in 
 the Homeric home. The later Greeks restricted her to a 
 life more like that of an Oriental harem. For this and other 
 reasons many students draw a fuller enjoyment from the 
 ** Odyssey" than from any masterpiece of the later Greek 
 literature. Certainly no apology will be needed for the 
 relatively large space here given to this humane, beautiful, 
 and ennobling story: the long tale of Helen's sin and 
 Troy's beleaguering: of the many heroes that perished 
 and the few that came safe home. For compared with 
 other literature, even in Greek lands and speech, Homeric 
 epic is one and indivisible. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 There are rhymed translations of the '*Odyssey" by Chap- 
 man, Pope (only a few books by his own hand), William Morris, 
 Way, etc., and especially by Worsley in the nine-line Spenserean 
 stanza. The last-named is closer than would seem possible, and 
 has a romantic charm not quite Homeric. Bryant's blank verse 
 is better suited to this poem than to the battle-scenes of the 
 "Iliad." The Macmillan prose version by Butcher and Lang is 
 excellent. Still easier, and more entrancing for a young reader, 
 is Professor Palmer's rendering in "rhythmical prose." 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 HESIOD'S WORKS AND DAYS 
 
 Rustic Thrift. 
 
 Many early epics, now lost save a few lines, were 
 ascribed by the Greeks to Homer. Some thirty '* Homeric 
 Hymns** are still extant. Though they often preserve an 
 early and interesting form of important myths, these 
 hymns are centuries younger than the * 'Odyssey." 
 Many of their lines are borrowed verbatim from the two 
 great epics. One of these hymns, probably the oldest, 
 was cited on an earlier page. 
 
 The name most frequently set beside Homer is Hesiod. 
 Of the two extant poems credited to him, the '^Theogony, " 
 a crudely philosophic attempt to set forth the origin of 
 the universe and the complicated kinship of the many 
 gods, is less interesting than the *' Works and Days.'* 
 This poem has for its chief lesson '*In the sweat of thy 
 brow shalt thou earn thy bread." The poet and his 
 brother, whom he addresses, are farmers in a poor Boeo- 
 tian village, A sera. Much of the advice given is as 
 homely as Poor Richard's or Thomas Tusser's. 
 
 Yet a poetic strain is also present. The dialect and 
 metre are essentially Homeric. When he rises to loftiest 
 subjects, however, such as the far-off golden age of the 
 past, Hesiod is still always pessimistic. Even the cham- 
 pionship of Prometheus has but hastened the swift degen- 
 eracy of man. The Pandora story, as told both here 
 
 43 
 
44 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 and, somewhat differently, in the **Theogony,*' shows 
 Hesiod to be a bitter woman-hater. 
 
 Some scholars regard the character of Hesiod as an 
 imaginative creation; but he is more generally felt to be 
 not merely realistic, but an actual person. Though lines 
 and couplets could very easily be, and probably were, 
 inserted from other poexus, or even composed, much 
 later, the ** Works and Days" as a whole may well date 
 back to the eighth century B.C. Its maxims often bring 
 us very close to the common Greek life and feeling. 
 
 The poem exercised much influence on the later 
 Greeks, and was the chief source for Virgil in his 
 *'Georgics.'* Here again, as with the '*IHad,*' how- 
 ever, we know little of the circumstances which created 
 this mass of poetry, of the men who composed or first 
 listened to it. Such a philosophic episode as the tale of 
 Pandora, the *' All-gifted," with its imaginative satire on 
 feminine curiosity, can hardly come from the same hands 
 as the homely maxims for rustic guidance. Many critics 
 say the poem has no real unity or plan. 
 
 Pandora 
 From ''Works and Days" 
 Zeus in the wrath of his heart hath hidden the means of 
 
 subsistence. 
 Wrathful because he once was deceived by the wily 
 
 Prometheus, 
 Therefore it was he devised most grievous trouble for 
 
 mortals. 
 Fire he hid: yet that, for men, did the gallant Prometheus 
 Steal, in a hollow reed, from the dwelling of Zeus the 
 
 Adviser; 
 Nor was he seen by the ruler of gods, who delights in the 
 
 thunder. 
 
Hesiod's Works and Days 45 
 
 Then, in his rage at the deed, cloud-gathering Zeus did 
 address him: 
 
 "lapetionides, in cunning greater than any, 
 
 Thou in the theft of fire, and deceit of me art exulting — 
 
 Source of grief for thyself, and for men who shall be here- 
 after. 
 
 I in the place of fire will give thee a bane, so that all men 
 
 May in spirit exult, and find in their misery comfort!" 
 
 Speaking thus, loud laughed he, the father of gods and 
 of mortals. 
 
 Then he commanded Hephaistos, the cunning artificer, 
 straightway 
 
 Mixing water and earth, with speech and force to endow it, 
 
 Making it like in face to the gods whose life is eternal. 
 
 Virginal, winning and fair, was the shape, and he ordered 
 Athene 
 
 Skillful devices to teach her, the beautiful works of the 
 weaver. 
 
 Then did he bid Aphrodite, the golden, endow her with 
 beauty. 
 
 Eager desire, and passion that wasteth the bodies of mor- 
 tals. 
 
 Hermes, guider of men,the destroyer of Argus, he ordered. 
 
 Lastly, a shameless mind to accord her, and treacherous 
 nature. 
 So did bespeak. They obeyed lord Zeus, who is off- 
 spring of Kronos. 
 
 Straightway out of the earth the renowned Artificer 
 
 fashioned 
 One like a shamefaced maid, at the will of the Ruler of 
 
 Heaven. 
 Girdle and ornament added the bright-eyed goddess 
 
 Athene, 
 Over her body the Graces divine, and noble Perauasion, 
 Hung their golden chains, and the Hours, with beautiful 
 
 tresses. 
 Wove her garlands of flowers, that bloom in the season of 
 
 springtime. 
 
46 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 All her adornment Pallas Athene fitted upon her; 
 
 Into her bosom Hermes the guide, the destroyer of Argus, 
 
 Falsehood, treacherous thoughts, and a thievish nature 
 
 imparted — 
 Such was the will of Zeus, who heavily thunders; and 
 
 lastly 
 Hermes, herald of gods, endowed her with speech, and 
 
 the woman 
 Named Pandora, because all gods who dwell in Olympus 
 Gave to her gifts that would make her a fatal bane unto 
 
 mortals. 
 
 When now Zeus had finished the snare so deadly and 
 
 certain. 
 Famous Argus-slayer, the herald of gods, he commanded. 
 Leading her thence, as a gift to bestow her upon Epi- 
 
 metheus. 
 He, then, failed to remember Prometheus had bidden him 
 
 never 
 Gifts to accept from Olympian Zeus, but still to return 
 
 them 
 Straightway, lest some evil befall thereby unto mortals. 
 So he received her — and then, when the evil befell, he 
 
 remembered. 
 Till that time, upon earth were dwelling the races of 
 
 mortals 
 Free and secure from trouble, and free from wearisome 
 
 labor. 
 Safe from painful diseases, that bring mankind to destruc- 
 tion: 
 (Since full swiftly in misery age unto mortals approacheth.) 
 Now with her hands Pandora the great lid raised from the 
 
 vessel. 
 Letting them loose; and grievous the evil for men she 
 
 provided. 
 Only Hope was left, in the dwelling securely imprisoned. 
 Since she under the edge of the cover had lingered, and 
 
 flew not 
 Forth; too soon Pandora had fastened the lid of the vessel. 
 
Hesiod's Works and Days 47 
 
 Such was the will of Zeus, cloudgatherer, lord of the gegis. 
 Numberless evils beside to the haunts of men had departed; 
 Full is the earth of ills, and full no less are the waters. 
 Freely diseases among mankind, by day and in darkness. 
 Hither and thither may pass, and bring much woe upon 
 
 mortals, — 
 Voiceless, since of speech high-counselling Zeus has 
 
 bereft them. 
 
 Rustic Maxims 
 
 From ^'Works and Days^^ 
 
 Never a man hath won him a nobler prize than a woman, 
 If she be good ; but again, there is naught else worse than 
 a bad one. 
 
 But do thou store these matters away in thy memory, 
 
 Perses! 
 Let not contention, the lover of mischief, withhold thee 
 
 from labor. 
 While in the market-place thou art hearkening, eager for 
 
 quarrels. 
 
 Once we our heritage shared already. Cajoling the 
 
 rulers, — 
 Men who were greedy for bribes, and were willing to 
 
 grant you the judgment — 
 You then plundered and carried away far more than your 
 
 portion. 
 Fools were they, unaware how the whole by a half is 
 
 exceeded : 
 Little they know how great is the blessing with mallow 
 
 and lentils. 
 
 Truly the gods keep hid from mortals the means of sub- 
 sistence ; 
 
 Else in a single day thou mightst well win from thy labor 
 
 What would suffice for a year, although thou idle remain- 
 est. 
 
 Ended then were the labors of toilsome mules and of oxen. 
 
4B Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Evil he worketh himself who worketh ill to another. 
 
 But remembering still my injunction, 
 Work, O Perses, sprung from the gods, that Famine may 
 
 ever 
 Hate you, and dear may you be to Demeter of beautiful 
 
 garlands — 
 Awesome one — and still may she fill thy gamers with 
 
 plenty. 
 
 Work is no disgrace; but the shame is, not to be working: 
 If you but work, then he who works not will envy you 
 
 quickly. 
 Seeing your wealth increase ; with wealth come honor and 
 
 glory. 
 
 Summon the man who loves thee to banquet ; thy enemy 
 
 bid not. 
 Summon him most of all who dwells most closely beside 
 
 thee; 
 Since if all that is strange or evil chance to befall thee, 
 Neighbors come ungirt, but kinsmen wait to be girded. 
 
 Take your fill when the cask is broached, and when it is 
 
 faihng. 
 Midway spare; at the lees it is not worth while to be 
 
 sparing. 
 
 Call — with a smile — for a witness, although 'tis your 
 brother you deal with. 
 
 Get thee a dwelling first, and a woman, and ox for the 
 
 ploughing: 
 Buy thou a woman, not wed her, that she may follow the 
 
 oxen. 
 
 This shall remedy be, if thou art belated in ploughing: 
 When in the leaves of the oak is heard the voice of the 
 
 cuckoo 
 First, that across the unbounded earth brings pleasure to 
 
 mortals. 
 
Hesiod*s Works and Days 49 
 
 Three days long let Zeus pour down his rains without 
 
 ceasing, 
 So that the ox-hoof's print it fills, yet not overflows it. 
 Then may the ploughman belated be equal with him who 
 
 was timely. 
 
 Pass by the seat at the forge, and the well-warmed tavern, 
 
 in winter. 
 This is the time when a man not slothful increases his 
 
 substance. 
 
 Shun thou seats in the shade, nor sleep till the dawn in the 
 
 season 
 When it is harvest time, and your skin is parched in the 
 
 sunshine. 
 
 Seek thou a homeless thrall, and a serving-maid who is 
 childless. 
 
 Praise thou a little vessel; bestow thou thy goods in a 
 large one. 
 
 Do not stow in the hollowed vessel the whole of thy sub- 
 stance; 
 
 Leave thou more behind, and carry the less for a cargo. 
 
 Hateful it is to meet with a loss on the watery billows; 
 
 Hateful too if, loading excessive weight on a wagon. 
 
 Thou shouldst crush thine axle, and so thy burden be 
 wasted. 
 
 Keep thou due moderation; all things have a fitting occa- 
 sion. 
 
 (Closing Lines) 
 
 Different men praise different days: they are rare who do 
 know them. 
 
 Often a day may prove as a stepmother, oft as a mother: 
 
 Blessed and happy is he who, aware of all that concerns 
 thee. 
 
 Wisely works at his task, unblamed in the sight of 
 immortals. 
 
 Judging the omens aright, and succeeds in avoiding trans- 
 gression. 
 
50 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 The rather old-fashioned metrical versions of Hesiod's two 
 chief works by Elton, closer and more recent prose versions, and 
 copious notes, are all contained in a most useful volume of Bohn's 
 Classical Library. The metrical extracts here given appeared 
 first in the volume "Successors of Homer," where the present 
 writer's fullest treatment of Hesiod will be found. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 LYRIC POETRY 
 
 Lyric poetry is probably the earliest form of literature. 
 In almost any race or clan, the war chant, marching 
 chorus, dirge, rhythmic prayer, song of victory, must be 
 needed, and created, long before any sustained epic 
 becomes possible. The "IHad" has allusions to such 
 earlier songs and singers. Yet we first hear of actual 
 Greek lyric poets, by name, from the seventh century B.C. 
 From 700 to 500 is especially the lyric epoch. Compara- 
 tively little has survived. In no field of Greek letters are 
 our losses so fatal, or so much to be deplored. A few 
 selections from this and later periods are given here, 
 especially those that touch more earnestly the chief chords 
 of life. A great part of the little lyrics collected in the 
 * 'Anthology" are anonymous, and most of them are also 
 post-classical in date; but they are often truly Greek in 
 grace and finish. 
 
 A Patriot Soldier 
 
 Verily glorious is it, and sweet, to contend with the foe- 
 man, 
 Fighting for children and wife, in the defence of our 
 land. 
 Holding the spear on high, and a stout heart under the 
 buckler 
 Throbbing, when at the first cometh the shock of the 
 fray. 
 
 — KallinoSf yoo B.C. 
 
 51 
 
52 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 A Hero's Choice 
 
 How glorious fall the valiant, sword in hand, 
 
 In front of battle for their native land! 
 
 But oh! what ills await the wretch that yields, 
 
 A recreant outcast from his country's fields! 
 
 The mother whom he loves shall quit her home, 
 
 An aged father at his side shall roam; 
 
 His little ones shall weeping with him go. 
 
 And a young wife participate his woe; 
 
 While scorned and scowled upon by every face. 
 
 They pine for food, and beg from place to place. 
 
 Stain of his breed! dishonouring manhood's form. 
 
 All ills shall cleave to him, affliction's storm 
 
 Shall blind him wandering in the vale of years. 
 
 Till, lost to all but ignominious fears. 
 
 He shall not blush to leave a recreant's name. 
 
 And children hke himself, inured to shame. 
 
 But we will combat for our father's land. 
 
 And we will drain the lifeblood where we stand. 
 
 To save our children: — fight ye side by side. 
 
 And serried close, ye men of youthful pride. 
 
 Disdaining fear, and dreaming light the cost 
 
 Of life itself in glorious battle lost. 
 
 Leave not our sires to stem the unequal fight. 
 
 Whose limbs are nerved no more with buoyant might ; 
 
 Nor, lagging backward, let the younger breast 
 
 Permit the man of age (a sight unblest) 
 
 To welter in the combat's foremost thrust. 
 
 His hoary head dishevelled in the dust. 
 
 And venerable bosom bleeding bare. 
 
 But youth's fair form, though fallen, is ever fair. 
 
 And beautiful in death the boy appears. 
 
 The hero boy, that dies in blooming years: 
 
 In man's regret he lives, and woman's tears,* 
 
 More sacred than in life, and lovelier far, 
 
 For having perished in the front of war. 
 
 — Tyrtaeus, 6j^ B.C. Translated by Campbell. 
 
Lyric Poetry 53 
 
 Crabbed Age and Youth 
 What's life or pleasure wanting Aphrodite? 
 
 When to the gold-haired goddess cold am I, 
 When love and love's soft gifts no more delight me, 
 
 Nor stolen dalliance, then I fain would die. 
 Ah! fair and lovely bloom the flowers of youth. 
 
 On men and maids they beautifully smile : 
 But soon comes doleful eld, who, void of ruth. 
 
 Indifferently afflicts the fair and vile; 
 Then cares wear out the heart; old eyes forlorn 
 
 Scarce reck the very sunshine to behold — 
 Unloved by youths, of every maid the scorn — 
 
 So hard a lot God lays upon the old. 
 — Mimnermus, 62 j B.C. Translated by J. A. SymondSj Sr. 
 
 A Soldier of Fortune 
 Gift of my own good spear is the wine and the bread well- 
 kneaded. 
 Leaning upon my lance quaff I Ismarian wine. 
 Bounden servant am I to Enyalios, ruler of battle : 
 Yea, and the Muses' gift glorious know I as well. 
 
 — Ar:hilochus, yth century B.C. 
 
 An Unconquerable Soul 
 Tossed on a sea of troubles, Soul, my Soul, 
 Thyself do thou control; 
 And to the weapons of advancing foes 
 A stubborn breast oppose; 
 Undaunted 'mid the hostile might 
 Of squadrons burning for the fight. 
 Thine be no boasting when the victor's crown 
 Wins thee deserved renown; 
 Thine no dejected sorrow, when defeat 
 Would urge a base retreat: 
 Rejoice in joyous things, nor overmuch 
 Let grief thy bosom touch 
 Midst evil, and still bear in mind 
 How changeful are the ways of humankind. 
 
 — Archilochus, translated by Wm. Hay. 
 
54 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 "He Hath Put Down the Mighty" 
 
 All unto the Gods are subject: often out of wretchedness 
 Mortal men do they uplift who on the black earth prostrate 
 
 lie: 
 Often also overturning them that prosperously march, 
 Flat upon their faces lay them 
 
 A Womanly Retort 
 
 Something I fain would utter, yet am checked 
 By shame. 
 
 But if your wish were noble or virtuous. 
 If on your tongue naught ill had been quivering, 
 Then shame would not have closed your eyeHds, 
 Fitting the words you would utter fitly. 
 
 —Alcceus and Sappho, 600 B.C. 
 
 Motherlove 
 
 I have a child, a lovely one. 
 
 In beauty Hke the golden sun, 
 
 Or like sweet flowers that earliest bloom; 
 
 And Cleis is her name, for whom 
 
 I Lydia's treasures, were they mine, 
 
 Would glad resign. 
 
 — Sappho. Translated by Merivale. 
 
 Eventide 
 
 Oh Hesperus ! Thou bringest all things home ; 
 All that the garish day hath scattered wide; 
 The sheep, the goat, back to the welcome fold; 
 Thou bring'st the child, too, to his mother's side. 
 — Sappho. Translated by Wm. H. Appleton. 
 
 Two Epitaphs for the Three Hundred Heroes 
 OF Thermopyl^ 
 
 Go, tell the Spartans, thou that passest by. 
 That here obedient to their laws we die. 
 — Simonides, ^00 B.C. Translated by 7/ 
 
Lyric Poetry 55 
 
 Of those who at Thermopylae were slain, 
 
 Glorious the doom, and beautiful the lot; 
 
 Their tomb an altar; men from tears refrain 
 
 To honour them, and praise, but mourn them not. 
 
 Such sepulchre, nor drear decay 
 
 Nor all-destroying time shall waste; this right have they. 
 
 Within their grave the home-bred glory 
 
 Of Greece was laid: this witness gives 
 
 Leonidas the Spartan, in whose story 
 
 A wreath of famous virtue ever lives. 
 
 — Simonides, Translated by John Stirling. 
 
 Frailty of Man 
 
 Hard is it to become a good man truly. 
 
 Foursquare in heart and hands and feet, 
 
 Without a fault, complete. 
 Methought not duly 
 
 — Sage though he was — Pittacos' maxim ran: 
 "'Tis hard" quoth he, *'to be a noble man." 
 Only a god that prize may win. 
 Not wholly free is any one from sin, 
 
 For desperate disaster smites us still. 
 Each man is virtuous in his happy hours, 
 
 Evil in times of ill: 
 So most the mightiest men, dear to the heavenly powers. 
 
 — Simonides. 
 
 The Passing Hour 
 
 Take thy delight, my soul; another day 
 Another race shall see, and I be breathless clay. 
 Vain mortals, and unwise ! who mourn the hour 
 Of death, not that of youth's departing flower. 
 For all, whom once the earth hath covered o'er. 
 Go down to Erebus' unjoyous shore. 
 Delight no more to hear the lyre's soft sound. 
 Nor pass the jocund cups of Bacchus round. 
 So thou, my soul, shalt revel at thy will. 
 While light is yet my hand, my head untrembling still 
 — Theognisj 540 B.C. Translated by H. H. Milman. 
 
56 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 The Best of Blessings 
 
 The best of gifts to mortal man is health; 
 
 The next the bloom of beauty's matchless flower; 
 The third is blameless and unfraudful wealth; 
 
 The fourth to waste with friends youth's joyful hour. 
 
 — Anonymous. 
 
 The Gifts of Peace 
 
 To mortal men peace giveth these good things: 
 Wealth and the flowers of honey-throated song; 
 
 The flame that springs 
 On carven altars from fat sheep and kine, 
 
 Slain to the gods in heaven; and, all day long, 
 Games for glad youths, and flutes, and wreaths, and 
 
 circling wine. 
 Then in the steely shield swart spiders weave 
 
 Their web and dusky woof: 
 Rust to the pointed spear and sword doth cleave; 
 The brazen trump sounds no alarms; 
 
 Nor is sleep harried from our eyes aloof. 
 But with sweet rest my bosom warms: 
 The streets are thronged with lovely men and young. 
 And hymns in praise of boys like flames to heaven are 
 flung. 
 
 — Bacchylides, 450 B.C. Translated by J. A. Symonds. 
 
 Lover's Bliss 
 
 Sweet in summer is snow for the thirsty drink; for the 
 
 sailor 
 After the winter is past, sweet is the garland of spring: 
 Sweetest of all when two underneath one mantle are 
 
 sheltered, 
 While by the twain at once told is the story of love. 
 
 — From the Anthology. 
 
 The miscellaneous collection of brief poems known as 
 
Lyric Poetry 57 
 
 the Greek Anthology is evidently gathered from many 
 centuries of Hellenic song. So too the lighter verses 
 known as the Anacreontics were composed by various 
 later imitators of the real Anacreon, who sang of wine, 
 passion, and song in the sixth century B.C. 
 
 The Cicada 
 
 Happy insect! what can be 
 
 In happiness compared to thee.? 
 
 Fed with nourishment divine. 
 
 The dewy morning's gentle wine! 
 
 Nature waits upon thee still, 
 
 And thy verdant cup does fill; 
 
 'Tis filled wherever thou dost tread. 
 
 Nature's self's thy Ganymede. 
 
 Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing; 
 
 Happier than the happiest king! 
 
 All the fields which thou dost see, 
 ; All the plants, belong to thee; 
 
 I All that summer hours produce, 
 
 ; Fertile made with early juice. 
 
 Man for thee does sow and plow; 
 
 Farmer he, and landlord thou! 
 • Thou dost innocently joy; 
 
 Nor does thy luxury destroy; 
 
 The shepherd gladly heareth thee. 
 
 More harmonious than he. 
 
 Thee country hinds with gladness hear. 
 
 Prophet of the ripened year! 
 
 Thee Phoebus loves, and does inspire; 
 
 Phoebus is himself thy sire. 
 \ To thee, of all things upon Earth, 
 
 ! Life's no longer than thy mirth. 
 
 i Happy insect, happy thou! 
 
 Dost neither age nor winter know; 
 
 But when thou'st drunk, and danced, and sung 
 
 Thy fill, the flowery leaves among. 
 
58 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 (Voluptuous, and wise withal, 
 Epicurean animal!) 
 Sated with thy summer feast, 
 Thou retir'st to endless rest. 
 
 — Cowley s translation. 
 
 Greek lyric culminated in Pindar, a Theban poet who 
 lived through the Persian wars. His chief contemporary 
 rivals were the two great poets born in the island of Keos, 
 Simonides and Bacchyhdes, uncle and nephew. All 
 three wrote, as a rule, not very brief personal lyrics, but 
 sustained poems for choral performance. From Simon- 
 ides we have only fragments, or short complete poems, 
 such as were quoted above. Of Pindar's work we pos- 
 sess one large section, those choral songs, namely, that 
 immortalize athletic victors in any of the four great 
 national contests, the most famous of all being the quad- 
 rennial Olympic games. All such strife for excellence 
 and victory was accounted especially pleasing to the gods. 
 
 Beside these eighty Pindaric odes, a happy discovery 
 in Egypt set, a few years ago, a score of Bacchylides' 
 chief poems. Curiously enough, of these also fourteen 
 are **Epinikia," songs for the triumph of athletes. Our 
 own athletic revival in recent years gives an especial inter- 
 est to this phase of Greek Hfe. 
 
 Pindar's most famous prelude runs: 
 
 As he that with a lavish hand a cup doth lift 
 Plashing with dew of grapes within, 
 And proffers it, a gift. 
 To him who newly with his child is wed: 
 A pledge from home to home 'tis sped. 
 All-golden, of his treasure the most choice, 
 Wherewith the banquet shall rejoice. 
 And honors so his kin, — 
 
Lyric Poetry 59 
 
 Because the youth is made among his friends 
 Envied for marriage that such largess sends, — 
 So I the outpoured nectar which the Muses gave, 
 Sweet fruitage of the poet's soul, my lay, 
 Sending to them that bear the prize away. 
 Honor the heroes brave 
 Who at Olympia and Pytho win. 
 
 As to the dignity of his own task Pindar has no doubts. 
 
 His masterpiece, the first *' Olympian," ends with 
 
 these proud words to Hiero, the great lord of Syracuse: 
 
 Men in various paths are great: 
 
 By kings the crest supreme is won; look not beyond. 
 
 Be thine aloft to tread thy space of time. 
 
 Mine ever with the victors to commune. 
 
 Myself among Hellenes everywhere 
 
 For skill in song illustrious. 
 
 The occasion of all this proud and lofty utterance is 
 merely the victory of a saddle horse from Hiero's stables! 
 
 It would be doubly interesting if we could gather from 
 these poets a truthful picture of such national Greek con- 
 tests early in the glorious fifth century B.C. Each ode is 
 largely taken up, however, with praise of the victor's 
 ancestors or native city, and with a myth whose appli- 
 cation we can usually only surmise. We do gain, at least, 
 a lively general impression of the religious and patriotic 
 fervor, the enthusiastic eagerness for success, displayed 
 in these contests. Statues, gifts of money and other 
 treasures, political and social distinction in the home 
 city, were showered on the successful athlete. Yet the 
 poet seems not to doubt that his own song is the most 
 precious boon of all. 
 
 There is, however, no one of these songs for victors 
 
6o Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 which seems to make full and direct appeal to alien men. 
 We can more fully enjoy a poem evidently composed for 
 an Athenian audience, embodying one phase of that most 
 famous Attic tale, the Theseus-myth. In its own fashion, 
 or rather under true Hellenic forms, it seems to touch on 
 the fatherhood of the divinity, the certainty of answer to 
 the prayer of undoubting faith. 
 
 Athens is supposed, at the epoch here indicated, to be 
 helpless under the wrath of her overlord Minos of Crete, 
 and is compelled to send annual tribute of noble youths 
 and maidens, to be devoured by the monster Minotaur in 
 the famous labyrinth. Prince Theseus volunteers to share, 
 or avert, their doom. The intended victims are here de- 
 scribed as voyaging toward Crete on board the tyrant's 
 own ship, when a new lawless caprice seizes on him. 
 The courage of Prince Theseus on this occasion fore- 
 shadows his success in saving his comrades, and releasing 
 Athens from the hateful tribute. 
 
 The Youths, or Theseus 
 Bacchylides 
 The vessel with the purple prow that bore 
 The steadfast Theseus and twice seven with him, 
 Beautiful youths and maids Ionian, 
 Was cutting Cretan waters; for the gusts 
 Of Boreas, sent by the illustrious 
 Athene of the warring aegis, ^ fell 
 On the far- shining sail. Then the dread boon 
 Of fair-crowned Cypris^ smote King Minos* heart. 
 His hand no more he from the maid withheld. 
 But touched her pale cheeks. Eriboia then 
 Upon Pandion's' gallant offspring called. 
 
 iThe divine shield borne by Pallas Athene in battle. 
 2 Aphrodite. Her dangerous gift is passionate love. 
 sPandion was an ancestor of Theseus. 
 
Lyric Poetry 6 1 
 
 Theseus beheld it. Underneath his brow 
 
 Dark rolled his eye, his heart within was gnawed 
 
 By pain unbearable; and thus he spake: 
 
 ''Son of high Zeus, no more a righteous heart 
 
 Thou rulest in thy breast! Hero, abstain 
 
 From violence. Whatever from the gods 
 
 On us resistless Destiny bestows. 
 
 And Justice in her balance weigheth out. 
 
 We will endure, when doom appointed comes; 
 
 But thou, restrain thy soul from lawless deeds. 
 
 Although of men the mightiest, and born 
 
 By Phoenix's fair-named daughter underneath 
 
 The crest of Ida, — and of Zeus begot: 
 
 Yet wealthy Pittheus' daughter's child am I, 
 
 She with Poseidon, the sea's lord, did wed,^ 
 
 And dark-tressed Nereids gave her golden veil. 
 
 And therefore, warlord thou of Gnossian men, 
 
 I bid thee check thy grievous insolence. 
 
 May I behold no more the light divine 
 
 Of lovely dawn, if thou unwelcome hand 
 
 On one among our youthful band shalt lay. 
 
 Rather will we our strength of arm show forth. 
 
 — The issue the divinity shall judge." 
 
 So spake the hero, valiant with the spear. 
 At his audacious courage stood amazed 
 The sailors, wrath was in the heart of him 
 That wedded Helios' daughter.^ Then he planned 
 A strange device, and thus he spoke: 
 
 "O Zeus, 
 Omnipotent, my father, if in truth 
 White-armed Phoenissa bare me unto thee, 
 Send now from Heaven an undoubted sign. 
 Thy lightning fiery-maned! — 
 
 And if thee, too, 
 Unto Poseidon shaker of the world 
 Troezenian ^thra did indeed conceive, 
 
 1 Theseus, as son of Poseidon, claims to be of nearly equal birth with Minos, 
 the son of Zeus. 
 
 2 Minos had married Pasiphae, daughter of Helios the sungod. 
 
62 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Then cast thee boldly to thy father's halls, 
 And from the deep sea fetch this golden ring! 
 Thou'lt know if Kronos* son, the thunder's lord. 
 The monarch over all, hath heard my prayer." 
 
 That haughty prayer by Zeus supreme was heard, 
 And wondrous honor he to Minos gave. 
 Sending his child a signal clear to all. 
 He flashed the lightning; and his son beheld 
 The welcome marvel: toward the Heaven aloft 
 Both hands he raised, — and unto Theseus thus 
 The hero, steadfast in the combat, spake: 
 ''Theseus, thou seest the undoubted sign 
 Of Zeus; and thou, to the deep- roaring sea 
 Betake thee, if thy father, Kronos' son 
 As well, accord thee honor more than all 
 That dwell on fertile earth." 
 
 Such were his words. 
 The Athenian's gallant heart was nowise quelled. 
 On the firm deck he took his stand, and plunged. 
 While eagerly the waters welcomed him. 
 Then melted was the son of Zeus in heart. 
 And bade them keep before the wind the ship 
 Fair- wrought. 
 
 The Fates devised another way. 
 Swift fared the vessel forward, and the blast 
 Of Boreas from behind her drove her on. 
 As seaward leaped the hero, terror fell 
 On all the band of young Athenians : 
 The tears were flowing from their tender eyes, 
 The while they waited for the heavy doom. 
 
 By dolphins, dwellers in the briny sea. 
 Great Theseus toward his knightly father's hall 
 Was borne, and to the gods' abode he came. 
 There he famed Nereus' glorious daughters ^ saw 
 With fear; for from their bodies splendor rayed 
 Firelike, and golden were the snoods that waved 
 About their locks. Then with their supple feet 
 
 > The sea nymphs. 
 
Lyric Poetry 6^ 
 
 They made his heart delighted as they danced. 
 
 He saw his father's large-eyed stately wife, 
 
 Dear Amphitrite, in her lovely halls. 
 
 A purple mantle she did put on him, 
 
 And on his curling locks a faultless wreath. 
 
 With roses dark, that on her wedding day 
 
 From crafty Aphrodite she received. 
 
 Whatever gods accomplish is, to men 
 Endowed with sense, nowise incredible. 
 Beside the shapely vessel he appeared! 
 The Gnossian chieftain's haughty hopes were crushed. 
 When from the stainless sea he issued forth. 
 To all a marvel! Bright about his form 
 The gifts of gods were gleaming. Then the maids. 
 Enthroned in beauty, raised a joyous cry 
 In new- won happiness: the waters roared; 
 His youthful comrades gathered to his side 
 And with sweet voices sang a hymn of praise. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 This is not a subject which can be very profitably pursued by 
 the unaided student in English. For many excellent versions see 
 Appleton's "Greek 'Poetry in English Verse," and Symonds* 
 "Greek Poets." For Sappho, see the beautiful volume of Whar- 
 ton, containing every fragment, with one or more translations of 
 each. Theognis has been all too ingeniously rendered and recon- 
 structed by Frere (Bohn Library). For Pindar there is a good 
 prose version by Myers, and various older verse translations, from 
 Gilbert West in 1749 to Moberly's and Morice's in 1876. The 
 magnificent rendering of the first Pythian ode contributed by Pro- 
 fessor A. G. Newcomer to the "Library of the World's Best 
 Literature," is, we believe, but a foretaste of a most desirable 
 larger undertaking. The enjoyable poems of Bacchylides are 
 partially presented, in prose, in a thin volume by E. Poste. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 iESCHYLUS AND THE PROMETHEUS 
 The Heroism of Endurance. 
 
 At the beginning of the fifth century (in 490 and 
 480-79 B.C.) Athens twice played a leading part in 
 repelling the invading Persians. With her poHtical 
 superiority came a still more decided preeminence in 
 literature and art. Before Pindar and Bacchylides died, 
 Attic tragedy arose. The careers of the three chief tragic 
 poets are wholly included in the fifth century B.C. 
 
 In all Greek drama, it is essential to remember, the 
 choral songs are the oldest element, the acting is an inno- 
 vation, -^schylus, by adding a second actor, made 
 possible a dialogue in which not even the leader of the 
 chorus took a share. The whole performance was but a 
 portion of a spring festival in honor of Bacchus or Diony- 
 sus, the favorite nature-god, and probably had little 
 artistic or religious seriousness until ^schylus became its 
 master. Three competing poets offered each four plays, 
 three tragedies with a lighter after-piece, ^schylus 
 usually, perhaps always, made the three — or even the 
 four — plays parts of one great mythic action. The sub- 
 jects are regularly drawn from the legends of a remote 
 and fabulous past. 
 
 We have extant, for example, his three tragedies: on 
 the murder of the home-returning Agamemnon, with the 
 deadly vengeance wreaked, years later, on his wife and 
 
 64 
 
iEschylus and the Prornetheus 65 
 
 her lover, by the young Orestes, and the final absolution 
 of the latter from the guilt of matricide. So the three 
 generations of King CEdipus' unhappy line made the three 
 dramas of the Theban trilogy, though only one of these 
 three plays survives. 
 
 Of the three, or four, Prometheus plays it is clearly the 
 first that has come down to us. The fearless rebel, the 
 stoical sufferer, the tortured divine friend of man, has 
 always excited the warmest sympathy. Yet we know that 
 ^schylus depicted also, in the later dramas of the series, 
 his complete submission and confession of error. Indeed, 
 the strength, the wisdom, the complete supremacy of Zeus, 
 even his large benignant purposes, for men as well as for 
 gods, must have been fully vindicated, ^schylus was 
 quite too large-minded, and too devout, to see any chaotic 
 or capricious element in the divine government of the 
 world. Even in this first play, Prometheus has the sym- 
 pathy, but not the approval, of every other character. 
 Even lo, the homeless wanderer, is to be more than 
 repaid for all her suffering, for through it the coming of 
 her descendant Heracles, the deliverer of man and even 
 of divine Prometheus, shall be made possible. 
 
 The play requires only two actors, an indication of 
 early date. In the first scene Force is a mute, and Prome- 
 theus, also silent, is probably a wooden image. One of 
 the actors could climb up behind this figure and speak his 
 part in the later scenes. 
 
66 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND 
 
 Prologue 
 Heph^estos, the Smith-god, enters, followed by Strength 
 and Force dragging Prometheus 
 Strength 
 
 To Earth's remotest plain we now are come. 
 To Scythia's confine, an untrodden waste. 
 Hephaestos! Thou the mandates must observe 
 Enjoin'd thee by thy sire; this miscreant 
 'Gainst lofty-beethng rocks to clasp in fetters 
 Of adamantine bonds, unbreakable. 
 For that the splendor of all- working fire. 
 Thy proper flower, he stole and gave to mortals. 
 Such crime he to the gods must expiate; 
 So may he learn the sovereignty of Zeus 
 To bear, and cease from mortal-loving wont. 
 
 HEPHiESTOS 
 
 Ho! Strength and Force, for you the word of Zeus 
 
 Its goal hath reached, no obstacle remains; 
 
 But I of daring lack, a brother god 
 
 Fast to this storm-vexed cleft perforce to bind. 
 
 Yet so to dare is sheer necessity; 
 
 For grievous 'tis the father's words to slight. 
 
 (To Prometheus) 
 
 Right-judging Themis' lofty-thoughted son. 
 Thee 'gainst thy will must I unwilling nail 
 With stubborn shackles to this desert height. 
 Where neither voice nor form of living man 
 Shall meet thy ken; but, shrivelled by the blaze 
 Of the bright sun, thy skin's fair bloom shall wither; 
 Welcome to thee shall glittering-vestured night 
 O'erveil the brightness; welcome, too, the sun 
 Shall with new beams scatter the morning rime; 
 Thus evermore shall weight of present ill 
 
^schylus and the Prometheus 67 
 
 Outwear thee : for as yet is no one born 
 Who may relieve thy pain: such meed hast thou 
 From mortal-loving wont: — for thou, a god, 
 Not crouching to the wrath of gods, didst bring 
 To mortal men high gifts, transgressing right. 
 Hence shalt thou sentinel this joyless rock, 
 Erect, unsleeping, bending not the knee; 
 And many a moan shalt pour and many a plaint. 
 Vainly; for Zeus obdurate is of heart; 
 And harsh is every one when new of sway. 
 
 Strength 
 
 Let be! Why dally and vain pity vent? 
 This god, to gods most hateful, why not hate, 
 Who thy prerogative to men betrayed? 
 
 Heph^stos 
 Awful is kindred blood and fellowship. 
 
 Strength 
 
 True, but the father's word to disobey — 
 
 How may that be? Fearest not that still more? 
 
 Heph^estos 
 Alas! My much-detested handicraft! 
 
 Strength 
 
 Why hate thy craft? for, sooth to say, thine art 
 Is no way guilty of these present woes. 
 
 HEPaESTOS 
 
 Yet would that it to other hand had fallen. 
 
 Strength 
 All save o'er gods to rule, vexatious is, 
 For none is free, save father Zeus alone. 
 
 Heph^stos 
 Too well I know it: answer have I none. 
 
 or -HE 
 UNIVCRSITY 
 
 OF 
 dLlFORNXfcs 
 
68 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Strength 
 
 Haste then: around the culprit cast these bonds 
 Lest father Zeus behold thee loitering. 
 
 Heph^stos 
 Behold the shackles ready here for use. 
 
 Strength 
 
 Cast them around his hands: with mighty force 
 Smite with the hammer, nail him to the rocks. 
 
 Heph^stos 
 The work so far is finished; not amiss. 
 
 Strength 
 
 Strike harder yet: clench fast: be nowhere slack. 
 His wit will find a way where no way is. 
 
 HEPH.ESTOS 
 
 This arm, at least, is fast beyond escape. 
 
 Strength 
 
 This too clamp firmly down: so may he learn. 
 Shrewd though he be, he duller is than Zeus. 
 
 HEPHiESTOS 
 
 No one but he could justly censure me. 
 Strength 
 
 Of adamantine wedge the stubborn fang 
 
 Straight through his breast now drive, right sturdily. 
 
 HEPHiESTOS 
 
 Like to thy shape the utterance of thy tongue. 
 
 Strength 
 
 Be thou soft-hearted: but upbraid not me 
 For stubborn will and ruggedness of heart. 
 
iEschylus and the Prometheus 69 
 
 Heph^estos 
 Let us begone; his limbs are iron-meshed. 
 
 Strength (to Prometheus) 
 Here taunt away, and the gods' honours filching, 
 Bestow on creatures of a day; from thee 
 How much can mortals of these woes drain off? 
 Thee falsely do the gods Prometheus name, 
 For a Prometheus thou thyself dost need. 
 To plan releasement from this handiwork. 
 
 {Exeunt Heph^stos, Strength, and Force). 
 
 Prometheus 
 Oh holy ether, swiftly-winged gales. 
 Fountains of rivers and of ocean-waves 
 Innumerable laughter, general mother Earth, 
 And orb all-seeing of the sun, I call : 
 Behold what I, a god, from gods endure. 
 
 See, wasted by what pains 
 Wrestle I must while myriad time shall flow! 
 Such ignominious chains 
 Hath he who newly reigns. 
 Chief of the blest, devised against me. Woe! 
 Ah woe ! the torture of the hour 
 I wail, ay, and of anguish'd throes 
 The future dower. 
 
 How, when, shall rise a limit to these woes.? 
 
 And yet what say I? clearly I foreknow 
 
 All that must happen; nor can woe betide 
 
 Stranger to me; the Destined it behooves. 
 
 As best I may, to bear, for well I wot 
 
 How incontestable the strength of Fate. 
 
 Yet in such strait silence to keep is hard 
 
 Hard not to keep; — for, bringing gifts to mortals. 
 
 Myself in these constraints hapless am yoked. 
 
 Stored within hollow wand fire's stealthy fount 
 
 I track, which to mankind in every art. 
 
 Hath teacher proved, and mightiest resource. 
 
yo Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Such forfeits I for such offences pay,— 
 Beneath the welkin nailed in manacles. 
 
 Hist! Hist! what sound 
 What odour floats invisibly around, 
 Of God, or man, or intermediate kind? 
 
 Comes to this rocky bound, 
 One to behold my woes, or seeking aught? 
 A god ye see in fetters, anguish fraught; 
 The foe of Zeus, in hatred held of all 
 The deities who throng Zeus' palace-hall; 
 For that to men I bore too fond a mind. 
 Woe, woe ! what rustling sound 
 Hard by, as if of birds, doth take mine ear? 
 
 Whistles the ether round 
 With the light whirr of pinions hovering near. 
 Whate'er approaches filleth me with fear. 
 
 (Enter chorus of Ocean Nymphs borne in a winghd car.) 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Fear not ! A friendly troop we reach 
 On rival-speeding wind this cliff forlorn; 
 Our sire's consent wringing by suasive speech, 
 Me swift-escorting gales have hither borne. 
 For iron's clanging note 
 Piercing our caves' recesses rang. 
 And bashful shyness from me smote; — 
 Forthwith on winged car, unshod, aloft I sprang. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Alas! Alas! Woe! Woe! 
 Prolific Tythys' offspring, progeny 
 Of sire Oceanos, whose sleepless flow 
 All the wide earth encircles! gaze and see 
 Bound with what fetters, ignominiously, 
 I, on the summit of this rock-bound steep, 
 
 Shall watch unenvied keep. 
 
-^schylus and the Prometheus 71 
 
 Chorus 
 
 I see, Prometheus, and through fear 
 Doth mist of many tears mine eyes bedew, 
 As, 'gainst this rock, parched up, in tortures drear, 
 Of adamantine bonds, thy form I view. 
 For helmsmen new of sway 
 Olympos hold; by laws new-made 
 Zeus wieldeth empire, impulse-swayed; 
 The mighty ones of old he sweeps away. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 'Neath earth, 'neath Hades' shade-receiving plains, 
 Sheer down to Tartaros' unmeasured gloom 
 Would he had hurled me ruthless, bound with chains 
 That none may loose;-— So then at this my doom 
 Had no one mock'd, — nor god, nor other kind. 
 But now most wretched, sport of every wind, 
 Foes triumph o'er my pains. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Who of the gods a heart doth own 
 
 So hard, to mock at thy despair? 
 
 Who at thy woes, save Zeus alone. 
 
 Doth not thine anguish share? 
 
 But ruthless still, with soul unbent, 
 The heavenly race he tames, nor will refrain 
 
 Till sated to his heart's content; 
 Or till another, by some cunning snare 
 Wrest from his grasp the firmly-guarded reign. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Yet e'en of me although now wrung 
 In stubborn chains shall he have need. 
 This ruler of the blest — to read 
 The counsel new, by which his sway 
 And honours shall be stript away. 
 But not persuasion's honied tongue 
 
72 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 My steadfast soul shall charm; 
 Nor will I, crouching in alarm, 
 Divulge the secret, till these savage chains 
 He loose, and yield requital for my pains. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Daring thou art, and yieldest nought 
 
 For bitter agony; with tongue 
 
 Unbridled thou art all too free. 
 
 But by keen fear my heart is stung; 
 
 I tremble for thy doom — ah, me ! 
 Thy barque into what haven may'st thou steer. 
 
 Of these dire pangs the end to see? 
 For inaccessible, of mood severe 
 Is Kronos' son, inflexible his thought. 
 
 FIRST EPISODE 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 That Zeus is stern full well I know 
 And by his will doth measure right . 
 But, smitten by this destined blow, 
 Softened shall one day be his might. 
 Then curbing his harsh temper, he 
 Full eagerly will hither wend, 
 To join in league and amity with me, 
 Eager no less to welcome him as friend. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 To us thy tale unfold, the whole speak out; 
 Upon what charge Zeus, seizing thee, doth thus 
 Outrage with harsh and ignominious pain? 
 Inform us, if the teUing breed no harm. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Grievous to me it is these things to tell. 
 
 Grief to be silent; trouble every way. 
 
 When first the heavenly powers were moved to rage, 
 
-^schylus and the Prometheus 73 
 
 And in opposing factions ranged their might, 
 
 These wishing Kronos from his seat to hurl 
 
 That Zeus forsooth might reign; these, counterwise. 
 
 Resolved that o'er the gods Zeus> ne'er should rule; 
 
 Then I with sagest counsel strove to move 
 
 The Titans,^ progeny of Heaven and Earth, 
 
 But strove in vain, for they, in stubborn souls 
 
 Of crafty wiles disdainful, thought by force. 
 
 An easy task, the mastery to gain. 
 
 But me, not once, but oft, my mother Themis, 
 
 And Earth (one shape with many names) had told 
 
 Prophetic, how the future should be wrought: 
 
 That not by strength of thew or hardiment 
 
 Should mastery be compassed, but by guile ; 
 
 But when this lore I did expound in words. 
 
 They deigned me not a single look, whereon. 
 
 Of courses free to choose, the wisest seemed 
 
 Leagued with my mother, of my own free will 
 
 The will of Zeus to meet, siding with him. 
 
 And by my counsels black-roofed Tartaros* 
 
 Murky abyss primeval Kronos now 
 
 Engulfs with his allies. Such benefits 
 
 From me the tyrant of the gods received. 
 
 And hath requited with these base returns. 
 
 For, some way cleaveth aye to tyranny 
 
 This fell disease: to have no faith in friends. ^ 
 
 But touching now your question, on what charge 
 
 He thus maltreats me; this will I make clear. 
 
 When seated on his father's throne, forthwith. 
 
 He to the several gods was dealing out 
 
 Their several honours, marshalling out his realm; 
 
 But he of toil-worn mortals took no count ; 
 
 The race entire he ardently desired 
 
 To quench, and plant a new one in its stead. 
 
 1 These are the brothers of Kronos; one of them, Oceanus, appears in a 
 later scene. The rest have been imprisoned ever since the war here men- 
 tioned. As Kronos had led in the assault on his own father, Ouranos or 
 Heaven, so he is now dethroned by his son Zeus. 
 
 2 Such sentiments of course appealed to the democratic audieqce in the 
 A t.)ienian theatre. 
 
74 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 And none but I opposed his purposes; 
 I dared alone; — I saved the mortal race 
 From sinking blasted down to Hades* gloom. 
 For this by these dire tortures I am bent, 
 Grievous to suffer, piteous to behold. 
 I who did mortals pity, of like grace 
 Am deem'd unworthy, — But am grimly thus 
 Tuned to his will, a sight of shame to Zeus. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Iron of heart, ay, fashioned out of rock 
 Who at thy pangs thine anger shareth not, 
 Prometheus; for myself, fain had I shunned 
 This sight; — beholding it, my heart is wrung. 
 
 Prometheus 
 To friends, in sooth, a spectacle of woe. 
 
 Chorus 
 But beyond this didst haply aught essay? 
 
 Prometheus 
 Mortals I hindered from foreseeing death. 
 
 Chorus 
 Finding what medicine for this disease? 
 
 Prometheus 
 Blind hopes I caused within their hearts to dwell. 
 
 Chorus 
 Vast boon was this thou gavest unto mortals. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Yea, and besides 'twas I that gave them fire. 
 
^schylus and the Prometheus 75 
 
 Chorus 
 Have now these short-lived creatures flame-eyed fire? 
 
 Prometheus 
 Ay, and by it full many arts will learn. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Upon such charges doth Zeus outrage thee, " 
 
 Nor aught abateth of thy miseries? 
 
 To this dire struggle is no term assigned? 
 
 « 
 
 Prometheus 
 No other but what seemeth good to him. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 How can this be? What hope? Seest thou not 
 That thou hast erred? But in what way hast erred, 
 That to unfold, — while me it gladdens not. 
 To thee is pain. Forbear we then this theme; 
 But from this struggle seek thou some escape. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Whoso his foot holdeth unmeshed of harm, 
 
 For him 'tis easy to exhort and warn 
 
 One sorely plagued. But this I all foreknew; 
 
 Of will, free will, I erred, nor will gainsay it. 
 
 Mortals abetting I myself found bale; 
 
 Not that I thought, with penalties like these, 
 
 To wither thus against skypiercing rocks, 
 
 Doom'd to this drear and solitary height. 
 
 But ye, no further wail my present woes. 
 But, on the ground alighting, hear from me 
 On-gliding fate — so shall ye learn the end. 
 Yield to me, prithee yield, and grieve with him 
 Who now is wretched. Thus it is that grief 
 Ranging abroad alights on each in turn. 
 
76 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Chorus 
 
 To no unwilling ears thy words 
 Appeal, Prometheus; and with nimble feet 
 Leaving our swiftly- wafted seat 
 And holy ether, track of birds, 
 I to this rugged ground draw near; 
 Thy woes from first to last I fain would hear. 
 
 (Enter Oceanos, riding on a griffin or seamonster.) 
 
 OCEANOS 
 
 The goal of my long course I gain. 
 
 And come, Prometheus, to thy side. 
 This swift- winged bird without a bit I reign. 
 
 My will his only guide. 
 Compassion for thy fate, be sure, I feel; 
 Thereto the tie of kin constraineth me ; 
 But blood apart, to no one would I deal 
 
 More honour than to thee. 
 That true my words thou soon shalt know; 
 
 No falsely glozing tongue is mine ; 
 Come, how I may assist thee plainly show, 
 For than Oceanos a friend more leal 
 
 Thou ne'er shalt boast as thine. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Hal What means this? Art thou too hither come 
 
 Spectator of my pangs? How hast thou dared. 
 
 Quitting thy namesake flood, thy rock-roof'd caves 
 
 Self-wrought, this iron-teeming land to reach? 
 
 Art come .^ndeed to gaze upon my doom. 
 
 And with my grievous woes to sympathize? 
 
 A spectacle behold; — this friend of Zeus, 
 
 This co-appointer of his sovereignty. 
 
 By what dire anguish I by him am bow'd. 
 
iEschylus and the Prometheus 77 
 
 OCEANOS 
 
 I see, Prometheus, and would fain to thee. 
 As subtle as thou art, best counsel give; 
 Know thine own self, thy manner mould anew. 
 For new the monarch who now rules the gods; 
 But if thou thus harsh, keenly-whetted words 
 Still hurlest, Zeus, though thron'd so far aloft, 
 Mayhap may hear thee, so the pangs which now 
 His wrath inflicts but childish sport may seem. 
 But come, O much-enduring, quell thy rage; 
 Seek thou releasement from these miseries; 
 Stale may appear to thee the words I speak; 
 Yet such the penalty that awaits, Prometheus, 
 On a too haughty tongue. But thou, e'en now 
 Nowise art humbled, nor dost yield to ills 
 But to the present wouldest add new woe; 
 Therefore, I charge thee, barkening to my rede,* 
 Kick not against the pricks, since harsh the king 
 Who now holds sway, accountable to none. 
 And now I go, and will forthwith essay 
 If I avail to free thee from these toils. 
 But be thou calm, nor over-rash of speech; 
 Knowest thou not, being exceeding wise, 
 That to the froward tongue cleaves chastisement? 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Much joy I give thee scatheless as thou art. 
 Though in all plots and daring leagued with me. 
 But now let be; forbear thy toil; for Him 
 Persuade thou canst not: Him no suasion moves; 
 Nay, lest the journey breed thee harm, beware. 
 
 OCEANOS 
 
 More cunning art thou others to advise 
 
 Than thine own self. By deed I judge, not word; 
 
 But fixed is my resolve, hold me not back; 
 
 For sure I am, yes sure, that Zeus to me 
 
 Will grant this boon, and loose thee from these pains. 
 
 1 Advice, counsel 
 
78 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 For this I praise thee, nor will cease to praise; 
 For nought of kindly zeal thou lackest ; yet 
 Toil not, for vain, nor helpful unto me. 
 Thy toil will prove, — if toil indeed thou wilt; — 
 But hold thee quiet rather, keep aloof; 
 For I, though in mishap, not therefore wish 
 Widespreading fellowship of woe to see. 
 
 No tiro thou. 
 Nor dost my teaching need. Save thou thyself 
 As best thou knowest how. But be assured 
 I to the dregs my present doom will drain. 
 Until the heart of Zeus relax its ire. 
 
 OCEANOS 
 
 Know'st thou not this, Prometheus, that wise words 
 To a distemper'd mind physicians are? 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Ay, if well-timed they mollify the heart, 
 Nor with rude pressure chafe its swelling ire. 
 
 . OCEANOS 
 
 True: but if forethought be with boldness leagued. 
 What lurking mischief seest thou? Instruct me. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Light-minded folly, and superfluous toil. 
 
 OCEANOS 
 
 Still from this ailment let me ail, since most 
 The wise it profiteth not wise to seem. 
 
 Prometheus 
 But haply mine this error may appear. 
 
^schylus and the Prometheus 79 
 
 OCEANOS 
 
 Certes,' thine argument remands me home. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Good! Lest thy plaint for me work thee ill-will. 
 
 OCEANOS 
 
 With him new-seated on the all-ruling throne? 
 
 Prometheus 
 Of him beware that ne'er his heart be vexed. 
 
 OCEANOS 
 
 Thy plight, Prometheus, is my monitor. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Speed forth! Begone! Cherish thy present mood. 
 
 OCEANOS 
 
 To me right eager hast thou bayed that word, 
 For my four-footed bird, with wings outspread, 
 Fans the clear track of ether; fain, in sooth, 
 In wonted stall to bend the weary knee. 
 
 {Exit OCEANOS.) 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Prometheus, I bewail thy doom of woe; 
 
 From their moist fountains rise, 
 
 Flooding my tender eyes. 
 Tears that my cheek bedew. O, cruel blow! 
 For Zeus by his own laws doth now hold sway. 
 And to the elder gods a haughty spear display. 
 
 1 Certainly. 
 
8o Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Rings the whole country now with echoing groans. 
 
 The grand time-honoured sway, 
 
 Mighty now passed away, 
 Of thee and of thy brethren it bemoans. 
 And all who dwell on Asia's hallowed shore 
 Thy loud-resounding griefs with kindred grief deplore. 
 One only of the gods before thus bent 
 Have I beheld, 'neath adamantine pains, 
 Atlas, the Titan, who with many a groan 
 
 Still on his back sustains, 
 Vast burthen, the revolving firmament. 
 Chiming in cadence ocean- waves resound; 
 Moans the abyss, and Hades' murky gloom 
 Bellows responsive in the depth profound; 
 While fountains of clear-flowing rivers moan 
 
 His piteous doom. 
 
 SECOND EPISODE 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Think not that I through pride or stubbornness 
 
 Keep silence; nay, my brooding heart is gnawed, 
 
 Seeing myself thus marred with contumely; 
 
 And yet what other but myself marked out 
 
 To these new gods their full prerogatives? 
 
 But I refrain; for, naught my tongue would tell 
 
 Save what ye know. But rather list the ills 
 
 Of mortal men, how, being babes before, 
 
 I ^ made them wise and masters of their wits. 
 
 This will I tell, not as in blame of men. 
 
 But showing how from kindness flow'd my gifts. 
 
 For they, at first, though seeing, saw in vain; 
 
 Hearing they heard not, but, like shapes in dreams, 
 
 Through the long time all things at random mixed; 
 
 Of brick-wove houses, sunward-turned, nought knew, 
 
 1 Divine Prometheus in this scene appears almost an allegory; a type of 
 man's own progressive spirit, audaciously at war with the forces of nature that 
 would crush him. 
 
iEschylus and the Prometheus 8i 
 
 Nor joiner's craft, but burrowing they dwelt 
 Like puny ants, in cavern'd depths unsunned. 
 Neither of winter, nor of spring flower-strewn. 
 Nor fruitful summer, had they certain sign. 
 But without judgment everything they wrought, 
 Till I to them the risings of the stars 
 Discovered, and their settings hard to scan. 
 Nay, also Number, art supreme, for them 
 I found, and marshalling of written signs. 
 Handmaid to memory, mother of the Muse. 
 And I in traces first brute creatures yok'd, 
 Subject to harness, with vicarious strength 
 Bearing in mortals' stead their heaviest toils. 
 And 'neath the car rein-loving steeds I brought, 
 Chief ornament of wealth-abounding pomp. 
 And who but I the ocean-roaming wain^ 
 For mariners invented, canvas-winged? 
 Such cunning works for mortals I contrived, 
 Yet, hapless, for myself find no device 
 To free me from this present agony.^ 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Unseemly woe thou bearest. Driven astray 
 Flounders thy judgment, and like sorry leech 
 Falling distempered, spiritless thou art. 
 Nor remedies canst find thyself to cure. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Hearken the rest, and thou wilt marvel more 
 
 What arts and what resources I devised. 
 
 This chief of all; if any one fell sick. 
 
 No help was there, diet or liniment. 
 
 Nor healing draught; but men, for lack of drugs, 
 
 Wasted away, till I to them revealed 
 
 Commixture of assuaging remedies 
 
 1 Conveyance, chariot. 
 
 2 The similarity in wording with Mark xv. 31, is striking. The early 
 Christian preachers often apply the name Prometheus to the Friend of man, 
 crucified for them. 
 
82 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Which may disorders manifold repel. 
 
 Of prophecies the various modes I fixed, 
 
 And among dreams did first discriminate 
 
 The truthful vision. Voices ominous, 
 
 Hard to interpret, I to them made known. 
 
 Such were the boons I gave. And 'neath the earth 
 
 Those other helps to men, concealed which lie. 
 
 Brass, iron, silver, gold, who dares affirm 
 
 That before me he had discovered them? 
 
 No one, I know, but who would idly vaunt. 
 
 The sum of all learn thou in one brief word: 
 
 All arts to mortals from Prometheus came. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Not now for mortals beyond measure care, 
 Thy hapless self neglecting; since, in sooth. 
 Good hope have I that, loosen 'd from these bonds, 
 In might thou 'It prove an equal match for Zeus. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Nor yet nor thus is it ordained that fate 
 These things shall compass; but by myriad pangs 
 And tortures bent, so shall I 'scape these bonds; 
 Art than necessity is weaker far. 
 
 Chorus 
 Who then is helmsman of necessity? 
 
 Prometheus 
 The triform Fates, and ever mindful Furies.^ 
 
 Chorus 
 Is Zeus in might less absolute than these? 
 
 Prometheus 
 E'en he the fore-ordain 'd can not escape. 
 
 1 All such vague conceptions are little more than types of cosmic law, which 
 no being, human or divine, can violate. 
 
^schylus and the Prometheus 83 
 
 Chorus 
 What is ordain*d for Zeus save aye to reign? 
 
 Prometheus 
 No further mayst thou question; urge me not. 
 
 Chorus 
 Deep mystery, methinks, thou keepest veil'd. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Turn to some other theme; not meet it is 
 Now to discourse of this, but close to wrap 
 In strictest silence; for, this secret kept. 
 Unseemly bonds I * scape, and tortures keen. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Never may Zeus, who sole doth reign, 
 
 My will with adverse might oppose; 
 
 Nor I to serve the gods refrain, 
 
 With rites of slaughtered kine, where flows 
 Father Oceanos' exhaustless tide. 
 
 Neither in word may I transgress! 
 Deep in my heart's recess. 
 Steadfast for aye may this resolve abide. 
 
 'Tis sweet to run life's long career 
 
 By hopes attended strong and bold. 
 
 Feeding the heart in blithesome cheer; 
 
 But thee I shudder to behold 
 By myriad tortures rack'd in sore distress. 
 
 For thou, of Zeus unaw'd, hast still. 
 In pride and sheer self-will,^ 
 Mortals, Prometheus, honoured in excess. 
 
 This is indeed Prometheus' fatal error, of which he is reminded on every 
 
 hand. 
 
84 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 THIRD EPISODE 
 {Enter lo.) 
 
 What country? What race? Who is he, 
 
 Whom, rock-bound, I survey, 
 
 Storm-battered? What trespass hath thee 
 
 Thus doomed to destruction? Oh, say, 
 To what region of earth have I wandered, forlorn? 
 Ah me! The dire anguish! Ah me! 
 
 Again the barbed pest doth assail ! 
 
 Thou phantom of Argus, earthbom; 
 
 Avert him, O earth! Ah, I quail. 
 The herdsman beholding with myriad eyes. 
 With crafty look, onward, still onward he hies; 
 Not even in death is he hid 'neath the earth; 
 
 But, e'en from the shades coming back. 
 He hounds me, forlorn one, in anguish of dearth, 
 To roam by the sea- waves' salt track. 
 
 , Strophe 
 
 Still droneth the wax-moulded reed, 
 
 Shrill-piping, a sleep-breathing strain. 
 
 Ah me! The dire anguish! Woe! Woe! 
 
 Ah, whither on earth do these far roamings lead? 
 
 What trespass canst find, son of Kronos, in me, 
 
 That thou yokest me ever to pain? 
 
 Woe! Ah, woe! 
 
 And wherefore with brize-driven fear* torture so 
 
 A wretched one, frenzied in brain? 
 Oh bum me with fire, or o'erwhelm 'neath the soil 
 Or fling me to ravenous beasts of the sea. 
 
 1 This strange myth seems to have been first suggested by the appearance 
 of the horned new moon, hurrying across the cloudy sky like a hunted maid, 
 fleeing the iealous wrath of some Heavenly queen. The ten thousand eves 
 of wakeful Argus set to watch her are plainly tne stars. The final escape of lo 
 to Egypt may have been added to the tale when Greeks first heard of the 
 horned Isis. 
 
 2 Goaded by gadfly. 
 
iEschylus and the Prometheus 85 
 
 Begrudge not, O Lord! to my prayers to give heed. 
 Enough hath outworn me my much-roaming toil. 
 Nor wist I from torment how I may be freed. 
 The voice dost thou hear of the cow-horned maid? 
 
 Prometheus 
 And how not hear the maid of Inachos, 
 Brize-driven, who the heart of Zeus with love 
 Doth warm, and now in courses all too long, 
 Through Hera's hate, is rudely exercised? 
 
 lo 
 Whence know'st thou to speak my sire's name? 
 Oh answer a wretched one's prayer; — 
 Ah me! The dire anguish! Woe! Woe! 
 
 Who art thou, poor wretch, who dost truly proclaim 
 
 My plague, with its frenzying torture? 
 
 What cure for my plague? If such knowledge be thine, 
 
 Forthwith to the sad-roaming maiden declare. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Plainly I'll tell thee all thou wouldst learn. 
 
 lo 
 What time to me, poor outcast, yet must run? 
 
 Prometheus 
 Nothing I grudge, yet shrink to vex thy heart. 
 
 lo 
 Care not for me more than to me is sweet. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Thine eager wish constrains my tongue; give ear. 
 
 Chorus 
 Not yet; to me my dole of pleasure deal; 
 Enquire we first into this maiden's plague. 
 Herself relating her sore-wasting fortunes. 
 Her residue of toil then teach us thou. 
 
86 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 lo 
 I know not how I can deny your wish, 
 So in clear word all ye desire to know 
 That shall ye hear; — Yet I am shamed to tell 
 Wherefore, on me, forlorn one, burst the storm 
 Heaven-sent, and whence this form's disfigurement. 
 For evermore would nightly visions haunt 
 My virgin chambers, gently urging me 
 With soothing words; — **0 damsel, highly blest. 
 Why longer live in maidenhood, when thee 
 Wait loftiest nuptials? For, by passion's dart 
 Inflamed is Zeus for thee, and fain would share 
 The yoke of Cypris.^ Spurn not thou, O child. 
 The couch of Zeus, but to the grassy mead 
 Of Lerna hie thee, to thy father's herds 
 And cattle-stalls, that so the eye of Zeus 
 From longing may find respite." By such dreams 
 From night to night still was I visited. 
 Unhappy one; till, taking heart at length. 
 My night-bom visions to my sire I told. 
 Then he to Pytho^ many a herald sent 
 And to Dodona f seeking to be taught 
 How best, by deed or word, to please the gods. 
 But they returned, announcing oracles 
 Of riddling import, vague and hard to spell. 
 At length to Inachos* came clear response. 
 By voice oracular commanding him 
 From home and father-land to thrust me forth. 
 At large to range, as consecrate to heaven. 
 Far as earth's utmost bounds. Should he refuse, 
 From Zeus would come the fiery thunderbolt. 
 And his whole race extirpate utterly. 
 Then yielding to Apollo's oracles. 
 He drave me forth, and barred me from his home, 
 Against his will and mine; but, forcefully, 
 
 1 i. e. Aphrodite, goddess of love. 
 
 2 Delphi, seat of the oracle. 
 
 3 Another very ancient place of prophecy. 
 <Fatberof lo. 
 
iEschylus and the Prometheus 87 
 
 The curb of Zeus constrained him this to do. 
 Forthwith my shape and mind distorted were. 
 
 Then the earth-born herdsman, 
 Hot-tempered Argus, ever dogged my steps, 
 Gazing upon me with his myriad eyes. 
 But him a sudden and unlooked-for fate 
 Did reave ^ of Hfe; but I, brize-tortured, still 
 Before the scourge divine am driven on 
 From land to land. The past thou hearest; now 
 If thou canst tell my future toils, say on. 
 Nor, pity-moved, soothe me with lying tales. 
 For garbled words, I hold, are basest ills. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Alas! Alas! Let be! 
 Never, oh never, had I thought 
 That words with such strange meaning fraught 
 
 Would reach mine ear. 
 Nor that such horrors, woes, such cruel ill. 
 So hard to gaze on, and so hard to bear. 
 With double-pointed goad, my soul would chill. 
 
 Fate! Fate! Ah me! ah me! 
 I shudder lo's woeful plight to see. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 The rest now hearken. 
 What trials this young maid hath yet to bear 
 From Hera. Thou too, child of Inachos, 
 Cast in thy heart my words, that thou in full 
 Mayst of thy weary travel learn the goal. 
 First, turning hence towards the rising sun. 
 Traverse uncultured wastes; so shalt thou reach 
 The Scythian nomads, who, *neath wattled ^ roofs. 
 Uplifted dwell on waggons amply-wheeled. 
 And are accoutred with far-darting bows. 
 Approach not these, but skirting with thy foot 
 The sounding breakers, hie thee from their land. 
 
 1 Bereave, despoil, rob. 
 
 2 flatted or woveq. 
 
88 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Hybristes' ^ river then — not falsely named — 
 Thou 'It reach; the ford, for hard it is to cross, 
 Attempt not until Caucasus thou gain. 
 Highest of mountains, from whose very brow 
 The river spouteth forth its might; forthwith 
 Its crest surmounting, neighbor to the stars. 
 Southward direct thy course until thou reach 
 The host of man-abhorring Amazons. 
 These will conduct thee, and right willingly; 
 Then the Kimmerian isthmus ^ thou shalt gain 
 Hard by the narrow portals of the lake. 
 Which it behooveth thee with dauntless heart 
 To leave, and traverse the Maeotic strait; 
 And evermore among mankind shall live 
 The mighty record of thy passage there. 
 For men from thee shall call it Bosporos. 
 Quitting the plain of Europe thou shalt come 
 To Asia's continent. — How think ye? say. 
 Seems not the monarch of the gods to be 
 Ruthless alike in all? For he, a god. 
 Yearning to meet in love a mortal maid. 
 Upon her did impose these wanderings. 
 A bitter wooer hast thou found, O maid. 
 For wedlock bond, — for what thine ears have heard 
 Account not e'en the prelude to thy toils. 
 
 lo 
 
 What boots it then to live? Why not with speed 
 Hurl myself headlong from this rugged cliff. 
 That, dashed upon the ground, I from my woes 
 Respite may find? Better to die at once 
 Than all my days to linger out in pain. 
 
 Prometheus 
 111 wouldst thou bear, methinks, my agonies, 
 To whom it is not foreordained to die. 
 For death would be releasement from my woes. 
 Before that Zeus from sovereignty be hurled. 
 
 1 "Outrage." Nearly all the geography here is imaginary. 
 2 The Crimea, 
 
-^schylus and the Prometheus 89 
 
 lo 
 How? Shall Zeus ever be from empire hurled? 
 
 Prometheus 
 Thou wouldest joy, methinks, such hap to see. 
 
 lo 
 
 How should I not, who suffer ill from Zeus? 
 
 Prometheus 
 That thus it shall be it is thine to learn. 
 
 lo 
 
 By whom despoiled of his imperial sway? 
 
 Prometheus 
 Spoiled by himself, and his own senseless pians. 
 
 Id 
 
 But how? Declare, if telling bring no harm. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Wedlock contracting he shall one day rue. 
 
 lo 
 
 Divine or human? If permitted, speak. 
 
 Prometheus 
 What matters it? This may not be disclosed. 
 
 lo 
 Shall then his consort drive him from the throne? 
 
 Prometheus 
 Ay, a son bearing stronger than his sire. 
 
90 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 lo 
 Is there for him no refuge from this doom? 
 
 Prometheus 
 No, none; unless I be from bonds released. 
 
 lo 
 
 Who shall release thee, 'gainst the will of Zeus? 
 
 Prometheus 
 One of thy progeny, 'tis so ordained. 
 
 Id 
 
 How so? shall child of mine free thee from bale? 
 
 Prometheus 
 Count ten descendants, and after them a third. 
 
 lo 
 
 Not easy is it this oracle to spell. 
 
 Prometheus 
 So neither seek thy proper grief to learn. 
 
 lo 
 Nay, hold not forth a boon and straight withdraw it. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Since ye are eager, I will thwart you not. 
 Nor will withhold what ye desire to know. 
 First, lo, thy vex'd course to thee I'll tell. 
 Which in thy mind's recording tablets grave. 
 When thou hast crossed the flood, limit betwixt 
 Two continents, fronting the burning East 
 
-^schylus and the Prometheus 91 
 
 Trod by the sun, then onward hold thy course. 
 Fierce northern blasts thou wilt encounter first; 
 Shun thou their downward rush, lest, unaware. 
 In wintry tempest thou be rudely caught. 
 The roaring sea-wave skirt thou then until 
 Kisthene's Gorgoneian plains thou reach, 
 Where dwell the Phorkides, maids grey with eld. 
 Three, swan-shaped, of one common eye possessed, 
 One common tooth, whom neither with his beams 
 The sun beholdeth, nor the nightly moon. 
 
 A far border-land 
 Thou next shalt reach, where dwells a swarthy race. 
 Near the sun's fonts, whence is the ^thiop ^ river. 
 Along its banks proceed till thou attain 
 The mighty rapids, where from Bybline heights 
 .Pure draughts of sacred water Neilos sends. 
 He to the land three-cornered thee shall guide. 
 Encircled by the Nile.^ 
 
 On the land's verge a town, Canobos, stands, 
 At Neilos' very mouth and sand-bar, — there, 
 Zeus shall restore thy reason, — stroking thee 
 With touch alone of unalarming hand; 
 Then thou shalt dark Epaphos bear, whose name 
 Records his sacred gendering, who shall reap 
 All regions watered by broad-flowing Nile. 
 Fifth in descent from him a female race, 
 Fifty in number, shall return to Argos, 
 Not willingly, but wedlock to avoid 
 Of cousins; these, with passion- winged hearts, 
 Falcons that follow close on doves, shall come 
 Chasing unlawful wedlock. 
 Woman's fell prowess shall o'er men prevail; 
 For every bride her spouse shall reave of life, 
 The two-edged weapon bathing in his neck. — 
 May Kypris visit in such guise my foes! — 
 But of the maids shall one, by love beguiled, 
 
 iThis is the name for the upper courses of the Nile, whose sources, curi- 
 ously enough, ^Eschylus believes to be in Asia. 
 2 The Delta. 
 
92 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Her partner fail to slay; ' — her will's keen edge 
 
 Blunted, she will of evils twain prefer 
 
 Repute of weakness to bloodguiltiness. 
 
 She shall a kingly race in Argos bear; 
 
 This to set forth at large needs lengthy speech; 
 
 But from this line shall dauntless hero spring,^ 
 
 Bow-famous, who shall free me from these toils. 
 
 Such oracle my mother, born of eld, 
 
 Themis, hoar Titaness, to me rehearsed. 
 
 But how and where, to tell, needs lengthy speech. 
 
 Nor would the knowledge aught advantage thee. 
 
 lo 
 
 Ah me! ah woe is me! 
 Brain-smiting madness once again 
 Inflames me, and convulsive pain. 
 The gadfly's barb, not wrought with fire. 
 
 Stings me; against my breast 
 Kicks my pent heart with fear oppressed. 
 Mine eyeballs roll in dizzy gyre; 
 Out of my course by frenzy's blast 
 I'm borne. My tongue brooks not the rein, 
 And turbid words, at random cast, 
 'Gainst waves of hateful madness beat in vain. 
 
 Chorus. Strophe I 
 
 Sage was the man, ay, sage in sooth. 
 Who in his thought first weighed this truth. 
 And then with pithy phrase expressed — 
 
 That wedlock in one's own degree is best. 
 
 That not where wealth saps manly worth, 
 Nor where pride boasts its lofty birth. 
 
 Should son of toil repair in marriage quest. 
 
 » Hypermestra, whom Horace calls "magnificently untrue" to the promise 
 given her father, to kill her cousin-busband. 
 2 Heracles. 
 
iEschylus and the Prometheus 93 
 
 Antistrophe I 
 
 Never, oh never, Fates, may ye. 
 
 Dread powers primeval, gaze on me 
 
 Sharing his couch who reigns above. 
 Or joined with son of heaven in ties of love ! 
 
 For filled with dread am I to see 
 
 lo's love- shunning virgin-state. 
 Consumed in wanderings dire through Hera's hate. 
 
 EXODUS 
 Prometheus 
 
 Yea verily shall Zeus, though stubborn-souled 
 Be humbled yet; such marriage he prepares, 
 Which from his throne of power to nothingness 
 Shall hurl him down; so shall be all fulfilled 
 His father Kronos' curse, which erst he spake 
 What time he fell from his primeval throne. 
 From such disasters none of all the gods 
 To Zeus escape can show save I alone; 
 I know it and the way. Let him then sit 
 Fearless, confiding in supernal thunder. 
 The bolt, fire-breathing, wielding in his hands; 
 For these shall not avail, but fall he shall, 
 A fall disgraceful, not to be endured. 
 Such wrestler now, himself against himself. 
 He arnis for battle; — portent hard to quell; 
 Who flame shall find surpassing lightning's glare, 
 And crash more mighty than the thunder- roll; 
 Against this evil stumbling, Zeus shall learn 
 How wide apart are sway and servitude. 
 
 Chorus 
 Such talk 'gainst Zeus thy wish, I trow, inspires. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Both what shall be, I speak, and what I wish. 
 
94 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Chorus 
 And must we look for one o'er Zeus to reign? 
 
 Prometheus 
 Yea, pangs than these more crushing shall he bear. 
 
 Chorus 
 How canst thou fail to fear, hurling such words? 
 
 Prometheus 
 What should I fear, who am not doomed to die? 
 
 Chorus 
 To keener struggle may he sentence thee. 
 
 Prometheus 
 So let him then! All is by me foreseen. 
 
 Chorus 
 The wise are they who worship Nemesis. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Revere, adore, cringe aye to him who reigns, 
 For me, at less than nought I value Zeus. 
 For this brief hour let him both do and reign. 
 E'en as he will; — not long he'll rule the gods. 
 
 But yonder I behold the scout of Zeus, 
 Of this new potentate the servitor; — 
 Doubtless some news to herald he has come. 
 
 (Enter Hermes.) 
 
 Hermes 
 
 To thee, professing wisdom, steeped in gall. 
 Who 'gainst the gods hast sinned, on short-liveS men 
 Prerogatives bestowing, thief of fire, 
 To thee I speak; the father bids thee tell 
 
^schylus and the Prometheus 95 
 
 What nuptials these thou vauntest of, by which 
 Himself shall fall in sway, and nought in riddles. 
 But point by point explain; nor cause to me, 
 Prometheus, double journeys; for thou seest. 
 Not by such deaUng is Zeus mollified. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Full of high spirit and augustly mouthed 
 This speech, as fits an underling of gods. 
 Younglings, and young of sway, ye think to dwell 
 Henceforth in griefless citadels. From these 
 Have I not known two potentates ^ cast down? 
 Ay, and a third, now reigning, I shall see 
 In basest and most sudden overthrow. 
 Seem I to thee before these upstart gods 
 To quail or cringe? Far from it, nay, no whit. 
 But get thee back* with speed the way thou camest, 
 For of thy quest thou 'It nothing learn from me. 
 
 Hermes 
 E'en by such haughty wilfulness before 
 Didst thou to these dire moorings waft thyself. 
 
 Prometheus 
 This my ill-fortune, be thou well assured, 
 I would not barter with thy servitude. 
 This rock to lackey better 'tis in sooth 
 Than trusty scout be bom to father Zeus. 
 Thus, as is fitting, scorn replies to scorn. 
 
 Hermes 
 Thou seemst to revel in thy present state. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Revel? Oh might I in such revel see 
 My foes. And thee among them do I count. 
 
 Hermes 
 Me too thou boldest guilty of thy ills? 
 1 Ouranos and Kronos, grandfather and father of Zeus. 
 
96 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 Shortly to speak, all gods I hate, whoe'er. 
 By me bestead, maltreat me wrongfully. 
 
 Hermes 
 By what I hear, not slight thy madness is. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Mad let me be, if to hate foes be madness. 
 
 Hermes 
 Unbearable wert thou, if prosperous. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Alas! 
 
 Hermes 
 That word, I trow, Zeus knoweth not. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Time, as it waxeth old, can all things teach. 
 
 Hermes 
 But thou not yet hast sober wisdom learned. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Else. I with thee, a menial, had not talked. 
 
 Hermes 
 It seems thou 'It answer nought the sire demands. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Grace since I owe him, grace must I repay. 
 
 Hermes 
 Thou floutest me as though a child I were. 
 
-Sschylus and the Prometheus 97 
 
 Prometheus 
 Art not a child, ay, simpler than a child, 
 If thou expect est aught to learn from me? 
 No torture is there, no device whereby 
 Zeus shall persuade me to reveal these things. 
 Before these woe-inflicting bonds be loosed. 
 Let then his blazing lightnings hurtle down; 
 With white-winged snow and earth-born thunderings 
 Let him in ruin whelm and mingle all; 
 For none of these shall bend my will to tell 
 By whom from empery^ he needs must fall. 
 
 Hermes 
 Mark now^ if helpful this may seem to thee. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Of old my course was looked to and resolved. 
 
 Hermes 
 Take heart, O foolish one, take heart at length 
 To deal discreetly with these present ills. 
 
 Prometheus 
 Idly, as though a wave thou shouldst exhort. 
 Thou troublest me. Harbour no more the thought 
 That I, in terror at the will of Zeus, 
 Effeminate of mind shall e*er become, 
 And supplicate whom hugely I abhor. 
 With woman-aping palms to heaven upturned. 
 To loose me from these fetters. Not a whit. 
 
 Hermes 
 Much may I speak, it seems, and speak in vain; 
 For nothing moved or softened is thy heart 
 By prayers; but thou, like newly-yok^d colt, 
 Champing the bit, dost fight against the rein 
 Fiercely; yet futile the device wherein 
 
 1 Empire. 
 
98 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Madly thou trustest; for mere stubbornness 
 
 Avails the foolish-hearted less than nought. 
 
 But mark, if unpersuaded by my words, 
 
 What storm and triple-crested surge of ills 
 
 Shall o*er thee burst escapeless. Yea: for first 
 
 With thunder and with lightning flame the Sire 
 
 This rugged crag shall rend, and hide thy frame 
 
 Deep in the rock's embraces rudely clasped. 
 
 But when time's lengthened course thou hast fulfilled, 
 
 Back shalt thou come to daylight. Then, in sooth, 
 
 Zeus' wingdd hound, the eagle wet with gore. 
 
 Shall of thy flesh a huge flap rudely tear; 
 
 Coming, unbidden guest, the livelong day 
 
 He on thy black-gnawed liver still shall feast. 
 
 But of such pangs look for no term, until 
 
 Some god, successor of thy toils, appear. 
 
 Willing to Hades' rayless gloom to wend. 
 
 And to the murky depths of Tartaros.^ 
 
 Wherefore take counsel; — since not feigned, in sooth, 
 
 Is this bold threat, but all too truly spoken. 
 
 Trust me, the mouth of Zeus knows not to lie, 
 
 But every word completeth. So do thou 
 
 Look round, take heed, nor deem that stubbornness 
 
 Shall ever better than good counsel prove. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Timely to us the word of Hermes seems, 
 For he exhorts thee, dropping thy self-will, 
 To search for prudent counsel. Be advised 1 
 For to the wise it bringeth shame to err. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 To me who knew them, hath he told 
 His messages, with utterance shrill. 
 
 But nowise I unseemly hold 
 
 That foe from foe should suffer ill. 
 
 1 Hades is the abode of the dead; Tartaros, still deeper, is the prison- 
 house of the old gods. 
 
iEschylus and the Prometheus 99 
 
 So Against me now be hurled amain 
 
 Curled lightning's two-edged! 
 By thunder and spasmodic whirl 
 
 Of savage gales be upper air 
 Madly convulsed ! • Let hurricane 
 Earth from its deep foundations rend, 
 E'en from its roots. Let ocean's wave, 
 Surging aloft, tumultuous rave. 
 And foaming, with the courses blend 
 Of heavenly stars. Ay, let him hurl 
 This body to the murky gloom 
 Of Tartaros, in stubborn whirl 
 Of Fortune caught ! Do what he will 
 My death he may not doom. 
 
 Hermes 
 From foois brain-stricken may one hear 
 Such counsels and such words. But say, — 
 What sign of madness lacketh here? 
 What respite knows his frenzied ire? 
 Nathless do ye, who thus console 
 With his spre pangs, far hence retire; 
 Go quickly, lest harsh thunder's bray 
 With terror smite your soul. 
 
 Chorus 
 In other style exhort and preach, ' 
 If to persuade me thou art fain; 
 For all unbearable this speech 
 Which from thy lips hath burst amain. 
 How canst thou bid me consummate 
 A dastard's part? With him the worst 
 I'll brave, for I have learned to hate 
 Traitors, than whom no pest is more accursed. 
 
 Hermes 
 Then my forewarnings mark, nor dare 
 When tangled in fell ruin's snare 
 Fortune to blame, nor ever say 
 
icx) Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 That Zeus hath plunged you, unaware, 
 In doleful plight; nay, truly nay. 
 But ye yourselves; for not untaught. 
 Not stealthily, by sudden blow, 
 Ye through sheer folly will be caught 
 In net of boundless woe. 
 
 Prometheus 
 
 And lo in act, in word no more, 
 
 Earth totters; — from below 
 Loud bellows the discordant roar 
 Of thunder; lightning's wreathed glow 
 Blazes around me; dust elate 
 Rides on the whirlwind; forward leap 
 Of every wind rude blasts that sweep 
 In strife of rancour-breathing hate. 
 The sky is mingled with the deep. 
 Such turmoil to arouse my fear 
 Comes visibly from Zeus. Oh thou. 
 Mother revered! Oh upper air. 
 Who sheddest from thy circling sphere 
 The common light ! Behold ye now 
 What pangs unjust I bear! 
 
 (Prometheus sinks out of sight.) 
 This charge of injustice must have been retracted later 
 in the trilogy. Yet it is no accident, that precisely this 
 play, delineating the unrepentant and defiant rebel, was 
 recopied and preserved from age to age. Shelley, him- 
 self in revolt against the political maxims and theological 
 beliefs of his age and land, actually rewrote this drama, 
 to make Prometheus successful in dethroning Zeus. But 
 even gentle Longfellow and optimistic Lowell have exalted 
 the Firegiver far beyond any classical poet's judgment of 
 him. Any such modern treatment must be carefully dis- 
 tinguished from the ancient view, -^schylus does 
 
-^schylus and the Prometheus loi 
 
 indeed credit the Titan with higher motives than the mere 
 trickery ascribed to him by Hesiod. But he is as unques- 
 tionably in the wrong, and foredoomed to failure, as is 
 Milton's Lucifer. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 The version of the Prometheus here used in abridged form is 
 that of Miss Anna Swanwick in the Bohn Classical Library. 
 Other recent translators of all the seven extant plays are Plumptre 
 and Campbell. The finest rendering from any ancient drama is 
 Morshead's "House of Atreus," a somewhat free paraphrase of 
 the Oresteian trilogy. Mrs. Browning's spirited version of the 
 "Prometheus" is well known. Mr. Browning's "Agamem- 
 non" is hard reading. The present writer has a complete trans- 
 lation, and very full discussion of the "Prometheus" in the Atlantic 
 Monthly for July and August, 1888. "The Persians," the only 
 surviving Greek tragedy on a contemporary event, was similarly 
 treated in the Atlantic for September, 1892. In the collection of 
 essays called "Hellenica," edited by Evelyn Abbot, is a fine study 
 of w^schylus' spirit and style by E. Myers. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 SOPHOCLES AND THE ANTIGONE 
 
 Human Law vs. Divine ordinance. 
 
 While ^schylus had fought against the Persians 
 early in the fifth century B.C., Sophocles was the friend 
 and associate of Pericles, at the epoch of Athens' greatest 
 power and splendor, in the next generation. The gods 
 take relatively little part in his plays. Neither did he link 
 three plots or generations together, like his senior. To 
 him the individual seemed quite capable of working out 
 his own doom. More even than either of his famous 
 OEdipus-dramas, the fate of Antigone has always appealed 
 to tenderest human sympathy. In the contest between 
 human edict and divine law the heroine perishes fearlessly 
 through the performance of a holy duty. 
 
 As the music of the choral interludes has perished, and 
 the songs themselves have little essential connection with 
 the plot, they are here omitted, as a rule. Next to An- 
 tigone the student's attention should be fixed on the char- 
 acter of King Creon, — narrow, jealous, unfit to rule, yet 
 sincere, often wise in word though misguided in action. 
 Ismene is not cowardly, but a typical woman. 
 
 The scene is before the royal palace of Thebes. The 
 royal brothers Eteocles and Polynices have perished a few 
 hours before by each other's hands. The invader, Poly- 
 nices, had really the better title to the crown. Antigone 
 and Ismene, who appear in the first scenes, are his sisters, 
 and the new king Creon is their maternal uncle. 
 
 102 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 103 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 Antigone and Ismene appear from the palace. 
 
 Antigone 
 
 sister-life, Ismene 's, twin with mine, 
 Knowest thou of the burden of our race 
 Aught that from us yet Uving Zeus holds back? 
 And even now what edict hath the prince 
 Uttered, men say, to all this Theban folk? 
 
 Thou knowest it, and hast heard? or 'scapes thy sense. 
 Aimed at thy friends, the mischief of thy foes? 
 
 Ismene 
 To me of friends, Antigone, no word 
 Hath come, or sweet or bitter, since that we 
 Two sisters of two brothers were bereaved, 
 Both on a day slain by a two-fold blow : 
 And, now that vanquished is the Argive host 
 Ev'n with the night fled hence, I know no more. 
 If that I fare the better or the worse. 
 
 y Antigone 
 
 1 knew full well, and therefore from the gates 
 O' the court I led thee hither, alone to hear. 
 
 Ismene 
 There's trouble in thy looks; thy tidings tell. 
 
 Antigone 
 Yea, hath not Creon, of our two brothers slain. 
 Honoured with burial one, disdained the other? 
 For Eteocles, they say, he in the earth 
 With all fair rites and ceremony hath laid, 
 Nor lacks he honour in the world below; 
 But the poor dust of Polynices dead 
 Through Thebes, 'tis said, the edict hath gone forth 
 That none may bury, none make moan for him. 
 But leave unwept, untombed, a dainty prize 
 
I04 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 For ravening birds that gloat upon their prey. 
 So hath our good lord Creon to thee and me 
 Published, men say, his pleasure — ay, to me — 
 And hither comes, to all who know it not 
 Its purport to make plain, nor deems the thing 
 Of slight account, but whoso does the deed, 
 A pubhc death by stoning is his doom. 
 Thou hast it now; and quickly shall be proved 
 If thou art noble, or base from noble strain. 
 
 ISMENE 
 
 O rash of heart, if this indeed be so. 
 What help in me, to loosen or to bind? 
 
 Antigone 
 Consider, toil and pain if thou wilt share. 
 
 ISMENE 
 
 On what adventure bound.? What wouldst thou do? 
 
 Antigone 
 To lift his body, wilt thou join with me? 
 
 ISMENE 
 
 Wouldst thou indeed rebel, and bury him? 
 
 Antigone 
 
 My brother will I bury, and thine no less, 
 Whether thou wilt or no: no traitress I. 
 
 ISMENE 
 
 O all too bold — when Creon hath forbid? 
 
 Antigone 
 My rights to hinder is no right of his. 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 105 
 
 ISMENE 
 
 Ah, sister, yet think how our father^ died, 
 
 Wrapt in what cloud of hate and ignominy 
 
 By his own sins, self-proved, and both his eyes 
 
 With suicidal hand himself he stabbed: 
 
 Then too his mother-wife, two names in one. 
 
 Forbid with twisted noose her woeful life: 
 
 Last, our two brothers in one fatal day 
 
 Drew sword, O miserable, and each to each 
 
 Dealt mutual slaughter with unnatural hands: 
 
 And now shall we twain, who alone are left, ' 
 
 Fall like the rest, and worse — in spite of law. 
 
 And scorning kings, their edicts and their power? 
 
 rather let us think, 'tis not for us. 
 Who are but women, to contend with men: 
 And the king's word is mighty, and to this, 
 
 And harsher words than this, we needs must bow. 
 Therefore will I, imploring of the dead 
 Forgiveness, that I yield but as I must. 
 Obey the king's commandment: for with things 
 Beyond our reach 'twere foolishness to meddle. 
 
 Antigone 
 
 I'll neither urge thee, nor, if now thou'dst help 
 
 My doing, should I thank thee for thine aid. 
 
 Do thou after thy kind: thy choice is made.: 
 
 I'll bury him; doing this, so let me die. 
 
 So with my loved one, loved I shall abide. 
 
 My crime a deed most holy : for the dead 
 
 Longer have I to please than these on earth. 
 
 There shall I dwell forever: be it thine 
 
 To have scorned what gods have hallowed, if thou wilt. 
 
 Ismene 
 
 Nay, nothing do I scorn; but how to break 
 My country's law — I am witless of the way. 
 
 1 CEdipus, who unknowing had slain bis own father and married his mother. 
 
io6 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Antigone 
 Be this thy better part: I go to heap 
 The earth upon my brother, whom I love. 
 
 ISMENE 
 
 Alas, unhappy, how I fear for thee! 
 
 Antigone 
 Fear not for me: guide thine own fate aright. 
 
 Ismene 
 Yet breathe this purpose to no ear but mine: 
 Keep thou thy counsel well — and so will I. 
 
 Antigone 
 Oh speak: for much more hatred thou wilt get 
 Concealing, than proclaiming it to all. 
 
 Ismene 
 Not to attempt the impossible is best. 
 
 Antigone 
 Hated by me, and hated by the dead — 
 To him a hateful presence evermore — 
 Thou shouldst be, and thou shalt be, speaking thus. 
 , But leave me, and the folly that is mine. 
 This worst to suffer — not the worst — since still 
 A worse remains, no noble death to die. 
 
 Ismene 
 Go if thou wilt, but going know thyself 
 Senseless, yet to thy friends a friend indeed. 
 
 [Exeunt.] 
 
 {Enter chorus oj aged royal counsellors, singing.) 
 
 Chorus 
 Lo, the sun upspringing! Fairest light we hail thee 
 Of all dawns that on Thebes the seven-gated 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 107 
 
 Ever broke! Eye of golden day! 
 Over Dirce's fount appearing, 
 Hence the Argive host white-shielded, 
 That in complete arms came hither. 
 Headlong homeward thou didst urge 
 Faster still with shaken rein. 
 
 But now of Victory be glad: 
 
 She meets our gladness with an answering smile, 
 
 And Thebes, the many-charioted. 
 
 Hears far resound her praises : 
 
 Now then with war have done, and strife forget! 
 
 All temples of the gods 
 
 Fill we with song and night-long dance; 
 
 And Theban Bacchus, this our mirth 
 
 Lead thou, and shake the earth! 
 
 {Speaks) 
 
 But lo the ruler of this Theban land, 
 Son of Menoeceus, Creon comes. 
 Obedient to whose summons we are here. 
 
 FIRST EPISODE 
 
 Creon {Appearing from the palace) 
 
 Sirs, it hath pleased the gods to right again 
 Our Theban fortunes, by sore tempest tossed; 
 And by my messenger I summoned hither 
 You out of all the state; first, as I know you 
 To the might of the throne of Laius^ loyal ever : 
 Also, when CEdipus upheld the state. 
 And when he perished, to their children still 
 Ye with a constant mind were faithful found: 
 Now they are gone, both on one fatal field 
 An equal guilt atoned with equal doom. 
 Slayers of each other, by each other slain: 
 
 1 CEdipus' father. 
 
io8 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 And I am left, the nearest to their blood, 
 
 To wield alone the sceptre and the realm. 
 
 There is no way to know of any man 
 
 The spirit and the wisdom and the will. 
 
 Till he stands proved, ruler and lawgiver. 
 
 For who, with a whole city to direct. 
 
 Yet cleaves not to those counsels that are best. 
 
 But locks his lips in silence, being afraid, 
 
 I hold and hold him ever of men most base : 
 
 And whoso greater than his country's cause 
 
 Esteems a friend, I count him nothing worth. 
 
 For, Zeus who seeth all be witness now. 
 
 Not for the safety's sake would I keep silence. 
 
 And see the ruin on my country fall. 
 
 Nor would I deem an enemy to the state 
 
 Friend to myself ; remembering still that she. 
 
 She only brings us safe ; her deck we pace, 
 
 Unfoundered 'mid the storm, our friends and we. 
 
 So for the good of Thebes her laws I'll frame: 
 
 And such the proclamation I set forth. 
 
 Touching the sons of CEdipus, even now — 
 
 Eteocles, who fighting for this land 
 
 In battle has fallen, more valiant none than he. 
 
 To bury, and no funeral rite omit. 
 
 To brave men paid — their solace in the grave: 
 
 Not so his brother Polynices; he. 
 
 From exile back returning, utterly 
 
 With fire his country and his father's gods 
 
 Would fain have burnt, fain would with kinsmen's blood 
 
 Have slaked his thirst, or dragged us captive hence : 
 
 Therefore to all this city it is proclaimed 
 
 That none may bury, none make moan for him. 
 
 But leave him lying all ghastly where he fell. 
 
 Till fowls o' the air and dogs have picked his bones. 
 
 So I am purposed; not at least by me 
 
 Shall traitors be preferred to honest men: 
 
 But, whoso loves this city, him indeed 
 
 I shall not cease to honor, alive or dead. 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 109 
 
 Chorus 
 Creon, son of Menoeceus, 'tis thy pleasure, 
 The friend and foe of Thebes so to requite: 
 And, whatso pleases thee, that same is law. 
 Both for our Theban dead and us who hve/ 
 
 Creon 
 Look to it, then, my bidding is performed. 
 
 Chorus 
 Upon some younger man impose this burden. 
 
 Creon 
 To watch the body, sentinels are set. 
 
 Chorus 
 What service more then wouldst thou lay on us? 
 
 Creon 
 That ye resist whoever disobeys. 
 
 Chorus 
 Who is so senseless that desires to die? 
 
 Creon 
 The penalty is death: yet hopes deceive. 
 And men wax foolish oft through greed of gain. 
 
 Sentinel (Entering) 
 That I come hither, king, nimble of foot, 
 And breathless with my haste I'll not profess: 
 For many a doubtful halt upon the way 
 And many a wheel to the right-about, I had. 
 Oft as my prating heart gave counsel, ''Fool, 
 What ails thee going into the lion's mouth?" 
 Then "Blockhead, wilt thou tarry? if Creon learns 
 This from another man, shalt thou not smart?" 
 So doubtfully I fared — much haste, scant speed — 
 
 » He has the power: they will not say, he has the right. 
 
no Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 And, if the way was short, *twas long to me. 
 But to come hither to thee prevailed at last, 
 And, though the speech be nought, yet I will speak. 
 For I have come fast clutching at the hope 
 That nought's to suffer but what fate decrees. 
 
 Creon 
 What is it that hath troubled thus thy mind? 
 
 Sentinel 
 First for myself let me this say: the deed 
 I neither did, nor say who was the doer, 
 And 'twere not just that I should suffer harm. 
 
 Creon 
 Wisely, thyself in covert, at the mark 
 Thou aimest: some shrewd news, methinks, thou'lt tell. 
 
 Sentinel 
 Danger to face, well may a man be cautious. 
 
 Creon 
 ■ Speak then, and go thy way, and make an end. 
 
 Sentinel 
 Then will I speak. Some one even now hath buried 
 The body and is gone; with thirsty dust 
 Sprinkling it o'er, and paying observance due. 
 
 Creon 
 How? By what man was dared a deed so rash? 
 
 Sentinel 
 I cannot tell. No mattock's stroke indeed. 
 Nor spade's upcast was there; hard was the ground, 
 Baked dry, unbroken : track of chariot-wheels 
 Was none, nor any sign who did this thing. 
 But he who kept the watch at earliest dawn 
 Showed to us all — a mystery, hard to clear. 
 Not buried was the dead man, but concealed. 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone ill 
 
 With dust besprinkled, as for fear of sin:^ 
 
 And neither of dog nor any beast of prey, 
 
 That came, that tore the body, found we trace. 
 
 Then bitter words were bandied to and fro. 
 
 Denouncing each the other; and soon to blows 
 
 Our strife had grown — was none would keep the peace — 
 
 For every one was guilty of the deed, 
 
 And none confessed, but all denied they knew. 
 
 So all in vain we questioned: and at last 
 
 One spake, and all who heard him, bowed by fear, 
 
 Bent to the earth their faces, knowing not 
 
 How to gainsay, nor doing what he said 
 
 How we might 'scape mischance. This deed to thee 
 
 He urged that we should show, and hide it not. 
 
 And his advice prevailed, and by the lot 
 
 To luckless me this privilege befell. 
 
 Unwilling and unwelcome is my errand, 
 
 A bearer of ill news, whom no man loves. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 king, my thought hath counselled me long since. 
 Haply this deed is ordered by the gods.' 
 
 Creon 
 Cease, ere my wrath is kindled at thy speech, 
 Lest thou be found an old man and a fool. 
 Intolerably thou pratest of the gods. 
 That they to yonder dead man have respect. 
 Yea, for what service with exceeding honour 
 Sought they his burial, who came here to burn 
 Their pillared shrines and temple-offerings. 
 And of their land and of their laws make havoc? 
 Or seest thou that the gods allow the wicked? 
 Not so: but some impatient of my will 
 Among my people made a murmuring. 
 Shaking their heads in secret, to the yoke 
 
 1 Three handfuls of dust constituted technical burial, and any passer-by 
 who refused so much might fear the curse- of the dead. 
 
 8 This is a timid protest against Creon's decree. 
 
Ill Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 With stubborn necks unbent, and hearts disloyal. 
 
 Full certainly I know that they with bribes 
 
 Have on these men prevailed to do this deed. 
 
 Of all the evils current in this world 
 
 Most mischievous is gold. This hath laid waste 
 
 Fair cities, and unpeopled homes of men; 
 
 But, who took hire to execute this work. 
 
 Wrought to his own undoing at the last. 
 
 Since, if the dread of Zeus I still revere, 
 
 Be well assured — and what I speak I swear — 
 
 Unless the author of this burial 
 
 Ye find, and in my sight produce him here. 
 
 For you mere death shall not suffice, until 
 
 Gibbeted alive this outrage ye disclose, 
 
 That ye may know what gains are worth the winning. 
 
 And henceforth clutch the wiselier, having learnt 
 
 That to seek gain in all things is not well. 
 
 Sentinel 
 May I speak a word, or thus am I dismissed? 
 
 Creon 
 Know*st thou not that ev'n now thy voice offends? 
 
 Sentinel 
 Alas! 
 'Tis pity men should judge, yet judge amiss. 
 
 Creon 
 Talk you of ** judging" glibly as you may — 
 Who did this deed, I'll know, or ye shall own 
 That all your wondrous winnings end in loss. 
 
 Sentinel 
 With all my heart I wish he may be found: 
 But found or no — for that's as fortune will — 
 I shall not show my face to you again. 
 Great cause I have to thank the gracious gods. 
 Saved past all hope and reckoning even now. 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 113 
 
 Omitting a choral song of some length, we pass to the 
 
 SECOND EPISODE 
 
 Chorus 
 
 What strange portentous sight is this, 
 
 I doubt my eyes, beholding? This — 
 
 How shall I gainsay what I know? — 
 
 This maiden is — Antigone! 
 
 Daughter of OEdipus, 
 
 Hapless child of a hapless sire, 
 
 What hast thou done? It cannot be 
 
 That thou hast transgressed the king's command — 
 
 That, taken in folly, thee they bring! 
 
 /^ Sentinel 
 
 This same is she that did the burial: 
 
 We caught her in the act. But where 's the king? 
 
 Chorus 
 Back from the palace in good time he comes. 
 
 Creon 
 What chance is this, to which my steps are timed? 
 
 Sentinel ' 
 
 Nothing, sir king, should men swear not to do ; 
 For second thoughts to first thoughts give the lie. 
 Hither, I made full sure, I scarce should come 
 Back, by your threats berufiled as I was. 
 Yet here, surprised by most unlooked-for joy, 
 That trifles all delights that e'er I knew, 
 I bring you — though my coming breaks my oath — 
 This maiden, whom, busied about the corpse. 
 We captured. This time were no lots to throw: 
 My own good fortune this, and none but mine. 
 Now therefore, king, take her yourself and try her, 
 
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 And question as you will : but I have earned 
 Full clearance and acquittal of this coil. 
 
 Creon 
 How was she seen, and taken in the act? 
 
 Sentinel 
 
 So it fell out. When I had gone from hence, 
 
 With thy loud threats yet sounding in my ears. 
 
 We swept off all the dust that hid the Hmbs, 
 
 And to the light stripped bare the clammy corpse. 
 
 And on the hill's brow sat, and faced the wind, 
 
 Choosing a spot clear of the body's stench. 
 
 Roundly we chid each other to the work; 
 
 '* No' sleeping at your post there," was our word. 
 
 So did we keep the watch, till in mid-heaven 
 
 The sun's bright-burning orb above us hung. 
 
 With fierce noon-heat: and now a sudden blast 
 
 Swept, and a storm of dust, that vexed the sky 
 
 And choked the plain, and all the leaves o' the trees 
 
 O' the plain were marred, and the wide heaven it filled: 
 
 We with shut eyes the heaven-sent plague endured. 
 
 And when, after long time, its force was spent, 
 
 We saw this maiden, and a bitter cry 
 
 She poured, as of a wailing bird that sees 
 
 Her empty nest dismantled of its brood: 
 
 So she, when she espied the body bare. 
 
 Cried out and wept, and many a grievous curse 
 
 Upon their heads invoked by whom 'twas done. 
 
 And thirsty dust she sprinkled with her hands, 
 
 And lifted up an urn, fair-wrought of brass. 
 
 And with thrice-poured libations crowned the dead. 
 
 We saw it and we hasted, and at once. 
 
 All undismayed, our captive, hemmed her round. 
 
 And with the two offences charged her there, 
 
 Both first and last. Nothing did she deny. 
 
 But made me glad and sorry, owning all. 
 
 For to have slipped one's own neck from the noose 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 115 
 
 Is sweet, yet no one likes to get his friends 
 In trouble: but my nature is to make 
 All else of small account, so I am safe.^ 
 
 Creon 
 Speak thou, who bendest on the earth thy gaze. 
 Are these things, which are witnessed, true or false? 
 
 Antigone 
 Not false, but true: that which he saw, he speaks. 
 
 Creon 
 So, sirrah, thou art free; go where thou wilt. 
 Loosed from the burden of this heavy charge. 
 
 {Exit Sentinel) 
 But tell me thou — and let thy speech be brief — 
 The edict hadst thou heard, which this forbade? 
 
 Antigone 
 I could not choose but hear what all men heard. 
 
 Creon 
 And didst thou dare to disobey the law? 
 
 Antigone 
 Nowise from Zeus, methought, this edict came, 
 Nor Justice, that abides among the gods 
 In Hades, who ordained these laws for men. 
 Nor did I deem thine edicts of such force 
 That they, a mortal's bidding, should override 
 Unwritten laws, eternal in the heavens. 
 Not of to-day or yesterday are these. 
 But live from everlasting, and from whence 
 They sprang, none knoweth. I would not, for the breach 
 Of these, through fear of any human pride, 
 To heaven atone. I knew that I must die: 
 
 1 Antigone's return here described is almost more courageous than her 
 original resolve and deed. The frank and light-hearted selfishness of the 
 loquacious guardsman is set in most artistic contrast with her serene self-sacri- 
 nce. 
 
Ii6 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 How else? Without thine edict, that were so. 
 And if before my time, why, this were gain. 
 Compassed about with ills who lives, as I, 
 Death, to such life as his, must needs be gain. 
 So is it to me to undergo this doom 
 No grief at all: but had I left my brother, 
 My mother's child, unburied where he lay, 
 Then had I grieved; but now this grieves me not. 
 Senseless I seem to thee, so doing? Belike 
 A senseless judgment finds me void of sense. 
 
 Chorus 
 How in the child the sternness of the sire 
 Shows stem, before the storm untaught to bend ! 
 
 Creon 
 Yet know full well that such o'er-stubborn wills 
 Are broken most of all, as sturdiest steel. 
 Of an untempered hardness, fresh from forge. 
 Most surely snapped and shivered should ye see. 
 Insult on insult heaped! Was't not enough 
 My promulgated laws to have transgressed, 
 But, having done it, face to face with me 
 She boasts of this and glories in the deed? 
 I surely am the woman, she the man, 
 If she defies my power, and I submit. 
 Be she my sister's child, or sprung from one 
 More near of blood than all my house to me. 
 Not so shall they escape my direst doom — 
 She and her sister: for I count her too 
 Guilty no less of having planned this work. 
 Go, call her hither: in the house I saw her 
 Raving ev'n now, nor mistress of her thoughts. 
 
 Antigone 
 To kill me — wouldst thou more with me than this? 
 
 Creon 
 This is enough: I do desire no more. 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 117 
 
 Antigone 
 Why dost thou then delay? I have no pleasure 
 To hear thee speak — have not and would not have : 
 Nor less distasteful is my speech to thee. 
 Yet how could I have won myself a praise 
 More honourable than this, of burying 
 My brother? This from every voice should win 
 Approval, might but fear men's lips unseal. 
 But kings are fortunate — not least in this. 
 That they may do and speak what things they will. 
 
 Creon 
 All Thebes sees this with other eyes than thine. 
 
 Antigone 
 They see as I, but bate their breath to thee. 
 
 Creon 
 And art thou not ashamed, from them to differ? 
 
 Antigone 
 To reverence a brother is not shameful. 
 
 Creon 
 And was not he who died for Thebes thy brother? 
 
 Antigone 
 One mother bore us, and one sire begat. 
 
 Creon 
 Yet, honouring both, thou dost dishonour him. 
 
 Antigone 
 He in the grave will not subscribe to this. 
 
 Creon 
 How, if no less thou dost revere the guilty? 
 
 Antigone 
 *Twas not his slave that perished, but his brother. 
 
ii8 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Creon 
 The enemy of this land: its champion, he. 
 
 Antigone 
 Yet Death of due observance must not fail. 
 
 Creon 
 Go to the shades, and, if thou*lt love, love there: 
 No woman, while I live, shall master me. 
 
 Chorus 
 See, from the palace comes Ismene — 
 Sisterly drops from her eyes down-shedding: 
 Clouded her brows droop, heavy with sorrow; 
 And the blood-red tinge of a burning blush 
 Covers her beautiful downcast face. 
 
 Creon 
 Thou, who hast crept, a serpent m my home, 
 Draining my blood, unseen; and I knew not 
 Rearing two pests, to overset my throne; 
 Speak — wilt thou too confess that in this work 
 Thou hadst a hand, or swear thou didst not know? 
 
 Ismene 
 I'll say the deed was mine, if she consents: 
 My share of the blame I bear, and do not shrink. 
 
 Antigone 
 Justice forbids thy claim : neither didst thou 
 Agree, nor I admit thee to my counsels. 
 
 Ismene 
 I am not ashamed, in thine extremity. 
 To make myself companion of thy fate. 
 
 Antigone 
 Whose was the deed, know Hades and the dead: 
 I love not friends, who talk of friendliness.* 
 
 » li some of Antigone's speeches seem harsh, it must be remembered that 
 she is striving to save her sister's life. 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 119 
 
 ISMENE 
 
 Sister, disdain me not, but let me pour 
 
 My blood with thine, an offering to the dead. 
 
 Antigone 
 Leave me to die alone, nor claim the work 
 Thou wouldst not help. My death will be enough. 
 
 ISMENE 
 
 What joy have I to live, when thou art gone? 
 
 Antigone 
 Ask Creon that: thou art of kin to him. 
 
 Ismene 
 Why wilt thou grieve me with thy needless taunts? 
 
 Antigone 
 If I mock thee, 'tis with a heavy heart. 
 
 Ismene 
 What may I do to serve thee even now? 
 
 Antigone 
 Look to thyself: I grudge thee not thy safety. 
 
 Creon 
 One of these two, methinks, proves foolish now; 
 The other's folly with her Hfe began. 
 
 Ismene 
 Nay, for, O king, misfortunes of the wise 
 To madness turn the wisdom that they have. 
 
 Creon 
 'Tis so with thee, choosing to share her guilt. 
 
 Ismene 
 How should I live alone, without my sister? 
 
120 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Creon 
 Call her not thine: thou hast no sister now. 
 
 ISMENE 
 
 But wilt thou tear her from thy son's embrace? ^ 
 
 Creon 
 Are there no women in the world but she? 
 
 ISMENE 
 
 Not as their faith was plighted, each to each. 
 
 Creon 
 An evil wife I hke not for my son. 
 
 Antigone 
 Hsemon! beloved! hear not thy father's scorn. 
 
 Creon 
 Thou and thy love to me are wearisome. 
 
 Chorus 
 Wilt thou indeed snatch from thy son his bride? 
 
 Creon 
 *Tis death that will unloose their marriage-bond. 
 
 Chorus 
 It seems thou art resolved that she must die? 
 
 Creon 
 
 Of that we are agreed. Delay no more: 
 Ye, servants, lead them in. For from this time 
 Women they needs must be, and range no more: 
 Since ev'n the bold may play the runaway. 
 When death he sees close-creeping on his life. 
 
 1 This is our first hint of Antigone's engagement to her cousin Haemon. 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 121 
 
 THIRD EPISODE 
 
 {The princesses are led into the palace.) 
 
 Chorus 
 See, thy son Haemon comes hither, of all 
 Thy children the last. Comes he lamenting 
 The doom of the maiden, his bride Antigone— 
 And the frustrated hope of his marriage? 
 
 Creon 
 Soon we shall know, better than seers could say. 
 My son, in anger art thou come to me, 
 Hearing the sentence, not to be reversed, 
 Which on thy destined bride I have pronounced? 
 Or am I still thy friend, do what I may? 
 
 H^MON 
 
 Father, I am in thy hand: with thy wise counsels 
 Thou dost direct me; these I shall obey. 
 
 Creon 
 6e this thy dearest wish and next thy heart, 
 In all things to uphold thy father's will. 
 For to this end men crave to see grow up 
 Obedient children round them in their homes. 
 Never, my son, let for a woman's sake 
 Reason give way to sense, but know full well 
 Cold is the pleasure that he clasps, who woos 
 An evil woman to his board and bed. 
 What wounds so deeply as an evil friend? 
 Count then this maiden as thine enemy. 
 Loathe her, and give her leave, in that dark world 
 To which she goes, to marry with another. 
 He who to his own kith and kin does right, 
 Will in the state deal righteously with all. 
 Of such a man I shall not fear to boast. 
 Well he can rule, and well he would obey. 
 And in the storm of battle at his post 
 
122 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Firm he would stand, a comrade staunch and true. 
 But praise from me that man shall never have, 
 Who either boldly thrusts aside the law 
 Or takes upon him to instruct his rulers, 
 Whom, by the state empowered, he should obey. 
 In Httle and in much, in right and wrong. 
 The worst of evils is to disobey. 
 Cities by this are ruined, homes of men 
 Made desolate by this; this in the battle 
 Breaks into headlong rout the wavering line; 
 The steadfast ranks, the many lives unhurt, 
 Are to obedience due. We must defend 
 The government and order of the state. 
 And not be governed by a wilful girl. 
 We'll yield our place up, if we must, to men; 
 To women that we stooped, shall not be said. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Unless an old man's judgment is at fault, 
 
 These words of thine, we deem, are words of wisdom. 
 
 H.EMON 
 
 Reason, my father, in the mind of man. 
 
 Noblest of all their gifts, the gods implant. 
 
 And how to find thy reasoning at fault, 
 
 I know not, and to learn I should be loth; 
 
 Yet for another it might not be amiss. 
 
 But I for thee am vigilant to mark 
 
 All that men say, or do, or find to blame. 
 
 Thy presence awes the simple citizen 
 
 From speaking words that shall not please thine ear. 
 
 But I hear what they whisper in the dark, 
 
 And how the city for this maid laments, 
 
 That of all women she the least deserving 
 
 Dies for most glorious deeds a death most cruel. 
 
 Who her own brother, fall'n among the slain. 
 
 Left not unburied there, to be devoured 
 
 By ravening dogs or any bird o' the air: — 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 123 
 
 "Should not her deed be blazoned all in gold?" 
 
 Upon the darkness still such whisper grows. 
 
 But I of all possessions that I have 
 
 Prize most, my father, thy prosperity. 
 
 Welldoing and fair fame of sire to son. 
 
 Of son to sire, is noblest ornament. 
 
 Cleave not, I pray thee, to this constant mind. 
 
 That what thou sayest, and nought beside, is truth 
 
 For men who think that only they are wise. 
 
 None eloquent, right-minded none, but they. 
 
 Often, when searched, prove empty. 'Tis no shame, 
 
 Ev'n if a man be wise, that he should yet 
 
 Learn many things, and not hold out too stiffly. 
 
 Cease from thy wrath; be not inexorable; 
 
 For if despite my youth I too may think 
 
 My thought, I'll say that best it is by far 
 
 That men should be all-knowing if they may, 
 
 But if — as oft the scale incHnes not so — 
 
 Why then by good advice 'tis good to learn. 
 
 Chorus 
 What in thy son's speech, king, is seasonable 
 'Tis fit thou shouldst receive: and thou in his: 
 For there is reason in the words of both. 
 
 Creon 
 Shall I, grown grey with age, be taught indeed— 
 And by this boy — to think what he thinks right.? 
 
 HLemon 
 Nothing that is not right : though I am young 
 Consider not my years, but how I act. 
 
 Creon 
 Whose business is't but mine how Thebes is governed? 
 
 H^MON 
 
 A city is none, that to one man belongs. 
 
 
 PORN^^- 
 
124 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Creon 
 Is it not held, the city is the king's? 
 
 H^MON 
 
 Finely thou'dst rule, alone, a land dispeopled! 
 
 Creon 
 O hateful spirit, ruled by a woman's will! 
 
 H^MON 
 
 To no base service wilt thou prove me bound. 
 
 Creon 
 Art thou not pleading all the time for her? 
 
 Hjemon 
 For thee and me, and for the gods below. 
 
 Creon 
 Thou shalt not marry her, this side the grave. 
 
 H^mon 
 If she must die, she shall: but not alone. 
 
 Creon 
 Art grown so bold, thou dost fly out in threats? 
 
 H^MON 
 
 What threats, to argue with a fooHsh purpose? 
 
 Creon 
 Slave — to thy mistress babble, not to me. 
 
 KLemon 
 Would' St thou have all the talking for thine own? 
 
 Creon 
 Is't come to this? But, by Olympus yonder. 
 Know well, thou shalt be sorry for these taunts, 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 115 
 
 Wherewith thou dost upbraid me. Slaves, what ho! 
 
 Bring that abhorrence hither, that she may die. 
 
 Now, in her bridegroom's sight, whilst here he stands. 
 
 HiEMON 
 
 Neither in my sight — imagine no such thing — 
 Shall she be slain; nor shalt thou from this hour 
 Look with thine eyes upon my face again: 
 To friends who love thy madness I commit thee. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 y Chorus 
 
 Suddenly, sire, in anger he is gone. 
 Young minds grow desperate, by grief distempered. 
 
 Creon 
 More than a man let him conceive and do; 
 He shall not save these maidens from their doom 
 
 Chorus 
 Both sisters art thou purposed to destroy? 
 
 Creon 
 Not her whose hands sinned not; thou askest well. 
 
 Chorus 
 What of the other? how shall she be slain? 
 
 Creon 
 By paths untrodden of men I will conduct her, 
 And shut her, living, in a vault, rock-hewn. 
 And there, with food, no more than shall suffice 
 To avert the guilt of murder from the city. 
 To Hades, the one god whom she reveres, 
 She, praying not to die, either shall have 
 Her asking, or shall learn, albeit too late, 
 That to revere the dead is fruitless toil. 
 
 {Exit.) 
 
26 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Chorus (Sings.) 
 
 Love, our conqueror, matchless in might, 
 Thou prevailest, O Love, thou dividest the prey 
 In damask cheeks of a maiden 
 
 Thy watch through the night is set. 
 
 Thou roamest over the sea; 
 
 On the hills, in the shepherd's huts, thou art; 
 
 Nor of deathless gods, nor of short-lived men, 
 
 From thy madness any escapeth. 
 
 Unjust, through thee, are the thoughts of the just. 
 
 Thou dost bend them, O Love, to thy will, to thy spite. 
 
 Unkindly strife thou hast kindled, 
 
 This wrangling of son with sire. 
 
 The fountains of my tears 
 
 1 can refrain no more. 
 
 Seeing Antigone here to the bridal chamber 
 Come, to the all-receiving chamber of Death 
 
 FOURTH EPISODE 
 
 Antigone (Led to the tomb.) 
 
 Friends and my countrymen, ye see me 
 Upon the last of all my ways 
 Set forth, the Sun-god's, latest light 
 Beholding, now and never more: 
 And me no bridal song hath ever sung. 
 But Acheron will make of me his bride 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Therefore renowned, with praise of men, 
 To yonder vault o' the dead thou goest. 
 By no slow-wasting sickness stricken, 
 Nor doomed to fall with those who win 
 The wages of the swords they drew. 
 But, being to thyself a law. 
 Alone of mortals the dark road 
 To deathward, living, thou shalt tread 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 127 
 
 Antigone 
 O Thebes, my city! 
 O wealthy men of Thebes! 
 But ye will witness — yes, to you I turn — 
 O fount Dircaean, and this sacred grove 
 Of Thebe the fair-charioted. 
 By what stern law, and how of friends unwept, 
 To that strange grave I go. 
 The massy dungeon for my burial heaped. 
 O luckless wight, 
 
 Exiled from earth nor housed below. 
 Both by the living and the dead disowned! 
 
 Chorus 
 To furthest brink of boldness thou didst stray. 
 And stumbling there, at foot of Justice's throne, 
 Full heavily, my daughter, hast thou fallen: 
 Yet of thy father's fault belike 
 This suffering pays the price. 
 
 Antigone 
 Thou hast touched, ev'n there, my bitterest pang of all, 
 A thrice-told tale, my father's grief — 
 And all our grievous doom. 
 
 Chorus 
 Religion prompts the reverent deed: 
 But power, to whomso power belongs. 
 Must nowise be transgressed; and thee 
 A self-willed temper hath o'erthrown. 
 
 Antigone 
 
 tomb! O nuptial chamber! O house deep-delved 
 In earth, safe-guarded ever! To thee I come. 
 
 And to my kin in thee, who many an one 
 Are with Persephone, dead among the dead: 
 And last of all, most miserably by far, 
 
 1 thither am going, ere my Ufe's term be done 
 
2 8 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 But a good hope I cherish, that, come there, 
 
 My father's love will greet me, yea and thine, 
 
 My mother — and thy welcome, brother dear: 
 
 Since, when ye died, I with mine own hands laved 
 
 And dressed your limbs, and poured upon your graves 
 
 Libations; and like service done to thee 
 
 Hath brought me, Polynices, now to this. 
 
 Yet well I honoured thee, the wise will say: 
 
 Yet I transgressed— what ordinance of heaven? 
 
 Why to the gods, ill-fated, any more 
 
 Should I look up — whom call to succour — since 
 
 Impiety my piety is named? 
 
 But, if these things are pleasing to the gods, 
 
 I'll freely own I suffered for my fault; 
 
 If theirs the fault, who doomed me, may to them 
 
 No worse befall than they unjustly do! 
 
 Chorus 
 Stormily still o'er the soul of the maiden 
 The self-same gusts of passion sweep. 
 
 Creon 
 Therefore, I warn them, ruth for their lingering, 
 To those who lead her, this shall cause. 
 
 Antigone 
 Short shrift, swift death — ah! woe is me — 
 This speech portends. 
 
 Creon 
 Lay to thy soul no flattering hope. 
 That unfulfilled this doom may be. 
 
 Antigone 
 O country of Thebes and my father's city, 
 And gods my progenitors, 
 Lo, how they lead me — now, and delay not. 
 O all ye princes of Thebes, behold me — 
 Of the race of your kings, me, sole surviving — 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 129 
 
 What things at the hands of what men I suffer 
 
 For the fear of the gods I feared. 
 
 Because I feared to cast away the fear of Heaven. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 FIFTH EPISODE 
 (Enter Teiresias, the blind seer.) 
 Teiresias 
 Princes of Thebes, we come — one sight for both 
 Our common road descrying, as behooves 
 Bhnd men to find their way by help of others. 
 
 Creon 
 What tidings, old Teiresias, dost thou bring? 
 
 Teiresias 
 Hear then the prophet, and attend his speech. 
 
 Creon 
 Have I aforetime from thy wisdom swerved? 
 
 Teiresias 
 So, clear of shoals, thou pilotest the state. 
 
 Creon 
 The service thou hast rendered I attest. 
 
 Teiresias 
 Once more on razor's edge thy fortunes stand. 
 
 Creon 
 Hearing thy speech, I shudder: tell me more. 
 
 Teiresias 
 My art's prognostications hear and judge. 
 For in my ancient seat, to watch the birds 
 In that their general gathering-place, I sat, 
 And heard an unintelligible noise, 
 A cry and clangour of birds, confused with rage; ^ 
 
130 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Scared by that sound, burnt-offerings I then 
 
 Essayed on blazing altars; but no flame 
 
 Leapt from the sacrifice; a clammy ooze 
 
 Reeked from the thighs, and 'mid the ashes dripped. 
 
 This from this boy I heard, whose eyes beheld 
 
 The failing signs of sacrifice obscure: 
 
 Others by me are guided, I by him. 
 
 And by thy will we are afilicted thus. 
 
 For now our hearths and altars every one 
 
 Have ravening dogs and birds fouled with the flesh 
 
 Of this poor fallen son of (Edipus; 
 
 And so no flame of victims burnt may move 
 
 Gods any more to hearken to our prayers. 
 
 And birds obscene flap forth a bodeful cry. 
 
 With fat of human carrion newly gorged. 
 
 Slight not, my son, such warning. For all men. 
 
 Both great and small, are liable to err: 
 
 But he who errs no more unfortunate 
 
 Or all unwise shall be, if having tripped 
 
 He rights the wrong nor stubbornly persists. 
 
 He who persists in folly is the fool. 
 
 Give death his due: stab not the fallen foe: 
 
 What valour is in this, to slay the slain? 
 
 Wisely I speak and well; and sweet it is 
 
 To hear good counsel, when it counsels gain. 
 
 Creon 
 Old man, ye all, as bowmen at a mark 
 Shoot at this man, and with your prophecies 
 Ye practice on me too, and mine own kin 
 Mere merchandise and sale work make of me. 
 Go to, but him, I say, ye shall not bury: 
 No, not if eagles, ministers of Zeus, 
 Should bear him piecemeal to their Master's throne. 
 Will I, for fear of such pollution, grant 
 Leave for his burial,^ knowing well that men 
 Soil not the stainless majesty of heaven. 
 
 * 1 The king, whose mind is as changeful as it is violent, instantly realizes 
 the impiety o? this utterance, and half retracts it. 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 131 
 
 But, aged seer, the wisest of mankind 
 Dishonourably may fall, who fairly speak 
 Dishonourable words, and all for gain. 
 
 Creon 
 Unlock them, only speaking not for gain. 
 
 Teiresias 
 So, for thy part indeed, methinks I shall. 
 
 Creon 
 Think not that in my purpose thou shalt trade. 
 
 Teiresias 
 But surely know that thou not many more 
 Revolving courses of the sun shalt pass. 
 Ere to thine own blood one, to make amends. 
 Dead for the dead, thou shalt have rendered up. 
 For that a living soul thou hast sent below. 
 And with dishonour in the grave hast lodged. 
 And that one dead thou boldest here cut off 
 From presence of the gods who reign below, 
 All rites of death, all obsequies denied — 
 With whom thou shouldst not meddle, nor the gods 
 In heaven, but of their due thou robb'st the dead. 
 Therefore The Avengers of Hades and the gods wait 
 For thee with ruin slow yet sure, 
 To take thee in the pit which thou hast dug. 
 Do I speak this for gold? Thyself shalt judge: 
 For, yet a little while, and wailings loud 
 Of men and women in thy house shall show. 
 So like a bowman have I launched at thee 
 In wrath, — for thou provok'st me, — shafts indeed 
 To pierce thy heart, and fail not, from whose smart 
 Thou'lt not escape. But now, boy, lead me home. 
 That he may vent his spleen on younger men. 
 And learn to keep a tongue more temperate. 
 And in his breast a better mind than now. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
132 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Chorus 
 The man has prophesied dread things, O king, 
 And gone : and never have I known — not since 
 These temples changed their raven locks to snow — 
 That aught of false this city heard from him. 
 
 Creon 
 Yea, this I know, and much am I perplexed: 
 For hard it is to yield, but standing firm 
 I fear to pluck swift ruin on my pride. 
 
 Chorus 
 Son of Menoeceus, be advised in time. 
 
 Creon 
 Say then, what must I do? and I'll obey. 
 
 Chorus 
 Go, from her prison in the rock release 
 The maiden, and the unburied corpse inter. 
 
 Creon 
 Dost thou think this, and wouldst thou have me yield? 
 
 Chorus 
 Yea, king, and quickly; for the gods cut short 
 With sudden scathe the foolishness of men. 
 
 Creon 
 Hardly indeed, but yet with forced consent 
 ril do it, stooping to necessity. 
 
 Chorus 
 Do it, and go; leave not this task to others. 
 
 Creon 
 Even as I am. Til go; and, servants, haste. 
 That hear and hear me not; axes in hand, 
 All to yon spot, far-seen, make good your speed. 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 133 
 
 But I, since this way now my mind is bent, 
 Whom I myself have bound, myself will loose. 
 For now my heart misgives me, he lives best, 
 Whose feet depart not from the ancient ways. 
 
 {Exit.y 
 
 Convinced that the danger is now averted, the chorus 
 sing a confident hymn of supplication to Bacchus, the 
 especial local divinity of Thebes. During this song sev- 
 eral hours must be supposed to elapse. 
 
 EXODUS 
 
 Messenger {Entering.) 
 Neighbors of Cadmus,^ and the royal house 
 Of old Amphion,^ no man's life would I, 
 How high or low soever, praise or blame. 
 Since, who to-day has fortune, good or ill, 
 To-morrow's fortune lifts or lays him low; 
 For Creon before was happy, as I deemed; 
 Now all is lost. For when the joys of life 
 Men have relinquished, no more Ufe indeed. 
 
 Chorus 
 Of what grief now of princes wilt thou tell? 
 
 Messenger 
 Hsemon is dead: his death no stranger's act. 
 
 Chorus 
 Slain by himself, or by his father's hand? 
 
 Messenger 
 Wroth with his pitiless sire, he slew himself. 
 
 1 The King sets forth; but, perverse to the last, he waits to see the dead 
 buried, and lets slip the time when the living might yet have been rescued, 
 
 2 Ancient kings and founders of Thebes, 
 
134 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Chorus 
 Lo, hard at hand the miserable queen, 
 Eurydice: who from the house comes forth 
 Either by chance, or hearing of her son. 
 
 Eurydice {From the palace.) 
 Good townsmen, all, your conference I heard, 
 As to the doors I came, intending now 
 Of Pallas to entreat her heavenly aid. 
 But tell me now your tidings once again — 
 For, not unlearned in sorrow, I shall hear. 
 
 Messenger 
 Dear mistress, I will tell thee what I saw. 
 And not leave out one word of all the truth. 
 Thy husband hence I followed at the heels 
 To that high plain, where torn by dogs the body 
 Of Polynices lay, unpitied still. 
 A prayer we said to Hecate* in the way 
 And Pluto, their displeasure to refrain. 
 Then, sprinkling with pure water, in new-stript boughs 
 Wrapped round and burned the fragments that remained. 
 A lofty funeral-mound of native earth 
 We heaped for him; then sought the maiden's bed, 
 Her bridal bed with Hades in the rock. 
 And from afar a voice of shrill lament 
 About the unhallowed chamber some one heard, 
 And came to Creon, and told it to his lord. 
 And in his ears, approaching, the wild cry 
 Rang doubtfully, till now there brake from him 
 A word of sharp despair, **0 wretched man. 
 What fear is at my heart? and am I going 
 The wofuUest road that ever I have gone? 
 It is my son's voice greets me. Good servants, go. 
 Go nearer quickly; and standing by the tomb. 
 Even to the throat of the vault peer through and look, 
 Where the wrenched stonework gapes, if Haemon's voice 
 1 Goddess of roads and crossways, injured by the neglect of the corpse. 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 135 
 
 I recognize indeed, or by the gods 
 
 Am cheated!" Crazed with his fear, he spake; and we 
 
 Looked as he bade; and in the last of the tomb 
 
 We saw the maiden — hanged: about her neck 
 
 Some shred of Hnen had served her for a noose: 
 
 And fallen upon her, clasping her, he lay, 
 
 Wailing his wasted passion in the grave, 
 
 His fatal father, and his luckless bride. 
 
 His father saw, and crying a bitter cry 
 
 Went in, and with a lamentable voice 
 
 Called him, **0 rash, what is it that thou hast done? 
 
 What wouldst thou? On what madness hast thou rushed? 
 
 My son, come forth: I pray thee — I implore." 
 
 But with fierce eyes the boy glared at his sire 
 
 And looks of loathing, and for answer plucked 
 
 Forth a two-hilted sword, and would have struck, 
 
 But missed him, as he fled: and in that minute, 
 
 Wroth with himself, in his own side amain 
 
 Thrust deep the steel, unhappy; and conscious still 
 
 Folded the maiden in his fainting arms ; 
 
 Then, gasping out his life in one sharp breath. 
 
 Pelted her pale cheek with the crimson shower. 
 
 Dead with the dead he lies, such nuptial rites 
 
 In halls of Hades, luckless, having won. 
 
 Chorus 
 How should one deem of this. The queen, without 
 A word, of good or evil, has gone hence. 
 
 Messenger 
 Indeed, 'tis strange; but yet I feed on hope 
 That to lament in public for her son 
 She will not deign; but, as for private sorrow. 
 Will charge her women in the house to weep. 
 She is well tried in prudence, not to fail. 
 
 Chorus 
 I know not; but to me the too-much silence. 
 No less than clamorous grief, seems perilous, 
 
136 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Messenger 
 I will go hence to the house, and know, if aught 
 Of secret purpose in her raging heart 
 She hath kept locked from us. Thou sayest well: 
 The too-much silence may bode mischief too. 
 
 Chorus 
 Lo, the king comes hither himself, in his hands 
 The record, not doubtful its purport, bearing; 
 No grief (I dare say) wrought by another. 
 But the weight of his own misdoing. 
 
 Creon 
 Alas, my purblind wisdom's fatal fault. 
 Stubborn, and fraught with death! 
 Ye see us, sire and son. 
 The slayer and the slain. 
 O counsels all unblest! 
 Alas for thee, my son, 
 So young a life and so untimely quenched — 
 Gone from me, past recall — 
 Not by thy folly, but my own I 
 
 Chorus 
 Ah, how too late thou dost discern the truth ! 
 
 Creon 
 Yea, to my cost I know: but then, methinks, 
 Oh, then some god with crushing weight 
 Leapt on me, drave me into frantic ways. 
 Trampling, alas for me. 
 In the base dust my ruined joy. 
 O toil and trouble of mortals — trouble and toil ! 
 
 Second Messenger 
 Trouble, O king, thine own and none but thine. 
 Thou comest, methinks, part bearing in thy hands; 
 Part — in the house thou hast, and soon shalt see. 
 
Sophocles and the Antigone 137 
 
 Creon 
 What more, what worse than evil, yet remains? 
 
 Second Messenger 
 Thy wife is dead, with desperate hand ev'n now 
 Self-slain, for this dead son for whom she lived. 
 
 Creon 
 O harbour of Hades, never to be appeased. 
 Why art thou merciless? 
 What heavy news is this? 
 Harsh news to me of grief. 
 That slays me, slain before! 
 A woful word indeed. 
 
 Telling of slaughter upon slaughter heaped, 
 To me, the twice-bereaved. 
 At one fell swoop, of son and wife! 
 
 Creon 
 Oh lead me hence, unprofitable; who thee 
 Unwittingly have slain. 
 
 Child, and my wife, unhappy; and know not now 
 Which way to look to either: for all things 
 Are crooked that I handle, and a fate 
 Intolerable upon my life hath leapt. 
 
 Chorus 
 First of all happiness far is wisdom. 
 And to the gods that one fail not of piety. 
 But great words of the overweening 
 Lay great stripes to the backs of the boasters; 
 Taught by adversity, 
 Old age learns, too late, to be wise. 
 
 Perhaps the poet felt this last scene necessary, in order 
 that he, or the just gods, may side unmistakably with 
 Antigone, overwhelming Creon in a doom far worse than 
 hers. Her utter loneliness, the absence of assurance, 
 
138 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 uttered to her by any one, that her deed is and will be 
 fully appreciated, gives a certain austerity to the whole 
 drama. Either ^schylus or Euripides would have intro- 
 duced some divine character to justify her most completely. 
 But few readers will regret even the loneliness that sets, 
 as it were, upon an even loftier pedestal the generous 
 heroism of this all but faultless maid. Neither ancient 
 nor modern poet has delineated a nobler nature. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 The version here used for the "Antigone" is Whitelaw's, 
 which is warmly praised by Jebb. Campbell and Plumptre have 
 also rendered the seven plays. Professor Jebb's masterly prose 
 translation appeared, originally, facing the Greek text, in his 
 exhaustive edition of Sophocles in seven luxurious volumes. 
 Those volumes also contain the best introductions, and literary 
 criticism generally, that the works of Sophocles have ever received. 
 This translation has just been made accessible, in a single vol- 
 ume (published by Macmillan), to those who are not students of 
 Greek. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 EURIPIDES AND THE ALCESTIS 
 
 The Glory of Self-Sacrifice. 
 
 Euripides is in many ways the most modern of all 
 Greeks. The pathos of common life, the heroism shown 
 especially by those in humble station, often accorded ill 
 with the stately robes, the mask and buskin, of the tra- 
 ditional drama. While ^schylus feels the resistless 
 sweep of righteous law divine, and Sophocles at least 
 trusts that man, master of his own soul, may learn wis- 
 dom through suffering, Euripides is hopelessly perplexed 
 by the contradictions of life. If gods there be, he seems 
 to say, they must be quarrelsome, their rule chaotic. He 
 has even been seriously accused, in our own day, of an 
 effort to undermine all beHef in the very Olympic divini- 
 ties whom he is so fond of using for spectacular effect, 
 or to cut the knot of the tragic plot. 
 
 His happiest play, which is also the popular favorite, 
 is the oldest one of his preserved, having been performed 
 in 438 B.C., before the terrible war with Sparta began to 
 sadden all hearts. It is, furthermore, the afterpiece: — 
 the fourth in the group of dramas written by the poet to 
 be performed together. Hence, though by no means 
 comic as a whole, it contains many lighter touches, and 
 a happy finale. 
 
 The scene is before the palace of King Admetus, 
 whose wife has consented to die this day in his stead. 
 
 139 
 
140 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 On this same morning divine Apollo's year of exile and 
 servitude, as Admetus' herdsman, ends. An attentive 
 reading of the play will clear up nearly all obscurities. 
 
 ALCESTIS 
 
 {Enter Apollo, from the palace.) 
 
 Apollo 
 Halls of Admetus, where I stooped my pride 
 To brook the fare of serfs, yea I, a God; — 
 The fault was fault of Zeus: he slew my son 
 Asklepius — hurled the levin through his heart. 
 Wroth for the dead, his smiths of heavenly fire 
 I slew, the Cyclopes; and, for blood-atonement. 
 Serf to a mortal man my father made me. 
 To this land came I, tended mine host's kine. 
 And warded still his house unto this day. 
 Righteous myself, I lighted on the righteous. 
 The son of Pheres: him I snatched from death. 
 Cozening the Fates : to me the Sisters ^ pledged them 
 That imminent death Admetus should escape 
 If he for ransom gave another life. 
 To all he went — all near and dear, — and asked 
 Grey sire, the mother that had given him life; 
 But, save his wife, found none that would consent 
 For him to die and never more see light. 
 Now in his arms upborne within yon home 
 She gaspeth forth her life : for on this day 
 Her weird^ it is to die and part from life. 
 I, lest pollution taint me in their house. 
 Go forth to yonder hall's beloved roof. 
 
 1 The three tates. 
 
 2 Fortune, fate. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 141 
 
 {Enter Death.) 
 
 Lo, yonder Death! — I see him nigh at hand, 
 Priest of the dead, who comes to hale her down 
 To Hades' halls — well hath he kept his time, 
 Watching this day, whereon she needs must die. 
 
 Death 
 
 Ha, thou at the palace ! — Wilt not make room, 
 Phoebus? — thou wrestest the right yet again. 
 Thou removest the landmarks of Gods of Gloom. 
 And thou makest their honours vain. 
 Did this not suffice thee, to thwart that doom 
 Of Admetus, when all by thy cunning beguiled 
 Were the Fates, that thou now must be warding the wife 
 With thine hand made ready the bowstring to strain. 
 Though she pledged her from death to redeem with her life 
 Her lord — she, Pehas* child? 
 
 Apollo 
 Fear not : fair words and justice are with me. 
 
 Death 
 Justice with thee! — what needeth then the bow? 
 
 Apollo 
 
 This? — 'tis my wont to bear it evermore. 
 
 Death 
 Yea, and to aid yon house in lawless wise. 
 
 Apollo 
 Mine heart is heavy for my friend's mischance. 
 
 Death 
 What, wilt thou wrest from me this second corpse? 
 
 Apollo 
 Nay, not that other did I take by force. 
 
142 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Death 
 Not? — why on earth then? — why not underground? 
 
 Apollo 
 She was his ransom, she for whom thou earnest. 
 
 Death 
 Yea, and will hale her deep beneath the earth. 
 
 Apollo 
 So then thou wilt not grant this grace to me? 
 
 Death 
 Nay surely — dost not know my wonted way? 
 
 Apollo 
 Surely thou shalt forbear, though ruthless thou, 
 So mighty a man ^ to Pheres' hall shall come. 
 By force yon woman shall he wrest from thee. 
 Yea, thou of me shalt have no thank for this. 
 And yet shalt do it, and shalt have mine hate. 
 
 (ExU Apollo.) 
 
 Death 
 Talk on, talk on; no profit shalt thou win. 
 This woman down to Hades* halls shall pass. 
 For her I go: my sword shall seal her ours* 
 For sacred to the Nether Gods is he. 
 He from whose head this sword hath shorn the hair. 
 
 (Exit Death.) 
 
 (Enter Chorus, dividing to right and left, so that the sections 
 answer one another till they unite.) 
 
 Half-Chorus i 
 What meaneth this hush afront of the hall? 
 The home of Admetus, why voiceless all? 
 
 1 Heracles. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 143 
 
 Half-Chorus 2 
 No friend of the house who should speak of its phght 
 Is nigh, who should bid that we raise the keen ^ 
 For the dead, or should tell us that yet on the light 
 Alcestis looketh, and liveth the Queen, 
 The daughter of Pelias, the noblest, I ween, 
 
 Yea, in all men's sight 
 The noblest of women on earth that have been. 
 
 Half-Chorus i 
 Or hearest thou mourning or sighing 
 
 Or beating of hands, 
 Or the wail of bereaved ones outcrying? 
 No handmaid stands 
 At the palace-gate. 
 O Healer, appear for the dying, appear as a bright bird 
 flying 
 
 Twixt the surges of fate! 
 
 Half-Chorus 2 
 Ah, they would not be hushed, had the life of her flown ! 
 
 Half-Chorus i 
 Not forth of the doors is the death-train gone 
 
 {Enter Handmaid.) 
 
 But hither cometh of the handmaids one, 
 Weeping the while. What tidings shall I hear? 
 — To grieve at all mischance unto thy lords 
 May be forgiven; but if thy lady lives 
 Or even now hath passed, fain would we know. 
 
 Handmaid 
 She liveth, and is dead: both may'st thou say 
 
 Chorus 
 Ay so? — how should the same be dead and live? 
 
 1 Dirge, lamentation. 
 
144 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Handmaid 
 Even now she droopeth, gasping out her life. 
 
 Chorus 
 Are all things meet, the.i, being done for her? 
 
 Handmaid 
 Yea, ready is her burial-attire. 
 
 Chorus 
 Let her be sure that glorious she dies 
 And noblest woman 'neath the sun's wide way. 
 
 Handmaid 
 Noblest? — how not? — what tongue will dare gainsay? 
 What must the woman be who passeth her? 
 How could a wife give honour to her lord 
 More than by yielding her to die for him? 
 And this — yea, all the city knoweth this. 
 But what within she did, hear thou, and marvel. 
 For when she knew that the appointed day 
 Was come, in river-water her white skin 
 She bathed, and from the cedar-chest took forth 
 Vesture and jewels, and decked her gloriously. 
 And stood before the hearth, and prayed, and said : * 
 ** Queen, for I pass beneath the earth, I fall 
 Before thee now, and nevermore, and pray: — 
 Be mother to my orphans: mate with him 
 A loving wife, with her a noble husband. 
 Nor, as their mother dieth, so may they, 
 My children, die untimely, but with weal 
 In the home-land fill up a life of bliss.'* 
 To all the altars through Admetus' halls 
 She went; with wreaths she hung them, and she prayed, 
 Plucking the while the tresses of the myrtle, 
 Tearless, unsighing, and the imminent fate 
 Changed not the lovely rose-tint of her cheek. 
 Then to her bower she rushed, fell on the bed; 
 
 1 The prayer is to Hestia or Vesta, the goddess of the heartbside. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 145 
 
 And there, O there she wept, and thus she speaks: 
 '*0 couch, whereon I loosed the maiden zone 
 For this man, for whose sake I die to-day. 
 Farewell: I hate thee not. Me hast thou lost, 
 Me only: loth to fail thee and my lord 
 I die : but thee another bride shall own, 
 Not more true-hearted; happier perchance." 
 Then falls thereon, and kisses: all the bed 
 Is watered with the flood of melting eyes. 
 But having wept her fill of many tears, 
 Drooping she goeth, reehng from the couch; 
 Yet oft, as forth the bower she passed, returned. 
 And flung herself again upon the couch. 
 And the babes, clinging to their mother's robes. 
 Were weeping; and she clasped them in her arms. 
 Fondling now this, now that, as one death-doomed. 
 And all the servants 'neath the roof were weeping. 
 Pitying their lady. But to each she stretched 
 Her right hand forth; and none there was so mean 
 To whom she spake not and received reply. 
 Such are the ills Admetus' home within. 
 
 Chorus 
 Doth not Admetus groan for this affliction 
 Of such a noble wife to be bereft.? 
 
 Handmaid 
 Ay, weeps, and clasps his dear one in his arms. 
 And prays, '* Forsake me not!" — asking the while 
 The impossible, for still she wanes and wastes, 
 Drooping her hand, a misery-burdened weight. 
 But yet, albeit hardly breathing now. 
 To the sun's rays fain would she lift her eyes. 
 But I will go and make thy presence known: 
 For 'tis not all that love so well their kings 
 As to stand by them, in afflictions loyal. 
 
 (Several smaller sections of the chorus probably 
 chanted the next passages in succession.) 
 
146 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Chorus i 
 O Zeus, for our lords is there nought but despair? 
 No path through the tangle of evils, no loosing of chains 
 that have bound them? 
 
 Chorus 2 
 No tidings? — remaineth but rending of hair, 
 And the stricken ones turned to the tomb with the gar- 
 ments of sorrow around them? 
 
 Chorus 3 
 Even so — even so! yet uplift we in prayer 
 Our hands to the Gods, for that power from the days 
 everlasting hath crowned them. 
 
 Chorus 4 
 O Healer-king, 
 
 Find thou for Admetus the balm of relief, for the captive 
 deliverance ! 
 
 (Enter female Attendants bearing Alcestis, accompanied by 
 Admetus and Children.) 
 
 Alcestis (Sings.) 
 O Sun, and the day's dear light, 
 
 And ye clouds through the wheeling heaven in the race 
 everlasting flying! 
 
 Admetus 
 He seeth thee and me, two stricken ones. 
 Which wrought the Gods no wrong, that thou shouldst die. 
 
 Alcestis (Sings.) 
 O Land, O stately height 
 
 Of mine halls, and my bridal couch in lolkos my father- 
 land lying! 
 
 Admetus 
 Uplift thee, hapless love, forsake me not. 
 And pray the mighty Gods in ruth to turn. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 147 
 
 Alcestis (Sings.) 
 I see the Boat with the oars twin-sweeping, 
 And, his hand on the pole as in haste aye keeping, 
 Charon the Ferryman calleth, **What ho, wilt thou linger 
 
 and linger? 
 Hasten, — 'tis thou dost delay me!" he crieth with beck- 
 oning finger 
 
 Admetus 
 Ah me ! a bitter ferrying this thou namest I 
 
 evil-starred, what woes endure we now! 
 
 Alcestis (Sings.) 
 One haleth me — haleth me hence to the mansion 
 Of the dead! — dost thou mark not the darkling expansion 
 Of the pinions of Hades, the blaze of his eyes 'neath their 
 
 caverns out-glaring? 
 What wouldst thou? — Unhand me! — In anguish and pain 
 
 by what path am I faring! 
 
 Admetus 
 Woeful to them that love thee: most to me 
 And to thy babes, sad sharers in this grief. 
 
 Alcestis 
 Admetus, — for thou seest all my plight, — 
 Fain would I speak mine heart's wish ere I die. 
 I, honouring thee, and setting thee in place 
 Before mine own soul still to see this light. 
 Am dying, unconstrained to die for thee. 
 
 1 might have wed what man Thessalian 
 
 I would, have dwelt wealth-crowned in princely halls; 
 Yet would not live on, torn away from thee. 
 With orphaned children: wherefore spared I not 
 The gifts of youth still mine, wherein I joyed. 
 Yet she that bare, he that begat, forsook thee. 
 Though fair for death their time of life was come, 
 Yea, fair, to save their son and die renowned. 
 Let be: — remember thou what thank is due 
 
148 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 For this: I never can ask full requital; — 
 
 For nought there is more precious than the life ; — 
 
 Yet justly due : for these thy babes thou lovest 
 
 No less than I, if that thine heart be right. 
 
 Suffer that they have lordship in mine home: 
 
 Wed not a stepdame to supplant our babes, 
 
 Whose jealous hand shall smite them, thine and mine. 
 
 Do not, ah, do not this — I pray thee, I. 
 
 The boy — his father is his tower of strength 
 
 But, O my child, what girlhood will be thine? 
 
 To thee what would she be, thy father's yoke-mate? 
 
 What if with ill report she smirched thy name. 
 
 And in thy youth's flower marred thy marriage-hopes? 
 
 For thee thy mother ne'er shall deck for bridal. 
 
 Nor hearten thee in travail, O my child, 
 
 There, where nought gentler than the mother is. 
 
 For I must die, nor shall it be to morn. 
 
 Nor on the third day comes on me this bane: 
 
 Straightway of them that are not shall I be. 
 
 Farewell, be happy. Now for thee, my lord. 
 
 Abides the boast to have won the noblest wife. 
 
 For you, my babes, to have sprung from noblest mother. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Fear not; for I am bold to speak for him 
 This will he do, an if he be not mad. 
 
 Admetus 
 
 It shall, it shall be, dread not thou : for thee 
 Living I had; and dead, mine only wife 
 Shalt thou be called: nor ever in thy stead 
 Shall bride Thessalian hail me as her lord. 
 Children enough have I : I pray the Gods 
 For joy in these — our joy in thee is nought. 
 Not for a year's space will I mourn for thee. 
 But long as this my life shall last, dear wife, 
 Revels shall cease, and gatherings at the wine. 
 Garlands, and song, which wont to fill mine house. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 149 
 
 And, wrought by craftsmen's cunning hands, thy form 
 
 Imaged, upon a couch outstretched shall he. 
 
 Falling whereon, and clasping with mine hands, 
 
 CaUing thy name, in fancy shall mine arms 
 
 Hold my beloved, though I hold her not: — 
 
 A chill delight, I wot: yet shall I lift 
 
 The burden from my soul. In dreams shalt thou 
 
 Haunt me and gladden: sweet to see the loved, 
 
 Though but a fleeting presence night-revealed. 
 
 But, were the tongue and strain of Orpheus mine, 
 
 To witch Demeter's Daughter and her lord,^ 
 
 And out of Hades by my song to win thee, 
 
 I had fared down: nor Pluto's Hound had stayed me, 
 
 Nor Spirit-wafter Charon at the oar. 
 
 Or ever I restored thy life to light. 
 
 Yet there look thou for me, whenso I die; 
 
 Prepare a home, as who shall dwell with me. 
 
 For in the selfsame cedar chest, wherein 
 
 Thou liest, will I bid them lay my bones 
 
 Outstretched beside thee: ne'er may I be severed. 
 
 No, not in death, from thee, my one true friend. 
 
 Alcestis 
 On these terms take the children from mine hand. 
 
 Admetus 
 I take them — precious gift from precious hand. 
 
 Alcestis 
 Be to these babes a mother in my stead. 
 
 Admetus 
 Sore is their need, who are bereft of thee. 
 
 Alcestis 
 Dark — dark — mine eyes are drooping, heavy-laden. 
 
 1 Persephone, daughter of Demeter, is wedded to Pluto, king of Hades, 
 the world of the dead. Orpheus by his music softened Pluto's heart so that 
 the singer was allowed to lead back to the light his dead wife. 
 
150 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Admetus 
 Uplift thy face : forsake not thine own children ! 
 
 Alcestis 
 Sore loth do I — ^yet O farewell, my babes! 
 
 Admetus 
 Look unto them — O look! 
 
 Alcestis 
 
 I am no more. 
 
 Admetus 
 Ah, leav*st thou us? 
 
 Alcestis 
 Farewell. (Dies,) 
 
 Admetus 
 
 O wretch undone ! 
 Chorus 
 Gone, — gone! — No more is this Admetus' wife! 
 
 Eumelus (Sings.) 
 Woe for my lot I — to the tomb hath my mother descended, 
 
 descended ! 
 Never again, O my father, she seeth the light of the sun ! 
 In anguish she leaves us forsaken: the story is ended, is 
 
 ended. 
 Of her sheltering love, and the tale of the motherless life 
 
 is begun. 
 Look — look on her eyelids, her hands drooping nerve- 
 less! O hear me, O hear me! 
 It is I — I beseech thee, my mother! — thine own little, 
 
 own little bird I 
 It is I — O, I cast me upon thee — thy lips are so near me, 
 
 so near me. 
 Unto mine am I pressing them, mother! — I plead for a 
 
 word — but a word! 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 151 
 
 Admetus 
 
 With her who heareth not, nor seeth : ye 
 And I are stricken with a heavy doom. 
 
 EuMELUS (Sings.) 
 
 And I am but a little one, father — so young, and forsaken, 
 
 forsaken, 
 Forlorn of my mother — O hapless ! a weariful lot shall be 
 
 mine! 
 And thou, little maiden, my sister, the burden hast taken, 
 
 hast taken. 
 Which thy brother may bear not alone, and a weariful lot 
 
 shall be thine. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Admetus, this mischance thou needs must bear. 
 Not first of mortals thou, nor shalt be last 
 To lose a noble wife; and, be thou sure, 
 From us, from all, this debt is due — to die. 
 
 Admetus 
 
 I know it : nowise unforeseen this ill 
 
 Hath swooped upon me : long I grieved to know it. 
 
 But — for to burial must I bear my dead — 
 
 Stay ye, and, tarrying, echo back my wail 
 
 To that dark God whom no drink-offerings move. 
 
 And all Thessalians over whom I rule 
 
 I bid take part in mourning for this woman, 
 
 With shaven head and sable-shrouding robe. 
 
 And ye which yoke the cars four-horsed, or steeds 
 
 Of single frontlet, shear with steel their manes. 
 
 Music of flutes the city through, or lyres. 
 
 Be none, while twelve moons round their circles out: 
 
 For dearer dead, nor kinder unto me 
 
 I shall not bury: worthy of mine honour 
 
 Is she, for she alone hath died for me. {Exit.) 
 
152 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Pelias' daughter, I hail thee: 
 
 1 waft thee eternal farewell 
 
 To thine home where the darkness must veil thee, 
 Where in Hades unsunned thou shalt dwell. 
 Know, Dark-haired, thy grey Spirit-wafter 
 Hath sped not with twy ^-plashing oar 
 Woman nobler, nor shall speed hereafter 
 To Acheron's shore. 
 
 Heracles (Entering.) 
 Strangers, who dwell in this Pheraian land. 
 Say, do I find Admetus in his home? 
 
 Chorus 
 Heracles, in his home is Pheres* son. 
 Yet say, what brings thee to Thessalian land. 
 That thou shouldst come to this Pheraian town? 
 
 Heracles 
 For Thracian Diomedes' four-horsed chariot. 
 
 Chorus 
 Not save by battle may those steeds be won. 
 
 Heracles 
 Not this the first time I have run such course. 
 
 Chorus 
 What profit is it if thou slay their lord? 
 
 Heracles 
 Those steeds shall I drive back to Tiryns' king.' 
 
 Chorus 
 Yea, but with ravening jaws do they rend men. 
 
 iTwo. 
 
 2£urystheus, whom Heracles is bound to serve. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 153 
 
 Heracles 
 Go to — thus banquet mountain-beasts, not horses. 
 
 Chorus 
 Nay, thou shalt see their cribs with gore bespattered. 
 
 Heracles 
 Whom boasteth he for father, he that reared them? 
 
 Chorus 
 Ares,* the king of Thracia*s golden shield. 
 
 Heracles 
 Thou say*st: such toil my fate imposeth still. 
 Harsh evermore, uphillward straining aye. 
 But never man shall see Alkmene's child 
 Quailing before the hand of any foe. 
 
 Chorus 
 Lo, there himself, the ruler of the land, 
 Admetus, cometh forth his palace-hall. 
 
 {Enter Admetus.) 
 
 Admetus 
 Hail, O thou sprung from Zeus' and Perseus' blood I 
 
 Heracles 
 Admetus, hail thou too, Thessalia's king. 
 
 Admetus 
 Hale? — Would I were! Yet thy good heart I know. 
 
 Heracles 
 Wherefore for mourning shaven show'st thou thus? 
 
 Admetus 
 This day must I commit to earth a corpse. 
 1 Ares, the wargod, is the especial patron of savage Thrace. 
 
154 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Heracles 
 Now heaven forefend thou mourn 'st for children dead! 
 
 Admetus 
 In mine home live the babes whom I begat. 
 
 Heracles 
 Sooth, death-ripe were thy sire, if he be gone. 
 
 Admetus 
 He liveth, and my mother, Heracles. 
 
 Heracles 
 Surely, O surely, not thy wife, Admetus? 
 
 Admetus 
 Twofold must be mine answer touching her, 
 
 Heracles 
 Or hath she died, say'st thou, or liveth yet? 
 
 Admetus 
 She is, and she is not: here lies my sorrow. 
 
 Heracles 
 Nothing the more I know: dark sayings thine. 
 
 Admetus 
 Know'st not the doom whereon she needs must light? 
 
 Heracles 
 I know she pledged herself to die for thee. 
 
 Admetus 
 How lives she then, if she to this consented? 
 
 Heracles 
 Mourn not thy wife ere dead; abide the hour. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 155 
 
 Admetus 
 Dead is the doomed, and no more is the dead. 
 
 Heracles 
 — But now, why weep'st thou? What dear friend is dead? 
 
 Admetus 
 A woman — hers the memory we mourn. 
 
 Heracles 
 Some stranger born, or nigh of kin to thee? 
 
 Admetus 
 A stranger bom; yet near and dear to us. 
 
 Heracles 
 Would we had found thee mourning not, Admetus. 
 
 Admetus 
 Ay so? — what purpose lurketh 'neath thy word? 
 
 Heracles 
 On will I to another host's hearth- welcome. 
 
 Admetus 
 It cannot be : may no such evil come ! 
 
 Heracles 
 A burden unto mourners comes the guest. 
 
 Admetus 
 Aloof the guest-bowers are where we will lodge thee. 
 
 Heracles 
 Let me pass on, and have my thanks unmeasured. 
 
 Admetus 
 Unto another's hearth thou canst not go. 
 
156 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 {To an attendant.) 
 
 Ho thou, lead on : open the guest-bowers looking 
 Away from these our chambers. Tell my stewards 
 To set on meat in plenty. Shut withal 
 The mid-court doors: it fits not that the guests, 
 The while they feast, hear wailings, and be vexed. 
 
 {Exit Heracles.) 
 
 Chorus 
 
 What dost thou? — such affliction at the door, 
 And guests for thee, Admetus? Art thou mad? 
 
 Admetus 
 
 But had I driven him from my home and city 
 Who came my guest, then hadst thou praised me more? 
 Yea, and myself have proved him kindliest host 
 Whene'er to Argos' thirsty plain I fared. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Why hide then the dread Presence in the house. 
 When came a friend? — Thyself hast named him friend. 
 
 Admetus 
 
 Never had he been won to pass my doors, 
 Had he one whit of mine afflictions known. 
 
 Chorus {Sings.) 
 
 Halls thronged of the guests ever welcome, O dwelling 
 Of a hero, for ever the home of the free, 
 The Lord of the lyre-strings sweet beyond telling, 
 Apollo, hath deigned to sojourn in thee. 
 Amid thine habitations, a shepherd of sheep. 
 The flocks of Admetus he scorned not to keep. 
 While the shepherd's bridal-strains, soft-swelling 
 From his pipe, pealed over the slant-sloped lea. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 157 
 
 Admetus 
 
 kindly presence of Pheraian men, 
 
 This corpse even now, with all things meet, my servants 
 Bear on their shoulders to the tomb and pyre. 
 Wherefore, as custom is, hail ye the dead. 
 On the last journey as she goeth forth. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Lo, I behold thy sire with aged foot 
 Advancing, and attendants in their hands 
 Bear ornaments to deck the dead withal. 
 
 {Enter Pheres with Attendants hearing gifts.) 
 
 Pheres 
 
 1 come in thine afflictions sorrowing, son: 
 A noble wife and virtuous hast thou lost, 
 None will gainsay: yet these calamities 
 
 We needs must bear, how hard to bear soever. 
 
 Receive these ornaments, and let her pass 
 
 Beneath the earth: well may the corpse be honoured 
 
 Of her who for thy life's sake died, my son; 
 
 O saviour of my son, who us upraisedst 
 
 In act to fall, all hail! May Miss be thine 
 
 Even in Hades. Thus to wed, I say, 
 
 Profiteth men — or nothing worth is marriage 
 
 Admetus 
 
 Bidden of me thou com'st not to this burial. 
 Nor count I thine the presence of a friend. 
 Thine ornaments she never shall put on; 
 True father of my body thou wast not; 
 Nor she that said she bare me, and was called 
 My mother, gave me birth: of bondman blood 
 To thy wife's breast was I brought privily. 
 So old, and standing on the verge of life. 
 Yet hadst no will, yet hadst no heart to die 
 For thine own son! — Ye suffered her, a woman 
 
158 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Not of our house, whom I with righteous cause 
 
 Might count alone my mother and my father. 
 
 Yet here was honour, hadst thou dared the strife, 
 
 In dying for thy son. A paltry space 
 
 To cling to life in any wise was left. 
 
 Then had I lived, and she, through days to come. 
 
 Nor I, left lorn, should thus mine ills bemoan. 
 
 Yet all that may the fortunate betide 
 
 Fell to thy lot; in manhood's prime a king: 
 
 Me hadst thou son and heir unto thine house 
 
 So that thou wast not, dying, like to leave 
 
 A childless home for stranger folk to spoil. 
 
 Not I with this mine hand will bury thee. 
 
 For thee dead am I. If I see the light, — 
 
 Another saviour found, — I call me son 
 
 To her, and loving fosterer of her age. 
 
 For nought the aged pray for death's release, 
 
 Plaining of age and weary-wearing time. 
 
 Let death draw near — who then would die? Not one; 
 
 No more is eld a burden unto them. 
 
 Chorus 
 O hush! Suffice the affliction at the doors. 
 O son, infuriate not thy father's soul. 
 
 Pheres 
 This insolence passethi — hurling malapert words 
 On me, not lightly thus shalt thou come off! 
 Thee I begat and nurtured, of mine house 
 The heir: no debt is mine to die for thee. 
 Not from our sires such custom we received 
 That sires for sons should die: no Greek law this. 
 What is my wrong, my robbery of thee? 
 For me die thou not, I die not for thee. 
 Thou joy'st to see light — shall thy father joy not? 
 Sooth, I account our time beneath the earth 
 Long, and our Hfe-space short, yet is it sweet. 
 Shamelessly hast thou fought against thy death: 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 159 
 
 Thy life is but transgression of thy doom 
 And murder of thy wife: — my cowardice! 
 Cunning device hast thou devised to die 
 Never, cajoHng still wife after wife 
 To die for thee! — and dost revile thy friends 
 Who will not so — and thou the coward, thou? 
 Peace! e'en bethink thee, if thou lov'st thy Hfe, 
 So all love theirs. Thou, if thou speakest evil 
 Of us, shalt hear much evil, and that true. 
 
 Chorus 
 Ye have said too much, thou now, and he before. 
 Refrain, old sire, from railing on thy son. 
 
 Admetus 
 Say on, say on; I have said: if hearing truth 
 Gall thee, thou shouldest not have done me wrong. 
 
 Pheres 
 One life to live, not twain — this is our due. 
 
 Admetus 
 Have thy desire — one life outlasting Zeus. 
 
 Pheres 
 Dost curse thy parents, who hast had no wrong? 
 
 Admetus 
 Ay, whom I marked love-sick for dateless life. 
 
 Pheres 
 What? — art not burying her in thine own stead? 
 
 Admetus 
 This taunt strikes thee — 'tis thou wast loth to die. 
 
 Pheres 
 Sweet is yon sun-god's light, yea, it is sweet. 
 
i6o Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Admetus 
 Yet shalt thou die in ill fame, when thou diest 
 
 Pheres 
 Nought reck I of ill-speaking o'er my grave 
 
 Admetus 
 Ah me ! how full of shamelessness is eld ! 
 
 Pheres 
 Not shameless she, — but senseless hast thou found her 
 
 Admetus 
 Begone: leave me to bury this my dead. 
 
 Pheres 
 I go: her murderer will bury her. 
 Thou shalt yet answer for it to her kin. 
 Surely Akastus is no more a man. 
 If he of thee claim not his sister's blood. 
 
 (Exit Pheres.) 
 Admetus 
 Childless grow old, as ye deserve, while lives 
 Your child: ye shall not come beneath one roof 
 With me. If need were to renounce by heralds 
 Thy fatherhood, I had renounced it now. 
 Let us — for we must bear the present ill — 
 Pass on, to lay our dead upon the pyre. 
 
 Chorus 
 Alas for the loving and daring! 
 Farewell to the noblest and best! 
 May Hermes conduct thee down-faring 
 Kindly, and Hades to rest 
 Receive thee ! If any atonement 
 For ills even there may betide 
 To the good, O thine be enthronement 
 By Hades' bride! 
 
 (Exeunt omnes in funeral procession.) 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis i6i 
 
 {Enter Servant.) 
 
 Servant 
 Full many a guest, from many a land which came 
 Unto Admetus' dwelling, have I known. 
 Have set before them meat : but never guest 
 More pestilent received I to this hearth: 
 Who first, albeit he saw my master mourning, 
 Entered, and passed the threshold unashamed; 
 Then, nowise courteously received the fare 
 Found with us, though our woeful plight he knew. 
 But, what we brought not, hectoring bade us bring. 
 The ivy cup uplifts he in his hands. 
 Dissonant-howling. Diverse strains were heard: 
 For he sang on, regardless all of ills 
 Darkening Admetus' house; we servants wept 
 Our mistress: yet we showed not to the guest 
 Eyes tear-bedewed, for so Admetus bade. 
 She from the house hath passed: I followed not. 
 Nor stretched the hand, nor wailed unto my mistress 
 Farewell, who was to me and all the household 
 A mother, for from ills untold she saved us, 
 Assuaging her lord's wrath. Do I not well 
 To loathe this guest, intruder on our griefs? 
 
 {Enter Heracles.) 
 
 Heracles 
 Ho, fellow, why this solemn brooding look? 
 Thou, seeing here in presence thy lord's friend. 
 With visage sour and cloud of knitted brows 
 Receiv'st him, fretting o'er an alien grief. 
 Hither to me, that wiser thou may'st grow. 
 The lot of man — its nature knowest thou? 
 I trow not : how shouldst thou? Give ear to me. 
 From all mankind the debt of death is due, 
 Nor of all mortals is there one that knows 
 If through the coming morrow he shall live: 
 This hearing then, and learning it from me, 
 
1 6a Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Make merry, drink; the life from day to day 
 Account thine own, all else in fortune's power. 
 Pass through yon doors and quaff the wine with me, 
 Thy brows with garlands bound. 
 What, man! — the mortal must be mortal-minded. 
 So, for your solemn wights of knitted brows, 
 For each and all, — if thou for judge wilt take me, — 
 Life is not truly life, but mere affliction. 
 
 Servant 
 All this we know: but now are we in plight 
 Not meet for laughter and for revelry. 
 
 Heracles 
 The woman dead is alien-born: grieve not 
 Exceeding much. Yet live the household's lords. 
 
 Servant 
 Live, quotha! — know'st thou not the house's ills? 
 
 Heracles 
 Yea, if thy master lied not unto me. 
 
 Servant 
 Go thou in peace: our lord's ills are for us. 
 
 Heracles 
 Grief for a stranger such talk heralds not. 
 
 Servant 
 Else had I not sore vexed beheld thy revelling. 
 
 Heracles 
 How! have I sorry handling of mine hosts? 
 
 Servant 
 Thou cam' St in hour unmeet for welcoming. 
 For grief is on us; and thou see'st shorn hair 
 And vesture of black robes. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 163 
 
 Heracles 
 
 But who hath died? 
 Not of the children one, or grey-haired sire? 
 
 Servant 
 Nay, but Admetus' wife is dead, O guest. 
 
 Heracles 
 How say*st thou? — Ha, even then ye gave me welcome? 
 
 Servant 
 For shame he could not thrust thee from these doors. 
 
 Heracles 
 I felt it, when I saw his tear-drowned eyes. 
 His shaven hair, and face: yet he prevailed. 
 Saying he bare a stranger- friend to burial. 
 I passed this threshold in mine heart's despite. 
 And drank in halls of him that loves the guest. 
 When thus his plight! — And am I revelling 
 With head wreath- decked? — That thou should'st ne'er 
 
 have told. 
 When such affliction lay upon the home ! 
 Where doth he bury her? Where shall I find her? 
 
 Servant 
 By the straight path that leads Larissa-wards 
 Shalt see the hewn-stone tomb without the walls. 
 
 Heracles 
 
 much-enduring heart and soul of mine. 
 Now show what son the Lady of Tiryns bare, 
 Elektryon's child Alkmene, unto Zeus. 
 
 For I must save the woman newly dead. 
 
 And set in this house again. 
 
 And render to Admetus good for good. 
 
 1 go. The sable-vestured King of Corpses, 
 Death, will I watch for, and shall find, I trow. 
 Drinking the death-draught hard beside the tomb. 
 
164 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 And if I lie in wait, and dart from ambush, 
 
 And seize, and with mine arms' coil compass him, 
 
 None is there shall deliver from mine hands 
 
 His straining sides, or e'er he yield his prey. 
 
 Yea, though I miss the quarry, and he come not 
 
 Unto the blood-clot, to the sunless homes 
 
 Down will I fare of Kore and her king,* 
 
 And make demand. I doubt not I shall lead 
 
 Alcestis up, and give to mine host's hands. 
 
 Who to his halls received, nor drave me thence. 
 
 Albeit smitten with affliction sore, 
 
 Who is more guest-fain^ of Thessalians? 
 
 Who in all Hellas? — O, he shall not say 
 
 That one so princely showed a base man kindness. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 Admetus 
 O, how can I tread 
 Thy threshold, fair home? 
 How shelter mine head 
 'Neath thy roof, now the doom 
 Of the God's dice changeth? — ah me, what change upon 
 all things is come ! 
 
 For with torches aflame 
 Of the Pelian pine. 
 And with bird-song I came 
 In that hour divine, 
 Upbearing the hand of a wife — thine hand, O darling mine I 
 
 Followed revellers, raising 
 Acclaim : ever broke 
 From the lips of them praising. 
 Of the dead as they spoke. 
 And of me, how the noble, the children of kings. Love 
 joined 'neath his yoke. 
 
 1 Kore, the Maiden, is a title of Persephone, queen of Hades, and wife of 
 Pluto. 
 
 2 Hospitable. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 165 
 
 But for bridal song 
 Is the wail for the dead, 
 And, for white-robed throng, 
 Black vesture hath led 
 Me to halls where the ghost of delight lieth couched on a 
 desolate bed. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 To the trance of thy bliss 
 Sudden anguish was brought. 
 Never lesson like this 
 To thine heart had been taught : 
 Yet thy life hast thou won, and thy soul hast delivered 
 from death; — is it bought? 
 
 Admetus 
 
 Friends, I account the fortune of my wife 
 Happier than mine, albeit it seems not so. 
 For nought of grief shall touch her any more. 
 And glorious rest she finds from many toils. * 
 But I, unmeet to live, my doom outrun, 
 Shall drag out bitter days: I know it now. 
 The solitude within shall drive me forth. 
 When so I see my wife's couch tenantless. 
 And seats whereon she sat, beneath the roof. 
 All foul the floor; when on my knees my babes 
 Falling shall weep their mother, servants moan 
 The peerless mistress from the mansion lost. 
 All this within; but from the world without 
 Shall bridals of Thessalians chase me ; throngs 
 Where women gossip; for I shall not bear 
 On those companions of my wife to look. 
 And, if a foe I have, thus shall he scoff; 
 **Lo there who basely liveth — dared not die, 
 But whom he wedded gave, a coward's ransom. 
 And 'scaped from Hades. Count ye him a man? 
 He hates his parents, though himself was loth 
 To diel" Such ill report, besides my griefs, 
 
1 66 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Shall mine be. Ah, what profit is to live, 
 
 friends, in evil fame, in evil plight? 
 
 Chorus (Sings.) 
 
 Not as mounds of the dead which have died, so account 
 
 we the tomb of thy bride. 
 But O, let the worship and honour that we render to 
 Gods rest upon her: 
 
 Unto her let the wayfarer pray. 
 
 As he treadeth the pathway that trendeth 
 
 Aside from the highway, and bendeth 
 
 At her shrine, he shall say: 
 
 **Her life for her lord's was given; 
 
 With the Blest now abides she on high. 
 
 Hail, Queen, show us grace from thine heaven ! ' ' 
 
 Even so shall they cry. 
 But lo, Alkmene's son, as seemeth, yonder, 
 Admetus, to thine hearth is journeying. 
 
 {Enter Heracles, leading a woman wholly veiled.) 
 
 Heracles 
 
 Unto a friend behooveth speech outspoken. 
 Thou gavest me guest-welcome in thine home, 
 Making pretence of mourning for a stranger. 
 
 1 wreathed mine head, I spilled unto the Gods 
 Drink-offerings in a stricken house, even thine. 
 
 I blame thee, thus mishandled, yea, I blame thee. 
 Yet nowise is my will to gall thy grief. 
 But wherefore hither turning back I come, 
 This will I tell. Take, guard for me this maid. 
 Prize of hard toil unto mine hands she came: 
 For certain men I found but now arraying 
 An athlete-strife, toil-worthy, for all comers. 
 Whence I have won and bring this victor's meed. 
 But, as I said, this woman be thy care: 
 For no thief's prize, but toil-achieved, I bring her. 
 Yea, one day thou perchance shalt say 'twas well. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 167 
 
 Admetus 
 
 Not flouting thee, nor counting among foes, 
 
 My wife's unhappy fate I hid from thee. 
 
 But this had been but grief uppiled on grief, 
 
 Hadst thou sped hence to be another's guest; 
 
 And mine own ills sufficed me to bewail. 
 
 But, for the woman — if in any wise 
 
 It may be, prince, bid some ThessaHan guard her, 
 
 I pray thee, who hath suffered not as I. 
 
 In Pherae many a friend and host thou hast. 
 
 Awaken not remembrance of my grief. 
 
 I could not, seeing her mine halls within. 
 
 Be tearless: add not hurt unto mine hurt. 
 
 Burdened enough am I by mine affliction. 
 
 Nay, in mine house where should a young maid lodge.? — 
 
 Needs must I take great heed. 
 
 But, woman, thou, 
 
 Whoso thou art, know that thy body's stature 
 
 Is as Alcestis, and thy form as hers. 
 
 Ah me! — lead, for the gods' sake, from my sight 
 
 This woman! — Take not my captivity captive. 
 
 For, as I look on her, methinks I see 
 
 My wife : she stirs mine heart with turmoil : fountains 
 
 Of tears burst from mine eyes. O wretched I! 
 
 Now first I taste this grief's full bitterness. 
 
 Heracles 
 O'ershoot not now the mark, but bear all bravely. 
 
 Ajdmetus 
 Easier to exhort than suffer and be strong. 
 
 Heracles 
 Time shall bring healing: now is thy griei young. 
 
 Admetus 
 Time — time? — O yea, if this thy Time be Death! 
 
1 68 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Heracles 
 I praise thee for that leal thou art to her. 
 
 Admetus 
 Death be my meed, if I betray her dead. 
 
 Heracles 
 Receive this woman now these halls within. 
 
 Admetus 
 
 that in strife thou ne'er hadst won this maid! 
 
 Heracles 
 Yet thy friend's victory is surely thine. 
 
 Admetus 
 Well said: yet let the woman hence depart. 
 
 Heracles 
 Yea — if need be. First look well — need it be? 
 
 Admetus 
 Needs must — save thou wilt else be wroth with me. 
 
 Heracles 
 
 1 too know what I do, insisting thus. 
 
 Admetus 
 Have then thy will: thy pleasure is my pain. 
 
 Heracles 
 Yet one day shalt thou praise me : only yield. 
 
 Admetus 
 {To Attendants.) 
 Lead ye her, if mine halls must needs receive. 
 
 Heracles 
 Not to thy servants* hands will I commit her. 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 169 
 
 Admetus 
 Thou lead her in then, if it seems thee good. 
 
 Heracles 
 Nay, but in thine hands will I place her — thine. 
 
 Admetus 
 I will not touch her! — Open stand my doors, 
 
 Heracles 
 Unto thy right hand only trust I her. 
 
 Admetus 
 
 king, thou forcest me: I will not this! 
 
 Heracles 
 Be strong: stretch forth thine hand and touch thy guest. 
 
 Admetus 
 
 1 stretch it forth, as to a headless Gorgon. 
 
 Heracles 
 Hast her? 
 
 Admetus 
 I have. 
 
 Heracles 
 Yea, guard her. Thou shalt call 
 The child of Zeus one day a noble guest. 
 
 {Raises the veil, and discloses Alcestis.) 
 Look on her, if in aught she seems to thee 
 Like to thy wife. Step forth from grief to Miss. 
 
 Admetus 
 What shall I say? — Gods! — Marvel this unhoped for! 
 My wife do I behold in very sooth, 
 Or doth some god-sent mockery-joy distract me? 
 
lyo Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Heracles 
 Not so; but this thou seest is thy wife. 
 
 Admetus 
 What if this be some phantom from the shades? 
 
 Heracles 
 No ghost-upraiser hast thou ta'en for guest. 
 
 Admetus 
 How? — whom I buried do I see — my wife? 
 
 Heracles 
 Doubt not: yet might 'st thou well mistrust thy fortune. 
 
 Admetus 
 O face, O form of my beloved wife, 
 Past hope I have thee, who ne'er thought to see thee! 
 
 Heracles 
 Thou hast: may no god of thy bhss be jealous. 
 
 Admetus 
 
 scion nobly-born of Zeus most high, 
 Blessings on thee! The Father who begat thee 
 Keep thee! Thou only hast restored my fortunes. 
 How didst thou bring her from the shades to light? 
 
 Heracles 
 
 1 closed in conflict with the Lord of Spirits. 
 
 Admetus 
 Where, say'st thou, didst thou fight this fight with Death? 
 
 Heracles 
 From ambush by the tomb mine hands ensnared him. 
 
 Admetus 
 Now wherefore speechless standeth thus my wife? 
 
Euripides and the Alcestis 171 
 
 Heracles 
 'Tis not vouchsafed thee yet to hear her voice, 
 Ere to the Powers beneath the earth she be 
 Unconsecrated, and the third day come. 
 But lead her in, and, just man as thou art, 
 Henceforth, Admetus, reverence still the guest. 
 Farewell. But I must go, and work the work 
 Set by the king, the son of Sthenelus.* 
 
 Admetus 
 O prosper thou, and come again in peace! 
 For now to happier days than those o'erpast 
 Have we attained. I own me blest indeed. 
 
 Chorus 
 O the works of the Gods — in manifold forms they reveal 
 
 them: 
 Manifold things unhoped-for the Gods to accompHshment 
 
 bring. 
 And the things that we looked for, the Gods deign not to 
 
 fulfill them; 
 And the paths undiscenied of our eyes, the Gods unseal 
 them. 
 
 So fell this marvellous thing. 
 
 {Exeunt omnes.) 
 
 There are many questions that Admetus might still 
 have raised; for example, did Heracles wrest from death 
 the soul or the body of Alcestis? How was the soul able 
 to reenter the body? How were the Fates to be appeased 
 for this second loss, which Death himself had so angrily 
 prophesied in the opening scene? 
 
 Much in the Httle drama is unsatisfying. Despite 
 Professor Moulton's confident and able defense of 
 Admetus, he remains to most readers, even as to him- 
 
 1 Eurystheus, the king whom the hero Heracles must serve. 
 
 ITY 
 
lyji Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 self, ignoble, selfish, unmanly. But Alcestis, at least, 
 has always claimed the love and admiration of mankind. 
 In one of his tenderest sonnets Milton has a vision of his 
 dead wife: 
 
 **Methought I saw my late espoused saint 
 Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave.** 
 
 Even Shakspere, in the **Winter's Tale," has imi- 
 tated freely the return of the dead queen to life. Indeed 
 Euripides, in many of his plays, seems nearer to modern 
 romantic drama than to the austerer Attic classicism in 
 which he was bred. We are glad to remember that both 
 the Brownings hailed as a near and kindred spirit 
 
 "Euripides the human.** 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 Portions of the "Alcestis" are here taken from a brilliant 
 translation of all Euripides* plays, in three volumes, by Way, the 
 choral portions being rendered freely in rhymed measures much 
 influenced by Swinburne. The prose version in the Bohn Library, 
 by Coleridge, is prosaic indeed, but careful and scholarly. The 
 most famous rendering of the "Alcestis" is by Mr. Browning. 
 Together with much interpolated matter, comment, and argument, 
 it is imbedded in his long poem "Balaustion's Adventure." Far 
 more important, and difficult, is Mr. Browning's discussion of 
 Euripides* and Aristophanes' merits in his "Aristophanes' Apol- 
 ogy," which includes a very able and faithful poetical rendering 
 of the Euripidean "Hercules Mad." The present author's first* 
 book, "Three Dramas of Euripides," covered the "Alcestis,** 
 "Medea," and "Hippolytus." The attempt was to give, in un- 
 rhymed English verse, an idea of the Greek rhythm, and to com- 
 bine with the translation such discussion as an intelligent stranger 
 might desire when first invited into the Athenian theatre. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 ARISTOPHANES' CLOUDS 
 Ridicule as a Moral Weapon. 
 
 Comedy developed later than tragedy, about the mid- 
 dle of the fifth century B.C., as another offshoot from the 
 same Dionysiac cult. Quite unlike the mythic themes 
 and artistic remoteness of the ^schylean drama, comedy 
 was up-to-date, homely, grotesque. Though the parts 
 were taken by male actors only, we hear of Athenian 
 ladies, even children, among the auditors of tragedy: but 
 never as present at an Attic comedy. All the decencies 
 were — not so much violated as rather — forgotten in the 
 rollicking festival season of the merry wine-god. Despite 
 frequent prohibitory decrees, the foremost citizens of that 
 turbulent democracy were unmistakably caricatured in the 
 masks, named in the text, put to utter ridicule. States- 
 men all but resistless, Hke Pericles or Cleon, well-beloved 
 tragic poets like Euripides and Agathon, even the reserved 
 Athenian ladies, or the orthodox Olympian gods, were here 
 alike fair game. Provided the world be duly turned topsy- 
 turvy, and a royal banquet of mirth furnished, all was 
 permissible. We have but one of the comic poets, 
 Aristophanes, surviving in a dozen plays, but he has no 
 rival save the creator of Falstaff, of Caliban, of Malvolio: 
 if even he. 
 
 Aristophanes' dramas cannot be fully and faithfully 
 rendered to any modern audience. He is absolutely with- 
 
 173 
 
174 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 out reticence or sense of decency. Yet he often poses, 
 with unmistakable earnestness, as a moralist. That he 
 considered Euripides a harmful innovator, ^schylus the 
 nobler and better dramatist, cannot be questioned. So, 
 too, the famous attack on Socrates seems to have under- 
 lying it something of ethical purpose. 
 
 Through most of the fifth century, and, on lesser scale, 
 again in the fourth, Athens was the poHtical centre of an 
 extended Grecian league or empire. Her citizens were 
 constantly engaged as jurors to try cases for Athenians 
 or aliens. Almost any citizen must some day appear, 
 in his own proper person, as plaintiff or defendant. 
 Hence rhetoric and oratory became a large part of ele- 
 mentary education, and essential for any mercantile or 
 political career. An extremely briUiant and famous group 
 of ''sophists'* appeared from various Greek lands to 
 teach, for money, the art of getting on in the world: of 
 reaching, and holding safely, wealth and official position. 
 Just at this time arose also Socrates, to teach, or rather 
 to seek out and discuss, without pay, the true nature and 
 moral duties of men. Aristophanes could not have been 
 ignorant of the great gulf between the two types of 
 teacher. Yet he seized the familiar name and picturesque 
 mask of the apostle of righteousness, and made him the 
 center of a most laughable parody on the school of ora- 
 tory and business college. 
 
 No less sharply opposed was Socrates, the preacher of 
 practical morality, to the vague and baseless conjectures 
 as to the remoter mysteries of matter, spirit, and creation, 
 that in his day masqueraded as science, or natural phi- 
 losophy. Yet of this school also he is made the chief 1 
 Such is the famous comedy, *'The Clouds." 
 
Aristophanes* Clouds 175 
 
 The play had, and still has, a wonderful vogue. In 
 the ''Apology" it is put prominently among the causes 
 for the indictment and condemnation of Hellas' greatest 
 saint and sage. As such it surely demands a place here. 
 
 We can give only an outline, citing a few passages or 
 scenes entire. Old Strepsiades, a thrifty Athenian citizen, 
 appears first, lying awake in his room. 
 
 CLOUDS 
 
 Strepsiades (Stretching and yawning.) 
 Ah me! Ah me! will this night never end? 
 
 kingly Jove, shall there be no more day? 
 And yet the cock sung out long time ago; 
 
 1 heard him — but my people lie and snore, 
 Snore in defiance, for the rascals know 
 
 It is their privilege in times of war. 
 
 Which with its other plagues brings this upon us. 
 
 That we mayn't rouse these vermin with a cudgel. 
 
 There's my young hopeful too, he sleeps it through, 
 
 Snug under five fat blankets at the least. 
 
 Would I could sleep so sound! But my poor eyes 
 
 Have no sleep in them; what with debts and duns 
 
 And stable-keepers' bills, which this fine spark 
 
 Heaps on my back, I He awake the whilst: 
 
 And what cares he but to coil up his locks. 
 
 Ride, drive his horses, dream of them all night. 
 
 Whilst I, poor devil, may go hang — for now 
 
 The moon in her last quarter wanes apace, 
 
 And my usurious creditors are gaping. 
 
 What ho ! a light ! bring me my tablets, boy. 
 
 That I may set down all, and sum them up. 
 
 Debts, creditors, and interest upon interest. — 
 
 The youth, Pheidippides, presently awakes. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 My father! Why so restless? Who has vex'd you? 
 
176 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Strepsiades 
 The sheriff vexes me; he breaks my rest. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 Peace,, self-tormentor, let me sleep ! 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Sleep on! 
 But take this with you: all these debts of mine 
 Will double on your head; a plague confound 
 That cursed match-maker who drew me in 
 To wed, forsooth, that precious dam of thine. 
 I liv'd at ease in the country, coarsely clad. 
 Rough, free, and full withal as oil and honey 
 And store of stock could fill me, till I took. 
 Clown as I was, this Hmb of the Alcmaeons,* 
 This vain, extravagant, high-blooded dame: 
 Rare bed- fellows and dainty — Were we not? 
 I, smelling of the wine-vat, figs, and fleeces. 
 The produce of my farm, all essence she, 
 Saffron and dainty kisses, paint and washes, 
 A pampered wanton — idle I'll not call her; 
 She took due pains in faith to work my ruin. 
 Which made me tell her, pointing to this cloak, 
 Now threadbare on my shoulders — *'See, good wife, 
 This is your work, in troth you toil too hard ! ' ' 
 
 (The old man makes a bold resolution.) 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Get up! Come hither boy! look out! 
 Yon little wicket, and the hut hard by — 
 Dost see them? 
 
 Pheidippides 
 Clearly. What of that same hut? 
 
 1 a very aristocratic family, from which Pericles sprang. 
 
Aristophanes' Clouds 177 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Why that's the council chamber of all wisdom: 
 There the choice spirits dwell who teach the world 
 That Heaven's great concave is a mighty oven, 
 And men its burning embers; these are they, 
 Who can show pleaders how to twist a cause, 
 So you'll but pay them for it, right or wrong. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 And how do you call them? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Troth, I know not that. 
 But they are men who take a world of pains : 
 Wondrous good men and able. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 Out upon 'em! 
 
 Poor rogues, I know them now; you mean those scabs, 
 Those squalid, barefoot, beggarly impostors, 
 The sect of Socrates and Chaerephon. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Hush! Hush! be still; don't vent such foohsh prattle; 
 But if you'll take my counsel, join their college 
 And quit your riding-school. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 What shall I learn? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 They have a choice of logic; this for justice. 
 That for injustice; learn that latter art, 
 And all these creditors that now beset me. 
 Shall never touch a drachma that I owe them. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 I'll learn of no such masters, nor be made 
 A scarecrow and a may-game for my comrades: 
 I have no zeal for starving. 
 
lyS Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 No, nor I 
 For feasting you and your fine pampered cattle 
 At free cost any longer — Horse and foot 
 To the crows I bequeath you. So be gone! 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 Well, sir, I have an uncle rich and noble; 
 
 Megacles will not let me be unhorsed; 
 
 To him I go; I'll trouble you no longer. (Exit.) 
 
 Strepsiades (Alone.) 
 
 He has thrown me to the ground, but I'll not He there; 
 
 I'll up, and with the permission of the gods. 
 
 Try if I cannot learn these arts myself: 
 
 But being old, sluggish, and dull of wit. 
 
 How am I sure these subtleties won't pose me? 
 
 Well, I'll attempt it; what avails complaint? 
 
 Why don't I knock and enter? 
 
 (The scene changes^ showing the inside of the "Thinking- 
 shop.'') 
 
 Disciple (Half opening the door.) 
 
 Go, hang yourself, and give the crows a dinner — 
 What noisy fellow art thou at the door? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Strepsiades of Cicynna, son of Pheidon. 
 
 Disciple 
 
 Whoe'er thou art, 'fore heaven thou art a fool 
 Not to respect these doors; battering so loud. 
 And kicking with such vengeance, you have marred 
 The ripe conception of my pregnant brain, 
 And brought on a miscarriage. 
 
Aristophanes* Clouds 179 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Oh! the pity! 
 Pardon my ignorance, I am country bred 
 And far afield am come; I pray you tell me 
 What curious thought my luckless din has strangled, 
 Just as your brain was hatching. 
 
 Disciple 
 
 These are things 
 We never speak of but amongst ourselves. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Speak boldly then to me, for I am come 
 To be amongst you, and partake the secrets 
 Of your profound academy. 
 
 Disciple 
 
 Enough! 
 I will impart, but set it down in thought 
 Amongst our mysteries — This is the question. 
 As it was put but now to Chaerephon, 
 By our great master, Socrates, to answer. 
 How many of his own lengths at one spring 
 A flea can leap — for we did see one vault 
 From Chaerephon 's black eyebrow to the head 
 Of the philosopher. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 And how did t'other 
 Contrive to measure this? 
 
 Disciple 
 
 Most accurately: 
 He dipt the insect's feet in melted wax. 
 Which, hardening into sandals as it cooled, 
 Gave him the space by rule infallible. 
 
i8o Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Imperial Jove! what subtlety of thought! 
 
 Why talk we then of Thales?^ Open to me, 
 Open the school and let me see your master: 
 I am on fire to enter — Come, unbar! 
 
 {The door oj the school is unbarred. The Socratic scholars 
 are seen in various grotesque situations and positions. 
 Strepsiades, with signs of astonishment draws back 
 a step or two, then exclaims) 
 
 Oh Hercules, defend me, who are these? 
 What kind of cattle have we here in view? 
 
 Disciple 
 
 Where is the wonder? What do they resemble? 
 Methinks they're like our Spartan prisoners. 
 Captured at Pylos. What are they in search of? 
 Why are their eyes so riveted to the earth? 
 
 Disciple 
 There their researches centre. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Tis for onions 
 They are in quest — Come, lads, give o*er your search; 
 I'll show you what you want, a noble plat. 
 All round and sound — But, soft! what mean those 
 
 gentry. 
 Who dip their heads so low? 
 
 Disciple 
 
 Marry, because. 
 Their studies lead that way: they are now diving 
 To the dark realms of Tartarus and Night. 
 
 1 a famous earlier philosopher. 
 
Aristophanes* Clouds i8i 
 
 Strepsiades 
 But why are all their cruppers mounted up? 
 
 Disciple 
 To practise them in star-gazing, and teach them 
 The proper elevations ; but no more : 
 In, fellow-students, in: if chance the master come 
 And find us here — 
 
 (Addressing himself to some of his jellow-students, 
 who were crowding about the new-comer.) 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Nay, prythee, let them stay, 
 And be of counsel with me in my business. 
 
 Disciple 
 Impossible; they cannot give the time. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Now for the love of Heav'n what have we here? 
 Explain their uses to me. 
 
 Disciple 
 This machine {observing the apparatus.) 
 Is for astronomy 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 And this? 
 
 Disciple 
 
 For geometry. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 As how? 
 
 Disciple 
 For measuring the earth. 
 
1 82 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Indeed! 
 What, by the lot? 
 
 Disciple 
 Nay, faith, sir, by the lump; 
 Ev*n the whole globe at once. 
 Look now, this Hne marks the circumference 
 Of the whole earth, d'ye see — This spot is Athens — 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Athens! go to, I see no courts are sitting; 
 Therefore I can't believe you. 
 
 Disciple 
 
 Nay, in truth, 
 This very tract is Attica. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Where's Lacedaemon? 
 
 Disciple 
 Here, close to Athens. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Ah! how much too close — 
 Prythee, good friends, take that bad neighbor from us. 
 
 Disciple 
 That's not for us to do. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 The worse luck yours! 
 But look! {casting up his eyes.) 
 
 Who's this suspended in a basket? 
 
 (Socrates is discovered.) 
 Disciple (With solemnity.) 
 HIMSELF. The HE. 
 
Aristophanes* Clouds 183 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 The HE? What HE? 
 
 Disciple 
 
 Why, Socrates. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Hah ! Socrates ! — {to the scholar) Make up to him and roar, 
 Bid him come down I roar lustily! 
 
 Disciple 
 
 Not I: 
 Do it yourself; Tve other things to mind. (Exit.) 
 
 Strepsiades 
 •Hoa! Socrates — What hoa! my little Socrates! 
 
 Socrates 
 Mortal, how now! Thou insect of a day. 
 What wouldst thou? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 I would know what thou art doing. 
 
 Socrates 
 I tread in air, contemplating tne sun. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Ah! then I see you're basketed so high, 
 That you look down upon the gods — Good hope. 
 You'll lower a peg on earth. 
 
 Socrates 
 
 Subhme in air. 
 Sublime in thought, I carry my mind with me. 
 Its cogitations all assimilated 
 To the pure atmosphere in which I float. 
 Lower me to earth, and my mind's subtle powers. 
 
184 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Seized by contagious dulness, lose their spirit; 
 For the dry earth drinks up the generous sap, 
 The vegetating vigor of philosophy, 
 And leaves it a mere husk. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 What do you say? 
 Philosophy has sapt your vigor? Fie upon it. 
 But come, my precious fellow, come down quickly, 
 And teach me those fine things I'm here in quest of. 
 
 Socrates 
 And what fine things are they? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 A new receipt 
 For sending off my creditors, and foihng them 
 By the art logical; for you shall know 
 By debts, pawns, pledges, usuries, executions, 
 I am rackt and rent in tatters. 
 
 Socrates 
 
 Why permit it? 
 What strange infatuation seized your senses? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 The horse-consumption, a devouring plague; 
 But so you'll enter me amongst your scholars. 
 And tutor me like them to bilk my creditors, 
 Name your own price, and by the gods I swear 
 I'll pay you to the last drachm. 
 
 Socrates 
 
 By what gods? 
 Answer that first; for your gods are not mine. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 How swear you then! as the Byzantines swear, 
 By their own base iron coin? 
 
Aristophanes* Clouds 185 
 
 Socrates 
 
 Art thou ambitious 
 To be instructed in celestial matters, 
 And taught to know them clearly? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Ay, ay, in faith, 
 So they be to my purpose 
 
 Socrates descends, and straightway prays his gods, 
 the Clouds, to come to aid. As in all Aristophanic plays, 
 mixt with satire and coarsest buffoonery, we have as sweet 
 a strain of imaginative nature poetry as any Greek voice 
 has uttered. 
 
 Socrates 
 Keep silence, then, and listen to a prayer, 
 Which fits the gravity of age to hear — 
 Oh! Air, all-powerful Air, which dost enfold 
 This pendant globe, thou vault of flaming gold. 
 Ye sacred Clouds, who bid the thunder roll. 
 Shine forth, approach, and cheer your suppliant's soul! 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Hold, keep 'em off a while, till I am ready. 
 
 Ah! luckless me, would I had brought my bonnet. 
 
 And so escaped a soaking. 
 
 {Chorus of Clouds. The scene is at the remotest part of the 
 stage. Thunder is heard. A large and shapeless cloud 
 is seen floating in the air, from which the following 
 song is heard.) 
 
 Ascend, ye watery Clouds, on high. 
 Daughters of Ocean, climb the sky, 
 And o'er the mountain's pinecapt brow 
 Towering, your fleecy mantle throw. 
 Thence let us scan the wide-stretched scene, 
 
1 86 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Groves, lawns, and rilling streams between, 
 And stormy Neptune's vast expanse, 
 And grasp all nature at a glance. 
 Now the dark tempest flits away, 
 And lo ! the ghttering orb of day 
 Darts forth his clear ethereal beam. 
 Come let us snatch the joyous gleam. 
 
 (Strepsiades makes a comment too vulgar for trans- 
 lation.) 
 
 Socrates 
 
 Forbear 
 These gross scurrilities, for low buffoons 
 And mountebanks more fitting. Hush! be still, 
 List to the chorus of their heavenly voices. 
 For music is the language they delight in. 
 
 Chorus of Clouds (Approaching nearer.) 
 
 Ye Clouds replete with fruitful showers. 
 Here let us seek Minerva's* towers, 
 The cradle of old Cecrops'^ race. 
 The world's chief ornament and grace; 
 Here mystic fanes and rites divine 
 And lamps in sacred splendor shine; 
 Here the gods dwell in marble domes, 
 Feasted with costly hecatombs, 
 That round their votive statues blaze. 
 Whilst crowded temples ring with praise; 
 And pompous sacrifices here 
 Make holidays throughout the year. 
 And when gay springtime comes again, 
 Bromius^ convokes his sportive train, 
 And pipe and song and choral dance 
 Hail the soft hours as they advance. 
 
 » Pallas Athene, guardian of Athens. 
 'Founder of Athens. 
 8 An epithet of Bacchus. 
 
Aristophanes' Clouds 187 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Now, in the name of Jove, I pray thee tell me 
 Who are these ranting dames that talk in stilts? 
 Of the Amazonian cast no doubt. • 
 
 Socrates 
 
 Not so. 
 No dames, but Clouds celestial, friendly powers 
 To men of sluggish parts; from these we draw 
 Sense, apprehension, volubility. 
 Wit to confute, and cunning to ensnare. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Ay, therefore *twas that my heart leapt within me 
 For very sympathy when first I heard 'em: 
 Now I could prattle shrewdly of first causes, 
 And spin out metaphysic cobwebs finely. 
 And dogmatize most rarely, and dispute 
 And paradox it with the best of you. 
 
 Socrates 
 And didst thou doubt if they were goddesses? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Not I, so help me! only I'd a notion 
 That they were fog, and dew, and dusky vapor. 
 
 Socrates 
 For shame! why, man, these are the nursing mothers 
 Of all our famous sophists, fortune-tellers, 
 Quacks, medicine-mongers, bards bombastical, 
 Chorus-projectors, star interpreters. 
 And wonder-making cheats. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Welcome, ladies ! 
 
 Imperial ladies, welcome! an' it please 
 Your highnesses so far to grace a mortal. 
 Give me a touch of your celestial voices. 
 
1 88 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Chorus 
 Hail, grandsire ! who at this late hour of life 
 Wouldst go to school for cunning; and all hail, 
 Thou prince pontifical of quirks and quibbles,* 
 Speak thy full mind, make known thy wants and wishes ! 
 Thee and our worthy Prodicus^ excepted. 
 Not one of all your sophists have our ear; 
 Him for his wit and learning we esteem. 
 Thee for thy proud deportment and high looks, 
 In barefoot beggary strutting up and down. 
 Content to suffer mockery for our sake, 
 And carry a grave face whilst others laugh. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Oh ! Mother Earth, was ever voice like this, 
 So reverend, so portentous, so divine! 
 
 Socrates 
 These are your only deities, all else 
 I flout at. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Hold! Olympian Jupiter — 
 Is he no god? 
 
 Socrates 
 What Jupiter? What god? 
 Prythee no more — away with him at once! 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Sayst thou? who gives us rain? answer me that. 
 
 Socrates 
 These give us rain; as I will straight demonstrate: 
 Come on now — When did you e'er see it rain 
 Without a cloud? If Jupiter gives rain. 
 Let him rain down his favors in the sunshine, 
 Nor ask the clouds to help him. 
 
 iThis, of course, to Socrates. 
 2 A famous Sophist. 
 
Aristophanes* Clouds 189 
 
 Strepsiades 
 You have hit it. 
 *Tis so; heaven help me: 
 But hear ye me, who thunders, tell me that; 
 For then it is I tremble. 
 
 Socrates 
 
 These then thunder. 
 When they are tumbled. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 How, blasphemer how.? 
 
 Socrates 
 When they are charged with vapors full to the bursting. 
 And bandied to and fro against each other. 
 Then with the shock they burst and crack amain. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 And who is he that jowls them thus together 
 But Jove himself? 
 
 Socrates 
 Jove ! 'tis not Jove that does it, 
 But the setherial Vortex. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 What is he? 
 I never heard of him; is he not Jove? 
 Or is Jove put aside, and Vortex crowned 
 King of Olympus in his state and place? 
 
 ****** 
 
 Socrates 
 *Tis well, so you will ratify your faith 
 In these our deities— CHAOS, and CLOUDS 
 And SPEECH— to these and only these adhere. 
 
190 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Strepsiades 
 If from this hour henceforth I ever waste 
 A single thought on any other gods, 
 Or give them sacrifice, Ubation, incense. 
 Nay, even common courtesy, renounce me. 
 
 Chorus 
 Speak your wish boldly then, so shall you prosper 
 As you obey and worship us, and study 
 The wholesome art of thriving. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Gracious ladies, 
 
 I ask no mighty favor, simply this — 
 Let me but distance every tongue in Greece, 
 And run 'em out of sight a hundred lengths. 
 
 Chorus 
 Is that all? There we are your friends to serve you; 
 We will endow thee with such powers of speech, 
 As henceforth not a demagogue in Athens 
 Shall spout such popular harangues as thou shalt. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 A fig for powers of spouting! give me powers 
 Of nonsuiting my creditors. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 A trifle — 
 Granted as soon as asked; only be bold, 
 And show yourself obedient to your teachers. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 With your help so I will, being undone, 
 Stript of my pelf by these high-blooded cattle, 
 And a fine dame, the torment of my life. 
 Now let them work their wicked will upon me; 
 They're welcome to my carcass; let 'em claw it. 
 Starve it with thirst and hunger, fry it, freeze it, 
 
Aristophanes* Clouds 191 
 
 Nay, flay the very skin off; 'tis their own; 
 
 So that I may but rob my creditors, 
 
 Let the world talk; I care not though it call me 
 
 A bold-faced, loud-tongued, over-bearing bully; 
 
 A shameless, vile, prevaricating cheat; 
 
 A tricking, quibbling, double-dealing knave; 
 
 A prating, pettifogging limb o' the law; 
 
 A sly old fox, a perjurer, a hang-dog. 
 
 Chorus 
 This fellow hath a prompt and daring spirit. 
 
 Despite this brave beginning, Strepsiades turns out to 
 be a hopeless dunce, even at the arts of cheating. The 
 Clouds advise him, if he has an apt and docile son, to 
 send him instead to the Socratic school. So Pheidippides 
 reluctantly permits himself to be dragged to the door. 
 
 In a long scene. Just and Unjust Argument, or as we 
 say, the Worse and Better Reason, appear as opponents. 
 With unusual seriousness, the good old ways of Athens 
 are eulogized. 
 
 DicoLOGOS. (Better Reason.) 
 .... That good time. 
 Which I have seen, when discipline prevailed, 
 And modesty was sanctioned by the laws! 
 No babbling then was suffered in our schools, — 
 The scholar's test was silence. The whole group 
 In orderly procession sallied forth 
 Right onwards, without straggling, to attend 
 Their teacher in harmonics; though the snow 
 Fell on them thick as meal, the hardy brood 
 Breasted the storm uncloaked; their harps were strung 
 Not to ignoble strains, for they were taught 
 A loftier key, whether to chant the name 
 Of Pallas, terrible amidst the blaze 
 Of cities overthrown, or wide and far 
 
t^l Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 To spread, as custom was, the echoing peal. 
 There let no low buffoon intrude his tricks. 
 Woe to his back that so was found offending, 
 Hard stripes and heavy would reform his taste. 
 Decent and chaste their postures in the school 
 Of their gymnastic exercises. 
 Hot herbs, the old man's diet, were prescribed; 
 No radish, anise, parsley, decked their board ; 
 No rioting, no reveling was there 
 At feast or frolic. 
 
 Adicologos (Worser Reason.) 
 
 Why these are maxims obsolete and stale; 
 Worm-eaten rules. 
 
 DiCOLOGOS 
 
 Yet so were trained the heroes that imbrued 
 The field of Marathon with hostile blood; 
 This discipline it was that braced their nerves 
 And fitted them for conquest. 
 
 Even the Chorus sings: 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Oh! sage instructor, how sublime 
 These maxims of the former time! 
 How sweet this unpolluted stream 
 Of eloquence, how pure the theme! 
 Thrice happy they whose lot was cast 
 Among the generation past 
 When virtuous morals were displayed 
 And these grave institutes obeyed. 
 
 Yet the Devil's Advocate proves triumphantly that 
 these are all hopelessly antiquated notions. 
 
 Adicologos 
 What would you say if here I can confute you? 
 
Aristophanes' Clouds 193 
 
 DiCOLOGOS 
 
 Nothing — my silence shall confess your triumph. 
 
 Adicologos 
 Come on then — answer me to what I ask. 
 Our advocates — what are they? 
 
 DiCOLOGOS 
 
 Vulgar debauchees. 
 
 Adicologos 
 Our tragic poets — what are they? 
 
 DiCOLOGOS 
 
 The same. 
 
 Adicologos 
 Good, very good! — our demagogues — 
 
 DiCOLOGOS 
 
 No better. 
 
 Adicologos 
 See there ! discern you not that you are foiled? 
 Cast your eyes round this company.^ 
 
 DiCOLOGOS 
 
 I do. 
 
 Adicologos 
 And what do you discover? 
 
 DiCOLOGOS 
 
 Numerous birds 
 Of the same filthy feather, so Heaven help me! 
 This man I mark; and this, and this fine fop 
 With his curled locks — To all these I can swear. 
 
 Adicologos 
 What say you then? 
 
 iThe audience. 
 
194 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 DiCOLOGOS 
 
 I say I am confuted — 
 Here, wagtails, catch my cloak — I'll be amongst you. 
 
 Socrates {To Strepsiades.) 
 Now, friend, what say you? who shall school your son? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 School him and scourge him! take him to yourself. 
 And mind you whet him to an edge on both sides. 
 This for slight skirmish, that for stronger work. 
 
 - Socrates 
 Doubt not, we'll finish him to your content 
 A perfect sophist. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 Perfect skin and bone — 
 That I can well believe. 
 
 Socrates 
 
 No more — Away! 
 
 (Strepsiades retires.) 
 
 Pheidippides 
 {To his father, as he follows Socrates into the house.) 
 Trust me, you've made a rod for your own back. 
 
 Pheidippides on his return fulfills this parting prophecy. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Hoa there! What hoa! For pity's sake some help! 
 Friends, kinsmen, countrymen, turn out and help! 
 Oh! my poor head, my cheeks are bruised to jelly — 
 Help, by all means! — Why, thou ungracious cub 
 Thy father wouldst thou beat? 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 Assuredly. 
 
Aristophanes' Clouds 195 
 
 Strepsiades 
 There ! he owns that he would beat his father. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 I own it, good my father. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Parricide! Impious assassin! sacrilegious wretch! 
 
 Pheidippides 
 All, all, and more — You cannot please me better; 
 I glory in these attributes. Go on! 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Monster of turpitude ! 
 
 Pheidippides 
 Crown me with roses! 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Wretch, will you strike your parent.? 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 Piously, 
 And will maintain the right by which I do it. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 O shameless villain! can there be a right 
 Against all nature so to treat a father? 
 
 Pheidippides 
 That I shall soon make clear to your conviction. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 You, you convince me? 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 With the greatest ease: 
 And I can work the proof two several ways; 
 Therefore make choice between them. 
 
196 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Strepsiades 
 What do you mean? 
 
 PHEIDrPPIDES 
 
 I mean to say we argue up or down- 
 Take which you hke, it comes to the same end. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Ay, and a precious end you've brought it to. 
 If all my care of you must end in this, 
 That I have put you in the way to beat me, 
 (Which is a thing unnatural and profane) 
 And after justify it. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 That I'll do 
 By process clear and categorical. 
 That you shall fairly own yourself a convert 
 To a most wholesome cudgeling. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Come on! 
 Give me your arguments — but spare your blows. 
 What reason, graceless cub, will bear you out 
 For beating me, who in your baby age 
 Caressed you, dandled you upon my knee. 
 Watched every motion, humored all your wants? 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 Now then, I ask you, gathering up my thread 
 Where it was broken off, if you, my father, 
 When I was but a stripling, spared my back? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 No, for I studied all things for your good, 
 And therefore I corrected you. 
 
Aristophanes* Clouds 197 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 Agreed, 
 I also am like studious of your good, 
 And therefore I most lovingly correct you; 
 If beating be a proof of love, you have it 
 Plenteous in measure, for by what exemption 
 Is your most sacred carcass freed from stripes 
 And mine made subject to them? Am not I 
 Free-born as you? Say, if the son's in tears, 
 Should not the father weep? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 By what one rule 
 Of equity? 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 What equity were that 
 If none but children were to be chastised? 
 And grant they were, the proverb's in your teeth 
 Which says old age is but a second childhood. 
 Again, if tears are seen to follow blows, 
 Ought not old men to expiate faults with tears 
 Rather than children, who have more to plead 
 In favor of their failings? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Where's the law 
 That warrants such proceeding? There's none such. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 And what was your law-maker but a man. 
 Mortal as you and I are? And tho' time 
 Has sanctified his statutes, may not I 
 Take up the cause of youth, as he of age, 
 And publish a new ordinance for leave 
 By the right-filial to correct our fathers? 
 
198 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Cease then from beating me; 
 Else you preclude yourself. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 As how preclude? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Because the right I have of beating you 
 Will be your right in time over your son 
 When you shall have one. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 But if I have none, 
 All my sad hours are lost, and you die laughing. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 There's no denying that. — How say you, sirs? 
 Methinks there is good matter in this plea; 
 And as for us old sinners, truth to say, 
 If we deserve a beating we must get it. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 Hear me, — there's more to come — 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Then I am lost. 
 For I can bear no more. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 Oh, fear it not. 
 Rather believe what I have now to tell you 
 Will cause you to make light of what is past, 
 'Twill bring such comfort to you. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Let me have it: 
 Jf it be comfort, give it me. 
 
Aristophanes* Clouds 199 
 
 Pheidippides 
 
 Then know, 
 Henceforth I am resolved to beat my mother 
 As I have beaten you. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 How say you? How? 
 Why this were to outdo all you have done. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 But what if I have got a proof in petto ^ 
 To show the moral uses of this beating? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 Show me a proof that you have hanged yourself, 
 And with your tutor Socrates beside you 
 Gone to the devil together in a string. 
 Nay, nay, but rather dread avenging Jove, 
 God of our ancestors, and him revere. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 You're mad, methinks, to talk to me of Jove — 
 Is there a god so called? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 There is! there is! 
 
 Pheidippides 
 There is no Jupiter, I tell you so; 
 Vortex has whirled him from his throne, and reigns 
 By right of conquest in the Thunderer's place. 
 
 Strepsiades 
 'Tis false, no Vortex reigns but in my brain. 
 
 Pheidippides 
 Laugh at your own dull joke, and be a fool! {Exit.) 
 
 1 Within one's own breast, 
 
200 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Strepsiades (Striking his breast.) 
 Insufferable blockhead that I was; 
 What ailed me thus to court this Socrates, 
 Even to the exclusion of the immortal gods? 
 
 Mercury, forgive me; be not angry. 
 Dear tutelary god, but spare me still, 
 And cast a pitying eye upon my follies. 
 For I have been intemperate of tongue. 
 And dearly rue it — Oh, my better genius, 
 Inspire me with thy counsel how to act. 
 Whether by legal process to assail them. 
 
 Or by such apter means as thou mayst dictate. 
 
 1 have it! Well hast thou inspired the thought; 
 Hence with the lazy law; thou art not for it. 
 With fire and faggot I will fall upon them. 
 And send their school in jumo^ to the Clouds. 
 
 Hoa, Xanthias {calling to one oj his slaves) hoa, bring forth 
 
 without delay 
 Your ladder and your mattock, mount the roof. 
 Break up the rafters, whelm the house upon them. 
 And bury the whole hive beneath the ruins. 
 
 (Xanthias mounts the roof and begins working with his 
 
 mattock.) 
 Haste I if you love me, haste! Oh, for a torch, 
 A blazing torch, new-lighted, to set fire 
 To the infernal edifice. — I warrant me 
 ril soon unhouse the rascals, that now carry 
 Their heads so high, and roll them in the dust. 
 
 {One oj the scholars comes out.) 
 
 Disciple 
 Woe ! Mischief ! Misery ! 
 
 Strepsiades. {Mounts the roof and fixes a torch to one of 
 
 the joists.) 
 Torch, play your part : 
 And we shall muster up a conflagration. 
 
 1 In smoke. 
 
Aristophanes* Clouds 201 
 
 Disciple 
 What are you doing, fellow? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Chopping logic ! 
 Arguing a knotty point with your housebeams. 
 
 Disciple 
 Undone, and ruined — ! 
 
 Strepsiades 
 
 Heartily I wish it — 
 And mean you should be so if this same mattock 
 Does not deceive my hope, and I escape 
 With a whole neck. 
 
 (Socrates comes forth.) 
 
 Socrates 
 
 Hoa there ! What man is that? 
 You there, upon the roof — what are you doing? 
 
 Strepsiades 
 ** Treading on air — contemplating the sun!" 
 
 With this merciless repetition of Socrates' first words 
 to him, Strepsiades must have ** brought down the house.'* 
 Literally, at any rate, he does so, and the conflagration of 
 the Thinking-shop makes a spectacular close for the play. 
 
 That this drama contributed to the condemnation of 
 Socrates years later is by no means hard to believe. Cer- 
 tainly both Plato, in the *' Apology," and Xenophon, in 
 numerous passages of the ** Recollection of Socrates," 
 endeavored to meet and refute prejudices and calumnies 
 which can have had no other source. 
 
202 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 The most famous translations from Aristophanes are John 
 Hookham Frere's versions of the "Acharnians," "Birds," 
 "Knights," and "Frogs." They are most ingeniously rhymed, 
 of course far from literal, and necessarily much expurgated. 
 Kennedy's "Birds" is also clever. J. B. Rogers has prepared a 
 complete translation of all the eleven comedies, and is publishing 
 them successively in sumptuous volumes. The version here used, 
 in part, appeared among T. Mitchell's selected versions, in a small 
 volume of the British Poets in 1822, but the "Clouds" was actu- 
 ally translated by "the late Mr. Cumberland." 
 
 The best and frankest discussion of Aristophanes is in 
 Symonds' "Greek Poets." Professor Shorey has an excellent 
 short paper, with original translations, in the Warner Library. 
 The entrance song of the "Clouds" is universally admired. A 
 special translation of the passage by Oscar Wilde will be found in 
 Appleton's "Greek Poets," and another by Andrew Lang in 
 Professor Capp's well-packed volume, entitled "From Homer to 
 Theocritus." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 HERODOTUS 
 
 The Battle of Salamis. 
 
 The first great prose writer of Greece has Uttle like- 
 ness to any modern historian. His volume shows the 
 influence of both epic and tragic poetry. He is no student 
 of original documents, but the prince of story-tellers. 
 He sets forth the popular traditions, as to glorious exploits 
 in the nation's past, and adds freely his own imaginative 
 embroidery. Though well aware of the merits in the cul- 
 ture of Oriental peoples, he has a large and enthusiastic 
 pride in his own Greek race. 
 
 The repulse of Xerxes' great invasion was a splendid 
 and successful struggle for Greek freedom. Indirectly 
 that contest was ours no less, since our Hfe is so largely 
 Greek in form and spirit. No historical author ever had 
 a nobler and fitter theme. 
 
 The story culminates in the account of the battle at 
 Salamis (480 B.C.). The Spartan king Leonidas had 
 perished, with all his men, in the pass at Thermopylae. 
 Athens was captured and sacked. The Persian host, the 
 largest army that ever assembled, was pouring on toward 
 the Peloponnese. The Greek fleet, after one or two suc- 
 cessful skirmishes, had retreated along the coast, to the 
 little bay between the island of Salamis and the Attic 
 mainland. The commanders from the various cities were 
 panic-stricken, and preparing to flee each to his home, 
 
 ?03 
 
204 Ideals In Greek Literature 
 
 That meant prompt and easy enslavement of all Greeks 
 by Xerxes. 
 
 Then the Athenian Themistocles, who alone had fore- 
 seen the war, and insisted on the equipment of the fleet, 
 by a desperate trick forced the unwilling Greeks to turn and 
 fight. Thus in a single day Athens became the leader of 
 maritime Hellas. Of the four hundred Greek ships that 
 here defeated thrice their number, the Athenians had 
 manned more than half. 
 
 A series of extracts will give at least a vivid glimpse 
 of the scene. 
 
 In the council of sea-captains Themistocles addresses 
 the Spartan admiral: the Spartans having insisted on 
 their traditional leadership even on the sea. 
 
 Translation 
 
 **With thee it rests, O Eurybiades, to save Greece, if 
 thou wilt only hearken unto me, and give the enemy 
 battle here, rather than yield to the advice of those among 
 us who would have the fleet withdrawn to the Isthmus. 
 Hear now, I beseech thee, and judge between the two 
 courses. At the Isthmus thou wilt fight in an open sea, 
 which is greatly to our disadvantage, since our ships are 
 heavier and fewer in number than the enemy's; and 
 further, thou wilt in any case lose Salamis, Megara, and 
 Egina,^ even if all the rest goes well with us. The land 
 and sea force of the Persians will advance together; and 
 thy retreat will but draw them toward the Peloponnese, 
 and so bring all Greece into peril. If, on the other hand, 
 thou dost as I advise, these are the advantages which thou 
 wilt secure : in the first place, as we shall fight in a narrow 
 sea with few ships against many, if the war follows the 
 common course we shall gain a great victory; for to fight 
 in a narrow space is favorable to us — in an open sea to 
 
 » Lying between Attica and the Peloponnesus. 
 
Herodotus 205 
 
 them. Again, Salamis will in this case be preserved, 
 where we have placed our wives and children. Nay, that 
 very point by which ye set most store, is secured as much 
 by this course as by the other; for whether we fight here 
 or at the Isthmus we shall equally give battle in defence 
 of the Peloponnese. Assuredly, ye will not do well to 
 draw the Persians upon that region. For if things turn 
 out as I anticipate, and we beat them by sea, then we 
 shall have kept your Isthmus free from th^ barbarians, 
 and they will have advanced no further than Attica, but 
 from thence have fled back in disorder. ' ' 
 
 When Themistocles had thus spoken, Adeimantus the 
 Corinthian again attacked him, and bade him be silent, 
 since he was a man without a city; at the same time he 
 called upon Eurybiades not to put the question at the 
 instance of one who had no country, and urged that 
 Themistocles should show of what state he was an envoy, 
 before he gave voice with the rest. This reproach he 
 made, because the city of Athens had been taken, and 
 was in the hands of the barbarians. Hereupon Themis- 
 tocles spoke many bitter things against Adeimantus and 
 the Corinthians generally; and for proof that he had a 
 country, reminded the captains, that with two hundred 
 ships at his command, all fully manned for battle, he had 
 both city and territory as good as theirs ; since there was 
 no Grecian state which could resist his men if they made 
 a descent. 
 
 (This appeal was at first successful, but next day the 
 panic was renewed.) 
 
 Then Themistocles, when he saw that the Pelopon- 
 nesians would carry the vote against him, went out secretly 
 from the council, and, instructing a certain man what he 
 should say, sent him on board a merchant ship to the fleet 
 of the Medes. This man's name was Sicinnus, and he 
 acted as tutor to Themistocles' sons. 
 
 The ship brought Sicinnus to the Persian fleet, and 
 
2o6 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 there he delivered his message to the leaders in these 
 words : — 
 
 **The Athenian commander has sent me to you privily, 
 without the knowledge of the other Greeks. He is a 
 well-wisher to the King's cause, and would rather success 
 should attend on you than on his countrymen, wherefore 
 he bids me tell you fear has seized the Greeks and they 
 are meditating a hasty flight. Now then, it is open to 
 you to achieve the best work that ever ye wrought, if only 
 ye will hinder their escaping. They no longer agree 
 among themselves, so that they will not now make any 
 resistance — nay, 'tis likely ye may see a fight already 
 begun between such as favor and such as oppose your 
 cause." The messenger, when he had thus expressed 
 himself, departed and was seen no more. 
 
 Then the captain, believing all that the messenger had 
 said, proceeded to land a large body of Persian troops on 
 the islet of Psyttaleia, which lies between Salamis and the 
 mainland; after which, about the hour of midnight, they 
 advanced their western wing toward Salamis, so as to 
 inclose the Greeks. 
 
 Meanwhile, among the captains at Salamis, the strife 
 of words grew fierce. As yet they did not know that they 
 were encompassed, but imagined that the barbarians 
 remained in the same places where they had seen them 
 the day before. 
 
 In the midst of their contention, Aristides, the son of 
 Lysimachus, who had crossed from Egina, arrived in 
 Salamis. He was an Athenian, and had been ostracized 
 by the commonalty; yet I believe, from what I have heard 
 concerning his character, that there was not in all Athens 
 a man so worthy or so just as he. He now came to the 
 council, and, standing outside, called for Themistocles. 
 Now Themistocles was not his friend, but his most deter- 
 mined enemy. However, under the pressure of the great 
 dangers impending, Aristides forgot their feud, and called 
 Themistocles out of the council, since he wished to confer 
 with him. He had heard before his arrival of the impa- 
 
Herodotus 207 
 
 tience of the Peloponnesians to withdraw the fleet to the 
 Isthmus. As soon therefore as Themistocles came forth, 
 Aristides addressed him in these words: — 
 
 *'Our rivalry at all times, and especially at the present 
 season, ought to be a struggle which of us shall most 
 advantage our country. Let me then say to thee, that so 
 far as regards the departure of the Peloponnesians from 
 this place, much talk and little will be found precisely 
 alike. I have seen with my own eyes that which I now 
 report : That however much the Corinthians or Eurybiades 
 himself may wish it, they cannot now retreat; for we are 
 enclosed on every side by the enemy. Go in to them, 
 and make this known. ' ' 
 
 — At the dawn of day all the men-at-arms were assem- 
 bled together, and speeches were made to them, of which 
 the best was that of Themistocles, who throughout contrast- 
 ed what was noble with what was base, and bade them, in 
 all that came within the range of man's nature and con- 
 stitution, always to make choice of the nobler part. 
 Having thus wound up the discourse he told them to go 
 at once on board their ships. 
 
 The fleet had scarce left the land when they were 
 attacked by the barbarians. At once most of the Greeks 
 began to back water, and were about touching the shore, 
 when Ameinias of Pallene, one of the Athenian captains, 
 darted forth in front of the line and charged a ship of the 
 enemy. The two vessels became entangled, and could 
 not separate, whereupon the rest of the fleet came up to 
 help Ameinias, and engaged with the Persians. It is also 
 reported that a phantom in the form of a woman appeared 
 to the Greeks, and, in a voice that was heard from end to 
 end of the fleet cheered them on to the fight; first, how- 
 ever rebuking them, and saying — ** Strange men, how long 
 are ye going to back water." 
 
 Far the greater number of the Persians' ships engaged 
 in this battle were disabled. For as the Greeks fought in 
 order and kept their line, while the barbarians were in 
 confusion, and had no plan in anything that they did, the 
 
2o8 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 issue of the battle could scarce be other than it was. Yet 
 the Persians fought far more bravely here than before, 
 and indeed surpassed themselves; each did his utmost 
 through fear of Xerxes, for each thought that the King's 
 eye was upon himself. 
 
 What part the several nations, whether Greek or bar- 
 barian, took in the combat, I am not able to say for cer- 
 tain. Artemisia,^ however, I know, distinguished herself 
 in such a way as raised her even higher than she stood 
 before in the esteem of the King. For after confusion 
 had spread throughout the whole of the King's fleet, and 
 her ship was closely pursued by an Athenian trireme, she, 
 having no way to fly, since in front of her were a number 
 of friendly vessels, and she was nearest of all the Persians 
 to the enemy, resolved on a measure which in fact proved 
 her safety. Pressed by the Athenian pursuer, she bore 
 straight against one of the ships of her own party, a 
 Calyndian, which had Damasithymus, the Calyndian king 
 himself, on board. I cannot say whether she had any 
 quarrel with the man while the fleet was at the Hellespont, 
 or no — neither can I decide whether she of set purpose 
 attacked his vessel, or whether it merely chanced that the 
 Calyndian ship came in her way — but certain it is, that 
 she bore down upon his vessel and sank it, and that 
 thereby she had the good fortune to procure herself a 
 double advantage. For the commander of the Athenian 
 trireme, when he saw her bear down on one of the enemy's 
 fleet, thought immediately that her vessel was a Greek, 
 or else had deserted from the Persians, and was now 
 fighting on the Greek side; he therefore gave up the chase, 
 and turned away to attack others. 
 
 Thus in the first place she saved her life by the action, 
 and was enabled to get clear off from the battle; while 
 further, it fell out that in the very act of doing the King 
 an injury, she raised herself to a greater height than ever 
 in his esteem. For as Xerxes beheld the fight he remarked, 
 it is said, the destruction of the vessel, whereupon the 
 
 » Queen of Halicarnassus, Herodotus' native city. Though a Persian, a 
 tyrant, and an unscrupulous trickster, she is clearly a favorite of the chronicler. 
 
Herodotus 209 
 
 bystanders observed to him — *'Seest thou, master, how 
 well Artemisia fights, and how she has just sunk a ship 
 of the enemy?" Then Xerxes asked if it were really 
 Artemisia's doing; and they all answered, '* Certainly, for 
 they knew her ensign:" while all made certain that the 
 sunken vessel belonged to the opposite side. Everything, 
 it is said, conspired to prosper the queen — it was espe- 
 cially fortunate for her that none of those on board the 
 Calyndian ship survived to be her accuser. Xerxes, they 
 say, in reply to the remarks made to him, observed — '*My 
 men have behaved like women, my women like men!" 
 
 Of the Greeks there died only a few; for as they were 
 able to swim, all those that were not killed outright by 
 the enemy escaped from the sinking vessels and swam 
 across to Salamis. But on the side of the barbarians 
 more perished by drowning than in any other way, since 
 they did not know how to swim. The great destruction 
 took place when the ships that had been first engaged 
 began to fly, for they who were stationed in the rear, 
 anxious to display their valor before the eyes of the King, 
 made every effort to force their way to the front, and 
 thus became entangled with such of their own vessels as 
 were retreating. 
 
 In this confusion the following event occurred: Cer- 
 tain Phoenicians belonging to the ships which had thus 
 perished appeared before the king, and laid the blame of 
 their loss on the lonians, ^ declaring that they were traitors, 
 and had wilfully destroyed the vessels. But the upshot 
 of this complaint was, that the Ionian captains escaped 
 the death that threatened them, while their Phoenician 
 accusers received death as their reward. For it happened 
 that, exactly as they spoke, a Samothracian^ vessel bore 
 down on an Athenian and sank it, but was attacked and 
 crippled immediately by one of the Eginetan squadron. 
 Now the Samothracians were expert with the javelin, and 
 aimed their weapons so well that they cleared the deck of 
 
 1 Asiatic Greeks, then subject to Xerxes and serving under him. At the 
 close of this war most of them were liberated, and joined the Athenian alliance. 
 2Samothrace, a Greek island, was then subject to Xerxes. 
 
2IO Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 the vessel which had disabled their own, after which they 
 sprang on board, and took it. This saved the lonians. 
 Xerxes, when he saw the exploit, turned fiercely on the 
 Phoenicians, — (he was ready, in his extreme vexation, to 
 find fault with any one) — and ordered their heads to be 
 cut off, in order to prevent them, as he said, from casting 
 the blame of their own misconduct upon braver men. 
 During the whole time of the battle Xerxes sat at the base 
 of the hill called ^galeos,^ over against Salamis; and 
 whenever he saw any of his own captains perform any 
 worthy exploit he inquired concerning him; and the man*s 
 name was taken down by his scribes, together with the 
 name of his father and his city. 
 
 The Athenian captains had received special orders 
 touching the queen; and moreover a reward of ten thou- 
 sand drachmas had been proclaimed for any one who 
 should make her prisoner; since there was great indigna- 
 tion felt that a woman should appear in arms against 
 Athens. However, as I have said, she escaped. 
 
 As soon as the sea-fight was ended, the Greeks drew 
 together to Salamis all the wrecks that were to be found 
 in that quarter, and prepared themselves for another 
 engagement, supposing that the King would renew the 
 fight with the vessels which still remained to him. 
 
 Xerxes, when he saw the extent of his loss, began to 
 be afraid that the Greeks might be counselled by the 
 lonians, or without their advice might determine, to sail 
 straight to the Hellespont and break down the bridges 
 there; in which case he would be blocked up in Europe, 
 and run great risk of perishing. He therefore made up 
 his mind to fly. 
 
 It was of course largely the cowardice of Xerxes that 
 made this brief sea-fight so decisive. He left 300,000 
 picked men to complete the conquest of Greece. These 
 were defeated and utterly destroyed the next summer at 
 Plataea. Never again did a Persian soldier march through 
 
 1 In Attica. 
 
Herodotus 211 
 
 the pass of Thermopylae, never did the sail of a Persian 
 warship darken the waters of the Hellenic peninsula. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 The most exhaustive work on Herodotus in any language is 
 by George Rawlinson, in four volumes. It includes a rather florid 
 translation, comment, and extended essays. The two-volume edi- 
 tion published by Scribner omits the longer excursuses. The 
 translation of Macaulay is much simpler, and nearer to the tone of 
 the original. In the series called Classical Writers, the volume 
 on Herodotus is by James Bryce, and is of much interest. Pro- 
 fessor B. I. Wheeler's essay in the Warner Library discusses 
 especially the travels of the chronicler, and the probable develop- 
 ment of his literary plan. The "Boys' Herodotus," or Church's 
 "Stories from Herodotus," both somewhat expurgated, may be 
 more suitable for immature readers. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THUCYDIDES 
 The Periclean Funeral Oration. 
 
 It is a story oft-repeated, in various forms, that the 
 second great Greek historian was roused to emulation, in 
 boyhood, by hearing Herodotus read in public from his 
 chronicle. But in spirit the twain are very far apart. 
 The marvelous elements, the divine interventions, the 
 oracles, have almost vanished from the scene in which 
 the tragic story of Athens* fatal war against Sparta and 
 the allies is austerely revealed. Human action, and purely 
 human motive, mercilessly laid bare, fill nearly the whole 
 view. 
 
 Yet the feeling for dramatic form is by no means lost. 
 The dreadful defeat in the harbor of Syracuse in this tale, 
 like the sea-fight by Salamis in Herodotus, is the supreme 
 crisis of fate. Doubtless Thucydides intended to complete 
 the record of the war, down to Athens' ignominious fall. 
 But the work as we have it can hardly be called a frag- 
 ment, anymore than the **niad," which only foreshad- 
 ows, not describes, the fall of Troy. 
 
 One trick of both the supreme historians seems to us 
 audacious. In detailed speeches, often quite fictitious, 
 the motives and aims of the leading men and states are 
 vividly set forth. In a few cases the narrator is clearly 
 following the main lines of a speech which he had him- 
 self heard. 
 
 212 
 
Thucydides 213 
 
 Most of all is this probable in the noble memorial ora- 
 tion said to have been delivered by Pericles, the largest 
 minded of Greek statesmen, over the Athenian soldiers 
 slain in the first campaign of the war. It delineates in 
 grand outlines the spirit and policy of the imperial city. 
 In most readers it inspires a strong conviction that Athens 
 was fitted to be, and should have become, the capital of a 
 stronger, more united, and better developed Hellas than 
 selfish conservative Sparta could ever conceive. Just how 
 much of this speech we owe to the statesman, how much 
 to the equally patriotic and large-souled Athenian historian, 
 perhaps the latter himself could not have told. Quite 
 unlike his usual rather cold style is the idealist tone, the 
 glow of pride, with which Athens' right to national leader- 
 ship is here proclaimed. The oration is in certain quahties 
 almost un-Thucydidean, but it is those very traits that 
 make it indispensable in this volume. 
 
 The Funeral Oration 
 During the same winter, in accordance with an old 
 national custom, the funeral of those who first fell in this 
 war was celebrated by the Athenians at the public charge. 
 The ceremony is as follows: Three days before the cele- 
 bration they erect a tent in which the bones of the dead 
 are laid out, and everyone brings to his own dead any 
 offering which he pleases. At the time of the funeral the 
 bodies are placed in chests of cypress wood, which are 
 conveyed on hearses; there is one chest for each tribe. 
 They also carry a single empty litter, decked with a pall, 
 for all whose bodies are missing, and cannot be recovered 
 after the battle. The procession is accompanied by any 
 one who chooses, whether citizen or stranger, and the 
 female relatives of the deceased are present at the place of 
 interment and make lamentation. The public sepulchre is 
 situated in the most beautiful spot outside the walls; there 
 
214 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 they always bury those who fall in war. When the re- 
 mains have been laid in the earth, some man of known 
 ability and high reputation, chosen by the city, delivers a 
 suitable oration over them, after which the people depart. 
 Such is the manner of interment, and the ceremony was 
 repeated from time to time throughout the war. Over 
 those who were the first buried Pericles was chosen to 
 speak. At the fitting moment he advanced from the 
 sepulchre to a lofty stage, which had been erected in 
 order that he might be heard as far as possible by the 
 multitude, and spoke as follows: 
 
 *'l should have preferred that, when men's deeds have 
 been brave, they should be honored in deed only, and with 
 such honor as this public funeral, which you are now wit- 
 nessing. Then the reputation of many would not have 
 been imperilled on the eloquence or want of eloquence of 
 one, and their virtues believed or not as he spoke well or 
 ill. For it is difficult to say neither too little nor too 
 much; and even moderation is apt not to give the impres- 
 sion of truthfulness. However, since our ancestors have 
 set the seal of their approval on the practice, I must obey, 
 and to the utmost of my power shall endeavor to satisfy 
 the wishes and beliefs of all who hear me. 
 
 **I will speak first of our ancestors, for it is right and 
 becoming that now, when we are lamenting the dead, a 
 tribute should be paid to their memory. There has never 
 been a time when they did not inhabit this land, ^ which by 
 their valor they have handed down from generation to 
 generation, and we have received from them a free state. 
 But if they were worthy of praise, still more were our 
 fathers, who added to their inheritance, and after many a 
 struggle transmitted to us their sons this great empire. 
 And we ourselves assembled here to-day, who are most of 
 us still in the vigor of Hfe, have mostly done the work of 
 improvement, and have richly endowed our city with all 
 things, so that she is sufficient for herself both in peace 
 and in war. Of the military exploits by which our vari- 
 
 ^Tbe Athenians prided theipgelves on being autochthonous; sprung froqa 
 tbe soil. 
 
Thucydides 215 
 
 ous possessions were acquired, or the energy with which 
 we or our fathers drove back the tide of war, Hellenic or 
 Barbarian, I will not speak; for the tale would be long 
 and is familiar to you. But before I praise the dead I 
 should like to point out by what principles we rose to 
 power, and under what institutions or through what man- 
 ner of life our empire became great. For I conceive that 
 such thoughts are not unsuited to the occasion, and that 
 this numerous assembly of citizens and strangers may 
 profitably Hsten to them. 
 
 *'Our form of government does not enter into rivalry 
 with the institutions of others. We do not copy our 
 neighbors, but are an example to them. It is true that 
 we are called a democracy, for the administration is in the 
 hands of the many, and not of the few. But while the 
 law secures equal justice for all alike in their private dis- 
 putes, the claim of excellence is also recognized; and 
 when a citizen is in any way distinguished, he is preferred 
 to the public service, not as a matter of privilege, but as 
 a reward of merit. Neither is poverty a bar, but a man 
 may benefit his country whatever be the obscurity of his 
 position. There is no exclusiveness in our public life, and 
 in our private intercourse we are not suspicious of one 
 another, nor angry with our neighbor if he does what he 
 likes; we do not put on sour looks at him which, though 
 harmless, are unpleasant. While we are thus uncon- 
 strained in our private intercourse, a spirit of reverence 
 pervades our public acts; we are prevented from doing 
 wrong by respect for authority and for the laws, having 
 especial regard to those which are ordained for the pro- 
 tection of the injured as well as those unwritten laws 
 which bring upon the transgressor of them the reproba- 
 tion of the general sentiment. 
 
 "And we have not forgotten to provide for our weary 
 spirits many relaxations from toil; we have regular games 
 and sacrifices throughout the year; at home the style of 
 our life is refined; and the delight which we daily feel in 
 all these things helps to banish melancholy. Because of 
 
 Cr -HE 
 
 UNlVEHSiTY )i 
 
 OF ' '' 
 
21 6 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 the greatness of our city the fruits of the whole earth jflow 
 in upon us; so that we enjoy the goods of other countries 
 as freely as our own. 
 
 **Then again, our military training is in many ways 
 superior to that of our adversaries. Our city is thrown 
 open to the world, and we never expel a foreigner or pre- 
 vent him from seeing or learning anything of which the 
 secret, if revealed to an enemy might profit him. We do 
 not rely upon management or trickery, but upon our own 
 hearts and hands. And in the matter of education, 
 whereas they are always from early youth undergoing 
 laborious exercises which are to make them brave, we live 
 at ease, and yet are equally ready to face the perils which 
 they face. And here is the proof. The Lacedaemonians 
 come into Attica not by themselves, but with their whole 
 confederacy following; we go alone into a neighbor's 
 country; and although our opponents are fighting for their 
 homes, and we on a foreign soil, we have seldom any 
 difficulty in overcoming them. Our enemies have never 
 yet felt our united strength; the care of a navy divides 
 our attention, and on land we are obliged to send our 
 own citizens everywhere. But they, if they meet and 
 defeat a part of our army, are as proud as if they had 
 routed us all, and when defeated they pretend to have 
 been vanquished by us all. 
 
 '*If then we prefer to meet danger with a light heart 
 but without laborious training, and with a courage which 
 is gained by habit and not enforced by law, are we not 
 greatly the gainers? Since we do not anticipate the pain, 
 although, when the hour comes, we can be as brave as 
 those who never allow themselves to rest; and thus too 
 our city is equally admirable in peace and in war. For 
 we are lovers of the beautiful, yet simple in our tastes, 
 and we cultivate the mind without loss of manliness. 
 Wealth we employ, not for talk and ostentation, but when 
 there is a real use for it. To avow poverty with us is no 
 disgrace; the true disgrace is in doing nothing to avoid it. 
 The Athenian citizen does not neglect the state because 
 
Thucydides 217 
 
 he takes care of his own household; and even those of us 
 who are engaged in business have a very fair idea of poli- 
 tics. We alone regard a man who takes no interest in 
 public affairs, not as harmless, but as a useless character; 
 and if few of us are originators, we are all sound judges 
 of policy. The great impediment to action is, in our 
 opinion, not discussion, but the want of that knowledge 
 which is gained by discussion preparatory to action. For 
 we have a peculiar power of thinking before we act and of 
 acting too, whereas other men are courageous from ignor- 
 ance, but hesitate upon reflection. And they are surely 
 to be esteemed the bravest spirits who, having the clearest 
 sense of both pains and pleasures of life, do not on that 
 account shrink from danger. In doing good, again, we 
 are unlike others; we make our friends by conferring, not 
 by receiving favors. Now he who confers a favor is a 
 firmer friend, because he would fain by kindness keep 
 alive the memory of the obligation; but the recipient is 
 colder in his feelings, because he knows that in requiting 
 another's generosity he will not be winning gratitude, but 
 only paying a debt. We alone do good to our neighbors, 
 not on a calculation of interest, but in the confidence of 
 freedom, and in a frank and fearless spirit. 
 
 *'To sum up, I say that Athens is the school of Hellas, 
 and that the individual Athenian in his own person seems 
 to have the power of adapting himself to the most varied 
 forms of action with the utmost versatility and grace. 
 This is no passing and idle word, but truth and fact; and 
 the assertion is verified by the position to which these 
 qualities have raised the state. For in the hour of trial 
 Athens alone among her contemporaries is superior to the 
 report of her. No enemy who comes against her is indig- 
 nant at the reverses which he sustains at the hands of such 
 a city; no subject complains that his masters are unworthy 
 of him. And we assuredly shall not be without witnesses; 
 there are mighty monuments of our power which shall 
 make us the wonder of this and succeeding ages; we shall 
 not need the praise of Homer nor of any other panegyrist 
 
21 8 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 whose poetry may please for the moment, although his 
 representation of the facts will not bear the light of day. 
 For we have compelled every land and every sea to open 
 a path for our valor, and have everywhere planted eternal 
 memorials of our friendship and of our enmity. Such is 
 the city for whose sake these men nobly fought and died; 
 they could not bear the thought that she might be taken 
 from them; and every one of us who survive should gladly 
 toil in her behalf. 
 
 *'I have dwelt upon the greatness of Athens because I 
 want to show you that we are contending for a higher 
 prize than those who enjoy none of these privileges, and 
 to establish by manifest proof the merit of these men 
 whom I am now commemorating. A death such as theirs 
 has been gives the true measure of a man's worth; it may 
 be the first revelation of his virtues, but at any rate it is 
 their final seal. Even those who come short in other 
 ways may justly plead the valor with which they have 
 fought for their country. On the battle-field their feet 
 stood fast, and in an instant, at the height of their for- 
 tune, they passed away from the scene, not of their fear, 
 but of their glory. 
 
 ''Wherefore I do not now commiserate the parents of 
 the dead who stand here; I would rather comfort them. 
 You know that your hfe has been passed amid manifold 
 vicissitudes; and that they may be deemed fortunate who 
 have gained most honor, whether in an honorable death 
 like theirs, or in an honorable sorrow like yours, and 
 whose days have been so ordered that the term of their 
 happiness is also the term of their life. I know how hard 
 it is to make you feel this, when the good fortune of 
 others will too often remind you of the gladness which 
 once lightened your hearts. And sorrow is felt at the 
 want of those blessings, not which a man never knew, 
 but which were a part of his life before they were taken 
 from him. Some of you are at an age where they may 
 hope to have other children, and they ought to bear their 
 sorrow better; not only will the children who may here- 
 
Thucydides 2 1 9 
 
 after be bom make them forget their own lost ones, but 
 the city will be doubly a gainer. She will not be left 
 desolate, and she will be safer. For a man's counsel can- 
 not have equal weight or worth, when he alone has no 
 children to risk in the general danger. To those of you 
 who have passed their prime I say: 'Congratulate your- 
 selves that you have been happy the greater part of your 
 days ; remember that your life of sorrow will not last long, 
 and be comforted by the glory of those who are gone. 
 For the love of honor alone is always young, and not 
 riches, as some say, but honor is the delight of men when 
 they are old and useless.* 
 
 **To you who are the sons and brothers of the departed, 
 I see that the struggle to emulate them will be an arduous 
 one. For all men praise the dead, and however preemi- 
 nent your virtue may be, hardly will you be thought, I 
 dare not say to equal, but even to approach them. The 
 living have their rivals and detractors, but when a man is 
 out of the way, the honor and good will which he receives 
 is unalloyed. And if I am to speak of womanly virtues 
 to those of you who will henceforth be widows, let me 
 sum them up in one short admonition. To a woman not 
 to show more weakness than is natural to her sex is great 
 glory, and not to be talked about, for good or evil, among 
 men. 
 
 *'I have paid the required tribute, in obedience to the 
 law, making use of such fitting words as I had. The 
 tribute of deeds has been paid in part, for the dead have 
 been honorably interred, and it remains only that the chil- 
 dren should be maintained at the public charge until they 
 are grown up; this is the soHd prize with which, as with 
 a garland, Athens crowns her sons living and dead, after a 
 struggle like theirs. For where the rewards of virtue are 
 the greatest, there the noblest citizens are enlisted in the 
 service of the state. And now, when you have duly 
 lamented every one his own dead, you may depart." 
 
220 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 The translation of Thucydides by Dr. Jowett is very graceful 
 and readable, giving hardly a hint of the ruggedness and com- 
 plexity of the Greek sentences. The British edition of this work 
 contains copious notes and valuable essays. The translation by 
 Dale in the Bohn Classical Library, follows the original much 
 more closely. In Grote's great history the chapters on the Pelo- 
 ponnesian war are largely free translation of Thucydides, who is 
 indeed on most points the sole or original authority for that 
 period. The enthusiastic remarks on Thucydides by a fellow- 
 historian, Lord Macaulay, in his "Letters," are worthy of 
 attention. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE PLATONIC SOCRATES 
 
 An Apostle of Righteousness. 
 
 The most familiar, the homeHest, the most heroic of 
 Greek figures, Socrates still eludes our eager gaze. He 
 left no written word of his own. Some of his external 
 traits we have glimpsed at, through the eyes of hostile 
 criticism, or at least of unscrupulous ridicule. Xenophon 
 has left a volume of ** Recollections,*' apparently faithful 
 reports of oral discussions by one who did not adequately 
 grasp their higher purpose. In Plato, on the other hand, 
 the real Socrates is freely idealized, and is even made to 
 discourse, with learning and eloquence, on the very sub- 
 jects which Xenophon tells us he conscientiously avoided 
 — as, theology, the origin of the universe, etc. Yet, 
 upon the whole, it is this Platonic Socrates that has im- 
 pressed itself upon the imagination of mankind. That it 
 is at least based upon vivid and loving memories of the 
 master cannot be doubted. The dialectic skill, the merci- 
 less probing of pretence and ignorance, the genial humor 
 and homely illustration, are equally clear in Plato and 
 Xenophon. Many a page of the former may be as faith- 
 ful a transcript from a real conversation as any in the 
 latter. To take one of the simplest of all, in the Platonic 
 ''Lysis'* Socrates discourses thus with a beautiful boy in 
 the gymnasium: — 
 
 221 
 
222 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Socrates 
 Lysis, I suppose your father and mother love you very 
 dearly. 
 
 Lysis 
 Very dearly. 
 
 Socrates 
 They would wish you, then, to be as happy as possible. 
 
 Lysis 
 Of course. 
 
 Socrates 
 Do you think a man happy if he is a slave, and cannot 
 do what he wants? 
 
 Lysis 
 No, that indeed I don't. 
 
 Socrates 
 Well, if your father and mother love you, and wish 
 you to become happy, it is clear that they try in every 
 way to make you happy. 
 
 Lysis 
 To be sure they do. 
 
 Socrates 
 They allow you then, I suppose to do what you wish, 
 and never scold you, or hinder you from doing what you 
 want to do. 
 
 Lysis 
 Yes, but they do though, Socrates, and pretty fre- 
 quently too. 
 
 Socrates 
 How? They wish you to be happy, and yet hinder 
 you from doing what you want ! But tell me this : if you 
 wanted to ride on one of your father's chariots, and take 
 the reins during a race, would they not allow you? 
 
The Platonic Socrates 223 
 
 Lysis 
 No, most assuredly they would not. 
 
 Socrates 
 Whom would they then? 
 
 Lysis 
 There is a charioteer paid by my father. 
 
 Socrates 
 
 Paid! Do they allow a paid servant in preference to 
 you to do what he pleases with the horses, and what is 
 more, give him money for so doing? 
 
 Lysis 
 No doubt about it, Socrates. 
 
 Socrates 
 
 Well, but your pair of mules I am sure they let you 
 drive, and even if you wished to take the whip, and whip 
 them, I am sure they would allow you. 
 
 Lysis 
 
 Allow me, would they? 
 
 Socrates 
 
 Would they not? Is there no one allowed to whip 
 them? 
 
 Lysis 
 Of course there is; the mule driver. 
 
 Socrates 
 Is he a slave or free? 
 
 Lysis 
 A slave 
 
224 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Socrates 
 A slave then, it appears, they think of more account 
 than you, their son, and they allow him to do what he 
 pleases, while you they hinder. But come now, when you 
 go home to your mother, she, I am sure, lets you do what 
 you please — that you may be as happy as she can make 
 you — either with her wool or her loom, when she is spin- 
 ning. It cannot be possible that she hinders you from 
 touching her shuttle or her comb, or any other of her 
 spinning implements. 
 
 Lysis (Laughing.) 
 I can assure you, Socrates, she not only hinders me, 
 but would get me a good beating if I did touch them. 
 
 Socrates 
 Beating! You haven't done your father or mother 
 any wrong have you.? 
 
 Lysis 
 Not L 
 
 Socrates 
 Whatever is the reason, then, that they hinder you in 
 this shocking manner from being happy, and doing what 
 you like; and keep you all the day long in bondage to 
 some one or other, — and, in a word, doing hardly any- 
 thing at all you want to do? So that it seems you get no 
 good whatever from your fortune, large as it is, but all 
 have control over it rather than you; nor again from that 
 beautiful person of yours; for it too is under the care and 
 charge of other people, while you, poor Lysis, have con- 
 trol over nothing at all, nor do a single thing which you 
 wish. 
 
 In Xenophon this chat would close at some such point 
 as this, leaving the sting of dissatisfaction in the youth's 
 mind until he craves the master's probe again. In Plato 
 
The Platonic Socrates 225 
 
 it is but an introduction to a labored though indecisive 
 discussion on the origin and definition of Love or Affec- 
 tion. 
 
 The chief account of Socrates' call to his life- mission, 
 and of the spirit in which he followed it, is found in the 
 "Apology," or defense before his judges. This is strictly 
 a dialogue, like all Plato's works, because at one point 
 the accuser, in accordance with Athenian law, has to 
 answer such questions as Socrates puts to him. In the 
 main, however, the ** Apology" is an unbroken and elo- 
 quent appeal : rather to the judgment of aftertime than to 
 the actual jury. 
 
 The Apology 
 
 I have to defend myself, Athenians, first against the 
 old false charges of my old accusers, and then against the 
 later ones of my present accusers. For many men have 
 been accusing me to you, and for very many years, who 
 have not uttered a word of truth; they got hold of most 
 of you when you were children, and they have been most 
 persistent in accusing me with lies, and in trying to per- 
 suade you that there is one Socrates, a wise man, who 
 speculates about the heavens, and who examines into all 
 things that are below the earth, and who can *'Make the 
 worse appear the better reason." And the most un- 
 reasonable thing of all is that commonly I do not even 
 know their names ; I cannot tell you who they are, except 
 in the case of the comic poets. 
 
 Let us begin again, then, and see what is the charge 
 which has given rise to the prejudice against me, which is 
 what Meletus relied on when he drew his indictment. 
 What is the calumny which my enemies have been spread- 
 ing against me. I must assume that they are formally 
 accusing me, and read their indictment. It would run 
 somewhat in this fashion. ** Socrates is an evil-doer, who 
 meddles with inquiries into things beneath the earth, and 
 
226 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 in heaven, and who 'makes the worse appear the better 
 reason/ and who teaches others these same things." 
 That is what they say; and in the comedy of Aristophanes 
 you 'yourselves saw a man called Socrates swinging 
 around in a basket, and saying that he walked the air, and 
 talking a great deal of nonsense about matters of which 
 I understand nothing, either more or less. 
 
 Perhaps some of you may reply: *'But Socrates, what 
 is this pursuit of yours? Whence come these calumnies 
 against you? You must have been engaged in some pur- 
 suit out of the common. All these stories and reports of 
 you would never have gone about if you had not been in 
 some way different from other men. So tell us what 
 your pursuits are that we may not give our verdict in the 
 dark." 
 
 I think that that is a fair question, and I will try to 
 explain to you what it is that has raised these calumnies 
 against me, and given me this name. Listen, then; some 
 of you will think that I am jesting; but I assure you that 
 I will tell you the whole truth. I have gained this name, 
 Athenians, simply by reason of a certain wisdom. Do 
 not interrupt me, Athenians, even if you think that I am 
 speaking arrogantly. What I am going to say is not my 
 own; I will tell you who says it, and he is worthy your 
 credit. I will bring the god of Delphi to be the witness 
 of the fact of my wisdom, and of its nature. 
 
 You remember Chaerephon. From youth upwards he 
 was my comrade. You remember too Chaerephon 's char- 
 acter; how vehement he was in carrying through whatever 
 he took in hand. Once he went to Delphi and ventured 
 to put this question to the oracle, — I entreat you again, 
 my friends, not to cry out, — he asked if there was any 
 man who was wiser than I, and the priestess answered 
 that there was no man. 
 
 When I heard of the oracle, I began to reflect : '* What 
 can the god mean by this dark saying? I know very well 
 that I am not wise, even in the smallest degree. Then 
 what can he mean by saying that I am the wisest of men? 
 
The Platonic Socrates 2127 
 
 It cannot be that he is speaking falsely, for he is a god 
 and cannot lie." And for a long time I was at a loss to 
 understand his meaning; then, very reluctantly, I turned 
 to seek for it in this manner. I went to a man who was 
 reputed to be wise, thinking that there, if anywhere, I 
 should prove the answer wrong, and meaning to point out 
 to the oracle its mistake, and to say, **you said that I was 
 the wisest of men, but this man is wiser than I." So I 
 examined this man — I need not tell you his name, he was 
 a poHtician — but this was the result, Athenians. When 
 I came to converse with him, I saw that though a great 
 many persons, and most of all himself, thought that he 
 was wise, yet he was not wise. And then I tried to prove 
 to him that he was not wise, though he fancied that he 
 was; and by so doing, I made him, and many of the 
 bystanders, my enemies. So when I went away I thought 
 to myself, I am wiser than this man: neither of us prob- 
 ably knows anything that is really good, but he thinks 
 that he has knowledge, when he has not. While I, having 
 no knowledge, do not think that I have. I seem at any 
 rate to be a little wiser than he on this point; I do not 
 think that I know what I do not know. Next I went to 
 another man who was reputed to be still wiser than the 
 last, with exactly the same result. And there again, I 
 made him, and many other men, my enemies. 
 
 Then I went on to one man after another, seeing that 
 I was making enemies every day, which caused me much 
 unhappiness and anxiety: since I still thought I must set 
 the god's command above everything. So I had to go to 
 every man who seemed to possess any knowledge, and 
 search for the meaning of the oracle: and Athenians, I 
 must tell you the truth; verily, by the dog of Egypt,* this 
 was the result of the search which I made at the god's 
 bidding. I found that the men whose reputations for 
 wisdom stood the highest were nearly always the most 
 lacking in it; while others, who were looked down upon 
 as common people, were much better fitted to learn. 
 
 iThe dogheaded god Anubis. Socrates has a humorous fondness for 
 strange oaths. 
 
228 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Now, I must describe to you the wanderings which I 
 undertook, Hke a series of Herculean labors, to make full 
 proof of the oracle. After the politicians, I went to the 
 poets, tragic, dithyrambic, ^ and others, thinking that there 
 I should find myself manifestly more ignorant than they. 
 So I took up the poems, on which I thought that they had 
 spent most pains, and asked them what they meant, — 
 hoping at the same time to learn something from them. I 
 am ashamed to tell you the truth, my friends, but I must 
 say it. Almost any one of the bystanders could have 
 talked about the works of those poets better than the 
 poets themselves. So I soon found that it is not by wis- 
 dom that the poets create their works, but by a certain 
 natural power and inspiration, like soothsayers and proph- 
 ets, who say many fine things, but understand nothing of 
 what they say. The poets seemed to me to be in a simi- 
 lar case. And at the same time, I perceived that, because 
 of their poetry, they thought that they were the wisest of 
 men in other matters, in which they were not. So I went 
 away again, thinking that I had the same advantage over 
 the poets that I had over the politicians. 
 
 Finally I went to the artisans, for I knew very well 
 that I possessed no knowledge at all, worth speaking of, 
 and I was sure that I should find that they knew many 
 fine things. And in that I was not mistaken. They knew 
 what I did not know, and so far they were wiser than I. 
 But, Athenians, it seemed to me that the skilled artisans 
 made the same mistake as the poets. Each of them 
 believed himself to be extremely wise in matters of great 
 importance, because he was skilful in his own art; and 
 this mistake of theirs threw their real wisdom into the 
 shade. So I asked myself, on behalf of the oracle, 
 whether I would choose to remain as I was, without either 
 their wisdom or their ignorance, or to possess both, as 
 they did. And I made answer to myself that it was better 
 to remain as I was. 
 
 By reason of this examination, Athenians, I have made 
 
 i The dithyramb is the special choral song in Bacchus' honor. 
 
The rlatonic Socrates 229 
 
 myself many enemies of a very fierce and bitter kind, who 
 have spread abroad a great many calumnies about me, 
 and people say that I am *'a wise man.'* For the by- 
 standers always think that I am wise myself in any matter 
 wherein I convict another man of ignorance. But, my 
 friends, I believe that only the god is really wise, and that 
 by this oracle he meant that men's wisdom is worth little 
 or nothing. I do not think that he meant that Socrates 
 was wise. He only made use of my name, and took me 
 as an example, as though he would say to men: '*He 
 among you is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that 
 his wisdom is worth nothing at all." 
 
 And so I still go about testing and examining every 
 man whom I think wise, whether he be a citizen or a 
 stranger, as the god has commanded me ; and whenever I 
 find that he is not wise, I point out to him on the part 
 of the god that he is not wise. And I am so busy in this 
 pursuit that I have never had leisure to take any part 
 worth mentioning in public matters, nor to look after my 
 private affairs. I am in very great poverty by reason of 
 my service to the god. 
 
 Perhaps some one will say: '*Are you not ashamed, 
 Socrates, of following pursuits which are very Ukely now 
 to cause your death?" I should answer him with justice, 
 and say: **My friend, if you think that a man of any 
 worth at all ought to reckon the chances of life and death 
 when he acts, or that he ought to think of anything but 
 whether he acts rightly or wrongly, and as a good or bad 
 man would act, you are grievously mistaken. According 
 to you, the demigods who died at Troy would be of no 
 great worth, and among them the son of Thetis,^ who 
 thought nothing of danger when the alternative was dis- 
 grace. For when his mother, a goddess, addressed him, 
 as he was burning to slay Hector, I suppose in this fash- 
 ion: 'My son, if thou avengest the death of thy comrade 
 Patroclus, and slayest Hector, thou wilt die thyself, for 
 **Fate awaits thee straightway after Hector's death," ' he 
 
 1 Achilles. 
 
230 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 heard what she said, but scorned danger and death. He 
 feared much more to Hve a coward and not to avenge his 
 friend. 'Let me punish the evildoer and straightway die,' 
 he said, 'that I may not remain here by the beaked ships, 
 a scorn of men, encumbering the earth.' Do you sup- 
 pose that he ever thought of danger or death? For this, 
 Athenians, I beheve to be the truth. Whatever a man's 
 post is, whether he has been placed in it of his own will, 
 or has been placed in it by his commander, there it is his 
 duty to remain and face the danger, without thinking of 
 death, or of any other thing, except dishonor." 
 
 For to fear death, my friends, is only to think our- 
 selves wise, without being wise: for it is to think that we 
 know what we do not know. For anything that men can 
 tell, death may be the greatest good that can happen to 
 them, but they fear it as if they knew quite well that it 
 was the greatest of evils. And what is this but that 
 shameful ignorance of thinking we know what we do not 
 know? In this matter too, my friends, perhaps I am 
 different from the mass of mankind; and if I were to claim 
 to be at all wiser than others', it would be because I do 
 not think that I have any clear knowledge about the other 
 world, when, in fact, I have none. But I do know very 
 well that it is evil and base to do wrong, and to disobey 
 my superior, whether he be man or god. And I will never 
 do what I know to be evil, and shrink in fear from what, 
 for all that I can tell, may be a good. 
 
 If you were therefore to say to me, ''Socrates, this 
 time we will not listen to Anytus; we will let you go; but 
 on this condition, that you will cease from carrying on 
 this search of yours, and from philosophy; if you are 
 found following these pursuits again you shall die." I 
 say, if you offered to let me go on those terms, I should 
 reply: — "Athenians, I hold you in the highest regard and 
 love, but I will obey the god rather than you ; and as long 
 as I have breath and strength I will not cease from phi- 
 losophy, and from exhorting you, and declaring the truth 
 to every one of you whom I meet, saying, as I am wont. 
 
The Platonic Socrates 231 
 
 *My excellent friend, you who are a citizen of Athens, a 
 city which is very great and very famous for wisdom and 
 power of mind ; are you not ashamed of caring so much 
 for the making of money, and for reputation, and for 
 honor? Will you not think and care about wisdom, and 
 truth, and the perfection of your soul?' " And if he dis- 
 putes my words, and says that he does care about these 
 things, I shall not forthwith release him and go away; I 
 shall question him and cross-examine him and test him, 
 and if I think that he has not virtue, though he says that 
 he has, I shall reproach him for setting the lower value 
 on the higher things, and a higher value on those that are 
 of less account. This I shall do to every one whom I 
 meet, young or old, citizen or stranger; but more espe- 
 cially to the citizens, for they are more nearly akin to me. 
 For I know well, the god has commanded me to do so. 
 
 Socrates was condemned on the charge of having cor- 
 rupted the young, neglected the gods of the city, and 
 introduced strange divinities. The last charge may have 
 been helped out by the absurd worship of the Clouds, 
 Vortex, etc., in the comedy of Aristophanes, but was no 
 doubt chiefly based on Socrates' own allusions to the 
 Daimonion, or divine voice of warning, in his own breast. 
 This companion was very like a Christian conscience. 
 
 The account of Socrates' death occurs in the 
 **Phaedo." The day has been spent in a discussion with 
 his friends, on Immortality, much of which is so abstruse 
 and learned as to be clearly Plato's utterance, and his 
 alone; though the real Socrates may well have spent his 
 last hours in some such fashion. Even the final incidents 
 are, no doubt, much modified from the reality, since he 
 who dies by hemlock is not merely paralyzed, but plunged 
 into violent convulsions. But that is only saying that 
 this heroic death scene is literature, not a mere report of 
 
232 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 facts. The spirit is no less Socratic, though the artist's 
 hand be Plato's. 
 
 The long dialogue closes with a large constructive 
 sketch of the universe, with the location of what we would 
 call Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. After mentioning the 
 final doom of the incurably wicked, and the purifying 
 pains of penitent sinners, Socrates continues: 
 
 Translation 
 
 Those also who are remarkable for having led holy 
 lives are released from this earthly prison, and go to their 
 pure home which is above, and dwell in the purer earth; 
 and those who have duly purified themselves with phi- 
 losophy live henceforth altogether without the body, in 
 mansions fairer far than these, which may not be described, 
 and of which the time would fail me to tell. 
 
 I do not mean to affirm that the description which I 
 have given of the soul and her mansions is exactly true — 
 a man of sense ought hardly to say that. But I do say 
 that, inasmuch as the soul is said to be immortal, he may 
 venture to think, not improperly or unworthily, that some- 
 thing of the kind is true. The venture is a glorious one, 
 and he ought to comfort himself with words like these, 
 which is the reason why I lengthen out this tale. Where- 
 fore, I say, let a man be of good cheer about his soul, who 
 has cast away the pleasures and ornaments of the body as 
 alien to him, and rather hurtful in their effects, and has 
 followed after the pleasures of knowledge in this life; who 
 has adorned the soul in her own proper jewels, which are 
 temperance and justice, and courage, and nobility, and 
 truth — in these arrayed, she is ready to go on her journey 
 to the world below, when her time comes. You, and all 
 other men, will depart at some time or other. Me already, 
 as the tragic poet says, the voice of fate calls. Soon I 
 must drink the poison, and I think that I had better repair 
 to the bath first, in order that the women may not have 
 the trouble of washing my body after I am dead. 
 
The Platonic Socrates 233 
 
 When he had done speaking, Crito said: And have 
 you any commands for us, Socrates, — anything to say 
 about your children, or any other matter in which we can 
 serve you? 
 
 Nothing in particular, he said; only, as I have always 
 told you, I would have you look to yourselves; that is a 
 service which you can always be doing to me and mine as 
 well as to yourselves. 
 
 We will do our best, said Crito. But in what way 
 would you have us bury you? 
 
 In any way that you like; only you must get hold of 
 me, and take care that I do not walk away from you. 
 Then he turned to us, and added with a smile: I cannot 
 make Crito believe that I am the same Socrates who has 
 been talking and conducting the argument ; he fancies that 
 I am the other Socrates whom he will soon see, a dead 
 body^and he asks — How shall he bury me? And though 
 I have spoken many words in the endeavor to show that 
 when I have drunk the poison I shall leave you and go to 
 the joys of the blessed — these words of mine, with which 
 I comforted you and myself, have had, as I perceive, no 
 effect upon Crito. And therefore I want you to be surety 
 for me now, as he was surety for me at the trial; but let 
 the promise be of another sort; for he was my surety to 
 the judges that I would remain, but you must be my surety 
 to him that I shall not remain, but go away and depart; 
 and then he will suffer less at my death, and not be 
 grieved when he sees my body being burned or buried. 
 I would not have him sorrow at my hard lot, or say at the 
 burial. Thus we lay out Socrates, or, Thus we follow him 
 to the grave or bury him, for false words are not only evil 
 in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. Be of 
 good cheer, then, my dear Crito, and say that you are 
 burying my body only, and do with that as is usual, and 
 as you think best. 
 
 When he had spoken these words he arose and went 
 into the bath chamber with Crito, who bade us wait; and 
 we waited, talking and thinking of the subject of discourse, 
 
234 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 and also of the greatness of our sorrow; he was Hke a 
 father of whom we were being bereaved, and we were 
 about to pass the rest of our Hves as orphans. When he 
 had taken the bath his children were brought to him — (he 
 had two young sons and an elder one) ; and the women of 
 his family also came, and he talked to them and gave them 
 a few directions in the presence of Crito; and he then 
 dismissed them and returned to us. 
 
 Now the hour of sunset was near, for a good deal of 
 time had passed while he was within. When he came out 
 he sat down with us again after his bath; but not much 
 was said. Soon the jailer entered and stood by him, say- 
 ing: '*To you, Socrates, whom I know to be the noblest 
 and gentlest and best of all who ever came to this place, 
 I will not impute the angry feelings of other men, who 
 rage and swear at me, when, in obedience to the authori- 
 ties, I bid them drink the poison — indeed I am sure that 
 you will not be angry with me; for others, as you are 
 aware, and not I, are the guilty cause. And so fare you 
 well, and try to bear lightly what needs must be; you know 
 my errand." Then bursting into tears he turned away 
 and went out. 
 
 Socrates looked at him and said: **I return your 
 good wishes, and will do as you bid." Then, turning to 
 us, he said, **How charming the man is: since I have 
 been in prison he has always been coming to see me, and 
 now see how generously he sorrows for me. But we must 
 do as he says, Crito; let the cup be brought, if the poison 
 is prepared; if not let the attendant prepare some." 
 
 ''Yet," said Crito, *'the sun is still upon the hilltops, 
 and many a one has taken the draught late, and after the 
 announcement has been made to him, has eaten and drunk, 
 and indulged in sensual delights; do not hasten, then, 
 there is still time." 
 
 Socrates said: *'Yes, Crito, and they of whom you 
 speak are right in doing this, for they think that they will 
 gain by the delay; but I am right in not doing thus, for 
 I do not think that I should gain anything by drinking the 
 
The Platonic Socrates 235 
 
 poison a little later; I should be sparing and saving a life 
 which is already gone ; I could only laugh at myself for 
 this. Please then do as I say, and not refuse me.'* 
 
 Crito, when he heard this, made a sign to the servant; 
 and the servant went in, and remained for some time, and 
 then returned with the jailer, carrying the cup of poison. 
 Socrates said: **You, my good friend, who are experi- 
 enced in these matters, shall give me directions how I 
 am to proceed." The man answered: ''You have only 
 to walk about until your legs are heavy, and then to lie 
 down, and the poison will act." At the same time he 
 handed the cup to Socrates, who in the easiest and gentlest 
 manner, without the least fear or change of color or fea- 
 ture, looking at the man with all his eyes, as his manner 
 was, took the cup and said: ''What do you say about 
 making a libation out of this cup to any god? May I, or 
 not?" The man answered : "We only prepare, Socrates, 
 just so much as we deem enough." "I understand," he 
 said; "yet I may and must pray to the gods to prosper 
 my journey from this to that other world — may this then, 
 which is my prayer, be granted to me." Then holding 
 the cup to his lips, quite readily and cheerfully he drank 
 off the poison. And hitherto most of us had been able 
 to control our sorrow; but when we saw him drinking, 
 and saw too that he had finished the draught, we could 
 no longer forbear, and in spite of myself my own tears 
 were flowing fast; so that I covered my face and wept 
 over myself, for certainly I was not weeping over him, 
 but at the thought of my own calamity in having lost 
 such a companion. Nor was I the first, for Crito, when 
 he found himself unable to restrain his tears, had got 
 up and moved away, and I followed; and at that moment 
 Apollodorus, who had been weeping all the time, broke out 
 into a loud cry which made cowards of us all. Socrates 
 alone retained his calmness: "What is this strange out- 
 cry?" he said. "I sent the women away mainly that they 
 might not offend in this way, for I have heard that a man 
 should die in peace. Be quiet then, and have patience." 
 
236 Ideals in Greek' Literature 
 
 When we heard that, we were ashamed and refrained 
 our tears; and he walked about until, as he said, his legs 
 began to fail, and then he lay on his back, according to 
 the directions, and the man who gave him the poison now 
 and then looked at his feet and legs, and after a time he 
 pressed his foot hard, and asked him if he could feel ; and 
 he said no ; and then his leg, and so upwards and upwards, 
 and showed us that he was cold and stiff. And he felt 
 them himself, and said: **When the poison reaches the 
 heart, that will be the end." He was beginning to grow 
 cold about the groin when he uncovered his face, for he 
 had covered himself up, and said (they were his last words) 
 — he said: '*Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius; will you 
 remember to pay the debt.?" ''The debt shall be paid," 
 said Crito; "is there anything else?" There was no 
 answer to this question; but in a minute or two a move- 
 ment was heard, and the attendant uncovered him; his 
 eyes were set, and Crito closed his eyes and mouth. 
 
 Such was the end, Echecrates, of our friend, whom I 
 may truly call the wisest, and justest, and best of all the 
 men whom I have ever known. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 Jowett's translation of all Plato's works, in five stately vol- 
 umes, will long remain without a rival in England. It contains 
 also valuable introductions, analyses, etc. Grote's "Plato" and 
 the "Other Companions of Socrates" is a very learned and valu- 
 able work by a somewhat unsympathetic critic. Much less pon- 
 derous than these are two volumes of the Golden Treasury series, 
 one containing the "Republic," the other the four dialogues de- 
 scriptive of Socrates' trial, imprisonment, and death. Even more 
 readable are the little volumes of selections from Plato, published 
 by Scribner, "A Day in Athens with Socrates," "Talks with 
 Athenian Youths," etc. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 DEMOSTHENES ON THE CROWN 
 
 An Ideal oj Civic Patriotism. 
 
 Athens never regained the political supremacy upheld 
 by Pericles in the middle of the fifth century B.C., and 
 lost, at its close, in the Peloponnesian war. (431-404 B.C.) 
 Yet in the central decades of the fourth century she was 
 stronger than any other one of the Hellenic cities, and 
 became the leader of a forlorn hope against the semi- 
 barbarous kingdom of Macedonia. The autocratic power, 
 tireless energy, and unscrupulous craft of King Philip 
 (360-336 B.C.) easily baffled, and finally crushed, the 
 disunited, peace-loving, mercantile cities of the peninsula. 
 Yet the eloquence of Demosthenes, still preserved in a long 
 series of carefully polished speeches, has made him even 
 more famous than his victorious opponent. He utters, in 
 words that glow and thrill even now, the purest patriotism, 
 the most unselfish devotion to duty and honor. 
 
 The details of the long hopeless struggle can no longer 
 be of vital interest to us. Indeed, when Demosthenes* 
 masterpiece, the oration on the Crown, was pronounced, 
 the last hope of freedom had vanished, and Alexander, 
 secure of Hellas* submissiveness, had already begun, with 
 the army which his father Philip had prepared and trained, 
 his amazing career of Asiatic conquest. 
 
 Ctesiphon, a friend of the orator, had proposed that a 
 golden crown, — a customary honor, — be presented to him 
 
 237 
 
138 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 for public services and personal sacrifices. Demosthenes* 
 lifelong enemy and rival ^schines, who had probably 
 accepted bribes from Philip, now impeached the mover for 
 illegal action. Aside from minor technicalities, the chief 
 charge was that the whole career of Demosthenes had 
 injured, not benefited, the Athenian people. So the 
 master, while nominally defending his friend, must actu- 
 ally review in full his own public life. The overwhelming 
 power of Macedon made necessary a certain degree of 
 caution in tone. Even his warmest admirers had to con- 
 fess that Demosthenes' policy had not been finally success- 
 ful. Under these circumstances, the brave words here 
 uttered may be regarded as the last, and also the noblest, 
 Athenian utterance of democratic sentiment. 
 
 Translation 
 
 As I am, it appears, on this day to render an account 
 both of my private life and of my pubhc measures, I would 
 fain, in the outset, call the gods to my aid; and in your 
 presence implore them, first, that the good will which I 
 have ever cherished toward the commonwealth and all of 
 you may be fully requited to me on the present trial ; next, 
 that they may direct you to such a decision upon this 
 indictment, as will conduce to your common honor, and 
 to the good conscience of each individual. 
 
 The conquests which Philip had got and held before I 
 commenced life as a statesman and orator, I shall pass 
 over, as I think they concern not me. Those that he was 
 baffled in from the day of my entering such duties, I will 
 call to your recollection, and render an account of them; 
 premising one thing only — Philip started, men of Athens, 
 with a great advantage. It happened that among the 
 Greeks — not some but all alike — there sprang up a crop 
 of traitors and venal wretches, such as in the memory of 
 man had never been before. These he got for his agents 
 
Demosthenes on the Crown 139 
 
 and supporters: the Greeks, already ill disposed and 
 unfriendly to each other, he brought into a still worse 
 state, deceiving this people, making presents to that, cor- 
 rupting others in every way; and he split them into many 
 parties, when they all had one interest, to prevent his 
 aggrandisement. While the Greeks were all in such a 
 condition, — in ignorance of the gathering and growing 
 mischief — you have to consider, men of Athens, what 
 policy and measures it became the commonwealth to 
 adopt, and of this to receive a reckoning from me; for 
 the man who assumed that post in the administration 
 was I. 
 
 Ought she, ^schines, to have cast off her spirit and 
 dignity, and helped to acquire for Philip the dominion of 
 Greece, and extinguished the honors and rights of our 
 ancestors? Or, if she did not this — which would indeed 
 have been shameful — was it right that what she saw would 
 happen if unprevented, and was for a long time, it seems, 
 aware of, she should suffer to come to pass? 
 
 I would gladly ask the severest censurer of our acts, 
 with what party he would have wished the commonwealth 
 to side, — with those who contributed to the disgraces and 
 disasters of the Greeks, or those who permitted it all for 
 the hope of selfish advantage? But many of them, or 
 rather all, would have fared worse than ourselves. If 
 Philip after his victory had immediately marched off and 
 kept quiet, without molesting any either of his own allies 
 or the Greeks in general, still they that opposed not his 
 enterprises would have merited some blame and reproach. 
 But when he has stripped all alike of their dignity, their 
 authority, their liberty — nay, even of their constitutions, 
 where he was able, — can it be doubted that you took the 
 most glorious course in pursuance of my counsels? 
 
 But I return to the question — What should the com- 
 monwealth, ^schines, have done, when she saw Philip 
 estabhshing an empire and dominion over Greece? Or 
 what was your statesman to advise and move? — I, a 
 statesman at Athens? — for this is most material — I who 
 
240 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 knew that from the earliest time, until the day of my own 
 mounting the platform, our country had ever striven for 
 precedency, and honor, and renown, and had expended 
 more blood and treasure for the sake of glory and the 
 general weal than the rest of Greece had expended on 
 their several interests? who saw that Phihp himself, with 
 whom we were contending, had, in the strife for power 
 and empire, had his eye cut out, his collarbone fractured, 
 his hand and leg mutilated,* and was ready and willing to 
 sacrifice any part of his body that fortune chose to take, 
 provided he could live with the remainder in honor and 
 glory? Hardly will any one venture to say this — that it 
 became a man bred at Pella, then an obscure and incon- 
 siderable place, to possess such an inborn magnanimity, 
 as to aspire to the mastery of Greece, and form the project 
 in his mind, whilst you, who were Athenians, day after 
 day in speeches and in dramas reminded of the virtue of 
 your ancestors, should have been so base, as of your own 
 free will and accord to surrender to Philip the liberty of 
 Greece. No one will say this! 
 
 The only course then that remained was a just resist- 
 ance to all his attacks upon you. Such course you took 
 from the beginning, properly and becomingly; and I 
 assisted by motions and counsels during the period of my 
 political life — I acknowledge it. But what should I have 
 done? I put this question to you, dismissing all else. 
 
 I ask — the man who was appropriating to himself Euboea, 
 and making it a fortress against Attica, and subjugating 
 the Hellespont, and besieging Byzantium, ^ and destroy- 
 ing some of the Greek cities, restoring exiles to others, — 
 was he, by all these proceedings, committing injustice, 
 breaking the truce, violating the peace, or not? Was it 
 meet that any of the Greeks should rise up to prevent 
 these proceedings or not? If no, if Greece should have 
 lain passive and helpless, whilst Athenians had life and 
 being, then I have exceeded my duty in speaking on the 
 
 » Philip, a soldier from boyhood, had been often wounded in battle. 
 2 Later known as Constantinople, and of course always the key to the 
 Black Sea. 
 
Demosthenes on the Crown 241 
 
 subject, the commonwealth has exceeded her duty which 
 followed my counsels, I admit that every measure has 
 been a misdeed, a blunder of mine. But if some one 
 ought to have arisen, to prevent these things, who but 
 the Athenian people should it have been? Such then was 
 the policy which I espoused. 
 
 Hundreds of cases which I could mention . I pass over 
 — sea-fights, land-marches, campaigns, both in ancient 
 times and in your own, all of which the commonwealth 
 has undertaken for the freedom and safety of the Greeks 
 in general. Then, having observed the commonwealth 
 engaging in contests of such number and importance for 
 the interests of others, what was I to urge, what course 
 to recommend her, when the question in a manner con- 
 cerned herself.? — To revive grudges, I suppose, against 
 people who wanted help, and to seek pretences for aban- 
 doning everything. And who might not justly have killed 
 me, had I attempted even by words to tarnish any of the 
 honors of Athens? For the thing itself, I am certain, you 
 would never have done. Had you wished, what was to 
 hinder you? Any lack of opportunity? Had you not 
 these men to advise it? 
 
 Whilst you on these occasions sat mute in the assem- 
 bly, I came forward and spake. However, as you omitted 
 then, tell us now. Say, what scheme that I ought to have 
 devised, what favorable opportunity, was lost to the state 
 by my neglect? What alliance was there, what better 
 plan, to which I should have directed the people? But 
 No! The past is with all the world given up; no one 
 even proposes to deliberate about it: the future it is, or 
 the present, which demands the action of a counsellor. 
 At the time, as it appears, there were dangers impending, 
 and dangers at hand. Mark the line of my policy at that 
 crisis; do not rail at the event. The end of all things is 
 what the Deity pleases: it is his Hne of policy that shows 
 the judgment of the statesman. Do not then impute it 
 as a crime to me, that Philip chanced to conquer in battle : 
 that issue depended not on me but on God. Prove that 
 
242 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 I adopted not all measures that according to human calcu- 
 lation were feasible, that I did not honestly and diligently, 
 and with exertions beyond my strength, carry them out, 
 or that my enterprises were not honorable and worthy of 
 the state, and necessary. Show me this, and accuse me 
 as soon as you like. But if the hurricane that visited us 
 has been too powerful, not for us only, but for all Greece 
 beside, what is the fair course? As if a merchant, after 
 taking every precaution, and furnishing a vessel with 
 everything that he thought would ensure her safety, 
 because afterwards he met with a storm, and his tackle 
 was strained, or broken to pieces, should be charged with 
 the shipwreck! **Well, but I was not the pilot," he 
 might say, just as I was not the general. ** Fortune was 
 not under my control: all was under hers." 
 
 If the future was revealed to you, ^schines, alone, 
 when the state was deliberating on these proceedings, you 
 ought to have forewarned us at the time. If you did not 
 foresee it you are responsible for the same ignorance as 
 the rest. Why then do you accuse me in this rather than 
 I you? A better citizen have I been than you, inasmuch 
 as I gave myself up to what seemed for the general good, 
 not shrinking from any personal danger, nor taking thought 
 of any, whilst you neither suggested better measures, nor 
 lent any aid in the prosecuting of mine. 
 
 But since he insists so strongly on the result, I will 
 even assert something of a paradox: and I beg and pray 
 of you not to marvel at its boldness, but kindly to consider 
 what I say. If then the results had been foreknown to 
 all, if all had foreseen them, and you, ^schines, had fore- 
 told them and protested with clamor and outcry, — you 
 that never opened your mouth — not even then should the 
 Commonwealth have abandoned her designs, if she had 
 any regard for glory, or ancestry, or futurity. As it is, 
 she appears to have failed in her enterprise, a thing to 
 which all mankind are hable, if the Deity so wills it : but 
 then, claiming precedency over others, and afterwards 
 abandoning her pretensions, she would have incurred the 
 
Demosthenes on the Crown 243 
 
 charge of betraying all to Philip. Why, had we resigned 
 without a struggle that which our ancestors encountered 
 every danger to win, who would not have spit upon you? 
 
 With what eyes, I pray, should we have beheld stran- 
 gers visiting the city, if the result had been what it is, and 
 Philip had been chosen leader and lord of all, but other 
 people, without us, had made the struggle to prevent it; 
 especially when in former times our country had never 
 preferred an ignominious security to the battle for honor? 
 For what Grecian or what barbarian is ignorant, that by 
 the Thebans, or by the Lacedaemonians who were in 
 might before them,^ or by the Persian king, permission 
 would thankfully and gladly have been given to our Com- 
 monwealth, to take what she pleased and hold her own, 
 provided she would accept foreign law and let another 
 power command in Greece? But, as it seems, to the 
 Athenians of that day such conduct could not have been 
 national, or natural, or endurable: none could at any 
 period of time persuade the commonwealth to attach her- 
 self in secure subjection to the powerful and unjust: 
 through every age has she persevered in the perilous 
 struggle for precedency and honor and glory. 
 
 And this you esteem so noble, and congenial to your 
 principles, that among your ancestors you honor most 
 those who acted in such a spirit; and with reason. For 
 who would not admire the virtue of those men, who reso- 
 lutely embarked in their galleys, leaving country and home, 
 rather than receive foreign laws, choosing Themistocles 
 who gave such council for their general, and stoning 
 Kyrsilus to death who advised submission to the terms 
 imposed — nor him only, but your wives also stoning his 
 wife? Yes; the Athenians of that day looked not for an 
 orator or a general, who might help them to a pleasant 
 
 1 The Athenians considered themselves 'the leading state oi Greece from 
 the end of the war against Xerxes, 478 B. C, to their decisive defeat by Sparta 
 at the close of the Peloponnesian War. Then Sparta led until the great 
 Theban Epaminondas brought his city into the leadership. After his 'career 
 (371-362 B.C.) Thebes rapidly declined, and Philip's reign (360-336) saw Mace- 
 donia establish herself as complete master of Greece. The decisive victory of 
 Philip, very often alluded to by Demosthenes, was won at Chaeronea, against 
 the united Athenians and Thebans, in 338 B.C. 
 
244 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 servitude: they scorned to live, if it could not be with 
 freedom. For each of them considered, that he was not 
 born to his father or mother only, but also to his country. 
 What is the difference.? He that thinks himself born for 
 his parents only, waits for his appointed or natural end: 
 he that thinks himself born for his country also will sooner 
 perish than behold her in slavery, and will regard the 
 insults and indignities which must be borne in a common- 
 wealth enslaved, as more terrible than death. 
 
 Had I attempted to say, that I instructed you in senti- 
 ments worthy of your ancestors, there is not a man who 
 would not justly rebuke me. What I declare is that such 
 principles are your own; I show that before my time such 
 was the spirit of the commonwealth; though certainly in 
 the execution of the particular measures I claim a share 
 also for myself. The prosecutor, arraigning the whole 
 proceedings, and embittering you against me as the cause 
 of our alarms and dangers, in his eagerness to deprive me 
 of honor for the moment, robs you of the eulogies that 
 should endure forever. For should you, under a disbelief 
 in the wisdom of my policy convict the defendant, you 
 will appear to have done wrong, not to have suffered what 
 befell you by the cruelty of fortune. But never, never 
 can you have done wrong, O Athenians, in undertaking 
 the battle for the freedom and safety of all ! I swear it 
 by your forefathers — those that met the peril at Marathon, 
 those that took the field at Plataea, those in the sea-fight 
 at Salamis, and those at Artemisium,* and many other 
 brave men who repose in the public monuments, all of 
 whom alike, as being worthy of the same honor, the coun- 
 try buried, ^schines, not only the successful or victorious I 
 Justly ! For the duty of brave men had been done by all : 
 their fortune has been such as the Deity assigned to each. 
 
 Many great and glorious enterprises has the common- 
 wealth, ^schines, undertaken and succeeded in through 
 me; and she did not forget them. Here is the proof. 
 
 1 Battles of the Persian wars 
 
Demosthenes on the Crown 245 
 
 On the election of a person to speak the funeral oration 
 immediately after the event, you were proposed, but the 
 people would not have you, notwithstanding your fine 
 voice, nor any other of your party — but me. And when 
 you came forward in a brutal and shameful manner, and 
 urged the same accusations against me which you now do, 
 they elected me all the more. The reason— you are not 
 ignorant of it, yet I will tell you. The Athenians knew 
 as well the loyalty and zeal with which I conducted their 
 affairs, as the dishonesty of you and your party. They 
 thought it right also, that the person who was to speak in 
 honor of the fallen and celebrate their valor, should not 
 with his voice act the mourner of their fate, but that he 
 should lament over them with his heart. 
 
 Nor, while the people felt thus, did the fathers and 
 brothers of the deceased, who were chosen by the people 
 to perform their obsequies, feel differently. For, having 
 to order the funeral banquet, according to custom, at the 
 house of the nearest relative of the deceased, they ordered 
 it at mine. And with reason: because, though each to 
 his own was nearer of kin than I, none was so near to 
 them all collectively. He that had the deepest interest in 
 their safety and success, had upon their mournful disaster 
 the largest share of sorrow for them all. 
 
 It is pleasant to know that Demosthenes completely 
 overcame the timidity felt by his countrymen toward the 
 successful Macedonians, ^schines, failing to carry even 
 a fourth of the jury, incurred a heavy fine and lost the 
 right to bring a suit again. In his mortification he went 
 into voluntary exile. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 Professor Butcher's "Demosthenes," in Classical Writers, is 
 of course a masterly little monograph. The translation of the 
 orations, five volumes, by Kennedy in the Bohn Classical Library, 
 is one of the best pieces of classical scholarship in the English 
 language. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 SICILIAN IDYLLS OF THEOCRITUS 
 The Poetry oj Rustic Lije. 
 
 Perhaps the right of Theocritus to any place among 
 ideaHsts may be questioned. His gentle shepherds, and 
 other peasants, feel no such mystical bond of sympathy, 
 uniting man with outward nature, as a Wordsworth, or an 
 Emerson, is constantly striving to express. And yet, the 
 simple delight in rustic life, the music of woods and 
 streams, has never found happier expression. A genial 
 wit, a kindly humane feeling, a healthy love of life, all 
 contribute to his unique charm. More even than with 
 most poets, that charm vanishes when his ideas are uttered 
 in an alien and less melodious language. Yet his true 
 lovers can hardly desist from the attempt to echo his 
 strains, and certainly such a volume as this would be quite 
 incomplete, if the sweetest of Hellenic poets were wholly 
 absent. However, in his idylls or pastorals, the part is 
 often more than the whole, and he may perhaps be fairly 
 represented here by a handful of brief versions from vari- 
 ous hands. 
 
 Of Theocritus' life very little is accurately known, but 
 he lived and wrote during the fourth century B.C., in his 
 native Sicily, in the little isle of Cos, — and at the luxuri- 
 ous Alexandrian court of Ptolemy, king of Egypt. Like 
 Bums, he is most enjoyable in his simplest utterances, in 
 the broad Doric dialect of his island birthplace. 
 
 246 
 
Sicilian Idylls of Theocritus 247 
 
 In the first idyll occurs the beautiful description of a 
 carven bowl offered as a reward for rustic song. It has 
 evidently three chief groups of figures embossed in low 
 relief on its outer sides. 
 
 IDYLL I 
 
 Thyrsis 
 Sweet are the whispers of yon pine that makes 
 Low music o'er the spring, and, Goatherd, sweet 
 Thy piping: second thou to Pan alone. 
 
 Goatherd 
 Shepherd, thy lay is as the noise of streams, 
 Falling and falling aye from yon tall crag. 
 
 Thyrsis 
 Pray, by the nymphs, pray. Goatherd, seat thee here 
 Against this hill-slope in the tamarisk shade. 
 And pipe me somewhat, while I guard thy goats. 
 
 Goatherd 
 There, where the oaks are, and the shepherd's seat, 
 Sing as thou sangst erewhile. 
 
 I'll give thee, first, 
 To milk, ay thrice, a goat — she suckles twins. 
 Yet ne'ertheless can fill two milk pails full; — 
 Next, a deep drinking-cup, with sweet wax scoured. 
 Two-handled, newly-carven, smacking yet 
 O' the chisel. Ivy reaches up and chmbs 
 About its lip, gilt here and there with sprays 
 Of woodbine, that enwreathed about it flaunts 
 Her saffron fruitage. 
 
 Framed therein appears 
 A damsel ('tis a miracle of art) 
 In robe and snood: and suitors at her side. 
 With locks fair-flowing, on her right and left 
 Battle with words that fail to reach her heart. 
 
248 Ideals In Greek Literature 
 
 She, laughing, glances now on this, flings now 
 Her chance regards on that: they, all for love 
 Wearied and eye-swoln, find their labor lost. 
 
 Carven elsewhere an ancient fisher stands 
 On the rough rocks; thereto the old man with pains 
 Drags his great casting-net, as one that toils 
 Full stoutly: every fibre of his frame 
 Seems fishing; so about the greybeard's neck 
 (In might a youngster yet) the sinews swell. 
 
 Hard by that wave-beat sire a vineyard bends 
 Beneath its graceful load of burnished grapes; 
 A boy sits on the rude fence watching them. 
 Near him two foxes; down the rows of grapes 
 One ranging steals the ripest; one assails 
 With wiles the poor lad's scrip, to leave him soon 
 Stranded and supperless. He plaits meanwhile 
 With ears of com a right fine cricket trap, 
 And fits it on a rush : for vines, for scrip 
 Little he cares, enamoured of his toy. 
 
 The cup is hung all round with lissome briar. 
 A goat it cost me, and a great white cheese. 
 Ne'er yet my lips came near it, virgin still 
 It stands. And welcome to such boon art thou. 
 If for my sake thou'lt sing that lay of lays. 
 I jest not: up, lad, sing: no songs thou'lt own 
 In the dim land where all things are forgot. 
 
 — Calveriys translation. 
 
 In the tenth Idyll is inserted a reapers' chorus, which 
 may well have been, in part at least, a real folk-song, 
 older far than our poet. Like most of Theocritus' verse 
 it is in hexameters, but seems to demand in English the 
 more familiar ballad-metre. The division into couplets, 
 here indicated, is no less marked in the Greek. 
 
 Mowers' Chorus 
 Demeter, Giver of the fruit, Bestower of the grain. 
 Easy and rich the harvest make, our labor not in vain! 
 
Sicilian Idylls of Theocritus 249 
 
 Now, binders, tightly bind the sheaves, lest they that pass 
 
 may say 
 " 'Twas men of straw that labored here, and wasted was 
 
 their pay." 
 
 Toward the North wind let the swath we cut, — or else the 
 
 West,— 
 Lie as it falls, for so, 'tis said, the grain will ripen best. 
 
 Ye mowers, when the lark awakes our labor is begun. 
 Nor ends until he hies to rest: but noontide, heat we shun. 
 
 The folk that tread the threshing-floor at noon may take 
 
 no rest: 
 For then it is the chaff from out the wheat is parted best. 
 
 The frog, lads, hath a merry life, for never need he care 
 If one shall come to fetch his dram: he still hath drink to 
 spare. 
 
 More carefully the lentils boil, thou steward full of greed, 
 And do not slit thy fingers while thou'rt splitting cummin 
 seed. 
 
 In the seventh Idyll we have a sketch of the poet him- 
 self, under the name of Simichidas (Snub-nose). Walk- 
 ing with two friends to the harvest festival of Demeter, 
 the Grain-giver, he meets a youth whose name Milton has 
 borrowed for the most famous of English elegies. The 
 whole poem seems an actual memory of youthful days in 
 Cos, whither Theocritus is said to have betaken himself 
 to become the pupil of the poet Philetas. 
 
 Poplar and elm 
 Showed aisles of pleasant splendor, greenly roofed 
 By tufted leaves. Scarce midway were we now. 
 When, thanks be to the Muses, there drew near 
 A wayfarer from Crete, young Lycidas. 
 The horn'd herd was his care; a glance might tell 
 
250 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 So much: for every inch a herdsman he. 
 Slung o*er his shoulder was a ruddy hide 
 Torn from a he-goat, shaggy, tangle-haired, 
 That reeked of rennet yet : a broad belt clasped 
 The patched cloak round his breast, and for a staff 
 A gnarled wild olive bough his right hand bore. 
 Soon with a quiet smile he spake — his eye 
 Twinkled, and laughter sat upon his lip: 
 
 '*And whither ploddest thou thy weary way 
 Beneath the noontide sun, Simichidas? 
 For now the lizard sleeps upon the wall. 
 The crested lark folds now his wandering wing. 
 Dost speed, a bidden guest, to some reveller's board? 
 Or townward to the treading of the grape? 
 For lo! recoiling from thy hurrying feet 
 The pavement stones ring out right merrily.'* 
 
 Then I: ** Friend Lycidas, men say that none 
 Of haymakers or herdsmen is thy match 
 At piping; and my soul is glad thereat. 
 Yet to speak sooth, I think I rival thee. 
 Now look, this road holds holiday to-day: 
 For banded brethren solemnize a feast 
 To richly-dight Demeter, thanking her 
 For her good gifts : since with no grudging hand 
 Hath the boon goddess filled the wheaten floors. 
 So come. The way, the day, is thine as mine: 
 Try we our woodcraft — each may learn from each. 
 I am, as thou, a clarion- voice of song; 
 All hail me chief of minstrels. But I am not. 
 Heaven knows, o'er-credulous: no, I scarce can yet 
 (I think) out-vie Philetas, .... 
 
 — Calverly. 
 
 Last we may set the dramatic sketch in which the pair 
 of frivolous Syracusan ladies, and the thronging streets of 
 Ptolemy's splendid capital Alexandria, are most vividly 
 deHneated. 
 
Sicilian Idylls of Theocritus 251 
 
 THE FEAST OF ADONIS 
 
 GoRGO {At her friend's door.) 
 Praxinoe within? 
 
 EUNOfi 
 
 Why, Gorgo, dear, 
 How late you are. Yes, she's within. 
 
 Praxinoe {Appearing.) 
 What, no! 
 And so you're come at last. A seat here, Eunoe; 
 And set a cushion. 
 
 EUNOE 
 
 There is one. 
 
 Praxinoe 
 
 Sit down. 
 
 Gorgo 
 Oh, what a thing's a spirit. Do you know, 
 I've scarcely got alive to you, Praxinoe, 
 There's such a crowd — such heaps of carriages. 
 And horses, and fine soldiers, all full dressed: 
 And then you live such an immense way off! 
 
 Praxinoe 
 Why, 'twas his shabby doing. He would take 
 This hole that he calls house, at the world's end. 
 'Twas all to spite me, and to part us two. 
 
 Gorgo. {Speaking lower.) 
 Don't talk so of your husband, there's a dear. 
 Before the little one. See how he looks at you. 
 
 Praxinoe. {To the little boy.) 
 There, don't look grave, child; cheer up, Zopy, sweet; 
 It isn't your papa we're talking of. 
 
252 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 GoRGO (Aside.) 
 He thinks it is though. 
 
 Praxinoe 
 (To Gorgo.) 
 
 Oh, no — nice papa! 
 Well, this strange body once (let us say once 
 And then he won't know who we're telHng of), 
 Going to buy some washes and saltpetre. 
 Comes bringing salt! the great big simpleton! 
 
 Gorgo 
 And there's my precious ninny, Dioclede: 
 He gave for five old ragged fleeces, yesterday. 
 Ten drachmas! for mere dirt! trash upon trash! 
 But come; put on your things; button away. 
 Or we shall miss the show. It's the king's own: 
 And I am told the queen has made of it 
 A wonderful fine thing. 
 
 Praxinoe 
 Ay, luck has luck. 
 Well, tell us all about it; for we hear 
 Nothing in this vile place. 
 
 Gorgo 
 
 We haven't time. 
 Workers can't throw away their holidays. 
 
 Praxinoe 
 Some water, Eunoe and then, my fine one, 
 To take your rest again. Puss loves good lying. 
 Come; move, girl, move; some water, water first. 
 Look how she brings it! Now, then; — hold, hold, care- 
 less ; 
 Not quite so fast; you're wetting all my gown. 
 There; that'll do. Now, please the gods, I'm washed. 
 The key of the great chest — where 's that? Go fetch it. 
 
 (ExU Eunoe.) 
 
Sicilian Idylls of Theocritus 253 
 
 GORGO 
 
 Praxinoe, that gown with the full skirts 
 Becomes you mightily. What did it cost you? 
 
 Praxinoe 
 Oh, don't remind me of it. More than one 
 Or two good pounds, besides the time and trouble. 
 
 GORGO 
 
 All of which you had forgotten. 
 
 Praxinoe 
 
 Ah, ha! True; 
 That's good. You're quite right. 
 
 {Reenter Eunoe.) 
 Come; my cloak; my cloak; 
 And parasol. There — help it on now, properly. 
 
 {To the little hoy.) 
 Child, child, you cannot go. The horse will bite it; 
 The Horrid Woman's coming. Well, well, simpleton, 
 Cry, if you will; but you must not get lamed. 
 Come, Gorgo. Phrygia, take the child ; and play with him ; 
 And call the dog indoors and lock the gate. 
 
 {They go out.) 
 Powers, what a crowd! How shall we get along? 
 Why, they're like ants! countless! innumerable! 
 Well, Ptolemy, you've done fine things, that's certain, 
 Since the gods took your father. No one nowadays 
 Does harm to travellers as they used to do, 
 After the Egyptian fashion, lying in wait, — 
 Masters of nothing but detestable tricks; 
 And all alike — a set of cheats and brawlers. 
 — Gorgo, sweet friend, what will become of us? 
 Here are the king's horse-guards! Pray, my good man, 
 Don't tread upon us so. See the bay horse! 
 Look how it rears! It's like a great mad dog. 
 How you stand, Eunoe! It will throw him! Certainly! 
 How lucky that I left the child at home. 
 
254 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 GORGO 
 
 Courage, Praxinoe: they have passed us now; 
 They've gone into the courtyard. 
 
 Praxinoe 
 
 Good! I breathe again. 
 I never could abide in all my life 
 A horse and a cold snake. 
 
 GoRGO (Addressing an old woman.) 
 From court, mother? 
 
 Old Woman 
 Yes, child. 
 
 GORGO 
 
 Pray, is it easy to get in? 
 
 Old Woman 
 The Greeks got into Troy. Everything's done 
 By trying. 
 
 (Exit Old Woman.) 
 
 GORGO 
 
 Bless us! How she bustles off. 
 Why, the old woman's quite oracular. 
 But women must know everything; even what Juno 
 Wore on her wedding day. See now, Praxinoe, 
 How the gate's crowded 
 
 Praxinoe 
 
 Frightfully indeed. 
 Give me your hand, dear Gorgo; and do you 
 Hold fast of Eutychis's, Eunoe. 
 Don't let her go; don't stir an inch; and so 
 We'll all squeeze in together. Stick close now. 
 Oh me! oh mel My veil's torn right in two! 
 Do take care, my good man, and mind my cloak. 
 
Sicilian Idylls of Theocritus 255 
 
 Man 
 *Twas not my fault, but I'll take care. 
 
 Praxinoe 
 
 They drive like pigs! 
 
 What heaps! 
 
 Man 
 Courage, old girl! All's safe. 
 
 Praxinoe 
 Blessings upon you, sir, now and forever, 
 For taking care of us. A good, kind soul. 
 How Eunoe squeezes us! Do, child, make way 
 For your own self. There; now, we've all got in. 
 As the man said when he was put in prison. 
 
 GORGO 
 
 Praxinoe, do look there! What lovely tapestry! 
 
 How fine and showy! One would think the gods did it. 
 
 Praxinoe 
 Holy Athene ! How these artists work ! 
 How they do paint their pictures from the life ! 
 The figures stand so like and move so like! 
 They're quite alive, not worked. Well, certainly, 
 Man's a wise creature. 
 
 Second Man 
 Do hold your tongue there ; Chatter, chatter, chatter. 
 The turtles stun one, with their yawning gabble. 
 
 GORGO 
 
 Hey-day! Whence comes the man? What is't to you 
 If we do chatter? Speak where you've a right. 
 You're not the master here. And as for that. 
 Our tongue's Peloponnesiac ; and we hope 
 It's lawful for the Dorians to speak Doric! 
 
2^6 Ideals in Greek Literature 
 
 Praxinoe 
 We*ve but one master, by the Honey-sweet! » 
 And don't fear you, nor all your empty blows. 
 
 GORGO 
 Hush, hush, Praxinoe! There's the Grecian girl, 
 A most amazing creature, going to sing 
 About Adonis; she'll sing something fine, 
 I warrant. See how sweetly she prepares! 
 
 {The Song.) 
 
 GORGO 
 
 Well, if that's not a clever creature. 
 
 Trust me! Lord! What a quantity of things she knows! 
 
 And what a charming voice ! 'Tis time to go though, . 
 
 For there's my husband hasn't had his dinner. 
 
 And you'd best come across him when he wants it! 
 
 Good-bye, Adonis, darling, come again. 
 
 — Leigh Hunt. 
 This teeming world-city, where men of all nations 
 jostle each other, is more nearly akin to the Rome of the 
 empire than to the comparatively simple Greek life ex- 
 pressed in the best Hellenic literature and art. That Hfe 
 is already but a fading memory. Athens itself, in Theoc- 
 ritus' poetry, is as rarely mentioned, almost as remote, as 
 Homeric Troy. It is time to close the volume. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 There is a graceful poetical translation of Theocritus by 
 Calverly. The 'prose version of Lang includes the works of the 
 minor pastoral poets, Bion and Moschus, and also contains a 
 remarkably vivid and sympathetic introductory essay. B ion's 
 ''Lament for Adonis" was translated by Leigh Hunt, Moschos* 
 "Dirge for Bion," by Mrs. Browning. Other versions from this 
 group of poets will be found in MiflBin's "Echoes of Greek Idyls," 
 Sedgwick's "Sicilian Idyls," etc. See also Appleton's "Greek 
 Poets." 
 
 1 A name for FArSefrfione. 
 
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