| |
| Him and these fellow-farers at his side; | 800 |
| Give them such guest-right as beseems our halls; | |
| I bid thee do as thou shalt answer for it. | |
| And I unto the prince who rules our home | |
| Will tell the tale, and, since we lack not friends, | 804 |
| With them will counsel how this hap to bear.[Exit Clytemnestra. | |
| |
CHORUS
So be it done— | |
| Sister—servants, when draws nigh | |
| Time for us aloud to cry, | 808 |
| Orestes and his victory? | |
| |
| O holy earth and holy tomb | |
| Over the grave—pit heaped on high, | |
| Where low doth Agamemnon lie, | 812 |
| The king of ships, the army’s lord! | |
| Now is the hour—give ear and come, | |
| For now doth Craft her aid afford, | |
| And Hermes, guard of shades in hell, | 816 |
| Stands o’er their strife, to sentinel | |
| The dooming of the sword. | |
| I wot the stranger worketh woe within— | |
| For lo! I see come forth, suffused with tears, | 820 |
| Orestes’ nurse. What ho, Kilissa—thou | |
| Beyond the doors? Where goest thou? Methinks | |
| Some grief unbidden walketh at thy side.[Enter Kilissa, a nurse. | |
| |
KILISSA
My mistress bids me, with what speed I may, | 824 |
| Call in Ægisthus to the stranger guests, | |
| That he may come, and standing face to face, | |
| A man with men, may thus more clearly learn | |
| This rumour new. Thus speaking, to her slaves | 828 |
| She hid beneath the glance of fictive grief | |
| Laughter for what is wrought—to her desire | |
| Too well; but ill, ill, ill besets the house, | |
| Brought by the tale these guests have told so clear. | 832 |
| And he, God wot, will gladden all his heart | |
| Hearing this rumour. Woe and well-a-day! | |
| The bitter mingled cup of ancient woes, | |
| Hard to be borne, that here in Atreus’ house | 836 |
| Befel, was grievous to mine inmost heart, | |
| But never yet did I endure such pain. | |
| All else I bore with set soul patiently; | |
| But now—alack, alack!—Orestes dear, | 840 |
| The day—and night-long travail of my soul! | |
| Whom from his mother’s womb, a new-born child, | |
| I clasped and cherished! Many a time and oft | |
| Toilsome and profitless my service was, | 844 |
| When his shrill outcry called me from my couch! | |
| For the young child, before the sense is born, | |
| Hath but a dumb thing’s life, must needs be nursed | |
| As its own nature bids. The swaddled thing | 848 |
| Hath nought of speech, whate’er discomfort come— | |
| Hunger or thirst or lower weakling need,— | |
| For the babe’s stomach works its own relief. | |
| Which knowing well before, yet oft surprised, | 852 |
| ’Twas mine to cleanse the swaddling clothes—poor I | |
| Was nurse to tend and fuller to make white; | |
| Two works in one, two handicrafts I took, | |
| When in mine arms the father laid the boy. | 856 |
| And now he’s dead—alack and well—a—day! | |
| Yet must I go to him whose wrongful power | |
| Pollutes this house—fair tidings these to him! | |
| |
CHORUS
Say then with what array she bids him come? | 860 |
| |
KILISSA
What say’st thou! Speak more clearly for mine ear. | |
| |
CHORUS
Bids she bring henchmen, or to come alone? | |
| |
KILISSA
She bids him bring a spear-armed body-guard. | |
| |
CHORUS
Nay, tell not that unto our loathed lord, | 864 |
| But speed to him, put on the mien of joy, | |
| Say, Come along, fear nought, the news is good: | |
| A bearer can tell straight a twisted tale. | |
| |
KILISSA
Does then thy mind in this new tale find joy? | 868 |
| |
CHORUS
What if Zeus bid our ill wind veer to fair? | |
| |
KILISSA
And how? the home’s hope with Orestes dies. | |
| |
CHORUS
Not yet—a seer, though feeble, this might see. | |
| |
KILISSA
What say’st thou? Know’st thou aught this tale belying? | 872 |
| |
CHORUS
Go, tell the news to him, perform thine hest,— | |
| What the gods will, themselves can well provide. | |
| |
KILISSA
Well, I will go, herein obeying thee; | |
| And luck fall fair, with favour sent from heaven. [Exit. | 876 |
| |
CHORUS
Zeus, sire of them who on Olympus dwell, | |
| Hear thou, O hear my prayer! | |
| Grant to my rightful lords to prosper well | |
| Even as their zeal is fair! | 880 |
| For right, for right goes up aloud my cry— | |
| Zeus, aid him, stand anigh! | |
| |
| Into his father’s hall he goes | |
| To smite his father’s foes. | 884 |
| Bid him prevail! by thee on throne of triumph set, | |
| Twice, yea and thrice with joy shall acquit the debt. | |
| |
| Bethink thee, the young steed, the orphan foal | |
| Of sire beloved by thee, unto the car | 888 |
| Of doom is harnessed fast. | |
| Guide him aright, plant firm a lasting goal, | |
| Speed thou his pace,—O that no chance may mar | |
| The homeward course, the last! | 892 |
| |
| And ye who dwell within the inner chamber | |
| Where shines the stored joy of gold— | |
| Gods of one heart, O hear ye, and remember; | |
| Up and avenge the blood shed forth of old, | 896 |
| With sudden rightful blow; | |
| Then let the old curse die, nor be renewed | |
| With progeny of blood,— | |
| Once more, and not again, be latter guilt laid low! | 900 |
| |
| O thou who dwell’st in Delphi’s mighty cave, | |
| Grant us to see this home once more restored | |
| Unto its rightful lord! | |
| Let it look forth, from veils of death, with joyous eye | 904 |
| Unto the dawning light of liberty; | |
| And Hermes, Maia’s child, lend hand to save, | |
| Willing the right, and guide | |
| Our state with Fortune’s breeze adown the favouring tide. | 908 |
| Whate’er in darkness hidden lies, | |
| He utters at his will; | |
| He at his will throws darkness on our eye, | |
| By night and eke by day inscrutable. | 912 |
| |
| Then, then shall wealth atone | |
| The ills that here were done. | |
| Then, then will we unbind, | |
| Fling free on wafting wind | 916 |
| Of joy, the woman’s voice that waileth now | |
| In piercing accents for a chief laid low; | |
| And this our songs shall be— | |
| Hail to the commonwealth restored! | 920 |
| Hail to the freedom won to me! | |
| All hail! for doom hath passed from him, my well—loved lord! | |
| |
| And thou, O child, when Time and Chance agree, | |
| Up to the deed that for thy sire is done! | 924 |
| And if she wail unto thee, Spare, O son— | |
| Cry, Aid, O father—and achieve the deed, | |
| The horror of man’s tongue, the gods’ great need! | |
| Hold in thy breast such heart as Perseus had, | 928 |
| The bitter woe work forth, | |
| Appease the summons of the dead, | |
| The wrath of friends on earth; | |
| Yea, set within a sign of blood and doom, | 932 |
| And do to utter death him that pollutes thy home. [Enter Ægisthus. | |
| |
ÆGISTHUS
Hither and not unsummoned have I come; | |
| For a new rumour, borne by stranger men | |
| Arriving hither, hath attained mine ears. | 936 |
| Of hap unwished-for, even Orestes’ death. | |
| This were new sorrow, a blood-bolter’s load | |
| Laid on the house that doth already bow | |
| Beneath a former wound that festers deep. | 940 |
| Dare I opine these words have truth and life? | |
| Or are they tales, of woman’s terror born, | |
| That fly in the void air, and die disproved? | |
| Canst thou tell aught, and prove it to my soul? | 944 |
| |
CHORUS
What we have heard, we heard; go thou within | |
| Thyself to ask the strangers of their tale. | |
| Strengthless are tidings, thro’ another heard; | |
| Question is his to whom the tale is brought. | 948 |
| |
ÆGISTHUS
I too will meet and test the messenger, | |
| Whether himself stood witness of the death | |
| Or tells it merely from dim rumour learnt: | |
| None shall cheat me, whose soul hath watchful eyes. [Exit. | 952 |
| |
CHORUS
Zeus, Zeus! what word to me is given? | |
| What cry or prayer, invoking heaven, | |
| Shall first by me be uttered? | |
| What speech of craft—nor all revealing, | 956 |
| Nor all too warily concealing— | |
| Ending my speech, shall aid the deed? | |
| For lo! in readiness is laid | |
| The dark emprise, the rending blade; | 960 |
| Blood-dropping daggers shall achieve | |
| The dateless doom of Atreus’ name, | |
| Or—kindling torch and joyful flame | |
| In sign of new-won liberty— | 964 |
| Once more Orestes shall retrieve | |
| His father’s wealth, and throned on high, | |
| Shall hold the city’s fealty. | |
| So mighty is the grasp whereby, | 968 |
| Heaven-holpen, he shall trip and throw | |
| Unseconded, a double foe. | |
| Ho for the victory! [A loud cry within. | |
| |
VOICE OF ÆGISTHUS
Help, help, alas! | 972 |
| |
CHORUS
Ho there, ho! how is’t within? | |
| Is’t done? is’t over? Stand we here aloof | |
| While it is wrought, that guiltless we may seem | |
| Of this dark deed; with death is strife fulfilled.[Enter a slave. | 976 |
| |
SLAVE
O woe, O woe, my lord is done to death! | |
| Woe, woe, and again, Ægisthus gone! | |
| Hasten, fling wide the doors, unloose the bolts | |
| Of the queen’s chamber. O for some young strength | 980 |
| To match the need! but aid availeth nought | |
| To him laid low for ever. Help, help, help! | |
| Sure to deaf ears I shout, and call in vain | |
| To slumber ineffectual. What ho! | 984 |
| The queen! how fareth Clytemnestra’s self? | |
| Her neck too, hers, is close upon the steel, | |
| And soon shall sink, hewn thro’ as justice wills. [Enter Clytemnestra. | |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
What ails thee, raising this ado for us? | 988 |
| |
SLAVE
I say the dead are come to slay the living. | |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Alack, I read thy riddles all to clear— | |
| We slew by craft and by like craft shall die. | |
| Swift, bring the axe that slew my lord of old; | 992 |
| I’ll know anon or death or victory— | |
| So stands the curse, so I confront it here. [Enter Orestes, his sword dropping with blood. | |
| |
ORESTES
Thee too I seek: for him what’s done will serve. | |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Woe, woe! Ægisthus, spouse and champion, slain! | 996 |
| |
ORESTES
What, lov’st the man? then in his grave lie down, | |
| Be his in death, desert him nevermore! | |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Stay, child, and fear to strike, O son, this breast | |
| Pillowed thine head full oft, while, drowsed with sleep, | 1000 |
| Thy toothless mouth drew mother’s milk from me. | |
| |
ORESTES
Can I my mother spare? speak, Pylades. | |
| |
PYLADES
Where then would fall the hest Apollo gave | |
| At Delphi, where the solemn compact sworn? | 1004 |
| Choose thou the hate of all men, not of gods. | |
| |
ORESTES
Thou dost prevail; I hold thy counsel good. [To Clytemnestra. | |
| Follow; I will to slay thee at his side. | |
| With him whom in his life thou lovedst more | 1008 |
| Than Agamemnon, sleep in death, the meed | |
| For hate where love, and love where hate was due! | |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
I nursed thee young; must I forego mine eld? | |
| |
ORESTES
Thou slew’st my father; shalt thou dwell with me? | 1012 |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Fate bore a share in these things, O my child! | |
| |
ORESTES
Fate also doth provide this doom for thee. | |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Beware, O child, a parent’s dying curse. | |
| |
ORESTES
A parent who did cast me out to ill! | 1016 |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Not cast thee out, but to a friendly home. | |
| |
ORESTES
Born free, I was by twofold bargain sold. | |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Where then the price that I received for thee? | |
| |
ORESTES
The price of shame; I taunt thee not more plainly. | 1020 |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Nay, but recount thy father’s lewdness too. | |
| |
ORESTES
keeping, chide not him who toils without. | |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
’Tis hard for wives to live as widows, child. | |
| |
ORESTES
The absent husband toils for them at home. | 1024 |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Thou growest fain to slay thy mother, child. | |
| |
ORESTES
Nay, ’tis thyself wilt slay thyself, not I. | |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Beware thy mother’s vengeful hounds from hell. | |
| |
ORESTES
How shall I ’scape my father’s, sparing thee? | 1028 |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Living, I cry as to a tomb, unheard. | |
| |
ORESTES
My father’s fate ordains this doom for thee. | |
| |
CLYTEMNESTRA
Ah, me! this snake it was I bore and nursed. | |
| |
ORESTES
Ay, right prophetic was thy visioned fear. | 1032 |
| Shameful thy deed was—die the death of shame! [Exit, driving Clytemnestra before him. | |
| |
CHORUS
Lo, even for these I mourn, a double death: | |
| Yet since Orestes, driven on by doom, | |
| Thus crowns the height of murders manifold, | 1036 |
| I say, ’tis well that not in night and death | |
| Should sink the eye and light of this our home. | |
| |
| There came on Priam’s race and name | |
| A vengeance; though it tarried long, | 1040 |
| With heavy doom it came. | |
| Came, too, on Agamemnon’s hall | |
| A lion-pair, twin swordsmen strong. | |
| And last, the heritage doth fall | 1044 |
| To him to whom from Pythian cave | |
| The god his deepest counsel gave. | |
| Cry out, rejoice! our kingly hall | |
| Hath ’scaped from ruin—ne’er again | 1048 |
| Its ancient wealth be wasted all | |
| By two usurpers, is sin-defiled— | |
| An evil path of woe and bane! | |
| On him who dealt the dastard blow | 1052 |
| Comes Craft, Revenge’s scheming child. | |
| And hand in hand with him doth go, | |
| Eager for fight, | |
| The child of Zeus, whom men below | 1056 |
| Call Justice, naming her aright. | |
| And on her foes her breath | |
| Is as the blast of death; | |
| For her the god who dwells in deep recess | 1060 |
| Beneath Parnassus’ brow, | |
| Summons with loud acclaim | |
| To rise, though late and lame, | |
| And come with craft that worketh righteousness. | 1064 |
| |
| For even o’er powers divine this law is strong— | |
| Thou shalt not serve the wrong. | |
| To that which ruleth heaven beseems it that we bow. | |
| Lo, freedom’s light hath come! | 1068 |
| Lo, now is rent away | |
| The grim and curbing bit that held us dumb. | |
| Up to the light, ye halls! this many a day | |
| Too low on earth ye lay. | 1072 |
| And Time, the great Accomplisher, | |
| Shall cross the threshold, whensoe’er | |
| He choose with purging hand to cleanse | |
| The palace, driving all pollution thence. | 1076 |
| And fair the cast of Fortune’s die | |
| Before our state’s new lords shall lie, | |
| Not as of old, but bringing fairer doom. | |
| Lo, freedom’s light hath come! [The scene opens, disclosing Orestes standing over the corpses of Ægisthus and Clytemnestra; in one hand he holds his sword, in the other the robe in which Agamemnon was entangled and slain. | 1080 |
| |
ORESTES
There lies our country’s twofold tyranny, | |
| My father’s slayers, spoilers of my home. | |
| Erst were they royal, sitting on the throne,. | |
| And loving are they yet,—their common fate | 1084 |
| Tells the tale truly, shows their trothplight firm. | |
| They swore to work mine ill—starred father’s death, | |
| They swore to die together; ’tis fulfilled. | |
| O ye who stand, this great doom’s witnesses, | 1088 |
| Behold this too, the dark device which bound | |
| My sire unhappy to his death,—behold | |
| The mesh which trapped his hands, enwound his feet! | |
| Stand round, unfold it—’tis the trammel—net | 1092 |
| That wrapped a chieftain; hold it that he see, | |
| The father—not my sire, but he whose eye | |
| Is judge of all things, the all—seeing Sun! | |
| Let him behold my mother’s damnèd deed, | 1096 |
| Then let him stand, when need shall be to me, | |
| Witness that justly I have sought and slain | |
| My mother; blameless was Ægisthus’ doom— | |
| He died the death law bids adulterers die. | 1000 |
| But she who plotted this accursed thing | |
| To slay her lord, by whom she bare beneath | |
| Her girdle once the burden of her babes, | |
| Beloved erewhile, now turned to hateful foes— | 1104 |
| What deem ye of her? or what venomed thing, | |
| Sea-snake or adder, had more power than she | |
| To poison with a touch the flesh unscarred? | |
| So great her daring, such her impious will. | 1108 |
| How name her, if I may not speak a curse? | |
| A lion-springe! a laver’s swathing cloth, | |
| Wrapping a dead man, twining round his feet— | |
| A net, a trammel, an entangling robe? | 1112 |
| Such were the weapon of some strangling thief, | |
| The terror of the road, a cut-purse hound— | |
| With such device full many might he kill, | |
| Full oft exult in heat of villainy. | 1116 |
| Ne’er have my house so cursed an indweller— | |
| Heaven send me, rather, childless to be slain! | |
| |
CHORUS
Woe for each desperate deed! | |
| Woe for the queen, with shame of life bereft! | 1120 |
| And ah, for him who still is left, | |
| Madness, dark blossom of a bloody seed! | |
| |
ORESTES
Did she the deed or not? this robe gives proof, | |
| Imbrued with blood that bathed Ægisthus’ sword: | 1124 |
| Look, how the spurted stain combines with time | |
| To blur the many dyes that once adorned | |
| Its pattern manifold! I now stand here, | |
| Made glad, made sad with blood, exulting, wailing— | 1128 |
| Hear, O thou woven web that slew my sire! | |
| I grieve for deed and death and all my home— | |
| Victor, pollution’s damnèd stain for prize. | |
| |
CHORUS
Alas, that none of mortal men | 1132 |
| Can pass his life untouched by pain! | |
| Behold, one woe is here— | |
| Another loometh near. | |
| |
ORESTES
Hark ye and learn—for what the end shall be | 1136 |
| For me I know not: breaking from the curb, | |
| My spirit whirls me off, a conquered prey, | |
| Borne as a charioteer by steeds distraught | |
| Far from the course, and madness in my breast | 1140 |
| Burneth to chant its song, and leap, and rave— | |
| Hark ye and learn, friends, ere my reason goes! | |
| I say that rightfully I slew my mother, | |
| A thing God-scorned, that foully slew my sire. | 1144 |
| And chiefest wizard of the spell that bound me | |
| Unto this deed I name the Pythian seer | |
| Apollo, who foretold that if I slew, | |
| The guilt of murder done should pass from me; | 1148 |
| But if I spared, the fate that should be mine | |
| I dare not blazon forth—the bow of speech | |
| Can reach not to the mark, that doom to tell. | |
| And now behold me, how with branch and crown | 1152 |
| I pass, a suppliant made meet to go | |
| Unto Earth’s midmost shrine, the holy ground | |
| Of Loxias, and that renowned light | |
| Of ever-burning fire, to ’scape the doom | 1156 |
| Of kindred murder: to no other shrine | |
| (So Loxias bade) may I for refuge turn. | |
| Bear witness, Argives, in the aftertime, | |
| How came on me this dread fatality. | 1160 |
| Living, I pass a banished wanderer hence, | |
| To leave in death the memory of this cry. | |
| |
CHORUS
Nay, but the deed is well; link not thy lips | |
| To speech ill-starred, nor vent ill-boding words— | 1164 |
| Who hast to Argos her full freedom given, | |
| Lopping two serpents’ heads with timely blow. | |
| |
ORESTES
Look, look, alas! | |
| Handmaidens, see—what Gorgon shapes throng up, | 1168 |
| Dusky their robes and all their hair enwound— | |
| Snakes coiled with snakes—off, off, I must away! | |
| |
CHORUS
Most loyal of all sons unto thy sire, | |
| What visions thus distract thee? Hold, abide; | 1172 |
| Great was thy victory, and shalt thou fear? | |
| |
ORESTES
These are no dreams, void shapes of haunting ill, | |
| But clear to sight my mother’s hell-hounds come! | |
| |
CHORUS
Nay, the fresh bloodshed still imbrues thine hands, | 1176 |
| And thence distraction sinks into thy soul. | |
| |
ORESTES
O king Apollo—see, they swarm and throng— | |
| Black blood of hatred dripping from their eyes! | |
| |
CHORUS
One remedy thou hast; go, touch the shrine | 1180 |
| Of Loxias, and rid thee of these woes. | |
| |
ORESTES
Ye can behold them not, but I behold them. | |
| Up and away! I dare abide no more. [Exit. | |
| |
CHORUS
Farewell than as thou mayst,—the god thy friend | 1184 |
| Guard thee and aid with chances favouring. | |
| |
| Behold, the storm of woe divine | |
| That raves and beats on Atreus’ line | |
| Its great third blast hath blown. | 1188 |
| First was Thyestes’ loathly woe— | |
| The rueful feast of long ago, | |
| On children’s flesh, unknown. | |
| And next the kingly chief’s despite, | 1192 |
| When he who led the Greeks to fight | |
| Was in the bath hewn down. | |
| And now the offspring of the race | |
| Stands in the third, the saviour’s place, | 1196 |
| To save—or to consume? | |
| O whither, ere it be fulfilled, | |
| Ere its fierce blast be hushed and stilled, | |
| Shall blow the wind of doom? [Exeunt. | 1200 |
| |
