• ANTISTROPHE IV.

  • Firm to the goal his purpose treads,
  • His will knows no frustration;
  • When with his brow the mighty god
  • Hath nodded consummation
  • But strangely, strangely weave their maze
  • His counsels, dusky wending,
  • Concealed in densely-tangled ways
  • From human comprehending.
  • STROPHE V.

  • From their high-towering hopes the proud
  • In wretched rout he casteth.
  • No force he wields; his simple will,
  • His quiet sentence blasteth.
  • All godlike power is calm; 8 and high
  • On thrones of glory seated,
  • Jove looks from Heaven with tranquil eye,
  • And sees his will completed.
  • ANTISTROPHE V.

  • Look down, O mighty god, and see
  • How this harsh wedlock planning,
  • That dry old tree in saplings green,
  • The insolent lust is fanning!
  • Madly he hugs the frenzied plan
  • With perverse heart unbending,
  • Hot-spurred, till Ruin seize the man,
  • Too late to think of mending.
  • STROPHE VI.

  • Ah! well-a-day! ah! well-a-day! 9
  • Thus sadly I hymn the sorrowful lay,
  • With a shrill-voiced cry,
  • With a sorrow-streaming eye,
  • Well-a-day, woe’s me!
  • Thus I grace my own tomb with the wail pouring free,
  • Thus I sing my own dirge, ah me! *
  • Ye Apian hills, be kind to me,
  • And throw not back the stranger’s note,
  • But know the Libyan wail.
  • Behold how, rent to sorrow’s note,
  • My linen robes all loosely float,
  • And my Sidonian veil.
  • ANTISTROPHE VI.

  • Ah! well-a-day! ah! well-a-day!
  • My plighted vows I’ll duly pay,
  • Ye gods, if ye will save
  • From the foe, and from the grave
  • My trembling life set free!
  • Surges high, surges high, sorrow’s many-billowed sea,
  • And woe towers on woe. Ah me!
  • Ye Apian hills, 10 be kind to me,
  • And throw not back the stranger’s note
  • But know the Libyan wail!
  • Behold how, rent to sorrow’s note,
  • My linen robes all loosely float,
  • And my Sidonian veil!
  • STROPHE VII.

  • And yet, in that slight timbered house, well-armed
  • With frequent-plashing oar,
  • Stiff sail and cordage straining, all unharmed
  • By winter’s stormy roar,
  • We reached this Argive shore.
  • Safely so far. May Jove, the all-seeing, send
  • As the beginning, so the prosperous end.
  • And may he grant, indeed,
  • That we, a gracious mother’s gracious seed,
  • By no harsh kindred wooed,
  • May live on Apian ground unyoked and unsubdued!
  • ANTISTROPHE VII.

  • May she, the virgin daughter of high Jove, *
  • Our virgin litany hear,
  • Our loving homage answering with more love!
  • She that, with face severe,
  • Repelled, in awful fear,
  • Each rude aggressor, in firm virtue cased,
  • Nor knew the lustful touch divinely chaste.
  • And may she grant, indeed,
  • That we, a gracious mother’s gracious seed,
  • By no harsh kindred wooed,
  • May live on Apian ground unyoked and unsubdued.
  • STROPHE VIII.

  • But if no aid to us may be,
  • Libya’s swart sun-beaten daughters,
  • The rope shall end our toils; and we,
  • Beneath the ground, shall fare to thee,
  • Thou many-guested Jove,
  • To thee our suppliant boughs we’ll spread,
  • Thou Saviour of the weary Dead,
  • Far from the shining thrones of blissful gods above.
  • Ah, Jove too well we know
  • What wrath divine scourged ancient Io, wailing
  • Beneath thy consort’s anger heaven-scaling;
  • And even so,
  • On Io’s seed may blow
  • A buffeting blast from her of black despairful woe.
  • ANTISTROPHE VIII.

  • O Jove, how then wilt thou be free
  • From just reproach of Libya’s daughters,
  • If thou in us dishonoured see
  • Him whom the heifer bore to thee
  • Whom thou didst chiefly love.
  • If thou from us shalt turn thy face,
  • What suppliant then shall seek thy grace?
  • O hear my prayer enthroned in loftiest state above!
  • For well, too well, we know
  • What wrath divine scourged ancient Io, wailing
  • Beneath thy consort’s anger heaven-scaling;
  • And even so,
  • On Io’s seed may blow
  • A buffeting blast from her of black despairful woe

Enter Danaus.

Danaus.
  • Be wise, my daughters. In no rash flight with me,
  • A hoary father, and a faithful pilot,
  • Ye crossed the seas; nor less is wisdom needful
  • Ashore; be wise, and on your heart’s true tablet
  • Engrave my words. For lo! where mounts the dust,
  • A voiceless herald of their coming; hear
  • Their distant-rumbling wheels! A host I see
  • Of bright shield-bearing and spear-shaking men,
  • Swift steeds, and rounded cars. 11 Of our here landing,
  • Timely apprised, the chiefs that rule this country
  • Come with their eyes to read us. But be their coming
  • Harmless, or harsh with fell displeasure, here
  • On this high-seat of the Agonian gods 12
  • Is safety for my daughters; for an altar
  • Is a sure tower of strength, a shield that bears
  • The rattling terror dintless. Go ye, therefore,
  • Embrace these altars, in your sistered hands 13
  • These white-wreathed precatory boughs presenting,
  • Which awful Jove reveres; and with choice phrase
  • Wisely your pity-moving tale-commend
  • When they shall ask you; as becomes the stranger,
  • The bloodless motive of your flight declaring
  • With clear recital The bold tongue eschewing,
  • With sober-fronted face and quiet eye
  • Your tale unfold. The garrulous prate, the length
  • Of slow-drawn speech beware. Such fault offends
  • This people sorely. Chiefly know to yield:
  • Thou art the weaker—a poor helpless stranger—
  • The bold-mouthed phrase suits ill with thy condition.
Chorus.
  • Father, thou speakest wisely: nor unwisely
  • Thy words would we receive, in memory’s ward
  • Storing thy hests; ancestral Jove be witness!
Danaus.

Even so; and with benignant eye look down! 14

Chorus.

* * * *

Danaus.

Delay not. In performance show thy strength.

Chorus.

Even there where thou dost sit, I’d sit beside thee!

Danaus

O Jove show pity ere pity come too late!

Chorus.

Jove willing, all is well.

Danaus.
  • Him, therefore, pray,
  • There where his bird the altar decorates: 15 pray
  • Apollo, too, the pure, the exiled once 16
  • From bright Olympus.
Chorus.
  • The sun’s restoring rays
  • We pray: the god what fate he knew will pity.
Danaus.

May he with pity and with aid be near!

Chorus.

Whom next shall I invoke?

Danaus.
  • Thou see’st this trident
  • And know’st of whom the symbol?
Chorus.
  • May the same
  • That sent us hither kindly now receive us!
Danaus.

Here’s Hermes likewise, as Greece knows the god. 17

Chorus.

Be he my herald, heralding the free!

Danaus.
  • This common altar of these mighty gods
  • Adore: within these holy precincts lodged,
  • Pure doves from hawks of kindred plumage fleeing,
  • Foes of your blood, polluters of your race.
  • Can bird eat bird and be an holy thing? 18
  • Can man be pure, from an unwilling father
  • Robbing unwilling brides? Who does these deeds
  • Will find no refuge from lewd guilt in Hades;
  • For there, as we have heard, another Jove
  • Holds final judgment on the guilty shades.
  • But now be ready. Here await their coming;
  • May the gods grant a victory to our prayers!

Enter King.

King.
  • Whom speak we here? Whence come? Certes no Greeks.
  • Your tire rich-flaunting with barbaric pride
  • Bespeaks you strangers. Argos knows you not,
  • Nor any part of Greece. Strange surely ’tis
  • That all unheralded, unattended all,
  • And of no host the acknowledged guest, unfearing
  • Ye tread this land. 19 If these boughs, woolly-wreathed,
  • That grace the altars of the Agonian gods
  • Speak what to Greeks they should speak, ye are suppliants.
  • Thus much I see: what more remains to guess
  • I spare; yourselves have tongues to speak the truth.
Chorus.
  • That we are strangers is most true; but whom
  • See we in thee? a citizen? a priest?
  • A temple warder with his sacred wand?
  • The ruler of the state?
King.
  • Speak with a fearless tongue, and plainly. I
  • Of old earth-born Palæcthon am the son, 20
  • My name Pelasgus, ruler of this land;
  • And fathered with my name the men who reap
  • Earth’s fruits beneath my sway are called Pelasgi;
  • And all the land where Algos flows, and Strymon, 21
  • Toward the westering sun my sceptre holds.
  • My kingdom the Perrhæbians bound, and those
  • Beyond high Pindus, by Pæonia, and
  • The Dodonéan heights; the briny wave
  • Completes the circling line; within these bounds
  • I rule; but here, where now thy foot is planted,
  • The land is Apia, from a wise physician
  • Of hoary date so called. He, from Naupactus,
  • Apollo’s son, by double right, physician
  • And prophet both, 22 crossed to this coast, and freed it
  • By holy purifyings, from the plague
  • Of man-destroying monsters, which the ground
  • With ancient taint of blood polluted bore.
  • This plague his virtue medicinal healed,
  • That we no more unfriendly fellowship
  • Hold with the dragon-brood. Such worthy service
  • With thankful heart the Argive land received,
  • And Apis lives remembered in her prayers.
  • Of this from me assured, now let me hear
  • Your whence, and what your purpose. Briefly speak;
  • This people hates much phrase.
Chorus.
  • Our tale is short.
  • We by descent are Argives, from the seed
  • Of the heifer sprung, whose womb was blest in bearing;
  • And this in every word we can confirm
  • By manifest proofs.
King.
  • That ye are Argives, this
  • My ear receives not; an unlikely tale!
  • Like Libyan women rather; not a line
  • I trace in you that marks our native race.
  • Nile might produce such daughters; ye do bear
  • A Cyprian character in your female features,
  • The impressed likeness of some plastic male. *
  • Of wandering Indians I have heard, that harness
  • Camels for mules, huge-striding, dwelling near
  • The swarthy Æthiop land; ye may be such;
  • Or, had ye war’s accoutrement, the bow,
  • Ye might be Amazons, stern, husband-hating,
  • Flesh-eating maids. But speak, that I may know
  • The truth. How vouch ye your descent from Argos?
Chorus.
  • They say that Io, on this Argive ground,
  • Erst bore the keys to Hera, 23 then ’tis said,
  • So runs the general rumour— 24
King.
  • I have heard.
  • Was it not so, Jove with the mortal maid
  • Mingled in love?
Chorus.
  • Even so; in love they mingled,
  • Deceiving Hera’s bed.
King.
  • And how then ended
  • The Olympian strife?
Chorus.
  • Enraged, the Argive goddess
  • To a heifer changed the maid.
King.
  • And the god came
  • To the fair horned heifer?
Chorus.
  • Like a leaping bull,
  • Transformed he came, 25 so the hoar legend tells.
King.

And what did then the potent spouse of Jove?

Chorus.

She sent a watchman ringed with eyes to watch.

King.

This all-beholding herdsman, who was he?

Chorus.

Argus the son of Earth, by Hermes slain.

King.

How further fared the ill-fated heifer, say?

Chorus.

A persecuting brize was sent to sting her.

King.

And o’er the wide earth goaded her the brize?

Chorus.

Just so, thy tale with mine accordant chimes.

King.

Then to Canopus, and to Memphis came she?

Chorus.

There, touched by Jove’s boon hand, she bore a son.

King.

The heifer’s boasted offspring, who was he?

Chorus.
  • Epaphus, who plainly with his name declares
  • His mother’s safety wrought by touch of Jove.
King.

* * * * 26

Chorus.

Libya, dowered with a fair land’s goodly name.

King.

And from this root divine what other shoots?

Chorus.

Belus, my father’s father, and my uncle’s.

King.

Who is thy honoured father?

Chorus.
  • Danaus;
  • And fifty sons his brother hath, my uncle.
King.

This brother who? Spare not to tell the whole.

Chorus.
  • Ægyptus. Now, O king, our ancient race
  • Thou knowest. Us from our prostration raising,
  • Thou raisest Argos
King.
  • Argives in sooth ye seem,
  • By old descent participant of the soil;
  • But by what stroke of sore mischance harsh-smitten,
  • Dared ye to wander from your native seats?
Chorus.
  • Pelasgian prince, a motley-threaded web
  • Is human woe; a wing of dappled plumes.
  • Past hope and faith it was that we, whose blood
  • From Argive Io flows, to Io’s city,
  • In startled flight, should measure back our way,
  • To escape from hated marriage.
King.
  • How say’st thou?
  • To escape from marriage thou art here, displaying
  • These fresh-cropt branches, snowy-wreathed, before
  • The Agonian gods?
Chorus
  • Ay! Never, never may we
  • Be thralled to Ægyptus’ sons!
King.
  • Speak’st thou of hate
  • To them, or of a bond your laws forbid?
Chorus.
  • Both this and that. 27 Who should be friends were foes,
  • And blood with blood near-mingled basely flows
King.

But branch on branch well grafted goodlier grows

Chorus.
  • Urge not this point; but rather think one word
  • From thee the wretched rescues.
King.
  • How then shall I
  • My friendly disposition show?
Chorus.
  • We ask
  • But this—from our pursuers save us.
King.
  • What!
  • Shall I for unknown exiles breed a war?
Chorus.

Justice will fight for him who fights for us.

King.
  • Doubtless; if Justice from the first hath stamped
  • Your cause for hers.
Chorus [ pointing to the altar ].

The state’s high poop here crowned Revere.

King.
  • This green environment of shade,
  • Mantling the seats of the gods I see, and shudder.
Chorus.

The wrath of suppliant Jove 28 is hard to bear.

  • STROPHE I.

  • O hear my cry, benignly hear!
  • Thou son of Palæcthon, hear me!
  • The fugitive wandering suppliant hear!
  • Thou king of Pelasgians, hear me!
  • Like a heifer young by the wolf pursued 29
  • O’er the rocks so cliffy and lonely,
  • And loudly it lows to the herdsman good,
  • Whose strength can save it only.
King
  • My eyes are tasked; there, ’neath the shielding shade
  • Of fresh-lopt branches I behold you clinging
  • To these Agonian gods; but what I do
  • Must spare the state from harm. I must provide
  • That no unlooked-for unprepared event
  • Beget new strife; of this we have enough.

ANTISTROPHE I.

Chorus.
  • Great Jove that allotteth their lot to all,
  • By his sentence of right shall clear thee,
  • Dread Themis that heareth the suppliants’ call,
  • No harm shall allow to come near thee.
  • Though I speak to the old with the voice of the young,
  • Do the will of the gods, and surely
  • Their favour to thee justly weighed shall belong,
  • When thy gifts thou offerest purely.
King.
  • Not at my hearth with precatory boughs
  • Ye lie. The state, if guilty taint from you
  • Affect the general weal, will for the state
  • Take counsel. I nor pledge nor promise give,
  • Till all the citizens hear what thou shalt say.

STROPHE II.

Chorus.
  • Thou art the state, and the people art thou, 30
  • The deed that thou doest who judges?
  • The hearth and the altar before thee bow,
  • The grace that thou grantest who grudges?
  • Thou noddest, the will that thou willest is thine,
  • Thy vote with no voter thou sharest;
  • The throne is all thine, and the sceptre divine,
  • And thy guilt, when thou sinnest, thou bearest.
King
  • Guilt lie on those that hate me! but your prayers
  • Harmless I may not hear; and to reject them
  • Were harsh. To do, and not to do alike
  • Perplex me; on the edge of choice I tremble.

ANTISTROPHE II.

Chorus.
  • Him worship who sitteth a watchman in Heaven,
  • And looks on this life of our labour;
  • Nor looketh in vain, when the wretched is driven
  • From the gate of his pitiless neighbour.
  • On our knees when we fall, and for mercy we call,
  • If his right thou deny to the stranger,
  • Jove shall look on thy home, from his thunder dome,
  • Sternly wrathful, the suppliants’ avenger.
King.
  • But if Ægyptus’ sons shall claim you, pleading
  • Their country’s laws, and their near kinship, who
  • Shall dare to stand respondent? You must plead
  • Your native laws, so the laws plead for you,
  • And speak you free from who would force your love.

STROPHE III.

Chorus.
  • Ah ne’er to the rough-handed youth let me yield,
  • But rather alone, ’neath the wide starry field,
  • Let me wander, an outcast, a stranger!
  • The ill-sorted yoke I abhor: and do thou,
  • With Justice to second thee, judge for me now,
  • And fear Him above, the Avenger!
King.
  • Not I shall judge: it is no easy judgment.
  • What I have said, I said. Without the people
  • I cannot do this thing; 31 being absolute king,
  • I would not. Justly, if mischance shall follow,
  • The popular tongue will blame the ruler, who,
  • To save the stranger, ruined his own flock.

ANTISTROPHE III.

Chorus.
  • Where kindred with kindred contendeth in war,
  • Jove looks on the strife, and decides from afar,
  • Where he holdeth the scales even-handed, *
  • O why wilt thou doubt to declare for the right?
  • He blesseth the good, but in anger will smite,
  • Where the sons of the wicked are banded.
King.
  • To advise for you in such confounding depths,
  • My soul should be a diver, to plunge down
  • Far in the pool profound with seeing eye,
  • And feel no dizziness. ’Tis no light matter
  • Here to unite your safety and the state’s.
  • If that your kindred claim you as their right,
  • And we withstand, a bloody strife ensues.
  • If from these altars of the gods we tear you,
  • Your chosen refuge, we shall surely bring
  • The all-destroying god, the stern Alastor, *
  • To house with us, whom not the dead in Hades
  • Can flee. Is here no cause to ponder well?

STROPHE I.

Chorus.
  • Ponder well,
  • With thee to dwell,
  • A righteous-minded host receive us!
  • Weary-worn,
  • Exiles lorn,
  • From the godless men that grieve us
  • Save to-day;
  • Nor cast-a-way
  • Homeless, houseless, hopeless leave us!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.

  • Shall rash assaulters
  • From these altars
  • Rudely drag the friendless stranger?
  • Thou art king,
  • ’Neath thy wing
  • Cowers in vain the weak from danger?
  • Thy terror show
  • To our fierce foe,
  • Fear, O fear our High Avenger!
  • STROPHE II.

  • Where they see
  • The gods and thee,
  • Shall their lawless will not falter?
  • Shall they tear
  • My floating hair,
  • As a horse dragged by the halter?
  • Wilt thou bear
  • Him to tear
  • My frontlets fair,
  • My linen robes—the bold assaulter?
  • ANTISTROPHE II.

  • One the danger,
  • If the stranger
  • Thou reject, or welcome wisely;
  • For thee and thine
  • To Mars a fine
  • Thou shalt pay the same precisely:
  • From Egypt far
  • Fearing war,
  • Thou shalt mar
  • Thy peace with mighty Jove, not wisely.
King.
  • Both ways I’m marred. Even here my wits are stranded.
  • With these or those harsh war to make, strong Force
  • Compels my will. Nailed am I like a vessel
  • Screwed to the dock, beneath the shipwright’s tool.
  • Which way I turn is woe. A plundered house
  • By grace of possessory Jove 32 may freight
  • New ships with bales that far outweigh the loss;
  • And a rash tongue that overshoots the mark
  • With barbéd phrase that harshly frets the heart,
  • With one smooth word, may charm the offence away.
  • But ere the sluice of kindred blood be opened,
  • With vows and victims we must pray the gods
  • Importunate, if perchance such fateful harm
  • They may avert. Myself were little wise
  • To mingle in this strife: of such a war
  • Most ignorant is most blest: but may the gods
  • Deceive my fears, and crown your hopes with blessing!
Chorus.

Now hear the end of my respectful prayers.

King.

I hear. Speak on. Thy words shall not escape me.

Chorus.

Thou see’st this sash, this zone my stole begirding.

King.

Fit garniture of women. Yes; I see it.

Chorus.

This zone well-used may serve us well.

King.

How so?

Chorus.

If thou refuse to pledge our safety, then—

King.

Thy zone shall pledge it how?

Chorus.
  • Thou shalt behold
  • These ancient altars with new tablets hung.
King.

Thou speak’st in riddles. Explain.

Chorus.
  • These gods shall see me
  • Here hanging from their shrines.
King.
  • Hush, maiden! Hush!
  • Thy words pierce through my marrow!
Chorus.
  • Thou hast heard
  • No blind enigma now. I gave it eyes.
King.
  • Alas! with vast environment of ills
  • I’m hedged all round. Misfortune, like a sea,
  • Comes rushing in: the deep unfathomed flood
  • I fear to cross, and find no harbour nigh.
  • Thy prayer if I refuse, black horror rises
  • Before me, that no highest-pointed aim
  • May overshoot. If posted fore these walls
  • I give thy kindred battle, I shall be
  • Amerced with bitter loss, who reckless dared
  • For woman’s sake to incarnadine the plain
  • With brave men’s blood. Yet I perforce must fear
  • The wrath of suppliant Jove, than which no terror
  • Awes human hearts more strongly. Take these branches,
  • Thou aged father of these maids, and place them
  • On other altars of the native gods,
  • Where they may speak, true heralds of thy mission,
  • To all the citizens: and, mark me, keep
  • My words within thy breast: for still the people
  • To spy a fault in whoso bears authority
  • Have a most subtle sight. Trust your good cause.
  • Thy pitiful tale may move their righteous ire
  • Against your haughty-hearted persecutors,
  • And ’neath their wings they’ll shield you. The afflicted
  • Plead for themselves: their natural due is kindness.
Danaus.
  • Your worth we know to prize, and at their weight
  • Our high protector’s friendly words we value.
  • But send, we pray, attendant guides to show us
  • The pillar-compassed seats divine, 33 the altars
  • That stand before their temples, who protect
  • This city and this land, and to insure
  • Our safety mid the people: for our coming
  • (Being strangers from the distant Nile, and not
  • Like you that drink the stream of Inachus
  • In features or in bearing) might seem strange.
  • Too bold an air might rouse suspicion; men
  • Oft-times have slain their best friends unawares.
King [ to the Attendants ].
  • See him escorted well! conduct him
  • hence
  • To the altars of the city, to the shrines
  • Of the protecting gods, wasting no speech
  • On whom you meet. Attend the suppliant stranger!

[ Exeunt Attendants with Danaus.

Chorus.
  • These words to him: and, with his sails well trimmed,
  • Fair be his voyage! But I, what shall I do,
  • My anchor where?
King.
  • Here leave these boughs that prove
  • Thy sorrows.
Chorus.
  • Here at thy rever’d command
  • I leave them.
King.

This ample wood shall shade thee; wait thou here!

Chorus.

No sacred grove is this how should it shield me?

King.

We will not yield thee to the vultures’ claws.

Chorus.

But worse than vultures, worse than dragons threat us.

King.

Gently. To fair words give a fair reply.

Chorus.

I’m terror-struck. Small marvel that I fret.

King.

Fear should be far, when I the king am near. *

Chorus.

With kind words cheer me, and kind actions too.

King.
  • Thy father will return anon, meanwhile
  • I go to call the assembly of the people, 34
  • And in thy favour move them, if I can.
  • Thy father, too, I’ll aptly train, how he
  • Should woo their favour. Wait ye here, and pray
  • The native gods to crown your heart’s desire
  • I go to speed the business; may Persuasion
  • And Chance, with happy issue pregnant, guide me!
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.

  • King of all kings, high-blest above
  • Each blest celestial nature,
  • Strength of the strong, all-glorious Jove,
  • All crowning Consummator! 35
  • Hear thou our prayer: the proud confound;
  • With hate pursue the hateful,
  • And plunge in purpling pools profound
  • The black-bench’d bark, the fateful!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.

  • Our ancient line from thee we trace
  • Our root divinely planted;
  • Look on these sisters with the grace
  • To that loved maid once granted,
  • Our mother Io; and renew
  • Sweet memory in the daughters
  • Of her thy gentle touch who knew
  • By Nile’s deep-rolling waters.
  • STROPHE II.

  • Here, even here, where ’mid the browsing kine,
  • My Argive mother fed her eye divine,
  • With rich mead’s flowery store,
  • My Libyan foot I’ve planted; hence by the brize 36
  • Divinely fretted with fitful oar she hies 37
  • From various shore to shore,
  • God-madded wanderer. Twice the billowy wave
  • She crossed; and twice her fated name she gave
  • To the wide sea’s straitened roar.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.

  • Spurred through the Asian land with swiftest speed
  • She fled, where Phrygian flocks far-pasturing feed
  • Then restless travelled o’er
  • Mysia, where Teuthras holds his fortress high,
  • Cilician and Pamphylian heights, and nigh
  • Where roaring waters pour
  • From fountains ever fresh their torrent floods,
  • And Aphrodite’s land whose loamy roods
  • Swell with the wheaten store. *
  • STROPHE III.

  • Thence by her wingéd keeper stung, she speeds
  • To the land divine, the many-nurturing meads,
  • And to the snow-fed stream,
  • Which like impetuous Typhon, vasty pours
  • Its purest waves, that the salubrious shores
  • From pestilent taint redeem.
  • Here from harsh Hera’s madly-goading pest,
  • From hattering chase of undeserved unrest,
  • At length by the holy stream
  • ANTISTROPHE III.

  • She rests. Pale terror smote their hearts who saw
  • The unwonted sight beheld with startled awe
  • The thronging sons of Nile;
  • Nor dared to approach this thing of human face, 38
  • Portentous-mingled with the lowing race,
  • Treading the Libyan soil.
  • Who then was he, the brize-stung Io’s friend,
  • With charms of soothing virtue strong to end
  • Her weary-wandering toil?
  • STROPHE IV.

  • Jove, mighty Jove, Heaven’s everlasting king,
  • He soft-inspiring came,
  • And with fond force innocuous heals her ills;
  • She from her eyes in lucent drops distils
  • The stream of sorrowful shame,
  • And in her womb from Jove a burden bore,
  • A son of blameless fame,
  • Who with his prosperous life long blessed the Libyan shore
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.

  • Far-pealed the land with jubilant shout—from Jove,
  • From Jove it surely came,
  • This living root of a far-branching line!
  • For who but Jove prevailed, with power divine,
  • Harsh Hera’s wrath to tame?
  • Such the great work of Jove; and we are such,
  • O Jove, our race who claim
  • From him whose name declares the virtue of thy touch.
  • STROPHE V.

  • For whom more justly shall my hymn be chaunted
  • Than thee, above all gods that be, high-vaunted,
  • Root of my race, great Jove;
  • Prime moulder from whose plastic-touching hand
  • Life leaps: thine ancient-minded counsels stand,
  • Thou all-devising Jove.
  • ANTISTROPHE V.

  • High-throned above the highest as the lowest,
  • Beyond thee none, and mightier none thou knowest,
  • The unfearing, all-feared one.
  • When his deep thought takes counsel to fulfil,
  • No dull delays clog Jove’s decided will, 39
  • He speaks, and it is done.

Enter Danaus.

Danaus.
  • Be of good cheer, my daughters! All is well,
  • The popular voice hath perfected our prayers.
Chorus.
  • Hail father, bearer of good news: but say,
  • How was the matter stablished? and how far
  • Prevailed the people’s uplifted hands to save us?
Danaus.
  • Not doubtingly, but with a bold decision,
  • That made my old heart young again to see’t.
  • With one acclaim, a forest of right hands
  • Rose through the hurtled air. These Libyan exiles—
  • So ran the popular will—shall find a home
  • In Argos, free, and from each robber hand
  • Inviolate, the native or the stranger,
  • And, whoso holding Argive land refuses
  • To shield these virgins from the threatened force,
  • Disgrace shall brand him, and the popular vote
  • Oust him from Argos. Such response the king
  • Persuasive forced, with wise admonishment;
  • Urging the wrath of Jove, which else provoked
  • Would fatten on our woes, and the twin wrong
  • To you the stranger, and to them the city,
  • Pollution at their gate, a fuel to feed
  • Ills without end. These words the Argive people
  • Answered with suffragating hands, nor waited
  • The herald’s call to register their votes:
  • Just eloquence ruled their willing ear, and Jove
  • Crowned their fair purpose with the perfect deed.

[ Exit.

Chorus.
  • Come then, sisters, pour we freely
  • Grateful prayers for Argive kindness;
  • Jove, the stranger’s friend, befriend us,
  • While from stranger’s mouth sincerest
  • Here we voice the hymn,
  • To a blameless issue, surely,
  • Jove will guide the fate.
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.

  • Jove-born gods, benignly bending,
  • Look, we pray, with eyes befriending,
  • On these Argive halls!
  • Ne’er may Mars, the wanton daring,
  • With his shrill trump, joyless-blaring,
  • Wrap, in wild flames, fiercely flaring,
  • These Pelasgian walls!
  • Go! thy gory harvest reaping
  • Far from us: thy bloody weeping
  • Distant tribes may know.
  • Bless, O Jove, this Argive nation!
  • They have heard the supplication
  • Of thy suppliants low;
  • Where the swooping Fate abased us,
  • They with Mercy’s vote upraised us
  • From the prostrate woe!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.

  • Not with the male, the stronger, erring,
  • But, woman’s weaker cause preferring,
  • Stood their virtue proof:
  • Wisely Jove, the Avenger, fearing,
  • To the chastened eye appearing,
  • High his front of wrath up-rearing
  • ’Gainst the guilty roof.
  • For heavily, heavily weighs the Alastor,
  • Scapeless, and, with sore disaster,
  • Sinks the sinner low.
  • Bless, O Jove, this Argive nation,
  • That knew their kindred’s supplication,
  • And saved them from the foe:
  • And when their vows they pay, then surely
  • Gifts from clean hands offered purely
  • Thou in grace shalt know.
  • STROPHE II.

  • High these suppliant branches raising,
  • Sisters, ancient Argos praising,
  • Pour the grateful strain!
  • Far from thy Pelasgian portals
  • Dwell black Plague, from drooping mortals
  • Ebbing life to drain!
  • May’st thou see the crimson river
  • From fierce home-bred slaughter, never
  • Flowing o’er thy plain!
  • Far from thee the youth-consuming
  • Blossom-plucking strife!
  • The harsh spouse of Aphrodite,
  • Furious Mars in murder mighty,
  • Where he sees thy beauty blooming,
  • Spare his blood-smeared knife!
  • ANTISTROPHE II

  • May a reverend priesthood hoary
  • Belt thy shrines, their chiefest glory,
  • With an holy band!
  • By the bountiful libation,
  • By the blazing pile, this nation
  • Shall securely stand.
  • Jove, the great All-ruler, fearing,
  • Jove, the stranger’s stay, revering,
  • Ye shall save the land;
  • Jove, sure-throned above all cavil,
  • Rules by ancient right,
  • May just rulers never fail thee!
  • Holy Hecate’s aid avail thee, 40
  • To thy mothers when in travail
  • Sending labours light!
  • STROPHE III.

  • May no wasting march of ruin
  • Work, O Argos, thine undoing!
  • Never may’st thou hear
  • Cries of Mars, the shrill, the lyreless!
  • Ne’er may tearful moans, and quireless,
  • Wake the sleeper’s ear!
  • Far from thee the shapes black-trooping
  • Of disease, delightless-drooping!
  • May the blazing death-winged arrow
  • Of the Sun-god spare the marrow
  • Of thy children dear!
  • ANTISTROPHE III.

  • Mighty Jove, the gracious giver,
  • With his full-sheaved bounty ever
  • Crown the fruited year!
  • Flocks that graze before thy dwelling
  • With rich increase yearly swelling
  • The prosperous ploughman cheer!
  • May the gods no grace deny thee,
  • And the tuneful Muses nigh thee,
  • With exuberant raptures brimming,
  • From virgin throats thy praises hymning
  • Hold the charmèd ear!
  • STROPHE IV.

  • O’er the general weal presiding,
  • They that rule with far-providing
  • Wisdom sway, and stably-guiding,
  • Changeful counsels mar!
  • Timely with each foreign nation
  • Leagues of wise conciliation
  • Let them join, fierce wars avoiding,
  • From sharp losses far!
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.

  • The native gods, strong to deliver,
  • With blood of oxen free-poured ever,
  • With laurel-branches failing never,
  • Piously adore!
  • Honour thy parents: spurn not lightly
  • This prime statute sanctioned rightly,
  • Cling to this, a holy liver,
  • Steadfast evermore!

Re-enter Danaus.

Danaus.
  • Well hymned, my daughters! I commend your prayers;
  • But brace your hearts, nor fear, though I, your father,
  • Approach the bearer of unlooked-for news.
  • For from this consecrated hold of gods
  • I spy the ship; too gallantly it peers
  • To cheat mine eye. The sinuous sail I see,
  • The bulging fence-work on each side, 41 the prow
  • Fronted with eyes to track its watery way, 42
  • True to the steerman’s hint that sits behind,
  • And with no friendly bearing On the deck
  • Appear the crew, their swarthy limbs more swart
  • By snow-white vests revealed: a goodly line
  • Of succour in the rear: but in the van
  • The admiral ship, with low-furled sail makes way
  • By the swift strokes of measured-beating oars.
  • Wait calmly ye, and with well-counselled awe
  • Cling to the gods; the while ye watch their coming,
  • Myself will hence, and straight return with aid
  • To champion our need. 43 For I must look for
  • Some herald or ambassador claiming you,
  • Their rightful prey, forthwith; but fear ye not,
  • Their harsh will may not be. This warning take
  • Should we with help be slow, remain you here
  • Nor leave these gods, your strength. Faint not: for surely
  • Comes the appointed hour, and will not stay,
  • When godless men to Jove just fine shall pay.

STROPHE I.

Chorus.
  • Father, I tremble, lest the fleet-winged ships,
  • Ere thou return, shall land—soon—very soon!
  • O father, I tremble to stay, and not flee,
  • When the bands of the ruthless are near!
  • My flight to foreclose from the chase of my foes!
  • O father, I faint for fear!
Danaus.
  • Fear not, my children. The accomplished vote
  • Of Argos saves you. They are champions sworn.

ANTISTROPHE I.

Chorus.
  • They come—destruction’s minions mad with hate,
  • Of fight insatiate: well thou know’st the men.
  • With their host many-counted, their ships dark-fronted, 44
  • They are near, O father, how near!
  • Their ships stoutly-timbered, their crews swarthy-membered,
  • Triumphant in wrath I fear!
Danaus.
  • Even let them come. They’ll find their match in Argos;
  • A strong-limbed race with noon-day sweats well hardened. 45

STROPHE II.

Chorus.
  • Only not leave me! Pray thee, father, stay!
  • Weak is a lonely woman. No Mars is in her. 46
  • Dark-counselled, false, cunning-hearted are they,
  • Unholy, as obscene crows
  • On the feast of the altar that filthily prey;
  • They fear not the gods, my foes!
Danaus.
  • ’Twill make our cause the stronger, daughters, if
  • Their crime be sacrilege, and their foes the gods.

ANTISTROPHE II.

Chorus.
  • The trident and the sacred blazonry
  • Will not repel their violent hands, O father!
  • They are proud, haughty-hearted, a high-blown race;
  • They are hot, they are mad for the fray!
  • With the hound in their heart, and the dog in their face,
  • They will tear from the altar their prey.
Danaus.
  • Dogs let them be, the world has wolves to master them!
  • And good Greek corn is better than papyrus. 47
Chorus.
  • Being reasonless as brutes, unholy monsters,
  • And spurred with wrath we must beware their fury.
Danaus.
  • ’Tis no light work to land a fleet. To find
  • Safe roads, sure anchorage, and to make fast
  • The cables, this not with mere thought is done.
  • The shepherds of the ships 48 are slow to feel
  • Full confidence, the more that on this coast
  • Harbours are few. 49 Besides, thou see’st the sun
  • Slants to the night; and still a prudent pilot
  • Fears in the dark. No man will disembark,
  • Trust me, till all are firmly anchored. Thou
  • Through all thy terrors still cling to the gods,
  • Thy most sure stay. Thy safety’s pledged. For me
  • I’m old, but with the tongue of fluent youth
  • I’ll speak for thee, a pleader without blame.

[ Exit.

  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.

  • O hilly land, high-honoured land,
  • What wait we now, poor fugitive band?
  • Some dark, dark cave
  • Show me, within thy winding strand,
  • To hide and save!
  • Would I might vanish in smoke, ascending
  • To Heaven, with Jove’s light clouds dim-blending
  • In misty air,
  • Like wingless, viewless dust, and ending
  • In nothing there!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.

  • ’Tis more than heart may bear. Quick Fear
  • My quaking life with dusky drear
  • Alarm surroundeth!
  • My father spied my ruin: sheer
  • Despair confoundeth.
  • Sooner, high-swung from fatal rope,
  • Here may I end both life and hope,
  • And strong Death bind me,
  • Than hated hearts shall reach their scope,
  • And shame shall find me!
  • STROPHE II.

  • Would I were throned in ether high,
  • Where snows are born, and through the sky
  • The white rack skurries! Would that I
  • Might sit sublime
  • On a hanging cliff where lone winds sigh, 50
  • Where human finger never showed
  • The far-perched vultures’ drear abode,
  • Nor goat may climb!
  • Thence sheer to leap, and end for ever
  • My life and name,
  • Ere forceful hands this heart deliver
  • To married shame!
  • ANTISTROPHE II.

  • There, where no friendly foot may stray,
  • There let me lie, my limbs a prey
  • To dogs and birds: I not gainsay:
  • ’Twas wisely said,
  • Free from much woe who dies to-day
  • Shall be to-morrow. Rather than wedded
  • To whom I hate, let me be bedded
  • Now with the dead!
  • Or if there be, my life to free,
  • A way, declare it,
  • Ye gods!—a surgeon’s cut for me,
  • My heart shall bear it!
  • STROPHE III.

  • Voice ye your sorrow! with the cry
  • Of doleful litany pierce the sky!
  • For freedom, for quick rescue cry
  • To him above!
  • Ruler of Earth, look from thy throne,
  • With eyes of love!
  • These deeds of violence wilt thou own,
  • Nor know thy prostrate suppliant’s groan,
  • Almighty Jove?
  • ANTISTROPHE III.

  • Ægyptus’ sons, a haughty race,
  • Follow my flight with sleepless chase,
  • With whoop and bay they scent my trace
  • To force my love
  • Thy beam is true; both good and ill
  • Thy sure scales prove,
  • Thou even-handed! Mortals still
  • Reap fair fulfilment from thy will,
  • All-crowning Jove.

Chorus, in separate voices, and short hurried exclamations: 51

Voice 1.
  • Ah me! he lands! he leaps ashore!
  • He strides with ruffian hands to hale us!
Voice 2.
  • Cry, sisters, cry! swift help implore!
  • If here to cry may aught avail us!
Voice 3.
  • Ah me! ’tis but the muffled roar
  • Of forceful storms soon to assail us!
Voice 1.

Flee to the gods! to the altars cling!

Voice 2.
  • By sea, by land, the ruthless foe
  • Grimly wantons in our woe!
Voice 3.

Beneath thy wing shield us, O king!

Enter Herald.

Herald.
  • Hence to the ships! to the good ships fare ye! 52
  • Swiftly as your feet may bear ye!
Chorus.
  • Tear us! tear us!
  • Rend us rather,
  • Torture and tear us!
  • From this body
  • Cut the head!
  • Gorily gather
  • Us to the dead!
Herald.
  • Hence to the ships, away! away!
  • A curse on you, and your delay!
  • O’er the briny billowy way
  • Thou shalt go to-day, to-day!
  • Wilt thou stand, a mulish striver,
  • I can spur, a forceful driver;
  • Deftly, deftly, thou shalt trip
  • To the stoutly-timbered ship!
  • If to yield thou wilt not know,
  • Gorily, gorily thou shalt go!
  • An’ thou be not madded wholly,
  • Know thy state, and quit thy folly!
Chorus.

Help, ho! help, ho! help!

Herald.
  • To the ships! to the ships away with me!
  • These gods of Argos what reck we?
Chorus.
  • Never, O never
  • The nurturing river,
  • Of life the giver,
  • The healthful flood
  • That quickens the blood
  • Let me behold!
  • An Argive am I, *
  • From Inachus old,
  • These gods deny
  • Thy claim. Withhold!
Herald.
  • To the ships, to the ships, with march not slow,
  • Will ye, nill ye, ye must go!
  • Quickly, quickly, hence away!
  • Know thy master and obey!
  • Ere a worse thing thou shalt know—
  • Blows and beating—gently go!

STROPHE I.

Chorus.
  • Worse than worsest
  • May’st thou know!
  • As thou cursest,
  • Curst be so!
  • The briny billow
  • O’er thee flow!
  • On sandy pillow
  • Bedded low,
  • ’Neath Sarpedon’s breezy brow, *
  • With the shifting sands shift thou!
Herald.
  • Scream—rend your robes in rags!—call on the gods!
  • The Egyptian bark thou shalt not overleap.
  • Pour ye the bitter bootless wail at will!

ANTISTROPHE I.

Chorus.
  • With fierce heart swelling
  • To work my woe,
  • With keen hate yelling
  • Barks the foe.
  • Broad Nile welling
  • O’er thee flow!
  • Find thy dwelling
  • Bedded low,
  • ’Neath the towering Libyan waters,
  • Towering thou ’gainst Libya’s daughters!
Herald.
  • To the ships! to the ships! the swift ships even-oared!
  • Quickly! no laggard shifts! the hand that drags thee
  • Will lord it o’er thy locks, not gently handled!

STROPHE II.

Chorus.
  • O father, oh!
  • From the altar
  • The assaulter
  • Drags me to my woe!
  • Step by step, a torturing guider,
  • Like the slowly-dragging spider,
  • Cruel-minded so
  • Like a dream,
  • A dusky dream,
  • My hope away doth go!
  • O Earth, O Earth,
  • From death redeem!
  • O Earth, O Jove deliver!
Herald.
  • Your Argive gods I know not; they nor nursed
  • My infant life, nor reared my riper age.

ANTISTROPHE II.

Chorus.
  • O father, oh!
  • From the altar
  • The assaulter
  • Drags me to my woe!
  • A snake two-footed fiercely fretted
  • Swells beside me! from his whetted
  • Fangs, black death doth flow!
  • Like a dream,
  • A dusky dream,
  • My hope is vanished so!
  • O Earth, O Earth,
  • From death redeem!
  • O Earth, O Jove deliver!
Herald.
  • To the ships! to the ships! Obey! I say, obey!
  • Pity thy robes, if not thy flesh—away!

STROPHE III.

Chorus.
  • Ye chiefs of the city,
  • By force they subdue me!
Herald.
  • Well! I must drag thee by the hair! come! come!
  • Point thy dull ears, and hear me!—come! come! come!

ANTISTROPHE III.

Chorus.
  • I’m lost! I’m ruined!
  • O king, they undo me!
Herald.
  • Thou shalt see kings enough anon, believe me,
  • Ægyptus’ sons—kingless thou shalt not die.

Enter King with Attendants.

King.
  • Fellow, what wouldst thou? With what purpose here
  • Dost flout this land of brave Pelasgian men?
  • Deem’st thou us women? A barbarian truly
  • Art thou, if o’er the Greek to sport it thus
  • The fancy tempts thee. Nay, but thou art wrong
  • Both root and branch in this
Herald.

How wrong? Speak plainly.

King.
  • Thou art a stranger here, and dost not know
  • As a stranger how to bear thee.
Herald.
  • This I know,
  • I lost my own, and what I lost I found.
King.

Thy patrons * who, on this Pelasgian ground?

Herald.
  • To find stray goods the world all over, Hermes
  • Is prince of patrons 53
King.
  • Hermes is a god,
  • Thou, therefore, fear the gods
Herald.
  • And I do fear
  • The gods of the Nile.
King.

We too have gods in Argos.

Herald.
  • So be it: but, in Argos or in Africk,
  • My own’s my own
King.
  • Who touches these reaps harm,
  • And that right soon
Herald.
  • No friendly word thou speak’st,
  • To welcome strangers.
King.
  • Strangers are welcome here;
  • But not to spoil the gods.
Herald.
  • These words of thine
  • To Ægyptus’ sons be spoken, not to me
King.

I take no counsel, or from them, or thee.

Herald.
  • Thou—who art thou? for I must plainly make
  • Rehearsal to my masters—this my office
  • Enforces—both by whom, and why, unjustly
  • I of this kindred company of women
  • Am robbed. A serious strife it is; no bandying
  • Of words from witnesses, no silver passed
  • From hand to hand will lay such ugly strife;
  • But man for man must fall, and noblest souls
  • Must dash their lives away.
King.
  • For what I am,
  • You, and your shipmates, soon enough shall know me
  • These maids, if with the softly suasive word
  • Thou canst prevail, are thine; to force we never
  • Will yield the suppliant sisters; thus the people
  • With one acclaim have voted; ’tis nailed down
  • Thus to the letter. So it must remain.
  • Thou hast my answer, not in tablets graven,
  • Or in the volumed scroll, all stamped and sealed,
  • But from a free Greek mouth. Dost understand me?
  • Hence quickly from my sight!
Herald.
  • Of this be sure,
  • A war thou stirrest, in which, when once begun,
  • The males will be the stronger.
King.
  • We, too, have males
  • In Argos, lusty-blooded men, who drink
  • Good wine, not brewed from barley. * As for you,
  • Ye virgins, fearless follow where these guides
  • Shall lead. Our city strongly girt with wall,
  • And high-reared tower receives you. We can boast
  • Full many a stately mansion; stateliest piled
  • My palace stands, work of no feeble hands.
  • Right pleasant ’tis in populous floors to lodge
  • With many a fellow-tenant: some will find
  • A greater good in closely severed homes,
  • That have no common gates: of these thou hast
  • The ample choice: take what shall like thee most
  • Know me thy patron, and in all things know
  • My citizens thy shield, whose vote hath pledged
  • Thy safety; surer guarantee what wouldst thou?
Chorus.
  • Blessing for thy blessing given,
  • Flow to thee, divine Pelasgian!
  • But for our advisal forthwith
  • Send, we pray thee, for our father;
  • He the firm, the far foreseeing,
  • How to live, and where to lodge us,
  • Duly shall direct. For ever
  • Quick to note the faults of strangers
  • Sways the general tongue; though we
  • Hope all that’s good and best from thee.
King [ to the attendant maids ]:
  • Likewise you, ye maids attendant
  • For his daughters’ service, wisely
  • Portioned by the father, here
  • Be your home secure,
  • Far from idle-bruited babblings,
  • ’Neath my wing to dwell!

Enter Danaus, attended by an Argive guard.

Danaus.
  • Daughters! if so the Olympian gods deserve
  • Your sacrifices, your libations, surely
  • Argos no less may claim them! Argos truly
  • Your Saviour in worst need! With eager ears
  • They drank my tale, indignant the foul deeds
  • Of our fell-purposed cousinship they heard,
  • And for my guard this goodly band they set me
  • Of strong spear-bearing men, lest being slain
  • By the lurking lance of some insidious foe
  • My death bring shame to Argos. Such high honor,
  • From hearts where kindness moves the friendly deed,
  • They heaped the sire withal, that you, the daughters,
  • In father’s stead should own them. For the rest,
  • To the chaste precepts graven on your heart
  • That oft I gave, one timely warning add,
  • That time, which proveth all, approve your lives
  • Before this people; for ’gainst the stranger, calumny
  • Flows deftly from the tongue, and cheap traducement
  • Costs not a thought. I charge ye, therefore, daughters,
  • Your age being such that turns the eyes of men
  • To ready gaze, in all ye do consult
  • Your father’s honor: such ripe bloom as yours
  • No careless watch demands: so fair a flower
  • Wild beasts and men, monsters of all degrees,
  • Winged and four-footed, wantonly will tear.
  • Her luscious-dropping fruits the Cyprian * hangs
  • In the general view, and publishes their praise; 54
  • That whoso passes, and beholds the pomp
  • Of shapeliest beauty, feels the charmed dart
  • That shoots from eye to eye, and vanquished falls
  • By strong desire. Give, therefore, jealous heed
  • That our long toils, and ploughing the deep sea
  • Not fruitless fall; but be your portment such
  • As breeds no shame to us, nor to our enemies
  • Laughter. A double lodgment for our use,
  • One from the state, the other from the king,
  • Rentless we hold. All things look bright. This only,
  • Your father’s word, remember. More than life
  • Hold a chaste heart in honor.
Chorus.
  • The high Olympians
  • Grant all thy wish! For us and our young bloom,
  • Fear nothing, father: for unless the gods
  • Have forged new counsels, we ev’n to the end
  • Will tread the trodden path, and will not bend.

CHORAL HYMN. 55
STROPHE I.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Lift ye the solemn hymn!
  • High let your pæans brim!
  • Praise in your strain
  • Gods that in glory reign
  • High o’er the Argive plain,
  • High o’er each castled hold,
  • Where Erasinus old *
  • Winds to the main!
Semi-Chorus 2 [ to the attendant maids ]:
  • Sing, happy maids, with me!
  • Loud with responsive glee
  • Voice ye the strain!
  • Praise ye the Argive shore,
  • Praise holy Nile no more,
  • Wide where his waters roar,
  • Mixed with the main!

ANTISTROPHE I.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Lift ye the solemn hymn!
  • High let your pæans brim!
  • Praise in your strain
  • Torrents that bravely swell
  • Fresh through each Argive dell,
  • Broad streams that lazily
  • Wander, and mazily
  • Fatten the plain.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • Sing, sisters, sing with me
  • Artemis chaste! may she
  • List to the strain!
  • Never, O never may
  • Marriage with fearful sway
  • Bind me; nor I obey
  • Hatefullest chain!

STROPHE II.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Yet, mighty praise be thine 56
  • Cyprian queen divine!
  • Hera, with thee I join,
  • Nearest to Jove.
  • Subtly conceiving all,
  • Wiseliest weaving all,
  • Thy will achieving all
  • Nobly by love!
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • With thee Desire doth go;
  • Peitho, * with suasive flow
  • Bending the willing foe,
  • Marches with thee.
  • Lovely Harmonia 57
  • Knows thee, and, smote with awc,
  • Strong kings obey the law
  • Whispered by thee.

STROPHE IV.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Yet must I fear the chase, 58
  • Sail spread in evil race,
  • War with a bloody pace
  • Spurred after me.
  • Why to this Argive shore
  • Came they with plashing oar,
  • If not with sorrow’s store
  • Treasured for me?
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • Comes fated good or ill,
  • Wait we in patience still!
  • No power may thwart his will
  • Jove, mighty Jove.
  • Laden with sorrow’s store
  • Virgins in days of yore
  • Praised, when their grief was o’er,
  • Jove, mighty Jove.
Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Jove, mighty Jove, may he
  • From wedded force for me
  • Rescue prepare!
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • Fair fall our maiden lot!
  • But mighty Jove may not
  • Yield to thy prayer.
Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Know’st thou what woes may be
  • Stored yet by Fate for me?
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • Jove and his hidden plan
  • Sight of the sharpest man
  • Searcheth in vain;
  • Thou in thy narrow span
  • Wisely remain!
Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Wisely my thought may fare
  • Tell me, O tell me where?
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • ’Gainst what the gods ordain
  • Fret not thy heart in vain

STROPHE

Semi-Chorus 1
  • Save me, thou chief of gods, great Jove,
  • From violent bonds of hated love,
  • Even as the Inachian maid of yore
  • Thy hand set free from labour sore,
  • What time thou soothed with touch divine
  • Her weary frame,
  • And with a friendly force benign
  • Thy healing came.

ANTISTROPHE.

Semi-Chorus 2.
  • May the woman’s cause prevail!
  • And, when two certain ills assail,
  • Be ours the less: and Justice fair
  • For the just shall still declare.
  • Ye mighty gods o’er human fates
  • Supremely swaying,
  • On you my prayer, my fortune waits,
  • Your will obeying.

NOTES TO THE SUPPLIANTS

THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES
A LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE

PERSONS

Eteocles, Son of Oedipus.

Messenger.

Chorus of Theban Virgins.

Ismene, } Sisters of Eteocles.

Antigone, } Sisters of Eteocles.

Herald.

Scene The Acropolis of Thebes.

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

One of the most indisputable laws of the moral world, and, when seriously considered, perhaps the most awful one, is that principle of hereditary dependence, which connects the sins of one generation, and often of one individual, by an indissoluble bond, with the fortunes of another. In the closely compacted machinery of the moral world no man can be ignorant, or foolish, or vicious to himself. The most isolated individual by the very act of his existence, as he necessarily inhales, so he likewise exhales, a social atmosphere, either healthy so far, or so far unhealthy, for the race. Nothing in the world is independent either of what co-exists with it, or of what precedes it. The present, in particular, is everywhere at once the child of the past, and the parent of the future. It is no doubt true that a foolish father does not always beget a foolish son. There are counteracting influences constantly at work to prevent the fatal tendency to degeneration, of which Horace speaks so feelingly—

  • Aetas parentum pejor avis tulit
  • Nos nequiores, mox daturos
  • Progeniem vitiosiorem,

but the “ Delicta majorum immeritus lues ” of the same poet remains a fearful reality in the daily administration of the world, which no serious-thinking man can afford to disregard. In the ancient law of Moses, as in the most famous systems of Christian theology, this principle plays a prominent part; and awful as its operation is, often sweeping whole generations into ruin, and smiting whole nations with a chronic leprosy, for the folly or extravagance of an ephemeral individual, we shall not be surprised to find it equally conspicuous in the literature of so subtle a people as the Greeks. The Hellenic mind, no doubt, was too sunny and too healthy to allow itself to be encased and imprisoned with this idea, as with an iron mail; but as a mysterious dark background of moral existence it was recognised in its highest power, and nowhere so distinctly, and with such terrible iteration, as in those lyrical exhibitions of solemn, religious, and legendary faith, which we call tragedy.

Among the other serious ethico-religious legends with which the scanty remains of the rich Greek tragedy have made us more familiar, the dark fates of two famous families—the Pelopidae and the Labdacidae—force themselves upon our attention with a marked distinctness. How the evil genius (ἀλάστωρ) of inherited guilt revealed itself in the blood-stained track of the descendants of Tantalus we have seen on the large scale of a complete trilogy in the first volume; the play to which we now introduce the reader is an exhibition of the same stern law of moral concatenation, in one of the scenes of the dark story of the Theban family of the Labdacidae. Labdacus, the father of this unfortunate race, is traced back in the legendary genealogy to the famous Phœnician settler, Cadmus, being removed from him by only one generation. * This head of the family appears tainted with no moral guilt of an extraordinary kind; but his son Laius figures in the legend, not like Pelops in the Pelopidan story, as a murderer, but as a licentious and a lustful character. Yielding to the violent impulses of unnatural passion, he is said to have carried off from Elis, Chrysippus, the son of Pelops; whereupon the injured father pronounced against the unholy ravisher the appropriate curse that he should die childless, or, if he did beget children, that himself should lose his life by the hands of those to whom he had been the means of giving it. We see here exemplified that grand principle of retaliation ( lex talionis ), “ An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, ” which stands out so prominently in the laws of Moses, and is so agreeable to the moral instincts of the human heart. Laius was to perish by his own progeny, because, in the irregular gratification of the procreative instinct, he had sinned against Nature The curse spoken against him by Pelops was the wrathful expression of one of Nature’s greatest laws; in whatever way we seek violently to obtain happiness contrary to the sober course of the divine arrangements, in that way we are sure with our own hands to work our own destruction. This is inevitable. Accordingly, that the direct sanction of the gods might be added to the utterance of an aggrieved human heart, the legend represents the lustful offender as consulting the oracle of Delphi, whether he might not with safety disregard the imprecation of Pelops, and beget children by his wife Iocaste (called Epicaste in Homer, Od. XI. 271); and receiving the ominous answer—

  • Sow not the seed of children, in despite
  • Of the gods: for if thou shalt beget a son,
  • Him who begat shall the begotten slay,
  • And all thy house in bloody ruin perish. *

But the divine oracle, as was to have been expected from the character of the questioner, was given in vain. Laius had consulted the oracle not that he might know and obey the divine will, but that he might, if possible, escape from the terrible consequences of the curse of Pelops, and yet gratify his natural desire of having offspring. The result was natural In a moment of forgetfulness, induced by the free use of that mother of many evils, wine, he neglected the divine warning; and, from his fatal embrace, a child was born, destined in the course of the accomplishment of the ancient curse, both to suffer many monstrous misfortunes in his own person, and to transmit guilt and misery to another generation. This child was Oedipus, so named from the piercing of his feet by nails, and subsequent exposure on Mount Cithaeron, a device contrived by his father, in order to escape the fulfilment of the divine oracle But it is not possible, as Homer frequently inculcates, to deceive the mind of the gods. The helpless infant, the child of destiny, is found (like Romulus), by some shepherds, and by them taken to Polybus king of Corinth. Here the foundling is brought up as the son of that monarch; but, on one occasion, being taunted by some of his youthful comrades with the reproach that he is not really the son of Polybus, but a fatherless foundling, he goes forth to the oracle of Delphi, and to the wide world, to clear up what had been more wisely left in the dark; and here his god-sent misfortunes overtake him, and the evil genius of his father drives the innocent son blindfold into inevitable woe. The Pythoness, according to her wont, returned an answer more doubtful than the question. Oedipus was told not who his father was, but that a dark destiny hung over him, to kill his father, and to commit incest with his mother. Knowing no parents but those whom he had left at Corinth, he proceeded on his wanderings, in a direction the opposite of that by which he had come; and, on the road between Delphi and Daulis, met a person of consequence, with a charioteer and an attendant, in a car. The charioteer immediately ordered the foot traveller, somewhat insolently, after the manner of aristocratic satellites, to get out of the way; which rudeness the hot youth resenting, a scuffle ensued, in which the charioteer and his master were slain, while the attendant fled. The murdered prince was Laius; and Oedipus, unwittingly, nay, doing everything he could to elude the fate, had slain his own father. But the ancient Fury, for a season, concealed her vengeance, and allowed a brief glory to be shed round her victim, that he might thereafter be plunged in more terrible darkness. The Sphynx, a monstrous creature, of Egyptian birth, half virgin, half lion, had been sent by wrathful Mars, to desolate the Theban country, devouring, with her bloody jaws, whosoever could not solve her famous riddle. When depopulation proceeded at a fearful rate from this cause, the Thebans promised locaste, the widow of Laius, and queen of the country, in marriage, to him who should succeed in explaining the enigma Oedipus was successful; and, becoming king of Thebes, was married, in ignorance, to his own mother. Thus the net of destiny was drawn closer and closer round its victim; but the hour of doom was not yet come. Joined in this unnatural wedlock, the unfortunate son of Laius became the father of two sons, Eteocles and Polynices, and of two daughters, Antigone and Ismene. Circumstances (which Sophocles narrates in his Oedipus Tyrannus) afterwards bringing the story of Oedipus’ life and the nature of his connection with locaste to light, the unfortunate old king looking upon himself as an object of hatred to the gods, and unworthy to look upon the day, tore out his eyes, and was confined by his sons—whether from cruelty or superstition—in a separate house, and treated otherwise in a manner that appeared to him disrespectful and unkind. * Enraged at this treatment, he pronounced an imprecation against them, that they should one day divide their inherited land by steel; whereupon they, to render any hostile collision impossible, made an agreement to exercise kingly authority over the whole Theban territory, each for a year at a time, while the other should leave the country. Eteocles, as the elder, reigned first; but when the appointed term came round, like other holders of power, he showed himself loath to quit; and Polynices, fleeing to Argos, sought assistance from Adrastus, king of that country. This prince, along with the Ætolian Tydeus, the father of Diomede, and other chiefs, marched against Thebes with a great armament, in order to force Eteocles to yield the yearly tenure of the throne to his brother, according to agreement. The appearance of this armament before the gates of the Cadmean city, and its sad issue, in the death, by their own hands, of the two hostile brothers, form the subject of the present play.

From this rapid sketch, the reader will see plainly that the dismal story of Laius and Oedipus, and his children, affords materials for a whole series of tragedies; and that, in fact, “ The Seven against Thebes ” is only one of the last acts of a great consecutive legendary history, of which each part is necessary to explain the other. This close connection of the subjects naturally suggests the question, whether our play, as we now have it, stood alone in dramatic representation, or whether it was not—like other pieces in this volume—only a subordinate part of a large dramatic whole. We know for certain that Æschylus wrote at least four plays, besides the present, of which the materials were taken from the cycle of this Theban legend—namely, Laius, Oedipus, The Sphynx, and the Eleusinians; * and it has been not unplausibly conjectured that some of his other plays, of which the names are preserved, belong to the same series In what precise connection, however, the existing play stood to any of the rest in actual representation, there were, till very recently, no satisfactory means of judging; and accordingly no scanty wealth of erudite speculation (after the German fashion), made to look like science, was spent upon the subject. Now, at length it has been announced, that the διδασκαλία, containing the actual order of representation of four of these plays, has been discovered; and, if the document be genuine, we are enabled to assert that, in the 78th Olympiad, Æschylus gained the tragic prize with the tetralogy, of Laius, Oedipus, The Seven Against Thebes, and the Sphynx, a satiric drama.

With regard to the merits of the present piece, while its structure exhibits, in the most striking manner, the deficient skill of the early dramatists, its spirit is everywhere manly and noble, and instinct with the soul of the warlike actions which it describes. The best parts are epic, not dramatic—namely, those in which the Messenger describes the different characters and appearance of the seven chiefs posted each at a separate gate of the Cadmean city. The drama concludes with a Theban coronach or wall over the dead bodies of the self-slain brothers; for the proper relishing of which, the imaginative reproduction of some appropriate music is indispensable. The introduction after this of the Herald, announcing the decree of the Theban senate, whereby burial is denied to the body of Polynices, and the heroic display of sisterly affection on the part of Antigone, are—if this really was the last piece of a trilogy—altogether foreign both to the action and to the tone of the tragedy, and must be regarded as a blunder. If Schiller, and even Shakespeare, on occasions, could err in such matters, much more Æschylus.

THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES

Eteocles.
  • Ye citizens of Cadmus! he who sits
  • Holding the helm in the high poop of state,
  • Watchful, with sleepless eyes, must, when he speaks,
  • Speak words that suit the time. If we succeed,
  • The gods will have the praise; but should we fail
  • (Which may averting Jove from me avert, 1
  • And from this Theban city!), I alone
  • Must bear the up-heaped murmurings of the whole,
  • A motley-voiced lament. Ye men of Thebes,
  • Not manhood’s vigour only, but ye also
  • Who lack ripe years, and ye whose green old age
  • Nurses unwithered strength, * arm, and redeem
  • Your country’s honor from a cruel blot.
  • Let not the citadel of your ancient sires,
  • The altars of your native gods, your children,
  • Nor the dear mother Earth, that nursed you, blame
  • The slackness of your love—the nurse who bore
  • Your creeping childhood on her fostering soil,
  • And through your slow growth up to firmer years,
  • Toiled that the strong arms of her faithful sons,
  • Might shield her need. Up to this hour the god
  • Inclines to us; though close hedged in by the foe,
  • The vantage hath been ours. But now the seer,
  • The shepherd of prophetic birds’ revolving
  • In his ear and inward sense deep-pondered truths, 2
  • By no false art, though without help from fire,
  • Even he soothsaying sings that the Argive camp
  • Holds midnight council to attack the city.
  • Therefore be ready; mount the battlements;
  • Top every tower; crown every parapet;
  • Fence every gate with valiant-hearted men,
  • Well harnessed for the fight: and never fear
  • This trooping alien foe. The gods will give
  • A happy issue. Myself have sent out scouts,
  • Sure men, not wont to linger. Their advice
  • Shall shield us from surprise.

Enter Messenger.

Mess.
  • Eteocles,
  • Most excellent lord of Thebes! what I have seen
  • With mine own eyes, no idle unvouched tale,
  • I bring thee from the camp Seven warlike chiefs
  • I saw, in solemn sacrifice assembled:
  • Holding the head of the devoted ox,
  • Over the shield with iron rimmed they dipped
  • Their hands in the steaming blood, and swore an oath,
  • By Mars, Enýo, and blood-loving Terror, 3
  • Either to raze the walls of Thebes, and plunder
  • The citadel of Cadmus, or else drench
  • This soil with Argive blood. Then, as for death
  • Prepared, they decked the chariot of Adrastus 4
  • With choice love-tokens to their Argive kin,
  • Dropping a tear, but with their mouths they gave
  • No voice. An iron-hearted band are they,
  • Breathing hot war, like lions when their eye
  • Looks instant battle. Such my news; nor I
  • Slow to report; for in the camp I left them
  • Eager to share among their several bands
  • Our gates by lot. Therefore, bestir thee; fence
  • Each gate with the choicest men: dash all delay;
  • For now the Argive host, near and more near,
  • All panoplied comes on; the dark-wreathed dust
  • Rolls, and the snowy foam of snorting chargers
  • Stains the pure Theban soil. Like a wise pilot
  • That scents the coming gale, hold thou the city
  • Tight, ere the storm of Ares on our heads
  • Burst pitiless. Loud the mainland wave is roaring.
  • This charge be thine: myself, a sleepless spy,
  • Will bring thee sure word from the hostile camp:
  • Safe from without, so ye be strong within

[ Exit.

Eteocles.
  • O Jove! O Earth! O Gods that keep the city!
  • And thou fell Fury of my father’s curse! *
  • Destroy not utterly this Cadméan seat
  • Rent, razed, deracinated by the foe!
  • Yield not our pious hearths, where the loved speech
  • Of Hellas echoes, to a stranger host!
  • Let not the free-born Theban bend the neck,
  • To slavery thralled, beneath a tyrant’s yoke!
  • Be ye our strength! our common cause we plead;
  • A prosperous state hath cause to bless the gods.

[ Exit.

I.

The Chorus 5 enter the scene in great hurry and agitation.

    • O wailing and sorrow, O wailing and woe!
    • Their tents they have left, many-banded they ride,
    • And onward they tramp with the prance of pride,
    • The horsemen of the foe.
    • The dark-volumed dust-cloud that rides on the gale,
    • Though voiceless, declares a true messenger’s tale;
    • With clattering hoofs, on and on still they ride, 6
    • It swells on my ear, loud it rusheth and roareth,
    • As a fierce wintry torrent precipitous poureth,
    • Rapidly lashing the mountain side.
    • Hear me ye gods, and ye goddesses hear me!
    • The black harm prevent that swells near and more near me!
    • As a wave on the shore when the blast beats the coast,
    • So breaks o’er the walls, from the white-shielded host, 7
    • The eager war-cry, the sharp cry of fear,
    • As near still it rolls, and more near.

II.

The Chorus become more and more agitated. They speak one to another in short hurried exclamations, and in great confusion.

Chorus 1.
  • To which of the gods and the goddesses now
  • Shall I pay my vow?
Chorus 2.
  • Shall I cling to the altar, and kneeling embrace
  • The guardian gods of the Theban race?
Tutti.
  • Ye blissful Olympians, throned sublime,
  • In the hour of need, in the urgent time,
  • May the deep drawn sigh,
  • And the heart’s strong cry
  • Ascend not in vain to your seats sublime!
Chorus 1.
  • Heard ye the shields rattle, heard ye the spear?
  • In this dark day of dole,
  • With chaplet and stole 8
  • Let us march to the temples, and worship in fear!
Chorus 2.
  • I heard the shield’s rattle, and spear clashed on spear
  • Came stunning my ear.
Tutti.
  • O Ares, that shines in the helmet of gold, 9
  • Thine own chosen city wilt thou behold
  • To slavery sold?
  • O Ares, Ares, wilt thou betray
  • Thy Theban home to-day?

III.

The Chorus crown the altars of the gods, and then, falling on their knees, sing the following Theban Litany, in one continuous chaunt.

  • Patron gods that keep the city,
  • Look, look down upon our woe,
  • Save this band of suppliant virgins
  • From the harsh-enslaving foe!
  • For a rush of high-plumed warriors
  • Round the city of the free,
  • By the blast of Ares driven,
  • Roars, like billows of the sea.
  • Father Jove the consummator, *
  • Save us from the Argive spear;
  • For their bristling ranks enclose us,
  • And our hearts do quake with fear,
  • And their steeds with ringing bridles 10
  • Knell destruction o’er the land;
  • And seven chiefs, with lance in hand,
  • Fixed by lot to share the slaughter,
  • At the seventh gate proudly stand.
  • Save us, Pallas, war-delighting
  • Daughter of immortal Jove!
  • Save us, lord of billowy ocean!
  • God of pawing steeds, Poseidon, 11
  • Join thine aid to his above,
  • And with thy fish-piercing trident
  • Still our hearts, our fears remove.
  • Save us Ares! father Ares,
  • Father now thy children’s need!
  • Save us Cypris, mother of Thebans, 12
  • For we are thy blood indeed!
  • Save us, save us, Wolf-Apollo, 13
  • Be a wolf against the foe!
  • Whet thine arrows, born of Leto,
  • Leto’s daughter bend thy bow!

IV.

The Litany is here interrupted by the noise of the besiegers storming the city, and is continued in a hurried irregular manner.

Chorus 1.

I hear the dread roll of the chariots of war!

Tutti.

O holy Hera!

Chorus 2.

And the axles harsh-creaking with dissonant jar!

Tutti.

O Artemis dear!

Chorus 1.

And the vext air is madded with quick-branished spears.

Semi-Chorus 1.

To Thebes, our loved city, what hope now appears?

Semi-Chorus 2.

And when shall the gods bring an end of our fears?

Chorus 1.

Hark! hark! stony hail the near rampart is lashing!

Tutti.

O blest Apollo!

Chorus 2.

And iron-bound shield against shield is clashing!

Tutti.
  • The issue of war with the gods abideth,
  • The doubtful struggle great Jove decideth.
  • O Onca, blest Onca, 14 whose worshippers ever
  • Invoke thee, the queen of the Oncan gate,
  • The seven-gated city deliver, deliver, 15
  • Thou guardian queen of the gate.

V.

The Chorus unite again into a full band, and sing the Finale of the Litany in regular Strophe and Antistrophe.

  • STROPHE.

  • Gods and goddesses almighty!
  • Earthly and celestial powers!
  • Of all good things consummators,
  • Guardians of the Theban towers!
  • Save the spear-encompassed city
  • From a foreign-speaking foe! 16
  • Hear the virgin band, that prays thee
  • With the out-stretched arms of woe!
  • ANTISTROPHE.

  • Gods and demigods! the city
  • Aid that on your aid depends,
  • Watch around us, and defend us;
  • He is strong whom God defends.
  • Bear the incense in remembrance
  • Of our public sacrifice;
  • From a people rich in offerings
  • Let no prayer unanswered rise!

Re-enter Eteocles.

Eteocles.
  • Answer me this, insufferable brood!
  • Is this your wisdom, this your safety-note
  • To Theban soldiers, this your war-cry, thus
  • In prostrate woe clasping the guardian gods,
  • To scream and wail the vain lament of fools?
  • I pray the gods, in good or evil days,
  • May never fate be mine to lodge with women.
  • When fortune’s brave, their pride’s unbearable,
  • But, comes a thought of fear, both hall and forum
  • Must ring with their laments. Why run ye thus
  • From street to street, into the hearts of men
  • Scattering dastardy, and bruiting fear?
  • Nay, but ye chiefly help the enemy’s cause
  • Without the gate, and we by friends within
  • Are more besieged; such aid expect from women!
  • Thebans give ear; whoso shall disobey
  • My word in Thebes, man, woman, old, or young,
  • Whoe’er he be, against himself he writes
  • Black sentence to be stoned by the public hand.
  • Without the gates let brave men fight; within
  • Let women tend their children, and their webs.
  • Hear ye, or hear ye not? or do I speak
  • To the deaf?

STROPHE I.

Chorus.
  • Son of Oedipus be witness!
  • Should not terror rob our wits,
  • When we hear the roll of chariots,
  • Whirling wheels, and creaking axles,
  • And the unresting tramp of horses
  • Champing fierce their fire-forged bits?
Eteocles.
  • What then? when with the storm the good ship labours,
  • Shall the wise helmsman leave his proper post,
  • To clasp the painted gods upon the prow? 17

ANTISTROPHE I.

Chorus.
  • When we heard war’s rattling hail-drift
  • Round our ramparts wildly rave,
  • Trusting to the gods of Cadmus,
  • Spurred by fear, we hither hurried,
  • Here to pray, and clasp the statues
  • Of the good gods strong to save.
Eteocles.
  • Pray that our well-manned walls be strong to save us,
  • Else will the gods help little. Who knows not
  • That, when a city falls, they pass to the Victor? 18

STROPHE II.

Chorus.
  • Never, never may the council
  • Of the assembled gods desert us,
  • While I live, and look on day!
  • Never, never may the stranger
  • Rush through the streets, while midnight burning
  • Lights the robber to his prey!
Eteocles.
  • Weak prayers confound wise counsel. Know ye not
  • Obedience is the mother of success,
  • And pledge of victory. So the wise have spoken.

ANTISTROPHE II.

Chorus.
  • But the gods are strong. When mortals
  • Stretch the arm in vain to save us,
  • Help is waiting from above.
  • When dark night enveils the welkin,
  • And thick-mantled ruin gathers,
  • They enclasp us round with love.
Eteocles.
  • Leave sacrifice and oracles to men,
  • And ’gainst the imminent foe pray to the gods.
  • Women should hold their tongues, and keep their homes.

STROPHE III.

Chorus.
  • By the strength of gods the city
  • Each rude tide hath learnt to stem;
  • Who shall charge us with offending,
  • When we make our vows to them?
Eteocles.
  • Your vows I grudge not, nor would stint your prayers;
  • But this I say, blow not your fears about,
  • Nor taint the general heart with apprehension.

ANTISTROPHE III.

Chorus.
  • Startled by the blare of battle,
  • Hearing clash of combat fell,
  • With a quaking heart I hied me
  • To this sacred citadel.
Eteocles.
  • And when ye hear that some are dead or wounded,
  • Drag not the news with wailings through the town;
  • For blood of mortals is the common food 19
  • Of the war god.
Chorus.

Hark! the angry steeds are snorting.

Eteocles.

Hear what thou wilt; but do not hear aloud

Chorus.
  • The Earth beneath me groans, the wall is shaking.
Eteocles.

The walls are mine to uphold. Pray you, be silent.

Chorus.
  • Woe’s me, the clash of arms, loud and more loud,
  • Rings at the gate!
Eteocles.

And thou the loudest!—Peace!

Chorus.

Great council of the gods, O save us! save us!

Eteocles

Perdition seize thee! thy words flow like water.

Chorus.

O patron gods, save me from captive chains!

Eteocles.

Thy fear makes captive me, and thee, and all.

Chorus.

O mighty Jove, fix with thy dart the foe!

Eteocles.

O Jove, of what strange stuff hast thou made women!

Chorus.

Men are no better, when their city’s captured.

Eteocles.

Dost clasp the gods again, and scream and howl?

Chorus.

Fear hurries on my overmastered tongue

Eteocles.

One small request I have; beseech you hear me.

Chorus.

Speak: I am willing, if I can, to please thee

Eteocles.

Please me by silence; do not fright thy friends.

Chorus.

I speak no more: and wait my doom with them.

Eteocles.
  • This word is wiser than a host of wails.
  • And now, instead of running to and fro,
  • Clinging to every image as you pass,
  • Pray to the gods with sober supplication,
  • To aid the Theban cause: and, when ye hear
  • My vow, lift up a blithe auspicious shout,
  • A sacred hymn, a sacrificial cry,
  • As brave Greek hearts are wont, whose voice shall speak
  • Sure confidence to friends, and to the foe
  • Dismay. Now, hear my vow. If they who keep
  • The city, keep it now from the Argive spear,
  • I vow to them, and to the patron gods
  • Of field and forum, and the holy fount
  • Of Dirce and Ismenus’ sacred stream, 20
  • That blood of lambs and bulls shall wash their altars,
  • And spear-pierced trophies, Argive harnesses,
  • Bedeck their holy halls. Such be your prayers;
  • Not sighs and sobs, and frantic screams, that shake
  • The hearts of men, but not the will of gods.
  • Meanwhile, with six choice men, myself the seventh,
  • I’ll gallantly oppose these boastful chiefs
  • That block our outlets. Timely thus I’ll gag
  • The swift-winged rush of various-bruited news,
  • That in the hour of danger blazes fear.

[ Exit.

  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.

  • Well thou speakest; but unsleeping
  • Terrors shake my virgin frame,
  • And the blasts of war around me
  • Fan my fears into a flame.
  • As the dove her dovelets nursing,
  • Fears the tree-encircling serpent,
  • Fatal neighbour of her nest;
  • Thus the foe, our walls enclosing,
  • Thrills with ceaseless fears my breast.
  • Hark! in hurrying throngs careering
  • Rude they beat our Theban towers,
  • And a rain of rock-torn fragments
  • On the roofs of Cadmus showers!
  • Save us, gods that keep the city,
  • Save us, Jove-begotten Powers!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.

  • Say what region shall receive ye,
  • When the Theban soil is waste?
  • When pure Dirce’s fount is troubled,
  • From what waters shall ye taste?
  • Theban soil, the deepest, richest,
  • That with fruits of joy is pregnant,
  • Dirce, sweetest fount that runs,
  • From Poseidon earth-embracing,
  • And from Tethys’ winding sons. 21
  • Patron-gods maintain your glory,
  • Sit in might enthroned to-day:
  • Smite the foe with fear; fear stricken
  • Let them fling their arms away:
  • Hear our sharp shrill-piercing wailings,
  • When for Cadmus’ weal we pray!
  • STROPHE II.

  • Sad it were, and food for weeping,
  • To behold these walls Ogygian,
  • By the stranger spearman mounted,
  • Levelled by the Argive foe,
  • And these towers by god-sent vengeance
  • Laid in crumbling ashes low.
  • Sad it were to see the daughters,
  • And the sonless mothers grey,
  • Of old Thebes, with hair dishevelled,
  • And rent vestments, even as horses
  • Dragged by the mane, a helpless prey;
  • Sad to hear the victors’ clamour
  • Mingling with the captive’s moan,
  • And the frequent-clanking fetter
  • Struggling with the dying groan.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.

  • Sad, most sad, should hands unlicensed
  • Rudely pluck our opening blossom;
  • Sad—yea better far to die!
  • Changing nuptial torch and chamber
  • For dark homes of slavery.
  • Ah! my soul within me trembles,
  • When it shapes the sight of shame,
  • Swift the chase of lawless murder,
  • And the swifter chase of flame;
  • Black the surly smoke upwreathing,
  • Cries, confusion, choking heat;
  • Shrine-polluting, man-subduing
  • Mars, wild borne from street to street!
  • STROPHE III.

  • Towers and catapults surrounding,
  • And the greedy spear upswallowing
  • Man by man, its gory food:
  • And the sucking infants clinging
  • To the breasts that cannot bear them,
  • Cries to ears that cannot hear them
  • Mingle with their mother’s blood.
  • Plunder, daughter of Confusion,
  • Startles Plenty from his lair,
  • And the robber with the robber
  • Bargains for an equal share;
  • Gods! in such a night of terrors
  • How shall helpless maidens fare?
  • ANTISTROPHE III.

  • Planless is the strife of Plunder.
  • Fruits of patient years are trampled
  • Reckless in the moment’s grave;
  • And the maids that tend the household,
  • With a bitter eye of weeping,
  • See the treasured store of summers
  • Hurried by the barren wave.
  • Woe, deep woe, waits captive maidens,
  • To an untried thraldom led,
  • Bound, by chains of forced affection,
  • To some haughty husband’s bed:
  • Sooner, sooner may I wander
  • Sister of the sunless dead!
Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Methinks I see the scout sent by the king:
  • Doubtless he brings us news; his tripping feet
  • Come swift as wheels that turn on willing axles.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • The king himself, the son of Oedipus,
  • Comes in the exact nick to hear his tidings:
  • With rapid and unequal steps he too
  • Urges the way.

Enter Messenger and Eteocles from opposite sides

Mess.
  • What I have seen I come
  • To tell; the movements of the foe, the station
  • That lot hath given each champion at the gates.
  • First at the Prœtian portal Tydeus stands, 22
  • Storming against the seer, who wise forbids
  • To pass Ismenus’ wave, before the sacrifice
  • Auspicious smiles. But he, for battle burning,
  • Fumes like a fretful snake in the sultry noon,
  • Lashing with gibes the wise Oiclidan seer, 23
  • Whose prudence he interprets dastardy,
  • Cajoling death away. Thus fierce he raves,
  • And shakes the overshadowing crest sublime,
  • His helmet’s triple mane, while ’neath his shield
  • The brazen bells ring fear. 24 On his shield’s face
  • A sign he bears as haughty as himself,
  • The welkin flaming with a thousand lights,
  • And in its centre the full moon shines forth,
  • Eye of the night, and regent of the stars.
  • So speaks his vaunting shield: on the stream’s bank
  • He stands, loud-roaring, eager for the fight,
  • As some fierce steed that frets against the bit,
  • And waits with ruffling neck, and ears erect,
  • To catch the trumpet’s blare. Who will oppose
  • This man? what champion, when the bolts are broken,
  • Shall plant his body in the Prœtian gate?
Eteocles.
  • No blows I fear from the trim dress of war,
  • No wounds from blazoned terrors. Triple crests
  • And ringing bells bite not without the spear;
  • And for this braggart shield, with starry night
  • Studded, too soon for the fool’s wit that owns it
  • The scutcheon may prove seer. When death’s dark night
  • Shall settle on his eyes, and the blithe day
  • Beams joy on him no more, hath not the shield
  • Spoken significant, and pictured borne
  • A boast against its bearer? I, to match
  • This Tydeus, will set forth the son of Astacus,
  • A noble youth not rich in boasts, who bows
  • Before the sacred throne of Modesty,
  • In base things cowardly, in high virtue bold.
  • His race from those whom Ares spared he draws, 25
  • Born from the sown field of the dragon’s teeth,
  • His name Melanippus. Mars shall throw the dice
  • Bravely for him, and Justice call him brother,
  • While girt he goes from his loved Theban mother
  • To ward the Argive spear.

STROPHE I.

Chorus.
  • May the gods protect our champion!
  • Be the cause of Right his shield!
  • But I fear to see the breathless
  • Bleeding bodies of true warriors
  • Strewn upon the battle field.
Mess.
  • Speed well your pious prayers! The lot hath placed
  • Proud Capaneus before the Electran gate, 26
  • A giant warrior mightier than the first,
  • And boasting more than mortal. His high threats
  • May never Chance * fulfil! for with the aid
  • Of gods, or in the gods’ despite, he vows
  • To sack the city, and sets the bolted wrath
  • Of Jove at nought, his lightnings and his thunders
  • Recking no more—so speaks the vauntful tongue—
  • Than vulgar noonday heat. His orbéd shield
  • The blazon of a naked man displays,
  • Shaking a flaring torch with lofty threat
  • In golden letters— i will burn the city.
  • Such is the man: who shall not quail before
  • A pride that flings defiance to the gods?
Eteocles.
  • Here, too, we meet the strong with something stronger.
  • When men are proud beyond the mark of right,
  • They do proclaim with forward tongue their folly,
  • Themselves their own accuser. This brave Capaneus
  • With empty threats and wordy exercise,
  • Fights mortal ’gainst immortals, and upcasts
  • Loud billowy boasts in Jove’s high face But I
  • In Jove have faith that he will smite this boaster
  • With flaming bolts, to vulgar heat of noon
  • In no wise like. The gallant Polyphontus,
  • A man of glowing heart, against this blusterer
  • I’ll send, himself a garrison to pledge
  • Our safety, by the grace of Artemis,
  • And the protecting gods. Name now the others.

ANTISTROPHE I.

Chorus.
  • Perish, with his boasts, the boaster,
  • By strong thunder prostrate laid!
  • Never, never may I see him
  • Into holy homes of virgins
  • Rushing, with his godless blade!
Mess.
  • Hear more. The third lot to Eteocles
  • Leapt from the upturned brazen helm, 27 and fixed him
  • At the Netaean gate. 28 His eager steeds,
  • Their frontlets tossed in the breeze, their swelling nostrils
  • High-snorting with the impatient blast of war,
  • Their bridles flapping with barbaric clang,
  • He curbs, and furious ’gainst the city wheels them,
  • Even as a whirling storm. His breadth of shield,
  • Superbly rounded, shows an armed man
  • Scaling a city, with this proud device,
  • Not Mars himself shall hurl me from these towers.
  • Choose thou a champion worthy to oppose
  • This haughty chief, and pledge his country’s weal.
Eteocles.
  • Fear not: with happy omen, I will send,
  • Have sent already, one to meet this foe,
  • Whose boasts are deeds, brave Megareus, a son
  • Of the dragon’s race, a warrior recking nothing
  • The snortings of impatient steeds. This man
  • Will, with his heart’s blood, pay the nursing fee
  • Due to his Theban mother, * or come back—
  • Which grant the gods!—bearing on that proud shield
  • Rich spoil to garnish forth his father’s halls,
  • The painted champion, and the painted city,
  • And him that living bore the false-faced sign.
  • Now name the fourth, and spare me not your boasts.

STROPHE II.

Chorus.
  • May the gods protect my champion!
  • Ruin seize the ruthless foe!
  • As they boast to raze the city,
  • So may Jove with wrathful vengeance
  • Lay their frenzied babblings low!
Mess.
  • The fourth’s Hippomedon Before the gate
  • He stands of Onca Pallas, clamouring on
  • With lordly port. His shield’s huge round he waved,
  • (Fearful to view), a halo not a shield
  • No vulgar cunning did his hand possess
  • Who carved the dread device upon its face,
  • Typhon, forth-belching, from fire-breathing mouth,
  • Black smoke, the volumed sister of the flame, 29
  • And round its hollow belly was embossed 30
  • A ring of knotted snakes. Himself did rage,
  • Shouting for battle, by the god of war
  • Indwelt, 31 and, like a Maenad, his dark eyes
  • Look fear. Against this man be doubly armed,
  • For, where he is, grim Fear is with him.
Eteocles.
  • Onca
  • Herself will guard the gate that bears her name,
  • From her own ramparts hurl the proud assailer,
  • And shield her nurslings from this crested snake.
  • Hyperbius, the right valiant son of Oenops,
  • Shall stand against this foe, casting his life
  • Into the chance of war; in lordly port,
  • In courage, in all the accoutrements of fight
  • Hippomedon’s counterpart—a hostile pair
  • Well matched by Hermes. 32 But no equal match
  • Their shields display—two hostile gods—the one
  • Fire-breathing Typhon, father Jove the other,
  • Erect, firm-planted, in his flaming hand
  • Grasping red thunder, an unvanquished god.
  • Such are the gods beneath whose wing they fight,
  • For us the strong, for them the weaker power.
  • And as the gods are, so the men shall be
  • That on their aid depend. If Jove hath worsted
  • This Typhon in the fight, we too shall worst
  • Our adverse. Shall the king of gods not save
  • The man whose shield doth bear the Saviour Jove.

ANTISTROPHE II.

Chorus.
  • Earth-born Typhon, hateful monster,
  • Sight that men and gods appals,
  • Whoso bears in godless blazon
  • Great Jove’s foe, shall Jove almighty
  • Dash his head against the walls.
Mess.
  • So grant the gods! The fifth proud foe is stationed
  • Before the Borean gate, hard by the tomb
  • Of the Jove-born Amphion. By his spear
  • He swears, his spear more dear to him than gods,
  • Or light of day, that he will sack the city
  • In Jove’s despite: thus speaks half-man, half-boy.
  • The fair-faced scion of a mountain mother.
  • The manly down, luxuriant, bushy, sprouts
  • Full from his blooming cheek no virgin he
  • In aspect, though most virgin-like his name. *
  • Keen are his looks, and fierce his soul; he too
  • Comes not without a boast against the gates;
  • For on his shield, stout forgery of brass,
  • A broad circumference of sure defence,
  • He shows, in mockery of Cadméan Thebes,
  • The terrible Sphynx, in gory food delighting,
  • Hugely embossed, with terror brightly studded,
  • And in her mortal paw the monster rends
  • A Theban man: for which reproachful sign
  • Thick-showered the bearer bears the keenest darts,—
  • Parthenopæus, bold Arcadian chief.
  • No man seems he to shame the leagues he travelled
  • By petty war’s detail. Not born an Argive,
  • In Argos nursed, he now her love repays,
  • By fighting ’gainst her foes. His threats—the god
  • Grant they be only threats!
Eteocles.
  • Did they receive
  • What punishment their impious vaunts deserve,
  • Ruin with one wide swoop should swamp them all.
  • This braggart stripling, fresh from Arcady,
  • The brother of Hyperbius shall confront,
  • Actor, a man whose hand pursues its deed,
  • Not brandishing vain boasts No enemy,
  • Whose strength is in his tongue, shall sap these walls,
  • While Actor has a spear: nor shall the man
  • Who bears the hated portent on his shield
  • Enter our gate, but rather the grim sign
  • Frown on its bearer, when thick-rattling hail
  • Showered from our walls shall dint it. If the gods
  • Are just, the words I speak are prophecy.

STROPHE III.

Chorus.
  • The eager cry doth rend my breast,
  • And on end stands every hair,
  • When I hear the godless vaunting
  • Of unholy men! May Até
  • Fang them in her hopeless snare!
Mess.
  • The sixth a sober man, a seer of might,
  • Before the Homoloidian gate stands forth, 33
  • And speaks harsh words against the might of Tydeus
  • Rating him murderer, teacher of all ill
  • To Argos, troubler of the city’s peace,
  • The Furies’ herald, crimson slaughter’s minion,
  • And councillor of folly to Adrastus.
  • Thy brother too, the might of Polynices,
  • He whips with keen reproaches, and upcasts
  • With bitter taunts his evil-omened name,
  • Making it spell his ugly sin that owns it. 34
  • O fair and pious deed, even thus he cries,
  • To blot thy native soil with war, and lead
  • A foreign host against thy country’s gods!
  • Soothly a worthy deed, a pleasant tale
  • For future years to tell! Most specious right,
  • To stop the sacred fountain up whence sprung
  • Thy traitor life! How canst thou hope to live
  • A ruler well acknowledged in the land,
  • That thou hast wounded with invading spear?
  • Myself this foreign soil, on which I tread,
  • Shall feed with prophet’s blood. I hope to die,
  • Since die I must, an undishonoured death.
  • Thus spake the seer, and waved his full-orb’d shield
  • Of solid brass, but plain, without device.
  • Of substance studious, careless of the show,
  • The wise man is what fools but seem to be, 35
  • Reaping rich harvest from the mellow soil
  • Of quiet thought, the mother of great deeds
  • Choose thou a wise and virtuous man to meet
  • The wise and virtuous. Whoso fears the gods
  • Is fearful to oppose.
Eteocles.
  • Alas! the fate
  • That mingles up the godless and the just
  • In one companionship! wise was the man
  • Who taught that evil converse is the worst
  • Of evils, that death’s unblest fruit is reaped
  • By him who sows in Até’s fields. * The man
  • Who, being godly, with ungodly men
  • And hot-brained sailors mounts the brittle bark,
  • He, when the god-detested crew goes down,
  • Shall with the guilty guiltless perish. When
  • One righteous man is common citizen
  • With godless and unhospitable men,
  • One god-sent scourge must smite the whole, one net
  • Snare bad and good. Even so, Oicleus’ son,
  • This sober, just, and good, and pious man,
  • This mighty prophet and soothsayer, he,
  • Leagued with the cause of bad and bold-mouthed men
  • In his own despite—so Jove hath willed—shall lead
  • Down to the distant city of the dead
  • The murky march with them. He will not even
  • Approach the walls, so I may justly judge.
  • No dastard soul is his, no wavering will;
  • But well he knows, if Loxias’ words bear fruit,
  • (And, when he speaks not true, the god is dumb)
  • Amphiaraus dies by Theban spear.
  • Yet to oppose this man I will dispatch
  • The valiant Lasthenes, a Theban true,
  • Who wastes no love on strangers; swift his eye,
  • Nor slow his hand to make the eager spear
  • Leap from behind the shield. The gods be with him!

ANTISTROPHE III.

Chorus.
  • May the gods our just entreaties
  • For the cause of Cadmus hear!
  • Jove! when the sharp spear approaches,
  • Sit enthroned upon our rampires,
  • Darting bolts, and darting fear!
Mess.
  • Against the seventh gate the seventh chief
  • Leads on the foe, thy brother Polynices;
  • And fearful vows he makes, and fearful doom
  • His prayers invoke. Mounted upon our walls,
  • By herald’s voice Thebes’ rightful prince proclaimed,
  • Shouting loud hymns of capture, hand to hand
  • He vows to encounter thee, and either die
  • Himself in killing thee, or should he live
  • And spare thy recreant life, he will repay
  • Like deed with like, and thou in turn shalt know
  • Dishonouring exile. Thus he speaks and prays
  • The family gods, and all the gods of Thebes,
  • To aid his traitor suit. Upon his shield,
  • New-forged, and nicely fitted to the hand,
  • He bears this double blazonry—a woman
  • Leading with sober pace an armed man
  • All bossed in gold, and thus the superscription,
  • I, Justice, bring this injured exile back,
  • To claim his portion in his father’s hall.
  • Such are the strange inventions of the foe.
  • Choose thou a man that’s fit to meet thy brother;
  • Nor blame thy servant: what he saw he says:
  • To helm the state through such rude storm be thine!
Eteocles.
  • O god-detested! god-bemadded race! 36
  • Woe-worthy sons of woe-worn Oedipus!
  • Your father’s curse is ripe! but tears are vain,
  • And weeping might but mother worser woe.
  • O Polynices! thy prophetic name
  • Speaks more than all the emblems of thy shield;
  • Soon shall we see if gold-bossed words can save thee,
  • Babbling vain madness in a proud device.
  • If Jove-born Justice, maid divine, might be
  • Of thoughts and deeds like thine participant,
  • Thou mightst have hope; but, Polynices, never,
  • Or when the darkness of the mother’s womb
  • Thou first didst leave, or in thy nursling prime,
  • Or in thy bloom of youth, or in the gathering
  • Of beard on manhood’s chin, hath Justice owned thee,
  • Or known thy name; and shall she know thee now
  • Thou leadst a stranger host against thy country?
  • Her nature were a mockery of her name
  • If she could fight for knaves, and still be Justice.
  • In this faith strong, this traitor I will meet
  • Myself: the cause is mine, and I will fight it.
  • For equal prince to prince, to brother brother,
  • Fell foe to foe, suits well. And now to arms!
  • Bring me my spear and shield, hauberk and greaves!

[ Exit Messenger.

Chorus.
  • Dear son of Oedipus! let not thy wrath
  • Wax hot as his whom thou dost chiefly chide!
  • Let the Cadméans with the Argives fight;
  • This is enough: their blood may be atoned.
  • But, when a brother falls by brother’s hands,
  • Age may not mellow such dark due of guilt.
Eteocles.
  • If thou canst bear an ill, and fear no shame,
  • Bear it: but if to bear is to be base,
  • Choose death, thy only refuge from disgrace.

STROPHE IV.

Chorus.
  • Whither wouldst thou? calm thy bosom,
  • Tame the madness of thy blood;
  • Ere it bear a crimson blossom,
  • Pluck thy passion in the bud.
Eteocles.
  • Fate urges on; the god will have it so. 37
  • Now drift the race of Laius, with full sail,
  • Abhorred by Phœbus, down Cocytus’ stream!

ANTISTROPHE IV.

Chorus.
  • Let not ravening rage consume thee!
  • Bitter fruit thy wrath will bear;
  • Sate thy hunger with the thousands,
  • But of brother’s blood beware!
Eteocles.
  • The Curse must work its will: and thus it speaks,
  • Watching beside me with dry tearless eyes,
  • Death is thy only gain, and death to-day
  • Is better than to-morrow! 38

STROPHE V.

Chorus.
  • Save thy life: the wise will praise thee;
  • To the gods with incense come,
  • And the storm-clad black Erinnys
  • Passes by thy holy home.
Eteocles.
  • The gods will reck the curse, but not the prayers
  • Of Laius’ race. Our doom is their delight.
  • ’Tis now too late to fawn the Fate away.

ANTISTROPHE V.

Chorus.
  • Nay! but yet thou mayst: the god,
  • That long hath raged, and burneth now,
  • With a gentler sway soft-wafted,
  • Soon may fan thy fevered brow.
Eteocles.
  • The Curse must sway, my father’s burning curse.
  • The visions of the night were true, that showed me
  • His heritage twin-portioned by the sword.
Chorus.

We are but women: yet we pray thee hear us.

Eteocles.

Speak things that may be, and I’ll hear. Be brief.

Chorus.

Fight not before the seventh gate, we pray thee.

Eteocles.

My whetted will thy words may never blunt.

Chorus.

Why rush on danger? Victory’s sure without thee.

Eteocles.

So speak to slaves; a soldier may not hear thee.

Chorus.

But brother’s blood—pluck not the bloody blossom.

Eteocles.

If gods are just, he shall not ’scape from harm.

[ Exit.

  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.

  • I fear the house-destroying power; I fear
  • The goddess most ungodlike, 39
  • The all-truth-speaking seer
  • Of evil things, whose sleepless wrath doth nurse
  • Fulfilment of the frenzied father’s curse.
  • The time doth darkly lower;
  • This strife of brother’s blood with brother’s blood
  • Spurs the dread hour.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.

  • O son of Scythia, must we ask thine aid?
  • Chalybian stranger thine, 40
  • Here with the keen unsparing blade
  • To part our fair possessions? thou dost deal
  • A bitter lot, O savage-minded steel!
  • Much loss is all the gain,
  • When mighty lords with their stark corpses measure
  • Their whole domain.
  • STROPHE II.

  • When the slain shall slay the slayer,
  • And kindred blood with blood
  • Shall mingle, when the thirsty Theban soil
  • Drinks eager the black-clotting sanguine flood,
  • Who then shall purge the murderous stain,
  • Who wash it clean again?
  • When ancient guilt and new shall burst,
  • In one dire flood of woe?
  • ANTISTROPHE II.

  • With urgent pace the Fury treadeth,
  • To generations three
  • Avenging Laius’ sin on Laius’ race;
  • What time he sinned against the gods’ decree,
  • When Phœbus from Earth’s central shrine *
  • Thrice sent the word divine—
  • Live childless, Laius, for thy seed
  • Shall work thy country’s woe.
  • STROPHE III.

  • But he to foolish words gave ear,
  • And ruin to himself begot,
  • The parricidal Oedipus, who joined
  • A frenzied bond in most unholy kind,
  • Sowing where he was sown; whence sprung a bud
  • Of bitterness and blood.
  • ANTISTROPHE III.

  • The city tosses to and fro,
  • Like a drifted ship; wave after wave,
  • Now high, now low, with triple-crested flow
  • Now reared sublime, brays round the plunging prow
  • These walls are but a plank: if the kings fall
  • ’Tis ruin to us all.
  • STROPHE IV.

  • The ancestral curse, the hoary doom is ripe.
  • Who now shall smooth such hate?
  • What hand shall stay, when it hath willed to strike,
  • The uplifted arm of Fate?
  • When the ship creaks beneath the straining gale,
  • The wealthy merchant flings the well-stowed bale
  • Into the gulf below.
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.

  • When the enigma of the baleful Sphynx
  • By Oedipus was read,
  • And the man-rending monster on a stone
  • Despairful dashed her head;
  • What mortal man by herd-possessing men,
  • What god by gods above was honoured then,
  • Like Oedipus below!
  • STROPHE V.

  • But when his soul was conscious, and he saw
  • The monstrous wedlock made ’gainst Nature’s law,
  • Him struck dismay,
  • In wild deray,
  • He from their socket roots uptore
  • His eyes, more dear than children, worthy no more
  • To look upon the day.
  • ANTISTROPHE V.

  • And he, for sorry tendance wrathful, 41 flung
  • Curses against his sons with bitter tongue,
  • They shall dispute
  • A dire dispute,
  • And share their land with steel. ” I fear
  • The threatened harm; with boding heart I hear
  • The Fury’s sleepless foot.

Re-enter Messenger.

Mess.
  • Fear not, fair maids of Theban mothers nursed!
  • The city hath ’scaped the yoke; the insolent boasts
  • Of violent men hath fallen; the ship o’ the state
  • Is safe, in sunshine calm we float; in vain
  • Hath wave on wave lashed our sure-jointed beams,
  • No leaky gap our close-lipped timbers knew,
  • Our champions with safety hedged us round,
  • Our towers stand firm. Six of the seven gates
  • Show all things prosperous, the seventh Phœbus
  • Chose for his own (for still in four and three
  • The god delights), 42 he led the seventh pair,
  • Crowning the doom of evil-counselled Laius.
Chorus.

What sayst thou? What new ills to ancient Thebes?

Mess.

Two men are dead—by mutual slaughter slain.

Chorus.

Who?—what?—my wit doth crack with apprehension.

Mess

Hear soberly: the sons of Oedipus—

Chorus.

O wretched me! true prophet of true woe.

Mess.

Too true. They lie stretched in the dust.

Chorus.
  • Sayst so?
  • Sad tale! yet must I school mine ears to hear it.
Mess.

Brother by brother’s hand untimely slain.

Chorus.

The impartial god smote equally the twain.

Mess.
  • A wrathful god the luckless race destroys,
  • And I for plaints no less than pæans bring thee 43
  • Plentiful food. The state now stands secure,
  • But the twin rulers, with hard-hammered steel,
  • Have sharply portioned all their heritage,
  • By the dire curse to sheer destruction hurried
  • What land they sought they find it in the grave,
  • The hostile kings in one red woe are brothered;
  • The soil that called them lord hath drunk their blood.

[ Exit.

Chorus.
  • O Jove almighty! gods of Cadmus,
  • By whose keeping Thebes is strong,
  • Shall I sing a joyful pæan,
  • Thee the god full-throated hymning
  • That saved the state from instant harm?
  • Or shall drops of swelling pity
  • To a wail invert my ditty?
  • O wretched, hapless, childless princes!
  • Truly, truly was his name
  • Prophet of your mutual shame! *
  • Godless was the strife ye cherished,
  • And in godless strife ye perished!
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.

  • The curse that rides on sable wing,
  • Hath done its part,
  • And horror, like a creeping thing,
  • Freezes my heart.
  • Their ghastly death in kindred blood
  • Doth pierce me thorough,
  • And deeply stirs the Thyad flood
  • Of wail and sorrow.
  • An evil bird on boding wing
  • Did darkly sway,
  • When steel on steel did sternly ring
  • In strife to-day.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.

  • The voice that from the blind old king
  • With cursing came,
  • In rank fulfilment forth doth bring
  • Its fruit of shame.
  • O Laius, thou didst work our woe
  • With faithless heart;
  • Nor Phœbus with a half-dealt blow
  • Will now depart.
  • His word is sure, or pacing slow,
  • Or winged with speed,
  • And now the burthened cloud of woe,
  • Bursts black indeed.

[ The bodies of Eteocles and Polynices are brought on the stage.

  • EPODE.

    • Lo! where it comes the murky pomp,
    • No wandering voice, but clear, too clear
    • The visible body of our fear!
    • Twin-faced sorrow, twin-faced slaughter,
    • And twin-fated woe is here.
    • Ills on ills of monstrous birth
    • Rush on Laius’ god-doom’d-hearth.
    • Sisters raise the shrill lament,
    • Let your lifted arms be oars!
    • Let your sighs be breezes lent,
    • Down the wailing stream to float
    • The black-sail’d Stygian boat;
    • Down to the home which all receiveth,
    • Down to the land which no man leaveth,
    • By Apollo’s foot untrodden,
    • Sullen, silent, sunless shores!
    • But I see the fair Ismene,
    • And Antigone the fair,
    • Moving to this place of mourning,
    • Slow, a sorrow-guided pair.
    • We shall see a sight for weeping
    • (They obey a doleful hest)
    • Lovely maids deep-bosomed pouring
    • Wails from heavy-laden breast.
    • Chaunts of sorrow, dismal prelude
    • Of their grief, to us belong:
    • Let us hymn the dread Erinnys!
    • To the gloomy might of Hades,
    • Let us lift the sombre song.

Enter Antigone and Ismene in sorrowful silence.

  • Hapless sisters! maids more hapless
  • Ne’er were girded with a zone:
  • I weep, and wail, and mine, believe me,
  • Is a heart’s sigh, no hireling moan *

[ Here commences the Funeral Wail over the dead bodies of Eteocles and Polynices with mournful music.

STROPHE I.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Alas! alas! the hapless pair.
  • To friendly voice and warning Fate
  • They stopped the ear: and now too late
  • Dear bought with blood their father’s wealth
  • In death they share.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • Outstretched in death, and prostrate low
  • Them and their house the iron Woe
  • Hath sternly crushed.

ANTISTROPHE I.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Alas! alas! the old thrones reel,
  • The lofty palace topples down;
  • And Death hath won a bloody crown,
  • And thou sure end of strife hast made,
  • O keen cold steel!
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • And, with fulfilment on her wing,
  • Curse-laden from the blind old king
  • The Fury rushed.

STROPHE II.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Pierced through the left, with gaping gashes
  • Gory they lie.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • All gashed and gored, by fratricidal
  • Wounds they die.
Semi-Chorus 1.
  • * * * *
  • * * *
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • A god, a god doth rule the hour,
  • Slaughter meets slaughter, and the curse
  • Doth reign with power.
Semi-Chorus 1.
  • See where the steel clean through hath cut
  • Their bleeding life,
  • Even to the marrow deep hath pierced
  • The ruthless knife.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • Deep in their silent hearts they cherished
  • The fateful curse,
  • And, with fell purpose sternly hating,
  • Defied remorse.

ANTISTROPHE II.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • From street to street shrill speeds the cry
  • Of wail and woe.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • And towers and peopled plains reply
  • With wail and woe.
Semi-Chorus 1.
  • And all their wealth a stranger heir
  • Shall rightly share.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • The wealth that waked the deadly strife,
  • The strife that raged till rage and strife
  • Ceased with their life.
Semi-Chorus 1.
  • With whetted heart, and whetted glaive,
  • They shared the lot;
  • Victor and vanquished each in the grave
  • Six feet hath got.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • A harsh allotment! who shall praise it,
  • Friend or foe?
  • Harsh strife in pride begun, and ending
  • In wail and woe.

STROPHE III.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Sword-stricken here they lie, they lie
  • A breathless pair.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • Sword-stricken here they find, they find
  • What home, and where?
Semi-Chorus 1.
  • A lonely home, a home of gloom
  • In their fathers’ tomb.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • And wailing follows from the halls
  • The dismal bier;
  • Wailing and woe the heart-strings breaking,
  • And sorrow from its own self taking
  • The food it feeds on, moody sadness,
  • Shunning all sights and sounds of gladness,
  • And from the eye spontaneous bringing
  • No practised tear;
  • My heart within me wastes, beholding
  • This dismal bier.

ANTISTROPHE III.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • And on the bier we drop the tear
  • And justly say,
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • To friend and foe, they purchased woe
  • And wail to-day.
Semi-Chorus 1.
  • And to Hades showed full many the road
  • In the deadly fray.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • O ill-starred she!—there hath not been
  • Nor will be more,
  • Of sore-tried women children-bearing,
  • One like her, like sorrow sharing.
  • With her own body’s fruit she joined
  • Wedlock in most unholy kind,
  • And to her son, twin sons the mother,
  • O monstrous! bore:
  • And here they lie, by brother brother
  • Now drenched in gore.

STROPHE IV.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • Ay, drenched in gore, in brothered gore, 44
  • Weltering they lie;
  • Mad was the strife, and sharp the knife
  • That bade them die.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • The strife hath ceased: life’s purple flood
  • The dry Earth drinks;
  • And kinsman’s now to kinsman’s blood
  • Keen slaughter links.
  • The far sea stranger forged i’ the fire
  • The pointed iron soothed their ire.
  • A bitter soother! Mars hath made
  • A keen division
  • Of all their lands, and lent swift wing
  • To the curse that came from the blind old king
  • With harsh completion.

ANTISTROPHE IV.

Semi-Chorus 1.
  • They strove for land, and did demand
  • An equal share;
  • In the ground deep, deep, where now they sleep,
  • There’s land to spare.
Semi-Chorus 2.
  • A goodly crop to you hath grown
  • Of woe and wailing;
  • Ye reaped the seed by Laius sown,
  • The god prevailing.
  • Shrill yelled the curse, a deathful shout,
  • And scattered sheer in hopeless rout
  • The kingly race did fall; and lo!
  • Fell Até planteth
  • Her trophy at the gate; and there
  • Triumphant o’er the princely pair
  • Her banner flaunteth.

[ Antigone and Ismene now come forward, and standing beside the dead bodies, pointing now to the one, and now to the other, finish the Wail as chief mourners.

PRELUDE.

Antig.

Wounded, thou didst wound again.

Ismene.

Thou didst slay, and yet wert slain.

Antig.

Thou didst pierce him with the spear.

Ismene.

Deadly-pierced thou liest here.

Antig.

Sons of sorrow!

Ismene.

Sons of pain!

Antig.

Break out grief!

Ismene.

Flow tears amain!

Antig.

Weep the slayer.

Ismene.

And the slain.

STROPHE.

Antig.

Ah! my soul is mad with moaning.

Ismene.

And my heart within is groaning.

Antig.

O thrice-wretched, wretched brother!

Ismene.

Thou more wretched than the other!

Antig.

Thine own kindred pierced thee thorough.

Ismene.

And thy kin was pierced by thee.

Antig.

Sight of sadness!

Ismene.

Tale of sorrow!

Antig.

Deadly to say!

Ismene.

Deadly to see!

Antig.

We with you the sorrow bear.

Ismene.

And twin woes twin sisters share.

Chorus.

Alas! alas!

  • Moera, baneful gifts dispensing 45
  • To the toilsome race of mortals,
  • Now prevails thy murky hour:
  • Shade of Oedipus thrice sacred,
  • Night-clad Fury, dread Erinnys,
  • Mighty, mighty is thy power!

ANTISTROPHE.

Antig.

Food to feed the eyes with mourning,

Ismene.

Exile sad, more sad returning!

Antig.

Slain wert thou, when thou hadst slain

Ismene.

Found wert thou and lost again

Antig.

Lost, in sooth, beyond reprieving.

Ismene.

Life-bereft and life-bereaving.

Antig.

Race of Laius, woe is thee!

Ismene.

Woe, and wail, and misery!

Antig.

Woe, woe, thy fatal name!

Ismene.

Prophet of our triple shame.

Antig.

Deadly to say!

Ismene.

Deadly to see!

Chorus.

Alas! alas!

  • Moera, baneful gifts dispensing
  • To the toilsome race of mortals,
  • Now prevails thy murky hour;
  • Shade of Oedipus thrice sacred,
  • Night-clad Fury, dread Erinnys,
  • Mighty, mighty is thy power.

EPODE.

Antig.

Thou hast marched a distant road.

Ismene.

Thou hast gone to the dark abode.

Antig.

Cruel welcome met thee here.

Ismene.

Falling by thy brother’s spear.

Antig.

Deadly to say!

Ismene.

Deadly to see!

Antig.

Woe and wailing.

Ismene.

Wail and woe!

Antig.

To my home and to my country.

Ismene.

And to me much wail and woe.

Antig.

Chief woe to me!

Ismene.

Weeping and woe!

Antig.

Alas! Eteocles, laid thus low!

Ismene.

O thrice woe-worthy pair!

Antig.

A god, a god, hath dealt the blow!

Ismene.

Where shall they find their clay-cold lair?

Antig.

An honoured place their bones shall keep.

Ismene.

With their fathers they shall sleep.

Enter Herald.

Herald.
  • Hear ye my words—my herald’s voice declaring
  • What seemed and seems good to the Theban senate
  • Eteocles, his country’s friend, shall find
  • Due burial in its friendly bosom. 46 He
  • Is free from sin against the gods of Cadmus,
  • And died, the champion of his country’s cause,
  • As generous youths should die. Severer doom
  • Falls on his brother Polynices. He
  • Shall lie in the breeze unburied, food for dogs,
  • Most fit bestowal of a traitor’s corpse;
  • For, had some god not stept between to save us,
  • And turned the spear aside, Cadméan Thebes
  • Had stood no more. His country’s gods demand
  • Such stern atonement of the impious will
  • That led a hireling host against their shrines.
  • On him shall vultures banquet, ravening birds
  • His flesh shall tear; no pious hand shall pile
  • The fresh green mound, no wailing notes for him
  • Be lifted shrill, no tearful friends attend
  • His funeral march. Thus they who rule in Thebes
  • Have strictly ordered.
Antig.
  • Go thou back, and give
  • This message to the rulers.—If none other
  • Will grant the just interment to my brother
  • Myself will bury him. The risk I reck not,
  • Nor blush to call rebellion’s self a virtue,
  • Where I rebel, being kind to my own kin.
  • Our common source of life, a mother doomed
  • To matchless woes, nor less the father doomed,
  • Demand no vulgar reverence. I will share
  • Reproach with the reproached, and with my kin
  • Know kindred grief, the living with the dead.
  • For his dear flesh, no hollow-stomach’d wolves
  • Shall tear it—no! myself, though I’m but woman,
  • Will make his tomb, and do the sacred office.
  • Even in this bosom’s linen folds, I’ll bear
  • Enough of earth to cover him withal
  • This thing I’ll do I will. For bold resolves
  • Still find bold hands; the purpose makes the plan. 47
Herald.

When Thebes commands, ’tis duty to obey.

Antig.

When ears are deaf, ’tis wisdom to be dumb.

Herald

Fierce is a people with young victory flushed.

Antig.

Fierce let them be; he shall not go unburied.

Herald.

What? wilt thou honour whom the city hates?

Antig.

And did the gods not honour whom I honour?

Herald.

Once: ere he led the spear against his country.

Antig.

Evil entreatment he repaid with evil.

Herald.

Should thousands suffer for the fault of one?

Antig
  • Strife is the last of gods to end her tale;
  • My brother I will bury. Make no more talk.
Herald.

Be wilful, if thou wilt. I counsel wisdom.

Chorus.
  • Mighty Furies that triumphant
  • Ride on ruin’s baleful wings,
  • Crushed ye have and clean uprooted
  • This great race of Theban kings.
  • Who shall help me? Who shall give me,
  • Sure advice, and counsel clear?
  • Shall mine eyes freeze up their weeping?
  • Shall my feet refuse to follow
  • Thy loved remnant? but I fear
  • Much the rulers, and their mandate
  • Sternly sanctioned. Shall it be?
  • Him shall many mourners follow?
  • Thee, rejected by thy country,
  • Thee no voice of wailing nears,
  • All thy funeral march a sister
  • Weeping solitary tears?

[ The Chorus now divides itself into two parts, of which one attaches itself to Antigone and the corpse of Polynices; the other to Ismene and the corpse of Eteocles.

Semi-Chorus.
  • Let them threaten, or not threaten,
  • We will drop the friendly tear,
  • With the pious-minded sister,
  • We will tend the brother’s bier.
  • And though public law forbids
  • These tears, free-shed for public sorrow,
  • Laws oft will change, and in one state
  • What’s right to-day is wrong to morrow.
Semi-Chorus.
  • For us we’ll follow, where the city
  • And the law of Cadmus leads us,
  • To the funeral of the brave.
  • By the aid of Jove Supernal,
  • And the gods that keep the city,
  • Mighty hath he been to save;
  • He hath smote the proud invader,
  • He hath rolled the ruin backward
  • Of the whelming Argive wave.

NOTES TO THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES

THE PERSIANS
A HISTORICAL CANTATA