Th.I Thetis am, daughter of that old god,Whose wisdom buried in the deep hath madeThe unfathomed water solemn, and I ruleThe ocean-nymphs, who for their pastime playIn the blue glooms, and darting here and thereChecquer the dark and widespread melancholy1410With everlasting laughter and bright smiles.Of me thou hast heard, and of my son Achilles,By prescient fame renowned first of the Greeks:He is on this island: for ’twas here I set himTo hide him from his foes, and he was safeTill thou betray’dst him—for unwittinglyThat hast thou done to-day. The seeming pedlar,To whom thou leddest Pyrrha, was Ulysses,Who spied to find Achilles, and thro’ theeFound him, alas! Thy Pyrrha was Achilles.Chorus.O daughter of Nereus old,1420Queen of the nymphs that swimBy day in gleams of gold,By night in the silver dim,Forgive in pity, we pray,Forgive the ill we have done.Why didst thou hide this thing from us?For if we had known thy sonWe had guarded him well to-day,Nor ever betrayed him thus.For though we may not ride1430Thy tall sea-horses nor playIn the rainbow-tinted spray,Nor dive down under the tideTo the secret caves of the main,Among thy laughing train;Yet had we served thee well as they,Had we thy secret shared:Nor ever had lost from garden and hallPyrrha the golden-haired,Pyrrha beloved of all.1440Th.(to Deid.). Dost thou say nought?Deid.Alas, alas! my Pyrrha.Th.Art thou lamenting still to have lost thy maid?Deid.I need no tongue to cry my shame; and yetThy mockery doth not grieve me like my loss.Th.I came not here to mock thee, and forbidThy grief, that doth dishonour to my son.Deid.Nay, nay, that word is mine: speak it no more.Th.Weepest thou at comfort? Is deceit so dearTo mortals, that to know good cannot match1450The joy of a delusion whatsoe’er?Deid.What joy was mine shame must forbid to tell.Th.Gods count it shame to be deceived: but menAre shamed not by delusion of the gods.Deid.Then ye know nothing or do not respect.Th.Why what is this thou makest? the more ye have lovedThe more have ye delighted, and the joyI never grudged thee; tho’ there was not oneIn all my company of sea-born nymphs,Who did not daily pray me, with white arms1460Raised in the blue, to let her guard my son.And for his birthright he might well have takenThe service of their sportive train, and livedOn some fair desert isle away from menLike a young god in worship and gay love.But since he is mortal, for his mortal mateI chose out thee; to whom now were he lost,I would not blame thy well-deservèd tears:But lo, I am come to give thee joy, to callThee daughter, and prepare thee for the sight1470Of such a lover, as no lady yetHath sat to await in chamber or in bowerOn any wallèd hill or isle of Greece;Nor yet in Asian cities, whose dark queensLook from the latticed casements over seasOf hanging gardens; nor doth all the worldHold a memorial; not where Ægypt mirrorsThe great smile of her kings and sunsmit fanesIn timeless silence: none hath been like him;And all the giant stones, which men have piledUpon the illustrious dead, shall crumble and join1481The desert dust, ere his high dirging MuseBe dispossessèd of the throne of song.Await him here. While I thy willing maidsWill lead apart, that they may learn what shareTo take in thy rejoicing. Follow me!Ch.Come, come—we follow—we obey thee gladly—We long to learn, goddess, what thou canst teach.[Exeunt Th. and Chor.Deid.Rejoice, she bids me. Ah me, tho’ all heaven spake,I should weep bitterly. My tears, my shame1490Will never leave me. Never now, nevermoreCan I find credit of grace, nor as a rockStand ’twixt my maids and evil; even not deservingMy father’s smile. Why honour we the gods,Who reck not of our honour? How hath she,Self-styled a goddess, mocked me, not respectingMaidenly modesty; but in the pathOf grace, wherein I thought to walk enstatedHigh as my rank without reproach, she hath setA snare for every step; that day by day,1500From morn to night, I might do nothing well;But by most innocent seeming be betrayedTo what most wounds a shamefast life, yieldingTo a man’s unfeignèd feigning; nay nor stayedUntil I had given,—alas, how oft!—My cheek to his lips, my body to his arms;And thinking him a maid as I myself,Have loved, kissed, and embraced him as a maid.O wretched, not to have seen what was so plain!Here on this bank no later than this morn1510Was I beguiled. There is no cure, no cure.I’ll close my eyes for ever, nor see againThe things I have seen, nor be what I have been.[Covers her face weeping.Enter Achilles.Ach.The voices that were here have ceased. Ah, there!Not gone. ’Tis she, and by my cast-off robeSitting alone. I must speak comfort to her,Whoe’er I seem. O Deidamia, see!Pyrrha is found. Weep not for her. I tell theeThy Pyrrha is safe. Despair not. Nay, look up.1519Dost thou not know my voice? ’Tis I myself.Look up, I am Pyrrha.—Ah, now what prayer or pleaMade on my knees can aid me—If thou knowst allAnd wilt not look on me? Yet if thou hearestThou wilt forgive. Nay, if thou lovedst me not,Or if I had wronged thee, thou wouldst scorn me now.Thou dost not look. I am not changed. I loved theeAs like a maiden as I knew: if moreWas that a fault? Now as I am AchillesRevealed to-day to lead the Greeks to Troy,I count that nothing and bow down to thee1530Who hast made me fear,—Let me unveil thy eyes: tho’ thou wouldst hide me,Hide not thyself from me. If gentle forceShould show me that ’tis love that thou wouldst hide ...And love I see. Look on me.Deid.(embracing). Ah Pyrrha, Pyrrha!Ach.Thou dost forgive.Deid.I never dreamed the truth.Ach.And wilt not now look on me!Deid.I dare not look.Ach.What dost thou fear? A monster! I am not changedSave but my dress, and that an AmazonMight wear.Deid.O, I see all.Ach.But who hath told thee?1540Deid.There came one here much like thee when we called,Who said she was a goddess and thy mother.Ach.’Twas she that hid me in my strange disguise,Fearing the oracle.Deid.She praised thee well,And said that thou wouldst come...Ach.What didst thou fear,Hiding thine eyes?Deid.I cannot speak the name.Be Pyrrha still.Ach.Be that my name with thee.Yet hath thy father called me son Achilles.Deid.He knows?Ach.There’s nought to hide: but let us hence.He is coming hither, and with him my foe.1550Let them not find us thus, and thee in tears.[Exeunt.Enter Lycomedes, Ulysses, Diomede, and Abas.Lyc.It may be so, or it may not be so:You have done me an honest service ’gainst your will,And must not wrest it to a false conclusion.I bid you be my guests, and with your presenceHonour the marriage, which ye have brought about.Ye need not tarry long.Ul.Each hour is longWhich holds the Argive ships chained to the shore.This is no time for marriage.Lyc.There’s time for all;A time for wooing and a time for warring:1560And such a feast of joy as offers nowYe shall not often see. Scyros shall show youWhat memory may delight in ’twixt the fraysOf bloody battle.Dio.I am not made for feasts.I join the cry to arms. But make your bridalTo-night, and I’ll abide it.Lyc.I’ll have’t to-night.So shall Achilles’ finding and his weddingBe on one day. And hark! there’s music tells meThat others guess my mind.Enter Chorus with Ach. and Deid. following.Chorus.Now the glorious sun is sunk in the west,And night with shadowy step advances:1570As we,—to the newly betrothed our song addrest,With musical verse and dances,In the order of them who established rites of oldFor maidens to sing this song,—Pray the gifts of heaven to gifts of gold,Joy and a life long.Ach.Good king and father, see thy daughter comeTo hear thee call me son.Lyc.Son if I call thee,1579I understand not yet, and scarce believeThe wonders of this day. And thou, my daughter,Ever my pride and prayer, hast far outrunMy hope of thy good fortune. Blessed be ye both:The gods have made your marriage; let the feastBe solemnized to-night; our good guests hereWhose zeal hath caused our joy, I have bid to share it.Chorus.We live well-ruled by an honoured king,Beloved of the gods, in a happy isle;Where merry winds of the gay sea bringNo foe to our shore, and the heavens smile1590On a peaceful folk secure from fear,Who gather the fruits of the earth at will,And hymn their thanks to the gods, and rearTheir laughing babes unmindful of ill.And ever we keep a feast of delight,The betrothal of hearts, when spirits unite,Creating an offspring of joy, a treasureUnknown to the bad, for whomThe gods foredoomThe glitter of pleasure,And a dark tomb.1600Blessèd therefore O newly betrothed are ye,Tho’ happy to-day ye be,Your happier times ye yet shall see.We make our prayer to the gods.The sun shall prosper the seasons’ yieldWith fuller crops for the wains to bear,And feed our flocks in fold and fieldWith wholesome water and sweetest air.Plenty shall empty her golden horn,And grace shall dwell on the brows of youth,1611And love shall come as the joy of morn,To waken the eyes of pride and truth.Blessèd therefore thy happy folk are we.Tho’ happy to-day we be,Our happier times are yet to see.We render praise to the gods;But chiefest of all in the highest heightTo Love that sitteth in timeless might,That tameth evil, and sorrow ceaseth.And now we wish you again,1620Again and again,His joy that encreaseth,And a long reign.Ach.Stay, stay! and thou, good king, and all here, hear me.I would be measured by my best desire,And that’s for peace and love, and the delightsYour song hath augured: but to all men fateApportions a mixed lot, and ’twas for meForeshown that peace and honour lay apart,1630Wherever pleasure: and to-day’s eventQuestions your hope. I was for this revealed,To lead the Argive battle against Troy:Thither I go; whence to return or notIs out of sight, but yet my marriage-makingEnters with better promise on my lifeThus hand in hand with glorious enterprise.After some days among you I must away,Tho’ ’tis not far.Ul.Well said! So art thou bound.Dio.The war that hung so long will now begin.Lye.I ask one month, Achilles: grant one moon:1641They that could wait so long may longer wait.Chorus.1.Go not, go not, Achilles; is all in vain?Is this the fulfilment of long delight,The promise of favouring heaven,The praise of our song,The choice of Thetis for thee,Thy merry disguise,And happy betrothal?We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,Son of Thetis, we counsel well,1650Do not thy bride this wrong.2.For if to-day thou goest, thou wilt go far,Alas, from us thy comrades away,To a camp of revengeful men,The accursed warBy warning fate forbidden,To angry disdain,A death unworthy.We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,Son of Peleus, we counsel well,1660This doom the oracle told.Lyc.What said the oracle?Ach.It darkly bodedThat glory should be death.Lyc.And so may be:Nay, very like. Yet men who would live well,Weigh not these riddles, but unfold their lifeFrom day to day. Do thou as seemeth best,Nor fear mysterious warnings of the powers.But, if my voice can reckon with thee at all,I’ll tell thee what myself I have grown to think:1670That the best life is oft inglorious.Since the perfecting of ourselves, which seemsOur noblest task, may closelier be pursuedAway from camps and cities and the martOf men, where fame, as it is called, is won,By strife, ambition, competition, fashion,Ay, and the prattle of wit, the deadliest foeTo sober holiness, which, as I think,Loves quiet homes, where nature laps us roundWith musical silence and the happy sights1680That never fret; and day by day the spiritPastures in liberty, with a wide rangeOf peaceful meditation, undisturbed.All which can Scyros offer if thou wilt.—Ul.This speech is idle, thou art bound to me.Ach.I hear you all: and lest it should be saidI once was harsh and heedless, where such wrongWere worse than cowardice, I now recallWhate’er I have said. I will not forth to Troy:I will abide in Scyros, and o’erlook1690The farms and vineyards, and be lessoned wellIn government of arts, and spend my lifeIn love and ease, and whatsoever elseOur good king here hath praised—I will do thisIf my bride bid me. Let her choose for me;Her word shall rule me. If she set our pleasureAbove my honour, I will call that duty,And make it honourable, and so do well.But, as I know her, if she bid me goWhere fate and danger call, then I will go,1700And so do better: and very sure it is,Pleasure is not for him who pleasure serves.Deid.Achilles, son of Thetis! As I love thee,I say, go forth to Troy.Ach.Praised be the Gods,Who have made my long desire my love’s command!Ch.Alas! We have no further plea. Alas!Her ever-venturous spirit forecasts no ill.Lyc.Go, win thy fame, my son; I would not stay thee.Thou art a soldier born. But circumstanceDemands delay, which thou wilt grant.Ach.And thus1710To-night may be the feast. To-morrow mornDo thou, Ulysses, sail to Aulis, therePrepare them for my coming. If, Diomede,Thou wilt to Achaia to collect my men,The time thou usest I can fitly spend,And for some days banish the thought of war.Dio.I will go for thee, prince.Lyc.’Tis settled so.Stand we no longer here: night falls apace.Come to the palace, we will end this day,As it deserves, never to be forgot.
Th.I Thetis am, daughter of that old god,Whose wisdom buried in the deep hath madeThe unfathomed water solemn, and I ruleThe ocean-nymphs, who for their pastime playIn the blue glooms, and darting here and thereChecquer the dark and widespread melancholy1410With everlasting laughter and bright smiles.Of me thou hast heard, and of my son Achilles,By prescient fame renowned first of the Greeks:He is on this island: for ’twas here I set himTo hide him from his foes, and he was safeTill thou betray’dst him—for unwittinglyThat hast thou done to-day. The seeming pedlar,To whom thou leddest Pyrrha, was Ulysses,Who spied to find Achilles, and thro’ theeFound him, alas! Thy Pyrrha was Achilles.Chorus.O daughter of Nereus old,1420Queen of the nymphs that swimBy day in gleams of gold,By night in the silver dim,Forgive in pity, we pray,Forgive the ill we have done.Why didst thou hide this thing from us?For if we had known thy sonWe had guarded him well to-day,Nor ever betrayed him thus.For though we may not ride1430Thy tall sea-horses nor playIn the rainbow-tinted spray,Nor dive down under the tideTo the secret caves of the main,Among thy laughing train;Yet had we served thee well as they,Had we thy secret shared:Nor ever had lost from garden and hallPyrrha the golden-haired,Pyrrha beloved of all.1440Th.(to Deid.). Dost thou say nought?Deid.Alas, alas! my Pyrrha.Th.Art thou lamenting still to have lost thy maid?Deid.I need no tongue to cry my shame; and yetThy mockery doth not grieve me like my loss.Th.I came not here to mock thee, and forbidThy grief, that doth dishonour to my son.Deid.Nay, nay, that word is mine: speak it no more.Th.Weepest thou at comfort? Is deceit so dearTo mortals, that to know good cannot match1450The joy of a delusion whatsoe’er?Deid.What joy was mine shame must forbid to tell.Th.Gods count it shame to be deceived: but menAre shamed not by delusion of the gods.Deid.Then ye know nothing or do not respect.Th.Why what is this thou makest? the more ye have lovedThe more have ye delighted, and the joyI never grudged thee; tho’ there was not oneIn all my company of sea-born nymphs,Who did not daily pray me, with white arms1460Raised in the blue, to let her guard my son.And for his birthright he might well have takenThe service of their sportive train, and livedOn some fair desert isle away from menLike a young god in worship and gay love.But since he is mortal, for his mortal mateI chose out thee; to whom now were he lost,I would not blame thy well-deservèd tears:But lo, I am come to give thee joy, to callThee daughter, and prepare thee for the sight1470Of such a lover, as no lady yetHath sat to await in chamber or in bowerOn any wallèd hill or isle of Greece;Nor yet in Asian cities, whose dark queensLook from the latticed casements over seasOf hanging gardens; nor doth all the worldHold a memorial; not where Ægypt mirrorsThe great smile of her kings and sunsmit fanesIn timeless silence: none hath been like him;And all the giant stones, which men have piledUpon the illustrious dead, shall crumble and join1481The desert dust, ere his high dirging MuseBe dispossessèd of the throne of song.Await him here. While I thy willing maidsWill lead apart, that they may learn what shareTo take in thy rejoicing. Follow me!Ch.Come, come—we follow—we obey thee gladly—We long to learn, goddess, what thou canst teach.[Exeunt Th. and Chor.Deid.Rejoice, she bids me. Ah me, tho’ all heaven spake,I should weep bitterly. My tears, my shame1490Will never leave me. Never now, nevermoreCan I find credit of grace, nor as a rockStand ’twixt my maids and evil; even not deservingMy father’s smile. Why honour we the gods,Who reck not of our honour? How hath she,Self-styled a goddess, mocked me, not respectingMaidenly modesty; but in the pathOf grace, wherein I thought to walk enstatedHigh as my rank without reproach, she hath setA snare for every step; that day by day,1500From morn to night, I might do nothing well;But by most innocent seeming be betrayedTo what most wounds a shamefast life, yieldingTo a man’s unfeignèd feigning; nay nor stayedUntil I had given,—alas, how oft!—My cheek to his lips, my body to his arms;And thinking him a maid as I myself,Have loved, kissed, and embraced him as a maid.O wretched, not to have seen what was so plain!Here on this bank no later than this morn1510Was I beguiled. There is no cure, no cure.I’ll close my eyes for ever, nor see againThe things I have seen, nor be what I have been.[Covers her face weeping.Enter Achilles.Ach.The voices that were here have ceased. Ah, there!Not gone. ’Tis she, and by my cast-off robeSitting alone. I must speak comfort to her,Whoe’er I seem. O Deidamia, see!Pyrrha is found. Weep not for her. I tell theeThy Pyrrha is safe. Despair not. Nay, look up.1519Dost thou not know my voice? ’Tis I myself.Look up, I am Pyrrha.—Ah, now what prayer or pleaMade on my knees can aid me—If thou knowst allAnd wilt not look on me? Yet if thou hearestThou wilt forgive. Nay, if thou lovedst me not,Or if I had wronged thee, thou wouldst scorn me now.Thou dost not look. I am not changed. I loved theeAs like a maiden as I knew: if moreWas that a fault? Now as I am AchillesRevealed to-day to lead the Greeks to Troy,I count that nothing and bow down to thee1530Who hast made me fear,—Let me unveil thy eyes: tho’ thou wouldst hide me,Hide not thyself from me. If gentle forceShould show me that ’tis love that thou wouldst hide ...And love I see. Look on me.Deid.(embracing). Ah Pyrrha, Pyrrha!Ach.Thou dost forgive.Deid.I never dreamed the truth.Ach.And wilt not now look on me!Deid.I dare not look.Ach.What dost thou fear? A monster! I am not changedSave but my dress, and that an AmazonMight wear.Deid.O, I see all.Ach.But who hath told thee?1540Deid.There came one here much like thee when we called,Who said she was a goddess and thy mother.Ach.’Twas she that hid me in my strange disguise,Fearing the oracle.Deid.She praised thee well,And said that thou wouldst come...Ach.What didst thou fear,Hiding thine eyes?Deid.I cannot speak the name.Be Pyrrha still.Ach.Be that my name with thee.Yet hath thy father called me son Achilles.Deid.He knows?Ach.There’s nought to hide: but let us hence.He is coming hither, and with him my foe.1550Let them not find us thus, and thee in tears.[Exeunt.Enter Lycomedes, Ulysses, Diomede, and Abas.Lyc.It may be so, or it may not be so:You have done me an honest service ’gainst your will,And must not wrest it to a false conclusion.I bid you be my guests, and with your presenceHonour the marriage, which ye have brought about.Ye need not tarry long.Ul.Each hour is longWhich holds the Argive ships chained to the shore.This is no time for marriage.Lyc.There’s time for all;A time for wooing and a time for warring:1560And such a feast of joy as offers nowYe shall not often see. Scyros shall show youWhat memory may delight in ’twixt the fraysOf bloody battle.Dio.I am not made for feasts.I join the cry to arms. But make your bridalTo-night, and I’ll abide it.Lyc.I’ll have’t to-night.So shall Achilles’ finding and his weddingBe on one day. And hark! there’s music tells meThat others guess my mind.Enter Chorus with Ach. and Deid. following.Chorus.Now the glorious sun is sunk in the west,And night with shadowy step advances:1570As we,—to the newly betrothed our song addrest,With musical verse and dances,In the order of them who established rites of oldFor maidens to sing this song,—Pray the gifts of heaven to gifts of gold,Joy and a life long.Ach.Good king and father, see thy daughter comeTo hear thee call me son.Lyc.Son if I call thee,1579I understand not yet, and scarce believeThe wonders of this day. And thou, my daughter,Ever my pride and prayer, hast far outrunMy hope of thy good fortune. Blessed be ye both:The gods have made your marriage; let the feastBe solemnized to-night; our good guests hereWhose zeal hath caused our joy, I have bid to share it.Chorus.We live well-ruled by an honoured king,Beloved of the gods, in a happy isle;Where merry winds of the gay sea bringNo foe to our shore, and the heavens smile1590On a peaceful folk secure from fear,Who gather the fruits of the earth at will,And hymn their thanks to the gods, and rearTheir laughing babes unmindful of ill.And ever we keep a feast of delight,The betrothal of hearts, when spirits unite,Creating an offspring of joy, a treasureUnknown to the bad, for whomThe gods foredoomThe glitter of pleasure,And a dark tomb.1600Blessèd therefore O newly betrothed are ye,Tho’ happy to-day ye be,Your happier times ye yet shall see.We make our prayer to the gods.The sun shall prosper the seasons’ yieldWith fuller crops for the wains to bear,And feed our flocks in fold and fieldWith wholesome water and sweetest air.Plenty shall empty her golden horn,And grace shall dwell on the brows of youth,1611And love shall come as the joy of morn,To waken the eyes of pride and truth.Blessèd therefore thy happy folk are we.Tho’ happy to-day we be,Our happier times are yet to see.We render praise to the gods;But chiefest of all in the highest heightTo Love that sitteth in timeless might,That tameth evil, and sorrow ceaseth.And now we wish you again,1620Again and again,His joy that encreaseth,And a long reign.Ach.Stay, stay! and thou, good king, and all here, hear me.I would be measured by my best desire,And that’s for peace and love, and the delightsYour song hath augured: but to all men fateApportions a mixed lot, and ’twas for meForeshown that peace and honour lay apart,1630Wherever pleasure: and to-day’s eventQuestions your hope. I was for this revealed,To lead the Argive battle against Troy:Thither I go; whence to return or notIs out of sight, but yet my marriage-makingEnters with better promise on my lifeThus hand in hand with glorious enterprise.After some days among you I must away,Tho’ ’tis not far.Ul.Well said! So art thou bound.Dio.The war that hung so long will now begin.Lye.I ask one month, Achilles: grant one moon:1641They that could wait so long may longer wait.Chorus.1.Go not, go not, Achilles; is all in vain?Is this the fulfilment of long delight,The promise of favouring heaven,The praise of our song,The choice of Thetis for thee,Thy merry disguise,And happy betrothal?We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,Son of Thetis, we counsel well,1650Do not thy bride this wrong.2.For if to-day thou goest, thou wilt go far,Alas, from us thy comrades away,To a camp of revengeful men,The accursed warBy warning fate forbidden,To angry disdain,A death unworthy.We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,Son of Peleus, we counsel well,1660This doom the oracle told.Lyc.What said the oracle?Ach.It darkly bodedThat glory should be death.Lyc.And so may be:Nay, very like. Yet men who would live well,Weigh not these riddles, but unfold their lifeFrom day to day. Do thou as seemeth best,Nor fear mysterious warnings of the powers.But, if my voice can reckon with thee at all,I’ll tell thee what myself I have grown to think:1670That the best life is oft inglorious.Since the perfecting of ourselves, which seemsOur noblest task, may closelier be pursuedAway from camps and cities and the martOf men, where fame, as it is called, is won,By strife, ambition, competition, fashion,Ay, and the prattle of wit, the deadliest foeTo sober holiness, which, as I think,Loves quiet homes, where nature laps us roundWith musical silence and the happy sights1680That never fret; and day by day the spiritPastures in liberty, with a wide rangeOf peaceful meditation, undisturbed.All which can Scyros offer if thou wilt.—Ul.This speech is idle, thou art bound to me.Ach.I hear you all: and lest it should be saidI once was harsh and heedless, where such wrongWere worse than cowardice, I now recallWhate’er I have said. I will not forth to Troy:I will abide in Scyros, and o’erlook1690The farms and vineyards, and be lessoned wellIn government of arts, and spend my lifeIn love and ease, and whatsoever elseOur good king here hath praised—I will do thisIf my bride bid me. Let her choose for me;Her word shall rule me. If she set our pleasureAbove my honour, I will call that duty,And make it honourable, and so do well.But, as I know her, if she bid me goWhere fate and danger call, then I will go,1700And so do better: and very sure it is,Pleasure is not for him who pleasure serves.Deid.Achilles, son of Thetis! As I love thee,I say, go forth to Troy.Ach.Praised be the Gods,Who have made my long desire my love’s command!Ch.Alas! We have no further plea. Alas!Her ever-venturous spirit forecasts no ill.Lyc.Go, win thy fame, my son; I would not stay thee.Thou art a soldier born. But circumstanceDemands delay, which thou wilt grant.Ach.And thus1710To-night may be the feast. To-morrow mornDo thou, Ulysses, sail to Aulis, therePrepare them for my coming. If, Diomede,Thou wilt to Achaia to collect my men,The time thou usest I can fitly spend,And for some days banish the thought of war.Dio.I will go for thee, prince.Lyc.’Tis settled so.Stand we no longer here: night falls apace.Come to the palace, we will end this day,As it deserves, never to be forgot.
Th.I Thetis am, daughter of that old god,Whose wisdom buried in the deep hath madeThe unfathomed water solemn, and I ruleThe ocean-nymphs, who for their pastime playIn the blue glooms, and darting here and thereChecquer the dark and widespread melancholy1410With everlasting laughter and bright smiles.Of me thou hast heard, and of my son Achilles,By prescient fame renowned first of the Greeks:He is on this island: for ’twas here I set himTo hide him from his foes, and he was safeTill thou betray’dst him—for unwittinglyThat hast thou done to-day. The seeming pedlar,To whom thou leddest Pyrrha, was Ulysses,Who spied to find Achilles, and thro’ theeFound him, alas! Thy Pyrrha was Achilles.Chorus.O daughter of Nereus old,1420Queen of the nymphs that swimBy day in gleams of gold,By night in the silver dim,Forgive in pity, we pray,Forgive the ill we have done.Why didst thou hide this thing from us?For if we had known thy sonWe had guarded him well to-day,Nor ever betrayed him thus.For though we may not ride1430Thy tall sea-horses nor playIn the rainbow-tinted spray,Nor dive down under the tideTo the secret caves of the main,Among thy laughing train;Yet had we served thee well as they,Had we thy secret shared:Nor ever had lost from garden and hallPyrrha the golden-haired,Pyrrha beloved of all.1440Th.(to Deid.). Dost thou say nought?Deid.Alas, alas! my Pyrrha.Th.Art thou lamenting still to have lost thy maid?Deid.I need no tongue to cry my shame; and yetThy mockery doth not grieve me like my loss.Th.I came not here to mock thee, and forbidThy grief, that doth dishonour to my son.Deid.Nay, nay, that word is mine: speak it no more.Th.Weepest thou at comfort? Is deceit so dearTo mortals, that to know good cannot match1450The joy of a delusion whatsoe’er?Deid.What joy was mine shame must forbid to tell.Th.Gods count it shame to be deceived: but menAre shamed not by delusion of the gods.Deid.Then ye know nothing or do not respect.Th.Why what is this thou makest? the more ye have lovedThe more have ye delighted, and the joyI never grudged thee; tho’ there was not oneIn all my company of sea-born nymphs,Who did not daily pray me, with white arms1460Raised in the blue, to let her guard my son.And for his birthright he might well have takenThe service of their sportive train, and livedOn some fair desert isle away from menLike a young god in worship and gay love.But since he is mortal, for his mortal mateI chose out thee; to whom now were he lost,I would not blame thy well-deservèd tears:But lo, I am come to give thee joy, to callThee daughter, and prepare thee for the sight1470Of such a lover, as no lady yetHath sat to await in chamber or in bowerOn any wallèd hill or isle of Greece;Nor yet in Asian cities, whose dark queensLook from the latticed casements over seasOf hanging gardens; nor doth all the worldHold a memorial; not where Ægypt mirrorsThe great smile of her kings and sunsmit fanesIn timeless silence: none hath been like him;And all the giant stones, which men have piledUpon the illustrious dead, shall crumble and join1481The desert dust, ere his high dirging MuseBe dispossessèd of the throne of song.Await him here. While I thy willing maidsWill lead apart, that they may learn what shareTo take in thy rejoicing. Follow me!Ch.Come, come—we follow—we obey thee gladly—We long to learn, goddess, what thou canst teach.[Exeunt Th. and Chor.Deid.Rejoice, she bids me. Ah me, tho’ all heaven spake,I should weep bitterly. My tears, my shame1490Will never leave me. Never now, nevermoreCan I find credit of grace, nor as a rockStand ’twixt my maids and evil; even not deservingMy father’s smile. Why honour we the gods,Who reck not of our honour? How hath she,Self-styled a goddess, mocked me, not respectingMaidenly modesty; but in the pathOf grace, wherein I thought to walk enstatedHigh as my rank without reproach, she hath setA snare for every step; that day by day,1500From morn to night, I might do nothing well;But by most innocent seeming be betrayedTo what most wounds a shamefast life, yieldingTo a man’s unfeignèd feigning; nay nor stayedUntil I had given,—alas, how oft!—My cheek to his lips, my body to his arms;And thinking him a maid as I myself,Have loved, kissed, and embraced him as a maid.O wretched, not to have seen what was so plain!Here on this bank no later than this morn1510Was I beguiled. There is no cure, no cure.I’ll close my eyes for ever, nor see againThe things I have seen, nor be what I have been.[Covers her face weeping.Enter Achilles.Ach.The voices that were here have ceased. Ah, there!Not gone. ’Tis she, and by my cast-off robeSitting alone. I must speak comfort to her,Whoe’er I seem. O Deidamia, see!Pyrrha is found. Weep not for her. I tell theeThy Pyrrha is safe. Despair not. Nay, look up.1519Dost thou not know my voice? ’Tis I myself.Look up, I am Pyrrha.—Ah, now what prayer or pleaMade on my knees can aid me—If thou knowst allAnd wilt not look on me? Yet if thou hearestThou wilt forgive. Nay, if thou lovedst me not,Or if I had wronged thee, thou wouldst scorn me now.Thou dost not look. I am not changed. I loved theeAs like a maiden as I knew: if moreWas that a fault? Now as I am AchillesRevealed to-day to lead the Greeks to Troy,I count that nothing and bow down to thee1530Who hast made me fear,—Let me unveil thy eyes: tho’ thou wouldst hide me,Hide not thyself from me. If gentle forceShould show me that ’tis love that thou wouldst hide ...And love I see. Look on me.Deid.(embracing). Ah Pyrrha, Pyrrha!Ach.Thou dost forgive.Deid.I never dreamed the truth.Ach.And wilt not now look on me!Deid.I dare not look.Ach.What dost thou fear? A monster! I am not changedSave but my dress, and that an AmazonMight wear.Deid.O, I see all.Ach.But who hath told thee?1540Deid.There came one here much like thee when we called,Who said she was a goddess and thy mother.Ach.’Twas she that hid me in my strange disguise,Fearing the oracle.Deid.She praised thee well,And said that thou wouldst come...Ach.What didst thou fear,Hiding thine eyes?Deid.I cannot speak the name.Be Pyrrha still.Ach.Be that my name with thee.Yet hath thy father called me son Achilles.Deid.He knows?Ach.There’s nought to hide: but let us hence.He is coming hither, and with him my foe.1550Let them not find us thus, and thee in tears.[Exeunt.Enter Lycomedes, Ulysses, Diomede, and Abas.Lyc.It may be so, or it may not be so:You have done me an honest service ’gainst your will,And must not wrest it to a false conclusion.I bid you be my guests, and with your presenceHonour the marriage, which ye have brought about.Ye need not tarry long.Ul.Each hour is longWhich holds the Argive ships chained to the shore.This is no time for marriage.Lyc.There’s time for all;A time for wooing and a time for warring:1560And such a feast of joy as offers nowYe shall not often see. Scyros shall show youWhat memory may delight in ’twixt the fraysOf bloody battle.Dio.I am not made for feasts.I join the cry to arms. But make your bridalTo-night, and I’ll abide it.Lyc.I’ll have’t to-night.So shall Achilles’ finding and his weddingBe on one day. And hark! there’s music tells meThat others guess my mind.Enter Chorus with Ach. and Deid. following.Chorus.Now the glorious sun is sunk in the west,And night with shadowy step advances:1570As we,—to the newly betrothed our song addrest,With musical verse and dances,In the order of them who established rites of oldFor maidens to sing this song,—Pray the gifts of heaven to gifts of gold,Joy and a life long.Ach.Good king and father, see thy daughter comeTo hear thee call me son.Lyc.Son if I call thee,1579I understand not yet, and scarce believeThe wonders of this day. And thou, my daughter,Ever my pride and prayer, hast far outrunMy hope of thy good fortune. Blessed be ye both:The gods have made your marriage; let the feastBe solemnized to-night; our good guests hereWhose zeal hath caused our joy, I have bid to share it.Chorus.We live well-ruled by an honoured king,Beloved of the gods, in a happy isle;Where merry winds of the gay sea bringNo foe to our shore, and the heavens smile1590On a peaceful folk secure from fear,Who gather the fruits of the earth at will,And hymn their thanks to the gods, and rearTheir laughing babes unmindful of ill.And ever we keep a feast of delight,The betrothal of hearts, when spirits unite,Creating an offspring of joy, a treasureUnknown to the bad, for whomThe gods foredoomThe glitter of pleasure,And a dark tomb.1600Blessèd therefore O newly betrothed are ye,Tho’ happy to-day ye be,Your happier times ye yet shall see.We make our prayer to the gods.The sun shall prosper the seasons’ yieldWith fuller crops for the wains to bear,And feed our flocks in fold and fieldWith wholesome water and sweetest air.Plenty shall empty her golden horn,And grace shall dwell on the brows of youth,1611And love shall come as the joy of morn,To waken the eyes of pride and truth.Blessèd therefore thy happy folk are we.Tho’ happy to-day we be,Our happier times are yet to see.We render praise to the gods;But chiefest of all in the highest heightTo Love that sitteth in timeless might,That tameth evil, and sorrow ceaseth.And now we wish you again,1620Again and again,His joy that encreaseth,And a long reign.Ach.Stay, stay! and thou, good king, and all here, hear me.I would be measured by my best desire,And that’s for peace and love, and the delightsYour song hath augured: but to all men fateApportions a mixed lot, and ’twas for meForeshown that peace and honour lay apart,1630Wherever pleasure: and to-day’s eventQuestions your hope. I was for this revealed,To lead the Argive battle against Troy:Thither I go; whence to return or notIs out of sight, but yet my marriage-makingEnters with better promise on my lifeThus hand in hand with glorious enterprise.After some days among you I must away,Tho’ ’tis not far.Ul.Well said! So art thou bound.Dio.The war that hung so long will now begin.Lye.I ask one month, Achilles: grant one moon:1641They that could wait so long may longer wait.Chorus.1.Go not, go not, Achilles; is all in vain?Is this the fulfilment of long delight,The promise of favouring heaven,The praise of our song,The choice of Thetis for thee,Thy merry disguise,And happy betrothal?We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,Son of Thetis, we counsel well,1650Do not thy bride this wrong.2.For if to-day thou goest, thou wilt go far,Alas, from us thy comrades away,To a camp of revengeful men,The accursed warBy warning fate forbidden,To angry disdain,A death unworthy.We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,Son of Peleus, we counsel well,1660This doom the oracle told.Lyc.What said the oracle?Ach.It darkly bodedThat glory should be death.Lyc.And so may be:Nay, very like. Yet men who would live well,Weigh not these riddles, but unfold their lifeFrom day to day. Do thou as seemeth best,Nor fear mysterious warnings of the powers.But, if my voice can reckon with thee at all,I’ll tell thee what myself I have grown to think:1670That the best life is oft inglorious.Since the perfecting of ourselves, which seemsOur noblest task, may closelier be pursuedAway from camps and cities and the martOf men, where fame, as it is called, is won,By strife, ambition, competition, fashion,Ay, and the prattle of wit, the deadliest foeTo sober holiness, which, as I think,Loves quiet homes, where nature laps us roundWith musical silence and the happy sights1680That never fret; and day by day the spiritPastures in liberty, with a wide rangeOf peaceful meditation, undisturbed.All which can Scyros offer if thou wilt.—Ul.This speech is idle, thou art bound to me.Ach.I hear you all: and lest it should be saidI once was harsh and heedless, where such wrongWere worse than cowardice, I now recallWhate’er I have said. I will not forth to Troy:I will abide in Scyros, and o’erlook1690The farms and vineyards, and be lessoned wellIn government of arts, and spend my lifeIn love and ease, and whatsoever elseOur good king here hath praised—I will do thisIf my bride bid me. Let her choose for me;Her word shall rule me. If she set our pleasureAbove my honour, I will call that duty,And make it honourable, and so do well.But, as I know her, if she bid me goWhere fate and danger call, then I will go,1700And so do better: and very sure it is,Pleasure is not for him who pleasure serves.Deid.Achilles, son of Thetis! As I love thee,I say, go forth to Troy.Ach.Praised be the Gods,Who have made my long desire my love’s command!Ch.Alas! We have no further plea. Alas!Her ever-venturous spirit forecasts no ill.Lyc.Go, win thy fame, my son; I would not stay thee.Thou art a soldier born. But circumstanceDemands delay, which thou wilt grant.Ach.And thus1710To-night may be the feast. To-morrow mornDo thou, Ulysses, sail to Aulis, therePrepare them for my coming. If, Diomede,Thou wilt to Achaia to collect my men,The time thou usest I can fitly spend,And for some days banish the thought of war.Dio.I will go for thee, prince.Lyc.’Tis settled so.Stand we no longer here: night falls apace.Come to the palace, we will end this day,As it deserves, never to be forgot.
Th.I Thetis am, daughter of that old god,Whose wisdom buried in the deep hath madeThe unfathomed water solemn, and I ruleThe ocean-nymphs, who for their pastime playIn the blue glooms, and darting here and thereChecquer the dark and widespread melancholy1410With everlasting laughter and bright smiles.Of me thou hast heard, and of my son Achilles,By prescient fame renowned first of the Greeks:He is on this island: for ’twas here I set himTo hide him from his foes, and he was safeTill thou betray’dst him—for unwittinglyThat hast thou done to-day. The seeming pedlar,To whom thou leddest Pyrrha, was Ulysses,Who spied to find Achilles, and thro’ theeFound him, alas! Thy Pyrrha was Achilles.Chorus.O daughter of Nereus old,1420Queen of the nymphs that swimBy day in gleams of gold,By night in the silver dim,Forgive in pity, we pray,Forgive the ill we have done.Why didst thou hide this thing from us?For if we had known thy sonWe had guarded him well to-day,Nor ever betrayed him thus.For though we may not ride1430Thy tall sea-horses nor playIn the rainbow-tinted spray,Nor dive down under the tideTo the secret caves of the main,Among thy laughing train;Yet had we served thee well as they,Had we thy secret shared:Nor ever had lost from garden and hallPyrrha the golden-haired,Pyrrha beloved of all.1440Th.(to Deid.). Dost thou say nought?Deid.Alas, alas! my Pyrrha.Th.Art thou lamenting still to have lost thy maid?Deid.I need no tongue to cry my shame; and yetThy mockery doth not grieve me like my loss.Th.I came not here to mock thee, and forbidThy grief, that doth dishonour to my son.Deid.Nay, nay, that word is mine: speak it no more.Th.Weepest thou at comfort? Is deceit so dearTo mortals, that to know good cannot match1450The joy of a delusion whatsoe’er?Deid.What joy was mine shame must forbid to tell.Th.Gods count it shame to be deceived: but menAre shamed not by delusion of the gods.Deid.Then ye know nothing or do not respect.Th.Why what is this thou makest? the more ye have lovedThe more have ye delighted, and the joyI never grudged thee; tho’ there was not oneIn all my company of sea-born nymphs,Who did not daily pray me, with white arms1460Raised in the blue, to let her guard my son.And for his birthright he might well have takenThe service of their sportive train, and livedOn some fair desert isle away from menLike a young god in worship and gay love.But since he is mortal, for his mortal mateI chose out thee; to whom now were he lost,I would not blame thy well-deservèd tears:But lo, I am come to give thee joy, to callThee daughter, and prepare thee for the sight1470Of such a lover, as no lady yetHath sat to await in chamber or in bowerOn any wallèd hill or isle of Greece;Nor yet in Asian cities, whose dark queensLook from the latticed casements over seasOf hanging gardens; nor doth all the worldHold a memorial; not where Ægypt mirrorsThe great smile of her kings and sunsmit fanesIn timeless silence: none hath been like him;And all the giant stones, which men have piledUpon the illustrious dead, shall crumble and join1481The desert dust, ere his high dirging MuseBe dispossessèd of the throne of song.Await him here. While I thy willing maidsWill lead apart, that they may learn what shareTo take in thy rejoicing. Follow me!Ch.Come, come—we follow—we obey thee gladly—We long to learn, goddess, what thou canst teach.[Exeunt Th. and Chor.Deid.Rejoice, she bids me. Ah me, tho’ all heaven spake,I should weep bitterly. My tears, my shame1490Will never leave me. Never now, nevermoreCan I find credit of grace, nor as a rockStand ’twixt my maids and evil; even not deservingMy father’s smile. Why honour we the gods,Who reck not of our honour? How hath she,Self-styled a goddess, mocked me, not respectingMaidenly modesty; but in the pathOf grace, wherein I thought to walk enstatedHigh as my rank without reproach, she hath setA snare for every step; that day by day,1500From morn to night, I might do nothing well;But by most innocent seeming be betrayedTo what most wounds a shamefast life, yieldingTo a man’s unfeignèd feigning; nay nor stayedUntil I had given,—alas, how oft!—My cheek to his lips, my body to his arms;And thinking him a maid as I myself,Have loved, kissed, and embraced him as a maid.O wretched, not to have seen what was so plain!Here on this bank no later than this morn1510Was I beguiled. There is no cure, no cure.I’ll close my eyes for ever, nor see againThe things I have seen, nor be what I have been.[Covers her face weeping.Enter Achilles.Ach.The voices that were here have ceased. Ah, there!Not gone. ’Tis she, and by my cast-off robeSitting alone. I must speak comfort to her,Whoe’er I seem. O Deidamia, see!Pyrrha is found. Weep not for her. I tell theeThy Pyrrha is safe. Despair not. Nay, look up.1519Dost thou not know my voice? ’Tis I myself.Look up, I am Pyrrha.—Ah, now what prayer or pleaMade on my knees can aid me—If thou knowst allAnd wilt not look on me? Yet if thou hearestThou wilt forgive. Nay, if thou lovedst me not,Or if I had wronged thee, thou wouldst scorn me now.Thou dost not look. I am not changed. I loved theeAs like a maiden as I knew: if moreWas that a fault? Now as I am AchillesRevealed to-day to lead the Greeks to Troy,I count that nothing and bow down to thee1530Who hast made me fear,—Let me unveil thy eyes: tho’ thou wouldst hide me,Hide not thyself from me. If gentle forceShould show me that ’tis love that thou wouldst hide ...And love I see. Look on me.Deid.(embracing). Ah Pyrrha, Pyrrha!Ach.Thou dost forgive.Deid.I never dreamed the truth.Ach.And wilt not now look on me!Deid.I dare not look.Ach.What dost thou fear? A monster! I am not changedSave but my dress, and that an AmazonMight wear.Deid.O, I see all.Ach.But who hath told thee?1540Deid.There came one here much like thee when we called,Who said she was a goddess and thy mother.Ach.’Twas she that hid me in my strange disguise,Fearing the oracle.Deid.She praised thee well,And said that thou wouldst come...Ach.What didst thou fear,Hiding thine eyes?Deid.I cannot speak the name.Be Pyrrha still.Ach.Be that my name with thee.Yet hath thy father called me son Achilles.Deid.He knows?Ach.There’s nought to hide: but let us hence.He is coming hither, and with him my foe.1550Let them not find us thus, and thee in tears.[Exeunt.Enter Lycomedes, Ulysses, Diomede, and Abas.Lyc.It may be so, or it may not be so:You have done me an honest service ’gainst your will,And must not wrest it to a false conclusion.I bid you be my guests, and with your presenceHonour the marriage, which ye have brought about.Ye need not tarry long.Ul.Each hour is longWhich holds the Argive ships chained to the shore.This is no time for marriage.Lyc.There’s time for all;A time for wooing and a time for warring:1560And such a feast of joy as offers nowYe shall not often see. Scyros shall show youWhat memory may delight in ’twixt the fraysOf bloody battle.Dio.I am not made for feasts.I join the cry to arms. But make your bridalTo-night, and I’ll abide it.Lyc.I’ll have’t to-night.So shall Achilles’ finding and his weddingBe on one day. And hark! there’s music tells meThat others guess my mind.Enter Chorus with Ach. and Deid. following.Chorus.Now the glorious sun is sunk in the west,And night with shadowy step advances:1570As we,—to the newly betrothed our song addrest,With musical verse and dances,In the order of them who established rites of oldFor maidens to sing this song,—Pray the gifts of heaven to gifts of gold,Joy and a life long.Ach.Good king and father, see thy daughter comeTo hear thee call me son.Lyc.Son if I call thee,1579I understand not yet, and scarce believeThe wonders of this day. And thou, my daughter,Ever my pride and prayer, hast far outrunMy hope of thy good fortune. Blessed be ye both:The gods have made your marriage; let the feastBe solemnized to-night; our good guests hereWhose zeal hath caused our joy, I have bid to share it.Chorus.We live well-ruled by an honoured king,Beloved of the gods, in a happy isle;Where merry winds of the gay sea bringNo foe to our shore, and the heavens smile1590On a peaceful folk secure from fear,Who gather the fruits of the earth at will,And hymn their thanks to the gods, and rearTheir laughing babes unmindful of ill.And ever we keep a feast of delight,The betrothal of hearts, when spirits unite,Creating an offspring of joy, a treasureUnknown to the bad, for whomThe gods foredoomThe glitter of pleasure,And a dark tomb.1600Blessèd therefore O newly betrothed are ye,Tho’ happy to-day ye be,Your happier times ye yet shall see.We make our prayer to the gods.The sun shall prosper the seasons’ yieldWith fuller crops for the wains to bear,And feed our flocks in fold and fieldWith wholesome water and sweetest air.Plenty shall empty her golden horn,And grace shall dwell on the brows of youth,1611And love shall come as the joy of morn,To waken the eyes of pride and truth.Blessèd therefore thy happy folk are we.Tho’ happy to-day we be,Our happier times are yet to see.We render praise to the gods;But chiefest of all in the highest heightTo Love that sitteth in timeless might,That tameth evil, and sorrow ceaseth.And now we wish you again,1620Again and again,His joy that encreaseth,And a long reign.Ach.Stay, stay! and thou, good king, and all here, hear me.I would be measured by my best desire,And that’s for peace and love, and the delightsYour song hath augured: but to all men fateApportions a mixed lot, and ’twas for meForeshown that peace and honour lay apart,1630Wherever pleasure: and to-day’s eventQuestions your hope. I was for this revealed,To lead the Argive battle against Troy:Thither I go; whence to return or notIs out of sight, but yet my marriage-makingEnters with better promise on my lifeThus hand in hand with glorious enterprise.After some days among you I must away,Tho’ ’tis not far.Ul.Well said! So art thou bound.Dio.The war that hung so long will now begin.Lye.I ask one month, Achilles: grant one moon:1641They that could wait so long may longer wait.Chorus.1.Go not, go not, Achilles; is all in vain?Is this the fulfilment of long delight,The promise of favouring heaven,The praise of our song,The choice of Thetis for thee,Thy merry disguise,And happy betrothal?We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,Son of Thetis, we counsel well,1650Do not thy bride this wrong.2.For if to-day thou goest, thou wilt go far,Alas, from us thy comrades away,To a camp of revengeful men,The accursed warBy warning fate forbidden,To angry disdain,A death unworthy.We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,Son of Peleus, we counsel well,1660This doom the oracle told.Lyc.What said the oracle?Ach.It darkly bodedThat glory should be death.Lyc.And so may be:Nay, very like. Yet men who would live well,Weigh not these riddles, but unfold their lifeFrom day to day. Do thou as seemeth best,Nor fear mysterious warnings of the powers.But, if my voice can reckon with thee at all,I’ll tell thee what myself I have grown to think:1670That the best life is oft inglorious.Since the perfecting of ourselves, which seemsOur noblest task, may closelier be pursuedAway from camps and cities and the martOf men, where fame, as it is called, is won,By strife, ambition, competition, fashion,Ay, and the prattle of wit, the deadliest foeTo sober holiness, which, as I think,Loves quiet homes, where nature laps us roundWith musical silence and the happy sights1680That never fret; and day by day the spiritPastures in liberty, with a wide rangeOf peaceful meditation, undisturbed.All which can Scyros offer if thou wilt.—Ul.This speech is idle, thou art bound to me.Ach.I hear you all: and lest it should be saidI once was harsh and heedless, where such wrongWere worse than cowardice, I now recallWhate’er I have said. I will not forth to Troy:I will abide in Scyros, and o’erlook1690The farms and vineyards, and be lessoned wellIn government of arts, and spend my lifeIn love and ease, and whatsoever elseOur good king here hath praised—I will do thisIf my bride bid me. Let her choose for me;Her word shall rule me. If she set our pleasureAbove my honour, I will call that duty,And make it honourable, and so do well.But, as I know her, if she bid me goWhere fate and danger call, then I will go,1700And so do better: and very sure it is,Pleasure is not for him who pleasure serves.Deid.Achilles, son of Thetis! As I love thee,I say, go forth to Troy.Ach.Praised be the Gods,Who have made my long desire my love’s command!Ch.Alas! We have no further plea. Alas!Her ever-venturous spirit forecasts no ill.Lyc.Go, win thy fame, my son; I would not stay thee.Thou art a soldier born. But circumstanceDemands delay, which thou wilt grant.Ach.And thus1710To-night may be the feast. To-morrow mornDo thou, Ulysses, sail to Aulis, therePrepare them for my coming. If, Diomede,Thou wilt to Achaia to collect my men,The time thou usest I can fitly spend,And for some days banish the thought of war.Dio.I will go for thee, prince.Lyc.’Tis settled so.Stand we no longer here: night falls apace.Come to the palace, we will end this day,As it deserves, never to be forgot.
Th.I Thetis am, daughter of that old god,Whose wisdom buried in the deep hath madeThe unfathomed water solemn, and I ruleThe ocean-nymphs, who for their pastime playIn the blue glooms, and darting here and thereChecquer the dark and widespread melancholy1410With everlasting laughter and bright smiles.Of me thou hast heard, and of my son Achilles,By prescient fame renowned first of the Greeks:He is on this island: for ’twas here I set himTo hide him from his foes, and he was safeTill thou betray’dst him—for unwittinglyThat hast thou done to-day. The seeming pedlar,To whom thou leddest Pyrrha, was Ulysses,Who spied to find Achilles, and thro’ theeFound him, alas! Thy Pyrrha was Achilles.
Th.I Thetis am, daughter of that old god,
Whose wisdom buried in the deep hath made
The unfathomed water solemn, and I rule
The ocean-nymphs, who for their pastime play
In the blue glooms, and darting here and there
Checquer the dark and widespread melancholy
With everlasting laughter and bright smiles.
Of me thou hast heard, and of my son Achilles,
By prescient fame renowned first of the Greeks:
He is on this island: for ’twas here I set him
To hide him from his foes, and he was safe
Till thou betray’dst him—for unwittingly
That hast thou done to-day. The seeming pedlar,
To whom thou leddest Pyrrha, was Ulysses,
Who spied to find Achilles, and thro’ thee
Found him, alas! Thy Pyrrha was Achilles.
Chorus.
Chorus.
O daughter of Nereus old,1420Queen of the nymphs that swimBy day in gleams of gold,By night in the silver dim,Forgive in pity, we pray,Forgive the ill we have done.Why didst thou hide this thing from us?For if we had known thy sonWe had guarded him well to-day,Nor ever betrayed him thus.
O daughter of Nereus old,1420
Queen of the nymphs that swim
By day in gleams of gold,
By night in the silver dim,
Forgive in pity, we pray,
Forgive the ill we have done.
Why didst thou hide this thing from us?
For if we had known thy son
We had guarded him well to-day,
Nor ever betrayed him thus.
For though we may not ride1430Thy tall sea-horses nor playIn the rainbow-tinted spray,Nor dive down under the tideTo the secret caves of the main,Among thy laughing train;Yet had we served thee well as they,Had we thy secret shared:Nor ever had lost from garden and hallPyrrha the golden-haired,Pyrrha beloved of all.1440
For though we may not ride1430
Thy tall sea-horses nor play
In the rainbow-tinted spray,
Nor dive down under the tide
To the secret caves of the main,
Among thy laughing train;
Yet had we served thee well as they,
Had we thy secret shared:
Nor ever had lost from garden and hall
Pyrrha the golden-haired,
Pyrrha beloved of all.1440
Th.(to Deid.). Dost thou say nought?
Th.(to Deid.). Dost thou say nought?
Deid.Alas, alas! my Pyrrha.
Deid.Alas, alas! my Pyrrha.
Th.Art thou lamenting still to have lost thy maid?
Th.Art thou lamenting still to have lost thy maid?
Deid.I need no tongue to cry my shame; and yetThy mockery doth not grieve me like my loss.
Deid.I need no tongue to cry my shame; and yet
Thy mockery doth not grieve me like my loss.
Th.I came not here to mock thee, and forbidThy grief, that doth dishonour to my son.
Th.I came not here to mock thee, and forbid
Thy grief, that doth dishonour to my son.
Deid.Nay, nay, that word is mine: speak it no more.
Deid.Nay, nay, that word is mine: speak it no more.
Th.Weepest thou at comfort? Is deceit so dearTo mortals, that to know good cannot match1450The joy of a delusion whatsoe’er?
Th.Weepest thou at comfort? Is deceit so dear
To mortals, that to know good cannot match
The joy of a delusion whatsoe’er?
Deid.What joy was mine shame must forbid to tell.
Deid.What joy was mine shame must forbid to tell.
Th.Gods count it shame to be deceived: but menAre shamed not by delusion of the gods.
Th.Gods count it shame to be deceived: but men
Are shamed not by delusion of the gods.
Deid.Then ye know nothing or do not respect.
Deid.Then ye know nothing or do not respect.
Th.Why what is this thou makest? the more ye have lovedThe more have ye delighted, and the joyI never grudged thee; tho’ there was not oneIn all my company of sea-born nymphs,Who did not daily pray me, with white arms1460Raised in the blue, to let her guard my son.And for his birthright he might well have takenThe service of their sportive train, and livedOn some fair desert isle away from menLike a young god in worship and gay love.But since he is mortal, for his mortal mateI chose out thee; to whom now were he lost,I would not blame thy well-deservèd tears:But lo, I am come to give thee joy, to callThee daughter, and prepare thee for the sight1470Of such a lover, as no lady yetHath sat to await in chamber or in bowerOn any wallèd hill or isle of Greece;Nor yet in Asian cities, whose dark queensLook from the latticed casements over seasOf hanging gardens; nor doth all the worldHold a memorial; not where Ægypt mirrorsThe great smile of her kings and sunsmit fanesIn timeless silence: none hath been like him;And all the giant stones, which men have piledUpon the illustrious dead, shall crumble and join1481The desert dust, ere his high dirging MuseBe dispossessèd of the throne of song.Await him here. While I thy willing maidsWill lead apart, that they may learn what shareTo take in thy rejoicing. Follow me!
Th.Why what is this thou makest? the more ye have loved
The more have ye delighted, and the joy
I never grudged thee; tho’ there was not one
In all my company of sea-born nymphs,
Who did not daily pray me, with white arms
Raised in the blue, to let her guard my son.
And for his birthright he might well have taken
The service of their sportive train, and lived
On some fair desert isle away from men
Like a young god in worship and gay love.
But since he is mortal, for his mortal mate
I chose out thee; to whom now were he lost,
I would not blame thy well-deservèd tears:
But lo, I am come to give thee joy, to call
Thee daughter, and prepare thee for the sight
Of such a lover, as no lady yet
Hath sat to await in chamber or in bower
On any wallèd hill or isle of Greece;
Nor yet in Asian cities, whose dark queens
Look from the latticed casements over seas
Of hanging gardens; nor doth all the world
Hold a memorial; not where Ægypt mirrors
The great smile of her kings and sunsmit fanes
In timeless silence: none hath been like him;
And all the giant stones, which men have piled
Upon the illustrious dead, shall crumble and join
The desert dust, ere his high dirging Muse
Be dispossessèd of the throne of song.
Await him here. While I thy willing maids
Will lead apart, that they may learn what share
To take in thy rejoicing. Follow me!
Ch.Come, come—we follow—we obey thee gladly—We long to learn, goddess, what thou canst teach.[Exeunt Th. and Chor.
Ch.Come, come—we follow—we obey thee gladly—
We long to learn, goddess, what thou canst teach.
[Exeunt Th. and Chor.
Deid.Rejoice, she bids me. Ah me, tho’ all heaven spake,I should weep bitterly. My tears, my shame1490Will never leave me. Never now, nevermoreCan I find credit of grace, nor as a rockStand ’twixt my maids and evil; even not deservingMy father’s smile. Why honour we the gods,Who reck not of our honour? How hath she,Self-styled a goddess, mocked me, not respectingMaidenly modesty; but in the pathOf grace, wherein I thought to walk enstatedHigh as my rank without reproach, she hath setA snare for every step; that day by day,1500From morn to night, I might do nothing well;But by most innocent seeming be betrayedTo what most wounds a shamefast life, yieldingTo a man’s unfeignèd feigning; nay nor stayedUntil I had given,—alas, how oft!—My cheek to his lips, my body to his arms;And thinking him a maid as I myself,Have loved, kissed, and embraced him as a maid.O wretched, not to have seen what was so plain!Here on this bank no later than this morn1510Was I beguiled. There is no cure, no cure.I’ll close my eyes for ever, nor see againThe things I have seen, nor be what I have been.[Covers her face weeping.
Deid.Rejoice, she bids me. Ah me, tho’ all heaven spake,
I should weep bitterly. My tears, my shame
Will never leave me. Never now, nevermore
Can I find credit of grace, nor as a rock
Stand ’twixt my maids and evil; even not deserving
My father’s smile. Why honour we the gods,
Who reck not of our honour? How hath she,
Self-styled a goddess, mocked me, not respecting
Maidenly modesty; but in the path
Of grace, wherein I thought to walk enstated
High as my rank without reproach, she hath set
A snare for every step; that day by day,
From morn to night, I might do nothing well;
But by most innocent seeming be betrayed
To what most wounds a shamefast life, yielding
To a man’s unfeignèd feigning; nay nor stayed
Until I had given,—alas, how oft!—
My cheek to his lips, my body to his arms;
And thinking him a maid as I myself,
Have loved, kissed, and embraced him as a maid.
O wretched, not to have seen what was so plain!
Here on this bank no later than this morn
Was I beguiled. There is no cure, no cure.
I’ll close my eyes for ever, nor see again
The things I have seen, nor be what I have been.
[Covers her face weeping.
Enter Achilles.
Enter Achilles.
Ach.The voices that were here have ceased. Ah, there!Not gone. ’Tis she, and by my cast-off robeSitting alone. I must speak comfort to her,Whoe’er I seem. O Deidamia, see!Pyrrha is found. Weep not for her. I tell theeThy Pyrrha is safe. Despair not. Nay, look up.1519Dost thou not know my voice? ’Tis I myself.Look up, I am Pyrrha.—Ah, now what prayer or pleaMade on my knees can aid me—If thou knowst allAnd wilt not look on me? Yet if thou hearestThou wilt forgive. Nay, if thou lovedst me not,Or if I had wronged thee, thou wouldst scorn me now.Thou dost not look. I am not changed. I loved theeAs like a maiden as I knew: if moreWas that a fault? Now as I am AchillesRevealed to-day to lead the Greeks to Troy,I count that nothing and bow down to thee1530Who hast made me fear,—Let me unveil thy eyes: tho’ thou wouldst hide me,Hide not thyself from me. If gentle forceShould show me that ’tis love that thou wouldst hide ...And love I see. Look on me.
Ach.The voices that were here have ceased. Ah, there!
Not gone. ’Tis she, and by my cast-off robe
Sitting alone. I must speak comfort to her,
Whoe’er I seem. O Deidamia, see!
Pyrrha is found. Weep not for her. I tell thee
Thy Pyrrha is safe. Despair not. Nay, look up.
Dost thou not know my voice? ’Tis I myself.
Look up, I am Pyrrha.—Ah, now what prayer or plea
Made on my knees can aid me—If thou knowst all
And wilt not look on me? Yet if thou hearest
Thou wilt forgive. Nay, if thou lovedst me not,
Or if I had wronged thee, thou wouldst scorn me now.
Thou dost not look. I am not changed. I loved thee
As like a maiden as I knew: if more
Was that a fault? Now as I am Achilles
Revealed to-day to lead the Greeks to Troy,
I count that nothing and bow down to thee
Who hast made me fear,—
Let me unveil thy eyes: tho’ thou wouldst hide me,
Hide not thyself from me. If gentle force
Should show me that ’tis love that thou wouldst hide ...
And love I see. Look on me.
Deid.(embracing). Ah Pyrrha, Pyrrha!
Deid.(embracing). Ah Pyrrha, Pyrrha!
Ach.Thou dost forgive.
Ach.Thou dost forgive.
Deid.I never dreamed the truth.
Deid.I never dreamed the truth.
Ach.And wilt not now look on me!
Ach.And wilt not now look on me!
Deid.I dare not look.
Deid.I dare not look.
Ach.What dost thou fear? A monster! I am not changedSave but my dress, and that an AmazonMight wear.
Ach.What dost thou fear? A monster! I am not changed
Save but my dress, and that an Amazon
Might wear.
Deid.O, I see all.
Deid.O, I see all.
Ach.But who hath told thee?
Ach.But who hath told thee?
1540Deid.There came one here much like thee when we called,Who said she was a goddess and thy mother.
Deid.There came one here much like thee when we called,
Who said she was a goddess and thy mother.
Ach.’Twas she that hid me in my strange disguise,Fearing the oracle.
Ach.’Twas she that hid me in my strange disguise,
Fearing the oracle.
Deid.She praised thee well,And said that thou wouldst come...
Deid.She praised thee well,
And said that thou wouldst come...
Ach.What didst thou fear,Hiding thine eyes?
Ach.What didst thou fear,
Hiding thine eyes?
Deid.I cannot speak the name.Be Pyrrha still.
Deid.I cannot speak the name.
Be Pyrrha still.
Ach.Be that my name with thee.Yet hath thy father called me son Achilles.
Ach.Be that my name with thee.
Yet hath thy father called me son Achilles.
Deid.He knows?
Deid.He knows?
Ach.There’s nought to hide: but let us hence.He is coming hither, and with him my foe.1550Let them not find us thus, and thee in tears.[Exeunt.
Ach.There’s nought to hide: but let us hence.
He is coming hither, and with him my foe.
Let them not find us thus, and thee in tears.
[Exeunt.
Enter Lycomedes, Ulysses, Diomede, and Abas.
Enter Lycomedes, Ulysses, Diomede, and Abas.
Lyc.It may be so, or it may not be so:You have done me an honest service ’gainst your will,And must not wrest it to a false conclusion.I bid you be my guests, and with your presenceHonour the marriage, which ye have brought about.Ye need not tarry long.
Lyc.It may be so, or it may not be so:
You have done me an honest service ’gainst your will,
And must not wrest it to a false conclusion.
I bid you be my guests, and with your presence
Honour the marriage, which ye have brought about.
Ye need not tarry long.
Ul.Each hour is longWhich holds the Argive ships chained to the shore.This is no time for marriage.
Ul.Each hour is long
Which holds the Argive ships chained to the shore.
This is no time for marriage.
Lyc.There’s time for all;A time for wooing and a time for warring:1560And such a feast of joy as offers nowYe shall not often see. Scyros shall show youWhat memory may delight in ’twixt the fraysOf bloody battle.
Lyc.There’s time for all;
A time for wooing and a time for warring:
And such a feast of joy as offers now
Ye shall not often see. Scyros shall show you
What memory may delight in ’twixt the frays
Of bloody battle.
Dio.I am not made for feasts.I join the cry to arms. But make your bridalTo-night, and I’ll abide it.
Dio.I am not made for feasts.
I join the cry to arms. But make your bridal
To-night, and I’ll abide it.
Lyc.I’ll have’t to-night.So shall Achilles’ finding and his weddingBe on one day. And hark! there’s music tells meThat others guess my mind.
Lyc.I’ll have’t to-night.
So shall Achilles’ finding and his wedding
Be on one day. And hark! there’s music tells me
That others guess my mind.
Enter Chorus with Ach. and Deid. following.
Enter Chorus with Ach. and Deid. following.
Chorus.
Chorus.
Now the glorious sun is sunk in the west,And night with shadowy step advances:1570As we,—to the newly betrothed our song addrest,With musical verse and dances,In the order of them who established rites of oldFor maidens to sing this song,—Pray the gifts of heaven to gifts of gold,Joy and a life long.
Now the glorious sun is sunk in the west,
And night with shadowy step advances:1570
As we,—to the newly betrothed our song addrest,
With musical verse and dances,
In the order of them who established rites of old
For maidens to sing this song,—
Pray the gifts of heaven to gifts of gold,
Joy and a life long.
Ach.Good king and father, see thy daughter comeTo hear thee call me son.
Ach.Good king and father, see thy daughter come
To hear thee call me son.
Lyc.Son if I call thee,1579I understand not yet, and scarce believeThe wonders of this day. And thou, my daughter,Ever my pride and prayer, hast far outrunMy hope of thy good fortune. Blessed be ye both:The gods have made your marriage; let the feastBe solemnized to-night; our good guests hereWhose zeal hath caused our joy, I have bid to share it.
Lyc.Son if I call thee,
I understand not yet, and scarce believe
The wonders of this day. And thou, my daughter,
Ever my pride and prayer, hast far outrun
My hope of thy good fortune. Blessed be ye both:
The gods have made your marriage; let the feast
Be solemnized to-night; our good guests here
Whose zeal hath caused our joy, I have bid to share it.
Chorus.
Chorus.
We live well-ruled by an honoured king,Beloved of the gods, in a happy isle;Where merry winds of the gay sea bringNo foe to our shore, and the heavens smile1590On a peaceful folk secure from fear,Who gather the fruits of the earth at will,And hymn their thanks to the gods, and rearTheir laughing babes unmindful of ill.And ever we keep a feast of delight,The betrothal of hearts, when spirits unite,Creating an offspring of joy, a treasureUnknown to the bad, for whomThe gods foredoomThe glitter of pleasure,And a dark tomb.1600
We live well-ruled by an honoured king,
Beloved of the gods, in a happy isle;
Where merry winds of the gay sea bring
No foe to our shore, and the heavens smile
On a peaceful folk secure from fear,
Who gather the fruits of the earth at will,
And hymn their thanks to the gods, and rear
Their laughing babes unmindful of ill.
And ever we keep a feast of delight,
The betrothal of hearts, when spirits unite,
Creating an offspring of joy, a treasure
Unknown to the bad, for whom
The gods foredoom
The glitter of pleasure,
And a dark tomb.1600
Blessèd therefore O newly betrothed are ye,Tho’ happy to-day ye be,Your happier times ye yet shall see.We make our prayer to the gods.
Blessèd therefore O newly betrothed are ye,
Tho’ happy to-day ye be,
Your happier times ye yet shall see.
We make our prayer to the gods.
The sun shall prosper the seasons’ yieldWith fuller crops for the wains to bear,And feed our flocks in fold and fieldWith wholesome water and sweetest air.Plenty shall empty her golden horn,And grace shall dwell on the brows of youth,1611And love shall come as the joy of morn,To waken the eyes of pride and truth.
The sun shall prosper the seasons’ yield
With fuller crops for the wains to bear,
And feed our flocks in fold and field
With wholesome water and sweetest air.
Plenty shall empty her golden horn,
And grace shall dwell on the brows of youth,
And love shall come as the joy of morn,
To waken the eyes of pride and truth.
Blessèd therefore thy happy folk are we.Tho’ happy to-day we be,Our happier times are yet to see.We render praise to the gods;
Blessèd therefore thy happy folk are we.
Tho’ happy to-day we be,
Our happier times are yet to see.
We render praise to the gods;
But chiefest of all in the highest heightTo Love that sitteth in timeless might,That tameth evil, and sorrow ceaseth.And now we wish you again,1620Again and again,His joy that encreaseth,And a long reign.
But chiefest of all in the highest height
To Love that sitteth in timeless might,
That tameth evil, and sorrow ceaseth.
And now we wish you again,1620
Again and again,
His joy that encreaseth,
And a long reign.
Ach.Stay, stay! and thou, good king, and all here, hear me.I would be measured by my best desire,And that’s for peace and love, and the delightsYour song hath augured: but to all men fateApportions a mixed lot, and ’twas for meForeshown that peace and honour lay apart,1630Wherever pleasure: and to-day’s eventQuestions your hope. I was for this revealed,To lead the Argive battle against Troy:Thither I go; whence to return or notIs out of sight, but yet my marriage-makingEnters with better promise on my lifeThus hand in hand with glorious enterprise.After some days among you I must away,Tho’ ’tis not far.
Ach.Stay, stay! and thou, good king, and all here, hear me.
I would be measured by my best desire,
And that’s for peace and love, and the delights
Your song hath augured: but to all men fate
Apportions a mixed lot, and ’twas for me
Foreshown that peace and honour lay apart,
Wherever pleasure: and to-day’s event
Questions your hope. I was for this revealed,
To lead the Argive battle against Troy:
Thither I go; whence to return or not
Is out of sight, but yet my marriage-making
Enters with better promise on my life
Thus hand in hand with glorious enterprise.
After some days among you I must away,
Tho’ ’tis not far.
Ul.Well said! So art thou bound.
Ul.Well said! So art thou bound.
Dio.The war that hung so long will now begin.
Dio.The war that hung so long will now begin.
Lye.I ask one month, Achilles: grant one moon:1641They that could wait so long may longer wait.
Lye.I ask one month, Achilles: grant one moon:
They that could wait so long may longer wait.
Chorus.
Chorus.
1.
1.
Go not, go not, Achilles; is all in vain?Is this the fulfilment of long delight,The promise of favouring heaven,The praise of our song,The choice of Thetis for thee,Thy merry disguise,And happy betrothal?We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,Son of Thetis, we counsel well,1650Do not thy bride this wrong.
Go not, go not, Achilles; is all in vain?
Is this the fulfilment of long delight,
The promise of favouring heaven,
The praise of our song,
The choice of Thetis for thee,
Thy merry disguise,
And happy betrothal?
We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,
Son of Thetis, we counsel well,1650
Do not thy bride this wrong.
2.
2.
For if to-day thou goest, thou wilt go far,Alas, from us thy comrades away,To a camp of revengeful men,The accursed warBy warning fate forbidden,To angry disdain,A death unworthy.We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,Son of Peleus, we counsel well,1660This doom the oracle told.
For if to-day thou goest, thou wilt go far,
Alas, from us thy comrades away,
To a camp of revengeful men,
The accursed war
By warning fate forbidden,
To angry disdain,
A death unworthy.
We pray thee, O we beseech thee, all,
Son of Peleus, we counsel well,1660
This doom the oracle told.
Lyc.What said the oracle?
Lyc.What said the oracle?
Ach.It darkly bodedThat glory should be death.
Ach.It darkly boded
That glory should be death.
Lyc.And so may be:Nay, very like. Yet men who would live well,Weigh not these riddles, but unfold their lifeFrom day to day. Do thou as seemeth best,Nor fear mysterious warnings of the powers.But, if my voice can reckon with thee at all,I’ll tell thee what myself I have grown to think:1670That the best life is oft inglorious.Since the perfecting of ourselves, which seemsOur noblest task, may closelier be pursuedAway from camps and cities and the martOf men, where fame, as it is called, is won,By strife, ambition, competition, fashion,Ay, and the prattle of wit, the deadliest foeTo sober holiness, which, as I think,Loves quiet homes, where nature laps us roundWith musical silence and the happy sights1680That never fret; and day by day the spiritPastures in liberty, with a wide rangeOf peaceful meditation, undisturbed.All which can Scyros offer if thou wilt.—
Lyc.And so may be:
Nay, very like. Yet men who would live well,
Weigh not these riddles, but unfold their life
From day to day. Do thou as seemeth best,
Nor fear mysterious warnings of the powers.
But, if my voice can reckon with thee at all,
I’ll tell thee what myself I have grown to think:
That the best life is oft inglorious.
Since the perfecting of ourselves, which seems
Our noblest task, may closelier be pursued
Away from camps and cities and the mart
Of men, where fame, as it is called, is won,
By strife, ambition, competition, fashion,
Ay, and the prattle of wit, the deadliest foe
To sober holiness, which, as I think,
Loves quiet homes, where nature laps us round
With musical silence and the happy sights
That never fret; and day by day the spirit
Pastures in liberty, with a wide range
Of peaceful meditation, undisturbed.
All which can Scyros offer if thou wilt.—
Ul.This speech is idle, thou art bound to me.
Ul.This speech is idle, thou art bound to me.
Ach.I hear you all: and lest it should be saidI once was harsh and heedless, where such wrongWere worse than cowardice, I now recallWhate’er I have said. I will not forth to Troy:I will abide in Scyros, and o’erlook1690The farms and vineyards, and be lessoned wellIn government of arts, and spend my lifeIn love and ease, and whatsoever elseOur good king here hath praised—I will do thisIf my bride bid me. Let her choose for me;Her word shall rule me. If she set our pleasureAbove my honour, I will call that duty,And make it honourable, and so do well.But, as I know her, if she bid me goWhere fate and danger call, then I will go,1700And so do better: and very sure it is,Pleasure is not for him who pleasure serves.
Ach.I hear you all: and lest it should be said
I once was harsh and heedless, where such wrong
Were worse than cowardice, I now recall
Whate’er I have said. I will not forth to Troy:
I will abide in Scyros, and o’erlook
The farms and vineyards, and be lessoned well
In government of arts, and spend my life
In love and ease, and whatsoever else
Our good king here hath praised—I will do this
If my bride bid me. Let her choose for me;
Her word shall rule me. If she set our pleasure
Above my honour, I will call that duty,
And make it honourable, and so do well.
But, as I know her, if she bid me go
Where fate and danger call, then I will go,
And so do better: and very sure it is,
Pleasure is not for him who pleasure serves.
Deid.Achilles, son of Thetis! As I love thee,I say, go forth to Troy.
Deid.Achilles, son of Thetis! As I love thee,
I say, go forth to Troy.
Ach.Praised be the Gods,Who have made my long desire my love’s command!
Ach.Praised be the Gods,
Who have made my long desire my love’s command!
Ch.Alas! We have no further plea. Alas!Her ever-venturous spirit forecasts no ill.
Ch.Alas! We have no further plea. Alas!
Her ever-venturous spirit forecasts no ill.
Lyc.Go, win thy fame, my son; I would not stay thee.Thou art a soldier born. But circumstanceDemands delay, which thou wilt grant.
Lyc.Go, win thy fame, my son; I would not stay thee.
Thou art a soldier born. But circumstance
Demands delay, which thou wilt grant.
Ach.And thus1710To-night may be the feast. To-morrow mornDo thou, Ulysses, sail to Aulis, therePrepare them for my coming. If, Diomede,Thou wilt to Achaia to collect my men,The time thou usest I can fitly spend,And for some days banish the thought of war.
Ach.And thus
To-night may be the feast. To-morrow morn
Do thou, Ulysses, sail to Aulis, there
Prepare them for my coming. If, Diomede,
Thou wilt to Achaia to collect my men,
The time thou usest I can fitly spend,
And for some days banish the thought of war.
Dio.I will go for thee, prince.
Dio.I will go for thee, prince.
Lyc.’Tis settled so.Stand we no longer here: night falls apace.Come to the palace, we will end this day,As it deserves, never to be forgot.
Lyc.’Tis settled so.
Stand we no longer here: night falls apace.
Come to the palace, we will end this day,
As it deserves, never to be forgot.