Chapter 17

Chorus:At last our royal family,The race of ancient Inachus,Hath quelled the brothers' deadly strifeWhat fatal madness drives you onTo shed by turns each other's blood,340And gain the throne through paths of crime?O ye who lust for regal state,Ye know not where true power is found;For riches cannot make a king,Nor Tyrian garments richly dyed,345Nor royal crowns upon the brow,Nor portals glittering with gold.But he is king who knows no fear,Whose heart is free from mad desires;Whom vain ambition moveth not,350Nor fickle favor of the mob.The hidden treasures of the westMove not his heart, nor sands of goldWhich Tagus' waters sweep alongWithin their shining bed;355Nor yet the garnered wealth of grainTrod out on Libyan threshing-floors.He fears no hurtling thunderboltIn zig-zag course athwart the sky;No Eurus ruffling up the sea,360Nor the heaving Adriatic's waves,Windswept and mad before the blast;No hostile spear, nor keen, bare swordCan master him; but, set on high,In calm serenity he sees365All things of earth beneath his feet.And so with joy he goes to meetHis fate, and welcomes death.In vain 'gainst him would kings contend,Though from all lands they congregate—They who the scattered Dacians lead;370Who dwell upon the red sea's margeWhose depths are set with gleaming pearls;Or who, secure on Caspian heights,Leave all unclosed their mountain waysAgainst the bold Sarmatians;375They who through Danube's swelling wavesDare make their way with fearless feet,And, wheresoe'er they dwell, despoilThe famed and far-off Serians:In vain all these, for 'tis the soul380That makes the king. He needs no arms,No steeds, no ineffectual dartsSuch as the Parthian hurls from farIn simulated flight; for himNo engines huge with far-hurled rocks385Lay waste the hostile city's walls.But he is king who knows no fear,And he is king who has no lust;And on his throne secure he sitsWho is self-crowned by conscious worth.390Let him who will, in pride of power,Upon the brink of empire stand:For me, be sweet repose enough;In humble station fixed, would IMy life in gentle leisure spend,395In silence, all unknown to fame.So when my days have passed awayFrom noisy, restless tumult free,May I, in meek obscurity400And full of years, decline in death.But death lies heavily on himWho, though to all the world well known,Is stranger to himself alone.ACT III[EnterThyestesreturning from banishment, accompanied by his three sons.]Thyestes:At last do I behold the welcome roofsOf this my fatherland, the teeming wealthOf Argos, and, the greatest and the bestOf sights to weary exiles, here I see405My native soil and my ancestral gods(If gods indeed there be). And there, behold,The sacred towers by hands of Cyclops reared,In beauty far excelling human art;The race-course thronged with youth, where oftentimesHave I within my father's chariotSped on to victory and fair renown.410Now will all Argos come to welcome me;The thronging folk will come—and Atreus too!Oh, better far reseek thy wooded haunts,Thy glades remote, and, mingled with the brutes,Live e'en as they. Why should this splendid realmWith its fair-seeming glitter blind my eyes?415When thou dost look upon the goodly gift,Scan well the giver too. Of late I livedWith bold and joyous spirit, though my lotAll men considered hard to bear. But nowMy heart is filled with fears, my courage fails;And, bent on flight, my feet unwilling move.420Tantalus[one ofThyestes'sons]: Why, O my father, dost thou falter soWith steps uncertain, turn away thy face,And hold thyself as on a doubtful course?Thyestes[in soliloquy]: Why hesitate, my soul, or why so longDeliberate upon a point so clear?To such uncertain things dost thou intrustThyself as throne and brother? And fearest thouThose ills already conquered and found mild?425Dost flee those cares which thou hast well bestowed?Oh, now my former wretchedness is joy.Turn back, while still thou mayst, and save thyself.Tantalus:What cause, O father, forces thee to leaveThy native land at last regained? Why now,430When richest gifts are falling in thy lap,Dost turn away? Thy brother's wrath is o'er;And he has turned himself once more to thee,Has given thee back thy share of sovereignty,Restored our shattered house to harmony,And made thee master of thyself again.Thyestes:Thou askest why I fear—I cannot tell.No cause for fear I see, but still I fear.435I long to go, and yet my trembling limbsGo on with faltering steps, and I am borneWhere I most stoutly struggle not to go.So, when a ship by oar and sail is driven,The tide, resisting both, bears it away.Tantalus:But thou must overcome whate'er it be440That doth oppose and hold thy soul in check;And see how great rewards await thee here:Thou canst be king.Thyestes:Since I have power to die.Tantalus:But royal power is—Thyestes:Naught, if only thouNo power dost covet.Tantalus:Leave it to thy sons.Thyestes:No realm on earth can stand divided power.Tantalus:Should he, who can be happy, still be sad?445Thyestes:Believe me, son, 'tis by their lying namesThat things seem great, while others harsh appearWhich are not truly so. When high in powerI stood, I never ceased to be in fear;Yea, even did I fear the very swordUpon my thigh. Oh, what a boon it isTo be at feud with none, to eat one's bread450Without a trace of care, upon the ground!Crime enters not the poor man's humble cot;And all in safety may one take his foodFrom slender boards; for 'tis in cups of goldThat poison lurks—I speak what I do know.Ill fortune is to be preferred to good.For since my palace does not threatening stand455In pride upon some lofty mountain top,The people fear me not; my towering roofsGleam not with ivory, nor do I needA watchful guard to keep me while I sleep.I do not fish with fleets, nor drive the seaWith massive dykes back from its natural shore;460I do not gorge me at the world's expense;For me no fields remote are harvestedBeyond the Getae and the Parthians;No incense burns for me, nor are my shrinesAdorned in impious neglect of Jove;No forests wave upon my battlements,No vast pools steam for my delight; my days465Are not to slumber given, nor do I spendThe livelong night in drunken revelry.No one feels fear of me, and so my home,Though all unguarded, is from danger free;For poverty alone may be at peace.And this I hold: the mightiest king is he,Who from the lust of sovereignty is free.470Tantalus:But if some god a kingdom should bestow,It is not meet for mortal to refuse:Behold, thy brother bids thee to the throne.Thyestes:He bids? 'Tis but a cloak for treachery.Tantalus:But brotherly regard ofttimes returnsUnto the heart from which it has been driven;And righteous love regains its former strength.Thyestes:And dost thou speak of brother's love to me?475Sooner shall ocean bathe the heavenly Bears,The raging waves of Sicily be still;And sooner shall the Ionian waters yieldRipe fields of grain; black night illume the earth;And fire shall mate with water, life with death,480And winds shall make a treaty with the sea:Than shall Thyestes know a brother's love.Tantalus:What treachery dost thou fear?Thyestes:All treachery.What proper limit shall I give my fear?My brother's power is boundless as his hate.Tantalus:How can he harm thee?Thyestes:For myself alone485I have no fears; but 'tis for you, my sons,That Atreus must be held in fear by me.Tantalus:But canst thou be o'ercome, if on thy guard?Thyestes:Too late one guards when in the midst of ills.But let us on. In this one thing I showMy fatherhood: I do not lead to ill,But follow you.Tantalus:If well we heed our ways,God will protect us. Come with courage on.490Atreus[coming upon the scene, seesThyestesand his three sons, and gloats over the fact that his brother is at last in his power. He speaks aside]: Now is the prey fast caught within my toils.I see the father and his hated brood,And here my vengeful hate is safe bestowed;For now at last he's come into my hands;He's come, Thyestes and his children—all!495When I see him I scarce can curb my grief,And keep my soul from breaking madly forth.So when the Umbrian hound pursues the prey,Keen scented, on the long leash held, he goesWith lowered muzzle questing on the trail.While distant still the game and faint the scent,Obedient to the leash, with silent tongue500He goes along; but when the prey is near,With straining neck he struggles to be free,Bays loud against the cautious hunter's check,And bursts from all restraint.When, near at hand,Hot wrath perceives the blood for which it thirsts,It cannot be restrained. Yet must it be.See how his unkempt, matted hair conceals505His woeful countenance; how foul his beard.[He now addressesThyestes.]My promised faith, my brother, will I keep;'Tis a delight to see thee once again.Come to my arms in mutual embrace;For all the anger which I felt for theeHas melted clean away. From this time forthLet ties of blood be cherished, love and faith;510And let that hatred which has cursed us bothForever vanish from our kindred souls.Thyestes:I should attempt to palliate my sins,Hadst thou not shown me such fraternal love;But now I own, my brother, now I ownThat I have sinned against thee past belief.Thy faithful piety has made my caseSeem blacker still. A double sinner he515Who sins against a brother such as thou.Now let my tears my penitence approve.Thou, first of all mankind, beholdest meA suppliant; these hands, which never yetHave touched the feet of man, are laid on thine.Let all thy wrathful feelings be forgot,Be utterly erased from off thy soul;520And take, O brother, as my pledge of faithThese guiltless sons of mine.Atreus:Lay not thy handsUpon my knees. Come, rather, to my arms.And you, dear youths, the comforters of age,Come cling about my neck. Those rags of woe,My brother, lay aside, and spare mine eyes;And clothe thyself more fittingly in these,525The equal of my own. And, last of all,Accept thine equal share of this our realm.'Twill bring a greater meed of praise to me,To restore thee safely to thy father's throne.For chance may put the scepter in our hands;But only virtue seeks to give it up.Thyestes:May heaven, my brother, worthily repay530These deeds of thine. But this my wretched headWill not consent to wear a diadem,Nor my ill-omened hand to hold the staffOf power. Nay, rather, let me hide myselfAmong the throng.Atreus:There's room upon the throne.Thyestes:But I shall know that all of thine is mine.535Atreus:But who would throw away good fortune's gifts?Thyestes:Whoe'er has found how easily they fail.Atreus:And wouldst thou thwart thy brother's great renown?Thyestes:Thy glory is attained; mine bides its time.My mind is resolute to shun the crown.540Atreus:Then I refuse my share of power as well.Thyestes:Nay then, I yield. The name of king I'll wear,But laws and arms—and I, are thine to sway.Atreus[placing the crown on his brother's head]: I'll place this crown upon thy reverend head,And pay the destined victims to the gods.545Chorus:The sight is past belief. Behold,This Atreus, fierce and bold of soul,By every cruel passion swayed,When first he saw his brother's faceWas held in dumb amaze.No force is greater than the powerOf Nature's ties of love. 'Tis trueThat wars with foreign foes endure;550But they whom true love once has boundWill ever feel its ties.When wrath, by some great cause aroused,Hath burst the bonds of amity,And raised the dreadful cry of war;When gleaming squadrons thunder downWith champing steeds; when flashing swords,555By carnage-maddened Mars upreared,Gleam with a deadly rain of blows:E'en then for sacred pietyThose warring hands will sheathe the swordAnd join in the clasp of peace.What god has given this sudden lull560In the midst of loud alarms? But nowThroughout Mycenae's borders rangThe noisy prelude of a strife'Twixt brothers' arms. Here mothers paleEmbraced their sons, and the trembling wifeLooked on her arméd lord in fear,While the sword to his hand reluctant came,565Foul with the rust of peace.One strove to renew the tottering walls,And one to strengthen the shattered towers,And close the gates with iron bars;While on the battlements the guard570His anxious nightly vigils kept.The daily fear of war is worseThan war itself.But fallen now are the sword's dire threats,The deep-voiced trumpet-blare is still,And the shrill, harsh notes of the clarion575Are heard no more. While peace profoundBroods once again o'er the happy state.So when, beneath the storm blast's lash,The heaving waves break on the shoreOf Bruttium, and Scylla roarsResponsive from her cavern's depths;Then, even within their sheltered port,580The sailors fear the foaming seaWhich greedy Charybdis vomits up;And Cyclops dreads his father's rageWhere he sits on burning Aetna's crag,Lest the deathless flames on his roaring forge585Be quenched by the overwhelming floods;When poor Laërtes feels the shockOf reeling Ithaca, and thinksThat his island realm will be swallowed up:Then, if the fierce winds die away,The waves sink back in their quiet depths;And the sea, which of late the vessels feared,590Now far and wide with swelling sailsIs overspread, while tiny skiffsSkim safely o'er its harmless breast;And one may count the very fishDeep down within the peaceful caves,Where but now, beneath the raging blast,The battered islands feared the sea.595No lot endureth long. For griefAnd pleasure, each in turn, depart;But pleasure has a briefer reign.From lowest to the highest stateA fleeting hour may bring us. He,Who wears a crown upon his brow,To whom the trembling nations kneel,600Before whose nod the barbarous MedesLay down their arms, the Indians too,Who dwell beneath the nearer sun,And Dacians, who the Parthian horseAre ever threat'ning: he, the king,With anxious mind the scepter bears,Foresees and fears the fickle chance605And shifting time which soon or lateShall all his power overthrow.Ye, whom the ruler of the landAnd sea has given o'er subject menThe fearful power of life and death,Abate your overweening pride.For whatsoever fear of you610Your weaker subjects feel today,Tomorrow shall a stronger lordInspire in you. For every powerIs subject to a greater power.Him, whom the dawning day beholdsIn proud estate, the setting sunSees lying in the dust.Let no one then trust overmuch615To favoring fate; and when she frowns,Let no one utterly despairOf better fortune yet to come.For Clotho mingles good and ill;She whirls the wheel of fate around,Nor suffers it to stand.To no one are the gods so goodThat he may safely call his own620Tomorrow's dawn; for on the whirling wheelHas God our fortunes placed for good or ill.ACT IV[EnterMessengerbreathlessly announcing the horror which has just been enacted behind the scenes.]Messenger:Oh, for some raging blast to carry meWith headlong speed through distant realms of air,And wrap me in the darkness of the clouds;That so I might this monstrous horror tearFrom my remembrance. Oh, thou house of shame625To Pelops even and to Tantalus!Chorus:What is the news thou bring'st?Messenger:What realm is this?Argos and Sparta, once the noble homeOf pious brothers? Corinth, on whose shoresTwo rival oceans beat? Or do I seeThe barbarous Danube on whose frozen streamThe savage Alani make swift retreat?630Hyrcania beneath eternal snows?Or those wide plains of wandering Scythians?What place is this that knows such hideous crime?Chorus:But tell thy tidings, whatsoe'er they be.Messenger:When I my scattered senses gather up,And horrid fear lets go its numbing holdUpon my limbs. Oh, but I see it still,The ghastly picture of that dreadful deed!635Oh, come, ye whirlwinds wild, and bear me far,Far distant, where the vanished day is borne.Chorus:Thou hold'st our minds in dire uncertainty.Speak out and tell us what this horror is,And who its author. Yet would I inquireNot who, but which he is. Speak quickly, then.640Messenger:There is upon the lofty citadelA part of Pelops' house that fronts the south,Whose farther side lifts up its massive wallsTo mountain heights; for so the reigning kingMay better sway the town, and hold in checkThe common rabble when it scorns the throne.Within this palace is a gleaming hall,645So huge, it may a multitude contain;Whose golden architraves are high upborneBy stately columns of a varied hue.Behind this public hall where people throng,The palace stretches off in spacious rooms;And, deep withdrawn, the royal sanctum lies,650Far from the vulgar gaze. This sacred spotAn ancient grove within a dale confines,Wherein no tree its cheerful shade affords,Or by the knife is pruned; but cypress treesAnd yews, and woods of gloomy ilex waveTheir melancholy boughs. Above them all655A towering oak looks down and spreads abroad,O'ershadowing all the grove. Within this placeThe royal sons of Tantalus are wontTo ask consent of heaven to their rule,And here to seek its aid when fortune frowns.Here hang their consecrated offerings:Sonorous trumpets, broken chariots,Those famous spoils of the Myrtoan sea;660Still hang upon the treacherous axle-treesThe conquered chariot-wheels—mementoes grimOf every crime this sinful race has done.Here also is the Phrygian turban hungOf Pelops' self; and here the spoil of foes,A rich embroidered robe, the prize of war.An oozy stream springs there beneath the shade,665And sluggish creeps along within the swamp,Just like the ugly waters of the StyxWhich bind the oaths of heaven. 'Tis said that hereAt dead of night the hellish gods make moan,And all the grove resounds with clanking chains,And mournful howl of ghosts. Here may be seen670Whatever, but to hear of, causes fear.The spirits of the ancient dead come forthFrom old, decaying tombs, and walk abroad;While monsters, greater than the world has known,Go leaping round, grotesque and terrible.The whole wood gleams with an uncanny light,And without sign of fire the palace glows.Ofttimes the grove re-echoes with the sound675Of threefold bayings of the dogs of hell,And oft do mighty shapes affright the house.Nor are these fears allayed by light of day;For night reigns ever here, and e'en at noonThe horror of the underworld abides.From this dread spot are sure responses given680To those who seek the oracle; the fatesWith mighty sound from out the grot are told,And all the cavern thunders with the god.'Twas to this spot that maddened Atreus came,His brother's children dragging in his train.The sacrificial altars are adorned—Oh, who can worthily describe the deed?Behind their backs the noble captives' hands685Are bound, and purple fillets wreathe their brows.All things are ready, incense, sacred wine,The sacrificial meal, and fatal knife.The last detail is properly observed,That this outrageous murder may be doneIn strict observance of the ritual!Chorus:Who lays his hand unto the fatal steel?690Messenger:He is himself the priest; the baleful prayerHe makes, and chants the sacrificial songWith wild and boisterous words; before the shrineHe takes his place; the victims doomed to deathHe sets in order, and prepares the sword.He gives the closest heed to all detailsAnd misses no least portion of the rite.695The grove begins to tremble, earth to quake,And all the palace totters with the shock,And seems to hesitate in conscious doubtWhere it shall throw its ponderous masses down.High on the left a star with darkling trainShoots swift athwart the sky; the sacred winePoured at the altar fires, with horrid change,700Turns bloody as it flows. The royal crownFell twice and yet again from Atreus' head,And the ivory statues in the temple wept.These monstrous portents moved all others sore;But Atreus, only, held himself unmoved,And even set the threat'ning gods at naught.And now delay is at an end. He stands705Before the shrine with lowering, sidelong gaze.As in the jungle by the Ganges streamA hungry tigress stands between two bulls,Eager for both, but yet in doubtful moodWhich first shall feel her fangs (to this she turns710With gaping jaws, then back to that again,And holds her raging hunger in suspense):So cruel Atreus eyes the victims doomedTo sate his curséd wrath; and hesitatesWho first shall feel the knife, and who shall dieThe next in order. 'Tis of no concern,But still he hesitates, and gloats awhile715In planning how to do the horrid deed.Chorus:Who then is first to die?Messenger:First place he gives(Lest you should think him lacking in respect)Unto his grandsire's namesake, Tantalus.Chorus:What spirit, what demeanor showed the youth?Messenger:He stood quite unconcerned, nor strove to plead,720Knowing such prayer were vain. But in his neckThat savage butcher plunged his gleaming swordClear to the hilt and drew it forth again.Still stood the corpse upright, and, wavering long,As 'twere in doubt or here or there to fall,725At last prone on the uncle hurled itself.Then he, his rancor unabated still,Dragged youthful Plisthenes before the shrine,And quickly meted him his brother's fate.With one keen blow he smote him on the neck,Whereat his bleeding body fell to earth;While with a murmur inarticulate,His head with look complaining rolled away.Chorus:What did he then, this twofold murder done?730The last one spare, or heap up crime on crime?Messenger:As when some manéd lion in the woodsVictorious attacks the Armenian herds—(His jaws are smeared with blood, his hunger gone;And yet he does not lay aside his wrath;735Now here, now there he charges on the bulls,And now the calves he worries, though his teethAre weary with their work)—so Atreus raves;He swells with wrath; and, grasping in his handThe sword with double slaughter dripping yet,By fury blinded but with deadly stroke,He drives clean through the body of the boy.740And so, from breast to back transfixed, he fallsBy double wound, and with his streaming bloodExtinguishes the baleful altar fires.Chorus:Oh, horrid deed!Messenger:What! horrid call ye that?If only there the course of crime had stopped,'Twould pious seem.745Chorus:What more atrocious crime,What greater sin could human heart conceive?Messenger:And do ye think his crime was ended here?'Twas just begun.Chorus:What further could there be?Perchance he threw the corpses to be tornBy raving beasts, and kept them from the fire?Messenger:Would that he had! I do not pray for this,That friendly earth may give them burial,Or funeral fires consume; but only this,750That as a ghastly meal they may be thrownTo birds and savage beasts. Such is my prayer,Which otherwise were direful punishment.Oh, that the father might their corpses seeDenied to sepulture! Oh, crime of crimes,Incredible in any age; a crimeWhich coming generations will refuseTo hear! Behold, from breasts yet warm with life,755The exta, plucked away, lie quivering,The lungs still breathe, the timid heart still beats.But he the organs with a practiced handTurns deftly over, and inquires the fates,Observing carefully the viscera.With this inspection satisfied at length,With mind at ease, he now is free to plan760His brother's awful feast. With his own handThe bodies he dismembers, carving offThe arms and shoulders, laying bare the bones,And all with savage joy. He only savesThe heads and hands, those hands which he himselfHad clasped in friendly faith. Some of the fleshIs placed on spits and by the roasting fires765Hangs dripping; other parts into a potAre thrown, where on the water's seething streamThey leap about. The fire in horror shrinksFrom the polluting touch of such a feast,Recoils upon the shuddering altar-hearthTwice and again, until at last constrained,Though with repugnance strong, it fiercely burns.The liver sputters strangely on the spits;770Nor could I say whether the flesh or flamesGroan more. The fitful flames die out in smokeOf pitchy blackness; and the smoke itself,A heavy mournful cloud, mounts not aloftIn upward-shooting columns, straight and high,But settles down like a disfiguring shroudUpon the very statues of the gods.775O all-enduring sun, though thou didst fleeIn horror from the sight, and the radiant noonDidst into darkness plunge; 'twas all too late.The father tears his sons, and impiously feastsOn his own flesh. See, there in state he sits,His hair anointed with the dripping nard,780His senses dulled with wine. And oft the food,As if in horror held, sticks in his throat.In this thine evil hour one good remains,One only, O Thyestes: that to knowThy depth of suffering is spared to thee.But even this will perish. Though the sunShould turn his chariot backward on its course,785And night, at noon arising from the earth,Should quite obscure this foul and ghastly crimeWith shades unknown, it could not be concealed;For every evil deed shall be revealed.[Unnatural darkness has come over the world at midday.]Chorus:O father of the earth and sky,Before whose rising beams the night790With all her glories flees away;Oh, whither dost thou turn thy course,And why, midway of heaven, does dayTo darkness turn? O Phoebus, whyDost turn away thy shining face?Not yet has evening's messengerCalled forth the nightly stars; not yet795The rounding of thy western goalBids loose thy horses from their toil;Not yet, as day fades into night,Sounds forth the trumpets' evening call.The plowman stands in dumb amaze,800With oxen still unspent with toil,To see the welcome supper hourSo quickly come. But what, O sun,Has driven thee from thy heavenly course?What cause from their accustomed wayHas turned thy steeds? Is war essayedOnce more by giants, bursting forthFrom out the riven gates of Dis?805Does Tityos, though wounded sore,Renew his ancient, deadly wrath?Perchance Typhoeus has thrown offHis mountain, and is free once more;Perchance once more a way to heaven810Those giants, felled in Phlegra's vale,Are building, and on Pelion's topAre piling Thracian Ossa high.The accustomed changes of the heavensAre gone to come no more. No moreThe rising and the setting sunShall we behold. Aurora bright,815The herald of the dewy morn,Whose wont it is to speed the sunUpon his way, now stands amazedTo see her kingdom overturned.She is not skilled to bathe his steeds,A-weary with their rapid course,Nor in the cooling sea to plunge820Their reeking manes. The sun himself,In setting, sees the place of dawn,And bids the darkness fill the skyWithout the aid of night. No starsCome out, nor do the heavens gleamWith any fires; no moon dispels825The darkness' black and heavy pall.Oh, that the night itself were here,Whatever this portends! Our heartsAre trembling, yea, are trembling sore,And smitten with a boding fearLest all the world in ruins fall,830And formless chaos as of yoreO'erwhelm us, gods and men; lest land,And all-encircling sea, and starsThat wander in the spangled heavens,Be buried in the general doom.No more with gleaming, deathless torch,835Shall Phoebus, lord of all the stars,Lead the procession of the yearsAnd mark the seasons; nevermoreShall Luna, flashing back his rays,Dispel the fears of night; and passIn shorter course her brother's car.840The throng of heavenly beings soonShall in one vast abyss be heaped.That shining path of sacred stars,Which cuts obliquely 'thwart the zones,845The standard-bearer of the years,Shall see the stars in ruin fall,Itself in ruin falling. He,The Ram, who, in the early spring,Restores the sails to the warming breeze,Shall headlong plunge into those waves850Through which the trembling maid of GreeceHe bore of old. And Taurus, whoUpon his horns like a garland wearsThe Hyades, shall drag with himThe sacred Twins, and the stretched-out clawsOf the curving Crab. With heat inflamed,Alcides' Lion once again855Shall fall from heaven; the Virgin, too,Back to the earth she left shall fall;And the righteous Scales with their mighty weights,Shall drag in their fall the Scorpion.And he, old Chiron, skilled to hold860Upon his bow of ThessalyThe feathered dart, shall lose his shaftsAnd break his bow. Cold Capricorn,Who ushers sluggish winter in,Shall fall from heaven, and break thy urn,Whoe'er thou art, O Waterman.865And with thee shall the Fish departRemotest of the stars of heaven;And those monsters[48]huge which never yetWere in the ocean plunged, shall soonWithin the all-engulfing seaBe swallowed up. And that huge Snake,Which like a winding river glides870Between the Bears, shall fall from heaven;[49]United with that serpent huge,The Lesser Bear, congealed with cold,And that slow driver of the WainNo longer stable in its course,Shall all in common ruin fall.Have we, of all the race of men,875Been worthy deemed to be o'erwhelmedAnd buried 'neath a riven earth?Is this our age the end of all?Alas, in evil hour of fateWere we begotten, wretched still,Whether the sun is lost to us880Or banished by our impious sins!But away with vain complaints and fear:Eager for life is he who would not die,Though all the world in death around him lie.

Chorus:At last our royal family,

The race of ancient Inachus,

Hath quelled the brothers' deadly strife

What fatal madness drives you on

To shed by turns each other's blood,340

And gain the throne through paths of crime?

O ye who lust for regal state,

Ye know not where true power is found;

For riches cannot make a king,

Nor Tyrian garments richly dyed,345

Nor royal crowns upon the brow,

Nor portals glittering with gold.

But he is king who knows no fear,

Whose heart is free from mad desires;

Whom vain ambition moveth not,350

Nor fickle favor of the mob.

The hidden treasures of the west

Move not his heart, nor sands of gold

Which Tagus' waters sweep along

Within their shining bed;355

Nor yet the garnered wealth of grain

Trod out on Libyan threshing-floors.

He fears no hurtling thunderbolt

In zig-zag course athwart the sky;

No Eurus ruffling up the sea,360

Nor the heaving Adriatic's waves,

Windswept and mad before the blast;

No hostile spear, nor keen, bare sword

Can master him; but, set on high,

In calm serenity he sees365

All things of earth beneath his feet.

And so with joy he goes to meet

His fate, and welcomes death.

In vain 'gainst him would kings contend,

Though from all lands they congregate—

They who the scattered Dacians lead;370

Who dwell upon the red sea's marge

Whose depths are set with gleaming pearls;

Or who, secure on Caspian heights,

Leave all unclosed their mountain ways

Against the bold Sarmatians;375

They who through Danube's swelling waves

Dare make their way with fearless feet,

And, wheresoe'er they dwell, despoil

The famed and far-off Serians:

In vain all these, for 'tis the soul380

That makes the king. He needs no arms,

No steeds, no ineffectual darts

Such as the Parthian hurls from far

In simulated flight; for him

No engines huge with far-hurled rocks385

Lay waste the hostile city's walls.

But he is king who knows no fear,

And he is king who has no lust;

And on his throne secure he sits

Who is self-crowned by conscious worth.390

Let him who will, in pride of power,

Upon the brink of empire stand:

For me, be sweet repose enough;

In humble station fixed, would I

My life in gentle leisure spend,395

In silence, all unknown to fame.

So when my days have passed away

From noisy, restless tumult free,

May I, in meek obscurity400

And full of years, decline in death.

But death lies heavily on him

Who, though to all the world well known,

Is stranger to himself alone.

[EnterThyestesreturning from banishment, accompanied by his three sons.]

Thyestes:At last do I behold the welcome roofsOf this my fatherland, the teeming wealthOf Argos, and, the greatest and the bestOf sights to weary exiles, here I see405My native soil and my ancestral gods(If gods indeed there be). And there, behold,The sacred towers by hands of Cyclops reared,In beauty far excelling human art;The race-course thronged with youth, where oftentimesHave I within my father's chariotSped on to victory and fair renown.410Now will all Argos come to welcome me;The thronging folk will come—and Atreus too!Oh, better far reseek thy wooded haunts,Thy glades remote, and, mingled with the brutes,Live e'en as they. Why should this splendid realmWith its fair-seeming glitter blind my eyes?415When thou dost look upon the goodly gift,Scan well the giver too. Of late I livedWith bold and joyous spirit, though my lotAll men considered hard to bear. But nowMy heart is filled with fears, my courage fails;And, bent on flight, my feet unwilling move.420Tantalus[one ofThyestes'sons]: Why, O my father, dost thou falter soWith steps uncertain, turn away thy face,And hold thyself as on a doubtful course?Thyestes[in soliloquy]: Why hesitate, my soul, or why so longDeliberate upon a point so clear?To such uncertain things dost thou intrustThyself as throne and brother? And fearest thouThose ills already conquered and found mild?425Dost flee those cares which thou hast well bestowed?Oh, now my former wretchedness is joy.Turn back, while still thou mayst, and save thyself.Tantalus:What cause, O father, forces thee to leaveThy native land at last regained? Why now,430When richest gifts are falling in thy lap,Dost turn away? Thy brother's wrath is o'er;And he has turned himself once more to thee,Has given thee back thy share of sovereignty,Restored our shattered house to harmony,And made thee master of thyself again.Thyestes:Thou askest why I fear—I cannot tell.No cause for fear I see, but still I fear.435I long to go, and yet my trembling limbsGo on with faltering steps, and I am borneWhere I most stoutly struggle not to go.So, when a ship by oar and sail is driven,The tide, resisting both, bears it away.Tantalus:But thou must overcome whate'er it be440That doth oppose and hold thy soul in check;And see how great rewards await thee here:Thou canst be king.Thyestes:Since I have power to die.Tantalus:But royal power is—Thyestes:Naught, if only thouNo power dost covet.Tantalus:Leave it to thy sons.Thyestes:No realm on earth can stand divided power.Tantalus:Should he, who can be happy, still be sad?445Thyestes:Believe me, son, 'tis by their lying namesThat things seem great, while others harsh appearWhich are not truly so. When high in powerI stood, I never ceased to be in fear;Yea, even did I fear the very swordUpon my thigh. Oh, what a boon it isTo be at feud with none, to eat one's bread450Without a trace of care, upon the ground!Crime enters not the poor man's humble cot;And all in safety may one take his foodFrom slender boards; for 'tis in cups of goldThat poison lurks—I speak what I do know.Ill fortune is to be preferred to good.For since my palace does not threatening stand455In pride upon some lofty mountain top,The people fear me not; my towering roofsGleam not with ivory, nor do I needA watchful guard to keep me while I sleep.I do not fish with fleets, nor drive the seaWith massive dykes back from its natural shore;460I do not gorge me at the world's expense;For me no fields remote are harvestedBeyond the Getae and the Parthians;No incense burns for me, nor are my shrinesAdorned in impious neglect of Jove;No forests wave upon my battlements,No vast pools steam for my delight; my days465Are not to slumber given, nor do I spendThe livelong night in drunken revelry.No one feels fear of me, and so my home,Though all unguarded, is from danger free;For poverty alone may be at peace.And this I hold: the mightiest king is he,Who from the lust of sovereignty is free.470Tantalus:But if some god a kingdom should bestow,It is not meet for mortal to refuse:Behold, thy brother bids thee to the throne.Thyestes:He bids? 'Tis but a cloak for treachery.Tantalus:But brotherly regard ofttimes returnsUnto the heart from which it has been driven;And righteous love regains its former strength.Thyestes:And dost thou speak of brother's love to me?475Sooner shall ocean bathe the heavenly Bears,The raging waves of Sicily be still;And sooner shall the Ionian waters yieldRipe fields of grain; black night illume the earth;And fire shall mate with water, life with death,480And winds shall make a treaty with the sea:Than shall Thyestes know a brother's love.Tantalus:What treachery dost thou fear?Thyestes:All treachery.What proper limit shall I give my fear?My brother's power is boundless as his hate.Tantalus:How can he harm thee?Thyestes:For myself alone485I have no fears; but 'tis for you, my sons,That Atreus must be held in fear by me.Tantalus:But canst thou be o'ercome, if on thy guard?Thyestes:Too late one guards when in the midst of ills.But let us on. In this one thing I showMy fatherhood: I do not lead to ill,But follow you.Tantalus:If well we heed our ways,God will protect us. Come with courage on.490Atreus[coming upon the scene, seesThyestesand his three sons, and gloats over the fact that his brother is at last in his power. He speaks aside]: Now is the prey fast caught within my toils.I see the father and his hated brood,And here my vengeful hate is safe bestowed;For now at last he's come into my hands;He's come, Thyestes and his children—all!495When I see him I scarce can curb my grief,And keep my soul from breaking madly forth.So when the Umbrian hound pursues the prey,Keen scented, on the long leash held, he goesWith lowered muzzle questing on the trail.While distant still the game and faint the scent,Obedient to the leash, with silent tongue500He goes along; but when the prey is near,With straining neck he struggles to be free,Bays loud against the cautious hunter's check,And bursts from all restraint.When, near at hand,Hot wrath perceives the blood for which it thirsts,It cannot be restrained. Yet must it be.See how his unkempt, matted hair conceals505His woeful countenance; how foul his beard.[He now addressesThyestes.]My promised faith, my brother, will I keep;'Tis a delight to see thee once again.Come to my arms in mutual embrace;For all the anger which I felt for theeHas melted clean away. From this time forthLet ties of blood be cherished, love and faith;510And let that hatred which has cursed us bothForever vanish from our kindred souls.Thyestes:I should attempt to palliate my sins,Hadst thou not shown me such fraternal love;But now I own, my brother, now I ownThat I have sinned against thee past belief.Thy faithful piety has made my caseSeem blacker still. A double sinner he515Who sins against a brother such as thou.Now let my tears my penitence approve.Thou, first of all mankind, beholdest meA suppliant; these hands, which never yetHave touched the feet of man, are laid on thine.Let all thy wrathful feelings be forgot,Be utterly erased from off thy soul;520And take, O brother, as my pledge of faithThese guiltless sons of mine.Atreus:Lay not thy handsUpon my knees. Come, rather, to my arms.And you, dear youths, the comforters of age,Come cling about my neck. Those rags of woe,My brother, lay aside, and spare mine eyes;And clothe thyself more fittingly in these,525The equal of my own. And, last of all,Accept thine equal share of this our realm.'Twill bring a greater meed of praise to me,To restore thee safely to thy father's throne.For chance may put the scepter in our hands;But only virtue seeks to give it up.Thyestes:May heaven, my brother, worthily repay530These deeds of thine. But this my wretched headWill not consent to wear a diadem,Nor my ill-omened hand to hold the staffOf power. Nay, rather, let me hide myselfAmong the throng.Atreus:There's room upon the throne.Thyestes:But I shall know that all of thine is mine.535Atreus:But who would throw away good fortune's gifts?Thyestes:Whoe'er has found how easily they fail.Atreus:And wouldst thou thwart thy brother's great renown?Thyestes:Thy glory is attained; mine bides its time.My mind is resolute to shun the crown.540Atreus:Then I refuse my share of power as well.Thyestes:Nay then, I yield. The name of king I'll wear,But laws and arms—and I, are thine to sway.Atreus[placing the crown on his brother's head]: I'll place this crown upon thy reverend head,And pay the destined victims to the gods.545

Thyestes:At last do I behold the welcome roofs

Of this my fatherland, the teeming wealth

Of Argos, and, the greatest and the best

Of sights to weary exiles, here I see405

My native soil and my ancestral gods

(If gods indeed there be). And there, behold,

The sacred towers by hands of Cyclops reared,

In beauty far excelling human art;

The race-course thronged with youth, where oftentimes

Have I within my father's chariot

Sped on to victory and fair renown.410

Now will all Argos come to welcome me;

The thronging folk will come—and Atreus too!

Oh, better far reseek thy wooded haunts,

Thy glades remote, and, mingled with the brutes,

Live e'en as they. Why should this splendid realm

With its fair-seeming glitter blind my eyes?415

When thou dost look upon the goodly gift,

Scan well the giver too. Of late I lived

With bold and joyous spirit, though my lot

All men considered hard to bear. But now

My heart is filled with fears, my courage fails;

And, bent on flight, my feet unwilling move.420

Tantalus[one ofThyestes'sons]: Why, O my father, dost thou falter soWith steps uncertain, turn away thy face,And hold thyself as on a doubtful course?

Tantalus[one ofThyestes'sons]: Why, O my father, dost thou falter so

With steps uncertain, turn away thy face,

And hold thyself as on a doubtful course?

Thyestes[in soliloquy]: Why hesitate, my soul, or why so longDeliberate upon a point so clear?To such uncertain things dost thou intrustThyself as throne and brother? And fearest thouThose ills already conquered and found mild?425Dost flee those cares which thou hast well bestowed?Oh, now my former wretchedness is joy.Turn back, while still thou mayst, and save thyself.

Thyestes[in soliloquy]: Why hesitate, my soul, or why so long

Deliberate upon a point so clear?

To such uncertain things dost thou intrust

Thyself as throne and brother? And fearest thou

Those ills already conquered and found mild?425

Dost flee those cares which thou hast well bestowed?

Oh, now my former wretchedness is joy.

Turn back, while still thou mayst, and save thyself.

Tantalus:What cause, O father, forces thee to leaveThy native land at last regained? Why now,430When richest gifts are falling in thy lap,Dost turn away? Thy brother's wrath is o'er;And he has turned himself once more to thee,Has given thee back thy share of sovereignty,Restored our shattered house to harmony,And made thee master of thyself again.

Tantalus:What cause, O father, forces thee to leave

Thy native land at last regained? Why now,430

When richest gifts are falling in thy lap,

Dost turn away? Thy brother's wrath is o'er;

And he has turned himself once more to thee,

Has given thee back thy share of sovereignty,

Restored our shattered house to harmony,

And made thee master of thyself again.

Thyestes:Thou askest why I fear—I cannot tell.No cause for fear I see, but still I fear.435I long to go, and yet my trembling limbsGo on with faltering steps, and I am borneWhere I most stoutly struggle not to go.So, when a ship by oar and sail is driven,The tide, resisting both, bears it away.

Thyestes:Thou askest why I fear—I cannot tell.

No cause for fear I see, but still I fear.435

I long to go, and yet my trembling limbs

Go on with faltering steps, and I am borne

Where I most stoutly struggle not to go.

So, when a ship by oar and sail is driven,

The tide, resisting both, bears it away.

Tantalus:But thou must overcome whate'er it be440That doth oppose and hold thy soul in check;And see how great rewards await thee here:Thou canst be king.

Tantalus:But thou must overcome whate'er it be440

That doth oppose and hold thy soul in check;

And see how great rewards await thee here:

Thou canst be king.

Thyestes:Since I have power to die.

Tantalus:But royal power is—

Thyestes:Naught, if only thouNo power dost covet.

Thyestes:Naught, if only thou

No power dost covet.

Tantalus:Leave it to thy sons.

Thyestes:No realm on earth can stand divided power.

Tantalus:Should he, who can be happy, still be sad?445

Thyestes:Believe me, son, 'tis by their lying namesThat things seem great, while others harsh appearWhich are not truly so. When high in powerI stood, I never ceased to be in fear;Yea, even did I fear the very swordUpon my thigh. Oh, what a boon it isTo be at feud with none, to eat one's bread450Without a trace of care, upon the ground!Crime enters not the poor man's humble cot;And all in safety may one take his foodFrom slender boards; for 'tis in cups of goldThat poison lurks—I speak what I do know.Ill fortune is to be preferred to good.For since my palace does not threatening stand455In pride upon some lofty mountain top,The people fear me not; my towering roofsGleam not with ivory, nor do I needA watchful guard to keep me while I sleep.I do not fish with fleets, nor drive the seaWith massive dykes back from its natural shore;460I do not gorge me at the world's expense;For me no fields remote are harvestedBeyond the Getae and the Parthians;No incense burns for me, nor are my shrinesAdorned in impious neglect of Jove;No forests wave upon my battlements,No vast pools steam for my delight; my days465Are not to slumber given, nor do I spendThe livelong night in drunken revelry.No one feels fear of me, and so my home,Though all unguarded, is from danger free;For poverty alone may be at peace.And this I hold: the mightiest king is he,Who from the lust of sovereignty is free.470

Thyestes:Believe me, son, 'tis by their lying names

That things seem great, while others harsh appear

Which are not truly so. When high in power

I stood, I never ceased to be in fear;

Yea, even did I fear the very sword

Upon my thigh. Oh, what a boon it is

To be at feud with none, to eat one's bread450

Without a trace of care, upon the ground!

Crime enters not the poor man's humble cot;

And all in safety may one take his food

From slender boards; for 'tis in cups of gold

That poison lurks—I speak what I do know.

Ill fortune is to be preferred to good.

For since my palace does not threatening stand455

In pride upon some lofty mountain top,

The people fear me not; my towering roofs

Gleam not with ivory, nor do I need

A watchful guard to keep me while I sleep.

I do not fish with fleets, nor drive the sea

With massive dykes back from its natural shore;460

I do not gorge me at the world's expense;

For me no fields remote are harvested

Beyond the Getae and the Parthians;

No incense burns for me, nor are my shrines

Adorned in impious neglect of Jove;

No forests wave upon my battlements,

No vast pools steam for my delight; my days465

Are not to slumber given, nor do I spend

The livelong night in drunken revelry.

No one feels fear of me, and so my home,

Though all unguarded, is from danger free;

For poverty alone may be at peace.

And this I hold: the mightiest king is he,

Who from the lust of sovereignty is free.470

Tantalus:But if some god a kingdom should bestow,It is not meet for mortal to refuse:Behold, thy brother bids thee to the throne.

Tantalus:But if some god a kingdom should bestow,

It is not meet for mortal to refuse:

Behold, thy brother bids thee to the throne.

Thyestes:He bids? 'Tis but a cloak for treachery.

Tantalus:But brotherly regard ofttimes returnsUnto the heart from which it has been driven;And righteous love regains its former strength.

Tantalus:But brotherly regard ofttimes returns

Unto the heart from which it has been driven;

And righteous love regains its former strength.

Thyestes:And dost thou speak of brother's love to me?475Sooner shall ocean bathe the heavenly Bears,The raging waves of Sicily be still;And sooner shall the Ionian waters yieldRipe fields of grain; black night illume the earth;And fire shall mate with water, life with death,480And winds shall make a treaty with the sea:Than shall Thyestes know a brother's love.

Thyestes:And dost thou speak of brother's love to me?475

Sooner shall ocean bathe the heavenly Bears,

The raging waves of Sicily be still;

And sooner shall the Ionian waters yield

Ripe fields of grain; black night illume the earth;

And fire shall mate with water, life with death,480

And winds shall make a treaty with the sea:

Than shall Thyestes know a brother's love.

Tantalus:What treachery dost thou fear?

Thyestes:All treachery.What proper limit shall I give my fear?My brother's power is boundless as his hate.

Thyestes:All treachery.

What proper limit shall I give my fear?

My brother's power is boundless as his hate.

Tantalus:How can he harm thee?

Thyestes:For myself alone485I have no fears; but 'tis for you, my sons,That Atreus must be held in fear by me.

Thyestes:For myself alone485

I have no fears; but 'tis for you, my sons,

That Atreus must be held in fear by me.

Tantalus:But canst thou be o'ercome, if on thy guard?

Thyestes:Too late one guards when in the midst of ills.But let us on. In this one thing I showMy fatherhood: I do not lead to ill,But follow you.

Thyestes:Too late one guards when in the midst of ills.

But let us on. In this one thing I show

My fatherhood: I do not lead to ill,

But follow you.

Tantalus:If well we heed our ways,God will protect us. Come with courage on.490

Tantalus:If well we heed our ways,

God will protect us. Come with courage on.490

Atreus[coming upon the scene, seesThyestesand his three sons, and gloats over the fact that his brother is at last in his power. He speaks aside]: Now is the prey fast caught within my toils.I see the father and his hated brood,And here my vengeful hate is safe bestowed;For now at last he's come into my hands;He's come, Thyestes and his children—all!495When I see him I scarce can curb my grief,And keep my soul from breaking madly forth.So when the Umbrian hound pursues the prey,Keen scented, on the long leash held, he goesWith lowered muzzle questing on the trail.While distant still the game and faint the scent,Obedient to the leash, with silent tongue500He goes along; but when the prey is near,With straining neck he struggles to be free,Bays loud against the cautious hunter's check,And bursts from all restraint.When, near at hand,Hot wrath perceives the blood for which it thirsts,It cannot be restrained. Yet must it be.See how his unkempt, matted hair conceals505His woeful countenance; how foul his beard.[He now addressesThyestes.]My promised faith, my brother, will I keep;'Tis a delight to see thee once again.Come to my arms in mutual embrace;For all the anger which I felt for theeHas melted clean away. From this time forthLet ties of blood be cherished, love and faith;510And let that hatred which has cursed us bothForever vanish from our kindred souls.

Atreus[coming upon the scene, seesThyestesand his three sons, and gloats over the fact that his brother is at last in his power. He speaks aside]: Now is the prey fast caught within my toils.

I see the father and his hated brood,

And here my vengeful hate is safe bestowed;

For now at last he's come into my hands;

He's come, Thyestes and his children—all!495

When I see him I scarce can curb my grief,

And keep my soul from breaking madly forth.

So when the Umbrian hound pursues the prey,

Keen scented, on the long leash held, he goes

With lowered muzzle questing on the trail.

While distant still the game and faint the scent,

Obedient to the leash, with silent tongue500

He goes along; but when the prey is near,

With straining neck he struggles to be free,

Bays loud against the cautious hunter's check,

And bursts from all restraint.

When, near at hand,

Hot wrath perceives the blood for which it thirsts,

It cannot be restrained. Yet must it be.

See how his unkempt, matted hair conceals505

His woeful countenance; how foul his beard.

[He now addressesThyestes.]

My promised faith, my brother, will I keep;

'Tis a delight to see thee once again.

Come to my arms in mutual embrace;

For all the anger which I felt for thee

Has melted clean away. From this time forth

Let ties of blood be cherished, love and faith;510

And let that hatred which has cursed us both

Forever vanish from our kindred souls.

Thyestes:I should attempt to palliate my sins,Hadst thou not shown me such fraternal love;But now I own, my brother, now I ownThat I have sinned against thee past belief.Thy faithful piety has made my caseSeem blacker still. A double sinner he515Who sins against a brother such as thou.Now let my tears my penitence approve.Thou, first of all mankind, beholdest meA suppliant; these hands, which never yetHave touched the feet of man, are laid on thine.Let all thy wrathful feelings be forgot,Be utterly erased from off thy soul;520And take, O brother, as my pledge of faithThese guiltless sons of mine.

Thyestes:I should attempt to palliate my sins,

Hadst thou not shown me such fraternal love;

But now I own, my brother, now I own

That I have sinned against thee past belief.

Thy faithful piety has made my case

Seem blacker still. A double sinner he515

Who sins against a brother such as thou.

Now let my tears my penitence approve.

Thou, first of all mankind, beholdest me

A suppliant; these hands, which never yet

Have touched the feet of man, are laid on thine.

Let all thy wrathful feelings be forgot,

Be utterly erased from off thy soul;520

And take, O brother, as my pledge of faith

These guiltless sons of mine.

Atreus:Lay not thy handsUpon my knees. Come, rather, to my arms.And you, dear youths, the comforters of age,Come cling about my neck. Those rags of woe,My brother, lay aside, and spare mine eyes;And clothe thyself more fittingly in these,525The equal of my own. And, last of all,Accept thine equal share of this our realm.'Twill bring a greater meed of praise to me,To restore thee safely to thy father's throne.For chance may put the scepter in our hands;But only virtue seeks to give it up.

Atreus:Lay not thy hands

Upon my knees. Come, rather, to my arms.

And you, dear youths, the comforters of age,

Come cling about my neck. Those rags of woe,

My brother, lay aside, and spare mine eyes;

And clothe thyself more fittingly in these,525

The equal of my own. And, last of all,

Accept thine equal share of this our realm.

'Twill bring a greater meed of praise to me,

To restore thee safely to thy father's throne.

For chance may put the scepter in our hands;

But only virtue seeks to give it up.

Thyestes:May heaven, my brother, worthily repay530These deeds of thine. But this my wretched headWill not consent to wear a diadem,Nor my ill-omened hand to hold the staffOf power. Nay, rather, let me hide myselfAmong the throng.

Thyestes:May heaven, my brother, worthily repay530

These deeds of thine. But this my wretched head

Will not consent to wear a diadem,

Nor my ill-omened hand to hold the staff

Of power. Nay, rather, let me hide myself

Among the throng.

Atreus:There's room upon the throne.

Thyestes:But I shall know that all of thine is mine.535

Atreus:But who would throw away good fortune's gifts?

Thyestes:Whoe'er has found how easily they fail.

Atreus:And wouldst thou thwart thy brother's great renown?

Thyestes:Thy glory is attained; mine bides its time.My mind is resolute to shun the crown.540

Thyestes:Thy glory is attained; mine bides its time.

My mind is resolute to shun the crown.540

Atreus:Then I refuse my share of power as well.

Thyestes:Nay then, I yield. The name of king I'll wear,But laws and arms—and I, are thine to sway.

Thyestes:Nay then, I yield. The name of king I'll wear,

But laws and arms—and I, are thine to sway.

Atreus[placing the crown on his brother's head]: I'll place this crown upon thy reverend head,And pay the destined victims to the gods.545

Atreus[placing the crown on his brother's head]: I'll place this crown upon thy reverend head,

And pay the destined victims to the gods.545

Chorus:The sight is past belief. Behold,This Atreus, fierce and bold of soul,By every cruel passion swayed,When first he saw his brother's faceWas held in dumb amaze.No force is greater than the powerOf Nature's ties of love. 'Tis trueThat wars with foreign foes endure;550But they whom true love once has boundWill ever feel its ties.When wrath, by some great cause aroused,Hath burst the bonds of amity,And raised the dreadful cry of war;When gleaming squadrons thunder downWith champing steeds; when flashing swords,555By carnage-maddened Mars upreared,Gleam with a deadly rain of blows:E'en then for sacred pietyThose warring hands will sheathe the swordAnd join in the clasp of peace.What god has given this sudden lull560In the midst of loud alarms? But nowThroughout Mycenae's borders rangThe noisy prelude of a strife'Twixt brothers' arms. Here mothers paleEmbraced their sons, and the trembling wifeLooked on her arméd lord in fear,While the sword to his hand reluctant came,565Foul with the rust of peace.One strove to renew the tottering walls,And one to strengthen the shattered towers,And close the gates with iron bars;While on the battlements the guard570His anxious nightly vigils kept.The daily fear of war is worseThan war itself.But fallen now are the sword's dire threats,The deep-voiced trumpet-blare is still,And the shrill, harsh notes of the clarion575Are heard no more. While peace profoundBroods once again o'er the happy state.So when, beneath the storm blast's lash,The heaving waves break on the shoreOf Bruttium, and Scylla roarsResponsive from her cavern's depths;Then, even within their sheltered port,580The sailors fear the foaming seaWhich greedy Charybdis vomits up;And Cyclops dreads his father's rageWhere he sits on burning Aetna's crag,Lest the deathless flames on his roaring forge585Be quenched by the overwhelming floods;When poor Laërtes feels the shockOf reeling Ithaca, and thinksThat his island realm will be swallowed up:Then, if the fierce winds die away,The waves sink back in their quiet depths;And the sea, which of late the vessels feared,590Now far and wide with swelling sailsIs overspread, while tiny skiffsSkim safely o'er its harmless breast;And one may count the very fishDeep down within the peaceful caves,Where but now, beneath the raging blast,The battered islands feared the sea.595No lot endureth long. For griefAnd pleasure, each in turn, depart;But pleasure has a briefer reign.From lowest to the highest stateA fleeting hour may bring us. He,Who wears a crown upon his brow,To whom the trembling nations kneel,600Before whose nod the barbarous MedesLay down their arms, the Indians too,Who dwell beneath the nearer sun,And Dacians, who the Parthian horseAre ever threat'ning: he, the king,With anxious mind the scepter bears,Foresees and fears the fickle chance605And shifting time which soon or lateShall all his power overthrow.Ye, whom the ruler of the landAnd sea has given o'er subject menThe fearful power of life and death,Abate your overweening pride.For whatsoever fear of you610Your weaker subjects feel today,Tomorrow shall a stronger lordInspire in you. For every powerIs subject to a greater power.Him, whom the dawning day beholdsIn proud estate, the setting sunSees lying in the dust.Let no one then trust overmuch615To favoring fate; and when she frowns,Let no one utterly despairOf better fortune yet to come.For Clotho mingles good and ill;She whirls the wheel of fate around,Nor suffers it to stand.To no one are the gods so goodThat he may safely call his own620Tomorrow's dawn; for on the whirling wheelHas God our fortunes placed for good or ill.

Chorus:The sight is past belief. Behold,

This Atreus, fierce and bold of soul,

By every cruel passion swayed,

When first he saw his brother's face

Was held in dumb amaze.

No force is greater than the power

Of Nature's ties of love. 'Tis true

That wars with foreign foes endure;550

But they whom true love once has bound

Will ever feel its ties.

When wrath, by some great cause aroused,

Hath burst the bonds of amity,

And raised the dreadful cry of war;

When gleaming squadrons thunder down

With champing steeds; when flashing swords,555

By carnage-maddened Mars upreared,

Gleam with a deadly rain of blows:

E'en then for sacred piety

Those warring hands will sheathe the sword

And join in the clasp of peace.

What god has given this sudden lull560

In the midst of loud alarms? But now

Throughout Mycenae's borders rang

The noisy prelude of a strife

'Twixt brothers' arms. Here mothers pale

Embraced their sons, and the trembling wife

Looked on her arméd lord in fear,

While the sword to his hand reluctant came,565

Foul with the rust of peace.

One strove to renew the tottering walls,

And one to strengthen the shattered towers,

And close the gates with iron bars;

While on the battlements the guard570

His anxious nightly vigils kept.

The daily fear of war is worse

Than war itself.

But fallen now are the sword's dire threats,

The deep-voiced trumpet-blare is still,

And the shrill, harsh notes of the clarion575

Are heard no more. While peace profound

Broods once again o'er the happy state.

So when, beneath the storm blast's lash,

The heaving waves break on the shore

Of Bruttium, and Scylla roars

Responsive from her cavern's depths;

Then, even within their sheltered port,580

The sailors fear the foaming sea

Which greedy Charybdis vomits up;

And Cyclops dreads his father's rage

Where he sits on burning Aetna's crag,

Lest the deathless flames on his roaring forge585

Be quenched by the overwhelming floods;

When poor Laërtes feels the shock

Of reeling Ithaca, and thinks

That his island realm will be swallowed up:

Then, if the fierce winds die away,

The waves sink back in their quiet depths;

And the sea, which of late the vessels feared,590

Now far and wide with swelling sails

Is overspread, while tiny skiffs

Skim safely o'er its harmless breast;

And one may count the very fish

Deep down within the peaceful caves,

Where but now, beneath the raging blast,

The battered islands feared the sea.595

No lot endureth long. For grief

And pleasure, each in turn, depart;

But pleasure has a briefer reign.

From lowest to the highest state

A fleeting hour may bring us. He,

Who wears a crown upon his brow,

To whom the trembling nations kneel,600

Before whose nod the barbarous Medes

Lay down their arms, the Indians too,

Who dwell beneath the nearer sun,

And Dacians, who the Parthian horse

Are ever threat'ning: he, the king,

With anxious mind the scepter bears,

Foresees and fears the fickle chance605

And shifting time which soon or late

Shall all his power overthrow.

Ye, whom the ruler of the land

And sea has given o'er subject men

The fearful power of life and death,

Abate your overweening pride.

For whatsoever fear of you610

Your weaker subjects feel today,

Tomorrow shall a stronger lord

Inspire in you. For every power

Is subject to a greater power.

Him, whom the dawning day beholds

In proud estate, the setting sun

Sees lying in the dust.

Let no one then trust overmuch615

To favoring fate; and when she frowns,

Let no one utterly despair

Of better fortune yet to come.

For Clotho mingles good and ill;

She whirls the wheel of fate around,

Nor suffers it to stand.

To no one are the gods so good

That he may safely call his own620

Tomorrow's dawn; for on the whirling wheel

Has God our fortunes placed for good or ill.

[EnterMessengerbreathlessly announcing the horror which has just been enacted behind the scenes.]

Messenger:Oh, for some raging blast to carry meWith headlong speed through distant realms of air,And wrap me in the darkness of the clouds;That so I might this monstrous horror tearFrom my remembrance. Oh, thou house of shame625To Pelops even and to Tantalus!Chorus:What is the news thou bring'st?Messenger:What realm is this?Argos and Sparta, once the noble homeOf pious brothers? Corinth, on whose shoresTwo rival oceans beat? Or do I seeThe barbarous Danube on whose frozen streamThe savage Alani make swift retreat?630Hyrcania beneath eternal snows?Or those wide plains of wandering Scythians?What place is this that knows such hideous crime?Chorus:But tell thy tidings, whatsoe'er they be.Messenger:When I my scattered senses gather up,And horrid fear lets go its numbing holdUpon my limbs. Oh, but I see it still,The ghastly picture of that dreadful deed!635Oh, come, ye whirlwinds wild, and bear me far,Far distant, where the vanished day is borne.Chorus:Thou hold'st our minds in dire uncertainty.Speak out and tell us what this horror is,And who its author. Yet would I inquireNot who, but which he is. Speak quickly, then.640Messenger:There is upon the lofty citadelA part of Pelops' house that fronts the south,Whose farther side lifts up its massive wallsTo mountain heights; for so the reigning kingMay better sway the town, and hold in checkThe common rabble when it scorns the throne.Within this palace is a gleaming hall,645So huge, it may a multitude contain;Whose golden architraves are high upborneBy stately columns of a varied hue.Behind this public hall where people throng,The palace stretches off in spacious rooms;And, deep withdrawn, the royal sanctum lies,650Far from the vulgar gaze. This sacred spotAn ancient grove within a dale confines,Wherein no tree its cheerful shade affords,Or by the knife is pruned; but cypress treesAnd yews, and woods of gloomy ilex waveTheir melancholy boughs. Above them all655A towering oak looks down and spreads abroad,O'ershadowing all the grove. Within this placeThe royal sons of Tantalus are wontTo ask consent of heaven to their rule,And here to seek its aid when fortune frowns.Here hang their consecrated offerings:Sonorous trumpets, broken chariots,Those famous spoils of the Myrtoan sea;660Still hang upon the treacherous axle-treesThe conquered chariot-wheels—mementoes grimOf every crime this sinful race has done.Here also is the Phrygian turban hungOf Pelops' self; and here the spoil of foes,A rich embroidered robe, the prize of war.An oozy stream springs there beneath the shade,665And sluggish creeps along within the swamp,Just like the ugly waters of the StyxWhich bind the oaths of heaven. 'Tis said that hereAt dead of night the hellish gods make moan,And all the grove resounds with clanking chains,And mournful howl of ghosts. Here may be seen670Whatever, but to hear of, causes fear.The spirits of the ancient dead come forthFrom old, decaying tombs, and walk abroad;While monsters, greater than the world has known,Go leaping round, grotesque and terrible.The whole wood gleams with an uncanny light,And without sign of fire the palace glows.Ofttimes the grove re-echoes with the sound675Of threefold bayings of the dogs of hell,And oft do mighty shapes affright the house.Nor are these fears allayed by light of day;For night reigns ever here, and e'en at noonThe horror of the underworld abides.From this dread spot are sure responses given680To those who seek the oracle; the fatesWith mighty sound from out the grot are told,And all the cavern thunders with the god.'Twas to this spot that maddened Atreus came,His brother's children dragging in his train.The sacrificial altars are adorned—Oh, who can worthily describe the deed?Behind their backs the noble captives' hands685Are bound, and purple fillets wreathe their brows.All things are ready, incense, sacred wine,The sacrificial meal, and fatal knife.The last detail is properly observed,That this outrageous murder may be doneIn strict observance of the ritual!Chorus:Who lays his hand unto the fatal steel?690Messenger:He is himself the priest; the baleful prayerHe makes, and chants the sacrificial songWith wild and boisterous words; before the shrineHe takes his place; the victims doomed to deathHe sets in order, and prepares the sword.He gives the closest heed to all detailsAnd misses no least portion of the rite.695The grove begins to tremble, earth to quake,And all the palace totters with the shock,And seems to hesitate in conscious doubtWhere it shall throw its ponderous masses down.High on the left a star with darkling trainShoots swift athwart the sky; the sacred winePoured at the altar fires, with horrid change,700Turns bloody as it flows. The royal crownFell twice and yet again from Atreus' head,And the ivory statues in the temple wept.These monstrous portents moved all others sore;But Atreus, only, held himself unmoved,And even set the threat'ning gods at naught.And now delay is at an end. He stands705Before the shrine with lowering, sidelong gaze.As in the jungle by the Ganges streamA hungry tigress stands between two bulls,Eager for both, but yet in doubtful moodWhich first shall feel her fangs (to this she turns710With gaping jaws, then back to that again,And holds her raging hunger in suspense):So cruel Atreus eyes the victims doomedTo sate his curséd wrath; and hesitatesWho first shall feel the knife, and who shall dieThe next in order. 'Tis of no concern,But still he hesitates, and gloats awhile715In planning how to do the horrid deed.Chorus:Who then is first to die?Messenger:First place he gives(Lest you should think him lacking in respect)Unto his grandsire's namesake, Tantalus.Chorus:What spirit, what demeanor showed the youth?Messenger:He stood quite unconcerned, nor strove to plead,720Knowing such prayer were vain. But in his neckThat savage butcher plunged his gleaming swordClear to the hilt and drew it forth again.Still stood the corpse upright, and, wavering long,As 'twere in doubt or here or there to fall,725At last prone on the uncle hurled itself.Then he, his rancor unabated still,Dragged youthful Plisthenes before the shrine,And quickly meted him his brother's fate.With one keen blow he smote him on the neck,Whereat his bleeding body fell to earth;While with a murmur inarticulate,His head with look complaining rolled away.Chorus:What did he then, this twofold murder done?730The last one spare, or heap up crime on crime?Messenger:As when some manéd lion in the woodsVictorious attacks the Armenian herds—(His jaws are smeared with blood, his hunger gone;And yet he does not lay aside his wrath;735Now here, now there he charges on the bulls,And now the calves he worries, though his teethAre weary with their work)—so Atreus raves;He swells with wrath; and, grasping in his handThe sword with double slaughter dripping yet,By fury blinded but with deadly stroke,He drives clean through the body of the boy.740And so, from breast to back transfixed, he fallsBy double wound, and with his streaming bloodExtinguishes the baleful altar fires.Chorus:Oh, horrid deed!Messenger:What! horrid call ye that?If only there the course of crime had stopped,'Twould pious seem.745Chorus:What more atrocious crime,What greater sin could human heart conceive?Messenger:And do ye think his crime was ended here?'Twas just begun.Chorus:What further could there be?Perchance he threw the corpses to be tornBy raving beasts, and kept them from the fire?Messenger:Would that he had! I do not pray for this,That friendly earth may give them burial,Or funeral fires consume; but only this,750That as a ghastly meal they may be thrownTo birds and savage beasts. Such is my prayer,Which otherwise were direful punishment.Oh, that the father might their corpses seeDenied to sepulture! Oh, crime of crimes,Incredible in any age; a crimeWhich coming generations will refuseTo hear! Behold, from breasts yet warm with life,755The exta, plucked away, lie quivering,The lungs still breathe, the timid heart still beats.But he the organs with a practiced handTurns deftly over, and inquires the fates,Observing carefully the viscera.With this inspection satisfied at length,With mind at ease, he now is free to plan760His brother's awful feast. With his own handThe bodies he dismembers, carving offThe arms and shoulders, laying bare the bones,And all with savage joy. He only savesThe heads and hands, those hands which he himselfHad clasped in friendly faith. Some of the fleshIs placed on spits and by the roasting fires765Hangs dripping; other parts into a potAre thrown, where on the water's seething streamThey leap about. The fire in horror shrinksFrom the polluting touch of such a feast,Recoils upon the shuddering altar-hearthTwice and again, until at last constrained,Though with repugnance strong, it fiercely burns.The liver sputters strangely on the spits;770Nor could I say whether the flesh or flamesGroan more. The fitful flames die out in smokeOf pitchy blackness; and the smoke itself,A heavy mournful cloud, mounts not aloftIn upward-shooting columns, straight and high,But settles down like a disfiguring shroudUpon the very statues of the gods.775O all-enduring sun, though thou didst fleeIn horror from the sight, and the radiant noonDidst into darkness plunge; 'twas all too late.The father tears his sons, and impiously feastsOn his own flesh. See, there in state he sits,His hair anointed with the dripping nard,780His senses dulled with wine. And oft the food,As if in horror held, sticks in his throat.In this thine evil hour one good remains,One only, O Thyestes: that to knowThy depth of suffering is spared to thee.But even this will perish. Though the sunShould turn his chariot backward on its course,785And night, at noon arising from the earth,Should quite obscure this foul and ghastly crimeWith shades unknown, it could not be concealed;For every evil deed shall be revealed.

Messenger:Oh, for some raging blast to carry me

With headlong speed through distant realms of air,

And wrap me in the darkness of the clouds;

That so I might this monstrous horror tear

From my remembrance. Oh, thou house of shame625

To Pelops even and to Tantalus!

Chorus:What is the news thou bring'st?

Messenger:What realm is this?Argos and Sparta, once the noble homeOf pious brothers? Corinth, on whose shoresTwo rival oceans beat? Or do I seeThe barbarous Danube on whose frozen streamThe savage Alani make swift retreat?630Hyrcania beneath eternal snows?Or those wide plains of wandering Scythians?What place is this that knows such hideous crime?

Messenger:What realm is this?

Argos and Sparta, once the noble home

Of pious brothers? Corinth, on whose shores

Two rival oceans beat? Or do I see

The barbarous Danube on whose frozen stream

The savage Alani make swift retreat?630

Hyrcania beneath eternal snows?

Or those wide plains of wandering Scythians?

What place is this that knows such hideous crime?

Chorus:But tell thy tidings, whatsoe'er they be.

Messenger:When I my scattered senses gather up,And horrid fear lets go its numbing holdUpon my limbs. Oh, but I see it still,The ghastly picture of that dreadful deed!635Oh, come, ye whirlwinds wild, and bear me far,Far distant, where the vanished day is borne.

Messenger:When I my scattered senses gather up,

And horrid fear lets go its numbing hold

Upon my limbs. Oh, but I see it still,

The ghastly picture of that dreadful deed!635

Oh, come, ye whirlwinds wild, and bear me far,

Far distant, where the vanished day is borne.

Chorus:Thou hold'st our minds in dire uncertainty.Speak out and tell us what this horror is,And who its author. Yet would I inquireNot who, but which he is. Speak quickly, then.640

Chorus:Thou hold'st our minds in dire uncertainty.

Speak out and tell us what this horror is,

And who its author. Yet would I inquire

Not who, but which he is. Speak quickly, then.640

Messenger:There is upon the lofty citadelA part of Pelops' house that fronts the south,Whose farther side lifts up its massive wallsTo mountain heights; for so the reigning kingMay better sway the town, and hold in checkThe common rabble when it scorns the throne.Within this palace is a gleaming hall,645So huge, it may a multitude contain;Whose golden architraves are high upborneBy stately columns of a varied hue.Behind this public hall where people throng,The palace stretches off in spacious rooms;And, deep withdrawn, the royal sanctum lies,650Far from the vulgar gaze. This sacred spotAn ancient grove within a dale confines,Wherein no tree its cheerful shade affords,Or by the knife is pruned; but cypress treesAnd yews, and woods of gloomy ilex waveTheir melancholy boughs. Above them all655A towering oak looks down and spreads abroad,O'ershadowing all the grove. Within this placeThe royal sons of Tantalus are wontTo ask consent of heaven to their rule,And here to seek its aid when fortune frowns.Here hang their consecrated offerings:Sonorous trumpets, broken chariots,Those famous spoils of the Myrtoan sea;660Still hang upon the treacherous axle-treesThe conquered chariot-wheels—mementoes grimOf every crime this sinful race has done.Here also is the Phrygian turban hungOf Pelops' self; and here the spoil of foes,A rich embroidered robe, the prize of war.An oozy stream springs there beneath the shade,665And sluggish creeps along within the swamp,Just like the ugly waters of the StyxWhich bind the oaths of heaven. 'Tis said that hereAt dead of night the hellish gods make moan,And all the grove resounds with clanking chains,And mournful howl of ghosts. Here may be seen670Whatever, but to hear of, causes fear.The spirits of the ancient dead come forthFrom old, decaying tombs, and walk abroad;While monsters, greater than the world has known,Go leaping round, grotesque and terrible.The whole wood gleams with an uncanny light,And without sign of fire the palace glows.Ofttimes the grove re-echoes with the sound675Of threefold bayings of the dogs of hell,And oft do mighty shapes affright the house.Nor are these fears allayed by light of day;For night reigns ever here, and e'en at noonThe horror of the underworld abides.From this dread spot are sure responses given680To those who seek the oracle; the fatesWith mighty sound from out the grot are told,And all the cavern thunders with the god.'Twas to this spot that maddened Atreus came,His brother's children dragging in his train.The sacrificial altars are adorned—Oh, who can worthily describe the deed?Behind their backs the noble captives' hands685Are bound, and purple fillets wreathe their brows.All things are ready, incense, sacred wine,The sacrificial meal, and fatal knife.The last detail is properly observed,That this outrageous murder may be doneIn strict observance of the ritual!

Messenger:There is upon the lofty citadel

A part of Pelops' house that fronts the south,

Whose farther side lifts up its massive walls

To mountain heights; for so the reigning king

May better sway the town, and hold in check

The common rabble when it scorns the throne.

Within this palace is a gleaming hall,645

So huge, it may a multitude contain;

Whose golden architraves are high upborne

By stately columns of a varied hue.

Behind this public hall where people throng,

The palace stretches off in spacious rooms;

And, deep withdrawn, the royal sanctum lies,650

Far from the vulgar gaze. This sacred spot

An ancient grove within a dale confines,

Wherein no tree its cheerful shade affords,

Or by the knife is pruned; but cypress trees

And yews, and woods of gloomy ilex wave

Their melancholy boughs. Above them all655

A towering oak looks down and spreads abroad,

O'ershadowing all the grove. Within this place

The royal sons of Tantalus are wont

To ask consent of heaven to their rule,

And here to seek its aid when fortune frowns.

Here hang their consecrated offerings:

Sonorous trumpets, broken chariots,

Those famous spoils of the Myrtoan sea;660

Still hang upon the treacherous axle-trees

The conquered chariot-wheels—mementoes grim

Of every crime this sinful race has done.

Here also is the Phrygian turban hung

Of Pelops' self; and here the spoil of foes,

A rich embroidered robe, the prize of war.

An oozy stream springs there beneath the shade,665

And sluggish creeps along within the swamp,

Just like the ugly waters of the Styx

Which bind the oaths of heaven. 'Tis said that here

At dead of night the hellish gods make moan,

And all the grove resounds with clanking chains,

And mournful howl of ghosts. Here may be seen670

Whatever, but to hear of, causes fear.

The spirits of the ancient dead come forth

From old, decaying tombs, and walk abroad;

While monsters, greater than the world has known,

Go leaping round, grotesque and terrible.

The whole wood gleams with an uncanny light,

And without sign of fire the palace glows.

Ofttimes the grove re-echoes with the sound675

Of threefold bayings of the dogs of hell,

And oft do mighty shapes affright the house.

Nor are these fears allayed by light of day;

For night reigns ever here, and e'en at noon

The horror of the underworld abides.

From this dread spot are sure responses given680

To those who seek the oracle; the fates

With mighty sound from out the grot are told,

And all the cavern thunders with the god.

'Twas to this spot that maddened Atreus came,

His brother's children dragging in his train.

The sacrificial altars are adorned—

Oh, who can worthily describe the deed?

Behind their backs the noble captives' hands685

Are bound, and purple fillets wreathe their brows.

All things are ready, incense, sacred wine,

The sacrificial meal, and fatal knife.

The last detail is properly observed,

That this outrageous murder may be done

In strict observance of the ritual!

Chorus:Who lays his hand unto the fatal steel?690

Messenger:He is himself the priest; the baleful prayerHe makes, and chants the sacrificial songWith wild and boisterous words; before the shrineHe takes his place; the victims doomed to deathHe sets in order, and prepares the sword.He gives the closest heed to all detailsAnd misses no least portion of the rite.695The grove begins to tremble, earth to quake,And all the palace totters with the shock,And seems to hesitate in conscious doubtWhere it shall throw its ponderous masses down.High on the left a star with darkling trainShoots swift athwart the sky; the sacred winePoured at the altar fires, with horrid change,700Turns bloody as it flows. The royal crownFell twice and yet again from Atreus' head,And the ivory statues in the temple wept.These monstrous portents moved all others sore;But Atreus, only, held himself unmoved,And even set the threat'ning gods at naught.And now delay is at an end. He stands705Before the shrine with lowering, sidelong gaze.As in the jungle by the Ganges streamA hungry tigress stands between two bulls,Eager for both, but yet in doubtful moodWhich first shall feel her fangs (to this she turns710With gaping jaws, then back to that again,And holds her raging hunger in suspense):So cruel Atreus eyes the victims doomedTo sate his curséd wrath; and hesitatesWho first shall feel the knife, and who shall dieThe next in order. 'Tis of no concern,But still he hesitates, and gloats awhile715In planning how to do the horrid deed.

Messenger:He is himself the priest; the baleful prayer

He makes, and chants the sacrificial song

With wild and boisterous words; before the shrine

He takes his place; the victims doomed to death

He sets in order, and prepares the sword.

He gives the closest heed to all details

And misses no least portion of the rite.695

The grove begins to tremble, earth to quake,

And all the palace totters with the shock,

And seems to hesitate in conscious doubt

Where it shall throw its ponderous masses down.

High on the left a star with darkling train

Shoots swift athwart the sky; the sacred wine

Poured at the altar fires, with horrid change,700

Turns bloody as it flows. The royal crown

Fell twice and yet again from Atreus' head,

And the ivory statues in the temple wept.

These monstrous portents moved all others sore;

But Atreus, only, held himself unmoved,

And even set the threat'ning gods at naught.

And now delay is at an end. He stands705

Before the shrine with lowering, sidelong gaze.

As in the jungle by the Ganges stream

A hungry tigress stands between two bulls,

Eager for both, but yet in doubtful mood

Which first shall feel her fangs (to this she turns710

With gaping jaws, then back to that again,

And holds her raging hunger in suspense):

So cruel Atreus eyes the victims doomed

To sate his curséd wrath; and hesitates

Who first shall feel the knife, and who shall die

The next in order. 'Tis of no concern,

But still he hesitates, and gloats awhile715

In planning how to do the horrid deed.

Chorus:Who then is first to die?

Messenger:First place he gives(Lest you should think him lacking in respect)Unto his grandsire's namesake, Tantalus.

Messenger:First place he gives

(Lest you should think him lacking in respect)

Unto his grandsire's namesake, Tantalus.

Chorus:What spirit, what demeanor showed the youth?

Messenger:He stood quite unconcerned, nor strove to plead,720Knowing such prayer were vain. But in his neckThat savage butcher plunged his gleaming swordClear to the hilt and drew it forth again.Still stood the corpse upright, and, wavering long,As 'twere in doubt or here or there to fall,725At last prone on the uncle hurled itself.Then he, his rancor unabated still,Dragged youthful Plisthenes before the shrine,And quickly meted him his brother's fate.With one keen blow he smote him on the neck,Whereat his bleeding body fell to earth;While with a murmur inarticulate,His head with look complaining rolled away.

Messenger:He stood quite unconcerned, nor strove to plead,720

Knowing such prayer were vain. But in his neck

That savage butcher plunged his gleaming sword

Clear to the hilt and drew it forth again.

Still stood the corpse upright, and, wavering long,

As 'twere in doubt or here or there to fall,725

At last prone on the uncle hurled itself.

Then he, his rancor unabated still,

Dragged youthful Plisthenes before the shrine,

And quickly meted him his brother's fate.

With one keen blow he smote him on the neck,

Whereat his bleeding body fell to earth;

While with a murmur inarticulate,

His head with look complaining rolled away.

Chorus:What did he then, this twofold murder done?730The last one spare, or heap up crime on crime?

Chorus:What did he then, this twofold murder done?730

The last one spare, or heap up crime on crime?

Messenger:As when some manéd lion in the woodsVictorious attacks the Armenian herds—(His jaws are smeared with blood, his hunger gone;And yet he does not lay aside his wrath;735Now here, now there he charges on the bulls,And now the calves he worries, though his teethAre weary with their work)—so Atreus raves;He swells with wrath; and, grasping in his handThe sword with double slaughter dripping yet,By fury blinded but with deadly stroke,He drives clean through the body of the boy.740And so, from breast to back transfixed, he fallsBy double wound, and with his streaming bloodExtinguishes the baleful altar fires.

Messenger:As when some manéd lion in the woods

Victorious attacks the Armenian herds—

(His jaws are smeared with blood, his hunger gone;

And yet he does not lay aside his wrath;735

Now here, now there he charges on the bulls,

And now the calves he worries, though his teeth

Are weary with their work)—so Atreus raves;

He swells with wrath; and, grasping in his hand

The sword with double slaughter dripping yet,

By fury blinded but with deadly stroke,

He drives clean through the body of the boy.740

And so, from breast to back transfixed, he falls

By double wound, and with his streaming blood

Extinguishes the baleful altar fires.

Chorus:Oh, horrid deed!

Messenger:What! horrid call ye that?If only there the course of crime had stopped,'Twould pious seem.745

Messenger:What! horrid call ye that?

If only there the course of crime had stopped,

'Twould pious seem.745

Chorus:What more atrocious crime,What greater sin could human heart conceive?

Chorus:What more atrocious crime,

What greater sin could human heart conceive?

Messenger:And do ye think his crime was ended here?'Twas just begun.

Messenger:And do ye think his crime was ended here?

'Twas just begun.

Chorus:What further could there be?Perchance he threw the corpses to be tornBy raving beasts, and kept them from the fire?

Chorus:What further could there be?

Perchance he threw the corpses to be torn

By raving beasts, and kept them from the fire?

Messenger:Would that he had! I do not pray for this,That friendly earth may give them burial,Or funeral fires consume; but only this,750That as a ghastly meal they may be thrownTo birds and savage beasts. Such is my prayer,Which otherwise were direful punishment.Oh, that the father might their corpses seeDenied to sepulture! Oh, crime of crimes,Incredible in any age; a crimeWhich coming generations will refuseTo hear! Behold, from breasts yet warm with life,755The exta, plucked away, lie quivering,The lungs still breathe, the timid heart still beats.But he the organs with a practiced handTurns deftly over, and inquires the fates,Observing carefully the viscera.With this inspection satisfied at length,With mind at ease, he now is free to plan760His brother's awful feast. With his own handThe bodies he dismembers, carving offThe arms and shoulders, laying bare the bones,And all with savage joy. He only savesThe heads and hands, those hands which he himselfHad clasped in friendly faith. Some of the fleshIs placed on spits and by the roasting fires765Hangs dripping; other parts into a potAre thrown, where on the water's seething streamThey leap about. The fire in horror shrinksFrom the polluting touch of such a feast,Recoils upon the shuddering altar-hearthTwice and again, until at last constrained,Though with repugnance strong, it fiercely burns.The liver sputters strangely on the spits;770Nor could I say whether the flesh or flamesGroan more. The fitful flames die out in smokeOf pitchy blackness; and the smoke itself,A heavy mournful cloud, mounts not aloftIn upward-shooting columns, straight and high,But settles down like a disfiguring shroudUpon the very statues of the gods.775O all-enduring sun, though thou didst fleeIn horror from the sight, and the radiant noonDidst into darkness plunge; 'twas all too late.The father tears his sons, and impiously feastsOn his own flesh. See, there in state he sits,His hair anointed with the dripping nard,780His senses dulled with wine. And oft the food,As if in horror held, sticks in his throat.In this thine evil hour one good remains,One only, O Thyestes: that to knowThy depth of suffering is spared to thee.But even this will perish. Though the sunShould turn his chariot backward on its course,785And night, at noon arising from the earth,Should quite obscure this foul and ghastly crimeWith shades unknown, it could not be concealed;For every evil deed shall be revealed.

Messenger:Would that he had! I do not pray for this,

That friendly earth may give them burial,

Or funeral fires consume; but only this,750

That as a ghastly meal they may be thrown

To birds and savage beasts. Such is my prayer,

Which otherwise were direful punishment.

Oh, that the father might their corpses see

Denied to sepulture! Oh, crime of crimes,

Incredible in any age; a crime

Which coming generations will refuse

To hear! Behold, from breasts yet warm with life,755

The exta, plucked away, lie quivering,

The lungs still breathe, the timid heart still beats.

But he the organs with a practiced hand

Turns deftly over, and inquires the fates,

Observing carefully the viscera.

With this inspection satisfied at length,

With mind at ease, he now is free to plan760

His brother's awful feast. With his own hand

The bodies he dismembers, carving off

The arms and shoulders, laying bare the bones,

And all with savage joy. He only saves

The heads and hands, those hands which he himself

Had clasped in friendly faith. Some of the flesh

Is placed on spits and by the roasting fires765

Hangs dripping; other parts into a pot

Are thrown, where on the water's seething stream

They leap about. The fire in horror shrinks

From the polluting touch of such a feast,

Recoils upon the shuddering altar-hearth

Twice and again, until at last constrained,

Though with repugnance strong, it fiercely burns.

The liver sputters strangely on the spits;770

Nor could I say whether the flesh or flames

Groan more. The fitful flames die out in smoke

Of pitchy blackness; and the smoke itself,

A heavy mournful cloud, mounts not aloft

In upward-shooting columns, straight and high,

But settles down like a disfiguring shroud

Upon the very statues of the gods.775

O all-enduring sun, though thou didst flee

In horror from the sight, and the radiant noon

Didst into darkness plunge; 'twas all too late.

The father tears his sons, and impiously feasts

On his own flesh. See, there in state he sits,

His hair anointed with the dripping nard,780

His senses dulled with wine. And oft the food,

As if in horror held, sticks in his throat.

In this thine evil hour one good remains,

One only, O Thyestes: that to know

Thy depth of suffering is spared to thee.

But even this will perish. Though the sun

Should turn his chariot backward on its course,785

And night, at noon arising from the earth,

Should quite obscure this foul and ghastly crime

With shades unknown, it could not be concealed;

For every evil deed shall be revealed.

[Unnatural darkness has come over the world at midday.]

Chorus:O father of the earth and sky,Before whose rising beams the night790With all her glories flees away;Oh, whither dost thou turn thy course,And why, midway of heaven, does dayTo darkness turn? O Phoebus, whyDost turn away thy shining face?Not yet has evening's messengerCalled forth the nightly stars; not yet795The rounding of thy western goalBids loose thy horses from their toil;Not yet, as day fades into night,Sounds forth the trumpets' evening call.The plowman stands in dumb amaze,800With oxen still unspent with toil,To see the welcome supper hourSo quickly come. But what, O sun,Has driven thee from thy heavenly course?What cause from their accustomed wayHas turned thy steeds? Is war essayedOnce more by giants, bursting forthFrom out the riven gates of Dis?805Does Tityos, though wounded sore,Renew his ancient, deadly wrath?Perchance Typhoeus has thrown offHis mountain, and is free once more;Perchance once more a way to heaven810Those giants, felled in Phlegra's vale,Are building, and on Pelion's topAre piling Thracian Ossa high.The accustomed changes of the heavensAre gone to come no more. No moreThe rising and the setting sunShall we behold. Aurora bright,815The herald of the dewy morn,Whose wont it is to speed the sunUpon his way, now stands amazedTo see her kingdom overturned.She is not skilled to bathe his steeds,A-weary with their rapid course,Nor in the cooling sea to plunge820Their reeking manes. The sun himself,In setting, sees the place of dawn,And bids the darkness fill the skyWithout the aid of night. No starsCome out, nor do the heavens gleamWith any fires; no moon dispels825The darkness' black and heavy pall.Oh, that the night itself were here,Whatever this portends! Our heartsAre trembling, yea, are trembling sore,And smitten with a boding fearLest all the world in ruins fall,830And formless chaos as of yoreO'erwhelm us, gods and men; lest land,And all-encircling sea, and starsThat wander in the spangled heavens,Be buried in the general doom.No more with gleaming, deathless torch,835Shall Phoebus, lord of all the stars,Lead the procession of the yearsAnd mark the seasons; nevermoreShall Luna, flashing back his rays,Dispel the fears of night; and passIn shorter course her brother's car.840The throng of heavenly beings soonShall in one vast abyss be heaped.That shining path of sacred stars,Which cuts obliquely 'thwart the zones,845The standard-bearer of the years,Shall see the stars in ruin fall,Itself in ruin falling. He,The Ram, who, in the early spring,Restores the sails to the warming breeze,Shall headlong plunge into those waves850Through which the trembling maid of GreeceHe bore of old. And Taurus, whoUpon his horns like a garland wearsThe Hyades, shall drag with himThe sacred Twins, and the stretched-out clawsOf the curving Crab. With heat inflamed,Alcides' Lion once again855Shall fall from heaven; the Virgin, too,Back to the earth she left shall fall;And the righteous Scales with their mighty weights,Shall drag in their fall the Scorpion.And he, old Chiron, skilled to hold860Upon his bow of ThessalyThe feathered dart, shall lose his shaftsAnd break his bow. Cold Capricorn,Who ushers sluggish winter in,Shall fall from heaven, and break thy urn,Whoe'er thou art, O Waterman.865And with thee shall the Fish departRemotest of the stars of heaven;And those monsters[48]huge which never yetWere in the ocean plunged, shall soonWithin the all-engulfing seaBe swallowed up. And that huge Snake,Which like a winding river glides870Between the Bears, shall fall from heaven;[49]United with that serpent huge,The Lesser Bear, congealed with cold,And that slow driver of the WainNo longer stable in its course,Shall all in common ruin fall.Have we, of all the race of men,875Been worthy deemed to be o'erwhelmedAnd buried 'neath a riven earth?Is this our age the end of all?Alas, in evil hour of fateWere we begotten, wretched still,Whether the sun is lost to us880Or banished by our impious sins!But away with vain complaints and fear:Eager for life is he who would not die,Though all the world in death around him lie.

Chorus:O father of the earth and sky,

Before whose rising beams the night790

With all her glories flees away;

Oh, whither dost thou turn thy course,

And why, midway of heaven, does day

To darkness turn? O Phoebus, why

Dost turn away thy shining face?

Not yet has evening's messenger

Called forth the nightly stars; not yet795

The rounding of thy western goal

Bids loose thy horses from their toil;

Not yet, as day fades into night,

Sounds forth the trumpets' evening call.

The plowman stands in dumb amaze,800

With oxen still unspent with toil,

To see the welcome supper hour

So quickly come. But what, O sun,

Has driven thee from thy heavenly course?

What cause from their accustomed way

Has turned thy steeds? Is war essayed

Once more by giants, bursting forth

From out the riven gates of Dis?805

Does Tityos, though wounded sore,

Renew his ancient, deadly wrath?

Perchance Typhoeus has thrown off

His mountain, and is free once more;

Perchance once more a way to heaven810

Those giants, felled in Phlegra's vale,

Are building, and on Pelion's top

Are piling Thracian Ossa high.

The accustomed changes of the heavens

Are gone to come no more. No more

The rising and the setting sun

Shall we behold. Aurora bright,815

The herald of the dewy morn,

Whose wont it is to speed the sun

Upon his way, now stands amazed

To see her kingdom overturned.

She is not skilled to bathe his steeds,

A-weary with their rapid course,

Nor in the cooling sea to plunge820

Their reeking manes. The sun himself,

In setting, sees the place of dawn,

And bids the darkness fill the sky

Without the aid of night. No stars

Come out, nor do the heavens gleam

With any fires; no moon dispels825

The darkness' black and heavy pall.

Oh, that the night itself were here,

Whatever this portends! Our hearts

Are trembling, yea, are trembling sore,

And smitten with a boding fear

Lest all the world in ruins fall,830

And formless chaos as of yore

O'erwhelm us, gods and men; lest land,

And all-encircling sea, and stars

That wander in the spangled heavens,

Be buried in the general doom.

No more with gleaming, deathless torch,835

Shall Phoebus, lord of all the stars,

Lead the procession of the years

And mark the seasons; nevermore

Shall Luna, flashing back his rays,

Dispel the fears of night; and pass

In shorter course her brother's car.840

The throng of heavenly beings soon

Shall in one vast abyss be heaped.

That shining path of sacred stars,

Which cuts obliquely 'thwart the zones,845

The standard-bearer of the years,

Shall see the stars in ruin fall,

Itself in ruin falling. He,

The Ram, who, in the early spring,

Restores the sails to the warming breeze,

Shall headlong plunge into those waves850

Through which the trembling maid of Greece

He bore of old. And Taurus, who

Upon his horns like a garland wears

The Hyades, shall drag with him

The sacred Twins, and the stretched-out claws

Of the curving Crab. With heat inflamed,

Alcides' Lion once again855

Shall fall from heaven; the Virgin, too,

Back to the earth she left shall fall;

And the righteous Scales with their mighty weights,

Shall drag in their fall the Scorpion.

And he, old Chiron, skilled to hold860

Upon his bow of Thessaly

The feathered dart, shall lose his shafts

And break his bow. Cold Capricorn,

Who ushers sluggish winter in,

Shall fall from heaven, and break thy urn,

Whoe'er thou art, O Waterman.865

And with thee shall the Fish depart

Remotest of the stars of heaven;

And those monsters[48]huge which never yet

Were in the ocean plunged, shall soon

Within the all-engulfing sea

Be swallowed up. And that huge Snake,

Which like a winding river glides870

Between the Bears, shall fall from heaven;[49]

United with that serpent huge,

The Lesser Bear, congealed with cold,

And that slow driver of the Wain

No longer stable in its course,

Shall all in common ruin fall.

Have we, of all the race of men,875

Been worthy deemed to be o'erwhelmed

And buried 'neath a riven earth?

Is this our age the end of all?

Alas, in evil hour of fate

Were we begotten, wretched still,

Whether the sun is lost to us880

Or banished by our impious sins!

But away with vain complaints and fear:

Eager for life is he who would not die,

Though all the world in death around him lie.

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