OCTAVIA

Strophius:I, Strophius, had left my Phocian realm,And now, illustrious with th' Olympic palm,I home return. My hither course is bentTo 'gratulate my friend, by whose assault920Has Ilium fallen after years of war.[NoticingElectra'sdistress.]But why these flowing tears and looks of woe?And why these marks of fear? I recognizeIn thee the royal house. Electra! Why,When all is joyful here, dost thou lament?Electra:My father lies within the palace, slain925By Clytemnestra's hand. His son is doomedTo share his father's death. Aegisthus holdsThe throne which he through guilty love has gained.Strophius:Oh, happiness that never long endures!Electra:By all thy kindly memories of my sire,By his proud scepter, known to all the earth,930And by the fickle gods, I pray thee takeMy brother hence, and hide him from his foes.Strophius:Although dead Agamemnon bids me fear,I'll brave the danger and thy brother save.Good fortune asks for faith; adversityCompels us to be true.[TakesOrestesinto the chariot.]My lad, attend:Wear this wild-olive wreath upon thy brow,935The noble prize I won on Pisa's plain;And hold above thy head this leafy branch,The palm of victory, that it may beA shield and omen of success to thee.And do thou too, O Pylades, my son,940Who dost as comrade guide thy father's car,From my example faith in friendship learn.Do you, swift steeds, before the eyes of GreeceSpeed on in flight, and leave this faithless land.[Exeunt at great speed.]Electra[looking after them]: So is he gone. His car at reckless paceFast vanishes from sight. And now my foes,945With heart released from care, will I await,And willingly submit my head to death.Here comes the bloody conqueror of her lord,And bears upon her robes the stains of blood.Her hands still reek with gore, and in her faceShe bears the witness of her impious crime.950I'll hie me to the shrine; and, kneeling here,I'll join Cassandra in our common fear.[EnterClytemnestra,fresh from the murder of her husband.]Clytemnestra[toElectra]: Thou base, unfilial, and froward girl,Thy mother's foe, by what authorityDost thou, a virgin, seek the public gaze?Electra:Because I am a virgin have I left955The tainted home of vile adulterers.Clytemnestra:Who would believe thee chaste?Electra:I am thy child.Clytemnestra:Thou shouldst thy mother speak with gentler tongue.Electra:Shall I learn filial piety of thee?Clytemnestra:Thou hast a mannish soul, too puffed with pride;But tamed by suffering thou soon shalt learnTo play a woman's part.Electra:A woman's part!Yea, truly, 'tis to wield the battle-ax.960Clytemnestra:Thou fool, dost think thyself a match for us?Electra:"For us?" Hast thou another husband then?Speak thou as widow, for thy lord is dead.Clytemnestra:As queen I soon shall curb thy saucy tongue,And break thy pride. But meanwhile quickly tell,965Where is my son, where is thy brother hid?Electra:Far from Mycenae fled.Clytemnestra:Then bring him back.Electra:Bring back my father too.Clytemnestra:Where lurks the boy?Electra:In safety, where he fears no rival's power.This will content a loving mother.Clytemnestra:Yes,But not an angry one. Thou diest today.970Electra:Oh, let me perish by thy practiced hand!Behold, I leave the altar's sheltering side;Wilt plunge the knife into my tender throat?I yield me to thy will. Or dost preferAt one fell stroke to smite away my head?My neck awaits thy deadly aim. Let crime975By other crime be purged. Thy hands are stainedAnd reeking with thy murdered husband's blood:Come, cleanse them in the fresher stream of mine.[EnterAegisthus.]Clytemnestra:Thou partner of my perils and my throne,Aegisthus, come; this most unnatural childAssails her mother and her brother hides.980Aegisthus:Thou mad and foolish girl, restrain thy tongue,For such wild words offend thy mother's ears.Electra:Thou arch contriver of most impious crime,Wilt thou admonish me? Thou base-born wretch,Thou sister's son, and grandson of thy sire!985Clytemnestra:Aegisthus, how canst thou restrain thy handFrom smiting off her head? But hear my word:Let her give up her brother or her life.Aegisthus:Nay, rather, in some dark and stony cellLet her be straight confined; and there, perchance,By cruel tortures racked, will she give up990Whom now she hides. Resourceless, starving there,In dank and loathsome solitude immured,Widowed, ere wedded, exiled, scorned of all—Then will she, though too late, to fortune yield.Electra:Oh, grant me death.Aegisthus:If thou shouldst plead for life,I'd grant thee death. A foolish ruler he,995Who balances by death the score of sin.Electra:Can any punishment be worse than death?Aegisthus:Yes! Life for those who wish to die. Away,Ye slaves, seek out some dark and lonely cave,Far from Mycenae's bounds; and there in chains,Confine this bold, unmanageable maid,If haply prison walls may curb her will.1000[Electrais led away.]Clytemnestra[indicatingCassandra]: But she shall die, that rival of my couch,That captive bride. Go, drag her hence at once,That she may follow him she stole from me.Cassandra:Nay, drag me not; for I with joy will go,Outstripping your desire. How eagerlyI hasten to my Phrygians, to tell1005The news: the ocean covered with the wrecksOf Argive ships; Mycenae overthrown;The leader of a thousand leaders slain(And thus atoning for the woes of Troy)By woman's gift of wantonness and guile.Make haste! I falter not, but thank the gods,1010That I have lived to see my land avenged.Clytemnestra:O maddened wretch, thy death I wait to see.Cassandra:A fateful madness waits as well for thee.OCTAVIAOCTAVIAA FABULA PRAETEXTATHE ONLY EXTANT ROMAN HISTORICAL DRAMAINTRODUCTIONThe Roman historical drama had a place among the earliest products of Roman literature, and seems to have enjoyed a degree of popularity through all succeeding periods. That Roman literary genius did not find a much fuller expression through this channel was not due to a lack of national pride and patriotism, nor yet to a dearth of interesting and inspiring subjects in Roman history. The true reason is probably to be found in the fact that by the time national conditions were ripe for the development of any form of literature, the Greeks had already worked, and well worked, nearly all available fields, and had produced a mass of literature which dazzled the Roman mind when at last circumstances brought these two nations into closer contact.The natural and immediate result was an attempt on the part of the Romans to imitate these great models. And hence we have in drama, both in tragedy and comedy, a wholesale imitation of the Greek dramas, oftentimes nothing more than a translation of these, with only here and there an attempt to produce something of a strictly native character, entirely independent of the Greek influence.This imitative impulse was augmented by the fact that the Romans were following the line of least resistance, since it is always easier to imitate than to create. Furthermore, they had as yet developed no national pride of literature to hold them to their own lines of national development; they had no forms of their own so well established that the mere force of literary momentum would carry them steadily on toward a fuller development, in spite of the disturbing influences of the influx of other and better models. They had, indeed, developed a native Saturnian verse which, had it been allowed a free field, might have reached a high pitch of literary excellence. But it speedily gave way at the approach of the more elegant imported forms.The overwhelming influence of Greek tragedy upon the Roman dramatistscan be seen at a glance as we review the dramatic product of the Roman tragedians. We have titles and fragments of nine tragedies by Livius Andronicus, seven by Naevius, twenty-two by Ennius, thirteen by Pacuvius, forty-six by Accius, and many unassignable fragments from each of these which indicate numerous other plays of the same character. To these should be added scattering additions from nearly a score more of Roman writers during the next two hundred years after Accius. All the above-mentioned plays are on Greek subjects; and most of those whose fragments are sufficiently extensive to allow us to form an opinion of their character are either translations or close imitations of the Greeks, or are so influenced by these as to be decidedly Greek rather than Roman in character.And what of the genuine Roman dramatic product? Speaking for thefabula praetexta, or Roman historical drama, alone, the entire output, so far as our records go, is contained in the following list of authors and titles.From Naevius (265-204B.C.) we have theClastidium, written in celebration of the victory of Marcellus over Vidumarus, king of the Transpadane Gauls, whom Marcellus slew and stripped of his armor, thus gaining the rarespolia opima; this at Clastidium in 222B.C.The play was probably written for the especial occasion either of the triumph of Marcellus or of the celebration of his funeral.We have also from Naevius a play variously entitledLupusorRomulusorAlimonium Remi et Romuli, evidently one of those dramatic reproductions of scenes in the life of a god, enacted as a part of the ceremonies of his worship. These are comparable to similar dramatic representations among the Greeks in the worship of Dionysus.TheAmbraciaand theSabinaeof Ennius (239-169B.C.) are ordinarily classed asfabulae praetextae, although Lucian Müller classes the fragments of theAmbraciaamong theSaturaeof Ennius; while Vahlen puts theAmbraciaunder the headingComoediarum et ceterorum carminum reliquiae, and classifies the fragments of theSabinaeunderex incertis saturarum libris. TheAmbraciais evidently called after the city of that name in Epirus, celebrated for the long and remarkable siege which it sustained against the Romans under M. Fulvius Nobilior. That general finally captured the city in 189B.C.If the piece is to be considered as a play, it was, like theClastidium, written in honor of a Roman general, and acted on the occasion either of his triumph or of his funeral.We have four short fragments from thePaulusof Pacuvius (220-130B.C.), written in celebration of the exploits of L. Aemilius Paulus who conquered Perseus, king of Macedonia, in the battle of Pydna, 168B.C.The fragments of the plays already mentioned are too brief to afford any adequate idea of the character or content of the plays. But in theBrutusof Accius (b. 170B.C.), which centers around the expulsion of the Tarquins and the establishment of the Republic, we have a larger glimpse into the play through two most interesting fragments consisting of twelve iambic trimeters and ten trochaic tetrameters, respectively. In the first, King Tarquin relates to his seer an ill-ominous dream which he has had; the second is the seer's interpretation of this dream, pointing to Tarquin's dethronement by Brutus. Other short fragments give glimpses of the outrage of Lucretia by Sextus at Collatia, and the scene in the forum where Brutus takes his oath of office as first consul. This play, unlike its predecessors, was not written at the time of the events which it portrays, but may still be classed with them, so far as its object is concerned, since it is generally thought to have been written in honor of D. Junius Brutus who was consul in 138B.C., and with whom the poet enjoyed an intimate friendship.Anotherpraetextaof Accius is preserved, theDecius, of which eleven short fragments remain. This play celebrates the victory of Quintus Fabius Maximus and P. Decius Mus over the Samnites and Gauls at Sentinum in 295B.C.The climax of the play would be the self-immolation of Decius after the example of his father in the Latin war of 340B.C.In addition to these plays of the Roman dramatists of the Republic, we have knowledge of a few which date from later times. There was a historical drama entitledIter, by L. Cornelius Balbus, who dramatized the incidents of a journey which he made to Pompey's camp at Dyrrachium at the opening of civil war in 49B.C.Balbus was under commission from Caesar to treat with the consul, L. Cornelius Lentulus, and other optimates who had fled from Rome, concerning their return to the city. The journey was a complete fiasco, so far as results were concerned; but the vanity of Balbus was so flattered by his (to him) important mission that he must needs dramatize his experiences and present the play under his own direction in his native city of Gades.We have mention also of anAeneasby Pomponius Secundus, and of twopraetextaeby Curiatius Maternus, entitledDomitiusandCato.These eleven historical plays are, as we have seen, for the most part, plays of occasion, and would be at best of but temporary interest, born of the special circumstances which inspired them. They are in no way comparable with such historical dramas on Roman subjects as Shakespeare'sJulius CaesarorCoriolanus, whose interest is for all times.We have still a twelfth play of this class, which enjoys the unique distinction of being the only Roman historical drama which has come down to us—theOctavia. Its authorship is unknown, although tradition gives it a place among the tragedies of Seneca, the philosopher. The general opinion of modern critics, however, is against this tradition, chiefly because one passage in the play, in the form of a prophecy, too circumstantially describes the death of Nero, which occurred three years after the death of Seneca. It is generally agreed that the play must have been written soon after the death of Nero, and by some one, possibly Maternus, who had been an eye-witness of the events, and who had been inspired by his sympathies for the unfortunate Octavia to write this story of her sufferings.OCTAVIADRAMATIS PERSONAEOctaviaStepsister and wife of Nero.Nurseof Octavia.PoppaeaMistress and afterward wife of Nero.Ghost of AgrippinaMother of Nero, slain by him.NeroEmperor of Rome.SenecaFormer tutor of Nero, and later one of his chief counselors.Prefect of Roman Soldiers.Messenger.Chorus of RomansSympathetic with Octavia.ChorusAttached to the interests of the court.The sceneis laid throughout in different apartments of the palace of Nero, and is concerned with the events of the year 62A.D.ACT IOctavia:Now doth the flushing dawn from heaven driveThe wandering stars; the sun mounts into sightWith radiant beams, and brings the world once moreThe light of day. Up, then, my heavy soul,With grievous cares o'erburdened, and resume5Thy woe; out-wail the sea-bred Halcyons,And those sad birds of old Pandion's house;For this thy lot is heavier far than theirs.O mother, constant source of tears to me,10Hear now thy woeful daughter's sad complaints,If aught of sense remains among the shades.Oh, that the grizzly Clotho long ago,With her own hand had clipt my thread of life!15Through blinding tears I saw thy bleeding wounds,Thy features sprinkled with defiling blood.Oh, light of day, abhorrent to my eyes!From that dread hour I hate the day's pure light20More than the night's dark gloom; for daily nowMust I endure a cruel stepdame's rule,Must daily bear her hateful looks and words.She, she the baleful fury fiend it wasWho at my marriage rites bore torches lit25With hellish fires; 'twas she who wrought thy death,O wretched father, whom but yesterdayThe whole world owned as lord on land and sea;To whom the Britain bowed, though ne'er beforeHad he a Roman master known or owned.30Alas, my father, by thy wife's fell plotsThou liest low, and I and all thy houseLike captives groan beneath the tyrant's sway.[Exit to her chamber.]Nurse[entering]: Who stands in wonder, smitten by the gloss35And splendor of a princely court, amazedAt sight of easy-won prosperity,Let him behold how, at the stroke of fate,The house of Claudius is overthrown,To whose control the world was subjugate,40Whose rule an ocean, long to sway unknown,Obeyed, and bore our ships with subject will.Lo, he, who first the savage Britains curbed,And filled an unknown ocean with his fleet,And passed in safety 'mid barbaric tribes—By his own wife's impiety was slain.45And she is destined by her son to fall,Whose hapless brother lies already slainBy poison's hand, whose sister-wife aloneIs left to mourn. Nor may she hide her grief,By bitter wrath impelled to speak. She shunsHer cruel lord's society, and, fired50With equal hate, with mutual[55]loathing burns.Our pious faithfulness in vain consolesHer grieving heart; her cruel woes rejectOur aid; the noble passion of her soulWill not be ruled, but grows on ills renewed.Alas, my fears forebode some desperate deed,55Which may the gods forbid!Octavia[heard speaking from within her chamber]: O fate of mine, that can no equal know!Thy woes, Electra, were no match for these;For thou couldst soothe with tears the grief thou hadst60For thy dear father's fall; thou couldst avengeThe murder by thy brother's ready hand,Who by thy piety was saved from death,And whom thy faith concealed. But me base fearForbids to weep my parents reft away65By cruel fate; forbids to weep the deathOf him, my brother, who my sole hope was,My fleeting comfort of so many woes.And now, surviving but to suffer still,I live, the shadow of a noble name.70Nurse:Behold, the voice of my sad foster-childFalls on my list'ning ears. Slow steps of age,Why haste ye not within her chamber there?[Starts to enter the chamber, but is met byOctaviacoming forth.]Octavia:Within thy bosom let me weep, dear nurse,Thou ever trusty witness of my grief.75Nurse:What day shall free thee from thy woes, poor child?Octavia:The day that sends me to the Stygian shades.Nurse:May heaven keep such dark omens far away!80Octavia:'Tis not thy prayers, but fate that shapes my life.Nurse:But God will bring thy life to better days.Do thou but be appeased, and win thy lordWith mild obedience.85Octavia:I'll sooner tameThe savage lion's heart, the tiger's rage,Than curb that brutal tyrant's cruel soul.He hates all sons of noble blood, and godsAnd men he sets at naught; nor can he bear90That high estate to which along the pathsOf shameful crime his impious mother led;For though it shames him now, ungrateful one,To hold the scepter which his mother gave;And though by death he has requited her:95Still will the glory of the empire wonBelong to her for centuries to come.Nurse:Restrain these words that voice thy raging heart,And check thy tongue's too rash and thoughtless speech.Octavia:Though I should bear what may be borne, my woes,100Save by a cruel death, could not be ended.For, since my mother was by murder slain,And my father taken off by crime most foul,Robbed of my brother, overwhelmed with woe,Oppressed with sadness, by my husband scorned,Degraded to the level of my slave,105I find this life no more endurable.My heart doth tremble, not with fear of death,But slander base, employed to work my death.Far from my name and fate be that foul blot.For death itself—Oh, 'twould be sweet to die;For 'tis a punishment far worse than death,To live in contact with the man I loathe,To see the tyrant's face all passion puffed,110And fierce with rage, to kiss my deadliest foe.That I should fear his nod, obey his will,My grief, resentful, will not suffer me,Since by his hand my brother was destroyed,Whose kingdom he usurps, and boasts himselfThe author of that shameful deed. How oft115Before my eyes does that sad image come,My brother's ghost, when I have gone to rest,And sleep has closed my eyelids faint with tears!Now in his weakling hand he brandishesThe smoking torch, and violently assailsHis brother to his face; now, trembling sore,He flees for refuge to my sheltering arms.120His foe pursues, and, as his victim clingsConvulsively to me, he thrusts his swordWith murderous intent through both our sides.Then, all a-tremble, do I start awake,And in my waking sense renew my fear.Add to these cares a rival, arrogant,125Who queens it in the spoils of this our house;At whose behest the mother was enticedTo that fell ship which should have carried herTo Orcus' depths; but when o'er ocean's wavesShe triumphed, he, than ocean's waves more harshAnd pitiless, despatched her with the sword.Amid such deeds, what hopes of peace have I?130O'erblown with hate, triumphant, doth my rivalWithin my very chamber's hold defy me;With deadly malice doth she blaze against me,And as the price of her adulterous sweets,Doth she demand that he, my husband, giveMy life, his lawful wife's, in sacrifice.Oh, rise thou, father, from the gloomy shades,And help thy daughter who invokes thine aid;135Or else cleave wide the earth to Stygian depths,And let me plunge at last to shelter there.Nurse:In vain dost thou invoke thy father's soul,Poor child, in vain; for there among the shadesHe little thinks upon his offspring here;Who, when in life, unto his own true sonPreferred the offspring of another's blood,140And to himself in most incestuous bondsAnd rites unhallowed joined his brother's child.From this foul source has flowed a stream of crime:Of murder, treachery, the lust of power,The thirst for blood. Thy promised husband fell,A victim slain to grace that wedding feast,145Lest, joined with thee, he should too mighty grow.Oh, monstrous deed! Silanus, charged with crime,Was slain to make a bridal offering,And stained the household gods with guiltless blood.And then this alien comes, Oh, woe is me,150And by his mother's wiles usurps the house,Made son-in-law and son to the emperor,A youth of temper most unnatural,To impious crime inclined, whose passion's flameHis mother fanned, and forced thee at the lastIn hated wedlock into his embrace.Emboldened by this notable success,155She dared to dream of wider sovereignty.What tongue can tell the changing forms of crime,Her impious hopes, her cozening treacheries,Who seeks the throne along the ways of sin?Then Piety with trembling haste withdrew,160And Fury through the empty palace hallsWith baleful tread resounded, and defiledThe sacred images with Stygian brands.All holy laws of nature and of heavenIn mad abandon did she set at naught.She mingled deadly poison for her lord,165And she herself by the impious mandate fellOf her own son. Thou too dost lifeless lie,Poor youth, forever to be mourned by us,Ill-starred Britannicus, so late, in life,The brightest star of this our firmament,The prop and stay of our imperial house;But now, Oh, woe is me, a heap of dust,Of unsubstantial dust, a flitting shade.170Nay, even thy stepmother's cruel cheeksWere wet with tears, when on the funeral pyreShe placed thy form and saw the flames consumeThy limbs and face fair as the wingéd god's.Octavia:Me, too, he must destroy—or fall by me.Nurse:But nature has not given thee strength to slay.175Octavia:Yet anguish, anger, pain, distress of soul,The ecstasy of grief will give me strength.Nurse:Nay, by compliance, rather, win thy lord.Octavia:That thus he may restore my brother slain?Nurse:That thou thyself mayst go unscathed of death;That thou by thine own offspring mayst restoreThy father's falling house.180Octavia:This princely houseExpects an heir, 'tis true; but not from me,For I am doomed to meet my brother's fate.Nurse:Console thy heart with this, that thou art dearUnto the populace, who love thee well.Octavia:That thought doth soothe, but cannot cure my grief.Nurse:Their power availeth much.185Octavia:The prince's more.Nurse:He will regard his wife.Octavia:My foe forbids.Nurse:But she is scorned by all.Octavia:Yet loved by him.Nurse:She is not yet his wife.Octavia:But soon will be,And mother of his child, his kingdom's heir.Nurse:The fire of youthful passion glows at firstWith heat impetuous; but soon abates,190And vanishes like flickering tongues of flame.Unhallowed love cannot for long endure;But pure and lasting is the love inspiredBy chaste and wifely faith. She who has daredTo violate thy bed, and hold so longThy husband's heart in thrall, herself a slave,Already trembles lest his fickle love195Shall thrust her forth and set a rival there.Subdued and humble, even now she showsHow deep and real her fear; for her, indeed,Shall wingéd Cupid, false and fickle god,Abandon and betray. Though face and formBe passing fair, though beauty vaunt herself,And boast her power, still are her triumphs brief,200Her joys a passing dream.Nay, Juno's self,Though queen of heaven, endured such grief as thine,When he, her lord, and father of the gods,Stole from her side to seek in mortal formsThe love of mortal maids. Now, in his need,205He dons the snowy plumage of a swan;Now hornéd seems, like a Sidonian bull;And now a glorious, golden shower he falls,And rests within the arms of Danaë.Nor yet is Juno's sum of woe complete:The sons of Leda glitter in the skyIn starry splendor; Bacchus proudly standsBeside his father on Olympus' height;Divine Alcides hath to Hebe's charms210Attained, and fears stern Juno's wrath no more.Her very son-in-law hath he becomeWhom once she hated most. Yet in her heartDeep down she pressed her grief, and wisely won,By mild compliance to his wayward will,Her husband's love again. And now the queen,215Secure at last from rivalry, holds swayAlone, within the Thunderer's heart. No more,By mortal beauty smitten, does he leaveHis royal chambers in the vaulted sky.Thou, too, on earth, another Juno art,220The wife and sister of our mighty lord.Then be thou wise as she, make show of love,And hide thy crushing sorrows with a smile.Octavia:The savage seas shall sooner mate with stars,And fire with water, heav'n with gloomy hell,Glad light with shades, and day with dewy night,Than shall my soul in amity consort225With his black heart, most foul and impious:Too mindful I of my poor brother's ghost.And Oh, that he who guides the heavenly worlds,Who shakes the realms of earth with deadly bolts,And with his dreadful thunders awes our minds,Would whelm in fiery death this murderous prince.230Strange portents have we seen: the comet dire,Shining with baleful light, his glowing trainFar gleaming in the distant northern sky,Where slow Boötes, numb with arctic frosts,Directs his ponderous wagon's endless rounds.The very air is tainted by the breath235Of this destructive prince; and for his sakeThe stars, resentful, threaten to destroyThe nations which so dire a tyrant rules.Not such a pest was impious Typhon huge,Whom earth, in wrath and scorn of heaven, produced.This scourge is more destructive far than he.240He is the bitter foe of gods and men,Who drives the heavenly beings from their shrines,And from their native land the citizens;Who from his brother took the breath of life,And drained his mother's blood.And does he live,This guilty wretch, and draw his tainted breath?O Jove, thou high-exalted father, why245Dost thou so oft with thine imperial handThy darts invincible at random hurl?Why from his guilty head dost thou withholdThy hand of vengeance? Oh, that he might payFor all his crimes the fitting penalty,This son of deified Domitius,This Nero, heartless tyrant of the world,250Which he beneath the yoke of bondage holds,This moral blot upon a noble name!Nurse:Unworthy he to be thy mate, I know;But, dearest child, to fate and fortune yield,Lest thou excite thy savage husband's wrath.Perchance some god will come to right thy wrongs,255And on thy life some happier day will dawn.Octavia:That may not be. Long since, our ill-starred houseHas groaned beneath the heavy wrath of heaven.That wrath at first my hapless mother felt,Whom Venus cursed with lust insatiate;For she, with heedless, impious passion fired,260Unmindful of her absent lord, of us,Her guiltless children, and the law's restraints,In open day another husband wed.To that fell couch avenging Fury cameWith streaming locks and serpents intertwined,And quenched those stolen wedding fires in blood.For with destructive rage, on murder bent,265She fired the prince's heart; and at his word,Ah, woe is me, my ill-starred mother fell,And, dying, doomed me to perpetual grief.For after her in quick succession cameHer husband and her son; and this our house,Already falling, was to ruin plunged.Nurse:Forbear with pious tears to renew thy grief,270And do not so disturb thy father's shade,Who for his rage has bitterly atoned.Chorus[sympathetic withOctavia]: False prove the rumor that of lateTo our ears has come! May its vaunted threatsFall fruitless out and of no avail!275May no new wife invade the bedOf our royal prince; may Octavia, bornOf the Claudian race, maintain her rightAnd bear us a son, the pledge of peace,In which the joyful world shall rest,280And Rome preserve her glorious name.Most mighty Juno holds the lotBy fate assigned—her brother's mate;But this our Juno, sister, wifeOf our august prince, why is she driven285From her father's court? Of what availHer faith, her father deified,Her love and spotless chastity?We, too, of our former master's fameHave been unmindful, and his childAt the hest of cringing[56]fear betrayed.290Not so of old: then Rome could boastOf manly virtue, martial blood.There lived a race of heroes thenWho curbed the power of haughty kingsAnd drove them forth from Rome; and thee,O maiden, slain by thy father's hand,295Lest thou shouldst in slavery's bonds be held,And lest foul lust its victorious willShould work on thee, did well avenge.Thee, too, a bloody war avenged,O chaste Lucretia; for thou,300By the lust of an impious tyrant stained,With wretched hand didst seek to cleanseThose stains by thy innocent blood.Then Tullia with her guilty lord,Base Tarquin, dared an impious deed,Whose penalty they paid; for she305Over the limbs of her murdered sire,A heartless child, drove cruel wheels,And left his corpse unburied there.Such deeds of dire impietyOur age has known, our eyes have seen,When the prince on the mighty Tyrrhene deep310In a fatal bark his mother sent,By guile ensnared.The sailors at his bidding hasteTo leave the peaceful harbor's arms;And soon the rougher waves resound315Beneath their oars, and far awayUpon the deep the vessel glides;When suddenly the reeling barkWith loosened beams yawns open wide,And drinks the briny sea.A mighty shout to heaven goes,320With women's lamentations filled,And death stalks dire before the eyesOf all. Each seeks to save himself.Some naked cling upon the planksOf the broken ship and fight the floods,325While others swimming seek the shore.But most, alas! a watery deathBy fate awaits. Then did the queenIn mad despair her garments rend;Her comely locks she tore, and tearsFell streaming down her grieving cheeks.330At last, with hope of safety gone,With wrath inflamed, by woes o'ercome,"Dost thou, O son, make this return,"She cried, "for that great boon I gave?Such death I merit, I confess,335Who bore such monstrous child as thou,Who gave to thee the light of day,And in my madness raised thee highTo Caesar's name and Caesar's throne.Oh, rise from deepest Acheron,My murdered husband, feast thine eyes340Upon my righteous punishment;For I brought death to thee, poor soul,And to thy son. See, see, I come,Deep down to meet thy grieving shade;And there, as I have merited,Shall I unburied lie, o'erwhelmed345By the raging sea." E'en as she spoke,The lapping waves broke o'er her lips,And deep she plunged below. AnonShe rises from the briny depths,And, stung by fear of death, she strivesWith frenzied hands to conquer fate;But, spent with fruitless toil at last,350She yields and waits the end. But lo,In hearts which in trembling silence watch,Faith triumphs over deadly fear,And to their mistress, spent and wanWith fruitless buffetings, they dareTo lend their aid with cheering words355And helping hands.But what availsTo escape the grasp of the savage sea?By the sword of the son is she doomed to die,Whose monstrous deed posterityWill scarce believe. With rage and grief360Inflamed, he raves that still she lives,His mother, snatched from the wild sea's jaws,And doubles crime on impious crime.Bent on his wretched mother's death,He brooks no tarrying of fate.365His willing creatures work his will,And in the hapless woman's breastThe fatal sword is plunged; but sheTo that fell minister of deathAppeals with dying tongue: "Nay here,Here rather strike the murderous blow,Here sheathe thy sword, deep in the womb370Which such a monster bore."So spake the dying queen, her wordsAnd groans commingling. So at lastThrough gaping wounds her spirit fled375In grief and agony.

Strophius:I, Strophius, had left my Phocian realm,

And now, illustrious with th' Olympic palm,

I home return. My hither course is bent

To 'gratulate my friend, by whose assault920

Has Ilium fallen after years of war.

[NoticingElectra'sdistress.]

But why these flowing tears and looks of woe?

And why these marks of fear? I recognize

In thee the royal house. Electra! Why,

When all is joyful here, dost thou lament?

Electra:My father lies within the palace, slain925By Clytemnestra's hand. His son is doomedTo share his father's death. Aegisthus holdsThe throne which he through guilty love has gained.

Electra:My father lies within the palace, slain925

By Clytemnestra's hand. His son is doomed

To share his father's death. Aegisthus holds

The throne which he through guilty love has gained.

Strophius:Oh, happiness that never long endures!

Electra:By all thy kindly memories of my sire,By his proud scepter, known to all the earth,930And by the fickle gods, I pray thee takeMy brother hence, and hide him from his foes.

Electra:By all thy kindly memories of my sire,

By his proud scepter, known to all the earth,930

And by the fickle gods, I pray thee take

My brother hence, and hide him from his foes.

Strophius:Although dead Agamemnon bids me fear,I'll brave the danger and thy brother save.Good fortune asks for faith; adversityCompels us to be true.[TakesOrestesinto the chariot.]My lad, attend:Wear this wild-olive wreath upon thy brow,935The noble prize I won on Pisa's plain;And hold above thy head this leafy branch,The palm of victory, that it may beA shield and omen of success to thee.And do thou too, O Pylades, my son,940Who dost as comrade guide thy father's car,From my example faith in friendship learn.Do you, swift steeds, before the eyes of GreeceSpeed on in flight, and leave this faithless land.

Strophius:Although dead Agamemnon bids me fear,

I'll brave the danger and thy brother save.

Good fortune asks for faith; adversity

Compels us to be true.

[TakesOrestesinto the chariot.]

My lad, attend:

Wear this wild-olive wreath upon thy brow,935

The noble prize I won on Pisa's plain;

And hold above thy head this leafy branch,

The palm of victory, that it may be

A shield and omen of success to thee.

And do thou too, O Pylades, my son,940

Who dost as comrade guide thy father's car,

From my example faith in friendship learn.

Do you, swift steeds, before the eyes of Greece

Speed on in flight, and leave this faithless land.

[Exeunt at great speed.]

Electra[looking after them]: So is he gone. His car at reckless paceFast vanishes from sight. And now my foes,945With heart released from care, will I await,And willingly submit my head to death.Here comes the bloody conqueror of her lord,And bears upon her robes the stains of blood.Her hands still reek with gore, and in her faceShe bears the witness of her impious crime.950I'll hie me to the shrine; and, kneeling here,I'll join Cassandra in our common fear.

Electra[looking after them]: So is he gone. His car at reckless pace

Fast vanishes from sight. And now my foes,945

With heart released from care, will I await,

And willingly submit my head to death.

Here comes the bloody conqueror of her lord,

And bears upon her robes the stains of blood.

Her hands still reek with gore, and in her face

She bears the witness of her impious crime.950

I'll hie me to the shrine; and, kneeling here,

I'll join Cassandra in our common fear.

[EnterClytemnestra,fresh from the murder of her husband.]

Clytemnestra[toElectra]: Thou base, unfilial, and froward girl,Thy mother's foe, by what authorityDost thou, a virgin, seek the public gaze?Electra:Because I am a virgin have I left955The tainted home of vile adulterers.Clytemnestra:Who would believe thee chaste?Electra:I am thy child.Clytemnestra:Thou shouldst thy mother speak with gentler tongue.Electra:Shall I learn filial piety of thee?Clytemnestra:Thou hast a mannish soul, too puffed with pride;But tamed by suffering thou soon shalt learnTo play a woman's part.Electra:A woman's part!Yea, truly, 'tis to wield the battle-ax.960Clytemnestra:Thou fool, dost think thyself a match for us?Electra:"For us?" Hast thou another husband then?Speak thou as widow, for thy lord is dead.Clytemnestra:As queen I soon shall curb thy saucy tongue,And break thy pride. But meanwhile quickly tell,965Where is my son, where is thy brother hid?Electra:Far from Mycenae fled.Clytemnestra:Then bring him back.Electra:Bring back my father too.Clytemnestra:Where lurks the boy?Electra:In safety, where he fears no rival's power.This will content a loving mother.Clytemnestra:Yes,But not an angry one. Thou diest today.970Electra:Oh, let me perish by thy practiced hand!Behold, I leave the altar's sheltering side;Wilt plunge the knife into my tender throat?I yield me to thy will. Or dost preferAt one fell stroke to smite away my head?My neck awaits thy deadly aim. Let crime975By other crime be purged. Thy hands are stainedAnd reeking with thy murdered husband's blood:Come, cleanse them in the fresher stream of mine.

Clytemnestra[toElectra]: Thou base, unfilial, and froward girl,Thy mother's foe, by what authorityDost thou, a virgin, seek the public gaze?

Clytemnestra[toElectra]: Thou base, unfilial, and froward girl,

Thy mother's foe, by what authority

Dost thou, a virgin, seek the public gaze?

Electra:Because I am a virgin have I left955The tainted home of vile adulterers.

Electra:Because I am a virgin have I left955

The tainted home of vile adulterers.

Clytemnestra:Who would believe thee chaste?

Electra:I am thy child.

Clytemnestra:Thou shouldst thy mother speak with gentler tongue.

Electra:Shall I learn filial piety of thee?

Clytemnestra:Thou hast a mannish soul, too puffed with pride;But tamed by suffering thou soon shalt learnTo play a woman's part.

Clytemnestra:Thou hast a mannish soul, too puffed with pride;

But tamed by suffering thou soon shalt learn

To play a woman's part.

Electra:A woman's part!Yea, truly, 'tis to wield the battle-ax.960

Electra:A woman's part!

Yea, truly, 'tis to wield the battle-ax.960

Clytemnestra:Thou fool, dost think thyself a match for us?

Electra:"For us?" Hast thou another husband then?Speak thou as widow, for thy lord is dead.

Electra:"For us?" Hast thou another husband then?

Speak thou as widow, for thy lord is dead.

Clytemnestra:As queen I soon shall curb thy saucy tongue,And break thy pride. But meanwhile quickly tell,965Where is my son, where is thy brother hid?

Clytemnestra:As queen I soon shall curb thy saucy tongue,

And break thy pride. But meanwhile quickly tell,965

Where is my son, where is thy brother hid?

Electra:Far from Mycenae fled.

Clytemnestra:Then bring him back.

Electra:Bring back my father too.

Clytemnestra:Where lurks the boy?

Electra:In safety, where he fears no rival's power.This will content a loving mother.

Electra:In safety, where he fears no rival's power.

This will content a loving mother.

Clytemnestra:Yes,But not an angry one. Thou diest today.970

Clytemnestra:Yes,

But not an angry one. Thou diest today.970

Electra:Oh, let me perish by thy practiced hand!Behold, I leave the altar's sheltering side;Wilt plunge the knife into my tender throat?I yield me to thy will. Or dost preferAt one fell stroke to smite away my head?My neck awaits thy deadly aim. Let crime975By other crime be purged. Thy hands are stainedAnd reeking with thy murdered husband's blood:Come, cleanse them in the fresher stream of mine.

Electra:Oh, let me perish by thy practiced hand!

Behold, I leave the altar's sheltering side;

Wilt plunge the knife into my tender throat?

I yield me to thy will. Or dost prefer

At one fell stroke to smite away my head?

My neck awaits thy deadly aim. Let crime975

By other crime be purged. Thy hands are stained

And reeking with thy murdered husband's blood:

Come, cleanse them in the fresher stream of mine.

[EnterAegisthus.]

Clytemnestra:Thou partner of my perils and my throne,Aegisthus, come; this most unnatural childAssails her mother and her brother hides.980Aegisthus:Thou mad and foolish girl, restrain thy tongue,For such wild words offend thy mother's ears.Electra:Thou arch contriver of most impious crime,Wilt thou admonish me? Thou base-born wretch,Thou sister's son, and grandson of thy sire!985Clytemnestra:Aegisthus, how canst thou restrain thy handFrom smiting off her head? But hear my word:Let her give up her brother or her life.Aegisthus:Nay, rather, in some dark and stony cellLet her be straight confined; and there, perchance,By cruel tortures racked, will she give up990Whom now she hides. Resourceless, starving there,In dank and loathsome solitude immured,Widowed, ere wedded, exiled, scorned of all—Then will she, though too late, to fortune yield.Electra:Oh, grant me death.Aegisthus:If thou shouldst plead for life,I'd grant thee death. A foolish ruler he,995Who balances by death the score of sin.Electra:Can any punishment be worse than death?Aegisthus:Yes! Life for those who wish to die. Away,Ye slaves, seek out some dark and lonely cave,Far from Mycenae's bounds; and there in chains,Confine this bold, unmanageable maid,If haply prison walls may curb her will.1000

Clytemnestra:Thou partner of my perils and my throne,Aegisthus, come; this most unnatural childAssails her mother and her brother hides.980

Clytemnestra:Thou partner of my perils and my throne,

Aegisthus, come; this most unnatural child

Assails her mother and her brother hides.980

Aegisthus:Thou mad and foolish girl, restrain thy tongue,For such wild words offend thy mother's ears.

Aegisthus:Thou mad and foolish girl, restrain thy tongue,

For such wild words offend thy mother's ears.

Electra:Thou arch contriver of most impious crime,Wilt thou admonish me? Thou base-born wretch,Thou sister's son, and grandson of thy sire!985

Electra:Thou arch contriver of most impious crime,

Wilt thou admonish me? Thou base-born wretch,

Thou sister's son, and grandson of thy sire!985

Clytemnestra:Aegisthus, how canst thou restrain thy handFrom smiting off her head? But hear my word:Let her give up her brother or her life.

Clytemnestra:Aegisthus, how canst thou restrain thy hand

From smiting off her head? But hear my word:

Let her give up her brother or her life.

Aegisthus:Nay, rather, in some dark and stony cellLet her be straight confined; and there, perchance,By cruel tortures racked, will she give up990Whom now she hides. Resourceless, starving there,In dank and loathsome solitude immured,Widowed, ere wedded, exiled, scorned of all—Then will she, though too late, to fortune yield.

Aegisthus:Nay, rather, in some dark and stony cell

Let her be straight confined; and there, perchance,

By cruel tortures racked, will she give up990

Whom now she hides. Resourceless, starving there,

In dank and loathsome solitude immured,

Widowed, ere wedded, exiled, scorned of all—

Then will she, though too late, to fortune yield.

Electra:Oh, grant me death.

Aegisthus:If thou shouldst plead for life,I'd grant thee death. A foolish ruler he,995Who balances by death the score of sin.

Aegisthus:If thou shouldst plead for life,

I'd grant thee death. A foolish ruler he,995

Who balances by death the score of sin.

Electra:Can any punishment be worse than death?

Aegisthus:Yes! Life for those who wish to die. Away,Ye slaves, seek out some dark and lonely cave,Far from Mycenae's bounds; and there in chains,Confine this bold, unmanageable maid,If haply prison walls may curb her will.1000

Aegisthus:Yes! Life for those who wish to die. Away,

Ye slaves, seek out some dark and lonely cave,

Far from Mycenae's bounds; and there in chains,

Confine this bold, unmanageable maid,

If haply prison walls may curb her will.1000

[Electrais led away.]

Clytemnestra[indicatingCassandra]: But she shall die, that rival of my couch,That captive bride. Go, drag her hence at once,That she may follow him she stole from me.Cassandra:Nay, drag me not; for I with joy will go,Outstripping your desire. How eagerlyI hasten to my Phrygians, to tell1005The news: the ocean covered with the wrecksOf Argive ships; Mycenae overthrown;The leader of a thousand leaders slain(And thus atoning for the woes of Troy)By woman's gift of wantonness and guile.Make haste! I falter not, but thank the gods,1010That I have lived to see my land avenged.Clytemnestra:O maddened wretch, thy death I wait to see.Cassandra:A fateful madness waits as well for thee.

Clytemnestra[indicatingCassandra]: But she shall die, that rival of my couch,That captive bride. Go, drag her hence at once,That she may follow him she stole from me.

Clytemnestra[indicatingCassandra]: But she shall die, that rival of my couch,

That captive bride. Go, drag her hence at once,

That she may follow him she stole from me.

Cassandra:Nay, drag me not; for I with joy will go,Outstripping your desire. How eagerlyI hasten to my Phrygians, to tell1005The news: the ocean covered with the wrecksOf Argive ships; Mycenae overthrown;The leader of a thousand leaders slain(And thus atoning for the woes of Troy)By woman's gift of wantonness and guile.Make haste! I falter not, but thank the gods,1010That I have lived to see my land avenged.

Cassandra:Nay, drag me not; for I with joy will go,

Outstripping your desire. How eagerly

I hasten to my Phrygians, to tell1005

The news: the ocean covered with the wrecks

Of Argive ships; Mycenae overthrown;

The leader of a thousand leaders slain

(And thus atoning for the woes of Troy)

By woman's gift of wantonness and guile.

Make haste! I falter not, but thank the gods,1010

That I have lived to see my land avenged.

Clytemnestra:O maddened wretch, thy death I wait to see.

Cassandra:A fateful madness waits as well for thee.

A FABULA PRAETEXTA

THE ONLY EXTANT ROMAN HISTORICAL DRAMA

The Roman historical drama had a place among the earliest products of Roman literature, and seems to have enjoyed a degree of popularity through all succeeding periods. That Roman literary genius did not find a much fuller expression through this channel was not due to a lack of national pride and patriotism, nor yet to a dearth of interesting and inspiring subjects in Roman history. The true reason is probably to be found in the fact that by the time national conditions were ripe for the development of any form of literature, the Greeks had already worked, and well worked, nearly all available fields, and had produced a mass of literature which dazzled the Roman mind when at last circumstances brought these two nations into closer contact.

The natural and immediate result was an attempt on the part of the Romans to imitate these great models. And hence we have in drama, both in tragedy and comedy, a wholesale imitation of the Greek dramas, oftentimes nothing more than a translation of these, with only here and there an attempt to produce something of a strictly native character, entirely independent of the Greek influence.

This imitative impulse was augmented by the fact that the Romans were following the line of least resistance, since it is always easier to imitate than to create. Furthermore, they had as yet developed no national pride of literature to hold them to their own lines of national development; they had no forms of their own so well established that the mere force of literary momentum would carry them steadily on toward a fuller development, in spite of the disturbing influences of the influx of other and better models. They had, indeed, developed a native Saturnian verse which, had it been allowed a free field, might have reached a high pitch of literary excellence. But it speedily gave way at the approach of the more elegant imported forms.

The overwhelming influence of Greek tragedy upon the Roman dramatistscan be seen at a glance as we review the dramatic product of the Roman tragedians. We have titles and fragments of nine tragedies by Livius Andronicus, seven by Naevius, twenty-two by Ennius, thirteen by Pacuvius, forty-six by Accius, and many unassignable fragments from each of these which indicate numerous other plays of the same character. To these should be added scattering additions from nearly a score more of Roman writers during the next two hundred years after Accius. All the above-mentioned plays are on Greek subjects; and most of those whose fragments are sufficiently extensive to allow us to form an opinion of their character are either translations or close imitations of the Greeks, or are so influenced by these as to be decidedly Greek rather than Roman in character.

And what of the genuine Roman dramatic product? Speaking for thefabula praetexta, or Roman historical drama, alone, the entire output, so far as our records go, is contained in the following list of authors and titles.

From Naevius (265-204B.C.) we have theClastidium, written in celebration of the victory of Marcellus over Vidumarus, king of the Transpadane Gauls, whom Marcellus slew and stripped of his armor, thus gaining the rarespolia opima; this at Clastidium in 222B.C.The play was probably written for the especial occasion either of the triumph of Marcellus or of the celebration of his funeral.

We have also from Naevius a play variously entitledLupusorRomulusorAlimonium Remi et Romuli, evidently one of those dramatic reproductions of scenes in the life of a god, enacted as a part of the ceremonies of his worship. These are comparable to similar dramatic representations among the Greeks in the worship of Dionysus.

TheAmbraciaand theSabinaeof Ennius (239-169B.C.) are ordinarily classed asfabulae praetextae, although Lucian Müller classes the fragments of theAmbraciaamong theSaturaeof Ennius; while Vahlen puts theAmbraciaunder the headingComoediarum et ceterorum carminum reliquiae, and classifies the fragments of theSabinaeunderex incertis saturarum libris. TheAmbraciais evidently called after the city of that name in Epirus, celebrated for the long and remarkable siege which it sustained against the Romans under M. Fulvius Nobilior. That general finally captured the city in 189B.C.If the piece is to be considered as a play, it was, like theClastidium, written in honor of a Roman general, and acted on the occasion either of his triumph or of his funeral.

We have four short fragments from thePaulusof Pacuvius (220-130B.C.), written in celebration of the exploits of L. Aemilius Paulus who conquered Perseus, king of Macedonia, in the battle of Pydna, 168B.C.

The fragments of the plays already mentioned are too brief to afford any adequate idea of the character or content of the plays. But in theBrutusof Accius (b. 170B.C.), which centers around the expulsion of the Tarquins and the establishment of the Republic, we have a larger glimpse into the play through two most interesting fragments consisting of twelve iambic trimeters and ten trochaic tetrameters, respectively. In the first, King Tarquin relates to his seer an ill-ominous dream which he has had; the second is the seer's interpretation of this dream, pointing to Tarquin's dethronement by Brutus. Other short fragments give glimpses of the outrage of Lucretia by Sextus at Collatia, and the scene in the forum where Brutus takes his oath of office as first consul. This play, unlike its predecessors, was not written at the time of the events which it portrays, but may still be classed with them, so far as its object is concerned, since it is generally thought to have been written in honor of D. Junius Brutus who was consul in 138B.C., and with whom the poet enjoyed an intimate friendship.

Anotherpraetextaof Accius is preserved, theDecius, of which eleven short fragments remain. This play celebrates the victory of Quintus Fabius Maximus and P. Decius Mus over the Samnites and Gauls at Sentinum in 295B.C.The climax of the play would be the self-immolation of Decius after the example of his father in the Latin war of 340B.C.

In addition to these plays of the Roman dramatists of the Republic, we have knowledge of a few which date from later times. There was a historical drama entitledIter, by L. Cornelius Balbus, who dramatized the incidents of a journey which he made to Pompey's camp at Dyrrachium at the opening of civil war in 49B.C.Balbus was under commission from Caesar to treat with the consul, L. Cornelius Lentulus, and other optimates who had fled from Rome, concerning their return to the city. The journey was a complete fiasco, so far as results were concerned; but the vanity of Balbus was so flattered by his (to him) important mission that he must needs dramatize his experiences and present the play under his own direction in his native city of Gades.

We have mention also of anAeneasby Pomponius Secundus, and of twopraetextaeby Curiatius Maternus, entitledDomitiusandCato.

These eleven historical plays are, as we have seen, for the most part, plays of occasion, and would be at best of but temporary interest, born of the special circumstances which inspired them. They are in no way comparable with such historical dramas on Roman subjects as Shakespeare'sJulius CaesarorCoriolanus, whose interest is for all times.

We have still a twelfth play of this class, which enjoys the unique distinction of being the only Roman historical drama which has come down to us—theOctavia. Its authorship is unknown, although tradition gives it a place among the tragedies of Seneca, the philosopher. The general opinion of modern critics, however, is against this tradition, chiefly because one passage in the play, in the form of a prophecy, too circumstantially describes the death of Nero, which occurred three years after the death of Seneca. It is generally agreed that the play must have been written soon after the death of Nero, and by some one, possibly Maternus, who had been an eye-witness of the events, and who had been inspired by his sympathies for the unfortunate Octavia to write this story of her sufferings.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

The sceneis laid throughout in different apartments of the palace of Nero, and is concerned with the events of the year 62A.D.

Octavia:Now doth the flushing dawn from heaven driveThe wandering stars; the sun mounts into sightWith radiant beams, and brings the world once moreThe light of day. Up, then, my heavy soul,With grievous cares o'erburdened, and resume5Thy woe; out-wail the sea-bred Halcyons,And those sad birds of old Pandion's house;For this thy lot is heavier far than theirs.O mother, constant source of tears to me,10Hear now thy woeful daughter's sad complaints,If aught of sense remains among the shades.Oh, that the grizzly Clotho long ago,With her own hand had clipt my thread of life!15Through blinding tears I saw thy bleeding wounds,Thy features sprinkled with defiling blood.Oh, light of day, abhorrent to my eyes!From that dread hour I hate the day's pure light20More than the night's dark gloom; for daily nowMust I endure a cruel stepdame's rule,Must daily bear her hateful looks and words.She, she the baleful fury fiend it wasWho at my marriage rites bore torches lit25With hellish fires; 'twas she who wrought thy death,O wretched father, whom but yesterdayThe whole world owned as lord on land and sea;To whom the Britain bowed, though ne'er beforeHad he a Roman master known or owned.30Alas, my father, by thy wife's fell plotsThou liest low, and I and all thy houseLike captives groan beneath the tyrant's sway.

Octavia:Now doth the flushing dawn from heaven drive

The wandering stars; the sun mounts into sight

With radiant beams, and brings the world once more

The light of day. Up, then, my heavy soul,

With grievous cares o'erburdened, and resume5

Thy woe; out-wail the sea-bred Halcyons,

And those sad birds of old Pandion's house;

For this thy lot is heavier far than theirs.

O mother, constant source of tears to me,10

Hear now thy woeful daughter's sad complaints,

If aught of sense remains among the shades.

Oh, that the grizzly Clotho long ago,

With her own hand had clipt my thread of life!15

Through blinding tears I saw thy bleeding wounds,

Thy features sprinkled with defiling blood.

Oh, light of day, abhorrent to my eyes!

From that dread hour I hate the day's pure light20

More than the night's dark gloom; for daily now

Must I endure a cruel stepdame's rule,

Must daily bear her hateful looks and words.

She, she the baleful fury fiend it was

Who at my marriage rites bore torches lit25

With hellish fires; 'twas she who wrought thy death,

O wretched father, whom but yesterday

The whole world owned as lord on land and sea;

To whom the Britain bowed, though ne'er before

Had he a Roman master known or owned.30

Alas, my father, by thy wife's fell plots

Thou liest low, and I and all thy house

Like captives groan beneath the tyrant's sway.

[Exit to her chamber.]

Nurse[entering]: Who stands in wonder, smitten by the gloss35And splendor of a princely court, amazedAt sight of easy-won prosperity,Let him behold how, at the stroke of fate,The house of Claudius is overthrown,To whose control the world was subjugate,40Whose rule an ocean, long to sway unknown,Obeyed, and bore our ships with subject will.Lo, he, who first the savage Britains curbed,And filled an unknown ocean with his fleet,And passed in safety 'mid barbaric tribes—By his own wife's impiety was slain.45And she is destined by her son to fall,Whose hapless brother lies already slainBy poison's hand, whose sister-wife aloneIs left to mourn. Nor may she hide her grief,By bitter wrath impelled to speak. She shunsHer cruel lord's society, and, fired50With equal hate, with mutual[55]loathing burns.Our pious faithfulness in vain consolesHer grieving heart; her cruel woes rejectOur aid; the noble passion of her soulWill not be ruled, but grows on ills renewed.Alas, my fears forebode some desperate deed,55Which may the gods forbid!Octavia[heard speaking from within her chamber]: O fate of mine, that can no equal know!Thy woes, Electra, were no match for these;For thou couldst soothe with tears the grief thou hadst60For thy dear father's fall; thou couldst avengeThe murder by thy brother's ready hand,Who by thy piety was saved from death,And whom thy faith concealed. But me base fearForbids to weep my parents reft away65By cruel fate; forbids to weep the deathOf him, my brother, who my sole hope was,My fleeting comfort of so many woes.And now, surviving but to suffer still,I live, the shadow of a noble name.70Nurse:Behold, the voice of my sad foster-childFalls on my list'ning ears. Slow steps of age,Why haste ye not within her chamber there?

Nurse[entering]: Who stands in wonder, smitten by the gloss35

And splendor of a princely court, amazed

At sight of easy-won prosperity,

Let him behold how, at the stroke of fate,

The house of Claudius is overthrown,

To whose control the world was subjugate,40

Whose rule an ocean, long to sway unknown,

Obeyed, and bore our ships with subject will.

Lo, he, who first the savage Britains curbed,

And filled an unknown ocean with his fleet,

And passed in safety 'mid barbaric tribes—

By his own wife's impiety was slain.45

And she is destined by her son to fall,

Whose hapless brother lies already slain

By poison's hand, whose sister-wife alone

Is left to mourn. Nor may she hide her grief,

By bitter wrath impelled to speak. She shuns

Her cruel lord's society, and, fired50

With equal hate, with mutual[55]loathing burns.

Our pious faithfulness in vain consoles

Her grieving heart; her cruel woes reject

Our aid; the noble passion of her soul

Will not be ruled, but grows on ills renewed.

Alas, my fears forebode some desperate deed,55

Which may the gods forbid!

Octavia[heard speaking from within her chamber]: O fate of mine, that can no equal know!Thy woes, Electra, were no match for these;For thou couldst soothe with tears the grief thou hadst60For thy dear father's fall; thou couldst avengeThe murder by thy brother's ready hand,Who by thy piety was saved from death,And whom thy faith concealed. But me base fearForbids to weep my parents reft away65By cruel fate; forbids to weep the deathOf him, my brother, who my sole hope was,My fleeting comfort of so many woes.And now, surviving but to suffer still,I live, the shadow of a noble name.70

Octavia[heard speaking from within her chamber]: O fate of mine, that can no equal know!

Thy woes, Electra, were no match for these;

For thou couldst soothe with tears the grief thou hadst60

For thy dear father's fall; thou couldst avenge

The murder by thy brother's ready hand,

Who by thy piety was saved from death,

And whom thy faith concealed. But me base fear

Forbids to weep my parents reft away65

By cruel fate; forbids to weep the death

Of him, my brother, who my sole hope was,

My fleeting comfort of so many woes.

And now, surviving but to suffer still,

I live, the shadow of a noble name.70

Nurse:Behold, the voice of my sad foster-childFalls on my list'ning ears. Slow steps of age,Why haste ye not within her chamber there?

Nurse:Behold, the voice of my sad foster-child

Falls on my list'ning ears. Slow steps of age,

Why haste ye not within her chamber there?

[Starts to enter the chamber, but is met byOctaviacoming forth.]

Octavia:Within thy bosom let me weep, dear nurse,Thou ever trusty witness of my grief.75Nurse:What day shall free thee from thy woes, poor child?Octavia:The day that sends me to the Stygian shades.Nurse:May heaven keep such dark omens far away!80Octavia:'Tis not thy prayers, but fate that shapes my life.Nurse:But God will bring thy life to better days.Do thou but be appeased, and win thy lordWith mild obedience.85Octavia:I'll sooner tameThe savage lion's heart, the tiger's rage,Than curb that brutal tyrant's cruel soul.He hates all sons of noble blood, and godsAnd men he sets at naught; nor can he bear90That high estate to which along the pathsOf shameful crime his impious mother led;For though it shames him now, ungrateful one,To hold the scepter which his mother gave;And though by death he has requited her:95Still will the glory of the empire wonBelong to her for centuries to come.Nurse:Restrain these words that voice thy raging heart,And check thy tongue's too rash and thoughtless speech.Octavia:Though I should bear what may be borne, my woes,100Save by a cruel death, could not be ended.For, since my mother was by murder slain,And my father taken off by crime most foul,Robbed of my brother, overwhelmed with woe,Oppressed with sadness, by my husband scorned,Degraded to the level of my slave,105I find this life no more endurable.My heart doth tremble, not with fear of death,But slander base, employed to work my death.Far from my name and fate be that foul blot.For death itself—Oh, 'twould be sweet to die;For 'tis a punishment far worse than death,To live in contact with the man I loathe,To see the tyrant's face all passion puffed,110And fierce with rage, to kiss my deadliest foe.That I should fear his nod, obey his will,My grief, resentful, will not suffer me,Since by his hand my brother was destroyed,Whose kingdom he usurps, and boasts himselfThe author of that shameful deed. How oft115Before my eyes does that sad image come,My brother's ghost, when I have gone to rest,And sleep has closed my eyelids faint with tears!Now in his weakling hand he brandishesThe smoking torch, and violently assailsHis brother to his face; now, trembling sore,He flees for refuge to my sheltering arms.120His foe pursues, and, as his victim clingsConvulsively to me, he thrusts his swordWith murderous intent through both our sides.Then, all a-tremble, do I start awake,And in my waking sense renew my fear.Add to these cares a rival, arrogant,125Who queens it in the spoils of this our house;At whose behest the mother was enticedTo that fell ship which should have carried herTo Orcus' depths; but when o'er ocean's wavesShe triumphed, he, than ocean's waves more harshAnd pitiless, despatched her with the sword.Amid such deeds, what hopes of peace have I?130O'erblown with hate, triumphant, doth my rivalWithin my very chamber's hold defy me;With deadly malice doth she blaze against me,And as the price of her adulterous sweets,Doth she demand that he, my husband, giveMy life, his lawful wife's, in sacrifice.Oh, rise thou, father, from the gloomy shades,And help thy daughter who invokes thine aid;135Or else cleave wide the earth to Stygian depths,And let me plunge at last to shelter there.Nurse:In vain dost thou invoke thy father's soul,Poor child, in vain; for there among the shadesHe little thinks upon his offspring here;Who, when in life, unto his own true sonPreferred the offspring of another's blood,140And to himself in most incestuous bondsAnd rites unhallowed joined his brother's child.From this foul source has flowed a stream of crime:Of murder, treachery, the lust of power,The thirst for blood. Thy promised husband fell,A victim slain to grace that wedding feast,145Lest, joined with thee, he should too mighty grow.Oh, monstrous deed! Silanus, charged with crime,Was slain to make a bridal offering,And stained the household gods with guiltless blood.And then this alien comes, Oh, woe is me,150And by his mother's wiles usurps the house,Made son-in-law and son to the emperor,A youth of temper most unnatural,To impious crime inclined, whose passion's flameHis mother fanned, and forced thee at the lastIn hated wedlock into his embrace.Emboldened by this notable success,155She dared to dream of wider sovereignty.What tongue can tell the changing forms of crime,Her impious hopes, her cozening treacheries,Who seeks the throne along the ways of sin?Then Piety with trembling haste withdrew,160And Fury through the empty palace hallsWith baleful tread resounded, and defiledThe sacred images with Stygian brands.All holy laws of nature and of heavenIn mad abandon did she set at naught.She mingled deadly poison for her lord,165And she herself by the impious mandate fellOf her own son. Thou too dost lifeless lie,Poor youth, forever to be mourned by us,Ill-starred Britannicus, so late, in life,The brightest star of this our firmament,The prop and stay of our imperial house;But now, Oh, woe is me, a heap of dust,Of unsubstantial dust, a flitting shade.170Nay, even thy stepmother's cruel cheeksWere wet with tears, when on the funeral pyreShe placed thy form and saw the flames consumeThy limbs and face fair as the wingéd god's.Octavia:Me, too, he must destroy—or fall by me.Nurse:But nature has not given thee strength to slay.175Octavia:Yet anguish, anger, pain, distress of soul,The ecstasy of grief will give me strength.Nurse:Nay, by compliance, rather, win thy lord.Octavia:That thus he may restore my brother slain?Nurse:That thou thyself mayst go unscathed of death;That thou by thine own offspring mayst restoreThy father's falling house.180Octavia:This princely houseExpects an heir, 'tis true; but not from me,For I am doomed to meet my brother's fate.Nurse:Console thy heart with this, that thou art dearUnto the populace, who love thee well.Octavia:That thought doth soothe, but cannot cure my grief.Nurse:Their power availeth much.185Octavia:The prince's more.Nurse:He will regard his wife.Octavia:My foe forbids.Nurse:But she is scorned by all.Octavia:Yet loved by him.Nurse:She is not yet his wife.Octavia:But soon will be,And mother of his child, his kingdom's heir.Nurse:The fire of youthful passion glows at firstWith heat impetuous; but soon abates,190And vanishes like flickering tongues of flame.Unhallowed love cannot for long endure;But pure and lasting is the love inspiredBy chaste and wifely faith. She who has daredTo violate thy bed, and hold so longThy husband's heart in thrall, herself a slave,Already trembles lest his fickle love195Shall thrust her forth and set a rival there.Subdued and humble, even now she showsHow deep and real her fear; for her, indeed,Shall wingéd Cupid, false and fickle god,Abandon and betray. Though face and formBe passing fair, though beauty vaunt herself,And boast her power, still are her triumphs brief,200Her joys a passing dream.Nay, Juno's self,Though queen of heaven, endured such grief as thine,When he, her lord, and father of the gods,Stole from her side to seek in mortal formsThe love of mortal maids. Now, in his need,205He dons the snowy plumage of a swan;Now hornéd seems, like a Sidonian bull;And now a glorious, golden shower he falls,And rests within the arms of Danaë.Nor yet is Juno's sum of woe complete:The sons of Leda glitter in the skyIn starry splendor; Bacchus proudly standsBeside his father on Olympus' height;Divine Alcides hath to Hebe's charms210Attained, and fears stern Juno's wrath no more.Her very son-in-law hath he becomeWhom once she hated most. Yet in her heartDeep down she pressed her grief, and wisely won,By mild compliance to his wayward will,Her husband's love again. And now the queen,215Secure at last from rivalry, holds swayAlone, within the Thunderer's heart. No more,By mortal beauty smitten, does he leaveHis royal chambers in the vaulted sky.Thou, too, on earth, another Juno art,220The wife and sister of our mighty lord.Then be thou wise as she, make show of love,And hide thy crushing sorrows with a smile.Octavia:The savage seas shall sooner mate with stars,And fire with water, heav'n with gloomy hell,Glad light with shades, and day with dewy night,Than shall my soul in amity consort225With his black heart, most foul and impious:Too mindful I of my poor brother's ghost.And Oh, that he who guides the heavenly worlds,Who shakes the realms of earth with deadly bolts,And with his dreadful thunders awes our minds,Would whelm in fiery death this murderous prince.230Strange portents have we seen: the comet dire,Shining with baleful light, his glowing trainFar gleaming in the distant northern sky,Where slow Boötes, numb with arctic frosts,Directs his ponderous wagon's endless rounds.The very air is tainted by the breath235Of this destructive prince; and for his sakeThe stars, resentful, threaten to destroyThe nations which so dire a tyrant rules.Not such a pest was impious Typhon huge,Whom earth, in wrath and scorn of heaven, produced.This scourge is more destructive far than he.240He is the bitter foe of gods and men,Who drives the heavenly beings from their shrines,And from their native land the citizens;Who from his brother took the breath of life,And drained his mother's blood.And does he live,This guilty wretch, and draw his tainted breath?O Jove, thou high-exalted father, why245Dost thou so oft with thine imperial handThy darts invincible at random hurl?Why from his guilty head dost thou withholdThy hand of vengeance? Oh, that he might payFor all his crimes the fitting penalty,This son of deified Domitius,This Nero, heartless tyrant of the world,250Which he beneath the yoke of bondage holds,This moral blot upon a noble name!Nurse:Unworthy he to be thy mate, I know;But, dearest child, to fate and fortune yield,Lest thou excite thy savage husband's wrath.Perchance some god will come to right thy wrongs,255And on thy life some happier day will dawn.Octavia:That may not be. Long since, our ill-starred houseHas groaned beneath the heavy wrath of heaven.That wrath at first my hapless mother felt,Whom Venus cursed with lust insatiate;For she, with heedless, impious passion fired,260Unmindful of her absent lord, of us,Her guiltless children, and the law's restraints,In open day another husband wed.To that fell couch avenging Fury cameWith streaming locks and serpents intertwined,And quenched those stolen wedding fires in blood.For with destructive rage, on murder bent,265She fired the prince's heart; and at his word,Ah, woe is me, my ill-starred mother fell,And, dying, doomed me to perpetual grief.For after her in quick succession cameHer husband and her son; and this our house,Already falling, was to ruin plunged.Nurse:Forbear with pious tears to renew thy grief,270And do not so disturb thy father's shade,Who for his rage has bitterly atoned.

Octavia:Within thy bosom let me weep, dear nurse,Thou ever trusty witness of my grief.75

Octavia:Within thy bosom let me weep, dear nurse,

Thou ever trusty witness of my grief.75

Nurse:What day shall free thee from thy woes, poor child?

Octavia:The day that sends me to the Stygian shades.

Nurse:May heaven keep such dark omens far away!80

Octavia:'Tis not thy prayers, but fate that shapes my life.

Nurse:But God will bring thy life to better days.Do thou but be appeased, and win thy lordWith mild obedience.85

Nurse:But God will bring thy life to better days.

Do thou but be appeased, and win thy lord

With mild obedience.85

Octavia:I'll sooner tameThe savage lion's heart, the tiger's rage,Than curb that brutal tyrant's cruel soul.He hates all sons of noble blood, and godsAnd men he sets at naught; nor can he bear90That high estate to which along the pathsOf shameful crime his impious mother led;For though it shames him now, ungrateful one,To hold the scepter which his mother gave;And though by death he has requited her:95Still will the glory of the empire wonBelong to her for centuries to come.

Octavia:I'll sooner tame

The savage lion's heart, the tiger's rage,

Than curb that brutal tyrant's cruel soul.

He hates all sons of noble blood, and gods

And men he sets at naught; nor can he bear90

That high estate to which along the paths

Of shameful crime his impious mother led;

For though it shames him now, ungrateful one,

To hold the scepter which his mother gave;

And though by death he has requited her:95

Still will the glory of the empire won

Belong to her for centuries to come.

Nurse:Restrain these words that voice thy raging heart,And check thy tongue's too rash and thoughtless speech.

Nurse:Restrain these words that voice thy raging heart,

And check thy tongue's too rash and thoughtless speech.

Octavia:Though I should bear what may be borne, my woes,100Save by a cruel death, could not be ended.For, since my mother was by murder slain,And my father taken off by crime most foul,Robbed of my brother, overwhelmed with woe,Oppressed with sadness, by my husband scorned,Degraded to the level of my slave,105I find this life no more endurable.My heart doth tremble, not with fear of death,But slander base, employed to work my death.Far from my name and fate be that foul blot.For death itself—Oh, 'twould be sweet to die;For 'tis a punishment far worse than death,To live in contact with the man I loathe,To see the tyrant's face all passion puffed,110And fierce with rage, to kiss my deadliest foe.That I should fear his nod, obey his will,My grief, resentful, will not suffer me,Since by his hand my brother was destroyed,Whose kingdom he usurps, and boasts himselfThe author of that shameful deed. How oft115Before my eyes does that sad image come,My brother's ghost, when I have gone to rest,And sleep has closed my eyelids faint with tears!Now in his weakling hand he brandishesThe smoking torch, and violently assailsHis brother to his face; now, trembling sore,He flees for refuge to my sheltering arms.120His foe pursues, and, as his victim clingsConvulsively to me, he thrusts his swordWith murderous intent through both our sides.Then, all a-tremble, do I start awake,And in my waking sense renew my fear.Add to these cares a rival, arrogant,125Who queens it in the spoils of this our house;At whose behest the mother was enticedTo that fell ship which should have carried herTo Orcus' depths; but when o'er ocean's wavesShe triumphed, he, than ocean's waves more harshAnd pitiless, despatched her with the sword.Amid such deeds, what hopes of peace have I?130O'erblown with hate, triumphant, doth my rivalWithin my very chamber's hold defy me;With deadly malice doth she blaze against me,And as the price of her adulterous sweets,Doth she demand that he, my husband, giveMy life, his lawful wife's, in sacrifice.Oh, rise thou, father, from the gloomy shades,And help thy daughter who invokes thine aid;135Or else cleave wide the earth to Stygian depths,And let me plunge at last to shelter there.

Octavia:Though I should bear what may be borne, my woes,100

Save by a cruel death, could not be ended.

For, since my mother was by murder slain,

And my father taken off by crime most foul,

Robbed of my brother, overwhelmed with woe,

Oppressed with sadness, by my husband scorned,

Degraded to the level of my slave,105

I find this life no more endurable.

My heart doth tremble, not with fear of death,

But slander base, employed to work my death.

Far from my name and fate be that foul blot.

For death itself—Oh, 'twould be sweet to die;

For 'tis a punishment far worse than death,

To live in contact with the man I loathe,

To see the tyrant's face all passion puffed,110

And fierce with rage, to kiss my deadliest foe.

That I should fear his nod, obey his will,

My grief, resentful, will not suffer me,

Since by his hand my brother was destroyed,

Whose kingdom he usurps, and boasts himself

The author of that shameful deed. How oft115

Before my eyes does that sad image come,

My brother's ghost, when I have gone to rest,

And sleep has closed my eyelids faint with tears!

Now in his weakling hand he brandishes

The smoking torch, and violently assails

His brother to his face; now, trembling sore,

He flees for refuge to my sheltering arms.120

His foe pursues, and, as his victim clings

Convulsively to me, he thrusts his sword

With murderous intent through both our sides.

Then, all a-tremble, do I start awake,

And in my waking sense renew my fear.

Add to these cares a rival, arrogant,125

Who queens it in the spoils of this our house;

At whose behest the mother was enticed

To that fell ship which should have carried her

To Orcus' depths; but when o'er ocean's waves

She triumphed, he, than ocean's waves more harsh

And pitiless, despatched her with the sword.

Amid such deeds, what hopes of peace have I?130

O'erblown with hate, triumphant, doth my rival

Within my very chamber's hold defy me;

With deadly malice doth she blaze against me,

And as the price of her adulterous sweets,

Doth she demand that he, my husband, give

My life, his lawful wife's, in sacrifice.

Oh, rise thou, father, from the gloomy shades,

And help thy daughter who invokes thine aid;135

Or else cleave wide the earth to Stygian depths,

And let me plunge at last to shelter there.

Nurse:In vain dost thou invoke thy father's soul,Poor child, in vain; for there among the shadesHe little thinks upon his offspring here;Who, when in life, unto his own true sonPreferred the offspring of another's blood,140And to himself in most incestuous bondsAnd rites unhallowed joined his brother's child.From this foul source has flowed a stream of crime:Of murder, treachery, the lust of power,The thirst for blood. Thy promised husband fell,A victim slain to grace that wedding feast,145Lest, joined with thee, he should too mighty grow.Oh, monstrous deed! Silanus, charged with crime,Was slain to make a bridal offering,And stained the household gods with guiltless blood.And then this alien comes, Oh, woe is me,150And by his mother's wiles usurps the house,Made son-in-law and son to the emperor,A youth of temper most unnatural,To impious crime inclined, whose passion's flameHis mother fanned, and forced thee at the lastIn hated wedlock into his embrace.Emboldened by this notable success,155She dared to dream of wider sovereignty.What tongue can tell the changing forms of crime,Her impious hopes, her cozening treacheries,Who seeks the throne along the ways of sin?Then Piety with trembling haste withdrew,160And Fury through the empty palace hallsWith baleful tread resounded, and defiledThe sacred images with Stygian brands.All holy laws of nature and of heavenIn mad abandon did she set at naught.She mingled deadly poison for her lord,165And she herself by the impious mandate fellOf her own son. Thou too dost lifeless lie,Poor youth, forever to be mourned by us,Ill-starred Britannicus, so late, in life,The brightest star of this our firmament,The prop and stay of our imperial house;But now, Oh, woe is me, a heap of dust,Of unsubstantial dust, a flitting shade.170Nay, even thy stepmother's cruel cheeksWere wet with tears, when on the funeral pyreShe placed thy form and saw the flames consumeThy limbs and face fair as the wingéd god's.

Nurse:In vain dost thou invoke thy father's soul,

Poor child, in vain; for there among the shades

He little thinks upon his offspring here;

Who, when in life, unto his own true son

Preferred the offspring of another's blood,140

And to himself in most incestuous bonds

And rites unhallowed joined his brother's child.

From this foul source has flowed a stream of crime:

Of murder, treachery, the lust of power,

The thirst for blood. Thy promised husband fell,

A victim slain to grace that wedding feast,145

Lest, joined with thee, he should too mighty grow.

Oh, monstrous deed! Silanus, charged with crime,

Was slain to make a bridal offering,

And stained the household gods with guiltless blood.

And then this alien comes, Oh, woe is me,150

And by his mother's wiles usurps the house,

Made son-in-law and son to the emperor,

A youth of temper most unnatural,

To impious crime inclined, whose passion's flame

His mother fanned, and forced thee at the last

In hated wedlock into his embrace.

Emboldened by this notable success,155

She dared to dream of wider sovereignty.

What tongue can tell the changing forms of crime,

Her impious hopes, her cozening treacheries,

Who seeks the throne along the ways of sin?

Then Piety with trembling haste withdrew,160

And Fury through the empty palace halls

With baleful tread resounded, and defiled

The sacred images with Stygian brands.

All holy laws of nature and of heaven

In mad abandon did she set at naught.

She mingled deadly poison for her lord,165

And she herself by the impious mandate fell

Of her own son. Thou too dost lifeless lie,

Poor youth, forever to be mourned by us,

Ill-starred Britannicus, so late, in life,

The brightest star of this our firmament,

The prop and stay of our imperial house;

But now, Oh, woe is me, a heap of dust,

Of unsubstantial dust, a flitting shade.170

Nay, even thy stepmother's cruel cheeks

Were wet with tears, when on the funeral pyre

She placed thy form and saw the flames consume

Thy limbs and face fair as the wingéd god's.

Octavia:Me, too, he must destroy—or fall by me.

Nurse:But nature has not given thee strength to slay.175

Octavia:Yet anguish, anger, pain, distress of soul,The ecstasy of grief will give me strength.

Octavia:Yet anguish, anger, pain, distress of soul,

The ecstasy of grief will give me strength.

Nurse:Nay, by compliance, rather, win thy lord.

Octavia:That thus he may restore my brother slain?

Nurse:That thou thyself mayst go unscathed of death;That thou by thine own offspring mayst restoreThy father's falling house.180

Nurse:That thou thyself mayst go unscathed of death;

That thou by thine own offspring mayst restore

Thy father's falling house.180

Octavia:This princely houseExpects an heir, 'tis true; but not from me,For I am doomed to meet my brother's fate.

Octavia:This princely house

Expects an heir, 'tis true; but not from me,

For I am doomed to meet my brother's fate.

Nurse:Console thy heart with this, that thou art dearUnto the populace, who love thee well.

Nurse:Console thy heart with this, that thou art dear

Unto the populace, who love thee well.

Octavia:That thought doth soothe, but cannot cure my grief.

Nurse:Their power availeth much.185

Octavia:The prince's more.

Nurse:He will regard his wife.

Octavia:My foe forbids.

Nurse:But she is scorned by all.

Octavia:Yet loved by him.

Nurse:She is not yet his wife.

Octavia:But soon will be,And mother of his child, his kingdom's heir.

Octavia:But soon will be,

And mother of his child, his kingdom's heir.

Nurse:The fire of youthful passion glows at firstWith heat impetuous; but soon abates,190And vanishes like flickering tongues of flame.Unhallowed love cannot for long endure;But pure and lasting is the love inspiredBy chaste and wifely faith. She who has daredTo violate thy bed, and hold so longThy husband's heart in thrall, herself a slave,Already trembles lest his fickle love195Shall thrust her forth and set a rival there.Subdued and humble, even now she showsHow deep and real her fear; for her, indeed,Shall wingéd Cupid, false and fickle god,Abandon and betray. Though face and formBe passing fair, though beauty vaunt herself,And boast her power, still are her triumphs brief,200Her joys a passing dream.Nay, Juno's self,Though queen of heaven, endured such grief as thine,When he, her lord, and father of the gods,Stole from her side to seek in mortal formsThe love of mortal maids. Now, in his need,205He dons the snowy plumage of a swan;Now hornéd seems, like a Sidonian bull;And now a glorious, golden shower he falls,And rests within the arms of Danaë.Nor yet is Juno's sum of woe complete:The sons of Leda glitter in the skyIn starry splendor; Bacchus proudly standsBeside his father on Olympus' height;Divine Alcides hath to Hebe's charms210Attained, and fears stern Juno's wrath no more.Her very son-in-law hath he becomeWhom once she hated most. Yet in her heartDeep down she pressed her grief, and wisely won,By mild compliance to his wayward will,Her husband's love again. And now the queen,215Secure at last from rivalry, holds swayAlone, within the Thunderer's heart. No more,By mortal beauty smitten, does he leaveHis royal chambers in the vaulted sky.Thou, too, on earth, another Juno art,220The wife and sister of our mighty lord.Then be thou wise as she, make show of love,And hide thy crushing sorrows with a smile.

Nurse:The fire of youthful passion glows at first

With heat impetuous; but soon abates,190

And vanishes like flickering tongues of flame.

Unhallowed love cannot for long endure;

But pure and lasting is the love inspired

By chaste and wifely faith. She who has dared

To violate thy bed, and hold so long

Thy husband's heart in thrall, herself a slave,

Already trembles lest his fickle love195

Shall thrust her forth and set a rival there.

Subdued and humble, even now she shows

How deep and real her fear; for her, indeed,

Shall wingéd Cupid, false and fickle god,

Abandon and betray. Though face and form

Be passing fair, though beauty vaunt herself,

And boast her power, still are her triumphs brief,200

Her joys a passing dream.

Nay, Juno's self,

Though queen of heaven, endured such grief as thine,

When he, her lord, and father of the gods,

Stole from her side to seek in mortal forms

The love of mortal maids. Now, in his need,205

He dons the snowy plumage of a swan;

Now hornéd seems, like a Sidonian bull;

And now a glorious, golden shower he falls,

And rests within the arms of Danaë.

Nor yet is Juno's sum of woe complete:

The sons of Leda glitter in the sky

In starry splendor; Bacchus proudly stands

Beside his father on Olympus' height;

Divine Alcides hath to Hebe's charms210

Attained, and fears stern Juno's wrath no more.

Her very son-in-law hath he become

Whom once she hated most. Yet in her heart

Deep down she pressed her grief, and wisely won,

By mild compliance to his wayward will,

Her husband's love again. And now the queen,215

Secure at last from rivalry, holds sway

Alone, within the Thunderer's heart. No more,

By mortal beauty smitten, does he leave

His royal chambers in the vaulted sky.

Thou, too, on earth, another Juno art,220

The wife and sister of our mighty lord.

Then be thou wise as she, make show of love,

And hide thy crushing sorrows with a smile.

Octavia:The savage seas shall sooner mate with stars,And fire with water, heav'n with gloomy hell,Glad light with shades, and day with dewy night,Than shall my soul in amity consort225With his black heart, most foul and impious:Too mindful I of my poor brother's ghost.And Oh, that he who guides the heavenly worlds,Who shakes the realms of earth with deadly bolts,And with his dreadful thunders awes our minds,Would whelm in fiery death this murderous prince.230Strange portents have we seen: the comet dire,Shining with baleful light, his glowing trainFar gleaming in the distant northern sky,Where slow Boötes, numb with arctic frosts,Directs his ponderous wagon's endless rounds.The very air is tainted by the breath235Of this destructive prince; and for his sakeThe stars, resentful, threaten to destroyThe nations which so dire a tyrant rules.Not such a pest was impious Typhon huge,Whom earth, in wrath and scorn of heaven, produced.This scourge is more destructive far than he.240He is the bitter foe of gods and men,Who drives the heavenly beings from their shrines,And from their native land the citizens;Who from his brother took the breath of life,And drained his mother's blood.And does he live,This guilty wretch, and draw his tainted breath?O Jove, thou high-exalted father, why245Dost thou so oft with thine imperial handThy darts invincible at random hurl?Why from his guilty head dost thou withholdThy hand of vengeance? Oh, that he might payFor all his crimes the fitting penalty,This son of deified Domitius,This Nero, heartless tyrant of the world,250Which he beneath the yoke of bondage holds,This moral blot upon a noble name!

Octavia:The savage seas shall sooner mate with stars,

And fire with water, heav'n with gloomy hell,

Glad light with shades, and day with dewy night,

Than shall my soul in amity consort225

With his black heart, most foul and impious:

Too mindful I of my poor brother's ghost.

And Oh, that he who guides the heavenly worlds,

Who shakes the realms of earth with deadly bolts,

And with his dreadful thunders awes our minds,

Would whelm in fiery death this murderous prince.230

Strange portents have we seen: the comet dire,

Shining with baleful light, his glowing train

Far gleaming in the distant northern sky,

Where slow Boötes, numb with arctic frosts,

Directs his ponderous wagon's endless rounds.

The very air is tainted by the breath235

Of this destructive prince; and for his sake

The stars, resentful, threaten to destroy

The nations which so dire a tyrant rules.

Not such a pest was impious Typhon huge,

Whom earth, in wrath and scorn of heaven, produced.

This scourge is more destructive far than he.240

He is the bitter foe of gods and men,

Who drives the heavenly beings from their shrines,

And from their native land the citizens;

Who from his brother took the breath of life,

And drained his mother's blood.

And does he live,

This guilty wretch, and draw his tainted breath?

O Jove, thou high-exalted father, why245

Dost thou so oft with thine imperial hand

Thy darts invincible at random hurl?

Why from his guilty head dost thou withhold

Thy hand of vengeance? Oh, that he might pay

For all his crimes the fitting penalty,

This son of deified Domitius,

This Nero, heartless tyrant of the world,250

Which he beneath the yoke of bondage holds,

This moral blot upon a noble name!

Nurse:Unworthy he to be thy mate, I know;But, dearest child, to fate and fortune yield,Lest thou excite thy savage husband's wrath.Perchance some god will come to right thy wrongs,255And on thy life some happier day will dawn.

Nurse:Unworthy he to be thy mate, I know;

But, dearest child, to fate and fortune yield,

Lest thou excite thy savage husband's wrath.

Perchance some god will come to right thy wrongs,255

And on thy life some happier day will dawn.

Octavia:That may not be. Long since, our ill-starred houseHas groaned beneath the heavy wrath of heaven.That wrath at first my hapless mother felt,Whom Venus cursed with lust insatiate;For she, with heedless, impious passion fired,260Unmindful of her absent lord, of us,Her guiltless children, and the law's restraints,In open day another husband wed.To that fell couch avenging Fury cameWith streaming locks and serpents intertwined,And quenched those stolen wedding fires in blood.For with destructive rage, on murder bent,265She fired the prince's heart; and at his word,Ah, woe is me, my ill-starred mother fell,And, dying, doomed me to perpetual grief.For after her in quick succession cameHer husband and her son; and this our house,Already falling, was to ruin plunged.

Octavia:That may not be. Long since, our ill-starred house

Has groaned beneath the heavy wrath of heaven.

That wrath at first my hapless mother felt,

Whom Venus cursed with lust insatiate;

For she, with heedless, impious passion fired,260

Unmindful of her absent lord, of us,

Her guiltless children, and the law's restraints,

In open day another husband wed.

To that fell couch avenging Fury came

With streaming locks and serpents intertwined,

And quenched those stolen wedding fires in blood.

For with destructive rage, on murder bent,265

She fired the prince's heart; and at his word,

Ah, woe is me, my ill-starred mother fell,

And, dying, doomed me to perpetual grief.

For after her in quick succession came

Her husband and her son; and this our house,

Already falling, was to ruin plunged.

Nurse:Forbear with pious tears to renew thy grief,270And do not so disturb thy father's shade,Who for his rage has bitterly atoned.

Nurse:Forbear with pious tears to renew thy grief,270

And do not so disturb thy father's shade,

Who for his rage has bitterly atoned.

Chorus[sympathetic withOctavia]: False prove the rumor that of lateTo our ears has come! May its vaunted threatsFall fruitless out and of no avail!275May no new wife invade the bedOf our royal prince; may Octavia, bornOf the Claudian race, maintain her rightAnd bear us a son, the pledge of peace,In which the joyful world shall rest,280And Rome preserve her glorious name.Most mighty Juno holds the lotBy fate assigned—her brother's mate;But this our Juno, sister, wifeOf our august prince, why is she driven285From her father's court? Of what availHer faith, her father deified,Her love and spotless chastity?We, too, of our former master's fameHave been unmindful, and his childAt the hest of cringing[56]fear betrayed.290Not so of old: then Rome could boastOf manly virtue, martial blood.There lived a race of heroes thenWho curbed the power of haughty kingsAnd drove them forth from Rome; and thee,O maiden, slain by thy father's hand,295Lest thou shouldst in slavery's bonds be held,And lest foul lust its victorious willShould work on thee, did well avenge.Thee, too, a bloody war avenged,O chaste Lucretia; for thou,300By the lust of an impious tyrant stained,With wretched hand didst seek to cleanseThose stains by thy innocent blood.Then Tullia with her guilty lord,Base Tarquin, dared an impious deed,Whose penalty they paid; for she305Over the limbs of her murdered sire,A heartless child, drove cruel wheels,And left his corpse unburied there.Such deeds of dire impietyOur age has known, our eyes have seen,When the prince on the mighty Tyrrhene deep310In a fatal bark his mother sent,By guile ensnared.The sailors at his bidding hasteTo leave the peaceful harbor's arms;And soon the rougher waves resound315Beneath their oars, and far awayUpon the deep the vessel glides;When suddenly the reeling barkWith loosened beams yawns open wide,And drinks the briny sea.A mighty shout to heaven goes,320With women's lamentations filled,And death stalks dire before the eyesOf all. Each seeks to save himself.Some naked cling upon the planksOf the broken ship and fight the floods,325While others swimming seek the shore.But most, alas! a watery deathBy fate awaits. Then did the queenIn mad despair her garments rend;Her comely locks she tore, and tearsFell streaming down her grieving cheeks.330At last, with hope of safety gone,With wrath inflamed, by woes o'ercome,"Dost thou, O son, make this return,"She cried, "for that great boon I gave?Such death I merit, I confess,335Who bore such monstrous child as thou,Who gave to thee the light of day,And in my madness raised thee highTo Caesar's name and Caesar's throne.Oh, rise from deepest Acheron,My murdered husband, feast thine eyes340Upon my righteous punishment;For I brought death to thee, poor soul,And to thy son. See, see, I come,Deep down to meet thy grieving shade;And there, as I have merited,Shall I unburied lie, o'erwhelmed345By the raging sea." E'en as she spoke,The lapping waves broke o'er her lips,And deep she plunged below. AnonShe rises from the briny depths,And, stung by fear of death, she strivesWith frenzied hands to conquer fate;But, spent with fruitless toil at last,350She yields and waits the end. But lo,In hearts which in trembling silence watch,Faith triumphs over deadly fear,And to their mistress, spent and wanWith fruitless buffetings, they dareTo lend their aid with cheering words355And helping hands.But what availsTo escape the grasp of the savage sea?By the sword of the son is she doomed to die,Whose monstrous deed posterityWill scarce believe. With rage and grief360Inflamed, he raves that still she lives,His mother, snatched from the wild sea's jaws,And doubles crime on impious crime.Bent on his wretched mother's death,He brooks no tarrying of fate.365His willing creatures work his will,And in the hapless woman's breastThe fatal sword is plunged; but sheTo that fell minister of deathAppeals with dying tongue: "Nay here,Here rather strike the murderous blow,Here sheathe thy sword, deep in the womb370Which such a monster bore."So spake the dying queen, her wordsAnd groans commingling. So at lastThrough gaping wounds her spirit fled375In grief and agony.

Chorus[sympathetic withOctavia]: False prove the rumor that of late

To our ears has come! May its vaunted threats

Fall fruitless out and of no avail!275

May no new wife invade the bed

Of our royal prince; may Octavia, born

Of the Claudian race, maintain her right

And bear us a son, the pledge of peace,

In which the joyful world shall rest,280

And Rome preserve her glorious name.

Most mighty Juno holds the lot

By fate assigned—her brother's mate;

But this our Juno, sister, wife

Of our august prince, why is she driven285

From her father's court? Of what avail

Her faith, her father deified,

Her love and spotless chastity?

We, too, of our former master's fame

Have been unmindful, and his child

At the hest of cringing[56]fear betrayed.290

Not so of old: then Rome could boast

Of manly virtue, martial blood.

There lived a race of heroes then

Who curbed the power of haughty kings

And drove them forth from Rome; and thee,

O maiden, slain by thy father's hand,295

Lest thou shouldst in slavery's bonds be held,

And lest foul lust its victorious will

Should work on thee, did well avenge.

Thee, too, a bloody war avenged,

O chaste Lucretia; for thou,300

By the lust of an impious tyrant stained,

With wretched hand didst seek to cleanse

Those stains by thy innocent blood.

Then Tullia with her guilty lord,

Base Tarquin, dared an impious deed,

Whose penalty they paid; for she305

Over the limbs of her murdered sire,

A heartless child, drove cruel wheels,

And left his corpse unburied there.

Such deeds of dire impiety

Our age has known, our eyes have seen,

When the prince on the mighty Tyrrhene deep310

In a fatal bark his mother sent,

By guile ensnared.

The sailors at his bidding haste

To leave the peaceful harbor's arms;

And soon the rougher waves resound315

Beneath their oars, and far away

Upon the deep the vessel glides;

When suddenly the reeling bark

With loosened beams yawns open wide,

And drinks the briny sea.

A mighty shout to heaven goes,320

With women's lamentations filled,

And death stalks dire before the eyes

Of all. Each seeks to save himself.

Some naked cling upon the planks

Of the broken ship and fight the floods,325

While others swimming seek the shore.

But most, alas! a watery death

By fate awaits. Then did the queen

In mad despair her garments rend;

Her comely locks she tore, and tears

Fell streaming down her grieving cheeks.330

At last, with hope of safety gone,

With wrath inflamed, by woes o'ercome,

"Dost thou, O son, make this return,"

She cried, "for that great boon I gave?

Such death I merit, I confess,335

Who bore such monstrous child as thou,

Who gave to thee the light of day,

And in my madness raised thee high

To Caesar's name and Caesar's throne.

Oh, rise from deepest Acheron,

My murdered husband, feast thine eyes340

Upon my righteous punishment;

For I brought death to thee, poor soul,

And to thy son. See, see, I come,

Deep down to meet thy grieving shade;

And there, as I have merited,

Shall I unburied lie, o'erwhelmed345

By the raging sea." E'en as she spoke,

The lapping waves broke o'er her lips,

And deep she plunged below. Anon

She rises from the briny depths,

And, stung by fear of death, she strives

With frenzied hands to conquer fate;

But, spent with fruitless toil at last,350

She yields and waits the end. But lo,

In hearts which in trembling silence watch,

Faith triumphs over deadly fear,

And to their mistress, spent and wan

With fruitless buffetings, they dare

To lend their aid with cheering words355

And helping hands.

But what avails

To escape the grasp of the savage sea?

By the sword of the son is she doomed to die,

Whose monstrous deed posterity

Will scarce believe. With rage and grief360

Inflamed, he raves that still she lives,

His mother, snatched from the wild sea's jaws,

And doubles crime on impious crime.

Bent on his wretched mother's death,

He brooks no tarrying of fate.365

His willing creatures work his will,

And in the hapless woman's breast

The fatal sword is plunged; but she

To that fell minister of death

Appeals with dying tongue: "Nay here,

Here rather strike the murderous blow,

Here sheathe thy sword, deep in the womb370

Which such a monster bore."

So spake the dying queen, her words

And groans commingling. So at last

Through gaping wounds her spirit fled375

In grief and agony.

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