Nurse.Up! up! Medea! Swiftly flee the landOf Pelops; seek in haste a distant shore.Medea.Shall I fly? I? Were I already goneI would return for this, that I might seeThese new betrothals. Dost thou pause, my soul?855This joy's but the beginning of revenge.Thou dost but love if thou art satisfiedTo widow Jason. Seek new penalties,Honor is gone and maiden modesty,—It were a light revenge pure hands could yield.860Strengthen thy drooping spirit, stir up wrath,Drain from thy heart its all of ancient force,Thy deeds till now call honor; wake, and act,That they may see how light, how little worth,All former crime—the prelude of revenge!865What was there great my novice hands could dare?What was the madness of my girlhood days?I am Medea now, through sorrow strong.Rejoice, because through thee thy brother died;Rejoice, because through thee his limbs were torn,870Through thee thy father lost the golden fleece;Rejoice, that armed by thee his daughters slewOld Pelias! Seek revenge! No novice handThou bring'st to crime; what wilt thou do; what dartLet fly against thy hated enemy?875I know not what my maddened spirit plots,Nor yet dare I confess it to myself!In folly I made haste—would that my foeHad children by this other! Mine are his,We'll say Creusa bore them! 'Tis enough;880Through them my heart at last finds full revenge;My soul must be prepared for this last crime.Ye who were once my children, mine no more,Ye pay the forfeit for your father's crimes.Awe strikes my spirit and benumbs my hand;885My heart beats wildly; mother-love drives outHate of my husband; shall I shed their blood—My children's blood? Demented one, rage not,Be far from thee this crime! What guilt is theirs?Is Jason not their father?—guilt enough!890And worse, Medea claims them as her sons.They are not sons of mine, so let them die!Nay, rather let them perish since they are!But they are innocent—my brother was!Fear'st thou? Do tears already mar thy cheek?895Do wrath and love like adverse tides impelNow here, now there? As when the winds wage war,And the wild waves against each other smite,My heart is beaten; duty drives out fear,As wrath drives duty. Anger dies in love.900Dear sons, sole solace of a storm-tossed house,Come hither, he may have you safe if IMay claim you too! But he has banished me;Already from my bosom torn awayThey go lamenting—perish then to both,905To him as me! My wrath again grows hot;Furies, I go wherever you may lead.Would that the children of the haughty childOf Tantalus were mine, that I had borneTwice seven sons! In bearing only two910I have been cursed! And yet it is enoughFor father, brother, that I have borne two.—Where does that horde of furies haste? whom seek?For whom prepare their fires? or for whomIntends the infernal band its bloody torch?915Whom does Megaera seek with hostile brand?The mighty dragon lashes its fierce tail—What shade uncertain brings its scattered limbs?It is my brother, and he seeks revenge;I grant it, thrust the torches in my eyes;920Kill, burn, the furies have me in their power!Brother, command the avenging goddessesTo leave me, and the shades to seek their placeIn the infernal regions without fear;Here leave me to myself, and use this hand925That held the sword—your soul has found revenge. [Kills one of her sons.What is the sudden noise? They come in armsAnd think to drive me into banishment.I will go up on the high roof, come thou;I'll take the body with me. Now my soul,930Strike! hold not hid thy power, but show the worldWhat thou art able.
Nurse.Up! up! Medea! Swiftly flee the landOf Pelops; seek in haste a distant shore.
Medea.Shall I fly? I? Were I already goneI would return for this, that I might seeThese new betrothals. Dost thou pause, my soul?855This joy's but the beginning of revenge.Thou dost but love if thou art satisfiedTo widow Jason. Seek new penalties,Honor is gone and maiden modesty,—It were a light revenge pure hands could yield.860Strengthen thy drooping spirit, stir up wrath,Drain from thy heart its all of ancient force,Thy deeds till now call honor; wake, and act,That they may see how light, how little worth,All former crime—the prelude of revenge!865What was there great my novice hands could dare?What was the madness of my girlhood days?I am Medea now, through sorrow strong.Rejoice, because through thee thy brother died;Rejoice, because through thee his limbs were torn,870Through thee thy father lost the golden fleece;Rejoice, that armed by thee his daughters slewOld Pelias! Seek revenge! No novice handThou bring'st to crime; what wilt thou do; what dartLet fly against thy hated enemy?875I know not what my maddened spirit plots,Nor yet dare I confess it to myself!In folly I made haste—would that my foeHad children by this other! Mine are his,We'll say Creusa bore them! 'Tis enough;880Through them my heart at last finds full revenge;My soul must be prepared for this last crime.Ye who were once my children, mine no more,Ye pay the forfeit for your father's crimes.Awe strikes my spirit and benumbs my hand;885My heart beats wildly; mother-love drives outHate of my husband; shall I shed their blood—My children's blood? Demented one, rage not,Be far from thee this crime! What guilt is theirs?Is Jason not their father?—guilt enough!890And worse, Medea claims them as her sons.They are not sons of mine, so let them die!Nay, rather let them perish since they are!But they are innocent—my brother was!Fear'st thou? Do tears already mar thy cheek?895Do wrath and love like adverse tides impelNow here, now there? As when the winds wage war,And the wild waves against each other smite,My heart is beaten; duty drives out fear,As wrath drives duty. Anger dies in love.900Dear sons, sole solace of a storm-tossed house,Come hither, he may have you safe if IMay claim you too! But he has banished me;Already from my bosom torn awayThey go lamenting—perish then to both,905To him as me! My wrath again grows hot;Furies, I go wherever you may lead.Would that the children of the haughty childOf Tantalus were mine, that I had borneTwice seven sons! In bearing only two910I have been cursed! And yet it is enoughFor father, brother, that I have borne two.—Where does that horde of furies haste? whom seek?For whom prepare their fires? or for whomIntends the infernal band its bloody torch?915Whom does Megaera seek with hostile brand?The mighty dragon lashes its fierce tail—What shade uncertain brings its scattered limbs?It is my brother, and he seeks revenge;I grant it, thrust the torches in my eyes;920Kill, burn, the furies have me in their power!Brother, command the avenging goddessesTo leave me, and the shades to seek their placeIn the infernal regions without fear;Here leave me to myself, and use this hand925That held the sword—your soul has found revenge. [Kills one of her sons.What is the sudden noise? They come in armsAnd think to drive me into banishment.I will go up on the high roof, come thou;I'll take the body with me. Now my soul,930Strike! hold not hid thy power, but show the worldWhat thou art able.
[She goes out with the nurse and the living boy, and carries with her the body of her dead son.
Jason in the foreground, Medea with the children appears upon the roof.
Jason.Ye faithful ones, who shareIn the misfortunes of your harassed king,Hasten to take the author of these deeds.935Come hither, hither, cohorts of brave men;Bring up your weapons; overthrow the house.Medea.I have recaptured now my crown and throne,My brother and my father; Colchians holdThe golden fleece; my kingdom is won back;940My lost virginity returns to me!O gods appeased, marriage, and happy days,Go now,—my vengeance is complete! Not yet—Finish it while thy hands are strong to strike.Why seek delay? Why hesitate, my soul?945Thou art able! All thine anger falls to nought!I do repent of that which I have done!Why did'st thou do it, miserable one?Yea, miserable! Ruth shall follow thee!'Tis done, great joy fills my unwilling heart,950And, lo, the joy increases. But one thingBefore was lacking—Jason did not see!All that he has not seen I count as lost.Jason.She threatens from the roof; let fire be brought,That she may perish burned with her own flame.955Medea.Pile high the funeral pyre of thy sons,And rear their tomb. To Creon and thy wifeI have already paid the honors due.This son is dead, and this shall soon be so,And thou shalt see him perish.960Jason.By the gods,By our sad flight together, and the bondI have not willingly forsaken, spareOur son! If there is any crime, 'tis mine;Put me to death, strike down the guilty one.Medea.There where thou askest mercy, and canst feel965The sting, I thrust the sword. Go, Jason, seekThy virgin bride, desert a mother's bed.Jason.Let one suffice for vengeance.Medea.Had it beenThat one could satisfy my hands with blood,I had slain none. But two is not enough.970Jason.Then go, fill up the measure of thy crime,I ask for nothing but that thou should'st makeA speedy end.Medea.Now, grief, take slow revenge;It is my day; haste not, let me enjoy.
Jason.Ye faithful ones, who shareIn the misfortunes of your harassed king,Hasten to take the author of these deeds.935Come hither, hither, cohorts of brave men;Bring up your weapons; overthrow the house.
Medea.I have recaptured now my crown and throne,My brother and my father; Colchians holdThe golden fleece; my kingdom is won back;940My lost virginity returns to me!O gods appeased, marriage, and happy days,Go now,—my vengeance is complete! Not yet—Finish it while thy hands are strong to strike.Why seek delay? Why hesitate, my soul?945Thou art able! All thine anger falls to nought!I do repent of that which I have done!Why did'st thou do it, miserable one?Yea, miserable! Ruth shall follow thee!'Tis done, great joy fills my unwilling heart,950And, lo, the joy increases. But one thingBefore was lacking—Jason did not see!All that he has not seen I count as lost.
Jason.She threatens from the roof; let fire be brought,That she may perish burned with her own flame.955
Medea.Pile high the funeral pyre of thy sons,And rear their tomb. To Creon and thy wifeI have already paid the honors due.This son is dead, and this shall soon be so,And thou shalt see him perish.960
Jason.By the gods,By our sad flight together, and the bondI have not willingly forsaken, spareOur son! If there is any crime, 'tis mine;Put me to death, strike down the guilty one.
Medea.There where thou askest mercy, and canst feel965The sting, I thrust the sword. Go, Jason, seekThy virgin bride, desert a mother's bed.
Jason.Let one suffice for vengeance.
Medea.Had it beenThat one could satisfy my hands with blood,I had slain none. But two is not enough.970
Jason.Then go, fill up the measure of thy crime,I ask for nothing but that thou should'st makeA speedy end.
Medea.Now, grief, take slow revenge;It is my day; haste not, let me enjoy.
[Kills the other child.
Jason.Slay me, mine enemy!975Medea.Dost thou imploreMy pity? It is well! I am avenged.Grief, there is nothing more that thou canst slay!Look up, ungrateful Jason, recognizeThy wife; so I am wont to flee. The wayLies open through the skies; two dragons bend980Their necks, submissive to the yoke. I goIn my bright car through heaven. Take thy sons!
Jason.Slay me, mine enemy!975
Medea.Dost thou imploreMy pity? It is well! I am avenged.Grief, there is nothing more that thou canst slay!Look up, ungrateful Jason, recognizeThy wife; so I am wont to flee. The wayLies open through the skies; two dragons bend980Their necks, submissive to the yoke. I goIn my bright car through heaven. Take thy sons!
[She casts down to him the bodies of her children, and is borne away in a chariot drawn by dragons.
Jason.Go through the skies sublime, and going proveThat the gods dwell not in the heavens you seek.984
Jason.Go through the skies sublime, and going proveThat the gods dwell not in the heavens you seek.984
Agamemnon.Ulysses.Pyrrhus.Calchas.Talthybius.Astyanax.Hecuba.Andromache.Helen.Polyxena.An Old Man.Messenger.Chorus of Trojan Women.
Scene—Troy.
THE DAUGHTERS OF TROY
Hecuba.Let him who puts his trust in kingly crown,Who rules in prince's court with power supreme,Who, credulous of heart, dreads not the gods,But in his happy lot confides, beholdMy fate and Troy's. Never by clearer proof5Was shown how frail a thing is human pride.Strong Asia's capital, the work of gods,Is fallen; and she beneath whose banners foughtThe men who drink the Tanais' cold streamThat flows by sevenfold outlet to the sea,10And those who see the new-born day where blendsTigris' warm waters with the blushing strait,Is fallen; her walls and towers, to ashes burned,Lie low amid her ruined palaces.The flames destroy the city; far and near15Smolders the home of King Assaracus.But flames stay not the eager conqueror's handFrom plundering Troy. The sky is hid with smoke;And day, as though enveloped in black cloud,Is dark with ashes. Eager for revenge,20The victor stands and measures her slow fall;Forgets the long ten years; deplores her fate;Nor yet believes that he has vanquished her,Although he sees her conquered in the dust.The pillagers are busy with the spoil;25A thousand ships will hardly bear it hence.Witness, ye adverse deities; and ye,My country's ashes, and thou, Phrygia's king,Buried beneath the ruins of thy realm;Ye spirits of the mighty, in whose life30Troy lived; and ye my offspring, lesser shades;—Whatever ills have happened; whatsoe'erThe priestess of Apollo, to whose wordThe god denied belief, has prophesied,I, going great with child, have earlier feared,35Nor feared in silence, though in vain I spoke;—Cassandra too has prophesied in vain.Alas, 'twas not the crafty Ithacan,Nor the companions of his night attack,Nor Sinon false, who flung into your midst40Devouring flame; the glowing torch was mine!Aged, and sick of life, why weep for Troy?Unhappy one, recall more recent woes;The fall of Troy is now an ancient grief!I've seen the murder of a king—base crime!45And, at the altar's foot allowed, I've seenA baser crime, when Æacus' fierce son,His left hand in the twisted locks, bent backThat royal head, and drove the iron homeIn the deep wound; freely it was received,50And buried deep, and yet drawn forth unstained,So sluggish is the blood of frozen age.This old man's cruel death at the last meteOf human life; and the immortal gods,Witnesses of the deed; and fallen Troy's55Fair altars, cannot stay the savage hand.Priam, the father of so many kings,Has found no grave, and in the flames of TroyNo funeral pyre, and yet the wrathful godsAre not appeased; behold, the lot is cast60That gives to Priam's daughters and his sonsA master; and I go to servitude.This one seeks Hector's wife, this Helenus';And this Antenor's; nor are wanting thoseWho long for thee, Cassandra; me alone65They shun, and I alone affright the Greeks.Why cease your lamentations, captive ones?Make moan, and smite your breasts, pay funeral rites;Let fatal Ida, home of your harsh judge,Reëcho long your sorrowful lament.70
Hecuba.Let him who puts his trust in kingly crown,Who rules in prince's court with power supreme,Who, credulous of heart, dreads not the gods,But in his happy lot confides, beholdMy fate and Troy's. Never by clearer proof5Was shown how frail a thing is human pride.Strong Asia's capital, the work of gods,Is fallen; and she beneath whose banners foughtThe men who drink the Tanais' cold streamThat flows by sevenfold outlet to the sea,10And those who see the new-born day where blendsTigris' warm waters with the blushing strait,Is fallen; her walls and towers, to ashes burned,Lie low amid her ruined palaces.The flames destroy the city; far and near15Smolders the home of King Assaracus.But flames stay not the eager conqueror's handFrom plundering Troy. The sky is hid with smoke;And day, as though enveloped in black cloud,Is dark with ashes. Eager for revenge,20The victor stands and measures her slow fall;Forgets the long ten years; deplores her fate;Nor yet believes that he has vanquished her,Although he sees her conquered in the dust.The pillagers are busy with the spoil;25A thousand ships will hardly bear it hence.Witness, ye adverse deities; and ye,My country's ashes, and thou, Phrygia's king,Buried beneath the ruins of thy realm;Ye spirits of the mighty, in whose life30Troy lived; and ye my offspring, lesser shades;—Whatever ills have happened; whatsoe'erThe priestess of Apollo, to whose wordThe god denied belief, has prophesied,I, going great with child, have earlier feared,35Nor feared in silence, though in vain I spoke;—Cassandra too has prophesied in vain.Alas, 'twas not the crafty Ithacan,Nor the companions of his night attack,Nor Sinon false, who flung into your midst40Devouring flame; the glowing torch was mine!Aged, and sick of life, why weep for Troy?Unhappy one, recall more recent woes;The fall of Troy is now an ancient grief!I've seen the murder of a king—base crime!45And, at the altar's foot allowed, I've seenA baser crime, when Æacus' fierce son,His left hand in the twisted locks, bent backThat royal head, and drove the iron homeIn the deep wound; freely it was received,50And buried deep, and yet drawn forth unstained,So sluggish is the blood of frozen age.This old man's cruel death at the last meteOf human life; and the immortal gods,Witnesses of the deed; and fallen Troy's55Fair altars, cannot stay the savage hand.Priam, the father of so many kings,Has found no grave, and in the flames of TroyNo funeral pyre, and yet the wrathful godsAre not appeased; behold, the lot is cast60That gives to Priam's daughters and his sonsA master; and I go to servitude.This one seeks Hector's wife, this Helenus';And this Antenor's; nor are wanting thoseWho long for thee, Cassandra; me alone65They shun, and I alone affright the Greeks.Why cease your lamentations, captive ones?Make moan, and smite your breasts, pay funeral rites;Let fatal Ida, home of your harsh judge,Reëcho long your sorrowful lament.70
Hecuba, Chorus of Trojan Women.
Chorus.You bid those weep who are not new to grief;Our lamentations have not ceased to riseFrom that day when the Phrygian stranger soughtGrecian Amyclæ; and the sacred pineOf Mother Cybele, through Grecian seas75A pathway cut. Ten times the winter snowsHave whitened Ida—Ida stripped of treesTo furnish Trojan dead with funeral pyres—Ten times the trembling reaper has gone forthTo cut the bearded grain from Ilium's fields,80Since any day has seen us free from tears.New sorrows ask new mourning, lift thy handAnd beat upon thy breast: thy followers, queen,Are not inept at weeping.Hecuba.Faithful ones,Companions of my grief, unbind your hair;85About your shoulders let it flow defiledWith Troy's hot ashes; come with breast exposed,Carelessly loosened robes, and naked limbs;Why veil your modest bosoms, captive ones?Gird up your flowing tunics, free your hands90For fierce and frequent beating of your breasts.So I am satisfied, I recognizeMy Trojan followers; again I hearTheir wonted lamentations. Weep indeed;We weep for Hector.95Chorus.We unbind our hair,So often torn in wild laments, and strewTroy's glowing ashes on our heads; permitOur loosened robe to drop from shoulders bare;Our naked bosoms now invite our blows.O sorrow, show thy power; let Rhœta's shores100Give back the blows, nor from her hollow hillsFaint Echo sound the closing words alone,But let her voice repeat each bitter groan,And earth and ocean hear. With cruel blowsSmite, smite, nor be content with faint laments:105We weep for Hector.Hecuba.For thee our hands have torn our naked armsAnd bleeding shoulders; Hector, 'tis for theeWe beat our brows and lacerate our breasts;The wounds inflicted in thy funeral rites110Still gape and flow with blood. Thou, Hector, wastThe pillar of thy land, her fates' delay,The prop of wearied Phrygians, and the wallOf Troy; by thee supported, firm she stood,Ten years upheld. With thee thy country fell,115Her day of doom and Hector's were the same.Weep now for Priam, smite for him your breasts;Hector has tears enough.Chorus.Pilot of Phrygia, twice a captive made,Receive our tears, receive our wild laments.120Whilst thou wast king, Troy suffered many woes;Twice by Greek weapons were her walls assailed;Twice were they made a target for the dartsOf Hercules; and when that kingly band,Hecuba's offspring, had been offered up,125With thee, their sire, the funeral rites were stayed;An offering to great Jove, thy headless trunkLies on Sigea's plain.Hecuba.Women of Troy,For others shed your tears; not Priam's deathI weep; say rather all, thrice happy he!130Free he descended to the land of shades,Nor will he ever bear on conquered neckThe Grecian yoke; nor the Atrides see;Nor look on shrewd Ulysses; nor, a slave,Carry the trophies on his neck to grace135A Grecian triumph; feel his sceptered handsBound at his back; nor add a further pompTo proud Mycene, forced in golden chainsTo follow Agamemnon's royal car.Chorus.Thrice happy Priam! as a king he went140Into the land of spirits; wanders nowThrough the safe shadows of Elysian Fields,In happiness among the peaceful shades,And seeks for Hector. Happy Priam say!Thrice happy he, who, dying in the fight,145Bears with him to destruction all his land.
Chorus.You bid those weep who are not new to grief;Our lamentations have not ceased to riseFrom that day when the Phrygian stranger soughtGrecian Amyclæ; and the sacred pineOf Mother Cybele, through Grecian seas75A pathway cut. Ten times the winter snowsHave whitened Ida—Ida stripped of treesTo furnish Trojan dead with funeral pyres—Ten times the trembling reaper has gone forthTo cut the bearded grain from Ilium's fields,80Since any day has seen us free from tears.New sorrows ask new mourning, lift thy handAnd beat upon thy breast: thy followers, queen,Are not inept at weeping.
Hecuba.Faithful ones,Companions of my grief, unbind your hair;85About your shoulders let it flow defiledWith Troy's hot ashes; come with breast exposed,Carelessly loosened robes, and naked limbs;Why veil your modest bosoms, captive ones?Gird up your flowing tunics, free your hands90For fierce and frequent beating of your breasts.So I am satisfied, I recognizeMy Trojan followers; again I hearTheir wonted lamentations. Weep indeed;We weep for Hector.95
Chorus.We unbind our hair,So often torn in wild laments, and strewTroy's glowing ashes on our heads; permitOur loosened robe to drop from shoulders bare;Our naked bosoms now invite our blows.O sorrow, show thy power; let Rhœta's shores100Give back the blows, nor from her hollow hillsFaint Echo sound the closing words alone,But let her voice repeat each bitter groan,And earth and ocean hear. With cruel blowsSmite, smite, nor be content with faint laments:105We weep for Hector.
Hecuba.For thee our hands have torn our naked armsAnd bleeding shoulders; Hector, 'tis for theeWe beat our brows and lacerate our breasts;The wounds inflicted in thy funeral rites110Still gape and flow with blood. Thou, Hector, wastThe pillar of thy land, her fates' delay,The prop of wearied Phrygians, and the wallOf Troy; by thee supported, firm she stood,Ten years upheld. With thee thy country fell,115Her day of doom and Hector's were the same.Weep now for Priam, smite for him your breasts;Hector has tears enough.
Chorus.Pilot of Phrygia, twice a captive made,Receive our tears, receive our wild laments.120Whilst thou wast king, Troy suffered many woes;Twice by Greek weapons were her walls assailed;Twice were they made a target for the dartsOf Hercules; and when that kingly band,Hecuba's offspring, had been offered up,125With thee, their sire, the funeral rites were stayed;An offering to great Jove, thy headless trunkLies on Sigea's plain.
Hecuba.Women of Troy,For others shed your tears; not Priam's deathI weep; say rather all, thrice happy he!130Free he descended to the land of shades,Nor will he ever bear on conquered neckThe Grecian yoke; nor the Atrides see;Nor look on shrewd Ulysses; nor, a slave,Carry the trophies on his neck to grace135A Grecian triumph; feel his sceptered handsBound at his back; nor add a further pompTo proud Mycene, forced in golden chainsTo follow Agamemnon's royal car.
Chorus.Thrice happy Priam! as a king he went140Into the land of spirits; wanders nowThrough the safe shadows of Elysian Fields,In happiness among the peaceful shades,And seeks for Hector. Happy Priam say!Thrice happy he, who, dying in the fight,145Bears with him to destruction all his land.
Talthybius, Chorus of Trojan Women.
Talthybius.O long delay, that holds the Greeks in port,Whether they seek for war or for their homes.Chorus.Say what the reason of the long delay,What god forbids the Greeks the homeward road?150Talthybius.I tremble, and my spirit shrinks with fear;Such prodigies will hardly find belief.I saw them, I myself; Titan had touchedThe mountain summits, dayspring conquered night,When, on a sudden, with a muttered groan,155Earth trembled, in the woods the tree-tops shook;The lofty forests and the sacred groveThundered with mighty ruin; Ida's cliffsFell from her summit; nor did earth aloneTremble, the ocean also recognized160Achilles' coming, and laid bare her depths;In the torn earth a gloomy cavern yawned;A way was opened up from ErebusTo upper day; the tomb gave up its dead;The towering shade of the Thessalian chief165Leaped forth as when, preparing for thy fate,O Troy, he put to flight the Thracian host,And struck down Neptune's shining, fair-haired son;Or as when, breathing battle from the field,He filled the rivers with the fallen dead,170And Xanthus wandered over bloody shoalsSeeking slow channels; or as when he stoodIn his proud car, a victor, while he draggedHector and Troy behind him in the dust.His wrathful voice rang out along the shore:175'Go, go, ye slothful ones, pay honors dueMy manes. Let the thankless ships be freedTo sail my seas. Not lightly Greece has feltAchilles' wrath; that wrath shall heavier fall.Polyxena, betrothed to me in death,180Must die a sacrifice at Pyrrhus' hand,And make my tomb glow crimson.' Thus he spake,Shadowed the day with night, and sought againThe realm of Dis. He took the riven path;Earth closed above him, and the tranquil sea185Lay undisturbed, the raging wind was still,Softly the ocean murmured, Tritons sangFrom the blue deep their hymeneal chant.
Talthybius.O long delay, that holds the Greeks in port,Whether they seek for war or for their homes.
Chorus.Say what the reason of the long delay,What god forbids the Greeks the homeward road?150
Talthybius.I tremble, and my spirit shrinks with fear;Such prodigies will hardly find belief.I saw them, I myself; Titan had touchedThe mountain summits, dayspring conquered night,When, on a sudden, with a muttered groan,155Earth trembled, in the woods the tree-tops shook;The lofty forests and the sacred groveThundered with mighty ruin; Ida's cliffsFell from her summit; nor did earth aloneTremble, the ocean also recognized160Achilles' coming, and laid bare her depths;In the torn earth a gloomy cavern yawned;A way was opened up from ErebusTo upper day; the tomb gave up its dead;The towering shade of the Thessalian chief165Leaped forth as when, preparing for thy fate,O Troy, he put to flight the Thracian host,And struck down Neptune's shining, fair-haired son;Or as when, breathing battle from the field,He filled the rivers with the fallen dead,170And Xanthus wandered over bloody shoalsSeeking slow channels; or as when he stoodIn his proud car, a victor, while he draggedHector and Troy behind him in the dust.His wrathful voice rang out along the shore:175'Go, go, ye slothful ones, pay honors dueMy manes. Let the thankless ships be freedTo sail my seas. Not lightly Greece has feltAchilles' wrath; that wrath shall heavier fall.Polyxena, betrothed to me in death,180Must die a sacrifice at Pyrrhus' hand,And make my tomb glow crimson.' Thus he spake,Shadowed the day with night, and sought againThe realm of Dis. He took the riven path;Earth closed above him, and the tranquil sea185Lay undisturbed, the raging wind was still,Softly the ocean murmured, Tritons sangFrom the blue deep their hymeneal chant.
Agamemnon, Pyrrhus.
Pyrrhus.When, homeward turning, you would fain have spreadYour happy sails, Achilles was forgot.190By him alone struck down, Troy fell; her fall,Ev'n at his death, was but so long delayedAs she stood doubtful whither she should fall;Haste as you will to give him what he asksYou give too late. Already all the chiefs195Have carried off their prizes; what rewardOf lesser price have you to offer himFor so great valor? Does he merit less?He, bidden shun the battle and enjoyA long and happy age, outnumbering200The many years of Pylos' aged king,Threw off his mother's mantle, stood confessedA man of arms. When Telephus in vainRefused Achilles entrance to the coastOf rocky Mysia, with his royal blood205He stained Achilles' hand, but found that handGentle as strong. When Thebes was overcomeEëtion, its conquered ruler, sawHis realm made captive. With like slaughter fellLittle Lyrnessus, built at Ida's foot;210Briseia's land was captured; Chryse, too,The cause of royal strife, is overthrown;And well-known Tenedos, and Sciro's isleThat, rich with fertile pastures, nourishesThe Thracian herd, and Lesbos that divides215The Ægean straits, Cilla to Phœbus dear,Yes, and whatever land Caïcus lavesWith its green depths of waters. This had beenTo any other, glory, honor, fame,—Achilles is but on the march; so sped220My father, and so great the war he wagedWhile he made ready for his great campaign.Though I were silent of his other deeds,Would it not be enough that Hector died?My father conquered Ilium; as for you,225You have but made it naught. It gives me joyTo speak the praises and illustrious deedsOf my great sire: how Hector in the eyesOf fatherland and father prostrate fell,How Memnon, too, lies slain, whose mother shuns230The gloomy light of day, with pallid cheekMourning his fate; and at his own great deedsAchilles trembles, and, a victor, learnsThat death may touch the children of a god.The Amazons' harsh queen, thy final fear,235Last yielded. Wouldst thou honor worthilyHis mighty arms, then yield him what he will,Though he should ask a virgin from the landOf Argos or Mycene. Dost thou doubt;Too soon content, art loth to offer up240A maiden, Priam's child, to Peleus' son?Thy child was sacrificed to Helenus,'Tis not an unaccustomed gift I ask.Agamemnon.To have no power to check the passions' glowIs ever found a fault of youthful hearts;245That which in others is the zeal of youth,In Pyrrhus is his father's fiery heart.Thus mildly once I stood the savage threatsOf Æacus' fierce son; most patientlyHe bears, who is most strong. With slaughter harsh250Why sprinkle our illustrious leader's shade?Learn first how much the conqueror may do,The conquered suffer. 'Tis the mild endure,But he who harshly rules, rules not for long.The higher Fortune doth exalt a man,255Increasing human power, so much the more—Fearing the gods who too much favor him,And not unmindful of uncertain fate—He should be meek. In conquering, I have learnedHow in a moment greatness is o'erthrown.260Has Trojan triumph too soon made us proud?We stand, we Greeks, in that place whence Troy fell.Imperious I have been, and borne myselfAt times too proudly; Fortune's gifts correctIn me the pride they oft in others rouse.265Priam, thou mak'st me proud, but mak'st me fear.What can I deem my scepter, but a nameMade bright with idle glitter; or my crown,But empty ornament? Fate overthrowsSwiftly, nor will it need a thousand ships,270Perchance, nor ten years' war. I own, indeed,(This can I do, oh Argive land, nor woundThy honor) I have troubled PhrygiaAnd wished her conquered; but I would have stayedThe hand that crushed and laid her in the dust.275A foe enraged, who gains the victoryBy night, checks not his raging at command;Whatever cruel or unworthy deedAppeared in any, anger was the cause—Anger and darkness and the savage sword280Made glad with blood and seeking still for more.All that yet stands of ruined Troy shall stand,Enough of punishment—more than enough—Has been exacted; that a royal maidShould fall, and, offered as a sacrifice285Upon a tomb, should crimson with her bloodThe ashes, and this hateful crime be calledA marriage—I will never suffer it.Upon my head would rest the guilt of all;He who forbids not crime when he has power,290Commands it.Pyrrhus.Shall Achilles then go henceWith empty hand?Agamemnon.No, all shall tell his praise,And unknown lands shall sing his glorious name;And if his shade would take delight in bloodPoured forth upon his ashes, let us slay295A Phrygian sheep, rich sacrifice. No bloodShall flow to cause a sorrowing mother's tears.What fashion this, by which a living soulIs sacrificed to one gone down to hell?Think not to soil thy father's memory300With such revenge, commanding us to payDue reverence with blood.Pyrrhus.Harsh king of kings!So arrogant while favoring fortune smiles,So timid when aught threatens! Is thy heartSo soon inflamed with love and new desire;305And wilt thou bear away from us the spoil?I'll give Achilles back, with this right hand,His victim, and, if thou withholdest her,I'll give a greater, and whom Pyrrhus givesWill prove one worthy. All too long our hand310Has ceased from slaughter, Priam seeks his peer.Agamemnon.That was, indeed, the worthiest warlike actOf Pyrrhus: with relentless hand he slewPriam, whose suppliant prayer Achilles heard.Pyrrhus.We know our father's foes were suppliants,315But Priam made his prayer himself, whilst thou,Not brave to ask, and overcome with fear,Lurked trembling in thy tent, and sought as aidThe intercessions of the IthacanAnd Ajax.Agamemnon.That thy father did not fear,320I own; amid the slaughter of the GreeksAnd burning of the fleet, forgetting war,He idly lay, and with his plectrum touchedLightly his lyre.Pyrrhus.Mighty Hector thenLaughed at thy arms but feared Achilles' song;325By reason of that fear peace reigned supremeIn the Thessalian fleet.Agamemnon.There was in truthDeep peace for Hector's father in that fleet.Pyrrhus.To grant kings life is kingly.Agamemnon.Why wouldst thouWith thy right hand cut short a royal life?330Pyrrhus.Mercy gives often death instead of life.Agamemnon.Mercy seeks now a virgin for the tomb?Pyrrhus.Thou deemst it crime to sacrifice a maid?Agamemnon.More than their children, kings should love their land.Pyrrhus.No law spares captives or denies revenge.335Agamemnon.What law forbids not, honor's self forbids.Pyrrhus.To victors is permitted what they will.Agamemnon.He least should wish to whom is granted most.Pyrrhus.And this thou sayest to us, who ten long yearsHave borne thy heavy yoke, whom my hand freed?340Agamemnon.Is this the boast of Scyros?Pyrrhus.There no stainOf brother's blood is found.Agamemnon.Shut in by waves—Pyrrhus.Nay, but the seas are kin. I know thy house—Yea, Atreus' and Thyestes' noble house!Agamemnon.Son of Achilles ere he was a man,345And of the maid he ravished secretly—Pyrrhus.Of that Achilles, who, by right of race,Through all the world held sway, inheritedThe ocean from his mother, and the shadesFrom Æacus, from Jupiter the sky.350Agamemnon.Achilles, who by Paris' hand was slain.Pyrrhus.One whom the gods attacked not openly.Agamemnon.To curb thy insolence and daring wordsI well were able, but my sword can spareThe conquered.355
Pyrrhus.When, homeward turning, you would fain have spreadYour happy sails, Achilles was forgot.190By him alone struck down, Troy fell; her fall,Ev'n at his death, was but so long delayedAs she stood doubtful whither she should fall;Haste as you will to give him what he asksYou give too late. Already all the chiefs195Have carried off their prizes; what rewardOf lesser price have you to offer himFor so great valor? Does he merit less?He, bidden shun the battle and enjoyA long and happy age, outnumbering200The many years of Pylos' aged king,Threw off his mother's mantle, stood confessedA man of arms. When Telephus in vainRefused Achilles entrance to the coastOf rocky Mysia, with his royal blood205He stained Achilles' hand, but found that handGentle as strong. When Thebes was overcomeEëtion, its conquered ruler, sawHis realm made captive. With like slaughter fellLittle Lyrnessus, built at Ida's foot;210Briseia's land was captured; Chryse, too,The cause of royal strife, is overthrown;And well-known Tenedos, and Sciro's isleThat, rich with fertile pastures, nourishesThe Thracian herd, and Lesbos that divides215The Ægean straits, Cilla to Phœbus dear,Yes, and whatever land Caïcus lavesWith its green depths of waters. This had beenTo any other, glory, honor, fame,—Achilles is but on the march; so sped220My father, and so great the war he wagedWhile he made ready for his great campaign.Though I were silent of his other deeds,Would it not be enough that Hector died?My father conquered Ilium; as for you,225You have but made it naught. It gives me joyTo speak the praises and illustrious deedsOf my great sire: how Hector in the eyesOf fatherland and father prostrate fell,How Memnon, too, lies slain, whose mother shuns230The gloomy light of day, with pallid cheekMourning his fate; and at his own great deedsAchilles trembles, and, a victor, learnsThat death may touch the children of a god.The Amazons' harsh queen, thy final fear,235Last yielded. Wouldst thou honor worthilyHis mighty arms, then yield him what he will,Though he should ask a virgin from the landOf Argos or Mycene. Dost thou doubt;Too soon content, art loth to offer up240A maiden, Priam's child, to Peleus' son?Thy child was sacrificed to Helenus,'Tis not an unaccustomed gift I ask.
Agamemnon.To have no power to check the passions' glowIs ever found a fault of youthful hearts;245That which in others is the zeal of youth,In Pyrrhus is his father's fiery heart.Thus mildly once I stood the savage threatsOf Æacus' fierce son; most patientlyHe bears, who is most strong. With slaughter harsh250Why sprinkle our illustrious leader's shade?Learn first how much the conqueror may do,The conquered suffer. 'Tis the mild endure,But he who harshly rules, rules not for long.The higher Fortune doth exalt a man,255Increasing human power, so much the more—Fearing the gods who too much favor him,And not unmindful of uncertain fate—He should be meek. In conquering, I have learnedHow in a moment greatness is o'erthrown.260Has Trojan triumph too soon made us proud?We stand, we Greeks, in that place whence Troy fell.Imperious I have been, and borne myselfAt times too proudly; Fortune's gifts correctIn me the pride they oft in others rouse.265Priam, thou mak'st me proud, but mak'st me fear.What can I deem my scepter, but a nameMade bright with idle glitter; or my crown,But empty ornament? Fate overthrowsSwiftly, nor will it need a thousand ships,270Perchance, nor ten years' war. I own, indeed,(This can I do, oh Argive land, nor woundThy honor) I have troubled PhrygiaAnd wished her conquered; but I would have stayedThe hand that crushed and laid her in the dust.275A foe enraged, who gains the victoryBy night, checks not his raging at command;Whatever cruel or unworthy deedAppeared in any, anger was the cause—Anger and darkness and the savage sword280Made glad with blood and seeking still for more.All that yet stands of ruined Troy shall stand,Enough of punishment—more than enough—Has been exacted; that a royal maidShould fall, and, offered as a sacrifice285Upon a tomb, should crimson with her bloodThe ashes, and this hateful crime be calledA marriage—I will never suffer it.Upon my head would rest the guilt of all;He who forbids not crime when he has power,290Commands it.
Pyrrhus.Shall Achilles then go henceWith empty hand?
Agamemnon.No, all shall tell his praise,And unknown lands shall sing his glorious name;And if his shade would take delight in bloodPoured forth upon his ashes, let us slay295A Phrygian sheep, rich sacrifice. No bloodShall flow to cause a sorrowing mother's tears.What fashion this, by which a living soulIs sacrificed to one gone down to hell?Think not to soil thy father's memory300With such revenge, commanding us to payDue reverence with blood.
Pyrrhus.Harsh king of kings!So arrogant while favoring fortune smiles,So timid when aught threatens! Is thy heartSo soon inflamed with love and new desire;305And wilt thou bear away from us the spoil?I'll give Achilles back, with this right hand,His victim, and, if thou withholdest her,I'll give a greater, and whom Pyrrhus givesWill prove one worthy. All too long our hand310Has ceased from slaughter, Priam seeks his peer.
Agamemnon.That was, indeed, the worthiest warlike actOf Pyrrhus: with relentless hand he slewPriam, whose suppliant prayer Achilles heard.
Pyrrhus.We know our father's foes were suppliants,315But Priam made his prayer himself, whilst thou,Not brave to ask, and overcome with fear,Lurked trembling in thy tent, and sought as aidThe intercessions of the IthacanAnd Ajax.
Agamemnon.That thy father did not fear,320I own; amid the slaughter of the GreeksAnd burning of the fleet, forgetting war,He idly lay, and with his plectrum touchedLightly his lyre.
Pyrrhus.Mighty Hector thenLaughed at thy arms but feared Achilles' song;325By reason of that fear peace reigned supremeIn the Thessalian fleet.
Agamemnon.There was in truthDeep peace for Hector's father in that fleet.
Pyrrhus.To grant kings life is kingly.
Agamemnon.Why wouldst thouWith thy right hand cut short a royal life?330
Pyrrhus.Mercy gives often death instead of life.
Agamemnon.Mercy seeks now a virgin for the tomb?
Pyrrhus.Thou deemst it crime to sacrifice a maid?
Agamemnon.More than their children, kings should love their land.
Pyrrhus.No law spares captives or denies revenge.335
Agamemnon.What law forbids not, honor's self forbids.
Pyrrhus.To victors is permitted what they will.
Agamemnon.He least should wish to whom is granted most.
Pyrrhus.And this thou sayest to us, who ten long yearsHave borne thy heavy yoke, whom my hand freed?340
Agamemnon.Is this the boast of Scyros?
Pyrrhus.There no stainOf brother's blood is found.
Agamemnon.Shut in by waves—
Pyrrhus.Nay, but the seas are kin. I know thy house—Yea, Atreus' and Thyestes' noble house!
Agamemnon.Son of Achilles ere he was a man,345And of the maid he ravished secretly—
Pyrrhus.Of that Achilles, who, by right of race,Through all the world held sway, inheritedThe ocean from his mother, and the shadesFrom Æacus, from Jupiter the sky.350
Agamemnon.Achilles, who by Paris' hand was slain.
Pyrrhus.One whom the gods attacked not openly.
Agamemnon.To curb thy insolence and daring wordsI well were able, but my sword can spareThe conquered.355
[To some of the soldiers, who surround him.
Call the god's interpreter.
Call the god's interpreter.
[A few of the soldiers go out, Calchas comes in.
Agamemnon, Pyrrhus, Calchas.
Agamemnon.[To Calchas.] Thou, who hast freed the anchors of the fleet;Ended the war's delay; and by thy artsHast opened heaven; to whom the secret thingsRevealed in sacrifice, in shaken earth,And star that draws through heaven its flaming length,360Are messengers of fate; whose words have beenTo me the words of doom; speak, Calchas, tellWhat thing the god commands, and govern usBy thy wise counsels.Calchas.Fate a pathway grantsTo Grecians only at the wonted price.365A virgin must be slain upon the tombOf the Thessalian leader, and adornedIn robes like those Thessalian virgins wearTo grace their bridals, or Ionian maids,Or damsels of Mycene; and the bride370Shall be by Pyrrhus to his father brought—So is she rightly wed. Yet not aloneIs this the cause that holds our ships in port,But blood must flow for blood, and nobler bloodThan thine, Polyxena. Whom fate demands—375Grandchild of Priam, Hector's only son—Hurled headlong from Troy's wall shall meet his death;Then shall our thousand sails make white the strait.
Agamemnon.[To Calchas.] Thou, who hast freed the anchors of the fleet;Ended the war's delay; and by thy artsHast opened heaven; to whom the secret thingsRevealed in sacrifice, in shaken earth,And star that draws through heaven its flaming length,360Are messengers of fate; whose words have beenTo me the words of doom; speak, Calchas, tellWhat thing the god commands, and govern usBy thy wise counsels.
Calchas.Fate a pathway grantsTo Grecians only at the wonted price.365A virgin must be slain upon the tombOf the Thessalian leader, and adornedIn robes like those Thessalian virgins wearTo grace their bridals, or Ionian maids,Or damsels of Mycene; and the bride370Shall be by Pyrrhus to his father brought—So is she rightly wed. Yet not aloneIs this the cause that holds our ships in port,But blood must flow for blood, and nobler bloodThan thine, Polyxena. Whom fate demands—375Grandchild of Priam, Hector's only son—Hurled headlong from Troy's wall shall meet his death;Then shall our thousand sails make white the strait.
Chorus of Trojan Women.