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1854-1919

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olin
MEDEA : ALCESTIS : HIPPOLYTUS.
LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STRERT SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET
THE

MEDEA, ALCESTIS, AND HIPPOLYTUS

OF

EURIPIDES

TRANSLATED INTO BLANK VERSE,
WITH

THE CHORUSES IN LYRIC AND OTHER METRES.

BY THE

REV. HENRY WILLIAMS, B.A.

Formerly Scholar of Jesus College, Oxford.

LONDON:
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
1871.

Lo
$6.

Ab4266

Pe
PREFACH.

Tue TransLations here put before the public are
the growth of upwards of two years of interrupted
labour. They have been written in the intervals of
leisure allowed by graver occupations and more
active duties, and they have been composed at
irregular times, when walking, or riding in railway
carriages, or lying awake at night.

The motive for undertaking so laborious a task
was partly an old lingering fondness for classical
studies surviving my Oxford days, lying far back in
the grey past, and partly the desire to add my quota
to the wide and varied efforts which are now made
to put the Classics into a more spirited and readable
form than can be afforded by a plain prose transla-
tion. I also wished to give the students in the
upper forms of our Public Schools and the Junior
Members of our Universities a version of some
Euripidean Plays that should be at once accurate
and faithful to the original, and at the same time
correspond to it, by rendering what is poetry in
Greek into a poetical dress in our own language.
vi PREFACE.

The result can be nothing better than burlesque
when the highly polished and enraptured utterances
of a Greek bard are transferred into another lan-
guage in the bald form of a prose version.

There are many features in Euripides which
render the attempt to translate him into English
verse a task of no small difficulty. JI mean his
fondness for introducing obscure metaphysical dis-
cussions, and allowing his females and menial ser-
vants to entangle themselves in Ethical problems,
the sense of which it is difficult to master, to say
nothing of putting them in a readable and palatable
form in English verse. In the Plays here presented
to the reader difficulties of this kind have been
frequently met with, and have been dealt with care-
fully ; but, although pains have been taken, I do not
profess to say that I have in each case succeeded in
being at once true to the original and in putting
my version into idiomatic English combined with a
poetical form.

The plan which some translators have lately
adopted, of putting the choruses into unrhymed
lines of different metres and length, has seemed to
me tame and unpleasing; and here the attempt has
been made, at the expense of great toil and much
time, to put the choruses into rhymed lines, the
strophes and antistrophes being generally of one
metre and uniform length. Care has been taken to
select a metre in each case that should answer to,
and in some degree express, the sad or joyous tone
to the speakers in the Choric songs,
PREFACE. vii

I will only add that, although I am aware that at
least two of these Plays have before been translated
into English blank verse, none of them have come
in my way, and I have worked throughout entirely
unaided and independently of the labours of other
pioneers in the same field.

I may observe, in the last place, that certainly no
liberties have been taken with the original, by ad-
mitting any idea into the English version’ which is
not in the text; and as to the very words, there are,
I think, none made use of which are not necessary
to give the full force and beauty of the meaning.
I have endeavoured to adhere throughout to the
object I have had in view, of giving an accurate and
strictly faithful, and at the same time a truly
English and easy-flowing, version of my Author.

September 1871.
CONTENTS.

—+

PAGE

MEDEA. ‘ ; ; : ; ‘ » i

ALCESTIS ‘ ; . : : 7 . 53

G@IPPOLYTUS . : ‘ 3 . . . ; » 95
MEDEA.

 

Norse.

Wout that the hull of Argo ne’er had crossed
The blue Symplegades to reach the land
Of Colchians, nor the pines cut in the groves
Of Pelion e’er had fallen! Would that hands
Of mighty men had never rowed, who came
To fetch the golden skin for Pelias! Then
My mistress never would have sailed amain
Tolchos-wards, in mind inflamed with love
Of Jason; nor had Pelias’ daughters urged
To slay their father, nor had dwelt herself
In this Corinthian land, along with spouse
And offspring, pleasing much the citizens
Whose land she reached in flight, while every way
With Jason she agreed. This policy
Is safest, where the wife with husband lives
In peace. But all things now are full of hate,
And all affection’s ties are out of sorts.
For Jason, faithless to his offspring found,
And to my queen, in royal couches sleeps,
Selecting Creon’s daughter for his wife ;—
E’en his who rules the land. Medea, she,
Careworn, disgraced, aloud proclaims her vows,
And calls to mind the pledge, the right hand’s pledge,
By her most sacred deemed, and calls the gods
To witness what requital she receives
From Jason; and she lies, tasting no food :
To grief she yields her body, and her time

B
2 MEDEA.

She wastes away in tears since she observed

That she by Jason was unjustly used.

She doth not raise her eyes, nor lift her face

From earth ; and when by friends she’s reasoned with,
She, like a stone or ocean-billow, hears :

Saving ‘at times, turning her all-white neck,

Her father loved she wails, or native land,

Or home, all which she left when with the man
She came who now hath slighted her. Distressed,
She proof hath found what blessedness it is

Not to have lost one’s native land: she loathes
Her offspring, nor on seeing them beams she

With joy. At her I tremble, lest she plot

Some mischief new. Wrathful her mood; no wrong
Can she with patience bear. I know her well,

And now I dread lest she her whetted sword
‘Thrust through her vitals (for in silence now

She hath approached the house where furnished is
The marriage-bed), or should the princess slay,

Or him who married her, or lest she come

To greater grief hereafter ; for her mood

Is terrible, nor, did one strive with her,

Could one with ease the victor’s triumph sing.

But lo! her children come, now giving up

Their game of trundling hoops, quite ignorant
What ills their mother bears, for youthful minds

To grief are disinclined.

x £
(Enter Pepacocun.) &<& Co Ceutas,

P, Thou ancient heirloom of thy mistress’ house,
Why at the gates ’bid’st thou in solitude,
Bewailing to thyself thy griefs ? why wills
Medea to be left by thee ?

N. Thou ancient minister of Jason’s sons,

All faithful servants, when their lord’s affairs
Do turn out badly, are themselves distressed ;
zy

MEDEA, 3

And to such pitch of grief have I arrived

That longing strong came o’er me here to stray,
And to the earth and sky my mistress’ woes
Proclaim.

. Doth she not yet, unhappy! cease from groans ?
. I wonder at thy simpleness! her woe

Is but commencing, not in mid career.

P. Poor fool !—if right it be to use such terms

About one’s mistress—how unconscious she
Of ills more recent !

N. What is it, aged man, grudge not to say P

aly

2 8 2 N 2

. "Tis naught; I now regret my former words..
. I pray thee, by thy beard, conceal it not

From me, thy fellow-slave: if-need there be,
[lLkeep-the_matiter close.

eee

. While seeming not to hear, I heard one say

(Entering the rooms for draughts, where oldest men
Assemble near Peirene’s sacred stream)

That Creon, ruler of the land, would drive
Mother and sons from this Corinthian shore.

I know not if the story be correct:

My wish is that such things should not occur.

. Will Jason bear to see his children wronged,

Though with the mother he at variance be P

. Old ties are left for new: no friend is he

To us.

. We are undone, if ere to. dregs we’ve drained

 

Misfortunes old, new griefs be added to them!
Do thou rest still and quiet (for the time
Is not arrived, my mistress this should know).

. Hear you, my son, what part your sire enacts ?

I pray he may not meet an evil doom,
For he my master is; but to his friends
A man unrighteous is he found to be.

. What manis not? Know’st thou but now this fact,

That every nian before his neighbour loves.
B2
ey

4 MEDEA.

Himself; some justly so, and some for gain.
The father cares no more for these his sons,
By reason of another woman’s love.

N. Within proceed, my sons; it shall be well
For you. Do thou, with all speed possible,
Have these removed from hence, nor let them come
Their mother near, in her resentful mood.
But now I saw her glance at them a look
Of hate, as bent on harming them: from wrath
She will not cease, I know full well, till she
On some one hath an onslaught made: her foes,
And not her friends, may she attack.

re ae fa bw we. (Enter Mupea.)

Bf. Unhappy I, and sad with woe ;

Ob! would that death would lay me low.

N. ’Tis so, my children.

Your mother stirs her angry blood,
And lashes on her wrathful mood.
Within the house with speed now hie,
And come not near her angry eye,

Nor her approach ; but watch the turn,
The savage mood and temper stern

Of her audacious mind. Now go
Within with speed; for now I know
The symptoms of a storm appear,
Which fill my mind with deepest fear.
The cloud of her lament which erst
Was raised, ’tis plain, again will burst
With greater rage. What next, I pray,
Shall her mood morose and slow to allay,
Pricked on by ills, at last essay ?

M. Woes have I, hapless, undergone,
Which deeply I might well bemoan.

Ye cursed brood of hateful dam,
Would ye to quick perdition came ;
N.

MEDEA.

May ye, your sire, the house, and all,
A hopeless wreck to ruin fall!
Woe’s me! why should thy offspring bear
In all their father’s sins a share ?
Why dost thou them abhor ?
Alas! my sons, what deep alarm
I suffer, lest ye come to harm.
Relentless are the minds of s of kings.
Seldom restrained, in | many any things
Enjoying rule, reluctant they :
That aught their selfish will should stay.
To live in mediocrity,
And keep with equals company
Is better far. May I attain
ot splendour, fraught so soon with pain ;
ut may.my growing years be blest
ith calm serenity and rest.
To name the name of middle way,
This bears the palm, and wins the day.
In life to use just moderation,
Is best for men in every station.
An earthly state that’s over-high
Doth but to mortal men supply
Excessive power. The angry god,
In jealous wrath, is wont to load
Misfortunes worse on their abode.

 

Cuorvs.

I’ve heard the voice, I’ve heard the cry
Of hapless Colchian, raised on high ;

Not soothed as yet is she! Speak, dame;
The cry. from two-doored chamber came.
With grief I view the house o’erthrown
With present loss. The friendship shown
To me in days of better lot

Shall ne’er be easily forgot.
6 MEDEA.

N. The family’s no more; ’tis come to naught.
Him hath a king’s alliance caught.
Within my mistress wastes her life away,
Not soothed in mind by aught her friends can say.

M. Woe’s me! alas!

May heaven-sent lightning pass

Right through my head. What gain

For me to live? Alas! alas! may I obtain

Release by death, and end the pain

Of hateful life,

With sorrow rife.

O Zeus, and Earth, and Light, dost hear

The mournful wail which in my ear

The hapless bride doth make. Oh! why,

Vain one, doth love for hated bed

Drive thee to number with the dead ?

For this pray not, but if thy spouse

To other wife doth pay his vows,

Be not for that with him irate.

In wrongs like these thy advocate

Zeus’ self shall be. No longer wear

Thy life away with aching care,

For faithless husband cease to pine ;

Redress confide in hands divine.

M. O Themis great and Artemis the pure,
Regard ye what I now endure ?

May I behold my cursed sponse,

Whom once I bound with mighty vows,

His bride, these palaces, and all

To ruin, piecemeal broken, fall.

May vengeance take them ere ’tis long,

And pay them for my previous wrong.

O father! city ! whence, with shame,

Stained with a brother’s blood I came.
N. Hear ye what she now doth say,

How to Themis she doth pray

Ch.

=
MEDEA. 7

(Themis who regards the vow),

And to Zeus whom all men know*
Oath-steward to the earth below ;

My mistress ne’er will vent her spleen,
On matters of importance mean.

CHoRUSs.

Would that in sight she might appear,
And words addressed to her might hear.
That haply she might put aside

Her brooding rage and angry pride;
From me let all unready will

To serve my friends be absent still.

But go—conduct thy mistress near
From out the house, and let her hear
These friendly words. Haste thee and go
Ere she hath time some wrong to do
To those within, for this her spite

Is rising to a dreadful height.

. This I will do, e’en though I fear

That words of mine she will not hear.
To thee I will this boon extend

And this spontaneous favour lend,
Although with look of lioness

When tender whelps she doth caress,
Medea scowl, should servant bear

A message and approach her lair.

Did one of ancient men aver

That ignorant and unwise they were,
Not far from truth he would decline:
In all their feasts of mirth and wine,
They hymns composed which, fraught with glee,
Enhanced the charms of revelry ;

In all the times ladsome life
When and festivals were rife,
8 MEDEA.

And dinner bouts for guests invited,
Then poesy and song united ;

But remedy for hateful grief,

Giving the aching heart relief,

None ever found, or how the pains

Of life to check with varied strains

(The woes whence death and dreadful doom
Ofttimes whole families entomb).

For men ’twere well to soothe their grief,
And find in music’s strains relief ;

But when the feast is furnished well,
Why need they then sweet music’s spell ?
Why need they vainly to prolong

Their festive strains and raise the song ?P
The feast’s rich bounty brings to men
liself sufficient gladness then.

Cuorvs.
I’ve heard the dismal sound of groans,
And how in accents shrill she moans
Her bitter anguish.on the head
Of him—the traitor to her bed—
Her faithless husband. Suffering wrongs,
To Themis she her cries prolongs,
Zeus’ daughter who ’mong men is known
The arbitress of oaths alone :
She who Medea led by night
To Grecian shore, which opposite
Across the salt sea lay, and passed
The briny wave of ocean vast.

Mrpea.
Corinthian women, lest ye should reproach me,
I have come forth from out the palaces.
For many men I’ve known of high repute,
From observation some, and some of them
MEDEA. 9

From others heard of—these, from life’s still course,
Have gained an ill report and got a name

For slothfulness.. But in the eyes of men

There is no justice, if, before a man

Hath learnt one’s real nature, he from sight
Abhor one, though in no wise wronged by him. _.
A stranger should in all things with the state
Conform ; nor have I ever praised the man

Who, through self-will and ignorance, becomes
To the citizens a pest; but this affair

Untoward hath quite disarranged my life.

I am. undone, and having lost life’s joy,

I long to die, my friends ; for he in whom

I once did put true confidence—my spouse—

The very worst of men has proved to be.

Of things which live and have intelligence,

We females are most luckless. First we’re bound
A spouse to buy, at vast expense, and next
Submit to have him for our person’s lord.

This last is worse than former ill—the rub

Lies chiefly here—whether we chance to get

A worthless man or good ; for no fair name

To ps-divorcements bring, nor can we well
Discard our lords; but when the female sex
With laws and novel customs comes to deal,
Each one a seer should be, that, not expert
Herself, she might discern which spouse to choose.
If when we've carefully this laboured out,

A husband dwell with us—not ’gainst the grain
Bearing the yoke, our life is blest; if not,

Tis best to die. A man, if he be weary

Of ’biding with his people within doors,

Going without can from the surfeit ease

His heart, by turning to a friend, or join

Those of an equal age; but for ourselves

On one life we must look. They say of us

4

—

Vv

—_—
10 MEDEA.

That we at home life perilless consume,
While they contend with spear. Ill-judging men!
Thrice would I rather stand beside a shield
Than once bring forth a child. But yet to me
And thee one argument doth not apply.

To thee belongs this town, thy father’s house,
And life’s delight, and the companionship

Of friends. But I am friendless—cityless ;

I have to bear a husband’s scorn—am borne.
A prey from foreign land—am motherless,
And brother lack, or relative that I

From this sad crisis might some shelter find.
This much I’d fain secure of thee—if means
Be found to make my husband render me
Due satisfaction for my wrongs,—and him
Who gave to him his daughter, and the girl
Who married him—a silent tongue to keep.
For other things a woman is but frail ;

She hardly dare to look upon a fight

Or on a sword; but when in married rights
She happens to be wronged, no other mind
Is more ferocious.

Ch. This I will do, for justly on thy spouse
Thou’lt vengeance take, Medea; I no more
Astonished feel that thou thy lot dost wail.
Lo! Creon, ruler of the land, draws nigh,

The harbinger of novel purposes.

(Enter Crzon.)

Cr. Thou sullen one, and with thy spouse enraged,
Medea, from this land a fugitive
I bade thee to depart, and take with thee
Thy offspring twain, and not delay, since I
The arbitrator am of this decree.
Nor shall I wend back to my house again
MEDEA. . Il

Before I cast thee forth from out the bounds
Of this my land.

M. Ab me! I am undone with utter loss,

Cr.

Because my foes let all their cable out,

And from my grief, escape attainable

Is none for me; but yet, though suffering wrong,
This I will ask Creon—Why dost thou drive me
From this land ?

I fear thee (for ’tis needless to disguise [hurt
My words) lest thou should’st work some cruel
Upon my child; and many things combine

To cause this fear. Thyself art wise and skilled
In much iniquity. Thou art annoyed

At having lost thy husband’s wedded love.

And I, moreover, hear that thou dost threat

To do some harm to him who gave the maid,
And to the bridegroom and the bride. Before
I bear this hurt, I’ll be upon my guard.

Better that I should now by thee be slain
Than, wheedled, lady, by thy arguments,
Hereatter deeply groan.

Alas! alas!

The first time this is not, but, Creon, oft

Hath men’s opinion injured me and wrought me
Grievous harm. No man of judgment sound
Should get his children taught to be o’erwise:
For, irrespective of their idle life,

From townsmen they incur a deep dislike.

For if thou dost import fresh novelties,

Not wise, but worthless thou wilt seem to be
To ignorant men, and if thou better judge
Than those who think they know a clever thing,
A nuisance thou wilt prove to all the town.
And I myself this lot partake—to some
Appearing wise I am the butt of hate,

To some I seem a peaceful character,
12

MEDEA.

To others different; but I’m not o’erwise.

So thou dost dread me lest some wrong thou bear:
Not so it is with me, Creon, fear not

That I shall do some wrong to kingly men.
How hast thou injured me? Thou didst bestow
The girl on him thou didst prefer; yet I

My spouse abhor ; but thou, methinks, didst act
In this a prudent part, and now thy luck

I grudge thee not. By all means marry on,
And may ye prosper; but let me remain

This land to dwell in, for I will abide

In silence, though I’m wronged ; for I am crushed
By those who stronger are.

. Things sweet to hear thou say’st: but in my mind

Is deep misgiving lest thou dost devise

Some present plot, and hence I trust thee less
Than I have done before ; as with a man

An angry shrew is easier warded off

Than one who schemes in silence. But begone
With all due speed nor longer parley here.
This matter is determined on, and thou

Hast no contrivance found whereby to stay
With us, as thou to me hast hostile proved.
Nay, do not so, I beg thee by, t knees

And by thy lately married wife.0 [vail

. Thou dost waste words ; thou never could’st pre-

But wilt thou banish me nor heed my prayers ?

. Yes, for I cannot love thee more than kin.

Oh! fatherland, how I recall thee now !

-." My children, next the city, most I prize.

Alas! how great a curse to men is love!

. Just as, [ ween, the issues chance to be.

May’t not escape thee, Zeus, who th’ author is
Of these calamities.

. Begone, vain thing, and free me from my cares.

Myself am full of care, I need no more.
Or.

Cr.

Cr.

Cr.

MEDEA. 18

Soon by the hand of servants thou shalt be
Thrust out by force.

Creon, I pray thee, do not come to that.
Woman, it seems, thou wilt a tumult cause.

To banishment I go, this to avoid

Is not the boon I crave of thee.

Why dost thou, then, compel me and refuse

To leave this land ?

Permit me to remain this single day,

And make my mind up where to banishment
I'll go, and for my offspring refuge find ;

For their own father doth not deign for them
Aught to contrive. Take pity on them; thou
The parent art of sons, and it may be

Thou dost for them some true concernment feel :
As for myself I have no care, whether

To exile I shall go or not: I weep

To see them undergoing ill-success.

My native bent is not tyrannical.

But, by my sympathy for other men,

Myself I’ve injured oft; and lady, now

I’m conscious that I err, but this request

Thou shalt nathless obtain; but, warning take,
If the ensuing torch of the sun-god :
Shall see thee and thy kin within the bounds
Of this my land, then thou shalt die. This word
Is not to be recalled, And now, if stay

Thou must, for one day and no more prolong
Thy stay. Thus no rash deed shalt thou commit,
Of which I stand in fear.

Cuorus.
Unhappy lady !
Alas! with all thy griefs unfortunate,
Wherever wilt thou turn ? what friendly roof,
What house, what land from ills preserving thee,
MEDEA.

Shalt thou find out? On to a trackless sea,
Medea, hath the god conducted thee.

. In all ways ’tis ill done—who will deny ?
But this shall not stand so—suppose it not.
There yet are conflicts with the new-made bride,
And troubles not a few for those who gave
Their child in marriage. Thinkest thou that I
Would on this man have‘ ever fawned,-except
To gain some end or lay some plot. Never
Would I to him have spoken or ev’n touched
Him with my hands; but now, to such extent
Of folly is he come that, whilst he might
Have ruined all my plans by casting me
Out of this land, he hath permitted me
To stay this day, wherein I will lay dead
Three of my foes—the father and the maid
And my own spouse; while, having many roads
To death for them, I know not in what way
I shall at first take it in hand—whether
I shall consume the bridal house with fire,
Or whether I shall pass a sharpened sword
Right through her heart, having with noiseless foot
Approached the house wherein the bridal bed
Is furnished. Yet one possible mishap
To me distasteful is; if I were caught
Scaling the house and laying plots, my death
Would to my foes laughter afford. °Tis best
Tn the straight course to take them off, the one
In which I am most skilled—by poisonous drugs.
Well, grant they’re dead, what state will take me.
What host, affording shelter and a home, [in ?
Shall rescue me within his land? Never
Could it be done. Wherefore some little time
T’ll wait, and if for us appear some tower
Secure, by guile and silently this deed
MEDEA. 15

Inhuman I’ll perform: but if some hap
Without a remedy shall me compel,

T'll take a sword myself, and if I die

I will kill him, and to the utmost point

Of daring I will go. For none of them I vow
By her whom most I worship and have ta’en
For my colleague, Queen Hecate, who dwells

In the recesses of my hearth ; not one

Shall with impunity my soul distress.

Bitter and sorrowful for them I'll make

These nuptials, and I’ll make my own distress
Bitter to them and my expulsion hence.

But let it be: Medea, spare not aught

Of what thou know’st, devising plans and schemes.
Go forward to the height of daring: now

Is bravery’s strife. Dostthou perceive what wrongs
Are thine ? that thou should’st ridicule incur
Through this abhorred and Sisyphean match

Is shameful—thou from noble sire, the Sun, —
By birth descended! But well skilled art thou :
Besides we women are for noble deeds

Most ill-contrived, but for all purposes

Of bad design artificers the best.

CHorus—Strorue (A).

The streams of sacred rivers upward flow,
And justice and all else is backward turned ;

Plans treacherous prevail ’mong men below,
And in the gods all confidenee is spurned.

2, Changed reputation shall yet give us fame;
Renown is coming to the female race :
Our sex, oppressed no more by evil name,

Shall vindicate ere long its worthy place.
16 MEDEA.

AntTIsTROPHE (A).
The Muses now shall stay their ancient chant,
And celebrate no more our perfidy ;
For not to us the chief of song doth grant
From lyre to draw sweet strains of melody.

2. Else I’d have raised a bold responsive lay
Against the race of men: for length of life,
From lapse of time, finds many saws to say
Of human destiny, with chances rife.

Srropue (B).

With maddened heart thou sail’dst away
From thy father’s house for aye,

And ’twixt the double rocks didst glide
Which the ocean-stream divide.

Wretch, unblest with partner’s hand,
Now thou dwell’st on stranger land :
Lost the shelter of thy bed,

All the joys of life are fled :

Hapless and dishonoured queen,

Exiled from the land I ween.

AwrisTROPHE (B).

Gone is the majesty of oaths ;

Now her former home she loathes.

Shame no more in Hellas fair

Dwells—she is vanished into air.

Thy father’s house no more to thee

A haven from thy woes can be:

Other queen of marriage bed

Now is exalted o’er thy head,

Better than thyself to reign

In thy forfeited domain, (Enter Jason.)
MEDEA. 17

JASON.

Not for the first time now, but oft I’ve seen

How savage rage is a resourceless ill ;

For while it lies within thy reach to enjoy

This land and house by bearing quietly

The plans of those who stronger are, yet thou,

Owing to vain expressions, shalt be cast,

Forth from this land. With me ’tis no concern.

Never desist to say that Jason is

' The worst of men. But as to what thou saidst

Against the King, regard it all a gain

That thou art fined by banishment alone.

For me, I’ve ever tried to turn aside

The rage of angry kings, and I have wished

That thou shouldst stay; but thou didst not desist

From thy stupidity, maligning still

The King. Hence thou this land wilt be expelled.

But yet, in spite of this, not failing friends,

I am come, but rather looking to thy good,

Lady, that moneyless or wanting aught

Thou mightest not be driven from this land ;

For in its train fresh hardships not a few

Doth exile draw. And though thou hatest me,

I never could be ill-disposed to thee.

. Oh! worst of men (for this I say of thee,

Next to unmanliness the greatest ill),

Say, hast thou come to me, basest of men ?

Basest to gods, to me, and all the world !

This is not faith, nor confidence, that one

Who friends has wronged, should look them in
the face.

Of all complaints ’mong men, the greatest far

Is want of shame. But yet thou hast done well

To come to me; for I shall feel relieved

In mind when with reproaches I shall load thee,

c
18 MEDEA.

And hearing, thou shalt wince. I will begin
Right from the origin. As all the Greeks

Know well, who in one ship, the Argo, sailed,

I savéd thee, when sent to master bulls

Which breathed with faming breath, and sow the field
With fatal seed: And when I slew the dragon,
Which, circling round the golden skin with coils
Wreathed manifold, watched it with sleepless eye,
To thee a safety light I lifted up.

My father I forsook and home, with zeal

More than with wisdom moved, and came with tliee
To Iolcos, nigh to Pelion. Pelias too

I slew, so that he perished grievously

Beneath his children’s hands. All cause for fear

I put away; and thou, who hast received

These favours at my hands, desertedst me

With children born to thee! And thou hast formed
Alliance new. To wish this match to make

If thou wert childless had been pardonable ;

But now the faith of oaths is vanishéd.

E know not if thou deem’st the gods who then
Bore rule no longer rule, or that new laws

They have laid down for men. Full well I know
Thou art not true tome. Ah! my right hand,
Which thou didst often clasp, and these my knees!
How all in vain by this unrighteous man

I’ve been defiled, and missed my hopes! Go to!
With thee as with a friend I will commune,

Not with a view to benefit by thee,

But yet I’ll do so; for thou shalt appear

More base when questioned. Now, whereshall I direct
My face? Tomy paternal home shall I

Return, and to my fatherland, which I

Forsook when I took up with thee and came
Hither with thee ? or to the daughters sad

Of Pelias shall I go? They would, forsooth,
MEDEA. 19

Admit me to their home, who slew their sire !

Thus then the matter stands. To my own friends
At home I hateful am ; and those who ’re bound
To harm me not, I make mine enemies

By favouring thee. But-thou wilt say, perhaps,
That in return, thou’st made me to be called

A woman blest, ’mong many dames through Greece }
Thee for a spouse I, hapless woman, have:—
Admired and faithful spouse—if I the land

Shall quit, an outcast wight, without a friend,
With my lone sons alone !—A fair reproach.

*T will seem to the bridegroom lately..wed.that these
His sons should roam the land in poverty,

And I, who savéd thee! . . . Why didst thou give,
O Zeus, clear proofs to men of spurious gold ?

But in man’s frame no impress lies whereby

To mark the worthless person from the rest.

Cuorvs.

What direful il], and one that none can cure,
Is wrath, when friends with friends can thus contend.

JASON.

T must not, as it seems, speak carelessly,

But, like a prudent pilot of a ship,

Run out from thy loud-tongued loquaciousness,

With close-reefed sails. © lady, now I think

(As thou dost vaunt thy favour overmuch)

The Cyprian queen alone of gods and men

Was the true saviour of my enterprise :

Thou dost possess a mind subtle enough,

But ’twere a hatefal tale to tell how Love

Compelled thee with his darts, which never miss

Their mark, to rescue me. This argument

I will not too minutely press. As far

As thou hast gained, it stands not ill; Pll prove
a2
20 MEDEA.

Things greater than my rescue thou’st received
And not bestowed on me. Thou first hast made
Hellas thy home, instead of some strange land :
What justice is thou see’st, and how to use

The laws not on the side of might. The Greeks
Have all perceived thou’rt wise, and thou hast won
A reputation large. If thou hadst stayed

In earth’s remotest bounds, of thee no count
Would have been made. Let no amount of gold
Be stored for me at home, nor may I sing

A song sweeter than Orpheus’ strain, unless
Fortune renowned belong to me: I’ve said

So much to thee about my toils. This war

Of words thou didst provoke. As thou hast railed
On me for my late princely match, I'll show

In my ensuing words that, firstly, wise

I was therein; next prudent, then a friend
Important to thy sons and to thyself.

Meanwhile be still. As from the Iolkian shore
Hither I moved, fraught with embarrassments
Not few and difficult, how could I find

A windfall timelier than this, to wed—

An outcast man—the daughter of a king ?

Not to thy couch averse, which gives thee pain,
Nor for a new bride struck with strong desire.
Nor had I wished to cause a rivalry

For offspring ’twixt you both; for those begot
Sufficient are, I find no fault in this:

But that I might live well and not be pinched
With want (knowing that every friend avoids

A pauper), and that I might rear up sons

In manner worthy of my family ;

And raising brothers up to thine own sons,

Put both on equal ground and coupling race
With race, be thus a prosperous man. Thou hast
Some need of offspring; but to me ’tis gain
MEDEA. ar

That thus ‘might the children benefit

Which now I have, by those which I may have
In time to come: and have I planned amiss ?
Not so could’st thou have said had not thy bed
Galled thee. Ye women have to this arrived, ~~
That ye believe ye have all things combined,

So long as nanght disturb your bridal couch;
But if mishap occur to your wedded life,
Things then which do excel and are esteemed
The most, ye count most hateful. Oh that men
Might in some other way produce their young,
And that the female race did not exist;

For thus no ill to man could e’er betide.

Cxorvs.

Though, Jason, thou hast marshalled well thy words,
Yet thou appear’st to me, speaking perhaps

Against thy mind, not rightfully to act,

In that thou hast betrayed thy wife.

MEDEA.

In many ways I truly am opposed

To other fellow-men, for to my mind

The unscrupulous mau, who ready is in speech,
Incurs the greater punishment, for he,

Whilst boasting with his tongue that he can cloak
What is unjust, dares to commit great crimes.
But not o’erwise is he. E’en so forbear,
Specious to be and clever in thy tongue.

One word shall master thee. Thy part it was,
If not an evil man, this match to have made
When thon hadst first persuaded me, and not
Without the cognisance of friends.

JASON.

Thou would’st assist me well by this thy speech,
‘If I confessed to thee forsooth the match.’
22

a

RS

MEDEA.

To thee, who canst not bear to put aside
E’en now the mighty anger from thy breast!
It was not this withheld thee ; but when old
A marriage with a foreigner, like me,

Was likely not to be a fortunate

Event to thee: this was thy motive then.
Now be assured of this ; not for the bride
Did I contract the princely match which now
T’ve done: but wishing, as I said before,
Thee to protect thereby, and to beget

A princely offspring of one parentage

With my own family, who to my house

A strong defence should be.

. Oh! never may the life which bitter is

To me be happy, nor he prosperous be

Who lacerates my mind ! [thus
Know’st thou the way to change thy prayer, and
The wiser to appear. ‘May good things ne’er
To me seem bitter, nor may one doing well

Seem to herself to be unfortunate.’

. Insult me, since to thee asylum is ;

But I, an outcast, shall this land vacate.
This choice is thine, none other do I blame.

. What doing ? say, have I another lord

Obtained, and have I thee betrayed ?
Unholy curses breathing against kings.

. Yes: not on kings alone, but on thy house

I call down curses.

Enough, with thee I will no more dispute.
But if thou dost desire aid in thy flight

To obtain from my resources, speak: for I
Am ready with no grudging hand to give,
And to send pledges to my foreign hosts

Who shall entreat thee well. Declining this,
Thou, lady, wilt unwisely act: thy rage
Restraining, thou shalt gain the more success.
MEDEA. 23

M. I would not use thy foreign hosts, nor yet
Receive aught from thee. Do not give to me.
The gifts of evil men no gain possess.

J. I call the gods to witness then that I
In all things am prepared to succour thee
And thine; but my kind offers please thee not,
But, self-willed, thou thy friends dost push aside;
Hence thou art pained the more.

M. Begone, for thou art lifted up with love
For thy new bride, delaying out of sight
Of her abode. Go, marry her: perhaps
(And by the help of gods it shall be said)
Thou such a marriage shalt contract that thou
Shalt yet renounce it.

Cuorvus.—Srropue (A).
When loves come in excessive power,
No glory or excelling dower
Impart they thus to men:
But should the Cyprian come, benign,
No other goddess more divine
More grateful would be then.

Mistress, from golden bows forefend
The unerring shaft from me, nor send
Thy missile steeped in love.

Let moderation rather please,
And set my anxious mind at ease,
Gift noblest from above.

ANTISTROPHE (A).
May Cypris ne’er with fond desire
For alien beds my heart inspire,
And may the goddess dread
‘No jarring broils impose on me,
Nor strife insatiate decree ;
But choose the peaceful bed,
24 MEDEA.

Where loving union shall abide ;
And with discernment keen decide
For women whom to wed.

Srrorue (B).

O native land, and O my home,
Ne’er as an outcast may I roam
Far from my native city,
A life enduring hard to bear, .
By reason of the anxious care
Of grief most fraught with pity.

May I be first subdued by death,

And yielding up my fleeting breath,
So terminate my day.

No other grief can this exceed,

Or deeper make the bosom bleed,

Than when stern exile is decreed, \
From native land away.

ANTISTROPHE (B).

We know it, and ourselves perceive
The truth thereof, nor need receive
The fact from others’ speech ;
’Neath foulest wrong, nor friend nor city
For thee hath felt due sense of pity.
May speedy ruin reach
The thankless man who friends can slight,
Nor yet reveal the key so bright,
Of better mind: no friend to me
Shall such ungracious person be.

(Enter AcEvs.)

Aig. Medea, hail! with better preface none
Than this can any man address his friend.

M. And thou too, hail, son of Pandion wise.
Whence, Aigeus, comest thou within this land ?
MEDEA. 25

4ig.On leaving Phoebus’ ancient oracle.

M. Why didst thou sail to earth’s prophetic centre P
4ig. Seeking to know what offspring might be mine.
M. Say, art thou childless still, by all the gods ?
Aig. Childless I am, by some divine mischance.

M. Thy wife existing, or thyself unwed ?

44g. Not unaccustomed I to wedlock’s yoke.

M. Respecting offspring what did Phosbus say ?
4g. Words too profound for man to understand.

M. Tis fair for me to know the god’s response ?
44g. Yes, for in sooth it needs a subtle mind.

M. What said he? speak, if proper ’tis to know.
Aig. ‘ Be careful not to slack thy ship’s forefoot.’
M: Until thou do what thing, or reach what land ?
4g. Until I see again my father’s hearth.

M. Some object seeking sail’st thou to this land ?
4g. I hear one Pittheus is Troezene’s king.

M. Pelop’s devoutest. son, as men report.

4ig.To him Id fain convey the god’s response.

M. For he is wise and skilled in things like these.
Zig. Of allallies to me most faithful he.

M. Be fortunate and-gain the thing thou seek’st.

Aly. Why hath thine eye-end-thisthy-skin-so shranik ?

M. My husband, Aigeus, is the worst of men.

ig. What say’st thou? clearly speak thy mind’s
distress.

M. No wrong receiving, Jason injures me.

Aig. What hath he done? more clearly speak to me.

M. He hath, with me, a wife who rules his house.

Aig. What! hath he dared commit-this basest deed?

M. ’Tistrue,and we, hisfriendserewhile, are spurned.

ig. Enamoured, or disliking his own bed ?

M. Immoderate love possessed him, and to friends
He faithless was.

4g. May he to ruin come, if as thou say’st,
He is an evil man,
26
M.

4g.

M.

Aig.

M.

Aig.

M.

Aig.

M.

M,

MEDEA.

He fain would link himself with princely men.
Who gives to him P thy story end for me.
Creon, who rules o’er this Corinthian land.
Lady, for thee to grieve ’twas well excused.
I am undone, and am expelled this land.
By whom? a new wrongdoing thou revealest.
Outcast from Corinth, Creon drives me forth.
Doth Jason this permit ? I praise not this,
Nor e’er have done.
Not in his speech, but in his heart he longs
For it. But I entreat thee by this beard,
And by thy knees thy suppliant T become,
On m ight, some pity take,
And s not cast out in HESS State,
But Sry aad and Gone tks me a guest.
Thus shall thy wish for offspring by the gos
Accomplished beyand Eleasbd Shalt Chou ie.
Thou know’st not what a stape here thea ars
found.
T'll cause that childless thou no more shalt be,
And fruitful seed I’ll help thee to beget ;
Such drugs effectual I understand !

. For many reasons J am prone:to grant

To thee this boon ; first on the score of gods,
Then for the sake of progeny, whose seed
Thou promisest, for I thus far despair.

With me ’tis thus: should’st thou arrive my land
Within, I’ll strive in justice patron true

To be; but, lady, thus I thee forewarn.

To take thee from this land I’ll not consent;
But should’st thou come thyself to my abode
Thou shalt remain unharmed, and I will ne’er
Surrender thee to any man; but quit

This land of thy own will, for with allies

I blameless wish to be.

It shall be so; but if I had a pledge
MEDEA. 27

Of this, I should in all things meet from thee
Fair treatment,

fig. And dost thou not believe, or is there aught
That is perplexing thee ?

M. Ido believe; but yet to me the house
Of Pelias is opposed, and Creon’s. Bound
With oaths, thou would’st not give me up to

those
Who from the land would bear me off by force.
But if in simple words thon hast agreed,
And thou art free from.oaths made to the gods,
Thou would’st perhaps become ally with them,
And yield to their demands. My state is weak ;
To them is wealth, and eke a kingly house.

Aig. Much caution, lady, doth thy speech contain.

If this to do it seemeth good to thee,

Tam not averse. ’Tis safest policy

While having thee in charge to show excuse
Sufficient to thy foes: thine own behoof

Is best securéd thus. Rehearse the gods
By whom I am to swear.

M. Swear by the ground and by the sun, father
Of mine own sire, and gathering into one
The kindred of the gods, by all combined
Take oath.

Alig. That I shall do or not do what, I pray ?

M. That neither thou thyself shalt cast me forth
From out thy land, nor, should a foe of mine
Desire to bear me off, that not alive
Thou’lt yield me up to them with thy consent.

4g. By earth I swear, and by the sun’s pure light,
And all the gods, that what I hear from thee

* Shall be inviolate.

M. It is enough: what should’st thou undergo
If not abiding faithful to this oath ?

4g.Such things as happen to irreverent men.
28 MEDEA.

M. Go now in peace: all things are well, and J,
As soon as possible, shall migrate hence
To thy own city, when I’ve carried out
All I intend, and everything secured
Which I propose. (Exit Aces.) -

Cxorvs.
May Maia’s son, the guide and king,
Conduct thee safely home,
And may’st thou to completion bring,
The purpose of thy mind ;
For Aigeus, thou by us art thought,
A man with noble virtues fraught!

M. O Zeus, and thou revenge of Zeus, and thou
Effulgence of the sun, now soon, my friends, .
I shall victorious triumph o’er my foes.

I have started on the road, and there is hope

My enemies shall punished be; for now

This man’s a harbour to my plans where I

Was most at sea. . . From him I'll fasten on

A stern-cable, retiring to the town

And citadel of Pallas. . . All my plans

I'll tell thee now. Look not for words from me

That shall afford delight. . . First I will send

A maid for Jason, and within my sight

I'll ask him to approach. . . I’ll go to him,

And speak soft words . . how all things proper
seem ‘

And managed well. As to the royal match

Which he hath made, betraying me, ‘tis all

Good policy and well determined on.

I shall entreat him that my children may

Remain behind—not that I would forsake them

In hostile land, to be reproached by foes—

But that I may despatch by treachery

The daughter of the king. . . Straight to the bride
MEDEA. 29

T'll send them, bearing presents in their hands
(That exile they may ’scape)—a mantle soft
And wreath of beaten gold. If she accept
The ornament, and put it on her skin,

She’ll perish wretchedly, and everyone

That shall the damsel touch ; with poison such
In force I shall anoint the gifts. . . Pll end
My tale. . . Such evil deed as next by me

Is to be carried out, I must lament ;

For my own children I shall slay, and none
Shall rescue them; and when I have o’erwhelmed
All Jason’s house, then I shall quit this land,
The guilt of infant murder fleeing from,

And having dared to do the deed accursed
The most. For to be laughed at by one’s foes
Is not, my friends, to be endured. Well, then,
What gain for me to live, for me who have

No fatherland, nor home, nor shelter aught
From my calamities. I, then, was wrong
When I forsook my father’s house, induced
By the Hellene’s discourse, who shall pay back,
By help divine, the penalty. No sons

By me, in future, shall he see alive.

No offspring from the bride wed recently
Shall he beget; for she, the wretch, must die
Unhappily, by means of my charmed drugs.
Let no one fancy me a simpleton,

Or feeble-minded, or inclined to bear

My wrongs with quiet mind. Of other stuff
I’m made; direful to foes, but to my friends
Of gentle mood. The life of such, I ween,

Is most renowned.

Cuorvs.

Since thou to us hast this account conveyed,
Anxious to guide thee well, and taking side
30 MEDEA.

With human laws, we warn thee ’gainst this deed.
M. Not otherwise may it be. This to declare,
For thee it is excusable. No wrong
Like mine hast thou e’er undergone.
Ch, And, woman, wilt thou have the heart to slay
Thy very flesh and blood ?
M. Yes ; so my husband shall be most distressed.
Ch, And thou wilt be a woman most forlorn.
M. It may be so. All intervening words
Are vain. Let me alone. Begone; and bring
Jason tome. In all things which demand
Trustworthiness I thee employ. No plan
Determined on by me shalt thou divulge,
If to thy masters thou art well disposed,
And woman true.

Cuorus—Srrorue (A).

Blest were Erechtheus’ offspring in the olden time.
From the gods most blessed sprang their lofty race:
On wisdom famed they pastured of a sacred clime,
Which of warlike ravage bears no lasting trace.

Ever softly moved they ’mid skies of deepest blue,
Where report doth publish that in days of yore,
Harmonia, graced with tresses of a golden hue,
Nine Pierian Muses, chaste in temper, bore.

AntisTROPHE (A)}.

They sing the Cyprian goddess, how the streams she quaffed
Of beanteous-flowmg Cephissus, and with gentle breath
Gales she breathed which perfumes o’er the land did waft.
And in her tresses twining a fragrant rosy wreath,

She sends the loves which counsel to wisdom sage advance,
And virtue’s wise assessors. her gentle cause enhance.
MEDEA. 31

StropHE (B).
Say, how shall the city of sacred streams,
Or land where the welcomed stranger seems
At home and secure, admit thee in,
Thou murderess, stained with so foul a sin ?
Unhallowed, shalt thou in its ranks be found,
And pollute with thy presence holy ground ?
Oh! think, shall thy tender offspring bleed
’Neath parental hand? Shall so foul a deed
By thee be committed ? We entreat thee all,
And, clasping thy knees, at thy feet we fall.
In no way we scorn to avert the blow
Which is destined to lay thy children low.
We beseech thee, Medea, by every plea,
To forbear thy offspring beloved to slay.

ANTISTROPHE (B).

How shalt thou muster daring or arm thy hand to slay ;
How rouse thy heart, so reckless, to take their life away ?
Canst thou regard thine offspring with calm maternal eye,
And still persist, without a tear, to doom thy sons to die P
Wretch! wilt thou dare to stain thy hand with blood,

Thy children’s blood ! and yield to reckless mood?

And shall they suppliant lie and vainly crave

Of thee to spare them from an early grave P

. Obedient to thy orders I am come:
Though hostile, this attention thou shalt have,
And, woman, I will hear what more thou crav’st.
. Jason, I ask thee to condone what’s said :
’Tis likely thou dost bear my angry mood,
Since many kindly things have been performed
By us for one another. With myself
I reasoned thus, and did myself revile :—
‘Oh, fool! why so enraged and ill-disposed
To those who counsel well. Why make myself
MEDEA.

To the rulers of the land a malcontent,

And to my husband, who for me doth plan
Things most expedient, in that he hath wed

A princess, and in rearing brothers up

To my own sons? Shall I not cease from rage ?
What is to come to me, thus acting still,
Whereas the gods kindly provide for me?

Have I not children? Am I ignorant

That we are exiled from the land, and now

In need of friends ?’ On this reflecting much

I saw I harboured ill-advisedness,

And that I was enraged without a cause.

I praise thee now: to me thou prudent seem’st
Thus welding on to us alliance new ;

And I a dolt, who in these schemes should share,
And to completion forward them, and yield

To this connexion, and whose part it was

To have been charmed with thy betrothéd bride.
But females, we are what we are—a bane

I will not say. It doth not thee become

To imitate the bad, and to repay

Folly with folly. I have pardon asked,

And have confessed that I was ill advised,

With better judgment all things now are planned.
Oh, children! children! come; the chamber quit.
Come forth. With me your father greet and speak
To him, and from your former enmity

Be reconciled with me to friends renewed.
Betwixt us both a compact hath been made,

And my revenge is changed. Take his right hand
In yours. Alas! my woes; how I reflect

On something that’s concealed! After the lapse
Of years, will you extend to me, my sons,

An arm beloved? Ah me! how am I prone

To tears and apprehensive! Putting by

At length my discord with your sire, I’ve filled
My tender eyes with tears.
S54 S458

MEDEA, 33

Cuorvs.

From my eyes, too, the recent tear hath gushed.
Oh! may the present ill no more advance !

JASON,
Lady, I this commend ; thy conduct past
I now forbear to blame. *Tis natural
That woman should feel wrath against her spouse
When smuggling in alliance new. But now
Thy mind is altered to a better frame,
And after lapse of time thou know’st at length
What sentiment prevails ; the conduct this 7
Of prudent wife. “Children, of you your sire
Not without thought, with help divine,
Much care hath ta’en; for I believe that you
Will still become, with your step-brothers, head
And chief of Corinth’s land ; and may you rise
And prosper on. The rest your sire, and those
Among the gods propitious, will provide.
May I behold you reaching boyhood’s end
In prosperous state, superior to your foes.
Why dost thou tinge thy pupils with fresh tears,
And turn aside thy cheek so delicate, ~

And welcome with no joy my speech P
. Tis naught; ’twas merely thinking of my bys /

Courage! I will arrange concerning them:

. This I shall feel. Thy words I will not doubt.

A woman tender is, and born to tears.
Why, hapless! at thy offspring dost thou groan P

. I brought them to the world, and when thy prayer

Thou utteredst that these my sons might live,

I pitied them, if this the second brood

Should be begot. But why with me me thou hast

This interview, is now in part explained;

The rest I will declare: Whereas it seems

That I have threats denounced against the powers
D
—

34

J.

M.

MEDEA.

Who rule this land—and this for me is best
I know full well; that I might be no check
To thee and to the king (for to their house

I hostile seem to be)—I will myself

This country quit in flight; but that my sons
May thus be nourished up beneath thy hand,
Creon entreat, that exile they be spared.

I know not if I shall persuade, but yet

An effort I must make.

Do thou at least request thy wife to ask

Her father, that these children may not be
Expelled the land.

J. By all means; and I think that if she’s like

The rest of womankind, I shall prevail
With her,

M. In this endeavour I will share with thee,

For I will send my children bearing gifts

That far excel, I know, all those that now
*Mong men are found—a mantle soft and wreath
Of beaten gold. But with the utmost speed
’Tis needful that a servant should convey
Thither the ornament. She shall be blest,

I say not once, but countless times ;—for spouse
Obtaining thee, most excellent of men,

And having gained possession of the gem
Which onee the Sun, my father’s sire, gave

To his descendants. Take these wedding gifts,
My children, in your hands; bear and present
The parcel to the bride, the princess blest,

And gifts not to be scorned at she’ll receive.
Fond woman, why dost rob thine hands of these?
Dost thou suppose the royal house needs clothes?
Gold thinkest thou it lacks P Reserve thy gifts,
And send them not away. My wife, I know,

If she regard me worthy her esteem,

Will needful means supply.
MEDEA. 35

M. Tell me not so. Gifts are an argument
Which can convince the gods, and gold with men
Is mightier than a thousand words. Her lot
Is fortunate, and now the deity
Her substancedothincrease; she’s young and rules.
Not merely gold I’d barter, but my life,
My offspring’s exile to avert. My sons,
Go, enter now the wealthy house. Entreat
Your father’s new-made wife and mistress mine—
Entreat her that you may not exiled be,
Giving to her the ornament. For this
Is highly needful, that she should receive
These gifts in her own hands: with all speed go.
May you be joyful harbingers to me,
Your mother, carrying out successfully
What to obtain she longs.

Cuorus—Srropuz (A).

The glad light of hope from me fades away,

I despair of the children’s life to-day ;

E’en now they are treading the pathway to death,
Soon murder shall stifle their youthful breath.

The bane of gold fillets the bride shall wear,

And bind the dread crown on her auburn hair,

And rejoice in the grace of the fatal band

When she takes the false charm in unconscious hand

ANTISTROPHE (A.)

Its beauty so graceful and god-like sheen

Shall win the unhappy bride, I ween,

The crown and the gold-wrought robe to don,

So deadly but beauteous to look upon.

But ah! with the world that hath passed away,

Hapless maid! she’ll bedeck her in bridal array.
pnd
36 MEDEA.

To so deep a snare a victim she’ll fall,

And death’s gloomy lot her life shall enthrall.
Her ruin is certain, nor can she elude

The pitiful end by which she’s pursued.

Stropue (B),

Thou bridegroom ill married! unfortunate man
To princes allied, dost unwittingly ban

Thy children to die. In death’s bitter fate
Thou involvest thy wife to thee wedded so late.
O hapless man, hurled from thy former weal,
The clouds of disaster thy greatness conceal.

At thy anguish, sad mother, I deeply lament

On thy children’s destruction now madly intent ;
And all for the couch which thy spouse forsook
When alien wife to thy home he took.

(Enter PEpacocus.)

P: . . « « Mistress!
Thy children are let off from banishment,
The gifts the royal bride, well pleased,-received
Into her hands ; henceforth there’s peace to be
Between thy children and herself. .

M. Weill!

P, Why dost thou stand confounded when so blest ?
Why backward hast thou turned thy cheek from

me

And with no joy my narrative receiv’st ?

M. Alas! a :

P. This cry I cannot with my tale adjust;—
Whether I bring thee good-intelligence
Or the reverse, I am not cognisant.

ME. Thou hast related what thou hast: no blame
On thee I cast.

P. Why on the ground dost cast thine eye and weep ?
MEDEA, 37

M. Great need have I, old maz, for this, the gods
And I, devising ill, have thus contrived.

P. Courage! by the aid of sons thou wilt return.

M. Ill fated, I shall firstlead ofhate hous

P. In that thou’rt parted from thy. children, thou
Art not exceptional. Lightly to-bear~
His trials every mortal it behoves.

M. This I will do. But to the house repair,
Make ready for the children all such things
As day by day they need. My sons! my sons!
To you belong a city and a home (Hit P.)
In which—forsaking me, unhappy one—
Ye will reside for aye, bereft of me
Your mother. I shall go to alien lands
A fugitive, ere I have enjoyment had

. From you, or-seen_you_placed-in-happy_lot,
Ere wedlock’s i L 18s
Hath you _bedecked, and ere I’ve held aloft
The marriage torch. Through my audacity
(Oh! hapless tat I am). in vain, my sons,
I have reared_you... Lhave toiled in vain, and
shrunk
To leanness by my toils, enduring pangs
Much hope I entertained that in.old_age
‘You would have nourished me, and would lay ont

With gentle hand my lifeless corse—a lot
That is desired by all. This hope is balked.
Deprived of you, a sad existence I
Shall spend and full of grief. No more shall ye,
With eyes beaming with love, your mother view
When you have turned to other sphere of life.
Alas ! why do you gaze on me, my sons ?
Why do you smile on me the last sad smile ?
What shall I do? ... My resolution’s gone. ‘
Since I beheld my children’s beaming eyes,

 
38 MEDEA.

Women, this deed I dare not take in hand.
Farewell, my former plans—out of the land
The children I shall take. What gain that I,
Distressing with their ills the children’s sire,
Myself should bear twofold as many ills P

Not I: P’ll do it not—farewell my schemes !—
And yet what will become of me? am I
Inclined, by letting off mine enemies,
Unscathed by punishment, to be the butt

Of public ridicule P Performed this crime
Must be. "T'was of my weakness that I felt
In vain those tender words ; children, retire
Within. If there is one who with no right
Obtrudes himself amid my sacrifice,

Let him look well to it. I will not blunt

My hand.—Alas! alas! never my soul

This deed commit. Let them alone, sad one!
Thy children spare. Living exiled with thee
Thy solitude they’ll cheer.—Never, I swear
By the avenging deities in hell below,

Shall this occur, that I shall yield my sons

Up to my foes that they might mock at them.
*Tis needful every way that they should die:
Since needful, I who bore them will them slay.
These resolutions are determined on,

And they shall not escape. Placed on her head
The crown shall be, and in the robes involved
The royal bride shall die, that I well know.
But I shall travel on the saddest path,

And them I shall conduet to one still worse.
I'd fain address my children, Reach to me,
My sons! your hand that I may clasp it close’
To me. O dearest hand and mouth most dear!
Oh! for your form and well-born cast of face,
My sons: may you be blest, but there among
The dead. What doth concern this life your sire
MEDEA, 39

rHath havoc made of. Oh, this sweetest kiss’
And tender skin and infant’s sweetest breath !
‘Leave me: begone: no more a look on you
(Can I direet; I’m worsted by my woes. |
‘I learn what dreadful deeds to perpetrate
‘Tnow propose ; my fury is too strong
' For my intentions good. This is the source
‘Of worst misfortunes among mortal men.

CHorus—ANAPasts,

In discourse of lighter kind

Ere now gladly have I joined,

And come to fiercer war of words
Than well with womankind accords,
There exists with us a genius
Higher subjects to discuss,

Which for wisdom’s sake doth hold
Intercourse on subjects bold.

Not with all—but you would find
Few ungifted with a mind

(One “mong many not imbued
With intelligence and rude).

Those who inexperienced are

In rearing children up with care,
Or who ne’er have parents been,
Excel in happiness I ween

Those who many sons have seen.
Those who childless are nor know
Whether offspring joy bestow,

Or are haply cause of woe,

Are from many sorrows free,
Whether present or henceforth to be ;
While all they to whom is given
Plenteous crop of young from heaven,
"Neath a load of care still bend,
Which afflicts them to life’s end.
40

MEDEA.

First, their care is how to feed
Children with the food they need;
Whence provide due sustenance

As their growing years advance :
More than this, who can decide
What the future shall provide ?
Whether children grown mature
Shall reckon with the good and pure,
Or shall all their anxious years

End in naught but bitter tears,

Tears of bitterness and shame

At their children’s guilty name.

But now one ill I will declare

‘With which none other can compare :
Grant that man’s estate they’ve gained,
And due sustenance obtained ;

Grant their sons with sense imbued,
Say they have virtue’s path pursued,
Suppose this happy fortune smile

On parental hearts awhile ;

Yet shall death some darksome day
Snatch their lifeless sons away,

And in Hades’ dreary realm

All their budding hopes o’erwhelm.
What boots it then that gods should cast
On mankind this evil last ?

Need they just for offspring’s sake
This most curséd hardship take ?

MEpzEa.

My friends, long waiting for my fate, I watch
Where it will lead to next. Lo! I discern

A serving-man of Jason drawing near.

His breath with labour heaved is proof to me
That some disaster new he will relate.

(Enter Musszncer.)
MEDEA. 41

Mess. Medea, having wrought a dreadful deed,
‘ And inadmissible by law, escape and fly !
Nor leave thy ship, nor yet thy car four-wheeled
Which travels on the ground.
M. What ill occurs deserving of this fight | P
Mess. But now the princess and her father Creon,
Under thy baneful drugs, have been destroyed.
M.A tale most charming thou hast told to me.
Henceforth I'll reckon thee among my friends
And benefactors. ;
Mess, What sayest thou? Art in thy proper mind,
Or art thou mad, who hearing that the hearth
Of princes hath been outraged, dost rejoice,
And hast no dread for such unhallowed crimes ?
M. I too have somewhat contrary to say
To these thy words ; but be not hasty, friend ;
Say how they perished: for twofold as much
Thou wouldst delight me, if they died a death
Of misery.
Mess, When thy two children with their sire arrived,
And to the dwelling of the bride drew near,
. We servants, grieved at thy sad lot, were pleased.
Our ears forthwith weredinned with talking loud,
* How that thyself and husband had made up
Your former quarrel.’ One imprints a kiss
Upon thy children’s hand, and on their hair
Of auburn hue, another. Gladly I
Accompanied your children till they reached
The female wards. She whom we now respect
As mistress, ere she saw your little pair
Of children, cast at Jason eager glance ;
She after veiled her eyes and turned aside
Her pallid cheek, smitten with deep disgust
At the children’s coming in; but then thy spouse
Removed the maiden’s wrathful mood and rage,
Thus speaking :—‘ Be not hostile to my. friends ;
42 MEDEA.

Desist from anger and thy head turn round.

Wilt thou not hold as friends thy husband’s friends ?
Wilt thou accept the gifts and supplicate

Thy father to remit, to favour me,

These children’s banishment?’ She, when she saw
The ornaments, refused not, but complied

With all things he required. No distant space
From the princess’ dwelling had their father gone
With children twain, when she took up the robes
Of various hue and put them on herself:

And placing on her head the golden wreath,

In burnished mirror she arranged her hair,
Smiling to see the shade inanimate

Of her reflected form. Then she arose

Out of her seat and paces through the room,
Advancing softly with a spotless foot,

Much in thy gifts rejoicing, and ofttimes
Admiring them with glancing eye, from head

To foot. But after that, there was a sight
Dreadful to see; for changing in her hue

She backward steps slantwise, in all her limbs
Trembling, and scarce she saves herself in time
From falling on the ground, by sinking first

Into a seat. A woman far in years—

One of the household—thinking that perhaps
Some fears inspired of Pan or other god,

Had come on her, cried out before she sees

That through her mouth white foam is issuing,
And that she rolls the pupils of her eyes,

And that the blood had left her skin. She then
A loud lament upraised, far other than

The cry of joy which she had raised before.
Straightway one rushed towards her father’s house,
And one to him who recently became

Her spouse, intent on telling them the bride’s
Calamity, The house throughout resounds
MEDEA, 43

With many runnings to and fro: and now

A runner swift might have obtained the goal,
Turning the last bend in a racing match

Of twice three plethra. She then, hapless one,
When past the mute and speechless eye, groaning
Arose, A twofold ill attacked her: first,

The wreath of gold, resting upon her head,

Sets up a wondrous flame of fire, eating

Its course on every side; and next—the robes

Of various hue, thy children’s gift, devoured
The hapless girl’s white skin. Rising erect

All burning from her seat, she flies, her hair

At one time shaking, then her head, the crown
Wishing to fling away ; but fitting close

The gold held on its headbands, and the fire,
Whene’er she shook her head, with double strength
Blazed out. O’ercome by her calamity

She sinks upon the ground, exceeding hard

To know at sight by any save her sire.

For neither was the eye’s calm character

Nor goodly cast of features manifest ;

But from the head atop the blood dropped down
With fire commingled, and the flesh, like tears
Oozing from out the fir, sank from the bones
Under thy poison’s jaws invisible.

A dreadful sight! In all there was a fear

To touch the dead: we had her sufferings

To warn us; but her father, ignorant

Of her distress and coming suddenly

To the palace, prostrate falls upon the ground.

A wailing cry he straightway raised and clasped
The corpse and kisseth it, while speaking thus:—
‘Oh! hapless child, what god thus shamefully
Hath thee destroyed? Who robs the aged man
On the grave’s brink, of thee? Oh, let me die
With thee my child!’ and when he stayed his words
44 MEDEA.

And lamentations, if he sought to raise

His aged body, as the ivy clings

About the laurel’s bough, so he would cling
About the fine-spun robes. And terrible

The frame’s contortions were; for he desired

To rise upon his knees, but she held on

To him, and if by force one drew him off,

He tore the aged flesh from off his bones.

In time he died, and, wretched man, gave up
His breath, no longer o’er his misery
Triumphant. Now the dead lie side by side,
The aged parent and the child: their lot

With tears to be regretted. What pertains

To thy own case, I wish to keep distinct

From my discourse. Thyself shalt know a means
Of refuge from thy punishment: not now

The first time do I estimate a shade

All mortal things. I fearless would affirm

Of those who wise appear and ponder well
Their words, that they incur the just repute

Of grossest folly. Never mortal man

Hath happy been. Just when the flood of wealth
Sets in toward him, one man may be more blest
Than some one else; but happy ne’er was one.

Crorvs.

Upon this day the god is like to bring

On hapless Jason justly, many ills.

How I commiserate thy woes, daughter

Of Creon, who to the dwellings of the dead
Art gone, and all because of Jason’s marriage !

MevEa,

This scheme has been determined on. As soon
As I have slain the children, then to start
MEDEA. 45

Out of this land, and not by staying, yield

To other harsher hand my sons to slay.

Without reprieve they both must die. Since this
Is so, then I who love them will them slay. —

But go, my heart, and arm thyself—why shrink
From crimes which dreadful’but expedient are ?
Come, my unhappy hangtake, take the sword.
Creep to the goal of life; henceforward scorn
The coward’s part; remember not thy sons,

How passing dear they are, and how they owe
Their birth to thee. Forget for one brief day
Thine offspring, and bewail them afterward.

For though thou slay them, yet they were beloved,
And I am woman most unfortunate.

Cxorus.—Srrovue (A).

O earth, and sun’s all-glittering ray,
Mark, oh! mark this reckless fiend,

Ere unnatural hand she lay :
Self-inflicting on her kind,

Offspring of thy lofty line!
Children of thy golden seed!
Dreadful thought that blood divine
Shed by: mortal hand should bleed !

But now, O god-born light, restrain,
Check, and from the house expel,

Cleansing it from murder’s stain,
This Erinys-child of hell.

ANTISTROPHE (A).

Lost is all maternal labour !
Sweet offspring thou hast vainly borne !
Thou, who once didst leave the harbour, .
By the tempest’s fury torn!
46

MEDEA.

Passion-driven, rushing blindly,
Braving dangers of the seas ;
Sailing from the port unfriendly,

Of the blue Symplegades.

Hapless woman! why doth anger,
Which thy wrathful mind inspires,

Yield its ground to fouler murder,
Kindling up its hateful fires ?

Hard to cleanse is kindred blood,
Long its deep-sunk stains abide.

Woes commensurate shall brood
On the guilty parricide :

On the earth with fatal doom,
For the guilty shall they light.
Yes, from angry heaven they’ll come
With a blasting, withering blight.

First Child. Woe’s me, what shall I do, or where escape

My mother’s hand ?

Second Child. I know not, dearest brother, for we’re

lost.

Cuortvs.

List! dost thou hear the cry

Of helpless children doomed to die?
Daring and unhappy fiend,

Cruel to thy nearest kind!

Shall I enter and control,

As is right, her purpose foul ?

Or must the helpless children die,
With a friendly hand so nigh ?

Children. Assist us, by the gods—we’re in a strait—

E’en now we’re near the peril of the sword.
MEDEA. 47

CHorvs.

Wretch! thou a rock must be or steel,
Who with murderous hand dost deal
Death to thine own offspring dear,
Which thy very self didst bear.

One I wot of in the olden time,

One guilty of a kindred crime,

One only who her sons did slay,
And murderous hand upon them lay ;
She who, with a deadly blow,

Erst laid her offspring-crop so low,
Ino, by the gods impelled,

And from man’s abodes expelled

By the wife of Zeus. ’T'was she
Fell into the briny sea.

Passing o’er the ocean brink,

*T was her hapless lot to sink

In the engulfing wave. One fate
With her children twain she met.
What direfal ill will next ensue ?
What destiny or trial new P

O! bed of woman, fraught with woe,
Many grievous ills, I trow,

Hast thou wrought for men below !

(Enter Jason.)

J. Ye women who are standing by this house,
Ts she who guilty is of these foul deeds,
Medea, in the house, or gone in flight ?

Tis needful that she hide beneath the earth,
Or her winged body lift to depth of air,

If to the house of kings she’s not to pay
The penalty. Can she believe that she,
Who slew the rulers of the land, shall yet
Escape scotfree from their abode ? but not
43 -MEDEA.

For her I feel concern as for mine own,
My children; those she wronged shall punish her;
JT came to save my children’s life, lest kin
Of Creon work them harm, avenging thus
The impious murder by a mother’s hand.
Ch. Thou know’st not, hapless Jason, to what height
Of grief thou’rt come—else thus thou would’st
not speak.
J. What is’t? Doth she desire e’en me to slay ?
Ch. Dead are thine offspring by maternal hand.
J. Ah! woman, what wilt say? How thou hast me
Destroyed !
Ch. Think of thy children as no more alive.
J. Where did she slay them, indoors or without ?
Ch.On opening out the portals of thy house,
Thou shalt behold the murder wrought thyself.
J. Undo the bolts, attendants; with all speed
Wrench off the hinges, that I may behold
A twofold woe—my sons in death and her,
That for this murder I might vengeance take.
M. Why dost thou shake the gates and force them back,
The corpses searching for and me who slew
The dead? Forego thy toil; if me thou need’st,
Speak what thou wilt, but never with thy hand
Shalt thou me touch. The Sun, sire of my sire,
Such chariot giveth me, from hostile hand
A safeguard.
J. O hateful thing! O woman, hatefullest
To gods, to me, and all the race of man!
Who dar’st, though thou didst give them birth,
to plunge
In thy own children’s breast a sword, and hast
Destroyed myself a childless man! This done
Thou yet canst gaze on sun and earth, a deed
Most impious daring to perform. Go, rot!
I now am wise; but then I was insane,
MEDEA. 49

When from thy house and from thy alien land

I brought thee to my Grecian home—a pest

Of no small kind, a traitress to thy sire,

And to the land which brought thee up. The gods

On me have hurled thy venging deity.

For when on board the Argo thou embark’st,

The fair-prowed Argo, thou hadst first embrued

Thy hands in blood—thy brother’s blood—one
hearth

Inhabiting with thee. Such was thy rise.

When thou hadst married me and borne me sons, |

Through force of lustand through the marriage-bed,

Thou hast destroyed them. ‘Not in all the land

Of Hellas is there one who would have dared

Ever this deed to do; not one of those

In preference to whom I thought it right

To marry thee—connexion hatefullest.

To me no wife, but savage lioness,

Of fiercer nature than the Tuscan Scylla.

But with reproaches countless I forbear

To sting thy mind—such then thy daring mood.

Out on thee, base in conduct! murderess

Of offspring! there is room for me to wail

My fortune sad, who my late nuptial couch

Shall not enjoy, nor shall I e’er alive

Address the children I begat and reared,

But I have lost them all!

. I could spin out a long oration fraught =

With arguments opposed to thine; but Zeus,

My father, knows what favours thou receiv’ dst

From me, and what thy deeds to me returned,

Didst thou expect—mistaken if thou didst—

That thou should’st spend a pleasant life mocking

At me, when on my marriage-bed a slight

Thou hadst imposed ?—not with impunity

Should Queen or Creon cast me from this land.

E
50

BOSS ESSENSE SEMEN

eS

MEDEA.

Hence call me, if thou wilt, a lioness,

Or Scylla—dweller in Tyrenian plain—

For I have vexed thy heart, as need I should.
Thyself art pained and sharer in my grief.

Be sure Iam, but grief to me is good,

If thou no more canst me revile.

O children, what vile mother you obtained !

. O children, ruined by your father’s sins !

Mine own right hand at least destroyed them not,

. It was thy scorn, and marriage newly formed.

And was the marriage-bed the only cause,
For which thou didst destroy them P

. Think’st thou that this to woman is small, grief P

To one who is wise—to thee all things are ills,

. These children live no more: this thee will vex.

They live, alas! avengers on thy head.

. The gods will know who first began the sin.

They know indeed thy mood detestable.

. Hate on—thy harsh announcement I detest.

And I thine own—Divorce is feasible.

. How then! what shall I do; sincerely I

Desire it too.
Permit me to inter and mourn the dead.

. Not I forsooth, since I will bury them

With mine own hand, and take them hence
To Hera’s grove, who dwells upon the heights,
Lest foe insult them wantonly and tear.
Their graves. In this the land of Sisyphus

I will henceforth a solemn feast appoint,

And sacrificial rites, to expiate

This impious murder. I myself shall go

To Erechtheus’ land, and with Pandion’s son,
Afigeus, abide; and thou, an evil man,

Shalt miserably die, as thee befits,—

Struck by a piece of the Argo on thy head,—
And bitter end of my alliance see. .
J.

M.

SES EN REN BN

M.

MEDEA. 51

But may Erinys thee exterminate,

And Justice reeking blood, for children’s sake.
What god or deity regardeth thee,

False to thy oaths and traitor to the rights

Of hospitality ?:

Oh, thou polluted and child-murderess !

. Go to thy house, inter thy wife’s remains.

I go: bereft at least of children twain.

. As yet thou wailest not—await old age.

Oh, children most beloved !

. Yes, to their mother dear and not to thee.

If so, how comes it that thou slayedst them ?

. Distressing thee at least.

Hapless man ! I long to cling

To my children’s mouth beloved.
Now thou longest to address,

And in thine arm would’st fain caress
Them, whom lately thou didst spurn,
And thy face against them turn.

By the gods I thee implore,

Let me touch my sons once more,
And pass my hand on tender skin
Where youthful pulses late have been.
Tis impossible—thy prayer

Falls on my insensate ear.

JASON.

Zeus, hear’st thou how I’m pushed aside

By this polluted parricide,

And what foul words of bitterness

From this savage lioness

I receive? With all my power

I this sad event deplore,

And would fain the gods adjure,

To witness all which I endure.

How thou, who both my sons hast slain,
E2
52

MEDEA.

Bidst me now, their sire, refrain
E’en to touch the lifeless dead,
Or lay them in their last low bed.
Would I ne’er had them begot
Thus to meet a hapless lot!
Would IJ had not lived to see
Offspring thus destroyed by thee !

Cuorvs.
Full many fates in heaven above
Are wielded by the hand of Jove ;
From his store he doth dispense
Good and evil recompense.
Many things the gods effect
Otherwise than men expect,
Plans determined on have failed
In accomplishment and paled
Into nothingness. The god
Is yet wont to find a mode
Human foresight to deceive
And unlooked-for things achieve.
To such ending, full of gloom,
Hath this tragic action come.
ALCESTIS.

—1oe

APOLLO.

O pwetuines of Admetus, where I once
Submitted to content myself with fare

Fit only for a slave, albeit a god.

The cause of this was Zeus, who slew my son
Asclepius, hurling lightning ’gainst his breast ;
Whereat enraged, I slay the Cyclop-band

Who forge the sacred fire. In penalty

My father made me serve a mortal man.
Arriving in this land I tended herds

For this mine host, and till this day I’ve kept
His house from harm. Myself a holy god,

I found in him a righteous man, the son

Of Pheres, whom from death I rescued once,
The Fates deluding. They for me agreed

To let Admetus ’scape immediate death, .

If he should give another in exchange

To the powers below, for him to die. But when
He tested all, and went throughout his friends,
His father and his mother who him bore,

| None save his wife he found who would consent
To die for him, and see the light no more.

She now within, gasping her latest breath,

By hands is lifted up. This is the day

On which she’s doomed to die and quit this life,
And I, lest some taint reach me in the house,
Now leave the roof beloved of this abode.
54

ALCESTIS.

F’en now I see Death nigh at hand, the priest
Of all who die: he shall convey her hence
To Hades’ dwellings. Timely he has come,
This day observing, in which she must die.

PURER ER h

ad

DEATH.
Ho! Phoebus, why dost now appear ;
Why hauntest thou these houses near ?
Would’st thou again unjustly stay
The victim claimed below to-day ?
Would’st thou again thy arts renew,
And filch from gods the honours due ?
Sufficed it not for thee to save,
Admetus from untimely grave,
When thou with crafty guile didst cheat
The Fates, and all their plans defeat ?
Must thon o’er her keep watch and ward,
And with thine arméd hand her guard ?
When she hath pledged her word of late
Her spouse to rescue from his fate ;
And thus, like Pelias’ noble daughter,
Might save her husband loved from slaughter.

APoLio.—DEatTH.

. Courage! I have a right and reasons good.

What need of arms, if thou hast justice got ?
It is my habit aye to carry these.
And thine these mansions wrongfully to aid.

. Tm grieved at the misfortunes of a friend.
. And wilt thou rob me of this second dead ?
. Not even this I’d take from thee by force.

How then is he above ground, not beneath ?
He hath exchanged his wife, whom now thon
seek’st.

. I will conduct her then beneath the ground.
. Go, take her, for thy mind I can’t persuade.
POUR SEPBSPSASROEBSES

ALCESTIS. 55

. To slay him whom ’tis right? This must I do.

No: but on them who linger death to bring.
Ah! now I take your meaning and intent.
Well! may Alcestis yet not reach old age ?

No: for I too am pleased with honours due.
More than one life at once thou may’st not take.
When the young die, more honour do J. gain.
But when a grandam dies, she’s buried well.

. Phoebus, thy law leans to the wealthier side.

What saidst thou ? art thou wise unknown to me ?
They who’ve the means would purchase to die old.
Art thou then disinclined to grant this boon ?
Iam: thou knowest well my usual ways.

. To mortals hateful, and by gods abhorred.

Thou canst not all things have without a right.

. Yet thou in truth shalt stay, though over stern.

So great a man shall come to Pheres’ house,

_ Sent by Eurystheus from the rocky shore

Of Thrace, to fetch the chariot-team: there he,
Received as guest in King Admetus’ halls,

This woman shall by force wrench from thy grasp.
From me no thanks shalt thou receive for this:
And yet thou’lt do it, and receive my hate.

. Though thou should’st make harangue, thou shalt

obtain
No more. . . . The woman then shall go beneath
To Hades’ halls. . . . I go for her, that I
May with the sword her consecrate to death ;
For he is sacred to the gods below
The hair of whoso’s head this blade hath hallowed.

Cuorus.
J. Why round the house doth silence reign ?
Admetus’ halls are stilled again.
2. No friend is near
Who in mine ear
56

ry

Ch.

bo

ALCESTIS.

Could now the truth convey,

If we’re to mourn

For mistress gone:

Or whether Pelias’ daughter fair—
Alcestis—breathes the upper air.

To me and all she doth appear

The best of wives to husbands dear.

. Doth any hear the house within

Of wails and beaten hands the din,
The sounds of lamentations drear

To justify my gloomiest fear

That all is over now and done P

Of serving-men I see not one
Standing before the palace-gate.

Oh! would’st thou, Pean, now abate
The evil done, and at thy will

The tempest of our sorrows still!

. Not silent they, had she been dead.
. No corpse from this abode hath sped.
. How comes that thought. I doubt it, friend:

What sign doth this to thee portend ?

. How could Admetus leave so bare

The tomb of wife so good and fair ?
Before the gate I see no ewer

Containing lustral water pure :

Such as the custom ’tis to view

Before the gate, when sorrow ’s new:
Before the hearth no lock is shorn
Which falls when for the dead we mourn.
As yet methinks, no mournful din

Of young hands beating sounds within.

. And yet this is the fatal day
. (What dost thou say ?)
. When she is bound to pass away.

You've struck my heart and pierced my mind.
When good men grieve, to grief inclined —
ALCESTIS. 57

Is he who all his life hath been
A holy man and free from sin.

Corus.

A place to find in all the world I fail
To which on venturous voyage I might sail—
To Lycia’s port or Ammon’s thirsty fane—
That I might set her spirit free again.
Stern Fate draws nigh: I knownot where to turn,
Or to what priest resort who’s wont to burn
His offering at the sacred shrine. . . But one,
One only, had he lived, had gone—
The child of Phoebus: by his aid
Alcestis her escape had made
And left the darksome seats below
And passed the gloomy gates of Pluto:
His quickening power the dead confessed,
And lived again at his behest.
But the Jove-sent flash of heavenly flame
With lightning speed upon him came,
And crushed his life. No hopes remain

> That I can bring her back again.
Due offerings by the king are made,
And dripping beasts on altars laid
In numbers full. . . .. There is no way
By which our present ill to stay.

But lo! a waiting maid comes from the house
In tears. What new mishap am I to hear?
Indeed to mourn, if untoward lot occur
To our liege lords, is well excused. We wait
In anxious ignorance and wish to know
If thy loved lady breathes, or is she gone ?
Maid. That she’s alive and dead you may well say.
Ch. How can one person die and yet see light ?
M. Prostrate she lies and gasping her last breath.
58

Ch.

Ch.

M.

Ch.

Ch.

ALCESTIS.

Oh! hapless thing! how good a man to lose
So good a wife !

As yet my lord this scarcely knows till he
Has felt her loss in fall.

Is there no longer hope to‘save her life ?
None; for the fated day doth bear her off.
Are due rites all prepared for 'sepulture P
Ready’s the shroud in which he’ll ‘lay her out.
Then let her know she’ll glorious die—the best
Of womankind the sun ere shone upon.

How not the best. Who shall deny the fact ?
What must she be who'd her excel in grace !
How could she prove more fully that her lord
She did esteem, than by this free consent

To die for him? .. . But this self-sacrifice

The town well knows. Thou’lt wonder if thou
hear’st

What she hath done at home. When she
perceived.

The fated day was come, her tender skin
She bathed in river-streams, and taking forth
From cedar chests a costly robe, she decked

Herself becomingly. . . . Then at the shrine
She stood and prayed—' Dear goddess, ere I
reach

The realms below, this last time, prostrate, I
Shall ask thee to befriend my orphan young.
Yoke to my son a fitting wife, and give

A noble bridegroom to my girl: nor may

The children meet untimely end like me

Their mother. In their native land may they
In happiness complete a pleasant life.’

To all the altars in Admetus’ house [each
She went, and crowned them all and prayed at
(From myrtle boughs their foliage rending off),
Without a tear or groan: nor did the woe
Ch.

ALCESTIS. 59

‘Which lay on her disturb her-skin’s fair hue :

Then hurrying to her chamber and her bed,
There she indulged in tears, and spake like this:
‘O bed, where first for him for whom I die

I loosed my virgin zone, farewell. No ‘hate

I feel for thee—me only thou’st undone ;

For dreading to betray thee and my spouse,

I die, and other wife shall thee possess,

Perhaps not truer but more blest than I.’

And falling down she kisses it and bathes

The couchall o’er with showers of tears, and when
She had poured flood enough of tears, she hastes
With headlong speed far from the bed, and oft
Going out, she would return and throw herself
Again and yet again upon the couch.

The children, seizing on their mother’s robe,
Were weeping sore: she took them in her arms
And clasped them each in turn before she died.
Throughout the house the servants wept aloud,
Their mistress pitying. Her hand she gave

To each, nor was there one so mean of rank
But she addressed him and received reply.
Such are the evils in Admetus’ house ;

Had he but died indeed, he would have sunk
To nothingness, but now escaping death

He meets affliction which he’ll ne’er forget.
Surely at ills like these Admetus groans

If he must be deprived of wife like her!

He weeps and in his hands he holds his wife
Beloved, and begs of her to leave him not,
Imploring favours thus impossible :

For she doth pine and droop with sickness sore,
Fainting a wretched burthen in his hands.

But, breathing feebly for a little time,

She fain would gaze upon the sun’s bright rays,
Knowing that ne’er again she’ll view his beams
60

ALCESTIS.

And disc, but this her look must be the last.
Now to announce your presence I will go:
For ’tis not all who wish their master well
So as to stand by them in evil times.

But thou of old art to my lord a friend.

SEMICHORUS.

. O Zeus, is there no ’scape from woe,

No rescue from the chance which now
My master’s head with grief doth bow ?

. Shall one come forth, or must I shear

My tresses and the mantle wear
Which dark in hue pourtrays despair ?

. "Tis plain, ’tis plain, my friends: but now

To gods let us address the vow :
The might of gods is great indeed ;

We'll seek their aid in present need.
(All kneel.)

. Apollo! mighty king to heal,

Find for Admetus road from ill.

Some ransom—oh ! some ransom bring
As thou before didst save the king.
Stay now, oh! stay her fleeting breath,
And rescue her once more from death:
Stern Hades’ purpose now prevent,

On savage murder long intent.

. Woe! woe! oh son of Pheres,

How sadly dost thou fare !

Deprived of partner precious

Thou’lt sink in dark despair !

. Are not the sorrows which betide

This house well worthy suicide ?
With inward pain the mind they try,
More than enough to tempt the hand
To tie the cord suspended high
Around the neck with tightened band.
1.

Alc.

Adm.

Alc.

ALCESTIS. 61

Were I to say the wife to part

From thee to-day is dear at heart,

I should the truth but feebly tell.
But she who’s near the shades of hell
The dearest partner was to thee,

The dearest earth shall ever see.

. Behold! behold! the wife and spouse

Are now emerging from the house !

O Pheres’ land, cry out and groan,
The best of women’s death bemoan
With ailment wasted she will go
Beneath the earth to hell below !

That marriage breed resent, joy
Than it doth bring of grief’s alloy,

I ne'er will say. For by the past

I judge and contemplate the last,

The last untoward bitter fate

That’s fallen on the king of late:

A peerless wife he’s lost, and now must spend
A cheerless life that’s no life to its end.

 

ALCESTIS,
Oh sun! and thou the light of day,
And heavenly eddies of the fleecy way !

ADMETUS.

He sees us both, a hapless pair !
Naught doing to the gods on high
For which thou now art doomed to die.
Thou earth! ye palace roofs paternal !
And in Iolchos beds connubial !
Oh! lift thee up, unhappy one!
And leave, ah! leave me not alone.
The gods entreat to avert the blow
Destined to lay my partner low.
I see, I see, the two-oared bark,

And the steersman of the soul.
62

Adm.

Alc.

Adm.

Alec.

Adm.

Ale.

ALCESTIS.

Now Charon grim doth call me! hark!
Leaning upon his pole:

‘Why ling’rest.thou? haste thee! stay me.not !’

And thus impatient speeds me to my lot..

Of gloomy voyage thou did’st tell,

A voyage to the gates of hell.

Alas! what ills afflict me now,

And with their weight my spirits bow !

He drags, he tears me, see him there,

Glow’ring from eyes ’neath shaggy hair,

Winged Hades—to the dead: below.

What doest thou P pray let me go!

Most wretched! what a gloomy way

Doth stretch before mine eyes to-day.

A journey to thy kinsman drear,

But most to me and the children dear

This grief in common we do bear,

And in the same affliction share.

Hold me no more: no more;

But lay me down, for I am weary.

My limbs to stand have lost the power.

Death’s nearing, and his darksome night.

Creeps o’er my failing eyelids’ light.

My children twain, now motherless are ye ;

Farewell—this light may ye long live to see.

Woe! woe! this saddening word I hear

Is worse than death, whatever death drew near.

Forsake me not, by all the gods I pray

And by the children reft of thee to-day !
Rise—cheer thee up !

If thou wert dead I could no longer be,.

To live or not to live depends on thee !

Thy love, sweet wife, a worship is to me!

Thou see’st, Admetus, how my matters stand ;

So, ere I die, I fain would now declare

What I'd have done. From my respect to thee,
ALCESTIS. 63.

And substituting thee to see life’s light

At cost of my existence, I resign

My life for thee when in my power it lay

Not to have died ; for I could well have.wed
Of the Thessalians whom I pleased, and lived
A mistress of some palace in full sway.

But yet I did not wish to live apart

From thee, and with my children orphans left.
Nor did I spare myself though I had gifts,

Of blooming youth in which I took delight,
And though thy father and thy mother both
Betrayed thee, when they well might die for. thee,
And creditably save their son from death :
Thou wert their only son—there was no hope.
They’d other offspring rear if thou hadst. died,
And I and thou had lived the rest of life,
And thou would’st not have groaned bereft. of me,
Thy wife, and of the children thou hadst, ta’en
Due care. But some one of the gods hath thus
These matters brought about: let it be so.
Remember now thou ow’st this, boon, to me ;
One like it I from thee shall never seek.
There’s nothing else more precious than one’s life ;
And just the favour is, as thou wilt say.

For these our children thou dost love no less.
Than I, if thou art well disposed to them.

Rear up these children, lords of this abode,
And never wed a stepdame o’er my sons

' Who, being a woman worse than I, shall lay
Her hand in envy on my bairns and thine.
That never do, I thee entreat: for she

Who in a second marriage stepdame is,

Is hostile to the children born before :

No milder than a viper she. My son

Hath in his father a defensive tower

Whom he can speak to and receive reply ;
64 - ALCESTIS.

But how shalt thou, my child, thy virgin years
Live honourably through: what kind of dam
Shalt thou in her obtain, who’s wed next time
In union with thy sire? May she ne’er cast
An evil eye upon thee, and destroy

Thy marriage in the blooming prime of life.
For never shall thy mother dear preside

When thou art wed, nor give my child away,
Nor present at thy travail strengthen thee,
When naught more gentle than a mother is:
For I must die, not on to-morrow’s dawn,

Or doth this bane the third day of the month
Arrive to me; but now immediately

I shall be numbered with the dead and gone.
Farewell! May you be happy! Thou canst boast,
My husband, that thou hadst the best of wives ;
And you, my children, that you owe your birth
To the best of mothers.

Corus.

Courage! I’m not afraid to speak for him.
This he will do, if sense he lacketh not.

Adm. Tt shall—it shall be so. Oh! fear thou not:
My wife in life, my wife in death shall be—

\ My only wife; and no Thessalian bride

Shall ever call thy doting husband hers.
There’s not a woman excellent as thou
In nobleness of birth and in her frame
As beautiful. Of children I’ve enough;
And may the gods send me delight from these,
For no enjoyment have I had from thee.
My grief'for thee I'll bear, not for a year,
But long as life shall last; while in my sight
Hateful is she who bore me, and my sire
Abhorréd too. In word, and not in deed,
My friends were they: thou savedst me, and gavedst
The dearest thing in ransom for my life,
ALCESTIS. 65

Have I not therefore cause to grieve at losing
Such yokefellow as thou? I'll stop the feast,
The gatherings of revellers, the wreath

And song which filled my house. I will not touch
A lyre; nor could I rouse my mind to make
Discourse on Libyan pipe ; for all life’s joy
Thou’st ta’en away. A figure like to thine,
Brought into near resemblance by the hand

Of skilful artists, shall be laid at length

Within my bed, to which I’ll prostrate fall;
And, spreading out my hand, and calling loud
Thy name, I’ll seem to have my wife beloved
Within my arms, though sooth I have her not.
A poor delight ’twill be, methinks ; but yet

The burthen I shall draw from off my soul :

And in my dreams, oft coming to my side, [sweet
Thou’lt please my mind. E’en in the night ’tis
To see one’s friends, whatever time they come.
But if the tongue of Orpheus and his song

Were mine, so that by charming with my hymns
Demeter’s daughter and her spouse, I might
. Deliver thee from Hades, I’d descend ;

Nor Pluto’s dog, nor Charon, ferryman

Of souls, who’s at his oar, had held me back
Before I brought thee to the light again.
Wherefore expect me there when I shall die.
Prepare a house, that thou mayest live with me:
For [ll enjoin my children to consign

My body to one cedar shrine with thine

And lay us side by side, for e’en when dead

I could not rest if separate from thee,

Who only hast been leal and true to me.

Ch.And I, as friend with friend, will share thy
grief—
Thy bitter grief with thee: for she deserves
. Our sorrow.
F
66 ALCESTIS.

Ale. Ye, children, have o’erheard your sire declare

That he will wed no wife to rule o’er you

Or me to put to shame.
Adm. Now too I say so, and will this fulfil.
Alc. On these conditions take my bairns from me.
Adm. I take them, gift beloved from dearest hand,
Ale. Now in my place be mother to my bairns,
Adm. Needs must I, since they are bereft of thee.
Ale. My children, I depart, when I should live.
Adm. Ah me! deprived of thee, what shall I do ?
Alc. Time shall assuage thy grief; the dead are

naught.

Adm, Take me, by all the gods, with thee below.
Ale. Iam enough, who die in place of thee.
Adm. O Fate, of what a wife thou’rt robbing me.
Alc. Lo! now my darkling eye is drooping down,
Adm. I am undone if thou wilt leave me, wife!
Alc. Deem me as dead already, now no more.
Adm. Lift up thy face: leave not thy children thus,
Alc. Not willingly: my children, fare you well.
Adm. Look on them—look again !

Ale. I am no more,
Adm. What dost thou—dost forsake us ?
Ale, Now farewell !

Adm. I, wretched, am undone!
Ch. She’s gone. Admetus’ wife is now no more!

EuMELvs.

Oh! hard is my lot! my mother’s departed,
No longer she lives in the light of the sun.
Thy life thou hast left and me thou’st deserted,
A destitute course in future to run.
Behold, oh! behold how her eyelash is falling
And herhandsall unnerved hang loose on the ground.
Hear me, mother ! oh, hear me so earnestly calling !
Thy darling doth kiss thee in sorrow profound.
ALCESTIS. 67

ADMETUS.

She hears thee not nor sees. Thus thou and I
Are stricken by a sad calamity.

EvMELvs.

In youth I am left, my dear father, forlorn ;
My mother is gone to the realms of the dead.
T’ve suffered, and, sister, thou sorrows hast borne :
One storm hath descended on each Juckless head.
In vain, O my father, in vain didst thou wed :
With thy wife thou attain’dst not the term of life’s
race ;
She perished before thee, and earth hath she fled.
Without her the house is a desolate place.

Cuorvs.

Admetus, thou must needs these trials bear ;
Thou’rt not the first of mortals, nor the last,
Who’s lost a noble wife: of this be sure,
That death’s a debt that every man must pay.

ADMETUS.

I know it, and not suddenly this woe

Hath come on me; but I have known it long,

And grieved because of it. But now the dead

Shall buried be: be present and remain,

And to the god, by no libation soothed,

In answering verse a pean sing. I bid

That all Thessalians whom I rule shall join

In grief for this my wife, with shaven head

And garment dark in hue. Both ye who yoke

The chariot with four steeds and those with one

Clip short with steel the manes from off their necks,

And through the city’s length no sound of pipes,

No clang of lyre, shall be for twelve full moons:
. ¥2
68 ALCESTIS.

For never shall I bury dearer dead,

And better to myself, than this. From me
Full honour she deserves to have, for she
Alone of womankind for me hath died.

CuHorvs.

1. Daughter of Pelias, may’st thou dwell
Blest in the sunless realms of hell.
May Hades the god with the coal-black hair,
And Charon the ferryman old, beware
(He who sits at his oar and hangs o’er his helm)
That to-day he conducts to the darksome realm,
O’er Acheron’s lake, in his two-oared bark,
The best soul e’er borne to the regions dark.

2. Oft shall the bards thy praises swell
On seven-stringed cords of mountain shell,
And laud thee in hymns by lyre unaided
When the Carnean month in Sparta’s paraded
In its annual round, and the moon all night
Shines on the scene from her lofty height ;
And in Athens blest thy praises shall sound
In temples gleaming o’er holy ground.
By thy noble death thou hast left behind
A theme like this for each minstrel mind.

3. Oh! would that in me the capacity lay
To waft thee back to the light of day
From the chamber of Death and Cocytus’ flood
With a river-scull wrought of infernal wood !
For thou only, O loving and faithful wife,
Didst dare to exchange thy most precious life
To rescue thy husband from the grave,
And, losing thine own, his life to save.
Oh! light may the sod upon thee lie,
And gently tread the passer-by.
ALCESTIS. 69

And should thy spouse take another mate,
He’ll merit mine own and the children’s hate.

4, For e’en when his parents refused to consign
Their limbs to the grave and life resign,
‘When he who begat him and she who bore
(Whose locks long since with age were hoar)
Drew back from the sacrifice, thou didst give
Thy life in its youth that he might live.
Oh! would it were mine to meet such another,
And with such a helpmeet live together !
Such a portion in life ’tis rare to gain:
She’d live with me ever and cause not one pain !

Heracius—Cuorvus—A DMEtUvs.

Her. Strangers who dwell in this Pherean land,
Admetus do I find his house within ?
Ch. The son of Pheres, Heracles, is here.
But say what need brings thee to Thessaly,
And thus to arrive at this Pherean fort ?
Her. A task I have in hand for the Argive king
Eurystheus.
Ch. Where sends he thee? and on what march art
bound ?
Her. For Thracian Diomede’s four chariot-steeds.
Ch. How canst thou? art thou stranger to thine host ?
Her. Yes: the Bistonian land I know not yet.
Ch. Without a fight thou canst not tame these steeds.
Her. And yet these tasks I cannot well decline. [stay.
Ch. Slaying him thou wilt return; or, slain, thou’lt
Her. This would not be the first task that I’d done.
Ch. What more wilt gain, if thou subdu’st their
lord ?
Her. The colts I’ll take to my Tirynthian king.
Ch. ’Tis no slight task with bit to curb their jaws.
Her. If from their nostrils they no fire emit.
70 ALCESTIS.

Ch. But men they mangle with their ravenous jaws.
Her, The food of beasts you speak of, not of steeds,
Ch. Their manger you might see besmeared with
blood. [them up P
Her. What father boasts the man who brought
Ch, Ares, the king of Thracian golden shield. *
Her. This task thou speak’st of Fate compels me to
(For it is ever hard and uphill travelling)
If with the sons whom Ares hath begot
I must contend: Lycaon first, and then
With Cycnus: this engagement is the third
I’m coming to when with the steeds I strive,
And with their lord. But none shall e’er behold
Alcmena’s son fearing the hand of foe.
Ch. Behold Admetus, sovereign of this land,
Himself proceeds from out these palaces.
Adm. Hail! son of Zeus, and sprung from Perseus’
Her. Rejoice, Admetus, King of Thessaly. [blood:
Adm. Would that I could! I know thou’rt well
disposed.
Her, What markest thou with this grief-shaven hair?
Adm, This day a certain corpse I must inter.
Her, Harm from thine offspring may the gods avert !
Adm. The sons I’ve gotten in the house are well.
Her, Thy sire indeed was old, if he is gone.
Adm. He lives and she who bore me, Hercules.
Her. Surely thy wife, Alcestis, is not dead ?
Adm. Of her I have to tell a double tale.
Her, Dost speak of her as dead or yet alive ?
Adm. She lives, and yet lives not ; but me she grieves.
Her. I know no more, for thou dost riddles speak.
Adm. Art ignorant of the fate to which she’s doomed ?
Her. I know she undertook to die for thee.
Adm. How lives she then, if this she hath approved ?
Her. Oh, weep not for your wife before the time:
Till then defer your grief, when she shall die.
‘Adm.
Her.
Adm.
Her.
Adin.
Her.
Adm.
Her.
Adm.
Her.

Adm.
Her.
Adm.
Her.
Adm.
Her.
Adm.
Her.
Adm.

Ch.

Adm.

ALCESTIS. 71

He who was doomed is dead. The dead lives not.

To be and not to be are different deemed.

This way thou judgest, Heracles, I that.

Why dost thou weep? which of thy friends is

A woman—I of woman spake erewhile. [dead ?

Js she a stranger, or one kin to thee P

A stranger, yet in other ways akin.

How, then, did she expire in thy abode P

Her father dying, she lived orphan here.

Alas! would I had found thee free from grief,

Admetus !

With whatintent dost thou patch up thisspeech?

To hearths of other strangers I will go.

Oh! King, it cannot be! let no such ill occur!

Irksome to mourners is the coming guest.

The dead are dead ; now go within the house.

"Tis base to feast with friends bedewed in tears.

The guest-rooms where we’ll lead thee are apart.

Let me but go, and thousand thanks I’]l give.

Impossible that thou another’s hearth

Should’st seek. (To a servant) Lead thou the
way and open out .

The sep’rate guest chambers of this abode,

And order the attendants, who are near,

That ample store of food be quick at hand.

Shut to the middle doors. It is not meet

That those who feast should groans o’erhear,

That they should be annoyed. [nor yet

What doest thou! with such a load of grief,

Dar’st thou, Admetus, thus to welcome guests?

Why art thou indiscreet ?

If I the guest arrived had driven forth

From house and town, would’st thou have
praised me more P

Not so, forsooth! my griefs were nothing less,

And I had more inhospitable seemed ;

 
72 ALCESTIS.

And added to the ills which now I bear,
This other ill had been—that then my house
With rudeness to its guests would have been
Yet I, whene’er I seek the thirsty soil [shamed.
Of Argos, best of hosts aye find this man.

Ch. But how didst thou conceal thy present grief,
On the arrival of a friend, thou say’st ?

Adm. He never would have entered my abode,
If he had known aught of my present woes.
To him, I think, thus acting I appear
Imprudent, and my conduct he’ll not praise ;
But this my palace knows not how to drive
A guest away, or to dishonour them,

Cuorvs—SrRorue.
O house ever liberal, open, and free,
The Pythian Apollo poured honour on thee!
As a shepherd he deigned in thy halls to dwell,
Well skilled to perform on the tuneful shell.
Nor feared he to rove o’er thy slanting ways,
To thy flocks discoursing his pastoral lays.

ANTISTROPHE.
At the charm of his song spotted lynxes stood ’mazed,
And the lions’ red herd left Othrys and gazed ;
And, Pheebus, there danced to thy cheerful line,
The dappled fawn leaving the crested pine ;
With enraptured ear it rejoiced in the sound, ;
And with lightsome pastern tripped o’er the ground.

SrTRopHE.
Wherefore he dwells in a happy home,
Where flocks o’er pastures rich may roam ;
And beside the fair-flowing Boebeian Lake
Their wandering way at will may take.
ALCESTIS. 73.

To his cultured lands and his spreading plains,
Contained in the bounds of rich domains;

For limit he sets (where the westering sun

Stalls his team when his toilsome journey is run),
The Molossian clime. His sway extends

To the portless Algean, where at Pelion it ends.

ANTISTROPHE.

Now he welcomes the stranger with open door,
While tears dim his eye for her who’s no more—
His wife, who late yielded her parting breath,
And resigned her life to untimely death.

Thus the noble of heart for another’s weal

An answering sympathy consciously feel !
Wisdom manifold dwells with the good and true,
And confidence firm doth my mind embue

That the paths of the just he will ever pursue.

Adm. Ye friendly escort of Pherean men,
H’en now, attendants, bear aloft the dead
With all due honours to her grave and pyre.
Do ye, as is the wont, salute the dead,
Now setting out on this her last sad way.
Ch. And lo! I see thy sire, with feeble step,
Draw nigh, and servants bearing in their hands
Adornment for thy wife; the offerings due
Of those beneath.
(Enter PuEres.)
PHERES.

Iam come, my child, thy sorrows sharing in ;
For thou hast lost a noble wife and wise,
None will deny; but we must bear such things,
Although they’re hard to bear. This ornament
Receive from me, and let it go beneath:

Her body it behoves us to respect,

Who gave her life for thine, my son, and died.
74 ALCESTIS.

And childless made not me, nor let me pine,
Deprived of thee, in sorrowful old age:

And with all women made her life most famed,
This noble action daring to perform.

O thou who savedst him and raisedst us,

Who falling were, all hail! And with the dead
May it go well with thee! Such marriages

I do affirm to men bring gain, or else

To marry is not meet.

ADMETUS,
By me invited thou hast not arrived
To join this funeral, nor do I count
Thy presence ’mong my friends; nor shall the dead
Thy ornament put on, nor, needing aught
That thou canst give, shall she be buried: then
Thou should’st have grieved when I was like to die.
Dost thou, who then didst stand aloof and leave
Another who was young to die for me,
When thou wast old, now whimper o’er this corse ?
Thou art no sire of mine, nor yet did she
Who says she bore me, and is mother named,
Bear me in truth: but sprung from slavish blood,
’Neath thy wife’s breast I secretly was placed,
And thou, when put to proof, didst show thyself
In colours true; nor do I take myself
To be thy son. Else all men thou excell’st
In nothingness of soul, who now, advanced
To such an age and on life’s verge extreme,
Wert yet unwilling and in courage fail’dst
To die for me, thy son, but didst permit
This stranger lady in thy place to stand,
Whom I might well account to be to me
In one a father and a mother true.
And yet this contest thou hadst undergone
With honour to thyself, hadst thou but died

y
ALCESTIS. 75

For me: the rest of life for thee to live
At least was short. Thus I and she had lived
Our life’s remaining time, nor left alone
Should I now groan beneath my miseries ;
And all the happiness that man can have
Would have been thine. Thy prime in regal sway
Thou didst enjoy, and I, thy son, was heir
Of these thy palaces ; nor would’st thou thus
Have childless died, nor left thy house forlorn,
For other men to rob; nor could’st thou say
That I, thine age dishonouring, gave thee up
To die, for I to thee most reverent was.
And in return for this, thyself and she
Who bore me have paid back this gratitude !
Hence hasten now, thou canst not haste too much,
Children to rear who in old age shall feed thee,
And deck thy corse, and lay thee out when dead ;
For with my hand I ne’er will bury thee. 3
For I had died, as far as in thee lay;
And if I see the light because I find
Deliverer elsewhere, then I affirm
That I’m his child—his helper in old age. -
Vainly do old men pray that they may die,
Complaining of their age and length of life.
If death come near them, none consents to die,
And length of days to them no more’s a weight
Irksome to bear.

Ch. Desist! Enough, my son, the present woe !
Forbear to lacerate thy father’s mind,

PHERES.

O son, what slave with silver purchaséd,

A Lydian or a Phrygian, dost presume,
That thou with gibing words dost lacerate ?
Dost thou not know that I Thessalian am,
And from Thessalian father sprung, freeborn
76

ALCESTIS.

In very deed ? Thou art too insolent,

And albeit casting rash words at me now,
Thou shalt not hence depart thus casting them.
*T was I begat thee, lordling of my house,

And brought thee up: nor was I bound to die
Instead of thee. I ne’er received this law

As binding on a sire, that for their sons
Fathers should die, nor is the custom Greek.
Born wast thou for thyself, be thy lot good

Or else unfortunate. From me thou hast

All needful rights ; thou rulest many men,

And broad demesnes from me thou wilt receive ;
For from my sire these gifts I did acquire.

In what respect, then, have I injured thee ?
And what shall I deprive thee of ? For me
Refuse to die, and I for thee refuse.

Thou joy’st to see the light and dost thou think
Thy father is not glad? The time below

I count is long, and life is short but sweet.
Thou then hast shamelessly fought off thy death,
And thou dost live transgressing thy fixed doom,
And causing her to die; and then, forsooth,
Revilest thou my narrowness of soul ?

Thou by a woman beat, thou vilest man,

Who died for thee, the handsome youth! Forsooth
Thou’st made a wise discovery, that death
Thou may’st entirely baulk, if thou prevail’st

‘On her who is from time to time thy wife

For thee to die. And dost thou then revile
Thy friends, refusing this to do, when thou

A craven art? Be silent, and this know,

If thou dost love thy life, all men love theirs:
But if thou wilt reproaches cast on us,

Thou shalt in turn receive hard words but true.
Adm.

Pher.
Adm.

Pher.
Adm.
Pher.
Adm.
Pher.

Adm.
Pher.
Adm.

Pher.

Adm.
Pher.
Adm.
Pher.

Adm.

Pher.

Adm.
Pher.
Adm.
Pher.

ALCESTIS. 77

CHORUS.

Too many evil words are uttered now,

And once before. Desist, old man, to cast

Reproaches on thy son.

Speak thou as I have done; if thou dost smart

The truth to hear, ’gainst me thou should’st
not err.

More had I erred if I had died for thee.

Is it the same when one who’s young resigns

His life and one who’s old ?

With one life we must live, and not with two.

A longer life than Jove’s may’st thou attain.

Thy parents dost thou curse, meeting no wrong?

T said so, for I saw thy love of life.

Yet bearest thou not this corse away to save

Thyself P

Proof of thy cowardice, thou vilest man !

For me she died not: this thou canst not say.

Alas! but some day may’st thou need my aid.

Wed many wives, that they may die for thee.

This is reproach to thee: thou would’st not die.

This, the gods’ light, is sweet; ay, sweet indeed !

Thy nature’s evil, and not that of men.

Thou grievest not, as carrying out the corse

Of some old man.

But when thou diest, thou shalt die disgraced.

When I am dead, I care not for reproach.

Oh! oh! how full of shamelessness is age !

She was not shameless, but you found her mad.

Begone! and let me bury this my dead.

T’ll go: thou’lt bury her, whose murderer

Thou art. Yet thou shalt pay the penalty

To thy wife’s relatives. Acastus lives

No more ’mong humankind, except he soon

Avenge his sister’s blood on thee.
78 ALCESTIS.

Adm. Begone, thou and thy wife! childless grow old,
Thy child yet ving, as ye well deserve ;
For ye shall ne’er abide ‘neath the same roof
With me ; and if ’twere needful to renounce
Thy hearth paternal by a liorald’s voice,
I would renounce it so. But let us go
(For we must bear the evil that’s at hand),
That we may put the body on the pyre.

CHoRUS.
Woe! woe!
Through daring thou hast hapless proved,
Oh! noble lady, well beloved !

Farewell!

May Hermes ’neath the Earth thee greet;
There Hades with kind welcome meet;
And if in those dark regions ever
The good are blest in larger measure,
There may such lot thyself betide,

And may’st thou sit near Hades’ bride.
(Biter Servant.)

SERvANT.

Full many guests from many lands I’ve known
Arriving at Admetus’ house. I've set

A meal before them; but I’ve ne’er received

At this my hearth a worse-grained guest than this,
Who, in the first place, seeing my master’s grief,
Came in, and dared to pass the gates; and, next,
He did not modestly receive from him

The entertainment which there chanced to be,

But, knowing our calamity, if aught

We failed to bring, he urged us it to bring ;

And, taking in his hands the cup enwreathed
With ivy, drinks the genuine wine once sprung
From dusky mother, till the liquor’s fames
Enveloped him and warmed him through. He crowns
ALCESTIS. 79

His head in boughs of myrtle, howling out
Discordantly. Two strains you then might hear;
He sang, naught caring for Admetus’ woes,

And we attendants for our mistress mourned ;
But by our eye we did not show the guest

That we were weeping—this Admetus charged.
And now at home I entertain as guest

Some scoundrel thief and robber. But she’s gone
From out the house; nor did I follow her,

Nor stretch my hand, lamenting for my queen,
Who mother was to me and all the house.

For from a thousand ills she rescued us,

Her husband’s anger smoothing down. This guest.
Hate I not justly, then, amid our griefs

Arriving: here ?

HERACLES.

Thou, there, why sad and thoughtfully dost look.?
It is not right a servant toward the guests
Should be morose, but with a cheerful mind
Should welcome them. But thou, beholding me,
Thy master’s friend, at hand, receivest him

With dark and knitted brow, regarding nought
Except the grief without. Come near, that so
You may become a wiser man. Dost know
What character all mortal things possess ?

I trow not—whence could’st thou ? But hark to me,
All mortal men are doomed to die; not one

Can tell if on the morrow he shall live.

It is unknown how fortune will turn out :

It can’t be taught, nor yet attained by art.

This hearing, then, and learning it from me,
Cheer up thyself, and drink and think to-day
Thy life is thine —all else mere things of chance;
And honour Cypris, sweetest of the gods

To men, for she is kind, Let all else go;
‘80 ALCESTIS.

And be persuaded by my arguments,
If I to thee seem to address what’s right.
I think Ido. Then why not drink with me,
Thy grief excessive putting by, and crowned
With wreaths, and opening widethese doors? Full
well
I know the dropping of the can will rouse thee
From thy morose and sullen mood. For we,
Who mortal are, should think as mortals do.
And to all them who’re sullen and morose,
With me for judge, life is no life in truth,
But a calamity.
Ser. We know all this, but now our circumstance
Is not befitting revelry and mirth.
Her, The woman is a stranger who is.dead :
Grieve not o’ermuch—the masters of the house
Do live.
Ser. How live they ? _Know’st thou not the sad events
Which late have happened to the house P
Her.I don’t, unless thy lord hath me misled.
Ser. He’s far—yes, far too hospitably bent.
Her. Is’t wrong to treat me well, simply because
A stranger’s dead P
Ser. A stranger in good sooth she was to us!
Her. Why, then, explained he not his grief to me P
Ser. Go, and farewell! our master’s grief doth vex us.
Her. No foreign sorrow doth this speech excite.
Ser. No: had it been, no grief should I have felt
At seeing thee thus banqueting. Thou cam’st
At an unfitting time to be received
Into the house. Our grief on us doth lie,
And thou dost see our shaven locks and clothes
Of mourning hue.
Her, And who is dead ?—one of the children gone,
Or the father full of age ?
Ser. Well, then, Admetus’ wife is dead, O guest.
ALCESTIS. 81

Her, What say’st thou? yet did he receive me here ?

Ser. He was ashamed to drive thee from his house.

Her. Oh! hapless! what a partner hast thou lost!

Ser. We’re all together lost, not she alone.

Her. Yet I perceived it when I saw the eye
Bedewed with tears—the shaven head and face.
He urged me on, affirming that he bore
Some foreign funeral to the tomb. Despite
My will, when I had passed these doors, I drank
In my kind host’s abode, when placed in this
Most dreadful case; and merry made when

crowned
With garlands round my head. ‘This not to do
*T was thine to tell me, when this heavy gloom
Was pressing on the house. Where buries he ,
His wife ? Where shall I go and find her out ?

Ser. Beside the road which to Larissa leads
Direct, a polished tomb thou’lt see outside
The town.

Her. O heart and spirit mine, which many things
Hast borne, exhibit now what kind of son
Electryon’s daughter, the Tirynthian maid
Alcmena, bore to Jove. Me it behoves
To save the wife who lately died, and place
Her once again in her abode, and grant
This favour to Admetus. I'll proceed
To lie in wait for Death, the dark-robed king
Of all the dead, and him I’ll find, I think,

The dead’s libation drinking near the tomb ;
And if, when I have ambush made and rushed
From out my hiding-place, I shall him seizc,
And make a circle round him with my hands,
There’s not a living man shall set him free,
Much labouring in his sides, before he yield
The woman up tome. But if my prey
I miss, and he declines to come to blood,

a
82

Adm.

ALCESTIS.

I then will go to Koré’s sunless realm,

And to the king’s, and my petition make,

And I believe that I shall bring to life
Alcestis, and restore her to the arms

Of this my host, who took me in his house,
Nor drove me forth, although with sad distress
Afflicted, and concealed from me his grief,

: Respecting me, just like a noble man.

Where would you find in Thessaly a man

Than he more free to friends, or where in
Greece ?

He shall not therefore say that he did good

To one who worthless was, himself being kind,

(Ezeunt, and enter ADMETUS.)

O hateful entrance, and O hateful view

Of this abode to me who visit you.

Ob! woe! alas! alas! where shall I goP
Where shall I stand? and shall I speak or no?
Would I could die !—Oh, hapless mother she
Who gave me birth into the light of day.
The dead I envy and would fain

The mansions dismal there attain ;

I feel no joy the sun to see,

And as a living man to be

Alert with foot upon the lea.

Such hostage Death from me hath torn

And to grim Hades hence hath borne.

Cuorvs.

Advance! advance! and tread the path,
Which toward the house direction hath.

(Adm. Alas !)

We're full well sure
Things worthy groans thou dost endure.
_ALCESTIS. 83

(Adm. Ah! ab!)

To a painful pitch of woe
Thou art come, we fully know,

(Adm. Alas! alas!)

But thou aid’st not her below,

(Adm, Oh! woe’s me!)

Adm.

’Tis sad, before thee ne’er to trace

The features of thy wife’s dear face.
Thou’st named a theme which through my heart
With wounding pain doth piercing dart.
What greater ill can mortal choose

Than faithful wife by death to lose ?

Ob! would that ne’er in wedlock married, |
I in this house with her had tarried !
Those who’re childless and unwed

I have often envied.

Their life is one: for this their care

Is burthen moderate to bear,

Round childhood’s dying couch to linger,
And watch ‘ Decay’s effacing finger :’

To see the bridal couch where death

Hath chilled our wife’s once loving breath,
And with rude hand hath havoc made
Where loving forms erewhile were laid,

Is hard to bear, when all our life

Unvexed by offspring or by wife

We well can live.

Corts.
Hard to struggle with is thy lot,

(Adm. Alas !)

And thy grief thou checkest not,

(Adm. Ab! ah!)

*Tis hard to bear, but be content
To take the fate the gods have sent,

Not the first art thou to lose
a2
84

ALCESTIS.

(Adm. Oh! oh !)

Adm.

gee

Thy loving wife: we can but choose
Each our several lots to bear :

Different men have different care.

Ah! long our griefs and sorrows last,
For friends who ‘neath the earth have passed.
Why didst thou stay my wish to die,
And with my peerless wife to lie?

I fain would throw my body deep

Into the trench where she doth sleep.
Two trustiest souls instead of one
Would Hades thus at onte have won;
Two would have passed the lake infernal
And landed on the shore eternal.

Corts.
I had a kin whose only son at home
Hath died a death that’s full of gloom.
But yet he bore his sorrows well,
Nor cursed the stroke which on him fell.
A childless man—the season hear
When hoary hairs do fast appear—
Advanced in life and in the vale,
When nature’s powers gently fail.

ADMETUS.
O house, how shall I enter thee,

, And in thy walls a dweller be?

Alas! my lot is changing fast !

Between the present and the past

The difference is great ; for then ’twas mine,
With shining torch of Pelian pine

And nuptial song, to enter in,

Bearing meanwhile my wife’s dear hand ;
While at our heels a clamorous band

Of revellers came, and called us blest,
ALCESTIS. « 85

Both me and her who’s laid at rest.
How, nobly-born and claiming birth
From parents of the highest worth,
We wedded were; but now, instead
Of nuptial songs, we wail the dead ;
And, for the bright-hued wedding vest
In dark and mournful garments drest,
I’m ushered to the empty bed,

Where now I lay my lonely head.

Corus.
‘While yet unused to misery,
And basking in prosperity,
This grief arrived. But thou hast saved
Thy life, and she instead hath braved
The day of death, and left behind
Her love for thee. Is’t rare to find
Such conduct true? Death’s hand ere now
From spouse has severed wives enow.

ADMETUS,

My friends, I deem the fortune of my wife

More blest than mine: though circumstances seem
At present the reverse ; for her no grief

Shall reach, and she hath ceased from many toils,
In good repute. But I, who ought to die,

My destined fate escaping, shall live out

A gloomy life: I know it now, for how

Shall I endure to enter at this house ?
Addressing whom—by whom addressed in turn—
Could I attain a happy entrance? Where

Shall I now turn? The gloom within the house
Will drive me forth, when I the empty bed

Of wife behold, the seats in which she sat,

The floor neglected all throughout the house.

And when my children, falling round my knees,
86 ALCESTIS..

Shall ‘mother ’ call, and when the servants groan,
At thinking what a mistress they have lost

From out the house. Affairs at home stand thus:
Without, Thessalian nuptial gatherings,

With women full, will torture me. For I

Shall not endure to see my wife’s compeers

In age; and he who is my foe shall speak

Like this :—‘ Behold the man who basely lives,
Who did not dare to die; but giving up

His wedded wife instead, with coward mind

He hath escaped the grave; and doth he think
Nathless he isa man? He doth abhor

His parents, loth himself to die.’ Such fame
With evil men I shall obtain. My friends,

What boots it me to live, with evil fame

And evil fortune too ?

Cuorvs.

I’ve practised all the arts of song,

And joined in arguments full long,
And viewed the sky.

Nought like Necessity I’ve found

In might, through all the world around,
Nor yet on high.

The Thracian tablets Orpheus wrote,
And all the medicines Phebus brought
To Esculapius’ sons,

None he dispensed to wretched men,
Nothing comprised in mortal ken
Her cure can give.

ANTISTROPHE.

Her altar no man may approach,
Nor dare with safety to encroach
Within her shrine;
ALCESTIS. 87

To sacrifice she pays no heed,
Nor cares that victims e’er should bleed
To honour her.
Revered one, ne’er to me draw nigh
Severer than in days gone by!
For Zeus divine,
Whate’er doth please his sovereign will
With thee to aid, he doth fulfil:
Thou canst subdue
The iron in Chalybean mine,
And by main force its strength refine
For human use.
No shame thy rugged spirit knows,
Relenting nor for friends nor foes,
For ever stern,

SrropHe (38).

Thee with the strong unyielding bands

Of her invincible iron hands,
The goddess seized.

But courage take. No tears avail !

The dead to raise. These ills assail
Offspring of gods.

The issue of their secret love,

Life’s frailty, like ourselves, do prove.
When death arrives,

They pay the debt of mortal doom,

And sink in darkness and the tomb.
Lament no more !

Beloved was thy wife on earth:

The dead below still know her worth,
And love her still.

Of all the wives that men e’er blest,

Thine own, Admetus, was the best !
Nor let her tomb
88 ALCESTIS.

A mound be reckoned o’er the dead ;
’Mong gods let it be honouréd ;
And may it be
An object of adoring fear
With travellers who may sojourn near ;
And one shall say,
Turning from out his road aside,
‘Erewhile she for her husband died,
And now she lives
A goddess, blest in realms above.
Revered one, hail; and do thou prove
Kind to thy race.’
To her sueh words shall be addressed—
Such admiration be expressed.
Admetus, as it seems, Alemena’s son
Approaches towards thy hearth.

(Enter Heracres.)

Her, Admetus, to a friend one ought to speak
Without reserve, nor keep whate’er we blame
In silence at our heart. Thy friend to prove
I worthy deemed myself; amid thy woes
Still standing at thy side. Thon didst not say
The corse laid out was thy own wife; but me
Thou entertainedst in thy house, and mad’st
Believe that for some grief of no concern
To thee thou hadst a care; and I did crown
My head, and to the gods oblation poured

_ In thy grief-fraught abode. I blame thee much,
Receiving this entreatment at thy hands ;

And I am loth to vex thee in thy grief.
But wherefore I am come, thus turning back,

. [ll now explain. This woman take, and keep
In safety till I bring the Thracian mares,
When I have conquered the Bistonian king.
And if I fare not as I trust I may
Adm.

ALCESTIS. 89

(For safely I’d return), I give this maid

To be a handmaid in thy palaces.

With labour great, she came into my hands.

I find some persons who a public match

Proposed to wrestlers, worthy of my toil ;

Whence I this maid receive, and carry off,

As the reward of victory. By those

Who carried off the lesser prize, horses

Were won. Those who the greater bore away—

The wrestling and the boxing-match—received

A herd of oxen. With them came this maid.

And ’twere a shame to me, a looker-on,

To yield this glorious prize. Hence, as I said,

The woman should by thee be safely kept ;

For she’s not got by stealth, but I am come,

Receiving her at cost of labour vast.

Thou wilt in time, perhaps, commend my deed.

Not disrespecting thee, nor counting thee

Among my foes, have I concealed from thee

My wife’s sad fortune? But had I forced thee

To migrate to another’s house, then grief

Would have been piled on grief. Me it sufficed

Mine own misfortune to lament. O-king,

I pray thee, if perhaps ’tis possible,

Bid some Thessalian, who hath not endured

Such woes as I, to keep this woman safe

(Phereans many will be friends to thee),

Remind me not of my calamities.

If I this woman saw within my house,

I could not tearless be. Oh, add not pain,

To one afflicted now; I’ve load enough

Of grief. Where in my house could this young
maid

Be lodged ?—for young she is ’tis manifest,

By her apparel and her gay costume. =, 4

Amid the men’s apartments shall she live P

How undefiled shall she remain if she
90 ALCESTIS.

With youthful men associate? To curb

A young man’s prime is not an easy task,

O Heracles! and I have much concern

For thee. Can I admit her to the bed

Of her that’s dead, and so sustain her state ?
How can I bear her in my first wife’s couch ?
I fear a double blame, both from the mob,
Lest some one me reproach with lying down
In other maiden’s bed, when I’d betrayed

My benefactress. Of the wife that’s dead.

T needs must have great care, and worthy she
That I should worship her. And, lady, know,
Whoe’er thou art, thou dost possess the lines
Of outward form lke to Alcestis’ form,

And that in person thou resemblest her.

Ah me! I pray you by the gods convey

This woman from my sight. Destroy me not,
Destroyed already ; for on seeing her

I think I see my wife: it pains my heart,
And from my eyes the streams gush out. Ah me!
Now do I taste indeed this bitter grief.

i

Cuorvs.

I could not praise thy lot, but yet we needs
Must bear the portion which the gods dispense,
Whoe’er he be that comes on us.

Her. Would that I had such power that I could bring
Thy wife to life from mansions of the dead,
And grant this boon to thee !

Adm. I know thou hast the will; but how could this
F’er be? It is not possible the dead
Should come to light.

Her. Keep within bounds and bear becomingly.

Adm. ’Tis easier to exhort than bear our lot.

Her. What would’st thou gain if thou would’st ever

mourn P
ALCESTIS. 91

Adm. I’m ’ware of it; but grief doth urge me on,
Her. Yes, for to love the dead brings forth our tears.
Adm. She hath destroyed me more than I can say.
Her. Thou hast lost a noble woman, who'll deny ?
Adm. So that I find no pleasure now in life.
Her, Time shatl assuage thy woe, as yet ’tis strong.
Adm, Time thou might’st say, if time it were to die.
Her. A wife and longing for alliance new

Will cause thee to desist.
Adm. Hist. What did’st say? I have not thought of it.
Her. What! wilt not marry, but remain for aye

A widower ?
Adm. No woman living shall beside me lie.
Her. And dost thou think by this to serve the dead ?
Adm. She needs must honoured be where’er she is.
Her. Indeed I praise thee; but thou dost incur

The charge of folly. [never.
Adm. Praise me or not, thou’lt see me bridegroom
Her. As to thy wife a faithfal friend I praised thee.
Adm. Td rather die than her betray, though dead.
Her. Now in thy noble house this maid receive.
Adm, Not so, I pray thee, by thy father Zeus.
Her. And yet thou shalt do wrong not doing this.
Adm, And if I do, then grief will gnaw my heart.
Her. Let me prevail on thee, perhaps this boon

Will fall on thee just in the nick of time.
Adm. Ah me!

Would thou hadst ne’er received her from the
Her, And yet thou in the victory partak’st, [fight!

With me the conqueror.
Adm. Thou’st spoken well; but let the woman go.
Her. She'll go if need; first think if need there be.
Adm. There’s need if thou with me wilt not be
Her. I am thus eager, for I know a thing. [wroth.
Adm. Prevail and yet thou actest ’gainst my will.
Her. Thou’lt praise me sometime if thou wilt accede.
92

Adm.

Her.

Adm.

Her.

Adm.

Her.

Adm.

ALCESTIS.

Conduct her in, if her I must receive. -

The maid I’ll not give up to serving men.
Lead her within thyself if thou think’st well.
I'll her confide into thy hands myself.

I will not touch her, but go in she may.

In thy right hand alone I her entrust.

Against my will, O king, thou forcest me
This thing to do.

Her. Dare to stretch forth thy hand and touch thy guest.

Adm.

Her.

Adm.

Her.

Adm.

Her.

Adm.

Her.

Adm.

Her.

Adm.

Her.

Adm.

Her.

Adm.

I stretch it as I would to headless Gorgon.
Dost have her ?

Ay.

Then safely keep her, man.

And thou shalt say Jove’s son ’s a noble guest:
Examine her and see if she be like
Thy wife, and then, being fortunate, desist
From sorrow.
O gods, what shall I say? A wonder this
Unlooked for! I indeed behold my wife,
Or doth some joy delusive from ibe gods
Distract my mind ?
Not so; in her thou seest thy wife indeed.
Beware lest this some ghostly phantom be.
Thou hast not thought thy guest could spirits raise.
And do I see the wife which I interred ?
Be sure tis true, and yet I wonder not
Thou dost distrust thy fortune good.
And may I handle her and her address
As my true, living wife ?
Address her, for thou hast all thou dost wish.
Oh! eye and figure of my wife most dear,
Unhoped for I thee clasp, not thinking I
Should ever see thee more.
Thou hast her; may no grudge from gods arise.
O highborn son of mightiest Zeus be blest,
And may thy sire protect thee; thou alone
Her.
Adm.

Adm.
Her.

Adm.
Her.
Adm.

ALCESTIS., 93

Hast rectified my lot. How didst thou bring
My wife to this the light from earth beneath ?
I fought with him who’s chief of those below.

Where didst thou say that thou didst strive
with Death ?

. Beside the tomb itself I with my hands

Did seize him from his hiding place.

Why stands this woman speechless here, I pray ?
Not yet ’tis lawful thou should’st hear her speak,
Before that she by offerings is released

From consecration to the gods below,

And till the third day come ; but lead her in,
And, like a just man, for the future treat
With reverence thy guests; and now farewell,
Admetus ! I will go and hasten on

My portioned task for Sthenelus’ son, the king.
Abide with us and jointly share our hearth.

In future this shall be; now I must haste.
May’st thou be blest and come with safety back!
The citizens I bid, and all the realm,

To set up dances at my happy lot,

And make the altars odorous with vows

And sacrificial prayers; for now my life

Is for the better changed from what it was
Before. I'll not deny that I am blest.

Corus.
Many forms events acquire,
Which the deities inspire.
Many things the gods effect
Otherwise than men expect.
Things we looked for oft have failed,
And to nothingness have paled ;
And for things undreamt of, they
Oft have found successful way.
Thus hath ended this event,
In a way that brings content.
 
HIPPOLYTUS.

—O——

APHRODITE,

I, Cypris, among men and in the sky,

And with all those who dwell within the sea,
And who in bounds Atlantic view the sun,

A goddess am of dignity and fame.

Those who regard my power I honour most,
Them I discomfit who me view with scorn.
For, in the race of gods, this trait is seen,

That when by men they’re honoured, they rejoice,
The truth of this my speech I'll quickly prove:
For Theseus’ son, sprung from the Amazon*—
Hippolytus, chaste Pittheus’ foster-child,
Alone of all Troezene’s citizens

Declares that of the gods I am the worst,

And wedlock he disdains and will not touch
The marriage-bed.. Zeus’ offspring—Artemis,
And Pheebuys’ sister, he adores, and deems
That she of all the gods is most renowned ;
And, with the maid consorting frequently
Amid the verdant wood, he makes away

With vermin from the land by help of dogs
Fleet in the chase, and lights on greater things
Than intercourse with men. His choice in this
I grudge him not. Why need I?—but whereas
He has this.day offended me, I’ll take

My vengeance on Hippolytus. And since

* The English pronunciation, Am%zon, is retained throughout
the play. ;
96 HIPPOLYTUS.

I have in many ways advanced in this

A long time past, I have not much to do.

For once when Pittheus’ house he left and reached
Pandion’s land to view the spectacle,

And in the'rites of solemn mysteries

Take part, Pheedra, his father’s high-bred spouse,
On seeing him, was in her heart subdued

With burning love for him, by my decree.

And ere she came to this Troszenian land,

By Pallas’ very rock, facing this shore,

She built a shrine to Cypris, struck with love
Yor alien youth, and gave out afterwards

That for Hippolytus the goddess’ shrine

Was built. But now since Theseus quits the land
Of Cecrops, from the taint of Pallas’ sons,

Slain by his hand, escaping, and doth sail

To this land with his wife, and vows to spend

A year’s exile from home, she, wretched one,
Pierced with love’s stings and groaning out her days,
In silence dies away, and her complaint

None of the household know. ’Tis no way fit
This passion should in this way fall to naught.
To Theseus I’ll reveal the circumstance

And all he plot shall be declared. His sire
Shall slay my foe, assisted by the prayers

Which once Poseidon, the sea king, conferred
As a boon on Theseus, so that ne’er in vain

He thrice should pray to any god. Phaedra

Is of a fair repute, but she must die.

Her evil case I will not so regard

As that my foes shall not pay back to me

Such penalty as shall be rightly due.

But I discern approaching Theseus’ son,
Hippolytus ; the labour of the chase

He just hath left. I will myself retire

From hence; a band of many serving men
HIPPOLYTUS. 97

Close following at his heel, have clamour made
While Artemis divine in hymns they praise.
Unconscious he that now the gates of hell

Are opened, and he sees this his last day.

(Hipronyrus with attendants enters.)

Hrprouytvs,

Follow, comrades, follow me,
And chant the heaven-born child of Zeus,
Artemis, whom we adore.

Yourus.

Saintly, saintly, most revered
Zeus and Leto’s offspring, hail!
Artemis of maidens fairest
Who in spacious heaven abidest.
In the hall of noblest sire—
Zeus’ abode of boundless gold.

Hiprortvs.

Hail! thou fairest Artemis !

Fairest of Olympian maids !
Mistress, I bring to thee a twisted wreath,
Which from the unmown meadow I procured,
Where not the shepherd dares to feed his flock
And where no steel has passed ; the bee alone
In springtime traverses the uncut lea.
Shame’s self doth nourish it with river dew.
To all who naught possess of learning’s lore
And who by nature have allotted them
Sound views on all things in a like degree,
To these alone to pluck it ’tis allowed,
Not to the base. ... But, mistress dear, accept
This headband for thy golden locks of hair
From sinless hand. To me alone of men
This gift belongs. . . With thee I converse hold,

H
98

w

RehReryeahahuerautyeutnyn

HIPPOLYTUS.

With thee enjoy an interchange of speech,
Thy voice perceiving but thy sight denied.
And may I reach, thus favoured, life’s decline,
As I have seen its primal morning dawn!

Since the great gods are rightly called our lords,
O prince, good counsel wilt thou take of me ?

. Yea, surely, else should I seem fool indeed.

Know’st thou that habit which *mong men pre-
I know it not. What dost thou ask about? [vails?
Men hate big folk, as void of kindliness.

. And fairly. Are not haughty men a pest?

Is there a grace in men of courteous mien ?

. No small delight and gain with little toil.

And think’stthou thatthe gods thussee things too?
Yes: since we mortals rule our lives by them.
Why, then, dost not adore that goddess great ?
Which one ? be careful lest thy mouth should err.
Cypris, who o’er thy gates hath long time watched.

. Being chaste myself, I greet her distantly.

Still she’s august and honoured among men.

. Hach has his likings among gods or men.

Good luck to thee, if but thy mind be sound.

. Llike no god whom men admire by night,

*Tis right, my son, to give the gods their due.

. Go, comrades, and departing to your homes

Partake of nourishment: the well-stored board
After the chase is pleasing: needs that J

Should rub my horses down, that, when with food
Refreshed, I neath the car may harness them
And train them in the exercise prescribed :

I to your Cypris bid a long farewell. (Hzit H.)
And we—for youths we must not imitate,
Thinking that thus’tis fitting slavesshould speak—
Cypris, our queen! will worship at thy shrine.
Should any one of these some folly speak,
HIPPOLYTUS. 99

Youth’s high-strung nature prompting him thereto,
Thy pardon grant nor seem to hear. ’Tis right
The gods should wiser be than mortal men.

Crorus—Srrorus (A).

A rock there is, report doth say,
Dropping oft with ocean spray,

Which from its heights pours out a burn,
Wherein they dip the brimming urn.
There a maid beloved by me,

On the rock’s warm sunny lee

Spreads her robes of purple hue,
Steeping them in river dew.

ANTISTROPHE (A).

Thence the early rumour rose
That my mistress, self-confined,
On unhealthy pallet pined,
And that vesture, lightly spread,
Gently veils her golden head.
This the third day is, I hear,
That she keeps her body clear
From the sustenance of bread,
In ambrosial mouth received :
Bent with hidden grief to flee
Into death’s sad boundary.

Stropxe (B).

Inspired of Pan or Hecate,

Or by the priests of Cybele,

Or by the mother wild possest,

Frenzied, maid, thou wanderest.

Guilty of some trespass grave

Toward Dictynna, patron maid

Of all beasts in forest glade,
H2
100

HIPPOLYTUS.

Thou art wasting thus away
Failing offering due to pay:
Marshy lake she traverses,

Dry land and the damp sea waves
On the eddies of the sea.

ANTISTROPHE (B).
Or doth some couch in palace walls,
Secret from thy bed, in thralls,
Rule thy husband, Athens’ head,
And from ancient lineage led ?
Or from Crete hath seaman bound,
Sailed to harbour kindly found
By the mariners, and brought
Tidings to the queen distraught ?
On her sickly couch confined,
Is her soul to grief resigned
At the sufferings of friends ?

Stropue (B).
*Tis else the evil raving weakness
Of child-pangs and helpless madness
Which o’er woman’s wayward mood
Loves in pregnancy to brood.
Once my womb this affection did invade,
And to Artemis I made
Supplication—Artemis divinely blest,
Kind in travail to assist—
Patroness of Archery.
Ever she resorts to me—
With the gods the mark of envy !

But see in front the aged nurse emerge
Leading abroad from home her charge.

The eyebrows’ hateful cloud doth grow:
What can her soul desire to know ?
What hath marred her queenly face
Changed in colour, robbed of grace ?
HIPPOLYTUS. 101

NouRSE.

Oh! the ills and hateful ailments
Which the race of man disturb!
How to judge of various treatments,

How thy fickle passions curb,

What abandon or pursue,

Where to find attractions new

Quite distracts me. Doth it please,
On the litter of thy bed,

This bright sunshine and the breeze

Briefly to enjoy. Perchance
Thou wilt hie within again.

Little doth thy mood entrance.

Joy thou dost not long retain :

Quickly thou art foiled: thy mind
Doth in nothing take delight ;

In the present thou canst find
Naught but disappointment’s blight;

And the absent seems to be

Friendlier and more true to thee.

Better to be sick than pine
In the bondage of a serf.

One is simple, but there twine
Round the other mental grief
And the labour of the hands.
Painful is the life of man,

From distress is no repose ;
Brief enduring is its span,

Care and toil its whole compose.
Better life with prospects new
Stretches out beyond the view,
But the darkness of the night
Wraps and hides it from the sight.
With the present life we seem

Sick in love—for on the earth
102

HIPPOLYTUS.

Doth its humble pathway gleam.
Inexperience and a dearth

Of more satisfying proof

Keeps our darkling mind aloof

From the lot of them who go

To the shadowy world below.

We are only borne away

With vain fables and hearsay.

PHEDRA.
Lift my body, raise my head;
Ease me, friends, upon my bed.
Loosened are my sinew-bands :

Hold, attendants, hold my well-set hands.

Hard it is the weight to bear

Of this headband round my hair;
Take it hence, and unconfined
Let my tresses fall behind.

Norse.
Courage take, my child, and cease
Fretfully to toss thy frame.
Lighter burthen thou wilt find,
If, with well-bred, quiet mind,
Thou thy pain resolv’st to bear,
And life’s ills with patience share.
Suffering is the lot of man
Since the universe began.

PHADRA.

From dewy spring a draught I crave,
Which my parchéd lips may lave ;
And beneath the poplar trees

I would rest and take mine ease,
And in grassy mead reclining

Quiet find for mind repining.
HIPPOLYTUS. 103 -

Norse.

Child, why wailest thou so long,
And repeat’st this mournful song ?
Thou shalt ne’er with tumult vain
Reiterate this sad refrain,

Nor, indulging in thy sadness,
Utter words bestrid with madness.

PHADRA. ~

Lead me to the mountain side;

To forest glades and pines I'll glide,
Where the dogs, of beasts the bane,
At sweet will to roam are fain.

Tl pursue the spotted deer.

, How, by the gods, I love to cheer
With a shout my dogs, and toss
The Thessalian lance across
My full yellow hair, and lift
In my hand the barbed arrow swift !

Noursz.
Why, O child, art thou distraught
At matters which affect thee naught ?
In the chase what dost thou find
To attract or please thy mind ?
Do the waters of a spring
To thy heart some comfort bring P
Near this fort there stands a hill
Wet with many a dewy rill,
Where with ease thou canst obtain
A dranght to stay thy present pain.

PHEDRA.

O Artemis, queen of the briny lake,
And of games wherein prancing hoofs resound,
104 HIPPOLYTUS.

As the horses tramp on the dusty ground.
Oh! would I were now on thy outspread plains,
Colts of Enna subduing with mastering reins!

Norse.

Why again, in mood excited,

Hast thou this mad speech indited ?
With eager will thou didst but now
Start for game to mountain brow ;
Now again along the sand,

Where, unwashed by waves, the land
Leaves a margin, thou didst speed

To subdue the fiery steed.

Surely signs of divination

Are these marks of aberration.
Doubtless, some god’s misguiding wrath
Draws thee, child, from reason’s path,
And perverts thy previous gladness
With despondency and madness.

Pappa.

Unhappy me! what have I done ?
Whither from sound reason run ?
Ihave raved, and by the hate

Of some deity irate,

Borne resistless, I have sunk.
Woe! unhappy ! hide my head ;
Shame I feel at what I said.

Hide me, nurse, for now the tear
From my lids, like dewdrop clear,
Trickles down, and in my shame
At incurring recent blame,
Bashfully my eye is turning,

And my cheek with blush is burning.
HIPPOLYTUS. 105

In our views to be correct,
And consistency affect,

Is a task involving pain ;
Madness brings with it a stain.
*Tis best unconsciously to be
‘Whelmed in reckless destiny.

Nurse.

I conceal it. "When shall death,
Taking back my fleeting breath,
Cover o’er my mortal frame
With the dust from whence I came P
In the bonds of mutual love
Mortal men it doth behove
Moderate and subdued to be ;
Nor in warm intense degree

In the heart’s deep inward core,
Cherish friendship evermore.
Easy to dissolve and sever,

Not to bind the soul for ever,
Easy to reject and weld,

In a new connexion held,
Loosely held and sitting free
Should the soul’s affections be.
That one mind should suffer pain,
And be grieved at sorrows twain—
‘Both another’s and my own—
Just as I for her bemoan,

This is burthen hard to bear.
Life’s refinements oft I hear
Rather hinder than impart
Satisfaction to the heart.

Better is the lesser share,

As philosophers declare,

Than to have in larger measure
Fortune’s overflowing treasure.
106 HIPPOLYTUS.

Ba Ba

Q

QZ a2za

2

Cxorus.
O venerable lady, faithful nurse
Of Phedra, sovereign queen, I can perceive
Thy present fortune’s sad. What her complaint
May be, to me is quite unknown; we wish
To enquire and ascertain of thee the cause.

. I know not, though I’ve questioned her ;

For to reveal it she will not consent.
Nor what the outset was of these mishaps ?

. Thou harpest on one string; for dumb she keeps

On all these points.

So that her frame she weakens and dries up.
How should she rest? this day is now the third
That never food hath pass’d her lips.

Is it that she is lying "neath a curse,

Or doth she strive to die P

. To die she strives; herself she famishes

Till she shall come to life’s collapse.
Thou saidst a wondrous thing, if to her spouse
This matter’s satisfactory.

. She hides her woe, and owns not she is sick.

But can he not, by looking in her face,
Discover signs thereof ?

. Out of the land he chances now to be.

But canst not thou employ some urgent means,
While thou dost strive her malady to know,
And her insanity of mind ?

. To every means I’ve had recourse; but naught

Have I effected more. Not even now

Shall I my zeal relinquish, so that thou,

Being present, may’st thy witness add to mine,
How I have dealt with my unhappy queen.
Come, my beloved child, our past disputes

Let both forget ; and thou more gentle be,
Forsaking thy sad brow and tone of thought.
23 25 2 WSN

HIPPOLYTUS. 107

Myself, quitting the track where once not well

I followed thee, will now proceed to take
Another and a better theme; and if

With some complaint not to be named thou ail’st,
These are the women who can manage it.

But if thy malady may be divulged

To males, then speak, that this may be revealed
To men of healing skill. Well; speak’st thou not?
No cause hast thou, my child, speechless to be,
But either shouldst reprove me if I say

Aught incorrectly ; or, with wise remarks,
Concur. But something utter: look this way :—
Unhappy that Iam! .. . Ladies, in vain,
These efforts we pursue. We are as far

As formerly from our intent: for then

By my discourses she was unimpressed,

And now she’s. not convinced ; but yet

Be sure of this (and thou be more self-willed
Than all the sea), that if thou diest, thy sons
Thou dost betray: for in that case they ne’er ”
Shall in their father’s house a share obtain.

No; by the Amazon, the equestrian queen,

Who o’er thy sons a lordling despot bore,

One who, though base-born, hath a noble aim :
Thou know’st him well. I mean Hippolytus.
Woe’s me!

. And doth this touch thee ?

Thou hast undone me, Nurse! to him no more

Allusion make, I pray thee by the gods.

Dost see it then? thou judgest right, and yet

Thou wilt not aid thy sons and save thy life.

I love my bairns; in other chance I’m tossed.

And dost thon, child, hold hands unstained by
blood ?

My hands indeed are pure, my mind is stained.

Hath any foreign foe wrought thee some harm ?
108 HIPPOLYTUS.

yo z= ie wy Bey BZ NEN Sn Ben ane NSdaranar

A friend unwilling harms me ’gainst my will.
Hath Theseus wrought some trespass against thee?
May I be never seen to have done him wrong.

. What dreadful thing, then, urges thee to die P

Permit me to offend: I wrong not thee.

. Not willingly ; on thee I shall depend.

What! dost compel me, hanging on my hand ?

. Yes, and thy knees I never will let go.

These ills, if thou dost hear them, hapless one,
Will evil be indeed to thee.

What greater ill to me than thee to lose ?
Thyself shalt die; but I shall credit gain. [thee ?

. And wilt thou hide good things when I entreat

Yes; for from things corrupt I good contrive.
By speaking, then, thou wilt more noble seem.
By all the gods depart and yield my hands.
Never, for thou deny’st the boon I crave.
T’ll give it; I respect thy hand’s religion.
I’m silent now, the speaking hence is thine.

O hapless mother !
With what a fatal passion didst thou love!
The fondness for the bull which mastered her,
Or what is this thou sayest ?
‘And wife of Dionysus, kin unblest !

. What ails thee, child ?: dost thou revile thy kin ?

And hapless I, the third, how I’m undone ?

. ['m thunderstruck! where will thy speech pro-

ceed ?

From that same cause not recently our house
Hath been unfortunate.

. | know no more which I do wish to hear.

Alas! ..
Would thou couldst say for me, what I must

. No prophet I, to clearly comprehend [speak.

Things which to me are not intelligible.
What’s this they say, that men do fall in love ?
2 NZ Nane

HIPPOLYTUS. 109

. A thing, my child, at once most sweet and painful.
. I then must have sustained the latter lot. [child ?
. What say’st thou? dost thou love some man, my

Him I do love, whoever is the son
Of the Amazon.

. Art thou alluding to Hippolytus ?

From thy own self, and not from me, this fact

Thon dost obtain.
. Woe’s me! what wilt thou say, my child ?

How hast thou me undone! no longer bear,
Ladies, to live. I shall not life endure.
Hateful to me’s the day, the light I see

Is hateful. Tl fling off and put aside

My frame—by dying I’ll depart from life :
Farewell. Ido exist no more. The good,
Not willingly yet really, are in love

With what is base. No goddess Cypris was;
But if there’s something greater than a god,
She must be this, to have destroyed myself,
My mistress, and the house entire.

Crorus—StTROPHE.

Ye have heard, have heard the queen—
At her piteous woes complain ;
Woes unheard of. I would fain
Be extinct ere thou fulfil,

Friend, the purpose of thy will.
For thy sorrows hapless thou !—.
Oh the toils which feed on men!
Thou hast perished, and thy woes
To the light thou hast revealed.
What daily life awaits thee ndw ?
To the house some evil new
Shall occur. - No'‘more unknown,
Where the lot of Cypris ends.

O unhappy Cretan child !
110 HIPPOLYTUS.

PHEDRA.

-Troozenian women, who this farthest port

Of Pelop’s land inhabit, long ere now,

During the lengthy watches of the night

I’ve vainly cogitated, why the life

Of men hath been destroyed. To me they seem,
Not with the grain of their own sentiments,
To be unusually unfortunate.

For many men the gift of wisdom have ;

But yet this fact must be regarded thus.
What’s good we know and fully understand,
But fail to work it out; from indolence

A few ; others, discarding honest aims,

Some different pleasure set themselves to find.
The charms of life indeed are manifold,

And there are lengthy gossipings and ease,—
An ill delight !—and modesty: twofold

Are they—not bad the one—the bane of life
The other is. If manifest the time,

Two kinds (of modesty) there would not be,
Bearing one name. Since this I chanced to know
Already, there remained no recipe

By which I might adopt a different view.

To thee I will unfold my mode of thought.
When love first wounded me, I cast about
How best I could endure it: I commenced
From this time forward to remain dumbstruck,
And to conceal this malady. The tongue

Is not to be confided in, which skills

The sentiments of neighbours to direct—

But which much harm encounters from itself.
Then, secondly, I warily devised

To bear with patience my infirmity,

With prudence mastering it. Since thus I failed
To vanquish Cypris, thirdly, I resolved
HIPPOLYTUS, 111

"Twas best to die, and my intentions none

Shall ere gainsay. May ’t never be my lot

To do what’s right concealed, nor yet to do
What's wrong before a crowd of witnesses.

I knew the deed and eke the remedy’

Were both of ill repute. Besides, I knew

Full well I was 2 woman, hateful thing

To all. May she to evil come who first

With strangers ’gan to shame her wedding couch.
From high-born houses this disgrace attached
Its stain to females. For when shameful things
Receive the sanction of the good, they’llseem .
Correct to evil men. I do abhor

The women who in speech wisdom profess,

But harbour secretly intentions bold.

How can they—O thou Cypris, Ocean Queen !—
Look unabashed into their husband’s face,

And feel no dread at darkness, their compeer,
And at the chambers of the house, lest voice
They should emit? This apprehension, friends,
Is my undoing, lest I should be found

To have disgraced my spouse or them I bore.

I rather wished that, unrestrained and free,
With open face, they flourish might, and dwell
In Athens the renowned, of good repute,

As far as I, their mother, was concerned.

It doth enslave a man, though bold of heart,
When he is conscious of his father’s deeds

Of evil name, and of his mother’s sin.

They say that this alone contends with life

In price, that one, to whom it appertains,
Should have a fair and good repute. Time hath,
When so it chance, exposed the bad to view,
Holding a mirror up as to a girl.

Among this number may I ne’er be found.
112 HIPPOLYTUS.

Cuorvs.
Alas! alas!
Discretion everywhere in honour’s held,
And with mankind a fair repute it reaps.

Norsz.

But lately, mistress, thy calamity

Caused me to fear with sudden dread; but now
I own I was unwise. With mortal men

More prudent in a way are second thoughts.
For no unusual thing or aught beyond

The pale of calculation dost thou feel.

The anger of the goddess rushed on thee :

Thou art in love. What wonder ? Thou dost keep
With many more, in this, close company.

And wilt thou then for love thy life destroy ?
Those who their neighbours love, or who intend
Henceforth to love, no benefit derive

If they must die. For Cypris, if she come

In her full force, is then unbearable.

She quietly invades a willing slave ;

But if she find a more uncommon man,

And one of lofty thought (how thinkest thou ?)
She’s wont to affront him wantonly. Aloft

In air doth Cypris travel, and she’s found

On ocean-wave, and all things sprang from her.
*Tis she who soweth love and giveth it:

From her descended, we on earth do spring.

All who possess the writings of old men,

And who themselves are sometimes conversant
With the Muses, know how Zeus was once impressed
With longing for the bed of Semele:

They know how, all for love, fair shining Hos
Bore Cephalus by force up to the gods.
Howbeit, in heaven they dwell, nor can effect
HIPPOLYTUS. 113

Escape from gods. They rest content, subdued,
I ween, by what’s their lot. And wilt not thou
Endure it ? Then thy sire on settled terms
Should have begotten thee, or ‘neath the sway
Of other gods as rulers, if these laws

Which now are ’stablished thou wilt not abide,
How many men, think’st thou, endued with sense,
Seeing their married life disturbed, pretend
They see it not ? How many an anxious sire
Doth aid his erring sons in bearing love !
Among the wise this happens, ‘ To forget
What’s base and low.’ Men need not labour out
With undue care their lot in life, nor fit

With rule exact the roof with which the house
Is covered in. To this position come,

How meanest thou from out of it to swim P

If thou a larger share of good things hast

Than of the ill, being mortal, thou dost fare
Indifferent well. . . But, child beloved, desist
From these thy, evil thoughts, and now renounce
Presumption, for naught else than scorn is this:
To wish to be superior to the gods

Is rashness fond. The deity hath this

Decreed, As thou art sick, an end discreet

Put to thy sickness. There are spells and words
Of soothing force: a remedy we'll find

Forthy complaint. Long time would men haveta’en
To find it out, did not we women scan

The needful means:

Crorvs.

This woman, Phedra, speaks what’s well advised
For this immediate case; but thee I praise,
And this my praise more irksome is to thee,
And painfuller to bear, than her remarks.

I
114 HIPPOLYTUS.

P. This same to ruin brings well:peopled towns
And families. I mean these o’erfair words.

For ’tis in no ways needful, things to say
Which only please the ear, but that wherefrom |
A man shall grow of good repute.

N. Why speak in solemn phrases ? Specious words
Thou hast no need of, but a man; full soon
Thou must decide who speak plain truth of thee ;
For if thy life was not’ involved in these mishaps,
Thou wouldst a prudent woman be. For ne’er
Up to this point would I have led thee on
By reason of thy passion or self-will.

But this a struggle is to save thy life,
And this to do is not begrudged of me.

P. O dreadful-speaking shrew! wilt thou not close
Thy mouth, and eheck—again I say the same—
Thy words most scurrilous.

N. They’re scurrilous, but wholesomer for thee
Than speeches fair. Better the- deed,

If thee ’twill save, than e’en the lofty name
In which exulting thou wilt die.

P. I pray thee by the gods (I grant that well
Thou speakest but abusively) proceed
No further, since in mind I’m quite subdued
With love:—EH’en though thou deck thy speeches

harsh
With glozing words, on that, from which I fly,
I shall be wholly offered up.

N. If this thou hast determined on, to sin

Thou hast no need. If not, hearken to me:

For this the next advantage is. I have

Within the house enchantments which can soothe
Thy love, and to my knowledge there hath come
Of late that which will disentangle thee

From this complaint, if thou art not perverse.
But needs thou must receive from thy beloved
2s 2 2 ON

HIPPOLYTUS. 115

Some sign, some word, or from his robes a part,
And from the two one boon amalgamate.

As ointment is the remedy applied,

Or to be drunk P

. I know not; be content a boon to gain,

And try not to discover now, my child.
I fear thou may’st turn out o’erwise for me.

. On all things apprehensive sooth thou art ;

But what dost thou forebode ?

. I fear lest to my hurt thou dost reveal

Aught of the present case to Theseus’ son.

. Let me alone, my child: this I'll arrange

With prudence: do but thou, O Cypris, queen
Sea-born, be my co-partner. All things else
Which I contemplate, twill suffice

To mention to my friends within.

CHorus—StroruE (A).
Through the eyes thou dost instil
Love! O Love! a longing will,
Lending to their mind delight,
Whom thou invad’st in warlike might.

Ne’er me visit with thy bale,
Measureless ne’er me assail.
For not the lightning’s fiery dart,
Nor the loftier flash the stars impart,
None with Aphrodite’s lance compare,
Which from Eros’ hands in air—
Eros, son of Zeus—is hurled
On its errand to the world,

ANTISTROPHE (A).
On Alpheus and in the Pythian haunts
Of Pheebus, vainly Hellas vaunts
Of slaughtered kine, the offering.

To Love, of men the sovereign king,
1%
116

NHANWAN

HIPPOLYTUS.

Love who hath in custody

Of Cypris most-loved bowers the key—
To him who havoc spreads around,
And begirt with grief profound,

When he comes, doth men invade,
Adoration none is paid.

SrropHe (B).

A damsel strange to marriage yoke,
Bride husbandless, and unbespoke,
Carrying her from home by sea,

With a hapless blood-stained glee,

*Mid blood and fire and song connubial—
Like a raving Bacchanal—

Cypris gave Alemena’s son.

Oh! by marriage songs undone !

ANTISTROPHE (B).

Oh! sacred wall of Thebes,
Oh! mouth of Dirce,

Assist me to relate in song
How the Cyprian creeps along.
for with fiery thunder deep,
She with sanguinary lot,
Bacchus’ parent, Jove-begot,
When she wedded, laid to sleep.
Strongly she doth all inspire,
And; like a bee, doth never tire
On the wing to fly.

. Be silent, ladies: Iam quite undone.

. Phedra, what dire misfortune’s in the house ?

. Hush! let me hear the voice of those within.
I’m dumb; and yet this prelude bodes no good.
Oh woe, alas! alas!

Oh me, unhappy, owing to my woes !
Yy Q WAN

by

raha

HIPPOLYTUS. 117

What utterance dost thou make? what speech

Say, lady, what report, careering on, [express?
Affrighteth thee ?

. We are undone! stand by these gates and hear

What mighty din prevails within.

Thou’rt near the bars, and ’tis for thee a care
What information from within is brought.
Declare to me, declare what’s happened ill.

. The offspring of the martial Amazon,

Who’s fond of steeds—Hippolytus I mean—
Calls out and at my servant casts reproach.

I hear the din, but could not clearly say

Which wayit came. ’T'was through the gate the cry
To thee arrived.

. He calls her plainly match-maker of woes,

And one who hath betrayed her master’s bed.

. Oh! for the ills I hear! Thou art betrayed
._My friend. What shall I plan for thee? things hid,

Are come to sight, and thou art quite undone—

. Alas! alas!
. Betrayed by friends !
. She hath destroyed me and revealed my woes,

My ailment healing kindly, but not well.
How now ? What shalt thou do—thou visited
With sorrows irremediable?

. I know but one thing: ’tis to die with speed

The only antidote of present woes.

(Enter Hirrouytvs.)

. O mother Earth, and sun’s outspread expanse!

Of what expression have I heard the cry
Unutterable ?

. Be silent, child, ere one perceive the noise,
. I cannot, having heard such dreadful things.

I pray thee do not, by thy well-shaped hand.

. Do not lay hand on me, or touch my. robes.
118 HIPPOLYTUS.

I pray thee by thy knees, destroy me not.

But why, if as thou say’st, thou spak’st naught ill.
. My child, this is no tale to tell to all.

. Things right ’tis fair ‘mong many to reveal. ‘
O son! by no means disregard thine oaths.

My tongue hath sworn, my mind unsworn remains.
O child! what wilt thou do? wilt thou destroy
Thy friends ?

. Lhold them in contempt; no man unjust

To me is friend.

. Forgive them ; for ’tis like what you’d expect,
That men should err—my child.

my 2 RF AZhahRaha

O Zeus!
Why hast thou women brought to light of sun,
To men a guileful bane? for if to sow
The seed of human kind thou didst desire,
That this from women should have been secured,
Is no wise needful: but that men should place,
By way of recompense, before thy shrines,
Or gold, or silver, or a weight of brass,
And purchase thus the seed of children, each
At its own value’s worth ; but in their homes
I vote that men be free, with females none
To keep them company. But, now, so soon
As we begin to lead them to our homes,
That moment we drain dry our happiness.
By this ensuing argument ’tis plain,
How woman is a pest of no small kind;
The sire who hath begot or reared her up,
Proposes wedding gifts and sends her off,
That from the evil he may be relieved.
But he who, on the other hand, hath ta’en
The. baneful pest to his abode, is glad
When to the ornament of all the worst
He’th added trapping fair, and decks her out
With robes. Unhappy man! soon to destroy |
HIPPOLYTUS. 119

By small degrees, the comforts of his house.
On him I grant necessity is laid ;
So when he hath allied with marriage kin
Of fair repute, with joy he doth uphold
A hateful marriage. Or suppose the match
Prove fair, and yet indifferent friends-in-law
' Be joined to it, he doth repress the part
Which is unlucky with the part that’s good.
With him ’tis easiest, who a cipher hath
For wife, and one who useless sits at home,
Through her simplicity. But I abhor
A wife that’s wise: at least, may none more wise ~ |
Than woman ought to be, dwell in my house.
In clever women Cypris breeds the deed
Of bad intent; but she who cunning lacks,
Is by her want of wit deprived of harm.
’Tis right no servant should draw near one’s wife,
But that some speechless beast reside with them,
For thus they could not speak to anyone,
Or in return reply receive from them.
But now the wicked females in the house
Plan evil plots, and their attendants next
Bear them abroad, and thou, oh! wicked one,
Hast thus held intercourse on that with me
Which is most sacred—the paternal bed.
But I will wash myself with running streams
Up to the ears, dashing the water o’er.
How could I condescend to be corrupt,
When only having heard such things, I seem
To be impure? . . . Know well my piety
Protects thee, lady ; for, were I not bound
Quite unawares in oaths of gods, I must,
Without a doubt, have spoken out this thing
Unto my sire. But I will now absent
Myself from home as long as Theseus is
Abroad, and I will keep my mouth in silence.

oe
120 HIPPOLYTUS.

But with him I will come, and witness how
Thy queen and thou shall then regard his face.
But then thy daring mind I shall have known,
When I’ve had previous proof of it. May ye
To ruin come! Ne’er shall my woman-hate
Be gratified, e’en if ’t were said that I

For ever say the same. I'll always say

The same, for they are ever bad. Hither

Let some one teach them to be wise, or else
Let me for ever rail on them.

Cxorvs.
Full of sorrow and distress
Is the lot of womankind.
Thus defeated, what finesse
Or argument can we produce,
Which the knotty point shall loose
Of this harsh impeachment ?

PHmEpRA.
We’ve justice met, oh! Earth and Light,
Where shall I my fate evade P
How, my friends, shall I conceal
My misfortune? Say, what god
My assistant shall appear ?
Or what mortal shall be found
Of unholy deeds assessor,
Or helping their accomplishment ?
For my present suffering,
Out of life itself, doth bring

Hapless exit;—

Most unfortunate am I
Of all women ’neath the sky.

Alas! alas! Cuorvs.

*Tis finish’d, mistress, and thy servant’s art
‘Hath not succeeded, but proceedeth ill.
HIPPOLYTUS. 121

P. O woman, most abhorred, who dost corrupt
Fast friends, what hast thou donetome? May Zens,
With lightning smiting thee, destroy thee root
And branch. Did I not tell thee to be dumb
(For did I not suspect thy mind’s intent ?)
On all things which I reap discredit from ?
But thou could’st not hold out, and therefore I
No longer well-reputed end shall gain.

But, doubtless, I fresh counsel need, for he

In mind provoked, shall to his sire repeat
’Gainst me thy faults, and he will fill the land
With basest words. Oh, perish thou, and each
Who hastens foolishly to serve his friends,
Reluctant to accept the boon.

N. My mistress, ’tis for thee to blame the ill
I’ve done; for thy chagrin thy judgment warps.
But if thou’lt take it, I have this to say
In answer. I have brought thee up and feel
Kindly disposed to thee. . . While remedy
For thy complaint I sought, I failed to make
Discoveries which I wished. If I had been
Successful, then should I have surely ranked
Among the wise; for, as our fortune is,

Our name for wisdom hangs on it.

P. Say is it just, and all that’s due to me,

To wound me first, then meet me in dispute ?

N. In speech I’m prolix, nor was I discreet
In action: yet ’tis possible for thee
From this, my child, to be preserved.

P. Cease speaking; for thy former evil plans
Thou didst not recommend or take in hand
Successfully. Begone, and for thyself
Contrive, I’ll well arrange my own affairs.
And you, Troezenian women, gently bred
Grant me at my entreaty this one boon,

In silence keep what here you’ve overheard.
122 HIPPOLYTUS.

C. By Artemis revered, Jove’s child, I swear
That naught of thy misfortunes P’'ll reveal
To light of day.
P. Thou hast well said. While one thing I propose
I’ve found a remedy for this distress,
That on my family I may confer
A life of good repute, and be myself
A gainer in the present circumstance.
For I will never shame my Cretan home,
Or will I e’er the gaze of Theseus meet,
Disgraced by evil deeds, for one life’s sake.
What crime incurable wilt thou commit ?
To die; but how—on this I will debate.
Good words, lady !
. And do thou warn me well,
And I, departing out of life this day,
Shall Cypris please, who ruins me outright.
By bitter love I shall be overcome ;
But yet by dying I shall prove a curse
Unto another man, that he may scoff
No more at my misfortune; taking share
In this complaint, to cherish humble thoughts,
He yet shall learn.

NWQNWR

(Heeunt NuRsE and Puzpra.)

Crorus—Strorue (A).

Oh! would I were in some deep hiding-place,
And where some god the form of winged bird
Would grant me, that with them of common race

I might commingle in the feathered herd.

Would I were rapt to wave of Adria’s shore,
Or to the stream Hridanus removed,

Where Phaethon’s hapless daughters ever pour
Into the purple billows of the sea,

The umber-gleams of tears for sire beloved.
HIPPOLYTUS. 123

T’d hasten to the fruit-producing bay
Of the Hesperides, the tuneful three,

Where he who keeps the dark sea ‘neath his sway,
To mariners assigns no pathway free.

To heaven’s vast confines doth the god extend,
Which Atlas his broad shoulders holds above ;
And there ambrosial springs for ever send
Their streams abroad from palaces of Jove
Hard by their beds, that so the fruitful ground
Might to the happiness of gods redound.

_Srropue (B).

Oh! white-winged Cretan ferry-boat which carried
My mistress o’er the sea’s loud-sounding wave,
Far from her happy home ; a wife ill married,
For wedlock’s ill-starred chain a destined slave.

Ill-omened on both shores, at least on one—

The Cretan side—she flew, on wings expanded,
To far-famed Athens, and they fastened on

Their twisted strand at Munychus, and landed
Upon the earth, which limitless extended.

ANTISTROPHE (B).

Thus mastered by the strength of loves accursed,
To Cypris’ dire disease one victim more,

Her mind was shattered by the fire it nursed,
Unable to contain the inward spark it bore.

*Whelmed by calamities which nearer loom
And remedy defy, herself she’ll deck

With slip-knot, pendant from her bridal room,
Its noose adjusting to her snowy neck.

A hateful god she reverenced too well ;
A fair repute preferring in her pride,
And from her mind she sternly did expel
A fond attachment which she could not hide.
124 HIPPOLYTUS.

M..

(Enter Mussencer.)

parse . Here! here!

All nigh the house come to my ery for help.
For Theseus’ wife, our queen, doth hang
Amid the struggles of a strangling cord.
Alas! alas!

’Tis done: our queen, no more a woman, is
Suspended by the cord wherefrom she hangs.

. Will ye not hasten ? will not some one bring

A double-edgéd sword, whereby this noose

We may dissever from about her neck ?

My friends, what shall we do? doth it seem good
To pass indoors and disengage the queen

Out of the tight-drawn cords ?

. Why soP Are there not present serving-men

Of youthful age? ‘Tis not safe policy
In life to act the busybody’s part.

. Stretch out and straighten her unhappy corse ;

This to my master is a bitter watch
Over his house.

The hapless woman is undone, I hear;
Already as a corse they lay her out.

(Enter TuEsEvs.)

Ye women, know ye what the outcry is

Indoors? A heavy din of serving-men [deigns
Hath reached my ears. The house by no means
To accost me gladly, and throw wide its gates
As for the bringer of an oracle.

Hath aged Pittheus met with some mishap ?
Already is his age advanced, but yet,

Were he to quit this house, a source of grief
He’d be to me.

Not to the old, Theseus, this case belongs :

The young departing give thee pain of mind,
Alas! my children’s life is not cut off ?
eS HB:

HAHIPPOLYTUS. 125

They live: their mother ’s dead, most painfully
For thee.

What say’st thou? hath my wife to ruin come ?
By what mischance P

Herself she fastened to a strangling cord

Hung up on high.

With sorrow chilled, or was it brought to pass
Through some misfortune ?

So much we know: for recently we’re come,
Theseus, to thine abode, with sorrow filled

At thy calamities.

Alas!

Why is my head with twisted leaves entwined,
Being, as I am, a sad ambassador ?

Attendants, loose the fastenings of the gates,
Undo the bolts, that I may see the sight,

The bitter sight of wife, who by her death
Hath me undone.

Cuorvs.

Oh! for thy luckless woes, thou hapless one !
Thou hast suffered, thou hast done,

What this house could overturn.

With what daring didst thou burn !

By constrained, unholy fate,

Thou hast wrought thy death of late.

Thine own hand the deed enacted,

From thyself thou hast exacted

Dire revenge. The strangling cord,

Ease from pain did thee afford.

Who, unhappy, clouds thy path,

With shadows darkling with impending wrath ?

THESEUS.

Woe ’s me for my misfortunes! I have borne,
Unhappy man, the direst ills !—What load,
O Fate! thou’st laid on me and on my house!
126 HIPPOLYTUS.

Tt is a blot unknown, from some harsh god.

A fate is mine which makes me wish to die.

T can discern, O hapless man! a sea

So great of woes, that I shall ne’er again

Swim out therefrom, nor e’er the wave surmount

Of this mischance. Unhappy man, what speech
Addressing, or hard lot of thine, can I

Hit on the truth of this? For like a bird

Thou’st vanished from my hand with sudden leap, ~
Rushing to Hades. Oh! alas! how dark,

How dark these sufferings are! and from some source
Remote, through some ancestral crime, I bring

A lot untoward out,

Corus.

These evils have not come to thee alone.
With many others hast thou lost, O king,
A wife beloved.

THESEDS.

In darkness dying, fraught with woe,
I long to migrate to the shades below.
Deprived of thy loved company,

I would wish extinct to be.

Thou hast perished more than pined !
Where can I the reason find

Why o’er thy heart this deadly fate
Now hath come, my lost helpmate ?
Shall I ever ascertain

What is done, or all in vain

Doth my princely palace hold

A crowd of serving-men untold ?
Through thee a hapless man am I!
What a dire calamity

In my house I’ve seen appear,

Too unfortunate to bear,

Or to rehearse in human ear.
HIPPOLYTUS. 127

I am ruined, and my home

To grim desolation’s come,

And my children now shall be
Friendless orphans without thee.

_ CHorvs.
Thou art gone, thou art gone, oh! woman beloved,
The best whom the sunlight or the star-like moon
Ever look on. How great a catastrophe
The household encounters. With tear-drops my eye
Is bedewed at thy sad calamity.
But yet my sad heart doth in deeper alarm,
With horror survey some forthcoming harm.

T. Oh! oh!
What new misfortune doth this tablet, hung
From her dear hand, intend to signify ?
And hath the hapless one epistles writ,
About my future bed petitioning
And future offspring? Oh! ill-fated wife,
Take heart; no marriage bed nor yet a home
Hath Theseus, which shall other wife receive. :
And yet the marks of this gold-mounted seal
Of her who’s gone, do smile on me. Come, loose
The sealéd string, and let me ascertain
What would the tablet say.

C. Alas! alas!
This evil new the deity inflicts
In due succession. Now shall lot of life
Be mine in prospect of what’s come to pass
Not to be lived—our prince’s home, I mean,
Destroyed and now no more. O deity,
Tf one there is, the house forbear to crush,
And hearken to my prayer; for I perceive
Tn one direction omen ill, like one

Who can divine.
128 HIPPOLYTUS.

T. Woe’s me!

|

How one misfortune on the other comes,
Not to be borne nor spoken of! Oh me,
Unhappy man!

What thing ? speak out, if I have any right
To share in this discourse.

The tablet doth announce things terrible.

In what way must I fly the load of woe ?
I’m gone and quite undone, just as I’ve seen,
Unhappy man, a story breathing words
Portrayed in pictures.

Alas !

Thou settest forth a speech, of woes

The harbinger.

No more within the portals of my mouth
Shall I conceal, unhappy man, this ill,

Hard to escape and of a deadly kind.
Hippolytus hath dared to invade by force
My marriage-bed, the sacred eye of Zeus
Dishonouring ; but oh! Poseidon, sire,

The curses three which once thou promised’st—

- With one of these dispatch my son: this day

C.

Let him not flee, if imprecations clear,

As I believe, thou hast vouchsafed to me.

O king! entreat the gods again this prayer

May not take place. In future thou shalt
know

That thou hast erred. By me be overruled.

Tt cannot be. Him I’ll moreover drive

From out this land, and with one lot of two

He shall be struck. Hither deprived of life

Poseidon shall to Hades carry him,

My curses honouring, or else expelled

This land, a wanderer on foreign shore,

He shall drag out a miserable life.

Lo! in the nick of time, thy son himself,
HIPPOLYTUS. 129

Hippolytus, is come. From evil wrath
Relaxing, Theseus king, wise counsel take
For thy own house.

(Enter Hirrorytvs.)

. The clamour hearing, father, I am come
In haste. The circumstance thou dost deplore
I know not, but from thee I wish to hear.
Oh, what mischance is this? Thy wife, father,
I see a corse, a fact most wonderful !
She whom I lately left, who not long since
Beheld this light! What hath occurred to her ?
In what way perished she? Father, from thee
I wish to hear: and art thou silent still P
There is no time for silence in distress.
Man’s eager heart, e’en in misfortune’s day,
Is found intent all things to hear. Father !
It is by no means right to hide from friends,
And more than friends, your present unsuccess.
. Omen! mistaken frequently in vain,
Why do ye teach a thousand arts, and plan
All things and find them out? But yet one thing
Ye know not yet, nor have ye sought for it—
To teach them to be wise in whom no mind
Ts found.
. A clever rhetorician thou must mean,
Who can compel the stupid to be wise.
But thou dost quibble at unfitting time ;
And, father, I’m afraid lest through thy woes
Thy tongue doth overshoot the mark.
Alas! there needs to be imprest on men
Some sign distinct of friends, and in their mind
Some insight who is true and who no friend ;
And that all men should voices have twofold,
One just and one as it might chance to be.
So that the man intending bad designs,
K
"130 HIPPOLYTUWS.

Should from the upright be distinctly proved,
And we no longer should be taken in.
H. Hath any friend maligned me to thine ear,
And am I in disgrace though not to blame ?
I am amazed at thee, and thy wild words,
From reason’s course departing, me perplex.
T, Alas! the mind of man, where will it go ?P
Of daring and presumption, what restraint
Shall there be left ? for should it gather force
With every race of man, and each that’s last,
- Exceed in wickedness the one before,
It will be needful for the gods to add
Another earth to this existing globe,
Which men unjust by nature and the bad
Shall in itself receive. . . . Look on this man
Who, from myself begot, hath stained my bed,
And by the dead is proved to be most vile.
Since to this blot thou’rt come, here show thy face
Full opposite to mine. Art thou with gods
In league, as being a man unique in worth ?
And art thou wise and pure from taint of ill P
. . But for myself, by thy high-sounding words
I'm not convinced. On gods thy ignorance
Thou hast imposed, so as to weave thy plots.
And now boast on, and by the use of food
Inanimate, with diet drive a trade,
And Orpheus take for king and revel it,
Esteeming much the smoke of learning deep,
Since thou at least art caught. Such characters
All men I warn to flee. With lofty words
They seek for prey, devising what is base. . . .
She here is dead . . and dost thou think that this
Will save thee ? . . Thou’rt entrapped the most in
this,
Thou worst of men! What arguments, what oaths
Ave better than this document, that thou
HIPPOLYTUS. 131

Shouldst guilt escape? Thou wilt perhaps declare
She hated thee, and that a base-born son
Is odious to the race in wedlock born.
Her thou dost count an unskilled trafficker
In life: if, owing to her hate for thee,
She that destroyed which dearest was to her;
Or wilt thou say that though stupidity
Is not innate in men, it is in women ?P [safe
Still, youths I’ve known who’re not a whit more
Than womankind, when Cypris hath disturbed
Their youthful mind; but when full manhood’s
Belongs to them, it doth them benefit. [prime
But why do I thus strive with words of thine,
With clearest witness in this lifeless corpse P
Out of this land begone, a fugitive,
With all speed possible, and ne’er approach
The god-built Athens nor the boundaries
Of this my country governed by my spear.
For having borne these wrongs, if I’m subdued
By thee, the Isthmian robber ne’er will say
That him I slew, nor shall Scironian rocks,
Which skirt the sea, proclaim that to the bad
I am severe.

Cuorvs.
That any mortal man is fortunate,
T know not how I could declare. Again
The rudiments of justice are upturned.

HIppPo.ytvs.

Father, thy rage and sternness of thy mind

Are terrible; but yet this circumstance,

Admitting reasons fair, is far from just

If one unravelled it. Iam but rude

In speech before a crowd. Iam more skilled

Before my equals and the few select :

But e’en this circumstance with lot divine
K2
132 HIPPOLYTUS.

Is linked. . . For those who with the wise do rank
As fools, before the mob more apt to speak

Are they. Yet needs that I should loose my tongue,
Misfortune having come to me. Where thou
Didst first assail me as about full soon

To crush me and permit me not a word

To say in my defence, I will begin

To speak to thee. Dost thou behold the light
And earth P in these lives not a man alive

Than I more chaste, e’en though thou this gainsay.
For first I know full well the homage due

To gods, and how such men to have for friends
Who wrongful dealing ne’er attempt, but those
Whose modesty forbids them to denounce

What’s bad in other men, or to pay back

What’s base in them who do themselves pursue
Such evil practices. . . No scorner I,

Father, of them who my associates are ;

But I am one to friends who absent are

And those who’re nigh. . By one thing I’m untouched,
Of which thou thinkest to convict me now.

Up to this day my body from this bed

Is free from contact: naught of this concern

I know, save that I hear it in discourse,

And see it penned in writing. Things like this
Tam not prone to pry into. My mind

I’d rather keep in virgin purity.

Perhaps the self-control I claim, from thee

No credence gains; but yet it rests with thee

To prove the mode in which I am debased.

Say, did the person of thy wife excel

In beauty all her sex ? or did I hope

That I attaining marriage which should bring

An heir's estate to me, thy house should take

For my abode? . . Then simple must I be

And of but small sagacity ; but thus
HIPPOLYTUS. 133°

It doth delight the moderate to rule ?

. . By no means so, unless it comes to pass
That monarchy deranges those whose mind

It doth delight. But for myself I’d wish,
First to excel in Grecian games, and next

To keep in favour with the men in power,
Always as friends. For thus ’tis possible

To carry out one’s wish, and danger absent
Doth lend more true delight than royal sway.
One argument of mine is yet unsaid,

The rest thou dost possess: if I secured

Such witness as myself, and did contend

With her alive, by searching thou should’st know
That by their deeds they are corrupt. And now
By Zeus, the god of oaths, and by this ground,
I swear that I have never stained thy couch,
Nor ever wished, nor thought of it conceived.
For might I perish unrenowned, unknown,
Roaming the earth, and may no sea nor land
My flesh receive when dead, if I am bad

By nature. Whether she in fright destroyed
Her life, I’m ignorant. Further to speak

’Tis not allowed for me. For she who once
Could not act virtuously, is now become
Sedate, and I to little benefit,

Though having it, have used the gift.

Cuorvs.
A satisfying warding off of blame
Thou hast declared, producing oaths of gods,
No confirmation small.
THESEUS.
Ts not this man a sorcerer and cheat,
Who’s confident that he can overrule
My mind with gentle speech, when he his sire
Hath thus disgraced ?
134 HAIPPOLYTUS.

Hi. Father, in this I am amazed at thee,
For if thou wert my child and I thy sire,
I would have slain and not have banished thee
If thou hadst dared to violate my wife.

T. This thou hast said as it befits; not thus
Shalt thou be slain, as for thyself the law
Thou hast proposed ; a speedy death to one
Who is unfortunate, the lightest is ;

But thou forth roaming as a banished man
From this thy native land, a bitter life
Shalt drag along on some outlandish shore.
This for an impious man’s the penalty.

H, Alas! what wilt thou do, and shall not time,
Which all things brings to light, by thee be ta’en
As witness against me? But wilt thou drive me
From this land ?

T. Yes, and beyond the sea, and if I could
Beyond Atlantic bounds: to such extent
I thee detest.

H. Before thou hast examined an oath, or proof,
Or auguries of seers, wilt thou expel me
From this land unjudged ?

T. This tablet, though it hath received no lot,
Convicts thee faithfully. As to the birds
That o’er our heads prevail, I bid them all
A long farewell.

H. Ye gods, why do I not release my mouth,

Since I’m destroyed by you whom I adore ?—
Not I forsooth—them I should not persuade
Whom it behoves I should: and all in vain

I should disperse to the winds the oaths I swore.

T. Alas! how killing is thy solemn cant !

Wilt thou not quit thy father’s land with speed
Such as is possible ?
H. Where hapless shall I go? Of what ally
“
HIPPOLYTUS: 135.

Shall I the house invade, with the reproach

Attending my exile ?

. Whoever likes to take a ravisher

Of female virtue for his friend, and one

Who partner is in guilt.

1. Oh me! this strikes into my heart and comes

Almost to tears, if I thus seem to thee

To be an evil man. [ thyself,

. Then shouldest thou have groaned and known

Before thou dared’st insult thy father’s wife.

. Ye mansions, would that ye could utter speech

In my behalf, and witness bear if I

Am naturally bad.

. Thou dost resort to voiceless witnesses :

This deed, no language uttering, declares

That thou art bad.

. Would it were possible myself to see

Standing before my face: how I have shed,

At all the wrongs I bear, a flood of tears.

. More careful hast thou been thyself to guard,

Than by thy parents to perform good part,

Though thou art just.

~ O luckless mother! O unhappy seed !

May none of my acquaintance be a son

Base born !

. Will ye not drag him hence, ye serving-men ?
Have ye not heard me say long time ago
That this man is expatriated hence ?

. To his sore cost shall one of them lay hands
On me; but thou thyself, if ’tis thy will,
Expel me from the land.

| This I will do if thou wilt not obey

My words ; for no compassion comes o’er me

At thy exile.

. It is resolved it seems, oh! hapless me !

I know that this is so, but have no words
136 HIPPOLYTUS.

To speak my thoughts. Oh! most beloved of gods,
Latona’s child, my partner and companion

In the chase; from Athens the renowned we'll go
To banishment. I bid farewell to thee,
Erechtheus’ city and his land! and thou
Troezenian plain, with many charms to pass

A happy time of youth, to thee farewell !

With last look bent on thee I thee address.—
But come, my young compeers of equal age,
Selected from this land, bid me adieu,
.And from your shore convoy; for you shall ne’er
Behold a chaster man, e’en though my sire’s : | |
Opinion different be. (Heit Hirrotytts.)

Cuorus—SrropuHe (A).
When musings deep invade my mind
On the gods, removed I find
My grief: and if therein I’ve gained
In hope some insight, yet I’m pained ;
For I’m ’wildered in a maze,
Looking on men’s works and ways,
How in different quarters, ever
Changing, they succeed each other.
And man’s ever-wandering life,
From time to time is shifted im a ceaseless strife.

ANTISTROPHE.

Oh! would that fate would this supply,
For which to gods I raise my cry,
Wealth to have with happiness,

And a life free from distress ;

Not a name that’s strictly high,

Nor yet stained with infamy.

And let my easy habits borrow
Changed complexion with each morrow.
Thus may I my life enjoy,
HIPPOLYTUS. 137

Free from sorrow and alloy.
For my mind ’s no longer clear,
On all around I gaze with trembling doubt and fear.

’ Srropue (B).
For we’ve seen the brightest star,
Sent to other land afar.
The brightest Hellene Athens hath,
Banished by his father’s wrath.
Oh! the sand along the shore,
Bordering nigh upon the town,
And the mountain copse which bore
Oaks upon its sides adown,
Where with dogs of nimble foot,
Beasts he put to deadly rout,
In Dictynna’s company,

Dictynna, goddess of a solemn sanctity.

AnTISTROPHE (B).
No longer wilt thou mount the car and steer
The colts Henetian as a charioteer,
Curbing with thy foot the course,
Round Limna, of the well-trained horse.
Within thy father’s halls, the sleepless song
Tts notes ‘neath yoke of lyre shall not prolong.
Latona’s daughter’s haunts shall be uncrowned
, With garlands, where deep grass o’erspreads the
‘For thy bridal bed the strife, [ ground.
’Mong the maids so lately rife,
By thy banishment decreed,
Is from competition freed.

Epope.
Long shall I with tears sustain
Fortune fortuneless ; in vain,
Hapless mother, hast thou been
Parent profitless I ween.
138 HIPPOLYTUS.

Oh I’m angry with the gods above !
From his land, ye banded yokes of love,
Will ye cast this hapless man,

Now to meet stern exile’s ban ?

Guilty of no crime, shall he

From these mansions driven be ?

Behold ! a servant of Hippolytus,
With haste approaching to the house, his face
With gloom o’ercast.

(Enter MussEncEr.)

M. Where could I go and find Theseus the king ?
Pray ladies tell me if you know: is he
Within these mansions P

C. This is himself now coming from the house.

(Enter THESEUS.)

M. An anxious story, Theseus, do I bring
To thee and to the citizens who dwell
In Athens and the bounds of land Treezenian.

T. What is’t?.. hath some misfortune new o’ertook
Both these adjoining states P

M. To speak the truth, Hippolytus now lives
No more; but yet a little while he sees
The light.

T. Through whom is he no more? Hath any one
Whose wife he hath defiled by force, as his
Own father’s wife, encountered him in hate P

M. ’Twas his own chariot killed him, and the oaths
Of thy own mouth, which thou didst imprecate
Against thy son, addressing him who rules
The sea, thy sire.

T. Oh! gods! and thou Poseidon! how in truth
Thou art my father, in that thou hast heard
My imprecations, Tell me how he died,
DM.

|

HIPPOLYTUS. 139

And how did Justice’ cudgel strike the man
Who hath dishonoured me.

We weeping nigh the wave-receiving shore,
Were drawing out with combs our horses’ manes,
For there arrived a messenger who said

That in this land Hippolytus no more

Might dwell, by thee to hapless exile sent.

And he himself came to us on the shore

In tears, bearing the same unhappy tale.

And close behind a countless throng of youths
Of equal age, did track his steps. Ere long
Surceasing from his groans, he said, ‘Why rave
I here ? My father’s words must be obeyed.

My yoked steeds harness, servants, to the car.
This city now no more is mine.’ Thereon

Each man made haste and, quicklier than ’tis said,
We placed the horses by the master’s side
Caparisoned. He seizes with his hands

The reins from off the rails and plants his foot
Therein, with boots and all; and first to gods
He spake with outspread hands. ‘Thou, Zeus, no
May I exist if Iam base: my sire, [more
May he perceive how he dishonours me,
Whether I die or see the light of life.’

With that he took into his hands the goad,

And with it urged his horses, both at once.

And we attendants, close beneath the car

And near the reins, our master followed up,
Proceeding on the road which leads direct

To Argos and to Hpidauria.

But when we struck into the desert tract,

There is a certain coast which lies beyond

This land, and facing the Saronic Sea.

From thence a voice sepulchral issued forth,

A heavy rumbling noise, horrid to hear,

And like the thunder-clap of Jove himself.
140 HIPPOLYTUS.

Thereat the horses raised the head and ear

To heaven, With us there was a childish fear,
Whence possibly the sound could come. We gazed
With rapt attention on the sea-beat shore,

And saw a mighty wave uprising high

To heaven: so much so that my eye was let

From seeing Sceron’s shore—it kept from view
The Isthmus and Asclepius’ stone—it swelled,
Dashing much foam about with sea-blown spray,
And comes toward the beach where stood the car
Drawn by four steeds. Together with the swell
And billows huge, the sea sent forth a bull—

A savage monster; with his bellowing filled,

The. land throughout resounded dreadfully.

And as we look, a sight appeared which eye

Could not regard. Forthwith a dreadful fear
Came o’er the horses, and my master, skilled
From long acquaintance with the ways of steeds,
Snatched with his hands the reins, and with the thongs
(Just as a sailor draws his oar) he draws

The chariot, backward, hanging with the weight
Of all his frame. They, champing with their jaws
The fire-forged bits, rush off with him by force,
Regarding not the chariot-driver’s hand,

Nor yet the reins, nor yet the well-made car.

And if he steered their course to where the ground
Is soft, the bull appeared in front and turned them,
Maddening with fear the four steeds in the car.

If in their frantic mood, they headlong rushed
Upon the rocks, he followed silently,

Advancing forward to the chariot-rails.

So that at length he overturned the car

And threw it back, striking against the rock

The felloe of the wheel. ’Twas all confusion.

The naves of all the wheels then started off,

And lineh-pins of the axles. . . He himself,
HIPPOLYTUS. 141

Unhappy man, entangled in the reins

Is dragged along, bound with a bond that’s hard
To be set loose. Upon the rocks his head

Was dashed, mangled his flesh, and calling out
Words terrible to hear. ‘Stay ye, once fed

‘Tn my own stalls, do not destroy me quite :
‘Qh! wretched imprecation of my sire! . .
‘Who, being at hand, will save the best of men ?’
Many in willing mind, with foot too late,

Were left behind; and he, loosed from-his bond,
Falls from the broken reins, I know not how,
Yet breathing out some little life. The steeds
Were lost to sight, and, too, the monstrous bull
Vanished in mountain flats, I know not where.
And I, a servant of the house, O king,

Can never so far be convinced of thee

As to believe thy son an evil man,

Not even if the whole of womankind

Were hung, and if one filled with letters all
The pine-forest of Ida; for I’m sure

He was a noble man.

CHorvs.

Alas! the crisis of disasters new
Is come to pass; from fate and destiny
Is no release.

. By reason of my hatred for the man

Who hath this lot encountered, with thy words
I’m gratified; but now, respecting gods,

And from regard to him, because he’s mine,

At these disasters I’m not pleased nor grieved.

. How then :—shall we bring here thy hapless son ?
Or what part taking shall we please thy mind ?
Bethink thee, if from me thou’lt counsel take,
142 HIPPOLYTUS.

Thow’lt not be angry with thy luckless son.
T, Convey him here, that, seeing with my eyes

The man who said he’d not defiled my bed,

I may refute him with my arguments,

And with calamities sent from the gods.

Corts.
Cyprian queen, thou dost subdue
The stubborn mind of gods and men ;
The winged one of varied hue,
Clothing him with swiftest pinion,
Is with thee a fast companion.
He flies o’er earth and loud salt ocean.
And maddened every heart hath been,
Which once has felt the invading motion
Of love with wings of golden sheen.
The mood of whelps of mountain breed,
And all the tenants of the deep,
The animals which Earth doth feed,
(That cherished by his beams the sun
Views in his journeys daily run)
Bowed ‘neath his sceptre love doth keep.
Unite to these the race of man.
Cyprian queen, none other can
Sovereign honour duly gain,
From all these on earth and in the main.

(ARTEMIS enters.)

ARTEMIS.
Son of Aigeus, nobly born,
I command thee to give ear.
Theseus, I, Latona’s child,
Artemis, address thee here.
Why, wretched man, dost thou delight
In this hateful deed of night ?
Wickedly thou hast procured
Death to thine own offspring, Jured
HIPPOLYTUS. 143

By thy wife’s untruthful fable,

On matters not discernible.

Guilt manifest hath thee o’ercome;
Why in shame dost thou not doom
Thy body to the shades below,
Beneath the sunshine’s earthly glow ?
Changed in form to wingéd bird,

Or to other life above transferred,
Would’st thou not from present pain
Thy enduring foot refrain ?

Not as among good men possest

Is thy earthly portion blest.

Now, Theseus, hear the statement of thy ills.
E’en though I shall no profit gain thereby,

Yet I will thee torment: for this ’m come,

To show thy son’s just mind and how he dies
In fair repute, and, too, thy wife’s strong love,
Or rather nobleness: for she, being struck

By goads of goddess hatefullest to all

Who feel a virgin’s bliss, thy son admired.

And in her mind attempting to o’ercome

The Cyprian queen, unwillingly she fell

A victim to her nurse’s arts, who shows

Her mistress’ ailment to thy son, constrained
By oaths: and he, as ’twas but right, her words
Did not pursue, nor e’en, though wronged by thee,
Did he deny the pledge of oaths, like one

Of pious disposition. She, afraid iM oped

Lest she might come to shame, false letters wrote,
And with her snares destroyed thy son, and yet
Persuaded thee.

T. Alas!
A,

My speech doth bite thee, Theseus ; but be still,
That having heard the sequel thou may’st groan
The more. Thou art aware, O vilest man,
That from thy sire three imprecations clear
144 AIPPOLYTUS.

Thou didst receive, of which thou’st drawn aside
One ’gainst thy son, when it was in thy power
To do so ’gainst some enemy. . . Thy sire,
The Ocean King, wisely determining,
Granted to thee what he was bound to do,
Because he had a promise made. But thou,
In his esteem and mine, an evil man
Art thought, who didst not wait for proofs nor
Of seers, nor didst enquiry make, nor yet [words
After the lapse of lengthened time, take thought
Concerning it, but speedier than ’twas right,
Thon hast discharged thy curses on thy son
And hast destroyed him.
T. Oh! mistress, let me die!
A. Thou’st acted dreadfully ; but yet for thee
"Tis possible to be condoned for this,
Since Cypris wished that this should be, her wrath
To satiate. . . With the gods the rule is this,
No one desires to thwart the zeal of him
Who hath an aim, but always we stand off.
For be assured—had I not fearéd Zeus,
I never to this pitch of shame had come,
As to permit the man by me most loved
Of humankind, to die. But thy offence
Thy ignorance doth first deprive of guilt,
And next, thy wife by dying, put an end
To proofs of words and thus persuaded thee.
And now these ills have chiefly broken out
On thy own head and grief on me. For gods
Take no delight to see the pious die.
But bad men we destroy, their families,
Their houses, and their all.

Cuorvs.
‘Lo! here draws nigh the hapless man. .
His young flesh mangled and his auburn head !
Oh! misery of the house! What double woe,
HIPPOLYTUS, 145

Descending from the gods above on men,
Within the mansions is accomplished !

Hirrotyrvs.
Alas! alas!

By my sire’s unjust decree,
*Tis my lot thus maimed to be.
Oh! hapless, I am quite undone!
Through my head sharp pains rush on,
And in my brain the spasms keep
Circling dance with many a leap.
Hold! I'll rest my fainting frame.
Ho! ho! :
Oh! that hateful chariot team,
Ever by mine own hand fed,
Ye’ve undone and laid me dead.
Servants, by the gods beware !
Wounded, handle me with care.
Who on my right beside me stand ?
Duly raise me, and with steady hand
Draw me, curséd man and luckless,
Through my father’s wickedness.
Zeus! O Zeus! this dost thou see ?
I the chaste and pious devotee,
Who all excelled in modesty,
I have lost my life and go
To Hades manifest the earth below.
In goodwill to men in vain
I have laboured. Now the pain,
Oh! the pain comes over me.
Hapless mortal, let me be.
And may death, the healing chief,
Quickly come to my relief.
Destroy me, oh! destroy me quite,
Hapless and ill-fated wight.
Would I had a two-edged spear,

L
146 HIPPOLYTUS.

That I might my flesh dissever,

And lay my life to rest for ever.

Alas! my hapless father’s curse !

Now my blood-stained kinsmen’s crime,

And that of ancestors of ancient time,
Bursts on me, nor doth delay

Like a torrent, on its way.

It hath come; but why, I pray,

‘Why doth it descend on me,

From guilt of present evils free ?

Woe is me, what shall I utter ?

How shall I my life unfetter

From this harsh calamity ?

Would that the fate of Hades, dark as night,
Might lay me in death’s sleep, a Iuckless wight !

Oh! hapless man, in what calamity
Thou art enthralled. Thy soul’s nobility
Hath thee undone.

. Oh! breath divine of perfume; in my woe

I have perceived thee, and have been refresked
Within my frame. The goddess, Artemis,
Is in this place.

A. O hapless one! she is. By thee most loved

pe Ay

mh BR

Of all the gods.

. O mistress! seest thou my evil case ?
. I see it; but to shed from out my eyes

A tear to me is not allowed.

Thy hunter and thy minister’s no more.
No more; but yet a man beloved of me
Thou art undone.

. And he who undertook the oversight

Of all thy horses and the guardian was
Of images of thee.

. It was the wicked Cypris who contrived

This plot.
ty

ha

ase BREE

GAR

mS

HIPPOLYTUS,. 147

. Alas! and her I judge to be the power

Who hath destroyed me.

. She blamed thee for neglect of honour due

To her, and hated thee as being a man
Of chastity.

. Lsee that she being one has slain us three.
. Thy father and thyself, and wife the third.
. I, therefore, also mourn my sire’s ill-fate.

He was deceived by the contrivances
Of that false deity. .

Oh! my unhappy sire, for this sad lot!
My son, I am undone and life I loathe.

. O’er thee, for thy misdeeds, more than myself

I mourn.

Would I could die, my son, instead of thee!

Oh! for thy sire Poseidon’s bitter gifts.

Would they bad never come within my life.
Why so.? thou would’st have killed me in thy rage,
As then thou wert.

By deities I was in mind deceived.

Ah! that we men could cast on gods a curse!

A. Let be: when ‘neath the darkness of the earth, |

The rage of Cypris, rising from her zeal,
Shall.on thy body ne’er fall unavenged,

By reason of thy piety and mind

Of noble aim. With this mine own right hand
I will avenge me on another man,

.Who is to her the most beloved of men, i

With these unerring darts. To thee I'll grant,
Oh! hapless; in return for present ills,

The greatest honours in Treezene’s town.

For maids unmarried shall, before they wed.
Shear off their locks for many an age to thee,
Enjoying the deepest sorrow of their tears.
And there shall ever be among the maids

A verse producing memory of thee..

,

2 ES
148 HIPPOLYTUS.

5

AAm Ss RR ReS

Nor shall the love which Phedra bore for thee
Pass into nameless silence ; and do thou,

O son of aged Augeus, take thy son

Into thy arms and clasp him close to thee.

For him thou hast destroyed against thy will.
But when the gods dispose events, that men
Should err is natural, and thee I bid,
Hippolytus, no more to hate thy sire.

Thou know’st the destiny by which thon art
Destroyed, and now farewell! To see the dead
To me ’tis not allowed, nor yet to stain

My eye divine with gasps of dying men:

And nigh this ill I now perceive thon’rt come.
Go thou too, and farewell, blest maid! With ease
Thon dost resign a long companionship.

At thy request all hate I put away

Against my sire. Before, in former times,
For ever was I wont thy words to do.

Alas! there comes now o’er my eyes a mist.
Father, take hold of me and raise erect

My frame.

Alas! my son, what dost thou do to me

A hapless man ?

. Tam undone and now can see the gates

Of hell indeed.
And wilt thou leave my soul defiled with sin ?

. By no means, for I free thee from this crime.

What sayest thou ? and dost thou set me free
From taint of blood ?

. I call to witness Artemis, who slays

With arrow and with bow.
Oh! most beloved, how noble thou dost seem
Unto thy sire ?

. And, father, now farewell, a long farewell.

Alas! for thy devout and pious mind! [me.

. Pray thou may’st have more true-born sous like
P:

HIPPOLYTUS. 149

Do not now leave me, son, but yet be strong.

H. My time of strength is past. Father, I die:

T.

And now with speed conceal my face with robes.
O, famous realms of Athens and of Pallas,

Of what a mighty man shall ye be reft!

O wretched man! how long, thou Cyprian queen,
Shall I recall thy wrongful deeds P

Cuorvs.
This wide-felt calamity
On our townsmen suddenly
Hath arrived. Full many a tear,
Shall on their cheeks to-day appear.
Mournful stories of the great
Do not soon their interest "bate,
But repeat their gloomy chimes
In increased volume to more distant times,

THE END.

LONDON: PRINTED DY
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AND PARLIAMENT STREET
Works on Greek Classical Literature,
and Editions of Greek Classical Authors.

 

 

The STOICS, EPICUREANS, and SCEPTICS. Trans-
lated from the German of Dr. E. ZELLER, Professor in the University of
Heidelberg, with the Author’s approval, by the Rev. OswaLv J. REICHEL,
B.C.L, and M.A. Vice-Principal of Cuddesden College. Crown 8vo. 14s,

SOCRATES and the SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. Translated
from the German of Dr. E. ZELLER, with the Author’s approval, by the Rev.
OswaLp J. REICHEL, B.C.L, and M.A. Vice-Principal of Cuddesden College.

Crown 8vo. 8s. 6d. /

The ETHICS of ARISTOTLE, illustrated with Essays and

Notes. By Sir ALEXANDER GRANT, Bart. M.A. LL.D. Principal of the
Edinburgh University. Second Edition. 2 vols. 8vo. 28s.

The NICOMACHEAN ETHICS of ARISTOTLE. Newly
translated into English. By RoBERr WILLIAMS, B.A. Fellow and late Lecturer
of Merton College. and sometime Student of Christ Church, Oxford. 8vo. 12s.

APISTOTEAOYS TA MIOAITIKA, the POLITICS of
ARISTOTLE; with English Notes. By RicHARD CONGREVE, M.A. 8vo.16s.

The OLYNTHIACS of DEMOSTHENES, from the Text

of Bekker ; with Introduction, Historical and Critical Prefaces, and English
Notes. By Henry Musa@ravE WILKINS, M.A. Fellow of Merton College,
Oxford. Crown 8vo, 4s. 6d.

TINAAPOY TA SQZOMENA, PINDAR’S Epinician or
‘Triumphal Odes, in Four Books; together with the Fragments of his last
Compositions. Revised and explained by J. W. DonaLpson, M.A. 8vo. 16s.

The ALCESTIS, HECUBA, MEDEA, ORESTES, and

PHGWNISS4 of Euripides; Greek Text, with English Notes, Examination
Questions, and a Synopsis of Metres. By J. R. Magor, D.D. Post 8vo. 246,

*,* The Five PLays of EURIPIDES may be had separately, price 5s. each.

SOPHOCLIS TRAGEDLZ superstites recensuit et brevi
Annotatione instruxit GULIELMUS LInwooD, M.A, Addis Christi apud Oxoni-
enses nuper Alumnus. Editio Tertia, 8vo. 16s,
Greek Classical Authors.

EIGHT COMEDIES of ARISTOPHANES, viz. The
Acharnians, The Knights, The Clouds, The Wasps, Peace, The Birds, The
Frogs, and Plutus, translated into Rhymed Metres by LEONARD-HAMPSON
Rupp, M.A, 8vo. lds.

 

BRASSE’S Edition of SOPHOCLES, from the Text of
Brunck and others, with English Notes, Examination Questions, &c, Mdipus
Rex, Edipus Coloneus and Antigone, edited by Dr. BRASSE, post 8vo. price 5s.
each ; Philoctetes, edited by G. BuRGES, M.A. 58, ; Ajax and Electra, edited by
the Rev. F. VALPY, price 5s. each.

XENOPHON’S ANABASIS. Books I. and II. Edited,
with English Notes for Schools and Students, by D. B. Hicx1e, LL.D. late
Master of Hawkshead School. Fep. 3s. 6d.

XENOPHON’S ANABASIS. Books I.—III. Elucidated
by Notes, Critical and Explanatory, a Lexicon of all the Words in the Text,
and a Series of Easy Reading Lessons for Beginners. Designed as a First
Greek Reading-Book in Schools. By A. K. Ispister, M.A. Lu.B. 12mo.
price 3s. 6d.

XENOPHON’S EXPEDITION of CYRUS into UPPER
ASIA; principally from the Text of SCHNEIDER: with English Notes. By
Joun T. Wuits, D.D. of C. C. C. Oxford. Sixth Edition. 12mo. 7s, 6d.

NOTES upon THUCYDIDES, Original and Compiled. By
Joun G. SHEPPARD. M.A. and Lewis Evans, M.A. formerly Fellows of
Wadham College, Oxford. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 10s, 6d.

XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA of SOCRATES .,rom
the Text of Kiihner, With English Notes, Life, Chronology, Examination
Questions, and Indexes, By D. B. Hicxmm, LL.D, Sixth Edition. Post 8vo.
price 8s. 6d.

SCRIPTORES ATTICI, for the use of Harrow and other
Public Schools ; a Collection of Excerpts, progressively arranged, from Xeno-
phon, Thucydides, Plato, Aristotle, and Lucian, with English Notes, adapted for
the use of the Middle Forms, By HENRY MusGRAVE WILKINS, M.A. Crown
8v0. 7s. 6d.

REGES et HEROES: Kings and Heroes of Greece and
the Hast; a Selection of Tales from Herodotus, Greek Text, with English
Notes for the use of Schools. By E. St. Jonn Parry, M.A, Head Master of
Leamington College. Revised Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s, 6d.

 

London: LONGMANS and CO, Paternoster Row.
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