Book ' D-g THE TRAGEDIES OF SOPHOCLES, TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE. BY THE REV. THOMAS DALE, B.A. OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: J. M. RICHARDSON, CORNHILL. 1824. A A ttp> TO THE REV. ARTHUR WILLIAM TROLLOPE, DD. HEAD MASTER OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL, &f)te Cranslatton OF THE TRAGEDIES OF SOPHOCLES; AS A SINCERE, THOUGH INADEQUATE, ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF EARLY AND ESSENTIAL OBLIGATIONS, IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY HIS GRATEFUL PUPIL AND OBEDIENT SERVANT, THOMAS DALE. INTRODUCTION. To trace the gradual progress of any art or science, from the infancy of its institution to the perfection of its maturity ; — to behold the rude and shapeless materials, passing through successive stages of improvement, till, like the rough marble under the hands of the experi- enced sculptor, they are polished into beauty and moulded into symmetry ; — is one of the most interesting speculations that can occupy the reflecting mind. This remark applies with peculiar force to the Greek Tragic Drama; which, though mean almost beyond credibility viii INTRODUCTION. in its origin, attained, after the lapse of less than a century, the highest degree of splendour and magnificence. Indeed, if we may judge either from the avidity with which dramatic spectacles were anticipated by the Athenians — or from the immense expense which attended their celebration — it may fearlessly be pro- nounced, that in Tragedy, as well as in Paint- ing, Sculpture, and Music, the moderns were far excelled by their predecessors of antiquity. Two sources are assigned for the origin of the Greek drama. By some it is referred back to the Rhapsodists, or wandering bards, who were accustomed, in very remote ages, to travel from city to city, not only reciting their own compositions, but accompanying the recitation with correspondent gestures. Others, with greater probability, ascribe it to the festivals of Bacchus, at which, particularly in the villages, certain hymns were chanted in ho- nour of the God. In these the authors were accustomed to indulge in the keenest personal INTRODUCTION. ix invective against the wealthy and the covetous; and their compositions, thus flattering the de- mocratic, and, if we may be allowed the ex- pression, the levelling spirit of the Athenian populace, were received with general applause. In process of time, these hymns, which were, at first, only an adventitious appendage, be- came an integral part of the ceremony ; and, for the sake of exciting competition, a goat (rpccyog) was awarded as a prize to the com- poser of the best song (uS$) 9 whence arose the name, as well as the art, of Tragedy. These hymns, however, did not long conti- nue to be simply lyrical. Their wild and un- connected strains were gradually reduced to some degree of harmony and order ; a regular narrative of the exploits of the God was in- troduced ; and even this narrative was soon varied by the occasional substitution of an in- terlocutory personage. The intent of this new performer was, by diverting the attention of the audience from the immediate subject of x INTRODUCTION. the recitation, to keep awake their interest, and afford, at the same time, some interval of relief to the singer. It was at this era of the dramatic art, that Thespis, a native of a small borough in Attica, named Icaria, (cir. 540 A.C.) gave the first distinguishing feature to Tragedy, by the introduction of an actor whose office it should be to personate some particular character; the interlocutor before-mentioned being merely a kind of low jester or buffoon. By this means, the Chorus became subordinate to the actor, instead of the actor to the Chorus. As yet, however, the only stage was a tempo- rary scaffold, erected on the cart of Thespis ; and the only disguise of the actor or actors was the lees of wine, with which their faces were besmeared. During the ensuing half century, little or no improvement appears to have been effected in the composition and exhibition of dramatic spectacles. The names, — and scarcely any thing beyond the names, — of some Tragedians INTRODUCTION. x i are recorded, among whom we may particu- larize Phrynichus. He changed the dithyram- bics into a species of verse more suitable to Tragedy, and made a few other alterations ; none, however, of sufficient importance to in- validate the claim of iEschylus to the honour- able appellation of ' Father of the Drama/ This great man was born of an illustrious family, in or about the sixty-third Olympiad, 528 B.C. We are not informed of the circum- stances that first directed his attention to the dramatic art ; but it is recorded, that, before he attained his thirtieth year, he had both conceived and executed the arduous enterprize of redeeming Tragedy from the degraded state in which he found it, and exalting it to one of the highest pinnacles in the temple of literary fame. He first introduced a second and after- wards a third actor, thus varying the monotony of the former representations by dialogue ; he adorned the stage with suitable scenery, and arrayed the performers in appropriate habits. xii INTRODUCTION. In compliance with popular tradition, which assigned to the heroes of the ' olden time ' a loftier stature and more commanding aspect, he elevated his actors by the buskin, disguised them in the mask, and invested them with the insignia of royalty. He increased the number and prescribed the office of the Chorus ; pro- cured the erection of a spacious and commo- dious theatre, and reduced the drama nearly to that form in which it has descended to modern times. But Sophocles, the son of Sophilus, an Athenian, the date of whose birth is fixed at about thirty years posterior to that of iEschy- lus, was destined one day to rival, if not to eclipse, this great luminary. Endowed by nature with superior personal attractions, which were heightened and improved by the judicious management of his education, he became, in very early life, the object of po- pular attention and admiration. Among a chorus of chosen youths, who were celebrating INTRODUCTION. x iii around a trophy the battle of Salamis, he was pre-eminently conspicuous both for the elegance of his person, and the melody of his lyre. His skill in music seems to have pre- saged the harmony of those beautiful compo- sitions which he was one day to produce ; and his dexterity in the exercises of the Palaestra might well qualify him for that office, which necessarily devolved on all the Grecian drama- tists of those ages — to regulate the movements of the person, and direct the modulations of the voice, in their respective actors. He pur- sued, for a season, the track of lyric poetry ; but the bent of his genius directing him to a nobler species of composition, he boldly en- tered into competition with iEschylus, then in exclusive possession of the stage, and was de- clared victor by a plurality of voices in his very first attempt, when he was not more than twenty-five years of age. It is said, though there are substantial reasons for discrediting the account, that iEschylus, fired with indignation x i v INTRODUCTION. at the preference thus given to his rival, with- drew himself into Sicily. The improvements introduced by Sophocles into the drama, consisted principally in the superior dexterity with which he formed the plots of his tragedies, and the relation which he made the Chorus bear to the main action of the piece. The plots of iEschylus were extremely rude and inartificial ; often at war with nature, and sometimes scarcely reconcilable with pos- sibility. Sophocles studied nature. If he was not so conversant as his predecessor with the imaginary world ; if he did not invest with such superhuman attributes the heroes whom a superstitious veneration had exalted into Gods; at least he approached nearer to the true standard of mortality, and raised his cha- racters to that precise elevation, where they would neither be too lofty to excite sympathy, nor so familiar as to incur contempt. He never violates probability to produce effect ; INTRODUCTION. xv and if his heroes are less imposing and sublime, they are, at the same time, more interesting and natural than those of iEschylus. The part, also, which he causes the Chorus to sustain in the action imparts a peculiar finish to the piece. In short, whoever would contemplate the Greek drama in the meridian of its perfec- tion must contemplate it in the Tragedies of Sophocles. For, whatever be the merits of Euripides, (who was born about fourteen years after Sopho- cles, and commenced his theatrical career at the early age of eighteen,) however high be his repu- tation for pathos and purity of moral sentiment, he can hardly be said to have contributed, in any degree, towards the perfection of the dra- ma. His method of opening his plays by a species of Prologue, in which one of the prin- cipal characters tells the audience what may be very proper for them to know, but is not quite so proper for him or her to communicate, can- not be called an improvement ; in fact, generally xv i INTRODUCTION. speaking, nothing can be more unnatural and extravagant. His plots are sometimes even more barren and improbable than those of iEschylus ; his catastrophe occasionally feeble, and not seldom ridiculous. He is, it must be acknowledged, full of solemn and senten- tious maxims, but even these are frequently introduced in so awkward a manner, that their effect is materially invalidated, if not totally lost; while, by Sophocles, though of rarer occurrence, they are invariably displayed to the greatest advantage. Euripides interrupts the progress of his action, for the sole pur- pose of obtruding a prolix and unseasonable moral dissertation. Sophocles, with better judgement and more striking effect, deduces the moral from the event. In short, re- specting the rival merits of these three great poets, we can hardly venture to differ trom Aristophanes, who, in compliance with the common sentiment of the people, assigned the first place to iEschylus, the second to Sopho- cles, and the last to Euripides : though we INTRODUCTION. xv ji may, perhaps, be pardoned for suggesting a doubt whether iEschylus would have been considered the greatest, had he not been the first. It has already been intimated by what cir- cumstances the Chorus; — a branch of the Grecian drama, which the English reader will find some difficulty in tolerating ; — assumed so conspicuous a part. It is a relic, and, in fact, the sole surviving relic of the original poems. The complement of the Chorus varied at differ- ent periods. On one occasion iEschylus intro- duced no less than fifty upon the stage; but by a subsequent edict, the Chorus was limited to twelve; to which number, at the instance of Sophocles, were afterwards added three more. These fifteen persons were arranged five in depth and three in front; their motions were regulated by a flute-player, and their senti- ments were communicated, on all occasions, by their leader, denominated Coryphaeus or Choregus. Hence arises that apparent incon- b xviii INTRODUCTION. gruity, which will strike the English reader, that the Chorus are frequently addressed, and return their answer in the singular num- ber. The first instance of this seeming ano- maly occurs in the CEdipus Tyrannus, p. 29> where the Choregus, for himself and his asso- ciates, disclaims all participation in the death of Laius — Mighty King! So will I speak, as in thy curse involved ; I slew him not — While the choral odes were singing, the Chorus performed certain evolutions, marching with a kind of military step, and in the order above mentioned, first from right to left, whence the former division of the ode itself is called " Strophe ; " and then from left to right, whence the corresponding division is called " Antistrophe." During the " Epode," they stood still in the middle of the stage, on which they remained during the whole time of the representation, except when their absence was INTRODUCTION. x i x indispensably required; as in the Ajax, where the hero falls upon his sword, which occurrence could not take place in the presence of any witnesses. On the whole, however the Chorus may be at variance with the notions of the moderns, there can be no doubt that it was rather an ornament than an incumbrance to the ancient stage. It was generally the vehicle of those beautiful moral sentiments in which the Tragic poets delighted, and which justly elevated the dramatic performances of Greece to the dignity of a religious festival. 1 It being the principal, or rather the exclu- sive design of these introductory remarks, to 1 The Chorus, Francklin observes, as introduced by Sophocles, is composed of such persons as might naturally be supposed present on the occasion ; whose situations might so far interest them in the events of the Fable, as to render their presence useful and necessary ; and yet not so deeply concerned as to render them incapable of offering- useful reflections and giving advice, an office for which they were particularly appointed. b 2 xx INTRODUCTION. clear up such difficulties as may present them- selves to a reader who is unacquainted with the peculiar customs of the Ancients, we shall not. consider it necessary to enter into a minute examination of the Greek Theatres. A full and satisfactory account of these, and all' par- ticulars connected with them, may be found either in Francklin's " Dissertation on Ancient Tragedy," or in the Travels of Anacharsis. We shall confine ourselves to a few concise remarks respecting the division and recitation of the plays, with a brief explanation of the " Unities/' The division into five acts; though, as we learn from the canon of Horace, Neve minor, neu sit quinto productior actu, it was prevalent among the Latins, appears to have been altogether unknown to the Greeks. The action was uniform and uninterrupted from the commencement to the catastrophe. INTRODUCTION. xxi This is evident, as well from the constant con- tinuance of the Chorus upon the stage, as from the difficulty of dividing any of the remaining Greek dramas into five acts, which shall bear any reasonable proportion to one another. The more natural division, and that which is sanc- tioned by the authority of Aristotle, is into Prologue, which extends from the opening of the drama to the first interlude or chorus ; Episode, which includes all between the first and last interludes ; Exode, which comprises the remainder from the last interlude to the close. Considering, however, the different ac- ceptation in which the word prologue is now used, it will perhaps be more intelligible to an English reader, if the whole drama be re- garded as one long piece of a single act. It cannot be decidedly pronounced whether the "iaftjGo/ (which, in the following translation, are rendered by the usual metre of tragedy, blank heroic verse,) were accompanied with music or not. The former supposition seems xx ii INTRODUCTION. the more probable, since music, according to Aristotle, was one of the essential parts of Tragedy. The recitation may possibly have been a kind of slow and solemn chant; — and wherever it is observed that sudden and abrupt transitions occur in the metre, a question or answer being frequently conveyed in a single word, there it may be supposed that the music was suddenly changed. It is certain that the Greek music possessed, in a peculiar degree, the power of expressing the passions; love, hatred, joy, sorrow, hope, fear, frenzy, jealousy, despair, were alternately depicted by its magic influence; and that too in such perfection, that the effect of even dramatic illusion would not for an instant be impeded or impaired. It will appear somewhat singular, that, with very little exception, the entire action of the play is supposed to pass in one and the same place : in the (Edipus Tyrannus, the Antigone, the Trachiniee, and the Electra, before the ves- tibule of a palace ; in the (Edipus Coloneus, on INTRODUCTION. xxiii the verge of a grove dedicated to the Furies ; in the Philoctetes, near a cave on the coast of Lemnos. This arises from the extreme rigour of the rules which the ancient dramatists pre- scribed to themselves, respecting what are called the Unities. These Unities are three- fold, — of Action, of Time, and of Place. We may define the Unity of Action to be, a con- centration of the interest into one or two prin- cipal characters, with such a continuity of it through the whole drama, that the spectators' thoughts may be exclusively directed to the developement of one catastrophe. Thus the detection of the guilt of CEdipus in one tragedy and his death in another; the execution of Creon's tyrannical edict on the generous and devoted Antigone; the destruction of Hercules by the malignant subtilty of the Centaur; the liberation of Philoctetes from his captivity in Lemnos; and the triumph of Electra and Orestes over the murderers of their father ; — these are the points on which our attention is riveted from the first ; and, in the tendency of xx i v INTRODUCTION. every incident to produce the anticipated result, the Unity of Action is exemplified. The only instance in which Sophocles has violated it appears in the Ajax, where the action is con- tinued after the death of the hero. This, how- ever, may be accounted for by the peculiarity of the heathen superstition respecting the in- terment of the dead. The Unity of Time requires that the whole action should be com- prised within the space between the rising and the setting of the sun. This rule Sophocles has disregarded in his Trachiniae, where the voyage to Euboea and back is performed during the representation, even in the short interval while the Chorus is singing an ode. The Unity of Place, as we have already inti- mated, confines the action to a single place; the exception to which rule occurs also in the Ajax, where indeed the nature of the action requires it, as the Chorus separates into two parties, each headed by a leader, in search of Ajax. It is, nevertheless, possible that the scene here may open, and discover Ajax be- INTRODUCTION. xxy hind. — The observance of these rules, it will readily be seen, must have been an oppressive and almost intolerable restraint on the " free flights" of genius; yet it is a circumstance highly creditable to Sophocles, that while he is more attentive to the Unities than either of his rival dramatists, his plots are more con- formable to probability, — his incidents more consistent with the tenor of real life. The Greeks had a great aversion to the in- troduction of many characters upon the stage at the same time. The general restriction in this respect, — we are not prepared to say that it may not have been violated in particular in- stances, — seems to have been, that there should not be more than three 2 actors, beside the Cho- rus, actually engaged in the dialogue ; and that, if the appearance of a greater number on the 2 Nee quarta loqui peronsa laboret. — Hor. Ars. Poet. 192 xxvi INTRODUCTION. stage be absolutely indispensable, they should be merely " Mutae Personae," taking no part in the action. Such are Eurysaces in the Ajax, and Pylades in the Electra. It is evi- dently one of the principal reasons for this arrangement, that the favourite actor frequently supported, in the representation, more than one character. Thus, in the CEdipus Tyrannus, the same actor might have performed Creon and the Corinthian, who never appear together; in the Ajax, Agamemnon and Menelaus ; — by only changing the masks. The necessity for the use of masks will be doubly apparent, when it is remembered that the Greeks never admitted women on the stage; though it must seem wonderful how male performers could success- fully imitate that voice — Ever soft, Gentle, and low; an excellent thing- in woman. — But it is time that we return to Sophocles. We have already seen that Sophocles com- INTRODUCTION. xxv ii menced his poetical career by a victory over iEschylus. He pursued it with distinguished, though not invariable success, and, if one ac- count be credited, expired in the very arms of triumph. Though the number of his compo- sitions, to which the prize was awarded, is not stated to be the same by all authors, it is yet generally admitted, that he was more success- ful in proportion than either of his competi- tors. He is said to have produced on the whole one hundred and twenty tragedies, eighteen of which, or, according to others, twenty-four, were honoured with the palm; while but thirteen out of the hundred trage- dies of iEschylus were equally fortunate, and five only out of the eighty dramas which are attributed to Euripides. It is not, however, as a Poet alone that Sophocles is illustrious in the annals of his country; he was scarcely less eminent as a warrior. He was the companion in arms of Thucydides and of Pericles, with whom he xxviii INTRODUCTION. was associated in reducing to obedience the island of Samos. It is affirmed, that he was afterwards complimented with the government of this new conquest on the representation of his Antigone. — Sophocles was the only one of the three great Tragedians, who succeeded in preserving the attachment of a people so cha- racteristically fickle as the Athenians. iEschy- lus and Euripides both died in exile, while Sophocles, in full enjoyment of the love of his fellow-citizens, and with unabated poetical fervour, survived in the bosom of his country to an extreme old age. The only bitter ingre- dient which mingled in his overflowing cup of happiness was the ingratitude of his children, who accused him before the magistrates of being incompetent, by reason of the decay of his faculties, to the management of his own affairs. This accusation he triumphantly re- futed by reading to the judges his CEdipus at Colonos, one of the most interesting of his productions, and full of that calm and gentle beauty which might be expected from hisL age INTRODUCTION. xx j x and habits. The J marvellous incidents which are related by Plutarch, Cicero, and others, however unworthy of credit or repetition, are at least sufficient to prove that Sophocles, on account of the excellence of his character, was considered the peculiar favourite of the Gods. And as this great man had been fortunate in his life, so was he happy in his death; he had witnessed the glories of his country in the zenith of her grandeur, but he was spared the bitter pang of beholding her degradation. He expired but a short time before Athens was taken by Lysander, choked, as some relate, by a grapestone, or overpowered, according to others, by excess of joy on having obtained the prize. This latter account we are inclined to question, because his rivals iEschylus and 3 Plutarch mentions that the God iEsculapius dwelt with Sophocles ; and Cicero relates, that a goblet having been stolen from the temple of Hercules, the thief was made known to the poet in a vision of the night, which was thrice repeated, till the booty was restored. XX1L INTRODUCTION. Euripides were already deceased, and had left behind them no antagonist over whom Sopho- cles could be honoured by a triumph. So high was the estimation in which this great man was held throughout Greece, that even the rough and perfidious Lysander intermitted for a short period the siege of Athens, that he might afford her citizens an opportunity of celebrating the obsequies of the last and most venerated of their bards. The most popular poetical translations of Sophocles are those of Francklin and of Potter. Both are possessed of merit, though in a very different degree. The former translation, which appeared in 17 59, is in many parts extremely loose and inaccurate. The pathetic simplicity of the original degenerates, in the translation, into a rude and insipid familiarity; nor does the translator seem to be aware, that a very literal rendering may be a very incorrect one. In the Choral Odes, Dr. Francklin has been INTRODUCTION. xxx i particularly unfortunate. Nevertheless, his work is entitled to considerable praise, as being the first successful attempt to clothe Sophocles " in an English habit/'' and thus recommend him to the perusal of those who were unacquainted with the language of the original. The notes, it may be added, convey much valuable information. The translation of Potter is highly finished and correct, and he may justly be said, in re- ference to his great original, to have been " True to his sense, but truer to his fame." It is in those very points, where Dr. Francklin had most conspicuously failed, that Potter most decidedly excels. His Choral Odes are distinguished by a judicious adaptation of metre, and a close adherence to the sense of the original ; nor does he ever deviate from the dignified tone of Tragedy. He is simple, with- out being familiar; faithful, without being xxx ii INTRODUCTION. insipid. He may perhaps be occasionally con- sidered deficient in spirit and animation; but if he rarely soars, at least he never sinks. In short, it may be pronounced, — and there can be no higher praise, — that the Translator is not unworthy of the Author. The reasons which prompted this new trans- lation, and the particulars in which it professes to differ from those which have preceded it, have already been submitted to the Public in a Prospectus; and, judging from the number and respectability of the Subscribers, it is presumed that they have not been unsatisfactory. The main object was there stated to be, " to render the diversified metres of the original by mea- sures as nearly corresponding as the genius of our language will permit." How far this object has been accomplished, it will remain for the Public to decide. Of the Notes which are appended to the pre- INTRODUCTION. xxxiii sent Translation, it may be necessary to state, that they are designed principally for the in- formation of the English reader. The greater part of them are borrowed from various authors ; 4 and wherever a distinct acknowledgement has been accidentally omitted, it is hoped that this general recognition will redeem the Translator from the imputation of attempting to profit by the labours of others, without confessing his obligations. The few which are original have no pretensions to depth of erudition or acute- ness of conjecture; they are merely intended as illustrative or explanatory ; and their brevity will, it is trusted, be excused, by a considera- tion of the facility with which they might have been multiplied and enlarged. This Translation, originally undertaken merely 4 The edition which has been taken for the basis of the present Work is that of Erfurdt ; though the text and an- notations of Brunck, Lobeck, and other Commentators have been diligently considered and compared. xxxiv INTRODUCTION. as an exercise for study in earlier days, was commenced and carried forward in the quiet seclusion of a College ; but, after having been abandoned for reasons which it is unnecessary to state, was resumed and completed in the few brief intervals which could be snatched from the avocations of a laborious profession. Could the difficulties have been foreseen, which have since obstructed its progress, it is probable that the work would never have been presented to the Public. But the highly respectable list of Subscribers at once invited and encouraged the best exertions of the Translator to redeem his pledge ; and, for this purpose, he has spared no pains in revising and correcting his first sketch, and endeavouring to express the sense of the original as closely as the idiom of the English language will allow. The time which has been devoted to the prosecution of his task has passed pleasantly, and, he would gladly persuade himself, not unprofitably ; for it is assuredly matter of more than mere curi- osity to observe, what opinions were entertain- INTRODUCTION. xxxv ed by the most enlightened people upon earth on the great subjects of Religion and Morality, centuries before the ' day-spring from on high' arose with the Gospel. If the polished Athe- nians are found to have mixed the most absurd puerilities with their civil and religious solem- nities, and occasionally to have combined pure and philosophical principles of morals with the most impure and inconsistent system of Poly- theism ; this consideration ought not only to excite our gratitude, for the transcendent advan- tages which we enjoy, but to awaken humility, when we reflect how grossly we have perverted, or how negligently improved them. And he who thus compares the heathen code of mo- rals with the divine institutes of Christianity will, we venture to predict, rise with no incon- siderable benefit from the perusal of the " Tra- gedies of Sophocles/' OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. VOL. I. CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. When Laius, King of Thebes, upon his marriage with Jocasta, implored the Gods to bless their union with a numerous and happy offspring 1 , it was replied by the oracle, that Jupiter, incensed by the crimes of his ancestors, had assigned to him an only son, by whose hand the Fates had decreed that he should one day perish. The King, appalled by this inauspicious response, formed a solemn resolution never to approach Jocasta. In the reckless hardihood of intoxication, this resolu- tion was disregarded or forgotten, and Jocasta became the mother of a son, predestined, ere his- birth, to be the murderer of his father. b 2 4 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. Though deterred by the natural yearnings of maternal tenderness from executing in its full ex- tent the mandate of Laius, who had enjoined her to destroy the infant as soon as it was born, the Queen, nevertheless, delivered it to a confidential domestic, with a charge to expose it upon the moun- tains. The slave, in pbedience to this cruel and unnatural command, bored the infant's feet, and suspended it by the heels from a tree in the wild and unfrequented forests of Cithseron. In this condition the child was found by one of the shepherds of Polybus, King of Corinth, who, moved with com- passion, unbound the babe, carried it to Corinth, and presented it to the King, his master. Peri- bcea, the wife of Polybus, prevailed upon her husband, as they were childless, to adopt the infant ; who being, accordingly, received into the palace, was educated with the utmost care and tenderness, as the son of Polybus and Peribcea, and the destined inheritor of the crown of Corinth. It is unnecessary, even for the information of the English reader, to pursue the narrative beyond this point, since all the subsequent events of the life of CEdipus are incidentally developed by him- CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 5 self in the progress of the drama. Suffice it, therefore, to premise, that, at the period from which the action commences, (Edipus is supposed to have swayed the sceptre of Thebes for many years, loving his people, and not less beloved by them, happy in an affectionate consort, a flourishing race of children, a loyal and devoted friend. But a dark and lowering cloud has begun to overcast this hitherto calm and unclouded sky : Thebes is visited by a pestilential disorder, universally ascribed to the anger of the Gods ; though the cause of their indignation is enveloped in a mysterious and total obscurity. The baleful effects of this penal visitation are most pathetically described in the opening scene. Henceforth, the history of (Edi- pus proceeds collaterally with the business of the piece. This tragedy has been honoured with the con- current approbation of the most acute and judici- ous critics of every age : it was adopted by Aris- totle as a perfect model of dramatic excellence, and few of the modern commentators have been less enthusiastic in their encomiums. It is affirmed to bear the same relation to tragic, which the Iliad 6 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. bears to epic poetry. It is said to stand alone and unrivalled, while all other efforts of tragic writers can only be successful in proportion as they ap- proximate more or less to this, their common standard and criterion. Indeed, when we consider the admirable dex- terity which is evinced in the mechanism of the piece, the mutual consistency and harmonious combination of its parts, the gradual and progres- sive developement of the various circumstances which unite to elicit the catastrophe, it must be acknowledged that this tragedy is absolutely perfect. Not an incident occurs, however trivial in appear- ance, which does not conduce to some appropriate and important end ; not a character is introduced which does not sustain some part of vital and essen- tial interest in the grand business of the drama. The poet never loses sight of the end in the prosecution of the means. If a momentary hope be excited, it tends but to deepen the impending and inevitable despair ; if a ray of light dart rapidly athwart the gloom, it only displays, in all its horror, the ap- proaching " blackness of darkness." The denun- ciations of (Edipus against the criminal, so worded (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 7 from the first as to apply peculiarly to himself; the ambiguous response brought by Creon from the oracle of Delphi ; the reluctant compliance of Tiresias with the first summons of the monarch, as though he were constrained by some mighty and mysterious agency, which he vainly struggled to control ; his subsequent vehemence of prophetic indignation ; the profane and arrogant exultation which bursts from Jocasta on the apparent confutation of the oracle by the death of Polybus ; the faint solitary hope, to which the shuddering monarch clings in that pause of agonizing suspense, while he is awaiting the arrival of the Theban slave; the resistless and overwhelming conviction which flashes upon his soul at the clear unequivocal testi- mony of this last fatal witness ; all these circum- stances are successively described in a manner so lively and natural, that the interest never lan- guishes for an instant. We are prepossessed from the first in favour of the unhappy prince ; we feel with him and for him ; we are continually agitated between hope and fear; and, though we know from the beginning that the catastrophe is inevita- ble, we are scarcely less startled and surprised by 8 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. the appalling discovery, than if it had been totally- unexpected and unforeseen. Another point in which the poet has displayed his consummate acquaintance with the nicest re- finement of his art, is the delineation of the cha- racter of (Edipus. Had this devoted monarch been represented altogether without blemish, we might have pitied his sorrows, but we could not have sympathised with them : had he been pourtrayed as an utterly abandoned criminal, we could neither have sympathised with him nor pitied him. We feel, comparatively, but little interest in characters which rise far above, or sink greatly below, the common level of mankind ; the former excite our indifference, — the latter, our dis- gust. But (Edipus, unlike the heroes of modern tragedy, neither sins like a demon, nor suffers like a God. 1 He is in all things a perfectly human character, a being of like passions with ourselves, not free from faults, yet " more sinned against Aristotle, Poetics, xxv. CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 9 than sinning," — not wholly undeserving of censure, yet far more unfortunate than culpable. Such is man. Mentem mortalia tangunt. We cannot, however, forbear to record our dis- sent from one eulogy of Sophocles, which, notwith- standing, has been pronounced by no mean authority. " Never," it has been said, " was there a tale more affecting than that of (Edipus, and never was it told more pathetically than by Sophocles." * In the former part of this panegyric we cannot acquiesce ; on the contrary, we consider the tale, on which the drama is founded, as altogether repugnant and revolting to the best and finest feelings of our nature ; and in no one instance is the genius of Sophocles so transcendently triumphant, as in the consummate address with which he has treated a subject calculated, in less powerful hands, to awaken only the strongest emotions of horror, in- dignation, and disgust. But the master-spirit of the great poet has tempered the revolting details of his plot with so much pure human feeling, such 2 Knox's Essays, No. clxxvi. 10 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. pathetic and redeeming- benevolence, that our sym- pathy is never for an instant checked by abhor- rence, or superseded by disgust. We forget the crimes of CEdipus in his misfortunes ; nor do we so much regard the murderer, the parricide, the tS zra,Tpog ofxoa-Tropog, as the dethroned monarch, — the blind, self-devoted, and despairing out- cast, — the affectionate and miserable father, who, though his children survive, is yet worse than childless, for they only survive to misery, and of that misery he is the cause ! But it would be unpardonable in a Christian writer, while commenting upon this drama, to pass lightly over that which Sophocles himself claimed as the brightest ornament of his native Athens, 3 and which constitutes not the least interesting feature in his own immortal dramas, — a pious and devout reve- rence for the Gods. The chorus in this tragedy nobly sustain their dignified character. Venerable alike for age and virtue, they will not suffer to pass unnoticed or unreproved the unguarded exclamations CEdip. Colon. 1005. CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. H even of the monarch whom they revere and love. The choral hymns breathe a beautiful spirit of meek and holy feeling, coupled with the most poetic elevation of sentiment, and interspersed with pathetic appeals to Heaven to avert its vengeance from their country and their King. And we trust it will not be deemed intrusive or irrelevant, if we seize the op- portunity of drawing, not from this drama alone, but from the collective works of Sophocles, the following moral conclusion: that if, under the disadvantages of a confused and complicated my- thology, and at a period when, with respect to religious truth, " darkness covered the earth and gross darkness the people," — if a heathen poet could then inculcate the fear of the Gods as the most exalted virtue and the most imperative duty, how ought we to evince, by our more rigid and enlightened observance of the same precept, that " the dark- ness is past, and the true light now shineth," — ■ that, as our knowledge is more extensive than was that of the heathen, so is our piety more fervent, our morality more pure, our practice more virtuous and irreproachable. DRAMATIS PERSONS (Edipus, King of Thebes. Priest of Jupiter. Creon, Brother of Jocasta. Tiresias. Jocasta, Wife of (Edipus. Corinthian. Herdsman. Messenger. Chorus of aged Thebans. (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. Scene — Thebes, before the Palace of (Edipus. OEDIPUS. THEBANS. (Ed. Why, O my children, from the ancient stock Of Cadmus sprung, why haste ye to these seats Bearing the suppliant branches ? ' Incense breathes Through all the town, and votive paeans blend With deep and bitter waitings . O my people, I could not learn your woes from other lips, 1 Suppliants, whether they addressed themselves to Gods or men, were accustomed to bear in their hands olive-branches tipped with wool, called, by the Greeks, re^arct, by the Latins, velamina. 14 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. But came in person, (Edipus, your King ! A name to all illustrious. Say, old man — Thine age demands such reverence — wherefore thus Ye bend imploring ? Dread ye future ills, Or strive with present griefs ? My will is prompt To aid in all :— obdurate were my heart Could I behold a sight like this unmoved. Pr. O (Edipus, imperial lord of Thebes ! Thou seest our sad estate, and how we sit Before thine altars ; a some, whose callow wings Refuse a lengthened flight ; — some, bowed with age, Priests of the Gods — myself the Priest of Jove, And some, the flower of all our Theban youth. Another band their suppliant boughs extend At the two fanes of Pallas, 5 and the shrine Oracular, by fair Ismenus' stream. The state — as thou may'st witness — with the storm 2 The altars here intended were not consecrated to (Edipus, but simply erected before the doors of his palace, and, most probably, dedicated to Apollo. 3 In Thebes, there were two temples of Minerva erected to her under the names of Oncaea and Ismenia. Apollo had a temple on the banks of the Ismenus, and from the flames and ashes of its altars his priests drew prophecies ; hence 'io-pjm c-Tro&y, the prophetic ashes of Ismenus. 1EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 15 Is struggling, and in vain essays- to rear Her head emergent from the blood-stained wave. Her fruits are blasted in the opening bud ; Her herds, infected, perish ; her weak births Are blighted immature. The fiery God, 4 Loathed Pestilence, o'er this devoted city Hangs imminent, and desolates th' abode Of Cadmus, while in shrieks and piercing groans Dark Pluto richly revels. Hence I bend, With these sad youths, a suppliant at thine altars ; Not that we deem thee equal to the Gods, But in the sad vicissitudes of life, Or visitations of the angry Gods, Account thee first of men. At Thebes arriving, Thou didst redeem us from the tax imposed By that relentless monster, 5 uninformed, Untaught of us ; by pitying Heaven alone We deem thee sent our glory to restore. 4 The " fiery God," according to Musgrave, is Mars. The ground of his conjecture is the application of the epithet •an f6ui to the planet bearing the name of that divinity. It appears more probable, however, that the expression poeti- cally denotes a personification of Pestilence. 5 'Aoi&jD, literally, songstress ; so called, because her enig- mas were propounded in verse. 16 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. Now, worthiest (Edipus ! on thee we fix Our supplicating eyes, — O find us aid, Or from the sure responses of the Gods, Or man's experienced wisdom. Oft we see That prudent counsels, e'en in deadliest ills, Impart returning life. Noblest of men Arise, once more the drooping state revive, Arise, and wisdom guide thee ! Though our realm Hails thee her great Deliverer for the deeds Of other days, no more can we recall Thy happier sway — if, once by thee preserved, Again we sink in ruin. Then restore Our rescued state to safety ; and as erst With happiest omens thou didst rise and save, So be again thyself. Still o'er this land Wouldst thou bear sway, — 'tis better far to rule O'er peopled cities, than deserted realms. 6 Nought can strong tower or stately ship avails If nobler man, the soul of each, be wanting. 6 The same thought has been beautifully imitated, we might almost say translated, by Sir William Jones. What constitutes a state ? Not high-raised battlements, or laboured mound, Thick wall, or moated gate : Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned, CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 17 (Ed. O my afflicted people, but too well I know the purport of your prayers ; I know Your common sufferings ; yet, 'mid all your woes, None mourns so deeply as your pitying monarch : Each o'er his own peculiar misery weeps, Nor thinks of others' pain ; — my heart is wrung At once for you, the city, and myself. Nor do ye rouse me now from reckless sleep ; Know, many tears your King hath shed for you, And traversed many a path in thought's wild maze, One remedy alone my search discerned ; This I at once applied. The noble Creon, Menceceus' son, my kinsman, 7 have I sent To Phoebus' Pythian shrine, charged to demand How I may save the state by word or deed. Now, as I reckon the revolving days, The strange delay alarms me ; for his stay Hath passed the allotted term. When he arrives, Not bays, and broad-armed ports Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride : No ; — men, high-minded men. 7 r«/*jSgof. The Greeks restrict this term, in its proper and peculiar sense, to those who are connected by ties of affinity, but not by blood, though it is occasionally taken, in a general sense, to express both. VOL. I. C 18 CEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. If I perform not all the God ordains, Account your monarch basest of mankind. Pr. Well hast thou said, O King ! These youths proclaim The wished approach of Creon. (Ed. Royal Phoebus, Grant he return with tidings not less glad, Than the fair promise of his brightening eye. Pr. He seems indeed exultant, or his brow With the rich laurel were not thus enwreathed. 8 (Ed. Soon shall we learn ; our voice can reach him now. Enter Creon. (EDIPUS, CREON, PRIEST, THEBANS. (Ed. Prince, our loved kinsman, great Menoeceus' son, What answer bring'st thou from the God to Thebes ? Cr. Auspicious tidings ; e'en our present ills, If guided well, may yield a prosperous issue. 8 Those who returned from the oracle of Delphi, with an auspicious answer, were crowned with wreaths of laurel. OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 19 (Ed. What mean thy words ? Nor livelier hope I draw, Nor added terrors, from a speech like this. Cr. If 'mid this concourse thou wouldst hear, I stand Prepared to speak ; if not, to pass within. (Ed. Nay, speak to all. I count not life itself Of equal interest with my people's sorrow. Cr. Let me then tell the bidding of the God, 4?hcebus hath straitly charged us to expel Our state's pollution, nurtured in its bosom ; Nor harbour guilt that cannot be forgiven. (Ed. What, then, is this mysterious guilt, and what The due atonement ? Cr. Exile from the land, Or death requiting death, since guiltless blood Troubles the state. (Ed. To whose disastrous fate Points this response ? Cr. O King, ere yet thy hand Assumed the helm of empire in our state, Laius was lord in Thebes. (Ed. Thus fame hath told me : — I ne'er beheld the monarch. Cr. He was slain ; c 2 20 (EDIPITS TYRANNUS. And with no dubious voice the God enjoins On the fell murderers to avenge his death. (Ed. Where do they lurk ? and where shall we explore The path, so hard to trace, of guilt like this ? Cr. E'en in this land, he said, pursuit may soon Detect the deed, by slow neglect concealed. (Ed. Died Laius in the palace, or the field, Or by assassins in a foreign land ? Cr. To seek a distant oracle, 'tis said, He left the home to which he ne'er returned. (Ed. Did then no herald, no attendant view His fall, of whom we may demand the truth ? Cr. All died, save one, who fled in wild dismay, And of the scene he witnessed could recount One circumstance alone. (Ed. Repeat that one. If the first light of hope be well improved, A full disclosure may requite our toil. Cr. He said that ruffians met the King, who fell Oppressed by numbers, not by single hand. (Ed. How could a robber, if unbribed by traitors Within the city, dare this desperate deed ? Cr. Such was suspicion's comment ; but there rose No bold avenger, 'mid our ills, to Laius ! CEDIPUS TYRANNTJS. 21 (Ed. But, when your monarch was thus basely slain, What cause withheld you from a strict inquiry? Cr. The Sphynx, propounding charms in mystic verse, Turned all our thoughts from dubious ills away To instant evils. (Ed. From their very source Soon will I drag to light these deeds of darkness : Such inquisition for a murdered King Is worthy both of Phcebus and of you ; I too, confederate in this righteous cause, Will vindicate at once the state and heaven. Swayed by no distant interests, do I rise To crush this foul pollution,— 'tis my cause; Who shed the blood of Laius would embrue, With equal daring, his bold hand in mine; Your King avenging, thus I guard myself. But from your seats, my children, rise with speed ; Bear hence your suppliant boughs. And let a herald Convoke the Theban people to our presence ; Nought will I leave untraced ; — Phcebus my guide, To gladness will we soar, or sink to ruin. Pr. Arise, my sons ; the end for which we came Is now accomplished, for the King hath said it. 22 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. And may the God, who sent this dark response, Shine forth our saviour, and this plague arrest. [Exit CEdipus, 8$c. Chorus. STROPHE I. Sweet-breathing voice of Jove, what fateful word Bring'stthou to Thebes from Delphi's golden shrine? Troubled in soul, I quake with awe divine ! O Paean, Power of healing, most adored In Delos' hallowed isle, thou wak'st my fear ! What dread decree, remote or near, Shall thy prophetic voice proclaim ? Say, child of golden Hope, imperishable Fame ! ANTISTROPHE I. Daughter of Jove, immortal Pallas ! hear The suppliant vows that first to thee are paid ; Thy sister Dian next, earth-ruling maid, Who 'mid the forum her proud throne doth rear ; And the far-darting Phoebus ! Mighty Three ! Appear — avert our misery ! If from our Thebes her former woe Your guardian-care dispelled, O come to aid us now ! CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 23 STROPHE II. Alas ! unnumbered ills we bear ; Dismay and anguish reign Through all our state ; and wisdom's care Strives, 'mid dejection and despair, To bring relief in vain. Nor ripen now the fruits of earth, Nor mothers, in th'untimely birth, The struggling throes sustain. Swift as the wild bird's rapid flight, Or flames that flash through circling night, Unnumbered spectres sink, a joyless train, To the dark shores of Pluto's dreary reign. ANTISTROPHE II. Thus doth th' unpeopled city sigh, Wide o'er whose pavements spread The lifeless heaps unheeded lie, Ungraced with pious obsequy, Or tear in pity shed. Matrons and wives, a mournful band, Suppliant around the altars stand ; With groans of piercing dread, Their votive strains to Heaven ascend, And sighs with louder pseans blend. 24 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. Bright daughter of the Mightiest ! fair-eyed Maid ? Rise in thy might, and send thy people aid ! STROPHE III. This ruthless power, who, raging round, Clad in no panoply of war, 9 Inflicts a deeper, deadlier wound — O drive him from our land afar In backward flight, or where the wave Hides Amphitrite's trackless cave; Or where the restless whirlwinds roar On Thracia's bleak and barbarous shore. If aught survives the baleful night 'Tis blasted by the morning-light. Oh Thou, who roll'st red lightnings in thine ire, Smite with thy vengeful bolt the foe, Eternal Sire ! ANTISTROPHE III. And from thy bright and golden bow Speed the keen shafts, Lyceean King ! 9 A^ea rlv patefov, Martem ustivum, the same with 5 ntv^d- go; 0eof, above-mentioned. * Ayu'Kx.oc, kait'^m, not equipped in panoply; the ravages of pestilence being more desolating than the violence of war. CEDIPtJS TYRANNUS 25 The shafts that ever strike the foe, These in thy people's succour wing ; Thou, Dian, lift thy beams of light On us, as on Lycaeum's height; Thee too, with golden mitre crowned, Whose name exalts thy Thebes renowned ; Thee, Bacchus, flushed with wine's deep hue, Whose path th'infuriate Nymphs pursue ; On thee I call ; be thy red torches driven To crush this fatalPest,thisPower abhorred in heaven. Re-enter (Edipus. (EDIPUS. CHORUS. (Ed. I hear thy prayers, nor are they breathed in vain — If thou wilt heed my counsels, and observe Whate'er the crisis claims, thou mayst achieve A remedy or respite from thy ills. I, as a stranger to the tale, will speak ; A stranger to the deed. I cannot hope To search it far with not a track to guide me ; Yet, last enrolled among the sons of Thebes, This is my charge to all her citizens : 26 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. Whoe'er is conscious of the murderous hand That shed the blood of Laius, I ordain He do forthwith reveal to me the whole : And lest, by fear withheld, he shrink to own His latent guilt, no heavier doom awaits him, Than to retire uninjured into exile ; Or if one know th' assassin, and he draw His breath from foreign soil, still let him speak, — With gifts and added thanks will we requite him. If yet ye all are silent, and there be One, for his own life or his friend's appalled, Who still shall slight our mandate, hear ye next The solemn edict we will then proclaim. This man, whoe'er he be, let none that owns Our sceptre and our sway presume to grant The shelter of a home ; let none accost him ; Let none associate with him in the vows And victims of the Gods, or sprinkle o'er him The lustral stream ; IO let all, from every roof, 10 Xe'pjSs. This word does not, as Potter has translated it, imply the laver itself; but denotes, according to Athe- naeus, water in which was dipped a firebrand taken from the altar where the sacrifice had been offered ; sprinkling with this all who were present at the sacrifice, they performed the lustration. (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 27 Chase far the dire pollution, as the word Of Phoebus by his oracle enjoined. Thus will I be confederate with the God, And with the murdered monarch. On the wretch Who wrought this impious deed, or if alone, Or leagued with more, he shroud his head in darkness, I imprecate my curse ; may he consume His joyless years in misery and despair, Torn from the common blessings of mankind. Yea, on myself, 1 if, conscious of the deed, I grant the wretch asylum in my home, The same dread curse, in all its vengeance, fall ! Ye too I charge, our solemn word obey, Both for your King, the God, and this poor land, Now parched and withering in the wrath of Heaven. Nay, had the Gods their warning voice withheld, It ill became you unatoned to leave A crime like this,— a warrior, and a King, Cut off by traitorous guilt. 'Twas then your part Brunck proposes to read this passage, y&votro ^ a f i/hejSStpj, " I imprecate the same curse upon him, even if resident in my own family ; " but the common reading, Ipov %vvsi$6mo<;, which we have adopted in the text, seems preferable. 28 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. To press a strict inquiry,* now 'tis mine. Mine is the realm which once his sceptre swayed : Mine is his nuptial couch, and mine his wife ; Mine too had been his children, but that Heaven Willed not to bless him with a prosperous seed ; And fate in ruin burst upon his head. — Therefore, in his behalf, as in a father's, 5 Will I arise, and every path explore, To seize the dark assassin of the son Of Labdacus, the heir of Polydore, Cadmus, and old Agenor. And I pray, 2 It has been objected by the severity of criticism, that so long a period could scarcely have elapsed since the death of Laius, without some inquiry into the circumstances which had occasioned it. We might reply, in defence of the poet, With whom could such an inquiry be expected to originate ? Jocasta, without any violation of probability, may be rather supposed anxious to suppress than to revive the memory of her former husband ; and if even CEdipus had been apprized of the circumstances, why should he feel so intense an interest in the fate of a stranger, as to institute an inquiry into a crime, which does not even appear to have been perpetrated within the jurisdiction of Thebes? 3 We cannot but notice here the consummate address of the poet, in causing CEdipus to assume the character and re- lation which rightfully belong to him, but of which he is so fatally unconscious. CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 29 That Earth, though tilled in sorrow, may deny Her kindly fruits to all who slight our charge ; Their marriage-bed be childless ; may they sink In anguish keen as that we now deplore, Yea, meet a deadlier doom. To you, my friends, And all the Thebans who approve our will, May justice lend her aid, and the good Gods Accord their favouring presence. Ch. Mighty King! So will I speak, as in thy curse involved ; I slew him not, nor yet can I disclose The murderer. Phoebus, who this search ordained, Alone can guide it to unveil the guilty. (Ed. True are thy words ; but who can force the Gods To swerve from their high pleasure ? Ch. What my breast Inspires, would I a second time propose. (Ed. Though itbe thrice, forbear not thou to speak. Ch. The seer Tiresias, in prophetic skill, Is scarce, I know, by Phoebus self excelled ; Ask thou of him, O King, he will resolve thee. (Ed. Nor on this hope have I been slow to act. Counselled by Creon, twice have we required His presence, and much marvel why he comes not. 30 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. Ch. Vague and most dubious are the ancient rumours. (Ed. What are they? I would weigh e'en rumour well. Ch. Tis said some travellers slew him ! (Ed. This I heard ; But none can say who saw it. Ch. If he be Alive to fear, he will not calmly bear Thy stern and solemn curse. (Ed. Who trembled not To do such deed, will never quake at words. Ch. One now draws nigh, whose voice shall soon convict him. They lead the reverend prophet, in whose breast Alone of mortals shines inherent truth. Enter Tiresias. CEDIPUS, TIRESIAS, CHORUS. (Ed. Tiresias, whose expansive mind surveys All man can learn, or solemn silence seal, The signs of heaven, and secrets of the earth ; (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 31 Though sight is quenched in darkness, well thou know'st The fatal plague that desolates our Thebes ; From which, O Prince, we hope to find in thee Our help and sole preserver. List, if yet Thou hast not heard his mandate, — the response Returned by Phcebus. Never shall this pest Cease its wide desolation, till we seize, And on th' assassins of the murdered King Avenge his fall by exile or by death. O then refuse not thou, if thou hast aught Of augury or divination sure, To save thyself, thy country, and thy King, And ward this foul pollution of the dead. We trust in thee. Of all our earthly toils The best and noblest is to aid mankind. Ti. 4 Ah ! woe is me ! (for wisdom is but woe, When to be wise avails not. This I knew, But ill remembered, or I ne'er had come. 4 We have, in this scene, a fine and impressive comment on the evil consequences of prying into futurity. Tiresias would gladly exchange this baleful knowledge for the bliss of ignorance. 32 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. (Ed. What may this mean ! and whence this strange dismay? Ti. Dismiss me to my home : this grace conferred, Thou wilt endure thy griefs, I mine, more lightly. (Ed. It were unjust, ungrateful to the state, Which hath sustained thee, to withhold thy counsel. Ti. Thy words are most untimely to thyself. Let me beware, lest I too swerve from caution. Ch. Oh, by the Gods, refuse not what thou canst. In one assenting prayer we all implore thee. Ti. For ye are all unwise. Be well assured, I will not speak, and publish thy despair. (Ed. Dost thou then know and wilt not speak the truth ? Wilt thou betray us, and subvert thy country ? Ti. I would not injure thee, nor wound myself. Why urge me thus ? Nought shalt thou hear from me. (Ed. Basest of villains ! for thou wouldst excite The insensate rock to wrath, wilt thou not speak? Still dost thou seem unpitying and unmoved ? Ti. Thou hast reproved my warmth, yet little know'st What dwells in thine own bosom, though on me Thou heap'st reproach. CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 33 (Ed. And who could calmly hear Such words, so shameful to thine injured country? Ti. Soon will these things appear, though I be silent. (Ed. Doth it not then behove thee to declare What soon shall come to light ? Ti. I'll speak no more. Indulge this lawless passion at thy will. (Ed. Nought will I now suppress, since anger prompts My unreserved speech. I do suspect thee Accomplice of the deed, save that thy hand Struck not the mortal blow ; had sight been thine, I then had charged thee as the only villain ! Ti. Ha! Is it thus? Nay, then, I tell thee, King! Adhere to thine own edict ; from this hour No more hold converse or with these or me. Thou art the sole polluter of our land. (Ed. Art thou so lost to shame, as to indulge A taunt like this. Think'st thou to 'scape unscathed? Ti. I have escaped : the might of truth is mine. (Ed. By whom informed? — not through thy pre- scient art. Ti. By thee ; thy will constrained me thus to speak, Though most reluctant. VOL. i. D 34 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. (Ed. Wliat ? Repeat thy words, That I may learn more clearly. Ti. Knew'st thou not Before, or wouldst thou tempt me to speak on ? (Ed. I have not caught thy purport. Speak again. Ti. I say thou art the murderer whom thou seekest. (Ed. Thou shalt not vent that slander twice un- punished. Ti. Shall I proceed, and fire thy rage to frenzy? (Ed. Speak what thou wilt, it will be said in vain. Ti. Thou dost not know what guilty ties unite thee To those thou deem'st most dear ; thou dost not see The ills that close thee round. (Ed. And dost thou hope Again to triumph in thy vaunt unharmed ? Ti. If there be aught of potency in truth. (Ed. There is, but not for thee. Thou hast it not; Dark in thine eye, in heart and ear yet darker. Ti. Wretched art thou in thus upbraiding me, Whom all, ere long, shall urge with like reproach. (Ed. Nurtured in night alone, thou canst not harm The man who views the living light of heaven. Ti. 'Tis not thy doom to fall by me ; for this Phcebus is mighty, who will work the whole. (EDIPUS TYUANNUS. 35 (Ed. Didst thou, or Creon, frame these sage in- ventions ? Ti. Not Creon wrongs thee, thou dost wrong thyself. (Ed. O wealth, O empire, and thou nobler art, s Potent o'er all to brighten life with joy, ^yWhat baleful envy on your splendour waits ! Since for these regal honours, which the state Confided to my hand, a boon unsought, Creon, my first and once most faithful friend, By traitorous cunning saps my rightful sway, And hath suborned this dark designing wizard, This scheming specious sorcerer, skilled alone To seek his profit, sightless in his art. When didst thou ever prove a faithful prophet ? Why, when the Monster 6 screamed her mystic charm, s Te^vvi reyjyn;. Literally, the art of arts, ars ceteris artibus prcBstans. What are we to understand by this ? The word is conjectured in this passage to denote generally wisdom, and, in particular, that wisdom, or subtlety, which OEdipus had evinced in resolving the enigma of the Sphynx. 6 PAYftAOE KYON. The Greeks applied the term KYON to several of their mythological monsters, particularly the Furies, who are called by Orestes, in the Choephori of JEschylus, /KijTpos eyxoroi xvve<; ; so our own Shakspeare, f< Cry havoc ! and let slip the dogs of war." D 2 36 CEDIPUS TYRANNTTS. Didst thou not break it to redeem thy country ? To solve th' enigma was no chance emprize, Well might such task demand the prophet's aid ! Yet nought from divination couldst thou learn ; Nought did the Gods inform thee : then I came, This inexperienced (Edipus, and, led By reason, not by auguries, quelled the foe; — "Whom now thou seek'st to banish, deeming thus To stand in state usurped near Creon's throne ; But thou, with him who shared thy base designs, Shalt feel our righteous vengeance. Save that age Some reverence claims, now would I teach thee wisdom. Ch. If we conjecture right, the prophet spake In vehement wrath; thus too, King, thou spakest. Such ill beseems our state : 'twere best to seek How we may trace the pleasure of the God. Ti. Though thou art monarch, yet with like reproach Thy slanders will I quit, for this I can ; To thee I am no vassal, but to Phoebus ; Nor will I look to Creon as my patron. Know, since my blindness wakes thy keen reproach, Clear-sighted as thou art, thou dost not see What ills enclose thee — where thou hast thy home — CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 37 With whom that home is shared. Art thou apprized Who gave thee birth ? Thou art th' unconscious foe Of thine own race on earth, and in the tomb. Soon shall thy father's, soon thy mother's curse, With fearful stride expel thee from the land ; Now blest with sight, — then, plunged in endless gloom. Ere long what shore shall not attest thy cries ? How will they echo from Cithaeron's 7 brow, When thou shalt learn that marriage, where impelled, As with propitious gales, in evil port Thy heedless bark hath anchored. Seest thou not A gathering storm of miseries, doomed ere long To burst alike on thee and on thy children ? Vent now on Creon and my prescient word Thy keen upbraidings. None of mortal race 7 This, observes Brumoy, is an allusion to the past, which could not be preserved in the translation. Why not ? The ignorance of CEdipus does not affect the validity of the pro- phet's denunciation. The obscurity of Tiresias has been objected to; but obscurity is the necessary and appropriate language of prophecy ; its clearest and most satisfactory ex- planation is the event. Ai^yiv, properly, portus, a haven, a strand, should here be used in the sense of ayop«, as Mount Cithaeron was situated inland, between Phocis and Bceotia. 38 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. Hath ever fallen so low as thou shalt fall. (Ed. Must I then brook such shameless taunts from thee ? A curse light on thee, babbler ! to thy home Away, and rid us of thy hateful presence. Ti. But for thy summons, I had never come. (Ed. I little deemed that thou wouldst prate so weakly, Or never had I sought thy presence here. Ti. Though to thy better wisdom void of sense We seem, thy parents once esteemed us wise. (Ed. Who are they ? Stop, and tell who gave me birth. Ti. This day will show thy birth, and seal thy ruin. (Ed. How wild, and how mysterious are thy words ! Ti. Art thou not skilled f unriddle this enigma ? (Ed. Reproach the path that led me up to greatness. Ti. That very path hath led thee to perdition. (Ed. I reck not that, so I preserved the state. Ti. Then I depart. Thou, boy, conduct me hence. (Ed. Aye, let him lead thee. Thou dost mar our counsels ; When absent, thou wilt trouble us no more. Ti. I go ; but first will do mine errand here, By thy stem looks unawed. Thou canst not harm me. (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 39 I tell thee, King, the man whom thou hast sought With fearful menaces, denouncing death On Laius' murderer, that man is here. In word he seems an alien, yet shall prove By birth a Theban, nor in this disclosure Shall long exult. From sight reduced to blindness, To penury from wealth, he shall go forth To foreign climes by a frail staff directed Then to his children shall be proved at once A brother and a father ; and to her Who gave him birth a husband and a son, Corrival 8 of the father whom he slew. Seek now thy palace, and reflect on this ; And, if thou find my bodings unfulfilled, Deem me untutored in prophetic lore. [Exeunt Tiresias and (Edipus. O/Aoo-TTopo?, if taken in a passive sense, signifies " bora of the same mother," and is synonymous with o/*«»/*os ; if used actively, it denotes a man who has children by the same woman who had children by another person referred to. The present translator, in common with his predecessors, feels and acknowledges his inability to convey the idea adequately in English. The word corrival, used by Shakspeare, can hardly be said to afford even a distant resemblance to the original. 40 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. Chorus. STROPHE I. Whom did the fate-unfolding word From Delphi's rock-hewn shrine proclaim, The wretch who wrought with ruthless sword The deed we dare not name ? Now let him seek, in frantic speed, To emulate the foaming steed ; The Son of Jove, arrayed in arms of light, With vengeful flames is gaining on his flight, And still the Fates, resistless in their wrath, Track the base murderer's path. ANTISTROPHE I. Bright the prophetic word hath shone From hoar Parnassus' snow-crowned brow, To trace the guilty wretch, unknown, And hid in darkness now. Aye, let him range the lonely wood, Lurk, like the bull, in cavern rude, Or with tired steps a weary wanderer roam — Ne'er can he shun the presage of his doom CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 41 From Delphi's shrine 9 denounced, — where'er he fly, The Living Curse is nigh. STROPHE II. Dire were the bodings of the seer ; And doubt and dread distract my breast, Nor all he told, nor all suppressed. I yield in turn to hope and fear, And trace the present and the past 5 Each with impervious gloom o'ercast No mortal feud arose Between our monarch and the royal line Of Thebes ■ nor now, nor then can I divine The Kings were ever foes. 10 How should I then adopt the Seer's decree 9 Delphi's shrine. In the original t« ptaopQa.'Ka, y»%, lite- rally, umbilicum terrae, the centre of the earth, in which the ancients supposed Delphi to be situated ; so line 889, ya.% iir opQxXov, " the central shrine." 10 Musgrave proposes to read in this passage Iwixxpov for tTTtxsgo?, thereby referring the word to CEdipus. But there does not appear any ground for rejecting the version of JBrunck, who has, " unde conjecturam faciens explorem, an propter vatis evulgatum responsum, contra (Edipodem Lab- dacidis auxilium laturus sim, ultionemque caedis obscurje suscepturus." 42 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. To aid the house of Laius, and on thee, (Edipus, avenge this deed of mystery? ANTISTROPHE II. Though Jove and Phoebus still are wise, And still to them mankind are known, Yet that the prophet views alone Things unrevealed to mortal eyes — 1 cannot judge : in wisdom's lore Beyond his fellow man may soar ; But ne'er, till in my sight His truth be proved, on those who slight his word By me can censure or reproach be poured. When, with destroying flight, To (Edipus the fell Enchantress came, His sage response redeemed my country's shame, Then let my grateful heart such hideous charge disclaim. Enter Creon. CREON. CHORUS. Cr. O citizens, of that atrocious crime CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 43 With which the King doth charge me, late apprized, Such charge I cannot brook. If, in the hour Of general suffering, he suspect that I Have sought to wrong him, or in word or act, E'en life itself were valueless to me, Thus coupled with dishonour ; for this charge Involves no trivial detriment, but seems Of gravest import, were I deemed by thee And by my friends a traitor to my country. Ch. Nay, but from vehemence of wrath this charge Burst rashly forth, not cool deliberate thought. Cr. Whence could it seem, that, by our wiles suborned, The prophet framed these falsehoods? Ch. So, indeed, The King affirmed ; but on what grounds, I know not. Cr. With mind unwarped, and unperverted eye, Did he thus charge me ? Ch. Sooth I cannot tell; I do not scrutinize the acts of princes. But lo ! himself approaches from the palace. Enter (Edipus. 44 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. CEDIPUS. CREON. CHORUS. (Ed. Ha ! wherefore cam'st thou hither ? Is thy brow So armed with bold presumption, that thou dar'st Still tread our courts, a false convicted traitor, Convicted in thy scheme to shed our blood, And steal into a throne ? Say, by the Gods, What folly, what supineness, hast thou marked In me, to form an enterprise like this ? Or didst thou think I had no eye to trace Thy wiles — when traced, no firmness to revenge them? Doth not thy rash attempt proclaim thee senseless, Without or friends or forces, to affect The throne, by armies and by wealth attained 1 Cr. Know'st thou what thou wouldst do ? To our reply Grant first impartial audience ; learn, then judge. (Ed. Aye, thou art mighty in the strife of words ; But I am slow to learn of one like thee, Whom I have proved rebellious and perverse. Cr. First do thou hear what I would fain reply. (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 45 (Ed. So thou reply not thus, " I am no villain." Cr. If thou dost deem this self-willed senseless pride Will aught avail thee, thou art most unwise. (Ed. And if thou deem'st to work thy kinsman wrong, And 'scape unpunished, thou art most unwise. Cr. Thy words have show of justice; but explain Wherein I thus have wronged thee. (Ed. Didst thou then, Or didst thou not, persuade me here to summon This holy and most venerable prophet ? Cr. I did, and still my counsel is the same. (Ed. How long a space hath now elapsed since Laius — Cr. What act performed ? I cannot see thy drift. (Ed. Fell thus obscurely by a ruffian hand ? Cr. We must retrace a length of years obscure. (Ed. Did this sage prophet then profess his art ? Cr. Unmatched, as now, in wisdom, and esteemed With equal reverence. (Ed. Did he, at that time, Make mention of my name? Cr. Never; at least, Not in my presence. 46 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. (Ed. x Did ye not enforce Strict inquisition for your murdered Lord ? Cr. How could we pass it by ? Our search was vain. (Ed. Why spake not then this sage diviner thus ? Cr. I know not, and strict silence would preserve On points unknown. (Ed. One point, at least, thou know'st ; And, if true wisdom guide thee, wilt disclose it. Cr. Name it ! I will not aught I know deny. (Ed. Were not the prophet basely leagued with thee, He had not charged me with the death of Laius. Cr. If thus he speaks, thou know'st. I claim in turn To ask of thee as thou hast asked of me. (Ed. Ask what thou wilt, I never shall be proved A base assassin. Cr. Is my sister thine, Thine by the nuptial tie ? 1 This passage furnishes another refutation of the objec- tion noticed above. It had never even entered into the mind of (Edipus, that the inquiry into the death of Laius could possibly be neglected ; hence his ardour in the investigation, otherwise inexplicable, is satisfactorily accounted for. (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 47 (Ed. To such a question I cannot give denial. Cr. Dost thou not Divide with her the empire of the land ? (Ed. Tis my chief pride to grant her every wish. Cr. Do not I hold an equal rank with both 1 (Ed. Thence dost thou seem indeed a faithless friend. Cr. Not if thou weigh my words, as I weighed thine, With cool and temperate judgment. First reflect, Who would prefer the terrors of a throne ./To fearless sleep, with equal power combined ? Nor I, nor any whom true wisdom guides, Would seek the empty pageant of a crown, Before the real potency of Kings. Now, void of fears, I gain my wish from thee ; Were I a King, full oft must I renounce it. How, then, could empire be to me more dear Than this serene, yet not less potent sway ? I am not thus by flattering hope beguiled, -To quit substantial good for empty honour. All now is pleasure ; all men court me now ; They who desire thy favour seek my aid To advocate their cause ; through me they gain 48 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. The boon solicited. And should I then Renounce such pleasures for the pomp of empire ? So wild a scheme the prudent soul discards. Such plots I never loved, and would disdain To mingle with the guilty band who frame them. If thou dost seek a proof, to Delphi send, Ask if aright the oracle I brought thee. Shouldst thou detect me leaguing with the Seer To work thee wrong, be instant death my meed, Twice doomed, — by thy decree, and by mine own ; But tax me not with guilt on vague suspicion. To deem the good unworthy, or account Alike the base and noble, is unjust. The man who drives an upright friend to exile, Doth wound himself no less, than if he struck At his own valued life. Of this, in time, Shalt thou be well convinced ; \long space it asks To prove the stainless honour of the just, One day suffices to detect a traitor. Ch. Well hath he said, King, to one forewarned Of falling ; quick resolves are rarely safe. (Ed. When one is quick to frame insidious plots, I too have need of quickness to repel him. If I remain inactive, he will gain His traitorous end, while my slow cares avail not. CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 49 Cr. What is thy will ?— To force me into exile ? (Ed. Nay, exile shall not be thy doom, but death. Cr. When thou hast proved what merits such a sentence. (Ed. Speak'st thou as one who meditates resistance ? Cr. I see thee swerve from wisdom, (Ed. Not unwise In mine own cause. Cr. Nor shouldst thou be in mine. (Ed. Thou art a villain. Cr. If thou know'st no crime ? — ?'f Ao|i». ®vyu,~7if does not here denote filia, a CEDIPUS TYRAXXUS. 77 Pan who roams the sylvan height ; — Or to Phcebus, Lord of Light, For the young God delighted roves O'er green hills crowned with shadowy groves. Did the King, Cyllene swaying, Did gay Bacchus ever straying Woods and lofty crags among, With the maids of sweetest song,-^ Greet thee, his illustrious son, From some fair nymph of Helicon ? Re-enter GSdipus, Corinthian. CEDIPUS, CORINTHIAN, CHORUS. (Ed. If aught I may conjecture, friends, of one With whom I ne'er held converse, I behold Th' expected herdsman : for his lengthened years Accord ; and those who lead him, I discern, For mine own menial train. But haply thou, To whom familiar erst his face hath been. Canst speak with more assurance. daughter, but simply a maiden — " puella." So khoyjH, simply mn Her es. 78 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. Ch. Yea, I know him — The herdsman he of Laius, in his charge Proved to his Lord most faithful. (Ed. First, I ask Of thee, Corinthian— is this man the same Whom thou didst now describe ? Co. This is the man. Enter Herdsman. (EDIPUS, CORINTHIAN, HERDSMAN, CHORUS. (Ed. Approach, old man ! look on me, and reply- To my demand. Wert thou the slave of Laius? Herd. I was his slave — bred in his house — not purchased. (Ed. What office didst thou hold ? what task dis- charge ? Herd. My better part of life was passed in tending The monarch's flocks. (Ed. What regions wert thou then Wont to frequent ? Herd. Cithaeron, and the meads Adjacent. CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 79 CEd. Dost thou e'er remember there To have beheld this man ? Herd. What task performing — Which man dost thou intend ? CEd. I mean this man Here present ; hadst thou converse with him there ? Herd. Not such, that I can instantly retrace it. Co. No marvel this, O King ! But I will soon Revive events forgotten, for I know He cannot but recal what time he fed Two flocks, I one, in green Cithseron's vales. 6 Three months we thus consorted, from the Spring Till cold Arcturus brings the wintry blast. To mine own stalls I then drove back my herds, He to the stalls of Laius led his charge. Say, are my words unwarranted by fact ? Herd. Thy tale is true, though told of times long Co. Then answer. Dost thou recollect the babe 6 Three months, &c. Yet from Spring to the rising of Arc- turus, which occurs, according to Pliny, eleven days before the autumnal equinox, there is an interval of six months. Can we reconcile this by supposing Iuja^vik; y$'ovx<; to mean seasons ? SO CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. Thou gav'st me there, as mine own child to cherish ? Herd. What wouldst thou? Whither do thy questions tend ? Co. This is that child, my friend, who stands before thee. Herd. A curse light on thee ! wilt thou not be silent ? (Ed. Reprove him not, old man, for thine own words, Far more than his, demand a stern reprover. Herd. In what do I offend thee, my good Lord ? (Ed. In that thou speak'st not plainly of the child Of whom he asks thee. Herd. But he speaks in darkness, Mere empty babbling. (Ed. If thou wilt not answer To mild persuasion, force shall soon compel thee. Herd. Oh ! for the love of Heaven, respect mine age. (Ed. Will ye not seize and instant bind his hands ? Herd. Alas ! what is my crime ? what wouldst thou learn ? (Ed. Didst thou commit to him the child he spake of? Herd. I did : — O, had that moment been my last ! 1EDIPUS TYRANNLS. 81 (Ed. This shall be, if thou wilt not speak the truth. Herd. And if I speak it, I am trebly lost. (Ed. This man, it seems, still struggles to elude us. Herd. No, I confessed long since I gave the child. (Ed. And whence received ? thine own, or from another ? Herd. No, not mine own ; I from another's hand Bare him. (Ed. And from what Theban, from what roof? Herd. O, by the Gods ! my Lord, inquire no further. (Ed. If I repeat th' inquiry, thou art lost. Herd. The palace of King Laius gave him birth. (Ed. Sprung from a slave, or of the royal stock ? Herd. Ah ! how I shrink to breathe the fatal truth. (Ed. And I to hear it ; yet it must be heard. Herd. The child was called the son of Laius ; here Thy royal consort can inform thee better. (Ed. Didst thou from her receive him ? Herd. Yea, O King! (Ed. And for what purpose? Herd. That I might destroy him. (Ed. What — the unnatural mother ? Herd. She was awed By woe-denouncing oracles. VOL. I. g 82 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. (Ed. What woe? Herd. That he should prove the murderer of his parents. (Ed, Why, then, to this old man thy charge consign ? Herd. From pity, O my Lord. I deemed that he To his own land would bear the child afar. He saved him to despair. If thou art he Of whom he spake, how dark a doom is thine ! (Ed. Woe ! woe ! 'tis all too fatally unveiled. Thou Light ! O may I now behold thy beams For the last time ! Unhallowed was my birth, In closest ties united, where such ties Were most unnatural; — with that blood denied, From whose pollution most the heart recoils. Exit (Ed i pus. L- Chorus. STROPHE I. Sad generations of mankind, How oft your fleeting date I deem Of vanity and woe combined ! For what is transport but a dream lEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 83 That seems awhile to beam and bless, Then wanes away to wretchedness ? Thy fortunes, my unhappy lord, Thy woes the mournful proof afford ; And henceforth never shall my breast Deem mortal blest. ANTISTROPHE I. Raised by strong hand and daring aim, Sublime to glory's proudest height, Who erst — 'Eternal Jove!— o'ercame The harpy-taloned Maid of night Chaunting dark strains — and stood the tower Of Thebes in death's impending hour ; — For this, O King, thy wisdom's meed, My country's crown adorns thy head ; For this her stately towers obey Thy regal sway. STROPHE II. But now thy tale I hear, Ah ! who so deeply sunk as thou ? What horrors are thy portion now, What hopeless toil severe ? Alas for thee ! O King renowned ! & 2 84 IEDIPUS TYRANNUS. "To one dark couch the son and sire Alike the nuptial union bound ; — How could that couch, in silence so profound, Bear such pollution dire ? ANTISTROPHE II. Time with all-searching eye Dragged thee reluctant into light, And doth on son and sire requite This foul unnatural tie. had it neer been mine to see The son of Laius ! — o'er thy doom 1 pour the plaints of sympathy. By thee, O Prince ! I rose to life; — by thee Have closed mine eyes in gloom ! Enter Messenger. MESSENGER, CHORUS. Mess. O chiefs, most honoured of my native land, 1 In the original, " Cui unus et idem suffecit portus, quo filius et pater et sponsus exciperentur." — Brunck. It is trusted, that the classical reader will excuse the absence of a literal translation in this passage, as he will readily appreciate the motives which occasioned its omission. (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 85 What horrors will ye hear, what woes behold, What pitying anguish suffer, if indeed Ye still revere the house of Labdacus. 2 Did Phasis blend with Ister's mighty flood, Both could not wash the deadly taint away Of those dark deeds, which, latent in yon towers, Soon shall burst forth to day's abhorrent light, Spontaneous, unconstrained. Ills self-imposed With keener anguish wound the bleeding heart. Ch. There wanted nought to aggravate the woes We knew already. What remains to tell ? Mess. What may be quickly told, and learnt as soon. Hear, first, — the loved Jocasta is no more. Ch. Ill-fated Queen ! what, caused her hapless doom? Mess. She was herself the cause. Of these dark deeds The worst is latent, since no eye beheld Crimes were imagined by the ancients to be expiated by river or sea water. So JEneas, in Virgil : Me bello e tanto digressuoi et caede recenti Attrectare net'as, donee me flumine vivo Abluero. 86 IEDIPUS TYRANNUS. Its horrors ; yet the tenour of her woes, As memory can retrace them, thou shalt hear. When, frantic with despair, she wildly rushed Within the portal, to the nuptial couch, Rending her hair with ruthless hands, she fled ; Then, entering, closely barred the doors within, And on the long-departed Laius calls, Making sad mention of that earlier son By whom her Lord should perish, leaving her To her own child to bear a lawless race ;— Then o'er that couch bewailed, where she brought forth A husband from a husband, sons from sons ; And then and there, I know not how, she perished. For with wild clamours (Edipus rushed in, Nor longer thought we of the hapless Queen ; For every eye on him was riveted. On, on he hurried, raving for a sword, Raving for her, his wife, — yet not his wife, The mother of his children, and himself. Infuriate thus, some demon urged him On, We, who were present, spake not. With deep groans Led by that viewless guide, he madly rushed Against the two-fold portals, and beat down The massive bolts, and burst into the chamber. CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 87 Suspended there his wretched wife we saw, Wreathed in the twisted cord. Soon as he marked Th' appalling sight, with agonizing groans He loosed the strangling noose ; but when on earth Her breathless corpse was laid, — oh, then ensued A hideous scene of horror. From her robe Tearing the golden clasps that bound her zone, Deep in his eyes the piercing point he plunged, Exclaiming thus, — that never, nevermore, Her should they see, the sufferings he endured, Or the dire deeds he wrought,— that, henceforth quenched In outer darkness, ne'er should they behold Those whom to see beseemed him now no more ; — Nor know the forms he most desired to know. Thus, imprecating curses on his head, Again, again, and yet again, he struck, Raising his eye-lids, till the bleeding balls His cheek empurpled, nor in scanty flood Gushed the quick drops, but from his brow poured down A shower of tears and crimson gore combined. Such storms of fate have burst alike on both — The wife, the husband, in one ruin whelmed — Their former state, which heretofore we deemed, 88 CEDI'PUS TYRANNUS. And justly too, most blessed ; — on this day Is changed to wailing, horror, death, and worse Than death, dishonour. Misery hath no name For aught that blends not in his cup of sorrow. Ch. Is there no pause of respite from his pangs ? Mess. He calls aloud, with clamours wild and shrill, T' unbar the portals, and to all the Thebans, Expose the guilty murderer of his father, His mother's Oh, I cannot, dare not breathe His heart-appalling words : he bids them drive him Far, far from Thebes, nor refuge still afford To him, th' accursed, by himself condemned. Yet ah, a guide and added strength he needs ; His agony is more than he can bear. Soon wilt thou see him. Lo ! the close-barred gates Are bursting now asunder. Thou wilt soon Behold a sight, that well might wake relenting E'en in the bosom of remorseless hate. Enter (Edipus. OZDIPUS, CHORUS. Ch. O sight of grief to human eye — (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 89 The most appalling far of all On which I e"er have gazed. — Ill-fated King ! What frenzy seized thee — what indignant God Hath heaped this sad extremity of woe On thy devoted head ? — Alas, alas, unhappy ! But mine eye Recoils to meet thee, though of much I pant To ask, and much to hear and to behold, Such dread thy pangs inspire. — (Ed. Woe ! woe ! unutterable woe ! I am indeed most wretched. Where, oh where Is the lost wanderer borne, and whence that voice That breaks upon mine ear? — Where, Fortune, hast thou plunged me now? — Ch. In horrors, from which eye and ear recoil. STROPHE I. (Ed. O thou dense cloud Of black and baleful darkness, deepening round, Boundless, eternal, and by hope uncheered ! Oh wretch, wretch, wretch ! How piercing is the sting Of frenzy, and the memory of the past ! Ch. No marvel if, in agonies like thine, Redoubled ills inflict a double wound. 90 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. ANTISTROPHE I. (Ed. What ! thou, my friend, Thou only firm and faithful, who art still Regardful of the blind ? — O misery ! Though all is dark around me, still I hear, I know thy friendly accents through my darkness. Ch. G wildly-daring, how couldst thou endure To mangle thus thine eyes, — what God impelled thee? STROPHE II. (Ed. 'Twas Phoebus, Phcebus, O my friends, alone Who wrought my doom of woe, My hopeless agony ;— But this dark deed no hand, save mine, hath dared. 1 Yet what were sight to me, For whom all Nature wears One hue of blackness? Ch. Alas ! I can but own thy Words most true. STROPHE III. (Ed. What now remains to court 3 Shuddering I shrunk from Nature's face, Where every hue that charmed before, The blackness of my bosom wore. — Byron. (ED IPUS TYRANNUS. 91 My gaze, or wake my love, Henceforth what voice shall gladden my dull ear 1 Drive me to instant exile from your land, Drive me, friends ! this widely-blasting pest, This most accursed of men, And trebly hateful to the Powers above ! Ch. Wretched alike in soul as in thy doom! Would to the Gods that I had never known thee ! ANTISTROPHE II. (Ed. Perdition seize the wretch, in the wild wood, Who first my feet unbound, And from impending fate Released and rescued me, — unwelcome care ! O had I perished then, Nor brought this ruin on myself, — my kindred ! Ch. Fain must I breathe an echo to thy prayer. ANTISTROPHE III. (Ed. I had not then been doomed The murderer of my sire, Nor by mankind for lawless nuptials scorned — Now I am most defiled — the child of guilt — The sire of sons to her who calls we son. Whate er of heavier woe, 92 1ED1PUS TFRANNUS. In woe exists, that (Edipus must bear. Ch. I know not how thy counsel to commend ; — Better to die at once than pine in darkness. (Ed. If void of wisdom I have done this deed, Spare now reproof and counsel ; both are vain. Descending to the dead, I know not how I could have borne to gaze upon my sire, Or my unhappy mother ; for to them Crimes dark as mine, not death can e'er atone. And could the sight of my fair budding offspring, Springing from whence they sprung, be sweet to me? Oh never with these eyes ! I could not gaze On this fair city, these imperial towers, Or e'en the hallowed temples of the Gods, Of which, though once the noblest in our Thebes, My own stern sentence hath for ever reft me ! Myself enjoining all to spurn afar The wretch, proclaimed accursed by the Gods, And sprung from Laius' stock. When I disclosed Mine own dishonour, could I still behold These with bold front and firm undrooping eye ? Oh never, never ! Could I e'en obstruct The avenues of sound, I would not cease To rend this wretched body, till with sight The power of hearing tied ; 'tis some relief tEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 93 To lose the bitter sense of agony. Oh why, Cithseron, didst thou yield me refuge, Nor grant me swift destruction, that to men I ne'er had shown the secret of my birth ? Oh Polybus, oh Corinth, and the home Once fondly deemed my father's, what a form Of specious glory but of latent ills In me ye cherished, who am now revealed The guilty child of parents not less guilty ! Ye triple ways, thou lone secluded dell, Thou grove, and dark recess in that trine path, Which from my hand imbibed a father's blood, Ah do ye still remember the foul deeds I wrought in your deep shade ? then, here arriving, What added guilt incurred ? Thou fatal marriage, Alas, most fatal, whence I drew my birth, Whence sprung again a vile promiscuous brood, Exposed to light, of fathers, brothers, sons ; — Whence too of kindred blood came sisters, wives, And mothers — all that man accounts most guilty ! Yet, since to speak is evil, where to act Was most unseemly, hide me, by the Gods, Far from this land, or doom my instant death, Or cast me to the deep — I reck not where — So I may never blast your sight again. 94 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. Come, nor disdain to touch a hapless wretch ;— Comply, and fear not : these unequalled woes I, I alone, of all mankind, must bear. Ch. He comes, to whom thy prayers were best preferred, Creon— to counsel and to act are his, Who now is left sole monarch of the land. (Ed. Ah me ! and in what words shall I accost him ? How can he yield due credence to my prayer, Who hath himself already proved me worthless 1 Enter Creon. CREON, GEDIPUS, CHORUS. Cr. I come not to insult thee, (Edipus, Or add recrimination to thy sorrows. But you, if nought of reverence ye retain For those of mortal birth, at least respect The all-sustaining flame of yon fair sun, Nor drag the dire pollution into light, Which nor the earth, nor heaven-descending rain, Nor day's broad light can evermore endure. Haste, and immure him instantly within, 1EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 95 For decency demands that kindred ears Alone should listen to a kinsman's woes. (Ed. Now by the Gods, since thou hast passed my hopes, And, best thyself of men, dost freely come To me the most abandoned, grant one boon — Not for myself, but thee, I ask. — C?\ What boon Would'st thou of me so fervently implore? (Ed. Drive me from Thebes afar, where never more May I e'er hold communion with mankind. Cr. This had I done, be well assured, but first 'Tis meet to ask the pleasure of the God. (Ed. That pleasure hath already been declared ; He dooms the impious parricide to death. Or. Thus hath he willed; yet in so dark a crisis Tis better far again to ask his pleasure. (Ed. Wilt thou consult him for a wretch like me? Or. Thy fall hath taught us to revere his truth. (Ed. I charge and will adjure thee to entomb With decent rites the dead who lies within — Such office best beseems thy kindred blood. Nor longer let my native city deign To grant me refuge in her friendly walls ; 96 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. But drive me hence, to dwell on that wild mount, My own Cithaeron called, which erst my parents, While yet I lived, designed my sepulchre ;— As they my death ordained, so let me die. Too well I know, nor blight of keen disease, Nor other ill could slay me. I was snatched From death, to dare this more than deadly deed. But as our fate began, so let us on. — As for my children — for my sons, O Creon, Take no solicitude — for they are men — Where'er they roam, they cannot feel the pangs Of piercing penury. — But, O ! my daughters ! — My much loved daughters ! — in the weak estate Of virgin helplessness — who never dwelt Apart from their loved father, and with whom I ever shared my pomp — my joy — my all, — Be these thy constant care, and grant me now To clasp them, and bewail our common woes. Assent, O King ! — generous Monarch, while my hand may touch them, 1 seem to hold, as though I saw them still. What do I say ? — Ye Gods ! my much loved children do I hear, Wailing our woes? — hath pitying Creon sent The dearest pledges of my love to bless me? iEDlPUS TYRANNUS. 97 Are my words true ? Or. They are. My care provided this delight, Assured of old what joy their presence gave thee. (Ed. be thou blest for this, and mayst thou find The God a better guard than I have found him. Where are ye, my sweet children? Come, O come, To mine embrace, as to a brother's hands, Which yet have quenched a father's eyes in darkness. Your father, my poor children, (though unseen, Unknown the deed,) by her who gave me life. O'er you I weep — though never more, alas ! Can I behold you, — yet I know too well That ye must linger on through life in sorrow, While bitterest anguish waits you with mankind. To what assembled crowds will ye resort, What festive scenes, from which with downcast looks Ye will not steal dejected to your home, Youselves more wept than that ideal woe? And when in Beauty's vernal pride ye bloom, Ah who, my daughters, who in nuptial tie Will lead you to his house, nor heed the stain Fixed on my wretched parents, and on yours ? What taint is wanting? First, your father slew His father; then, in guilty wedlock linked To his own mother, gave you birth, my children, vol. i, H 98 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. From the same source whence his own life he drew. Thus will ye be reproached. Who then will wed you? None, none, my daughters — ye must pine, alas ! Deserted, and with nuptial rites unblessed. Son of Menoeceus, since thou now art left Sole parent to these orphans, (we, who once Bore that beloved name, in ruin whelmed,) Ah leave them not, for they are still thy kindred, To roam in friendless penury, unwedded ; — Let not their misery equal their lost father's. Ah pity them, so young, so innocent, By every friend deserted, save by thee. Assent, most noble Monarch, pledge thy hand. And ye, my children, were your age mature To heed instruction, much would I exhort you. — Now would I breathe alone this parting prayer, Where'er your destined home, may Heaven assign A happier lot than your most wretched father's. TROCHAICS. Cr. Hold, for where doth grief transport thee? to the palace now retreat. (Ed. I obey, though most reluctant. Cr. All is well in season meet. (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 99 (Ed. Knowst thou now my wish? Cr. Unfold it — I due audience will accord. (Ed. Drive me from this land to exile. Cr. To the God this prayer be poured. (Ed. To the Gods I am most hateful. Cr. Thence thy wish thou soon shalt gain. (Ed. Meanst thou thus? Cr. The word I mean not, but to speak I would disdain. (Ed. Lead me hence without delaying. Cr. Go — but leave thy children still. (Ed. Do not, do not tear them from me. Cr. Aim not to achieve thy will, What before thou didst accomplish, failed to bless thy waning day. Ch. Sons of Thebes, my native city, this great CEdipus survey, Who resolved the famed enigma, who for virtue far renowned, Nought of favour recked or fortune, with transcen- dant glory crowned. Mark him now, dismayed, degraded, tost on waves of wildest woes ; — Think on this, short-sighted mortal, and till life's deciding close, h 2 100 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. Dare not to pronounce thy fellow truly happy, truly blest, Till the bounds of life passed over, yet unharmed, he sinks to rest. (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. That sublime sentiment of Sophocles, respecting " Laws," which occurs in the preceding tragedy, Msya? ev TtsTon; 0eo?, a^e yygatrxei, " The Divinity is mighty within them, and waxes not old," may be applied, with the strictest propriety, to his own admirable genius, as displayed in the plan and execution of the drama now under considera- tion. The " CEdipus at Colonos" is indeed a phenomenon without rival or parallel in the records of literature. Though composed, if we admit the testimony of Cicero and Valerius Maximus, after the poet had completed his ninetieth year ; — at an 104 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. age, when, in ordinary instances, as the corporeal powers of man become only " labour and sorrow,' r so his mental energies are merged in imbecility and forgetfulness ; this tragedy is inferior to none of our author's productions in animation and interest, while for unaffected pathos and impressive morality it is superior to all. It constitutes a most satisfac- tory and appropriate sequel to the " GEdipus Tyrannus," inasmuch as it supplies that moral effect, in which its precursor is unquestionably deficient. To behold an individual, like (Edipus, suffering on account of crimes into which he had been un- consciously betrayed by the very means which he had taken to avoid them, is a painful, if not an unnatural spectacle ; and we derive little or no in- struction from the calamities of one, who is pu- nished rather from the caprice of the Gods, than for actual and deliberate transgression. But when we contemplate the same individual, as in the suc- ceeding drama, enduring with patient resignation the unmerited anger of the Deities, and looking only to a future state of existence for deliverance and repose, we are admonished in the most for- cible manner, that, as it is the first duty of man to avoid the perpetration of crime, so the most accep- CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 105 table expiation of guilt, is a meek and unrepining submission to its penalty. It may also be added, that if, according to the trite proverb, example be the most impressive and useful mode of instruction, then is this drama more than commonly instructive. For the charac- ters which it delineates are of universal occur- rence. If there are few monarchs, on whom it can devolve to imitate the dignified magnanimity of Theseus, there are many sufferers, who may prac- tise the resignation of GEdipus, and many daugh- ters, who may emulate the piety of Antigone. In reference to the last-mentioned character, indeed, we may unhesitatingly affirm, that in no one unin- spired composition is there presented a more natu- ral and affecting delineation of filial virtue, than is here depicted in the daughter of (Edipus. But though the softer emotions — love, and ten- derness, and pity — are the predominant charac- teristics of this tragedy, the poet, in his manage- ment of the catastrophe, has soared to the loftiest elevation of grandeur and sublimity. As the life of GEdipus had been extraordinary and eventful, 106 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. so was his death to be awful and mysterious. He had not lived, neither could he die, like an ordi- nary mortal. He bore a " charmed life ;" a life exempted, as it were, from the common assaults of mortality, and only to be terminated by some signal and unprecedented interposition of Divinity. Such is indeed the " dignus vindice nodus," which sanctions supernatural interference. Accordingly, the earth convulsed and trembling, the appalling and incessant thunder, the glare of lightning, and the howling of the storm, the solemn inter- vals of silence, in which the voice of some in- visible messenger is heard to murmur from beneath a summons to the devoted monarch, the conster- nation even of the resolute and intrepid Theseus, all these tend to produce a scene, which, for lof- tiness of conception and magnificence of execu- tion, is not excelled by any relic of the Grecian drama, even in the compositions of the wild and terrific iEschylus. This drama is also peculiarly valuable, on ac- count of the light which it throws upon the reli- gious observances of antiquity, of which the ex- piatory homage of (Edipus in the grove of the Fu- (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 107 ries is a conspicuous instance. Should the English reader consider these descriptions somewhat too te- dious and circumstantial, he may perhaps be con- ciliated by the reflection, that the ancient drama, — how unlike the modern ! — was the popular vehicle of religious as well as moral instruction. He will at least be recompensed for the labour of perusal, if the contemplation of the rigid devotion with which the heathen performed the services of their religion, should furnish him with an additional motive for the more zealous and conscientious fulfilment of the duties of his own. DRAMATIS PERSONS CEdipus Antigone. . Daughters of CEdipus. ISMENE, »NE, -I Theseus, King of Athens. Creon. Polynices, Son of CEdipus. Athenian. Messenger. Chorus of aged Inhabitants of Colonos. OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE. Dear to thee, mother ! and most dear to thee, My brother ! for in death my hand received you, Your relics laved, your lifeless limbs composed, And o'er your tomb libations poured. And now, Dear Polynices, I have honoured thee With funeral rites, and thus do they requite me. Yet will not justice blame my pious care ; Since, had I been a mother or a wife, And my loved child or wedded lord had lain Unsepulchred on earth, not e'en for them Would I have braved the state to do this deed. Ask ye what motive sways me thus to think ? Had but my husband or my child been slain, 7 Haply I might have wed another lord, 7 Our English ladies are entreated to make allowance for a mode of thinking - and reasoning so opposite to their own, A similar principle, according to Herodotus, was acted upon by the wife of Intaphernes, a noble Persian, who, when al- lowed by Darius to save from death whichever of her kindred she preferred, selected her brother, for precisely the same reason as that assigned to Antigone. 266 ANTIGONE. Or joyed in other children ; but the tomb Hath closed above my parents, and from hence A brother could no more be born to me. Since, swayed by thoughts like these, I honoured thee Beyond all other kindred, dearest brother, This Creon counts me guilty and perverse : And now he leads me with remorseless hand, Severed from nuptial joys, and bridal hymns, And wedlock's dearest bliss, a mother's pride, In the fond nurture of a smiling offspring ; But friendless now, deserted, desolate, I seek in life the dwellings of the dead. Which of your laws,ye Powers, have I transgressed ? — Yet wherefore do I turn me to the Gods ? — Whom shall I call to aid me, since I meet For pious deeds the vengeance of the guilty ? If acts like these are sanctioned by the Gods, I will address me to my doom in silence ; If not, and these offend, may Heaven requite On them such evils as they wreak on me. Ch. The same wild storms of frenzied rage Distract th' unhappy maiden still. Or. For this the lingering slaves ere long Shall learn in tears to mourn their vain delay. ANTIGONE. 267 Ant. Alas ! death cannot be dissevered far From that appalling threat. Cr. Aye, I would warn thee not to hope The doom, once sealed, may be reversed. Ant. O Thebes, proud city of my sires ! O tutelary Gods ! They force me hence, and respite is denied. Behold, ye rulers of imperial Thebes, The last sad daughter of a royal line, What fearful wrongs I suffer, and from whom ; — My only crime a pious deed. [Antigone is led off. Exit Creon. Chorus. STROPHE I. Thus, long in brazen cell immured, To change day's genial light for cheerless gloom. To pine enshrouded in a living tomb, Fair Danae erst endured ; — Yet, O my child ! my child ! of lineage high She came, and to immortal Jove Cherished the golden pledge of love ; — But matchless is the might of destiny : 268 ANTIGONE. 8 Nor storm, nor martial might, nor stately tower, Nor wave-repelling fleets escape the tameless Power. ANTISTROPHE I. So Dryas' haughty son was bound, Edonia's Lord, for words of wrathful pride, Chained by th' 9 Avenging Power his taunts defied In rocky cave profound ; — And thus the venom of his maddening breast Still flows afresh. Too late he knew How rage had fired him to pursue A God with keen reproach. His wrath repressed 8 On this passage an ingenious conjectural emendation is proposed by Erfurdt, o*j3o? for o/*0go« ; — a conjecture, as he justly remarks, not only recommended by its accordance with the general sense of the sentence, but by a parallel passage, of exactly similar construction, in Bacchylides. OvaToij a ovk a,v$a.ipiroi w Out'"OABO£, out' axa/A^To? "APH2 Ovrt 7rap.(pQzg?is o-Ta ? evo9sk y int «§i5-e§a. Si mens non laeva fuisset. — Virg. AJAX. 101 Thy fatal frenzy was by Heaven assigned. Phcebus, and Jove avert the dire disgrace ! But if the mighty Kings, to blast thy fame, Suborned the vulgar to these words of shame, Or he of 6 Sisyphus' accursed race, No more, O Monarch, in thy tent delay, With eyes enchained to earth, to foul reports a prey. EPODE. Rise from thy seat, O King, where all too long In lingering anguish thou hast borne the wrong, Feeding the wrathful curse of Heaven ; — Thy fearless foes through every sheltered vale, With vaunting insult speed the slanderous tale ; And all with scoffing tongues on thee Pour foul reproach and injury, While my sad heart with settled grief is riven. Enter Tec mess a. 6 Anticlea, the mother of Ulysses, is said to have been violated by Sisyphus, prior to her union with Laertes. Hence Virgil, iEn. vi. 529. " Hortator scelerum bolides." Sisy- phus was the son of iEolus. 102 A J AX. TECMESSA, CHORUS. Tec. Ye, from the 7 earth-born Erectheidae sprung-, Great Ajax' naval band, Well may we mourn, who from afar regard The house of Telamon ! The brave, the bold, the matchless Ajax lies, Sunk by the turbid storm Of raging frenzy low. Ch. How hath this night to heaviest sorrow changed The fortunes of the day ! Daughter of Phrygian 8 Teuthras, since with thee, 7 Erectheus, son of Pandion, and sixth King of Athens. But, according to others, he is reported to have been the son of Vulcan and the Earth. It is well known, that the Athe- nians piqued themselves on the aritiquity of their descent; hence Creon addresses them, in the (Edip. Col. 728. This is, in the present instance, merely a political stroke to flatter the Athenians. s Teleutas in the text, buf, according to some, Teuthras. AJAX. 103 Though captured by his spear, great Ajax shares The bridal couch of love ; — Speak, for thou know'st, and canst impart the whole. Tec. How shall I breathe what words can never tell? Of evils thou wilt hear more keen than death. Our noble Ajax, by one frantic deed This night is branded with eternal shame. Within yon tent mayst thou behold, Bathed in their blood, the victims of his wrath, The slaughter of his hand ! Ch. What tidings of the fiery warrior these, Nor to be borne nor shunned ; — Already whispered 'mid the mighty chiefs, And which, ere long, will gathering rumours swell ! Alas ! I presage ill ! The hero soon Will fall indignant by the same rash hand Which, armed by madness, slew with vengeful sword The herdsmen and their charge. Tec. Thence, thence, alas ! he came, and drove The herd, like captives, to his tent; Some, stretched on earth, he slew within, Plunged deep the sword in some, and clave in twain. Two rams with snow-white feet he chose ; — the head 104 AJAX. And tongue of one he lopped and cast away ; — ■ The other, to a column bound erect, Seizing his chariot's weighty rein, he lashed As with a double scourge, mocking it still With keen reproach, which none of mortal race, But some ill Power hath taught. Ch. Time is it now for each with veiled head And silent step to fly ; Or mount the bench, and ply the labouring oar, To urge along the ocean-ranging bark. Such threats on us the brother-chiefs denounce ; We too, I fear, crushed by o'erwhelming stones, Shall share, ere long, the fortunes of our Lord, Whom fate, resistless fate, impels. Tec. Impels no more. 9 Swift as the southern blast That rose without red lightning, he rushed forth ; — As soon is calm. Now, cooler sense restored, He feels a fresh affliction ; since to gaze On evils all our own, which none beside Partakes, is keener woe. 9 The Scholiast informs us, that those who are acquainted with the nature of the winds have observed, that when the south rises, not attended with lightning, its violence soon ceases. — Potter. See Theophrastus, De Signis Ventorum. A J AX. 105 Ch. If he be calm, then all may yet be well ; Our cares are less for ills already vanished. Tec. Which, if the choice were thine, wouldst thou prefer ? Wouldst thou, thyself at ease, afflict thy friends, Or share their common grief in common ills ? Ch. The two-fold evil, Lady, is the greater. Tec. Thus we, no more diseased, are suffering now. Ch. What mean thy words ambiguous, for I know not The tenour of thy speech ? Tec. This man, while yet The frenzied plague possessed him, in his ills Exulted ; we, more sane, were plunged in woe. Now, since the respite to his madness came, His bosom rankles with a keener pang, Nor are our sorrows lighter than before. Say, are not these two evils sprung from one ? Ch. Thy words are just. I tremble, lest this woe Be Heaven's own plague. Alas ! how should it not? If, the disease now quelled, he joys no more Than when it still was raging ? 106 AJAX. Tec. Know thou then, Such is his state. Ch. And whence arose these ills ? Inform us, Lady ; for in all his woes We keenly sympathize: Tec. Thou shalt hear all, as partner of the deed. In the deep midnight, when the ,0 evening lamps Glimmered no more, he seized his two-edged sword, And, as I deemed, rushed forth without a cause. I then remonstrate thus : " What wouldst thou do, My Ajax ? why thus issue from thy tent Uncalled — unsummoned or by herald's voice Or by the signal trumpet ? Now, at least, 10 "Eo-tte^oi AaprorijgEs. This has been understood to mean the stars ; but expressions occurring in various authors, Athen. 12, " ad extremas lucernas," Propert. Eleg. Ill, (to which we may add, pereundum est ante lucernas, Juvenal, x. 339,) are in favour of the rendering in the text. "Axgotq wxros, the dead of night. Pindar, Isthm. iv. 58 : 'lart puv A'iavroi; uKy-ocv omoi<, ran 6-^/lcx. Ell l/VXTl TOLjAUV 7T£§J U) <&a.ayMvu, k. t. A. Lobeck. AJAX. 107 The host is hushed in sleep." He but replied, In words abrupt, that for an adage pass, *" Silence, O woman, is a woman's grace." Reproved, I ceased ; my Lord went forth alone. Meantime, nought knew I of the deeds he wrought. At length, the chief returned, driving in bonds The bulls, the shepherd-dogs, and horned prey. z From some, the heads he severed ; some, on earth Laid prostrate, mangled with unsparing sword ; Some, bound in fetters, with the sounding scourge, Falling upon the flocks, as men, he lashed. Last, rushing through the portal, converse there He held, as with some spectre, speaking much Now of th' Atridse, now Laertes' son, Commingling insult keen ; — how, by this deed, Tvvctmi yctp atyti te kcu to aaoma ? lirl ^a.-hnz. This kind of metaphor is of frequent occurrence among the Greek tragedians. iEsch. Prom. 771. 1051. Eurip. Med, 603. Sophocles, Antig. 163. CEdip. Tyr. 23. So Shakspeare : Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And, by opposing, end them. Hamlet, act iii. sc. 1. AJAX. 1 1 1 Ch. Speak words of happier import, nor in woe Seek for o'erwhelming ills a deadlier cure. STROPHE II. Aj. See'st thou the bold, the lion-hearted chief, Who never yet shrunk back from battle's van, Vent his wild rage on herds secure of ill ? — Alas ! what scorn, what mockery shall be mine ! Tec. My Lord ! my Ajax ! speak not thus, I pray thee. Aj. Wilt thou not hence ! wilt thou not hence retire ? O wretch! wretch! wretch! Ch. Now by the Gods, my Lord, Yield to her prayer, and calm thy frenzied soul. STROPHE III. Aj. Unhappy! who, from this right hand, Let slip the hated foes ; And rushing on the sable herds And unoffending flocks, Drew forth inglorious blood. Ch. Why sorrow thus for deeds already done ? It cannot be that thou recall the past. 112 AJAX. ANTISTROPHE II. Aj. O all-exploring and of every ill The wily instrument, Laertes' son ; Thou scorn and scandal of our warlike host ; How wilt thou mock and revel in my woes ! Ch. As Heaven ordains, so man must smile or weep. Aj. O could I meet him, though thus sunk in ills. Unhappy me ! Ch. Nay, do not speak thus proudly ! Dost thou not mark the miseries of thy doom? ANTISTROPHE III. Aj. O Jove ! 4 great father of my sires ! Could I but doom to death, That specious, scheming foe, and crush The sceptre-sharing Kings, How gladly would I die ! Tec. When thou dost pray for death, ask too for me 4 Ilgoyoiw TrgowaTwg. Ajax was the son of Telamon, the son of iEacus, the son of Jove. Thus Ovid, Metam xiii. " Ab Jove tertius Ajax." AJAX. 113 The same: how could I live when thou hadst perished ? STROPHE IV. Aj. O darkness, now my light! O shades of hell, My brightest radiance now, Receive, receive your sad inhabitant; Receive me, from this hour Unworthy or to look On the blest Gods, or on mankind, To aid me in my woes. The daughter of high Jove, The Goddess of unconquerable might, Impels me to the tomb. Ah ! whither can I fly, Or henceforth where abide ? Comrades, my former fame is lost By these last fatal deeds ; My name is sullied by ignoble spoils : And soon the host, in vengeance doubly armed, Shall seek my life. Tec. Alas ! that one so noble should indulge In words, which had but waked his scorn before. ANTISTROPHE IV. Aj. Ye ocean-seeking streams, and sea-girt caves ; VOL. II. I 114 A3AX. Thou grove that crowns the shore ; Long, long a captive have ye held me here Round Troy's beleaguered towers ; But — breathing life's free air, Shall hold me here no more. — Know this, Whoe'er can rightly judge ! O Thou, whose limpid streams Adjacent flow, Scamander ! to the host Of Greece propitious still ; Know, never, never more Shalt thou behold the man (I speak a high and haughty word) Whose peer none ever marked On Trojan plains, 'mid all the host who sailed From Grecian realms ; but now dishonoured thus, Prostrate he lies. Ch. Nor can I check, nor yet endure thy words, So great the evils which enclose thee now. Aj. 3 Ah me ! who ever could have deemed my name 3 'At, a'l — vvv ya.g wa^r* *a* v yotp pm warpta ■n~aiera.<; dopt, Kaa pyTsp aKhvi pZipa. rov (pvauvra, te KaSaXei/ "Ai^a S«i/a:74/x«s oixijTopa?. This is the passage referred to in the prefatory remarks, which, if Potter's translation be correct, would give such a decisive overthrow to our prepossessions in favour of the unfortunate Tecmessa ; and, consequently, so materially diminish the in- terest of the drama. Following Brunck, who places the stop after pviTsp, he has — Beneath thy conquering spear My ruined country and my mother sunk. We have preferred the arrangement of Lobeck and Erfurdt, who punctuate the passage as above; and by that expedient altogether evade the difficulty of supposing Ajax to be the murderer of the mother of Tecmessa. Matthiae, vol. ii. 418, quoting the passage, reads rlv qlaccvra ue — a reading liable to great objection,. 120 AJAX. Ch. O were thine heart with pity moved, as mine, Her words, my Lord, would win a prompt assent. Aj. She will, indeed, command my warmest praise, If to my bidding she will dare to yield A due obedience. Tec. My dear Lord, in all Will I obey thee. Aj. Bring me then my son That I may gaze upon him. Tec. In my fears I hence removed him. Aj. By our recent ills Alarmed? or wherefore? Tec. Lest the hapless child, Encountering thee, should fall beneath thy hand. Aj. That were, indeed, congenial with my fate. Tec. And to prevent it, I have thus secured him. Aj. I praise thy wise precaution in the deed. Tec. Say, in what else can I obey thy word ? Aj. Let me behold him, and address my son. Tec. Thy trusty train protect him near the spot. Aj. Why is his presence then so long delayed? Tec. My son, thy father calls thee. Of our train, Thou, who dost bear the child, haste, bring him in. Aj. Say, comes he at thy call, or hears thee not? A J AX. 121 Tec. E'en now th' attendant with his charge is nigh. Aj. Bring, bring him hither, for he will not shrink At the deep hue of this ensanguined carnage, If he, in truth, can rightly call me father. Soon should he learn the firm unbending mood Of my proud soul, and emulate his sire. 6 Mayst thou, my son, be happier than thy father ; Like him in all beside ; so with the base Never shalt thou be numbered. Happy now I may pronounce thee, since these present ills Are all unfelt by thee. Alas ! how oft, When thought is absent, life is most serene, * # # # # Until thou learn to smile, and to be sad ! When thou attain this age, then must thou prove To all thy father's foes, from what bold stock Thou cam'st — thyself as brave. Meanwhile be nursed By sportive breathings, fostering thy young life, Thy tender mother's joy. Of all the Greeks None, well I know, with hate and foul reproach Will ever spurn thee, though bereft of me. Disce, puer, virtutem ex me verumque laborem ; Fortunam ex aliis. — Virgil, iEn. xii. 434. 122 AJAX. So bold a guardian o'er thee shall I leave In Teucer, who will watch thy nurture well, Though now, from sight afar, he hunts the foe. Ye, too, dear warriors, skilled to stem the wave, To you this common office I bequeath, Give him my last commands ; that he conduct My son to Salamis, and show him there To Telamon, and Eribcea old, That he may be the solace of their age, Till they shall reach the gloomy halls of Death. Let not the judges of the strife, nor he, My deadliest foe, propose mine arms to Greece, The victor's prize ; Eurysaces, my son, Bear thou the shield, from which thou draw'st thy name, Of seven tough hides compact — by hostile spear Unperforate, and close knit with many thongs. Take this, my son ; be my remaining arms Laid with me in the grave. And now with speed Bear quickly hence thy child ; close fast the house, Nor wail within the tent. 7 Tears promptly spring To female eyes. Shut now thy doors with speed. 7 Tvvt) 3e Sfav, y.ocrri Sangvov; ttpv. — Medea, 924. AJAX. 123 No skilful leech by potent charms can heal The wound whose only med'cine is the sword. Ch. I quake to hear this prompt and ardent charge — This language of despair — I like it not. Tec. My Lord, my Ajax, what is thy design ? Aj. Nay, think not — ask not — prudence most be- comes thee. Tec. Alas ! what terrors seize me. By thy child, Yea, by the Gods, I do conjure thee, pause ; Ah, doom us not to ruin ! Aj. Thou dost wake My heaviest wrath. 8 What! know'st thou not that I Owe nought of prayer or reverence to the Gods ? Tec. Speak better omens. 8 Nothing impious is here intended : the words of Ajax have the same signification as those of JEneas over the dead body of Pallas : Nos juvenem exanimum, et nil jam ccelestibus ullis Debentem, vano mcesti comitamur honore. Potter. We cannot concur in this opinion of Potter, into which he appears to have been led by extreme partiality for his hero. Impiety (see line 127) was a predominant feature in the character of Ajax. 124 AJAX. Aj. Prate to those who hear thee. Tec. Wilt thou not heed me ? Aj. Thou hast said too much ! Tec. I fear, my Lord — Aj. Will ye not force her in? Tec. Be softened, by the Gods ! Aj. Thou art bereft Of prudence, if thou form the vain design To shake the settled temper of my soul. Chorus. STROPHE I. Famed Salamis, — thy happy shores arise, Sublime 'mid ocean, where the wild waves war; Thy towering cliffs the distant sail descries ; While I, unhappy ! lingering yet afar On Ida's pastured plain Through long, long years remain, Unhonoured, and by withering age opprest; Torn with desponding fear, Lest darker fate severe Dismiss my shuddering soul to Death's drear shades unblest. AJAX. 125 ANTISTROPHE I. Ah me ! the gallant Ajax, sunk in woes No art can heal, augments my anxious care ; From Heaven's dread wrath his fatal frenzy rose : Whom to the combat, ever foremost there, My country, thou hast sent ; Whose soul, by madness rent, Now in his pitying friends wakes deep dismay. His deeds of martial might, Achieved in prosperous fight, By Atreus' senseless sons unvalued pass away. STROPHE II. O when, by wasting years Worn down, and hoary age, An absent mother hears This act of frenzied rage ; She will not pour the dirge of woe, 9 Like Philomela, faint and low : 9 The nightingale is a favourite simile among the Latin well as the Greek poets. Qualis populea mcerens Philomela sub umbra Amissos queritur foetus, &c. Virg. Georg. iv. 511. So Horn. Od. xix. 518. 126 A3 AX, No ; she will mourn her hapless child, With piercing shrieks of vain despair ; And smite her breast in anguish wild, And rend her scattered locks of silver hair. ANTISTROPHE II. O happier, did he rest In death, than thus to pine With cureless griefs oppressed ! The Chief of lofty line Noblest of Greece, whose wiser mood Is now by maddening rage subdued. Ah wretched sire ! what keen regret Awaits thee for thy hapless son ! Plunged deep in heaviest woes, as yet To all thy princely race, save him, unknown ! Aj. Time, in his lengthened and unmeasured course, Reveals things secret, and in darkness veils The most conspicuous ; nought transcends the range Of hope; stern oaths, and fixedness of soul Are each in turn subdued. I, who but now Inflexible, like tempered steel, appeared, Relent, persuaded by this woman's words. I pity her, left widowed 'mid my foes ; AJAX. 127 My son, a helpless orphan. Moved by this, To the pure baths and pastured shores I go, That, cleansed from all pollutions, I may shun The fearful vengeance of the Virgin-Power. Some yet untrodden spot will I explore To hide this sword, — this weapon most abhorred, Deep in the earth, where none may e'er behold, But Night and Hell preserve it evermore. 'Twas Hector's gift, my most detested foe;' And since the hour he gave it, nought from Greece Have I achieved of honour. Sage and true Is the old adage, ' that a foeman's gift Is not a gift, nor fraught with solid good. Henceforth we'll pay meet reverence to the Gods, And learn submission to the sons of Atreus. They are Kings, and should be honoured. Where- fore not? The martial and most valiant must concede | To loftier station ; thus the wintry snows | Yield to the fruitful summer. Night's dark orb Retires from Heaven, that with his snow-white steeds Glad Day may kindle o'er the reddening skies. When with wild winds vexed Ocean hoarsely raves, ' Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. — Virg. iEn. 11. 49. 128 AJAX. A gentler gale may still the storm to peace ; And Sleep, the all-subduing, breaks the chain Wherewith he bound, nor holds us captive ever. Why then should we refuse to learn submission, Since — for at length I know — 2 so would I hate A foe, as one whom friendship's tie restored, May yet unite once more ; so would I aim To aid a friend, in action and in word, As one yet prone to change ? Friendship, I know, To man a faithless haven oft hath proved. But all shall yet be well. Retire within, And pray the Gods, Tecmessa, to bestow A prosperous issue to my soul's desire. Ye too, dear comrades, to your chief concede An equal honour ; and when Teucer comes, Tell him our will, and bid him, too, concur. Now where Fate calls me thither must I go. Ye but observe the bidding of your Lord ; And soon, perchance, though now in misery sunk, My glad release from sorrow shall ye hear. [Exit A j ax. 2 Similar is the sentiment referred to by Cicero, de Amic. xvi. Compare, also, Eurip. Hippol. 253, et seqq. AJAX. 129 Chorus. STROPHE. Now with love my heart is glowing ; Now with livelier joys o'erflowing : lo, lo, Sylvan God, Wanderer of the ocean-flood, Come, O Pan, from heights of snow, On z Cyllene's craggy brow ; Come, Monarch of the choir divine, For all the graceful art is thine : Come, thine own sportive dance to share ; — Such as on Nysa's heights of green, And in the Gnossian vales is seen ; — The dance is all my care. Hastening o'er th' 4 Icarian main, 3 Cyllene, a mountain of Arcadia, jointly patronized by Mercury, whose birth-place it was, and Pan. (Pan Deus Arcadize venit. Virg. Eel. 10.) Nysa, a summit of Par- nassus, the same with that mentioned in the Antigone. Gnossus, a city in Crete. Ti 'wzXov, biov ttot hk Kvucrau \vgiiv\ II. 18. 590. 4 The Icarian sea, south of Icaros, on the coast of Ionia. VOL. II. K 130 AJAX. Royal Phoebus, Delian Power; Thou too, in the joyous hour Thy favouring presence deign ! ANTISTROPHE. Mars hath changed the clouds of sadness, To the cheerful beam of gladness : Io, lo, now again, Now, O Jove, her welcome reign Morn resumes, and pours her light O'er the gallies, swift in flight ; Since of his wrath forgetful now Ajax again the suppliant vow To Heaven's offended Powers hath paid, Again fulfilled each holy rite. — Before stern Time's resistless might/ All mortal strength must fade : Nor would I of aught despair — Since from wrath and mortal feud Ajax to the Royal Pair Resumes a milder mood. Enter Messenger. AJAX. 131 MESSENGER, CHORUS. Mess. My friends, these tidings I would first relate, Teucer is present from the Mysian heights ; Whom, while advancing midway through the host, With stern reproach the Argive bands pursued. When from afar they saw him, all withstood His onward path, and, flocking round, broke forth On every side in keen upbraiding taunts ; From insult none refrained. " The brother this," They cry, " of that wild madman, to the host A false convicted traitor, who shall die, Crushed, as he merits, by o'erwhelming stones." Nay, to such height arose the gathering fray, That many hands were drawing from the sheath Their glittering swords. At length the strife was hushed, By wise persuasions of experienced age. But where is Ajax, that to his own ear These tidings I may bear — for to our Lord Duty enjoins us to disclose the whole? Ch. He is no more within; but late went forth In new-born calmness, and with new design. k 2 132 AJAX. Mess. Alas ! Alas ! Then lie, who sent me hither, gave too late His charge, or I have loitered on my way. Ch. What, then, is wanting of our present need? Mess. Teucer gave charge, that, till himself arrived, The Chief an instant should not quit the tent. Ch. He went, with wisest purpose, to avert, By pious prayer, the anger of the Gods. Mess. Such words are empty babbling, if we hold 5 The prescient Calchas an unerring prophet. Ch. What ? Hath he aught foretold concerning this? Mess. Thus much I know, for I was present there. Out of the court and council of the Kings Calchas apart from Atreus' sons retired, And grasping Teucer's hand, with friendly zeal, Charged and conjured him, by whatever means He could devise, throughout this day to keep Ajax within his tent, nor let him range Beyond its precincts, if he still desired To see him living. On this day alone, 5 Praeterea, si qua est Heleno prudentia, vati Si qua fides. — Virgil. AJAX. 133 He said, against him burned Athena's wrath. For oft, the Seer declared, unwieldy 6 might, If void of prudence, by offended Heaven Is crushed in ruin, when beyond his birth With aim too daring senseless man aspires. When first the Chieftain left his native isle, He heeded not his father's prudent charge, Who thus addressed him : " Seek, my son, in fight, To conquer, but still conquer through the Gods :" This was his haughty and unwise reply : " Father, with heavenly aid a coward's hand May grasp the prize of conquest ; I confide To win such trophies e'en without the Gods." So lofty was his boast. Thus too once more, When mighty Pallas spurred him on to turn His reeking hand againt th' opposing foe, He answered stern in proud and impious strain : " O Queen ! to other Argives lend thine aid ; No hostile might shall break where Ajax stands." 6 This admirable sentiment is well expressed by Horace : Vis consili expers mole ruit sua : Vim temperatam Di quoque provehunt In majus : idem odere vires Omne nefas animo moventes.— Hor. Lib. iii. 4. 134 AJAX. By words like these lie roused to ruthless ire Th' offended Goddess, for his spirit burned With pride unmeet for mortals. But this day If he survive, then, with celestial aid, We yet may save him. Thus the Prophet spake ; And Teucer bade me from the council bear These weighty mandates for thy prompt observance. If here our purpose fail, and Calchas prove A faithful prophet, Ajax is no more ! Ch. Wretched Tecmessa, born to bitterest woe, Come forth, and listen to these news of ill — Torn from the root are now thy transient joys. Tec. Who calls a hapless wretch, scarce resting yet From unexhausted ills, to quit her seat ? Ch. Hear from this man, what tidings he reports Of Ajax ; terror seized me as I heard. Tec. Ah me ! what say'st thou ? — are we then undone ? Mess. Thy fate I know not; but for Ajax' doom, If he have left his tent, no hope I feel. Tec. He hath indeed ; and therefore at thy words, Fear steals upon my soul ! Mess. 'Tis Teucer's charge, He should be closely watched, nor left alone To wander forth. AJAX. 135 Tec. And where is Teucer, say ; And wherefore charged he thus ? Mess. E'en now he comes. But oh ! I tremble, lest this sad event Be but the prelude to the fall of Ajax. Tec. Unhappy me ! And who informed thee thus ? Mess. The Prophet-son of Thestor, that this day 7 Would bring or certain death, or life secure. Tec. Ah me ! lend, lend, O friends, your prompt- est aid In this sad crisis : some with speed repair To hasten Teucer 's coming ; some explore The western hills ; the eastern some ; to track Th' ill-omened path of your devoted Lord. Alas ! he hath deceived me. Well I know He loves me not as he was wont to love. Ah me ! What shall I do, my son ? — No time Is this to linger. Thither will I go Where'er my strength avails. Away ! Away ! Now is their time to act, who fain would snatch From death the man, who only hastes to die. Ch. I am prepared ; nor will I show my zeal 7 This day or makes me, or undoes me quite. 136 AJAX. In empty words ; the swift unlingering course, And the prompt deed shall follow on my speech. [Exeunt Chorus #/7^Tecmessa. Scene changes, and discovers Aj ax bending over his Sword. 3 Aj. Now stands the murderous sword, where it may pierce Most deeply — (had I thought in such an hour To reason idly thus) — 'Twas Hector's gift, Of strangers ever most abhorred by me, And to my sight most hateful. In the soil Of hostile Troy 'tis rooted, sharpened late To pierce more promptly. I have well prepared And fixed it deep, to yield a speedy death, And thence to Ajax prove his kindest friend. Thus far 'tis well arranged. Next, mighty Jove ! 8 Here is a violation of the unity of place, which has been censured by some writers ; but it is essential to the machinery of the piece. Similar instances are found in the Eumenides of iEschylus, and the Alcestis of Euripides ; and, even were it not so, still, as Potter justly remarks, the single speech of Ajax over his sword is of more value than all the unities. AJAX. 137 Thy grace, as is most meet, I now implore, Nor will I ask thee for an ample boon. Send one who may in Teucer's ear report The evil tidings, that he first may bear My corpse, yet reeking from the sword, away, Lest by some foe discovered, I am cast To dogs and birds a vile dishonoured prey. This, Jove, I ask of thee. — I next invoke 9 Th' infernal Hermes, guide of parted souls, That he would soothe me gently to repose ; And grant, when this keen sword has pierced my side, A prompt and painless passage to the shades. I next invoke to aid me those dread Powers, For ever virgins, and of mortal wrongs For ever conscious, swift in keen pursuit, The awful Furies, to attest my doom, By the base sons of Atreus basely slain, And plunge the traitors in an equal fate. As they behold my blood, by mine own hand Poured forth, so be their best-loved children's hands 9 Tu pias laetis animas reponis Sedibus, virgaque levem coerces Aurea turbam, &c. — Hor. lib. i. 10 138 AJAX. Embrued in their's— thus IO self-destroyers too. Come, ye Avenging Furies, swift and stern, Quaff their warm blood, nor spare the peopled host. — Thou, too, whose car o'er yon bright Heaven is borne, Look down, O Sun ! upon my native land ; Relax thy golden reins, and deign to bear The joyless tale of misery and of death, To my sad mother and my aged sire. Unhappy Queen ! soon as the tale she hears, What plaints through all the city will she pour ! — Yet idly thus to sorrow nought avails ; Let the bold deed at once be dared and done. Death ! stern Death ! approach, regard me now, Soon shall I hold a nearer converse with thee. Thee, car-borne Sun sublime, for the last ti m e, 1 Thee, glorious beam of the resplendent day, 10 It is well known, that to die by the hand of one's own children was accounted among the Ancients a species of suicide. 1 It was a general custom among the Ancients to invoke the Sun, as a witness of their sufferings : — Esto nunc Sol testis, et haec mihi terra precanti Quam propter tantos potui perferre labores, Et Pater Omnipotens, &c. — Virg. JEn. xii. 176. AJAX. 139 I now invoke, to hail no more for ever ! light — O soil of Salamis beloved, My father-land ! O dear paternal hearth, Thou noble Athens, and my loved compeers — Ye founts, ye rivers, and ye Trojan plains, Which long have here sustained me — Ajax breathes This parting word, a long and last farewell ; — Next shall I commune with the shades of Hell. [Falls upon his sword. Scene opens and discovers Chorus divided into Two Parties, seeking Ajax. 1st Semich. Toil but increases toil. Where, where, O where Hath not my search explored ? And yet no spot his latent path reveals. Hist ! — hist ! I hear a sound. 2d Semich. From us it came, thy mates in com- mon search. 1st Semich. What tidings do ye bring? 2d Semich. We traversed all the western naval camp. 1st Semich. What have ye found ? 140 AJAX. 2d Semich. Enough of toil — but nought in sight beyond. 1st Semich. Nor yet to me, in all mine eastward course, Appeared a vestige of the man we seek. STROPHE. Ch. Who then, O who of all the z Powers ma- rine, Holding his sleepless watch, intent on toil- — Which of th' Olympian host, or who that dwells By Bosphorus' torrent streams, If he hath marked the high-souled chief, Will tell me where he roams ? Unwelcome task for me 3 Worn down with age and weakness, wandering thus, To lead a tedious search, nor trace a 'ATuaSaj*. — Some render this " the laborious fishermen;" we read ufactiuv, and incline to consider it referring to the Marine Gods, particularly as used in opposition to 'OAu/^sna^W, which last Herman proposes as the true reading for 'OtofMnaSay. 3 Aptvwlv. — Musgrave, referring this word to Ajax, pro- poses to read /ke/xuvot'. The Choregus, however, evidently refers to himself, as being an old man. AJAX. 141 The frenzied wanderer's path ! Tec. Ah me ! ah me ! Ch. What groans are echoing from th' adjacent grove ? Tec. Wretch that I am ! Ch. The captive of his spear — his hapless bride, Tecmessa, bowed in anguish I behold. Tec. I am undone, my friends, destroyed — un- done. Ch. What dost thou mean ? Tec. Here lies our Ajax, slain with recent wound, Pierced by the fatal sword, too well concealed. Ch. Woe, woe for my return ! — Thus dying, Prince beloved, me too, Thy comrade hast thou slain — Ah me ! unhappy me ! More wretched, lady, thou ! Tec. Since such his doom, 'tis time indeed to wail ! Ch. Say, by whose hand the hapless chieftain died? Tec. His own — his own, 'tis evident — for the sword, Deep fixed in earth, on which he fell, confirms it. Ch. Ah ! my unhappy doom ! 142 AJAX. How didst thou sink in death alone, By friends unguarded all, While I — O most unthinking — most unwise. Slept negligent — Where, where Lies the unbending chief, Ajax of hapless name ? Tec. 4 Thou must not gaze upon him. I will fold This ample robe around his lifeless form ; — Alas ! no friendly eye could bear to look On the wide nostril, spouting sable gore, On the wide wound his own fierce hand hath made. What shall I do? What friend shall bear thee hence? Where, where is Teucer ? — How will he arrive, Would he but come indeed, in time to pay The last sad duties to a brother's corpse ! Ill-fated Ajax, man of matchless mould, Such are thy miseries, as might wring the tears Of prompt compassion from a foeman's eye. 4 This is an extremely delicate and accurate touch of na- ture. So tender was the affection of Tecmessa for her mur- dered Ajax, that she could not endure even his dead body to become an object of horror or disgust. The dying Hip- politus appears to have been conscious of a similar feeling: — AJAX. 143 ANTISTROPHE. Ch. This was thy purpose then, thy purpose this, O thou of firm and unrelenting soul ! By resolute death to end thy boundless toils. — Such were in night's mid gloom, In day's broad splendour, such thine anguished groans, On Atreus' race abhorred Invoking curses dire. That instant was the source of all our woes, When they proposed for valour's meed Achilles' radiant arms. Tec. Unhappy me ! Ch. That grief, I know, lies deep within thy breast. Tec. Ah me ! ah me ! Ch. I marvel not at thine incessant groans, Lady, but now of one so dear deprived. Tec. Thou canst but think — 'tis mine to feel too deeply. Ch. I own it. Tec. Ah me ! my son, what yoke of bondage base Must we endure ; what haughty Lord obey P 144 AJAX. Ch. Alas ! thou hast recalled 5 The dark unutterable deed Of the stern kings, unmoved In this our agony — May Heaven avert the blow ! Tec. It had not fallen thus, but Heaven decreed. Ch. Woes far too heavy have the Gods imposed. Tec. Yet such affliction for Ulysses' sake, Jove's hostile daughter, stern Athena, sends. Ch. The Chief of many toils In his dark soul will doubtless mock Our tears with bitterest scorn, And laugh insulting at the woes we bear For deeds in frenzy wrought ! So, too, the Brother-Kings Hearing the welcome tale. Tec. And let them laugh exulting in his woes ; Perchance, though living, they revered him not, In battle's hour they may lament him dead. The fool, though grasping in his hand a prize, s "Ai/ctvSov. — This word, according to Musgrave, generally signifies mutum, taciturnum ; he, consequently, proposes to reject it, and read avouSZv. This, however, is unnecessary, since, as Erfurdt observes, it denotes the same with avotvforos and xvuv^ns, infandum. AJAX. 145 Heeds not its value, till 'tis lost for ever. More bitter was his death to me than sweet To them ; but joyous to himself: — the death He prayed for — wished for — now hath closed his woes. How then can they insult a doom like this? 'Twas by the Gods he perished, not by them. ) Let then Ulysses vent his empty taunts. They have no longer Ajax — while to me, Dying, he leaves dejection and despair. Teu. Alas! alas! [within. Ch. Hist ! for I seem to hear the voice of Teucer, Uttering deep groans, accordant with our ills. Enter Teucer. TEUCER, TECMESSA, CHORUS. Teu. O dearest Ajax, — O most honoured brother ! Hast thou then perished e'en as rumour tells ? Ch. Yes, Teucer; thou must hear the mournful truth : He is no more ! Teu. Ah miserable me ! VOL. II. l 146 AJAX. What heaviest grief is this ? Ch. In woes like these — Teu. Unhappy — most unhappy ! Ch. Tis well to weep. Teu. O most disastrous doom ! Ch. Aye ! too disastrous, Teucer. Teu. Wretched man ! But say, what of his son? Where is he now, In Trojan ground? Ch. Alone, within the tents. Teu. Fly then, and bring him hither to our pre- sence ; Lest some fierce foe secure him, as the whelp Of the forsaken lioness. Away ! Be prompt, assist him. All are prone to tread Upon departed greatness. Ch. While the life Still warmed his breast, it was his latest charge, That thou shouldst guard, as now thou guard'st, his son. Teu. O sight of all that ever met mine eye, Most fraught with anguish ! O ill-omened path That led me here, of all I ever trod, Tending to pangs that wound my heart most deeply ; AJAX. 147 When first I heard thy fate, beloved Ajax, Swift I pursued, and tracked thy steps in vain. A sad report of thee, as by some God, Was quickly blazoned through the Argive host, That thou hadst perished ; I in sorrow heard, Deep groaning, though afar ; I see it now, And sink in heavier anguish. Come, remove The veil, that I may witness all my woe. O sight of horror ! — wild excess of rage ! How many woes thy death has sown for me ! Ah whither, to what people can I fly, I, in thy need who was not nigh to aid thee ? Will Telamon, thy father and mine own, Meet me with smiling brow and favouring heart, Uncompanied by thee ? How should he thus, Who smiled not, e'en when better fortune crowned me? What will he hide ? What keen upbraidings spare? Will he not brand me as the base-born child Of bondage, who, through mean, unmanly, fear, Betrayed thee, dearest Ajax ; or through fraud, That by thy death exalted, I might win Thy kingdom for mine heritage ? Thus incensed, By nature wrathful, and morose with age, l 2 148 AJAX. My sire will vent th' unmerited reproach ; And last/ an outcast from my native land Shall I be thrust ; accounted as a slave Unmeet for freedom. This at home awaits me ; While stern and many are my foes at Troy, My aids but few and feeble. All these ills Thy death, my brother, hath on me imposed. Ah me ! what shall I do 1 How shall I tear Thy corpse, unhappy, from this deadly sword, Whose point hath shed thy life-blood ? Didst thou know Hector, himself no more, would cause thy ruin? Mark, by the Gods ! these hapless heroes' fate. Bound by the very belt which Ajax gave To the swift chariot, Hector breathed his last ; He, too, possessing Hector's fatal gift, 5 This presage of Teucer was verified by the event, as he was, on his return from Troy, expelled from Salamis by his indignant father. Teucer Salamina patremque Cum fugeret. Hor. Od. vii. lib. 1. Atque equidem Teucrum memini Sidona venire Finibus expulsum patriis, nova regna petentem. Virg. ttn. i. 619. AJAX. 149 By it hath perished with a mortal wound. Did not some Fury forge that sword, and Death, A stern artificer ! that baldrick weave ? These, then, I ween, the Gods for man ordain ; These, and each strange vicissitude of life. If others think not thus, let them adhere To their own sentence ; I am fixed in mine. Ch. Forbear thy plaints; bethink thee how t' entomb Thy brother's corpse in earth, and how reply. I see a foe approaching, who perchance Comes, like a ruffian, to insult our woes. Teu. Whom of the host advancing dost thou see ? Ch. Tis Menel'aus, in whose cause we sailed From Greece. Teu. I see him ; he is near us now, And may be promptly known. Enter Menelaus. MENELAUS, TEUCER, TECMESSA, CHORUS. Men. Ho ! thee I call. Raise not that lifeless body with thy hands, 150 AJAX. But leave it as it lies. Teu. Why dost thou speak In terras so haughty ? Men. Thus have we decreed ; And thus th' imperial chieftain. Teu. Wilt thou say What plea thou bring'st to justify the deed ? Men. Because, when we had trusted from his home He came to Greece a friend and firm ally, Soon in the chief we found a deadlier foe, Than e'en the adverse Trojans ; — who conspired The death of all our army, and by night Rushed forth to slay us with insidious spear ; And, but some God his frenzied madness foiled, Ours must the doom have been that now is his ; And we had perished by as base a death, While he survived ; but Heaven reversed the wrong, And on the senseless herds his fury fell. 6 Wherefore be none so potent, as to hide 6 This brutality was too common among the ancients. It was the privation of sepulchral honours that embittered the last moments of the dying Hector; and Turnus, while he will not directly supplicate for life, implores at least this boon. AJAX. 151 His breathless body in a decent tomb ; But, cast unhonoured on the yellow sand, A prey to ravening sea-birds let it lie. Nor thou at this indulge unlicensed rage. If, while he lived, our righteous rule he scorned, At least in death our sway shall reach him now, Constrained, though thou withstand, by mightier force. Living, he never hearkened to my word, And stubborn soul it speaks, when men ungraced With power, are backward to obey their Masters. Laws in a state could ne'er be well observed, Unless enforced by salutary fear fh Nor will an army bend submiss to sway, Unchecked by reverence, and by dread unawed. Man should reflect, though strong in corporal might, A trivial ill may work his future ruin A When fear is blended with ingenuous shame, The man, of both observant, is secure. Et me, seu corpus spoliatum lumine mavis, Redde meis. This passage conveys no very favourable opinion of the hus- band of Helen, and the brother of the King of Men. 152 A J AX. Where license free for lawless outrage reigns, That state, though sped by Fortune's favouring gales, Must sink, ere long, in Ruin's gulf immerged. Ever let me such wholesome awe observe, Nor let us deem, that acting as we list, We shall not pay a penalty of woe. Alternate these succeed. This man before Was insolent and proud ; 'tis now my turn, And I forewarn thee not t' entomb the chief, Lest, granting him a grave, thou dig thine own. Ch. O Menelaus ! since thy words are sage, With senseless insult tread not on the lifeless. Teu. Henceforth I ne'er can wonder, if a man Sprung from ignoble lineage widely errs ; Since chiefs, who vaunt them in ancestral fame, Err in their reasoning with vain words like these. Recur to thy commencement. Canst thou say Thou broughtest Ajax, as to Greece allied ? Sailed he not forth, sole Master of himself? How wert thou made his general ? Whence hast thou Right to command the troops he brought from home? Thou cam'st the King of Sparta, not our chief. Nor hadst thou aught of juster rule o'er him, Than he might claim o'er thee. Hither thou saild'st, AJAX. 153 Thyself another's subject,— not the chief Of all, — that thou shouldst thus o'er Ajax lord : 7 Rule where thy sway is owned, and lofty vaunts On thine own vassals vent ; but for this man, — Though thou, or e'en thy brother-chief forbid, — I will entomb him with funereal rites, Thine idle threats disdaining. For thy wife He did not serve in battle, like the tribes Compelled to join the mercenary war; But by the oath himself had sworn constrained, Not for thy sake. He ne'er esteemed the worthless. Go then,- — bring many heralds in thy train, — Bring e'en the imperial chief; thy clamorous threats Shall never move my purpose, while thou art What now I know thee. Ch. Nay, I cannot praise Such vehemence, while woes are thick around us. Reproach like this, though just, severely wounds. Men. This archer thinks not meanly of himself. Teu. No ! 'twas no vain nor worthless art I learned. Men. Great were thine insolence, didst thou wear a shield ! 7 Go ; — show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Julius Caesar. 154 AJAX. Teu. 8 Defenceless thus I would not shrink from thee, Though cased in panoply. Men. Thy words indeed Bespeak a doughty soul. Teu. Conscious of right The soul may proudly soar. Men. Is it then right To grace with honour the base wretch who slew me? Teu. Slew thee ? O wondrous ! slain and yet alive ? Men. The Gods preserved my life, — in his intent I died. Teu. Then dare not thou despise the Gods, Thus by the Gods preserved. Men. What, do I scorn The laws of Heaven ? 8 YtXo«: the i|/»*o» wore no defensive armour, and were infe- rior in dignity to the otcXTtoci. Bowmen were accounted the least honourable of warriors, as we learn from the reproach of Diomed to Paris, in the eleventh Iliad. Thrice armed is he that hath his quarrel just; And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. Shakspeare, Henry VI. AJAX. 155 Teu. Yes ; if thou wilt not grant The dead a tomb. Men. I will not grant my foe A sepulchre, — such grace would ill become me. Teu. Did Ajax ever beard thee as a foe ? Men. I hated him because he hated me ; To this thou art no stranger. Teu. Aye, by him A false and fraudful voter wert thou proved. Men. This from the umpires, not from me, arose. Teu. For many wiles canst thou in secret frame. Men. These words shall cost thee sorrow. Teu. None so keen I deem, as that I have imposed on thee. Men. One word I speak. He must not be en- tombed. Teu. In one I answer. He shall be entombed ! Men. I once beheld a man of daring speech, Who, while the heavens grew dark, enjoined the crew To spread their swelling sails ; but when the storm Infuriate raged, his voice was heard no more ; Then, in his cloak enfolded, every foot At will might trample o'er his prostrate form. So thine offensive clamours will be checked, 156 AJAX. When from a little cloud the mighty storm Shall burst in wrath, and curb thy lengthened vaunts. Teu. I too have seen a man, by folly swoln, Who laughed insulting at a neighbour's woe. One like myself beheld him, and in wrath, Resembling mine, such words as these returned ; " Presume not, mortal, to insult the dead. If thou persist, know, certain vengeance waits thee." So he, thus present, warned th' insensate foe. I see him now ; he is, or much I err, No other than thyself. Say, speak I now In parables obscurely ? Men. I depart. It ill beseems the man to threat in words, Who has the power by force to work his will. Teu. Away ; — I too esteem it foul reproach Idly to babble with a fool like thee. [Exit Menelaus. TEUCER, CHORUS. Ch. Some strife of dire contention must arise. But, Teucer, haste thee to explore AJAX. 157 Some cave, where Ajax may repose In his sepulchral dwelling, to mankind An ever-memorable name ! Teu. Mark, too, in season for our task most meet, His wife and son are present, to assist The obsequies of the unhappy dead. Come hither, child, and, standing near the corpse, A suppliant, touch the sire who gave thee life. And sit imploring there, fast in thy hand Grasping my hair, thy mother's, and thine own, The suppliant's treasured prayer. If of the host One but presume to force thee from the dead, Let that vile wretch on earth unburied lie, And from the root for ever be he plucked With all his race, as I cut off this hair. Take it, my child, — preserve it, — from this spot Let none constrain thee, — to thy sire cling fast. Ye too, not women in the garb of men, Stand close around, and aid him till I come, Forbid who may, our Ajax to entomb. [Exit Teucer. Chorus. STROPHE I. What then shall be the bound? O where 158 AJAX. Shall close the train of wandering years, Which ever fraught with restless care, With martial toils, and ceaseless fears, 9 At Troy detains me yet, — a name To Greece of woe and darkest shame ! ANTISTROPHE I. O ! had he first dissolved in air, Or sought our common home, the grave, Who taught these hateful arms to bear, And the I0 sad boon to Hellas gave. O toils of toils prolific still ! He wreaked on man man's deadliest ill. STROPHE II. He gave me not the crown to twine, Or quafT the sparkling bowl ; To revel in the generous wine, To raise the dulcet strain divine, 9 'EygaJ&j T§o*«» — Ivguh), properly squalidam, sordidam. But Troy was remarkable for its magnificence. We may either refer the epithet to the low and marshy plains about Troy, or adopt Lobeck's conjecture of Ivgveffi. 10 Koivo/Agflv, communem noxam.— Musgr. Rather, helium quod sociatis viribus gerunt. A3 AX. 159 Or melt, while night's mid splendours shine, In blissful love's control. To love, sweet love, I wake no more ; But ' cheerless lie on this bleak shore, While aye o'er mine unsheltered head The damp chill dews of Heaven are shed, Sad Troy's memorials sole ! ANTISTROPHE II. Till now from fears that frown by night, Or darts that wound by day, My shield was Ajax, stern in fight ; — He yields to some loathed Daemon's might — And now o'er me what new delight Shall beam its genial ray? O that I stood on that proud steep Which beetles o'er the maddening deep, Where * Sunium rears its lofty shore ; — Then, sacred Athens, might I pour To thee a livelier lay ! 'A/Aepi/xi-os, for itoXvpi^pvoq. It may, however, be trans- lated neglectus. * Sunium was a promontory of Athens, at the extremity of Attica : there was a small port and town, near which Miner- va had a splendid temple. 160 AJAX. Re-enter Teucer. TEUCER, TECMESSA, EURYSACES, CHORUS. Teu. I hurried back, for I perceived our chief, Stern Agamemnon, hither bend his steps. No mild address his lowering brow portends. Enter Agamemnon. AGAMEMNON, TEUCER, TECMESSA, EURYSACES, CHORUS. Agam. Do they then tell me thou hast dared to vent Reproach on us, and thus unpunished too, Thou, the base offspring of a captured slave ? Had but thy mother sprung from noble race, How high had been thy vaunts, how fierce thy pride, Since, weak thyself as nothing, thou dost strive For one who now is nothing ; and hast vowed That nor commanders of the Grecian host, AJAX. 161 Nor of the fleet, nor e'en thyself, we came ; But Ajax, as thou said'st, to Ilion sailed His own sole sovereign. Is't not foulest shame To hear such vauntings from a slave like thee ?! And in whose cause hast thou so proudly cla- moured ? Where hath he met, or where withstood the foe, And I have shrunk or trembled ? Hath our Greece Through all her hosts no men, save him alone? In evil hour, it seems, did I proclaim To Greece the contest for Achilles' arms, If Teucer brand me in each place a villain ; And ye, the conquered, will not yield the prize, When by the umpires' general voice assigned ; But still pursue us with reproaches keen, And, when defeated, secret treasons frame. Did acts like these prevail, no laws could stand On firm and lasting basis, should we wrest His guerdon from the victor, and award The proud pre-eminence to grace the vanquished. But this must be restrained. Not corporal might, Nor sinewy frame on firmest footing stands ; The wise and prudent are the prosperous still. By a small lash in its appointed path The mighty ox is unresisting led. VOL. II. M 162 A J AX. Nay, o'er thee too, such medicine I perceive Stealing, unless a wiser mood return, Who for what once was man, but now a shade, Dost brawl, and give free license to thy tongue. Wilt thou not bend submissive — wilt not own Thine abject baseness, and bring hither one Of freeborn race to speak while thou art silent ? How should I catch the purport of thy words, Who am not practised in barbaric tongue 1 Ch. O that a soul more temperate dwelt in both ! I know not what to wish more meet for either* Teu. J Alas ! how soon the service of the dead Fades from remembrance, and is all effaced, If this vain man so lightly deems of thee, My Ajax, nor accords the slightest grace To one whose life so often in the field Hath on his cause been perilled ! All thy deeds Are swept unheeded from his memory now. Thou, of so many and such senseless words, Say, hast thou no remembrance, when enclosed 3 But yesterday the name of Caesar might Have stood against the world ; now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence. Julius Caesar. A J AX. 163 Within your rampart, arms availing nought, Alone he stemmed the tide of adverse war, And singly brought deliverance ; when the flame Curled round the ships, and lightened o'er the fleet, What time your naval trench stern Hector leaped Impetuous on the host ? Who checked him then ? Whose bold emprize was this ? Was it not his, Who ne'er, thou say'st, his fearless foot advanced? Nay, more ; with Hector matched in single strife By lot, and unconstrained, undaunted he Went forth to meet him, casting in the midst No fraudful lot, no 4 clod of kneaded clay, But that which bounding and elastic sprung From out the crested helmet. Such the deeds Of this bold chief. I, too, was present there, This slave, this barbarous mother's baseborn child. Wretch, with what view this insult didst thou aim? Dost thou not know, the father of that sire 4 Allusion is here made to the artifice practised by Cres- phontes, at the division of Peloponnesus among the He- raclidae, that Messenia might fall to his share. Probably, however, some stratagem actually practised by Menelaus is also referred to. See page 155. M 2 164 AJAX-. Who gave thee life, was Pelops, of old time A barbarous 5 Phrygian, and thy father too Was Atreus, vilest, guiltiest of mankind, Who his own brother at a banquet lured On his own sons to feed ; thy mother, too, A Cretan, whom the sire that gave her life Cast with her paramour to the wild waves, Food for the ravening monsters of the main? Born of such lineage, canst thou scorn my birth, Sprung from a noble sire, great Telamon, Who, best and bravest of the host approved, Took for the partner of his nuptial couch My mother — 6 her, too, born of royal race," Daughter of high Laomedon ? — such meed, By valour earned, to him Alcides gave. s Rather, a Lydian. The difference, however, is not ma- terial, as the boundaries of Phrygia and Lydia, which were adjacent provinces, cannot be accurately defined; Aerope, the mother of the Atridse, (who were the grandsons, not the sons, of Atreus,) was condemned to be thrown into the sea, on account of her infidelities, but preserved, and given in marriage to Plisthenes, the son of Atreus. 6 Hesione, daughter of Laomedon, whom Hercules, hav- ing rescued from a sea-monster, gave in marriage to his friend and associate, Telamon. ; A J AX. 165 Shall I, thus noble, and from parents sprung Thus noble, cease my kinsman to revere, Whom, prostrate in such miseries, thou wouldst leave Unsepulchred, nor blushest at the word ? But know thou well, if thou shalt cast him forth, Thou wilt cast forth us three, who kneel beside him. 'Tis better far, in honourable toil, To die with glory in my kinsman's cause, Than for thy wife's or for thy brother's sake. Enough — see not mine interest, but thine own. If thou dost work me wrong, ere long thou'lt wish E'en coward fear had curbed thy wrath to me. Enter Ulysses. ULYSSES, AGAMEMNON, TEUCER, TECMESSA, EURYSACES, CHORUS. Ch. In season, O King Ulysses, art thou come, So thou wilt quench, and not inflame the strife. Ulys. What is it, soldiers ? from afar if heard Th' Atridse clamorous o'er the hero's corpse. 166 AJAX. Agam. Have we not heard rude and unseemly- words, O Prince Ulysses, from this man before thee ? TJlys. What words? I blame not him, who, when he hears Upbraidings keen, in haughty tone replies. Agam. Such he hath heard ; for such his deeds deserved. TJlys. Why, what hath he achieved, to work thee wrong ? Agam. He will not leave this body unentombed ; But will, he says, in my despite inter it. TJlys. May, then, a friend presume to speak the truth, Yet, as before, thy hearty friendship share ? Agam. Speak ; I were senseless to forbid thy words, Whom of all Greece I count my firmest friend. TJlys. Then hear me. Do not unrelenting thus, By the great Gods, cast noble Ajax forth Unsepulchred, nor let ungoverned wrath Subdue thy calmer mood, and urge thee on Thus, in thy hate, to trample upon justice. In all our host, he was my deadliest foe, AJAX. 167 Since first Achilles' glorious arms were mine ; Yet him, of soul thus adverse, in such scorn I never can account, as to deny 7 Here lies the bravest of the Greeks who came — Except Achilles — to the Trojan towers ; Thus to degrade the chief would shame thyself. Not him alone, but Heaven's eternal laws, Wouldst thou contemn. Unjust it is to wrong The brave in death, though most abhorred in life. Agam. Dost thou, Ulysses, in his cause with- stand me ? Vlys. I do. I did but hate him while my hate Was sanctified by honour. Agam. Shouldst thou not Insult the lifeless corpse ? TJlys. Rejoice not thou, O son of Atreus, in ignoble triumphs. 7 This earth, that bears thee dead, Bears not alive so brave a gentleman. If thou wert sensible of courtesy, I should not make so great a show of zeal, But let thy favours hide thy mangled face. Adieu ! and take thy praise with thee to Heaven. Shakspeare, Hen. IV. 168 AJAX. Agam. No easy task is piety to Kings. Ulys. Kings should give way to sage and pru- dent friends. Again. The virtuous man should yield to those who rule. Ulys. Cease ; vanquished but by friends, thou still art victor. Agam. Remember well to whom such grace thou giv'st. Ulys. He was my foe, but still most truly noble. Agam. What wilt thou then ? Why dost thou thus revere A foe departed ? Ulys. On his virtue more I dwell, than on my hatred. Agam. By mankind, Those who thus reason oft are counted senseless. Ulys. They who are friendliest now, ere long may turn To bitterest foes. Agam. And wouldst thou make or praise Such friends ? Ulys. I praise not unrelenting souls. AJAX. 169 Agam. This day as cowards wilt thou brand us both! Ulys. Nay, but th' assembled Greeks will laud your justice. Agam. Thou dost persuade me then t' entomb the dead? Ulys. Yes; for the same drear grave awaits me too. Agam. How promptly each fulfils, what to his wish Is most congenial ! Ulys. What becomes me more For mine own welfare than to labour thus ? Agam. This shall be called thy deed — not mine. Ulys. As thou Shalt do, so all men will esteem thee righteous. Agam. Of this be well assured : such grace to thee, Or e'en a greater, I would promptly yield- But he, in life or death, alike shall share My just abhorrence. Work thy will in all. Ch. Whoe'er, Ulysses, lightly recks of thee, In soul and thought so noble, widely errs. Ulys. And thus to Teucer do I now proclaim, 170 AJAX. My friendship shall exceed my former hate. With him I wish t' entomb the mighty dead, Partake his labours, and 8 omit no rite That man can pay to grace his noblest peer. Ten. Noblest Ulysses, to thy words I yield My warm applause ; far hast thou passed our hopes ; Since thou, of Greece my brother's mortal foe, Alone stood'st forth to aid, nor hast endured The living thus should trample on the lifeless ; When that infuriate leader of the host, With his most worthy brother, willed to east The hero forth, — unhonoured— unentombed. For this may He who rules Olympus' brow, Th' Eternal Sire ;— may ever- wakeful Furies, And Justice, following with unerring step, Consign these villains to as base a doom, As for the chief their guilty aim designed. But thee, brave son of old Laertes, thee I may not grant our pious task to share ; Lest such an act offend the mighty shade ; 8 Let every honour to a soldier due Attend this hero to the tomb. AJAX, 171 In all beside befriend us. If thou send Some from the host our funeral task to aid, It will not be unwelcome. On my care All other rites devolve ; and know, I deem Thy deeds to us have been most truly noble. Ulys. My will had been to aid thee; since in this To share thy toil be less congenial deemed, I go, assenting promptly to thy thought. [Exit Ulysses. TEUCER, TECMESSA, EURYSACES, CHORUS. Teu. Enough ; much time is now consumed. For you, let some with duteous hand The hollowed trench prepare, — some rear The lofty tripod o'er the flame, For due ablutions meet ; let one Bear from the tent the Hero's arms, And martial garb of war. Thou, child, thy feeble strength exert ; Raise, — softly raise, — thy sire, and lift His side with care ; still the warm veins Through the wide gash exhale the sable gore. 172 AJAX. Advance, whoe'er of friendly soul Is nigh ; — haste, haste, — alas ! I deem Ne'er wilt thou this sad task perform For one of mortal birth more brave Than what was Ajax once. Ch. How much doth sage experience teach man- kind. But, ere he mark th' event, no prescient seer The issue of the future can foretell ! PHILOCTETES. PHILOCTETES. Simplicity, when it does not degenerate into tame- ness and insipidity, is among the most attractive graces of poetry; and it is less the indication of su- perior genius to have framed an elaborate and com- plicated plot, than to have erected, out of scanty and apparently indequate materials, the superstructure of an interesting poem. Thus, the single subject of the Iliad is the anger of Achilles, with the events naturally arising out of it, and the inferiority of the iEneid to that first production of human intel- lect is, in no respect, more strikingly evident than in the more diffuse and complex nature of the sub- ject. Thus, also, the CEdipus Tyrannus of our 176 PHILOCTETES. Author, though unrivalled for dexterity in the ma- nagement of the plot, and the developement of the catastrophe, is yet scarcely so bold and masterly an effort of genius as the drama before us ; the sole argument of which is the endeavour of Ulysses to wrest, by the agency of Neoptolemus, the invul- nerable arms from the custody of Philoctetes. The story of the son of Paeas is familiar, to the classical reader. Having been requited for his fidelity to the deified Hercules with the bequest of the hero's arms, he repaired with the confederate Greeks, as bound by oath, to the siege of Troy. There, either from the resentment of Juno on ac- count of the services he had rendered to Hercules, or, as other authors relate, in consequence of the evasion of a solemn oath, by which he had bound himself never to reveal the spot where the ashes of the hero had been deposited, he received a deadly wound in his foot, from the dropping of an arrow which had been tinged with the venom of the Lernsean hydra. So noisome was the odour issuing from his wound that his removal from the camp became a measure of imperative necessity, and he was accordingly allured, by Ulysses, on board a PH1L0CTETES. 177 galley, under the specious pretence of having his wound cured by the sons of iEsculapius, and trea- cherously left on a desert part of the Isle of Lem- nos. In this state of agony and desolation, with no witnesses of his misery but the inanimate objects around him, for which custom has taught him to cherish a kind of melancholy regard, has the un- happy exile lingered for upwards of nine years, supporting life only by the aid of his arms, and still nourishing, amidst his despair, the deadliest animosity against the traitors who had betrayed him. It is at this juncture that Ulysses and Neop- tolemus, who have been deputed by the Grecian chiefs to seize and convey him to Troy, (which cannot be taken without his assistance,) arrive upon the island ; — and here commences the business of the drama. If there be any spectacle peculiarly interesting to the observer of human nature, it is the contem- plation of a generous mind reluctantly yielding to the suggestions of artifice and duplicity; and, though seduced, for a moment, by the love of glory, into the commission of baseness, yet struggling with better feelings, till at last the native integrity VOL. II. iv 178 PHILOCTETES. of the honourable mind rises triumphant over the arts of the deceiver. Such a character is Neop- tolemus. Young, ingenuous, and upright, he re- coils with indignation from the smooth sophistry of artifice and fraud — he is only reconciled to it by the specious lure of fame — he perseveres in the deceit so long as he is encouraged by the presence of his wily confederate ; but when left to himself — to the silent remonstrances of conscience — the innate ge- nerosity of his heart resumes its ascendancy, nor can he consent to purchase his own glory and the welfare of Greece, at the price of his honour. We recognize in him all the lineaments of that high- souled and impetuous chief, to whom is attributed, by the Master-Poet, that memorable sentiment : — Who dares think one thing, and another tell. My soul detests him as the gates of hell. Scarcely less interesting, though under a very different aspect, is the character of Philoctetes himself. The lonely exile has become familiarized to misery without being resigned to it; all around him has assumed the desolate aspect of his own forlorn condition, and yet, without any hope of PHILOCTETES. 179 deliverance, the remembrance of his own country is the more endeared to him, as he is separated from it by a more hopeless and insuperable barrier. The ' Amor patrias' burns inextinguishably in his heart. The very garb of Greece is beauty to his eye ; the accents of a Greek are music to his ear. Absorbed as he might have been in the contempla- tion of his own sorrows, (and there is no teacher of selfishness like sorrow,) he has not yet forgotten his former companions and confederates in arms, and his inquiries after them are urged with a ten- derness and solicitude truly pathetic. Even the misanthrophic scepticism which he has imbibed is accordant with the general tone and temper of his mind; and, under such circumstances, a heathen may be excused for calling in question the impar- tiality and justice of the Gods. It was reserved for a more enlightened poet than Sophocles to de- liver that beautiful aphorism — All partial evil — universal good. This drama, however, possesses a beauty pecu- liar to itself. Scenic descriptions of the utmost richness and luxuriance are, indeed, interspersed n2 180 PHILOCTETES. throughout all the writings of Sophocles, but the drama before us presents by far the finest specimen of his descriptive talent. With admirable judge- ment he has put the delineation of the surrounding wildness and desolation into the mouth of Philoc- tetes, the sombre temper of whose mind would necessarily invest it with additional gloom. In- deed, throughout the whole drama, the prevailing charm is Nature ; and however destitute it may be of that which is calculated to gratify the sickly and vitiated taste of a modern audience, the ravings of guilty passion, and the declamation of tumid and unnatural heroism, we do not hesitate to main- tain, that so long as natural feeling, correct deli- neation, a lively exhibition of human character, and an intimate knowledge of the human heart, possess the power of awakening interest and ex- citing the affections, that power will belong, in an eminent degree, to the Philoctetes of Sophocles. DRAMATIS PERSONS Ulysses. Neoptolemus. Chorus. Philoctetes. Spy, disguised as a Merchant. Hercules. PHILOCTETES. ULYSSES, NEOPTOLEMUS. XJlys. This is the shore of that sea-circled land, Lemnos, x by mortal foot untrodden still, Uncheered by mortal dwelling — here, O son Of great Achilles, once our mightiest chief; — 1 It must not be inferred from this expression, that the whole island of Lemnos was uninhabited; the contrary being es- tablished by the authority of Homer, Odyss. viii. 283 ; but simply that part of the coast on which Philoctetes had been left, whose range, from the nature of his wound, could not have been very extensive. 184 PHILOCTETES. Here, Neoptolemus, in time long past, I left the son of Pceas, Melia's lord, At the high mandate of the brother kings ; When from his foot such noxious venom oozed., That nor in reverent silence to the Gods Libations could we pour, nor victims slay ; But through the camp his wild ill-boding shrieks Incessant echoed. — Yet what need of words Like these? — No time for tedious converse now, Lest he detect my coming, and I lose The train of wiles with which I think to snare him. Now 'tis thy task my purpose to subserve, And first seek out a cave, with double mouth So formed, that either end in winter's chill Receives the radiance of the genial sun ; And in the sultry summer cooling gales Breathe through the cleft, inviting soft repose. On the left hand thou mayst. at once descry A limpid fountain, if 'tis flowing still. Approach in silence, and inform me first If on this spot, or elsewhere, he resides ; That thou mayst hear, and I impart the rest Of my design, and thus our task be shared. Neop. No distant toil, Ulysses, dost thou give — Methinks I see the cave thou hast described. PHILOCTETES. 185 Ulys. Above us, or below ? I see it not. Neop. Tis that above — no trace of footsteps nigh. Ulys. Look, if reclined in sleep he rest within. Neop. To me the habitation seems devoid Of human tenant. Ulys. Is there nought within Formed for domestic uses ? Neop. Yes ; with leaves The cave is strewed, as one had there reposed. Ulys. Is all deserted — is there nought beside Beneath the rocky roof ? Neop. A drinking cup Of wood, by some rude workman roughly wrought ; With z implements to rouse the dormant flame. Ulys. The scanty store, of which thou speak'st, is his. Neop. Alas, alas ! here, drying in the sun, A few loose rags are laid, discoloured all With fetid gore. Ulys. Here then, beyond all doubt, The man resides, nor is he distant far ; a Ylvfuct.. — This word may either signify firewood, or the implements for striking fire. The latter supposition, as ap- pears from line 296, is the more probable. 186 PHILOCTETES, How should a wretch, with cureless wounds diseased, Traverse a lengthened space ? Or he hath gone To seek for food, or haply knows some herb Lenient to soothe the anguish of his wound. Send then this man to keep attentive watch, Lest sudden he surprise me,— whom of Greece He most desires within his reach to view. Neop. Nay, he is gone, and shall observe the path — If thou wouldst aught beside, unfold thy will. Ulys. Son of Achilles, it behoves thee now, In the good cause that led thee here, to act With firm resolve, and not in might alone ; But, when thou hear'st new schemes, untold before, To aid my plans, since for this end thou cam'st. Neop. What then dost thou enjoin me 1 Ulys. Thou must seek To win with wily and ensnaring arts The soul of Philoctetes. When he asks " Who art thou, and from whence ?" reply at once Achilles' son — this must not be suppressed. Say thou art sailing homeward, and hast left The naval host of Greece, with deadliest wrath Indignant, since they lured thee from thy home With prayers, as one to whose resistless arm PHILOCTETES. 187 Alone should Ilion yield ; — yet, when thou cam'st Demanding, as thy right, Achilles' arms, Disdained thy righteous plea, and gave the prize 3 To grace Ulysses. Pour upon my name The torrent of reproach and foulest scorn ; Thou wilt not pain me, but in all the Greeks Wilt strike deep sorrow, if thou act not thus. For know, unless we gain his darts, in vain Wouldst thou essay to storm the Dardan towers. — Learn now the cause, why converse with the man To thee is sure and safe, though not to me. Thou sailed'st hither, bound by 4 oath to none — 3 The contestconcerning the arms of Achilles was solely between Ajax and Ulysses ; we have no account that Neop- tolemus laid claim to them. As Philoctetes, however, had been absent during the whole affair, Ulysses was at liberty to substitute Neoptolemus in the room of Ajax, especially as his being the son of Achilles naturally justified his preten- sions to the arms of his father. The fiction was therefore probable . — Francklin . 4 The oath is related at large by Eurip. Iph. at Aul. All who engaged in this war under the obligations of this oath, that is — all who at first embarked with Agamemnon and Menelaus, were considered by Philoctetes as his enemies, in a conspiracy to expose him on that desert island. Neoptole- mus was not of that number ; he therefore had not offended the deserted chief. — Potter. 188 PHILOCTETES. By no severe necessity constrained — Nor with our former fleet — but nought of these By me can be denied. If with his bow- Equipped, he should perceive me, I am lost— And by my presence should ensure thy ruin. This, then, should first be warily contrived, How thou mayst steal by fraudful acts away Th' unconquerable arms. I know, my son, Thou com'st not of a race inured to speak In words like these, or forge insidious wiles — Yet think, for thee what joy to win the prize ! Dare then, — hereafter will we live to justice. 5 Now but for this brief day resign thy soul To me, for once suppress thy sense of shame, And ever after be the best of men. Neop. If but to hear such words offends mine ear, Son of Laertes, how I loathe the actions ! I am not framed to play a traitor's part, And my brave sire, Fame rumours, spurned at fraud. I stand prepared to seize the man by force, But not by falsehood ; on one foot sustained 'Twere strange if he could match our manly might. Da te hodie mihi. — Terence. Aclelph. v. 111. O'Z. PHILOCTETES; 189 And though, as thy confederate hither sent, 111 should I brook the false betrayer's name ; Yet know, O Prince, I deem it nobler far To fail with honour, than succeed by baseness. Ulys. Son of a noble sire, I thus in youth 6 Was ever slow in speech, and prompt in deed. Now, taught by long experience, I have learnt That words, not deeds, direct th' affairs of men. Neop. What hast thou bid me but to utter false- hood? Ulys. By fraud I bid thee seize on Philoctetes. Neop. And why by treachery rather than the means Of fair persuasion ? Ulys. Thou wilt ne'er persuade him, Nor capture him by force. Neop. What matchless might Inspires such confidence ? Ulys. Unerring darts Pointed with certain death. 6 Similar is the character drawn by Sallust, of Jugurtha, in the brighter part of his life. Plurimum facere, et minimum ipse de se loqui. So Shakspeare of Troilus :— Speaking in deeds, but deedless in his tongue. Act iv. Scene 2. 190 PHILOCTETES. Neop. And may none dare Ev'n to approach him ? Ulys. Tis most perilous, Unless, as now I counsel, thou surprize him. Neop. Dost thou not count it base to utter false- hood ? Ulys. No ; not, at least, when falsehood leads to safety. Neop. And with what front can one presume to speak In words like these ? Ulys. When our advantage calls Such scruples should be silenced. Neop. How can this Conduce to Ilion's downfall 1 Ulys. To these darts, And these alone, the Trojan towers can yield. Neop. Am not I then predestined to subvert them? Ulys. Nor thou without these darts — nor they apart From thee. Neop. If it be thus, they must be won. Ulys. This done, a two-fold recompense awaits thee. Neop. How ? — tell me this and I refuse no more. PHILOCTETES. 191 Ulys. Thou wilt be styled at once most brave and wise. Neop. Come on — despite of shame, I will per- form it. Ulys. Dost thou remember what I late advised 1 Neop. In once assenting, I remember all. Ulys. Thou then remain awaiting his return — I must away, lest he detect my presence ; Then to the ship 7 do thou despatch the spy. Here, too, if your return be long delayed, The same will I send forth, in pilot's garb Disguised, and in appearance so transformed, That to the exile he may seem a stranger. From whom, while dubious and perplexed his words, Catch thou, my son, what best may suit our pur- pose. 7 Musgrave proposes in this passage to substitute Kmo-Tuhuq for «tto3-teXw. Is it not more probable that uiroaru^ov is the true reading? Whence would arise the necessity of dis- guising the ctkottosj if Philoctetes had never seen him before ; which would be the case according to the received reading ? Doubtless, Neoptolemus would need some messenger to ' re- port progress.' 192 PHILOCTETES. I, trusting this to thee, will seek the ship ; May Hermes, God of wiles, be now our guide, And 8 conquering Pallas, Queen of rampired towns, Whose favouring presence evermore preserves me. [Exit Ulysses. NEOPTOLEMUS, CHORUS. STROPHE I. Ch. My Lord, a stranger in a foreign land, What to the wary exile should I speak, Or what suppress ? Instruct me thou. For art by art is baffled still, And judgement dwells in him who wields The sceptre of Immortal Jove. To thee, my son, from thy remotest line 8 Under the name of N'«)i Afiaxa, Minerva was worshipped in her temple on the Acropolis of Athens. — (Eurip. Ion. 1550.) She was called rioTuas, as being the foundress of that city ; though for what reason Ulysses should adopt snch an appel- lation in addressing her, it may be difficult to discover. Her favour and protection of him are well known. PHILOCTETES. 193 Descends such 9 sovereign sway. Then tell me now, How shall I aid thee here ? Nieop. Now — for thou haply seek'st to trace The spot in this far region where he lies — Explore it boldly. When he comes — The terrible wanderer — from the cave emerge, And, ever watchful of my beck, Be near to aid me, as my need demands, ANTISTROPHE I. Ch. Such was my care, O King, ere yet thou spak'st, To keep for thine occasion heedful eye ;— But tell me now in what abode He dwells, and where is wont to range ; For this, in sooth, 'twere timely now to learn* Lest unawares he haply cross my path, And thus evade my notice. — Say, what spot, And what abode is his ? — Where lies his path ?— 9 Kpeiroi uyvyiov — potestas ab atavis. From Qgyges, a very ancient King of Attica, or of Thebes, or, as some say, of the Gods, all ancient and venerable things were called uyvyia. Compare Persae iEsch. 71, (37,) 961; Eumen. 1034j Pindar Nem. vi. 75, Blomfield. VOL. II, 194 PHILOCTETES. Abroad, or in the cave ? Neop. Thou sees't his drear abode, where the cleft rock A double entrance forms. Ch. And whither roves the sad inhabitant? Neop. I doubt not, but in quest of food A path he I0 furrows, and is near us now ; Thus, Fame reports, his joyless life He still prolongs — with winged shafts Smiting the forest-prey, a hopeless wretch ! And none hath ever come To heal his festering wound. STROPHE II. Ch. His doom my liveliest pity wakes, By mortal voice uncheered — Bereft of sympathetic eye ; But ever lonely, ever sad, He strives with fell disease ; And oft in utmost need unaided pines, 10 'OytAevsi. — There is a peculiar beauty in this expression, which it is difficult adequately to convey in a translation.— " He trails his foot along so as to make a furrow in the ground." PHILOCTETES. 195 Cut off from every solace. How, O how Endures the wretch through all ? unavailing arts of men ! 1 O hapless generations of mankind. On whom fate sternly frowns ! ANTISTROPHE II. He, who perchance in virtue mates The noblest of his sires, Bereft of all that Nature needs, Pines sad and solitary here, 'Mid beasts that range the wood, a And birds of painted wing. Oppressed At once with pain and famine, he endures 1 Perhaps there does not occur in the whole compass of ancient or modern poetry a more pathetic sentiment than that exquisite passage of Euripides, Hipp. 369 — €1 novo) Tps<7To*&>.-— Commentators differ as to the precise sig- nification of this word. It may either denote well-equipped, or many-coloured. Musgrave's conjecture is more ingenious than judicious, who interprets it, 'manned with sailors of dif- ferent nations/ 206 PHILOCTETES. Urged more than all by fondness for the dead, To see him ere entombed, on whom, in life, It ne'er was mine to look. Next urged me, too, A worthy motive, e'en the thirst of fame, To go, and raze the lofty towers of Troy. When on my course the second morn arose, And to the loathed Sigaeum with swift oars I steered, around me, soon as disembarked, Flocked the whole host with greeting — vowing all That in his son Achilles yet survived. Alas ! he lay in death ! I — doomed to woe — When o'er his corpse some natural tears had fallen, Sought the Atridae, whom I deemed my friends, Claiming my father's arms, with all he had. Ye Gods ! with what base insult they replied— " Son of Achilles, all thy father's wealth " Is granted to thy claim, all, save his arms. " They grace another, e'en Laertes' son." I, bathed in tears, indignantly rejoined, " And have ye dared, injurious ! to award " My father's arms, ere mine assent obtained 1 " Ulysses, for he stood close by, replied : — " Nay, youth, in justice gave they those bright arms PHILOCTETES. 207 " 4 To me, who saved them and their master's corpse." I, fired to madness, answered with reproach, And called down every curse upon their heads, If he should dare bereave me of mine arms. He, thus reviled, though ever slow to wrath, Was galled by mine upbraidings, and replied : — " Thou wert not with us, but wert absent far " When need required thy presence. For these arms — " Since to such height thy vain resentment boils, " Ne'er, graced with them, shalt thou to Scyros sail." Thus hearing, and with shameless taunts reviled, I sail to Scyros — of mine own bereft By base Ulysses, vilest of the vile ; Though less with him than with the kings incensed. • Me miserum ! quanto cogor meminisse dolore Temporis illius, quo Graium murus Achilles Procubuit ! uec me lachrymae, luctusve, timorve Tardarunt, quin corpus humo sublime referrem. His humeris, his inquam, humeris ego corpus Achilles Et simul arma tuli. Ovid. Metana. xiii. 280. 208 PHILQCTETES. As on its ruler's will a city hangs, So the confederate host — those of mankind To honour lost, learn baseness from their lords. My tale is told. Whoe'er the Atridse loathes, Dear may he be to Heaven as loved by me. STROPHE. Ch. O mountain-loving Rhea, 5 nurse of all, Mother of mightiest Jove, Who dwell'st by rich Pactolus' golden stream, There, holiest mother, there Thee suppliant I implored, When on my chief th' Atridse wreaked This most injurious wrong ; When they his sire's resplendent arms bestowed— 5 Tlapgwri T«. TS,kx. Beat, fj^rep y.a.Y.u.yuv Svvituv r'ctvBputruv TI»vrpo(pe, ica.v'honapa.. Orph. Hymn. Thus Virg. iEn, vi. 495. — Terne omniparentis alumnum. Pactolus, a river of Lydia with golden sands. — So '■ auro turbidus Hermus." Peculiar honours were paid to Rhea, or Cybele, the Goddess here addressed, in Lydia and Phrygia. There is a remarkable propriety in the appeal to Rhea, as tu- telar Goddess of the country wherein they then were. PHILOCTETES. 209 (Thou ever blessed, whose proud car is drawn By slaughtering lions !) — when they gave The noblest trophy to Laertes' son ! Phi. Possessed, it seems, of cause for just offence, To this lone isle, O strangers, have ye sailed ; And can with me concur, that all these crimes From base Ulysses and th' Atridse spring. That man, I know, to all injurious words All evil acts is prompt — by which he deems To compass nought of justice in the end. This wakes not my surprise ; —my wonder is The elder Ajax bore to see this wrong. N.eop. He, stranger, was no more. While Ajax lived I had not thus been plundered of my right. Phi. What hast thou said? — Sleeps Ajax in the tomb? Neop. He sees no more the welcome light of life. Phi. Ah me unhappy 1 But for Tydeus' son, And the vile 6 bargain to Laertes sold 6 We have already adverted to the supposition that TTlysse* was the son of Sisyphus — VOL. ii. p 210 PHILOCTETES. By Sisyphus — these have not perished too 1 They were at least unfit for longer life. Neap. Not they, be well assured. They flourish still The first in honour mid the Argive host. Phi. But what — does he, the aged and the brave, My much-loved friend — does Pylian Nestor live ? He doubtless had by prudent counsels curbed Their guilty outrage. JSfeop. Yes ; he lives indeed, But lives in sorrow, since 7 Antilochus, His sole surviving son, in combat fell. The Sisyphian seed, By fraud and theft asserts his father's breed. Ov. Metam. xiii. 7 Antilochus was slain by Memnon, according to Homer. On the Phrygian plain Extended pale, by swarthy Memnon slain. Odyss. iv. The word (a.ovoz does not signify that Antilochus was the only son of Nestor, since we read of Pisistratus in the Odyssey, but the only surviving son of the two who had ac- companied him to Troy. PHILOCTETES. 211 Phi. Ah me ! how mournful thy report of two, Of whom such tale I least desired to hear : Ah ! whither, whither must I look, since these Have perished, and the vile Ulysses lives, Who hath so well deserved their doom of death ? Neop. A skilful combatant is he — but fraud Though skilful, Philoctetes, sometimes fails. Phi. Come, by the Gods, inform me where was he, Patroclus, thy brave father's dearest friend ? Neop. He too had fall'n. But I will tell thee all In one brief word — War never sweeps away The vile and worthless, but destroys the good. Phi. I do assent, and will for proof inquire Of a most worthless and detested wretch, Crafty and shrewd of tongue — how fares he now? Neop. Of other than Ulysses speak'st thou thus? Phi. I mean not him — there was a babbling fool Whom none could silence — 8 named Thersites — he, This worthy — know'st thou if he live and prosper? Neop. I never saw him-— but have heard he lives. Phi. Aye ; fit he should — for nothing vile is lost, Such the Gods visit with peculiar care — s For a description of Thersites, see Pope's II. ii. 265; p 2 212 PHILOCTETES. The wily and the traitorous they rejoice To rescue from the tomb, but ever send To that drear home the righteous and the good. How shall I judge, or how extol the Gods, Proved, by the actions I would praise, unjust? Neop. Son of GEtaean Pceas — henceforth I, Beholding from afar the Trojan towers And the Atridse, will of both beware. Where o'er the better still the worse prevails, And honour fades, and infamy is crowned,. Such men I never, never will revere. Henceforth for me shall Scyros' rocky isle Suffice — contented with my native home. Now to my ship I go. Thou, son of Pceas, Farewell, and be thou happier ! May the Gods Heal, as thy soul desires, this sad disease — We now depart, and soon as Heaven bestows A favouring breeze, will steer our homeward course. Phi. And will ye go, my son ? Neop. Time calls us now To watch beside the ship, not thus remote. Phi. Now by a father's, by a mother's love, My son ! by all thy home contains most dear, I come imploring — leave me not thus lone, Forsaken in the woes thine eyes behold, PHILOCTETES. 213 Which thou hast heard for ever I endure ; 9 Increase thy freight by me. I know, alas, Such load is most unwelcome — most abhorred, Yet, yet, endure it. To the nobly-born Is baseness hateful — honour is their pride. Foul shame it were on thee to leave me thus — But, O my son, what glory wouldst thou gain, Should I, yet living, reach th' (Etaean realms. Yield — 'tis not e'en the evil of a day. Assent — embark me — cast me where thou wilt — The hold, the prow, the stern — I reck not where — Where'er thy comrades I may least offend. Assent, my son ! By Jove, the suppliant's aid, O yield — thus prostrate at thy knees I fall Though most infirm and wretched. Leave me not On this lone strand, remote from human care ; — Oh ! save and bear me to thy friendly home, Or to Chalcodon's 10 loved Eubcean towers — 9 'Ev vrxgegyw Sa /*e, — Uot^eyov, " qui est przeter susceptum " opus ; ad susceptum opus additus." Evidently an addition to thy freight. By some, however, interpreted, " an over- " plus of toil." 10 Chalcodon, an ancient King of Eubcea. Vide Eurip. 214 PHILOCTETES. Not long my passage thence to (Eta's plains, The rocky heights of Trachis, and the flood Of clear Spercheius, where to my loved sire Thou mayst present me, if, indeed, the grave Have not withdrawn him from my gaze for ever. Ah ! oft to him, by those who voyaged here, Have I despatched my warm and earnest prayer, That, hither sending, he would bear me home. Or he is dead, or of the charge I gave Full lightly have they recked — the common lot Of wretchedness — and homeward sped their course. Now since to thee my own sad messenger I come — O save me, pity my despair, Viewing what miseries man must ever dread, His doom, how sealed in darkness — prosperous now, Now adverse. When unclouded by dismay Thy skies are bright, expect a sad reverse ; When man is blessed, let him well observe His life, lest, unawares, he sink to ruin. ANTISTROPHE. Ch. Have mercy, King ! for his sad tale is told Ion. II. iv. 464. Ta aru&pa. are properly the anchorage for ships. PHILOCTETES. 215 Of countless woes and keen — Such never, never, may my friends endure ! But if, O King, thou hat'st The Brother-Chiefs severe, Their baseness would I now convert To this poor exile's gain ; And since he long hath lingered joyless here, In my good galley would I bear him hence, To his loved home — by such a deed Evading too the ' vengeful wrath of Heaven. Neop. Beware ! lest thou this grace too promptly yield, And, when thou shar'st the evil of his pangs, Then with these words thy feelings ill accord. ®iuv vipio-w. Nsftso-K, the just and righteous anger of the Gods. Si genus humanum et mortalia temnitis arma, At sperate Deos memores fandi atque nefandi. Virg. JEn. i. 508. There was also the '§ovov %\ itgoanvaov. Compare Alcest, 1154, Monk's edit, in which there is a lucid and interesting note on the subject. 216 I*HILOCTETES. Cho. Distrust me not— it cannot, shall not be That thou should'st charge me with inconstant soul. Neop. I hold it most unseemly to appear Less prompt than thou to grant this timely aid. Sail we, if such thy purpose — let him come With speed — our ship shall bear him — for repulsed He shall not be. May Heaven but grant us hence A prosperous voyage to the land we seek. Phi. O day most welcome ! dearest of mankind ! Loved mariners — how, how shall I requite The mighty favour ye have promptly shown ? — Hence let us haste, my son, saluting first 2 My dark and drear abode, that thou may'st learn How scantly I have lived — how firmly borne ! Alas ! I deem, on agonies like these None, save myself, could even brook to gaze- But stern necessity hath taught me patience. Ch. Hist! let us learn what news — two men approach, a "Aoikov luomea-iv. Literally, my houseless abode. This is a striking instance of the fervent and habitual piety of the ancients. Philoctetes would not leave even this miserable abode, till he had adored the tutelary Gods. PHILOCTETES. 217 One from thy bark, and one in foreign garb Attired — these question — enter then the cave. Enter Merchant. Mer, Son of Achilles — of this mariner, Who, with two others, near thy ship kept guard, I asked where I might find thee, since I chanced To light upon thee thus — not by design, But driv'n by fortune to the self-same strand. Steering my bark, as master, light of freight, From Ilion homeward to the vine-clad isle 3 Of Peparethus ; — when I learnt the crew, Who now are sheltering in the road, were thine ; — I could not sail in silence, till I told Tidings which yet thou know'st not — and should'st know. 3 Peparethus is a small island in the JEgean sea, formerly noted for producing abundance of olives and wine. Nitidaeque ferax Peparethus olivae. Ov. Met. vii. 470. 'Ot> ttoX^w at'o'Ka may possibly mean with no numerous fleet, viz. with a single ship. 218 PHILOCTETES. Perchance thou'rt yet unconscious what imports Thy welfare — what the counsels of the Greeks To thee referring — counsels now no more, But deeds, commenced in act, if not fulfilled. Neop. Stranger, the service of thy generous zeal, Unless I am most base, shall long be owned. But now the purport of thy tidings tell, What recent plot of Greece 'gainst me thou bearest. Mer. Some have already sailed with naval force Charged to pursue thee — Phoenix, hoar with age, And Theseus' martial sons. Neop. To bear me back By violence or persuasion ? Mer. This I know not — I came but to inform thee what I heard. Neop. Doth Phoenix, then, and do his comrades dare This arduous deed to please the sons of Atreus ? Mer. Know, 'tis already done — there is no pause, Nor lingering here. Neop. Why did Ulysses then Withhold his ready service— was he checked By salutary fear ? Mer. He, with the son Of Tydeus on like enterprize was bound, PHILOCTETES. 219 When from the port I weighed. Neop. For whom, save me, Thus did Ulysses sail ? Mer. Aye, there was one — but first Inform me who is this — and what thou say'st Speak in low voice. Neop. This man, O stranger, is The noble Philoctetes. Mer. Say no more, But hoist thy sail, and speed thee from the land. Phi. What doth he tell, my son? with words obscure 4 Why seeks this mariner to betray my hopes ? Neop. I know not yet — but let him frankly speak Alike to thee, and me, and these beside us. Mer. Son of Achilles, that to thee I breathe Forbidden words, relate not to the host, From whom, for aid a lowly man may lend, I bear an ample largess. Neop. I abhor The sons of Atreus — this man is my friend, My dearest friend, in that he hates them too. Literally, why does he buy and sell me in his words? 220 PHILOCTETES. But since thou cam'st in friendship, of the tale Which thou hast heard, I pray thee nought conceal. Mer. Look to thine actions. Neop. I long since have looked. Mer. The blame be wholly thine. Neop. It shall — but speak. Mer. I will. The two bold chiefs, e'en as thou hear'st, The son of Tydeus and Ulysses sage, Bound by an oath have sailed, to bring this man A captive, by persuasion, or by force. This all the Greeks in open day have heard Ulysses vaunt — for greater trust was his To win his purpose, than his comrade owned. Neop. And for what cause, such lengthened space elapsed, Would the Atridae now regard the wretch Whom for long years to exile they consigned ? What need invades them now? What heavenly might, What righteous wrath avenging impious deeds ? Mer. I will recount the whole, since haply thou Art uninformed — There was a certain Seer, Of race illustrious, Priam's royal son, And Helenus his name, whom he that hears PHILOCTETES. 221 From eveiy tongue deserved and keen reproach, The base Ulysses, as he prowled alone By night, took captive, and his prisoner brought Before th' assembled Greeks, a noble prey, Who then with other mysteries this revealed : -Ne'er should they raze the lofty citadel Of Troy so long besieged, till they should lure, By smooth persuasion from the rocky isle Where now he dwells, this warrior here before thee. When thus Ulysses heard the seer proclaim, He promptly pledged his faith that he would seek This man, and bring him to the Grecian host, And, as he deemed, with unreluctant mind ; If not, by violence. — Should he fail in this, His head should pay the forfeit of his failure. Thou hast heard all, my son ! I warn thee now To speed thy flight, with all who share thy love. Phi. Wretch that I am ! This villain, most accursed, Hath he then sworn to lure me back to Greece? s As soon shall he persuade me, when no more, 5 Sisyphus, on the approach of death, charged his wife, Merope, one of the Atlantides, to leave his body unburied. 222 PHILOCTETES. Like his false father, to return to earth. Mer. Of this I nothing know, but to my ship Depart. The Gods aright direct you both ! [Exit Merchant. PHILOCTETES, NEOPTOLEMUS, CHORUS. Phi. Is it not galling that Laertes' son Should hope by wily blandishments again To lure me hence, and show me to the Greeks ? O never ! Rather would I lend mine ear To the fell viper, which hath maimed me thus.— But all things he will say, and all things dare, And now I know too surely he will come. But let us hence — that soon the wide, wide sea May foam 'twixt us and loathed Ulysses' bark. Come — let us hence — for timely speed full oft, Arriving in Pluto's kingdom, he requested and received per- mission to return, in order to punish this seeming impiety of his wife, on condition of revisiting hell without delay. No sooner, however, was he out of the iufernal regions, than he violated his oath, but was afterwards brought back by Mars, and punished. PHILOCTETES. 223 The toil accomplished, yields a glad repose. Neop. Soon as the gale, fresh blowing towards the prow, 6 Subsides, we'll hence — the wind is adverse now. Phi. The winds are ever fair to him who flies From wretchedness. Neop. Fear not — this breeze to them Is adverse also. Phi. No adverse winds Deter the pirate from his purposed course, On plunder bent, and fired by lawless prey. Neop. Well, since thou wilt, we sail, when from within Thou hast provided all thy need demands, Or wishes prompt. Phi. One thing my need demands, Though scant my store. Neop. What canst thou need, beyond Our bark to furnish ? Phi. I possess a herb With which the deadly wound I oft assuage, 6 The Scholiast here reads «y55 for a»v. If this be the true reading, it must be quasi ia.y*, from ayvv^, frango. .- 224 PHILOCTETES. And mitigate the anguish. Neop. Bring it then — Would'st thou take aught beside ? Phi. I must beware, Lest one of these dread arrows should escape, For mortal hands to find. Neop. Is this, which now Thou bear'st, the far-famed bow ? Phi. Yes ; aught besides Were stranger to this hand. Neop. And may I dare To bring it closer to my lips — to hold — And 7 kiss the sacred relic as divine? Phi. To thee, my son, both this, and aught beside Of mine that may delight thee, shall be done. Neop. Such is indeed my wish, though but indulged 7 U^ocrnvacct. This word here signifies to kiss, though in v. 766, (Erfurdt,) it denotes to appease or mitigate by adoration, the anger of the Gods. Among the ancients, (as well as the modern Orientals,) a kiss was considered the greatest mark of veneration and respect. Et dare sacratis oscula liminibus. Tib. Eleg. i. v. 44. Compare also Cic. in Ver. Lib. iv. 43. Virg. j£n. ii. 490. PHILOCTETES. 225 With this control — if it be just — I wish ; If not, pass thou my wish unheeded by. Phi. Thy words are pious, son !— 'tis justfor thee — Thee, who alone hast giv'n me to behold The sun's broad light, my own (Etean land, My aged father, and my much-loved friends ; And bidst me rise triumphant o'er my foes. Doubt not — 'tis freely thine to touch the bow ; And when thou hast restored it, boast that thou Alone of men hast grasped the sacred arms, The guerdon of thy virtue. I myself By constant friendship won th' immortal gift — It will not grieve me then that thou, my friend, Should'st view and bear it. He who knows to pay A due return for benefits received Is a true friend, the dearest earthly good. Neop. Now should'st thou go within. Phi. Aye — and within Will lead thee too, for this my sad disease Longs to receive thee as its firm support. [Exeunt Neoptolemus and Philoctetes. VOL. II. 226 PHILOCTETES. Chorus. STROPHE I. Yes ! I have heard in tale, yet ne'er have seen, What hopeless anguish he was doomed to feel, Who sought the couch of Jove's Imperial Queen, Chained by the Thunderer on the 8 whirling wheel ; — But none have known, none viewed, of all man- kind, Like this sad exile, to despair consigned, Who, though for guilt, for fraud unblamed, For justice 'mid the righteous famed, In shame and sorrow thus hath pined ! Ah ! much I marvel how he bore To list the wild waves' sullen roar ; The only sound of life— yet still Lived on to keener pangs and deadlier ill : — ANTISTROPHE I. Sole tenant of the shore — scarce faltering on 8 "Apwvxx. Originally, the fillet used by women to bind up their hair ; and hence taken, from its round form, to signify a wheel. Musgrave proposes, however, to read uvrvyci. PHILOCTETES. 227 With powerless step — no human succour near; No partner of his woe to heed the groan Wrung from his bosom by that pang severe ; None, when his wound poured forth th' envenomed flood To stanch with soothing herbs the feverish blood, Herbs culled from earth's maternal breast, Potent to win a transient rest ! — For when to sleep awhile subdued His pangs relax — as, yet untried To wander from its mother's side, Alone the infant seeks to stray ; — He crawls with faltering foot his weary way. STROPHE II. No fruits for him provides the sacred soil, No golden grain requites his patient toil, He can but aim the winged shafts on high From that far-sounding bow, And for his hunger win a scant supply. 9 KxKoynrm. Not a bad neighbour, but a neighbour to evil. It must, however, be confessed, that the word does occasionally bear the former sense. KuKoyhroves £%6go*. — Callim. Q 2 228 PHILOCTETES. Ah joyless soul ! ten lingering years succeed, And still, uncheered by wine's enlivening glow, He seeks the stagnant waters, sad and slow, Where chance his path may lead ! ANTISTROPHE II. Again for him shall joy resplendent shine, From woe to greatness raised — of royal line A youth encountering now, who o'er the flood, In galley swift of flight, — The long, long months fulfilled — to his abode Shall bear the exile, where the Melian choir Dwell by Spercheius™ where from (Eta's height The brazen shielded chief to realms of light IO Rose in celestial fire. Neap. Crawl forth, if such thy pleasure. — Where- fore thus Silent without a cause, and sudden struck As if with mute amazement ? Phi. Woe is me ! Neop. What ails thee? Phi. Tis a trifle. Come, my son! 10 The apotheosis of Hercules, which took place on Mount CEta, is here adverted to. PHILOCTETES. 229 Neop. Arise fresh sufferings from thy present plague ? Phi. No, no, in sooth ; I tread more lightly now — Alas ! ye Gods ! Neop. Why thus with bitter groans Invoke the Gods ? Phi. That they be present now, Our guardians and preservers. Ha ! that pang — Neop. What anguish wrings thee — wilt thou not confess ? — Still silent ? Some fresh ill, it seems, hath seized thee! Phi. I die, my son ! no longer can I quell This maddening pain. Ha! there! again it thrills, Thrills to my inmost soul. Wretch that I am! My son, my son, I perish, I am racked — (Repeated and violent groans.) Hast thou a sword, my son ? For Heaven's dear sake, With friendly hand strike off this wretched foot ; Quick — smite it off — 'and spare not life itself. Erfurdt reads this passage (mi (pUan @id,;, Spare not force. The reading we have adopted appears preferable, as it is a 230 PHILOCTETES. Neop. What strange and sudden pang hath seized thee now, That thus thou utterest wild and bitter cries? Phi. Know'st thou, my son?— Neop. What is it ? Phi. Know'st thou, son? — Neop. Know what? Phi. Dost thou not know? how know'st thou not?— % Woe ! woe is me ! Neop. The burden of thy pangs Is heavy on thee now ! more appropriate conclusion to the impassioned ravings of the unhappy sufferer. 2 " Unless all the commentators be mistaken," says the Oxford Prose Translator, " these expressions, and the thikihixiv of iEschylus, are positive nonsense." We should rather be inclined to suppose that all the commentators were mistaken, than that either Sophocles or iEschylus could write positive nonsense. When we consider the copiousness of the Greek language, we surely need not wonder that it cannot be adequately rendered by the paucity of our own. Had our barbarian Shakspeare written in Greek, he would, doubtless, have surpassed iEschylus and Sophocles as far as he excels every modern dramatic poet, though even in this case it would not be a necessary consequence that he should altogether have discarded interjections. PHILOCTETES. 231 Phi. Heavy indeed ! No words can paint it — yet — O pity me! Neop. What can I do to aid thee? Phi. Do not thou In wild amaze betray me to my foes. The pangs revive by starts — perchance, ere long, They will have run their course, and cease. Ah me ! Neop. Unhappy man ! thine anguish wakes my pity- Proved most unhappy in thy countless ills. Shall I uphold thee with sustaining hand ? Phi. No, no ; not thus— but take these hallow- ed arms, As thou didst seek to hold them, till the pangs That rend me now, exhausted, shall subside; Take thou, and guard them well. Slumber is wont To seize and soothe me when the pangs are o'er ; Nor can I rest till then — but I must lie In undisturbed repose. And if, meantime, My foes approach, I charge thee by the Gods, Nor by assent, nor force, nor any means, To yield these arms to them, lest thou consign Both me, thy suppliant, and thyself to death. Neop. Be calm, and trust my caution—- to no hand, Save to mine own and thine, shall they be given. 232 PHILOCTETES. Yield them with favouring omens to my care. Phi. Receive them, my son. But pay thy vows To Envy, lest they prove the source of woe, As they have been to me and were to him Their first and great possessor. Neop. Grant, ye Gods! Such may my fortune be — and may our course Be swift and prosperous, where disposing Heaven Wills in its justice, and my bark is bound. Phi. O but, I fear, thy prayers are breathed in vain. Alas, my son ! Once more th' ensanguined stream from this deep wound Is oozing fresh, and keener pangs impend. Ah me ! Ah me ! Why, cursed foot, why dost thou thus torment me? Ah ! it steals on — It comes — it comes — 'tis here — Wretch that I am ! Thou seest my sad estate. Ah ! fly me not ! O that like pangs might rend thy guilty breast, Stranger of Cephallene. — Ah ! I groan Again — and yet again. — O brother chiefs O Agamemnon, Menelaus, that ye PHILOCTETES. 233 Could feel the anguish I have felt so long ! Death — death — so oft, so long invoked in vain, Day after day, wilt thou not come at last? My son, my noble son, afford thine aid. Ah burn me, burn me, in the flames that 3 curl Around us, generous youth ! Such task as I For these good arms, which now thou keep'st, dis- charged To Jove's great son, do thou the same for me. What say'st thou, son ? What say'st thou? wherefore mute? alas, where art thou? Neap. I mourn in pity to behold thy woes. Phi. Ah ! be not thou dejected — with such pangs The fit comes on, and is as quickly past. But, I conjure thee, leave me not alone. Neop. Cheer thee ! we will remain. Phi. And wilt thou stay? Neop. Account it certain. Phi. By an oath to bind thee, 3 We do not read here uvcLxuhvpsva, as in Erfurdt's edition, but, according to Brunck, uvomviChiipLva. The isle of Lemnos appears to have emitted volcanic fires, which is probably the reason why it was consecrated to Vulcan. 234 PHILOCTETES. I should disdain, my son ! Neop. Justice, at least, Would now forbid me to depart without thee. Phi. Pledge me thy hand. Neop. I do, I will remain. Phi. Now thither— thither— Neop. Whither dost thou mean. Phi. Upwards — Neop. Thou rav'st again — why dost thou gaze Thus wildly on the azure vault of heaven ? Phi. Release, release me! Neop. Whither thus release thee — Phi. Release me now. Neop. I will not yet release thee. Phi. Thou wilt destroy me, if thou touch me still. Neop. Lo, now I leave thee to thyself, and what Is yet thy purpose? Phi. Take, O take me, Earth, Expiring to thy bosom, for this plague Will leave me strength to stand upright no more. Neop. Sleep, it should seem, ere long will soothe his woes. His powerless head already droops to earth ; And his whole frame a copious sweat bedews. PHILOCTETES. 235 Lo ! in his foot one black and ruptured vein Emits the gore. Now leave we him, O friends, That sleep may soothe him in a bland repose ! STROPHE. Ch. 4 Sleep, gentle sleep, in pain, in griefs un- taught, Come with thy softest gales, — O peace-imparting Power! Veil from his eyes the 5 broad red glare of day ; Come, healing God, O come! — Look well, my son, or where thou pause, Or whither move — and when occasion asks My willing aid ! The gales invite, And why delay the deed? To seize aright th' important hour Avails to prompt success 4 This passage, beautiful as it is, is excelled by those ex- quisite lines of Euripides : '£1 (pIXov virvu BeKyyirpoi/, iirwupov voaa £lq rioii p,eu wpocriJJw'Ej ev oBovri yi. £1 Trorna Twivri tuv Kaauv, uc, tl, a~o(pri } Ka< Tojcrt avo-rvyiio-iv ivuraia. &£oj. Eurip. Orest, 205. (Porson's edit.) 5 Some, including Erfurdt, read here k-friv for a»yX«», which would altogether invert the sense of the passage— " Stretch over his eyes the mist of darkness." 236 PHILOCTETES. Beyond sage counsel, or superior might. Neop. Nay, nought he hears. I know, if he re- main, In vain we seize his arms and sail to Troy; To him this crown belongs — -we bear him hence By Heaven's command — and 6 'tis a base reproach To vaunt with falsehood promise unredeemed. ANTISTROPHE. Ch. For this, my son, for this let Heaven pro- vide — But when again thou speak'st, In low and whispered tone Reply, my son ! the slumber of disease Is light and watchful still, — But thou, far as thou may'st, explore For me the purpose which is labouring now Deep in thy breast concealed. Thou know'st The man of whom I speak; And, if thy thought with his accord, Tis wisdom's part to trace The depth of counsels that perplex the simple. 6 Some understand these words as referring to Ulysses, others, to Philoctetes. Brunek, whom we have followed, inclines to the former opinion. PHILOCTETES. 237 The gale, the gale is ours — in slumber, still As midnight rest, he lies. Be sleep, of fear 7 Devoid, our aid, enchaining hand, foot, heart. He looks as of the dead. Thy bidding speak — 8 This task, O son, my prudence can perform; Toil most avails, when most of fear devoid. Neop. Peace — peace — I charge thee, from such thoughts refrain ; For lo, — his eyelids move — he lifts his head. Phi. O light to sleep succeeding ! faithful care Of these kind strangers far beyond my hope! I never deemed, my son, that thou wouldst bear With constant pity mine unrivalled ills, And still thy presence and thine aid bestow. Such toil those noble and right worthy chiefs, Th' Atridae, never had thus lightly brooked ; But thou, a gallant father's generous son, Dear youth ! with stedfast soul hast promptly borne My groans — and fetid odours of my wound. 7 We concur with Reiske and Musgrave in reading £$m for «Ae»j?. 8 This is a very perplexed passage : it appears to convey a hint of the ease with which Philoctetes might be seized when asleep. The obscurity is evidently designed. 238 PHILOCTETES. Now, since this genial sleep has kindly lent Brief respite from my sufferings, O my son, Raise me from earth, and fix me on the ground, That, when the anguish ceases, we may go To our good ship — nor yet delay our course. Neop. Much I rejoice to see, beyond my hopes, Thine eye to light, thy frame from pain restored. Thy pangs regarding, and that death-like rest, I deemed, in sooth, thy latest hour was nigh. Raise now thyself — or, if it please thee more, These will support thee, nor refuse the toil, So thou assent, and I command their service. Phi. I thank thee, son, and raise me as thou say'st — But leave thy crew, lest, ere our need demands, The fetid odours reach them ; — 'tis enough To bear such loathsome comrade in their bark. Neop. This as thou wilt, but rise, and lean on me. Phi. Courage ! I will, as is my wont, arise. Neop. Ye Gods ! I waver— what should next be done? Phi. My son, what mean'st thou? whither tends thy speech? Neop. I know not whither I should turn my words, Perplexed and dubious ! PHILOCTETES. 239 Phi. Dost thou speak of doubt? Nay, talk not thus, my son. Neop. Yet even now In such am I involved ! Phi. Hath then the ill Of my disease impelled thee to withhold The passage promised late ? Neop. All must be ill When man the bias of his soul forsakes, And does a deed unseemly. Phi. But I know Nought of thy sire unworthy wilt thou do In granting aid to one not wholly worthless. Neop. I shall appear a villain — hence my grief. Phi. Tis not thy deeds, thy words excite my terror. Neop. Great Jove direct me ! Shall I twice be proved A villain, first concealing sacred truth — Then uttering words of falsehood? Phi. Or my fears Deceive me, or this man designs to sail And leave me here, abandoned and betrayed. Neop. I will not leave thee — 'tis my liveliest fear Lest to thy sorrow I should bear thee hence. 240 PHILOCTETES. Phi. What dost thou mean, my son? Thy words perplex me. Neop. Nought will I hide. Thou must away to Troy, To the Atridse and the host of Greece. Phi. Ah me! what say'st thou? Neop. Till thou hear'st, be calm. Phi. What must I hear ; what is thy purpose now ? Neop. First from thine ills to rescue thee— then sail To raze with thee the haughty towers of Troy. Phi. Is this indeed thy sure and settled aim? Neop. Necessity constrains me to the deed. Hear then in calmness, and thy wrath restrain. Phi. Ah! I am lost — betrayed. What hast thou done? O stranger — quickly give me back my arms. Neop. It cannot be. Justice and interest both Constrain obedience to superior power. Phi. 9 Thou blasting flame ! Thou horror of my soul! 9 The Scholiast, with his usual felicity of conjecture, in- terprets this as an execrable pun on the name of Pyrrhus, in which he has been followed by Brumoy, who paraphrases it, PH1L0CTETES. 241 Thou loathed inventor of atrocious fraud ; What hast thou done — how wronged my easy faith ? Doth it not shame thee to behold me thus, A suitor and a suppliant, wretch, to thee ? Stealing my bow, of life thou hast bereft me. Restore, I pray thee, O my son, restore it ! By thine ancestral Gods, take not my life ! Wretch that I am ! he deigns not e'en reply, But still looks backward, as resolved to spurn me. 10 Ye ports, ye beetling crags, ye haunts obscure Of mountain-beasts, ye wild and broken rocks, ^o you I mourn, for I have none beside \ To you, who oft have heard me, tell the wrongs, The cruel deeds Achilles' son hath wrought ! Pledged to convey me home, he sails to Troy — Plighting his hand in faith — he meanly steals My bow, the sacred arms of Jove's great son; *' O rage digne de ton nom." Both the Scholiast and his imi- tator appear to have forgotten, that the son of Achilles was known only to Philoctetes by the name of Neoptolemus. 10 Daphni, tuum Poenos etiam ingemuisse leones, Interitum, montesque feri sylvaeque loquuntur. . Virg. Ec. v. 27. VOL. II. R 242 PHILOCTETES. And would display them to the Grecian host. By force he takes me, as some vigorous chief, Nor knows his triumph is achieved o'er one Long- helpless as the dead — a shadowy cloud — An empty phantom. In my hour of might He ne'er had seized me thus, since, in my ills, He but by fraud entrapped me. I am now Deceived to my despair. What shall I do ? Ah! yet restore them, be again thyself. What dost thou say? — Yet silent? — Then I perish. Thou double portal of the rock, again, I enter thee, of arms, of life, deprived ; — But I must pine forsaken in the cave ; Nor winged bird, nor mountain-ranging beast, Shall these good darts bring down. I yield in death To those a banquet, who supplied mine own ; They whom I once pursued shall hunt me now ; While with my blood their slaughter I atone, Betrayed by one who seemed the soul of honour. I will not curse thee, ere I learn, if yet Thou wilt relent— if not, all evil blast thee ! Ch. What do we, King! we wait but thy com- mand, To sail— or yield to this poor exile's prayer? PHIEOCTETES. 243 Neop. On me, indeed, compassion strongly fell Long since, when first his piteous tale I heard. Phi. Have mercy on me, by the Gods, my son ! Shame not thyself in thus beguiling me. Neop. What shall I do ? — Oh had I never left My native Scyros ! this unworthy deed Is hateful to me. Phi. No ; thou art not base, Though lessons of dishonour hast thou learnt From evil men. To others leaving now Such arts, sail hence, restoring first mine arms. Neop. What, comrades, shall we do? [Extending the Bow to Philoctetes. Ulysses rushes on the ULYSSES, PHILOCTETES, NEOPTOLEMUS, CHORUS. Ulys. What wouldst thou do, O vilest of mankind ? Wilt thou not hence, The sacred arms resigning to my hand ? Phi. Ha! who is this? — Ulysses do I hear? Ulys. Aye! I, who stand before thee, am Ulysses. Phi. O! I am sold, undone. This is the wretch Who snared, and hath despoiled me of mine arms. r 2 244 PHILOCTETES. Ulys. 'Tis I, in sooth — none else. I own the deed. Phi. Restore, resign the arms to me, my son. Ulys. This, did he wish, he would not dare to grant. But thou must hence with us, or these around By force shall drag thee. Phi. Villain! of the vile At once the vilest, and most daring too, Shall these by force constrain me ? Ulys. Aye! unless Thou go spontaneous. Phi. O thou Lemnian land! Thou all-controlling flame, by Vulcan framed, Can wrong like this be borne, and shall he dare To force me from thy shelter? Ulys. It is Jove, Yes, Jove, supreme controller of the land, Jove thus hath willed — and I but do his will. Phi. Detested wretch ! what falsehoods dost thou frame ! The Gods alleging — thou dost tax the Gods With lies, to gloss thine own dissembling guile. Ulys. No ; they are ever true. Yet, in this way, Thou must proceed. PHILOCTETES. 245 Phi. I will not. Ulys. But thou shalt — Thou must obey. Phi. Ah ! what a doom is mine ! Did then my sire beget me as a slave, And not the heir of freedom ? Ulys. Nay, not thus ; But mated with the noblest; — leagued with whom Thou must take Troy, and raze her towers to earth. Phi. O never! were I doomed to every woe, While yet for me this lofty shore stands firm. Ulys. What wilt thou do then ? Phi. I will cast me down From rock on rock, and bathe my brow in blood. Ulys. Ho — seize him — lest he execute his threat. Phi. What do ye suffer, O my hands ! deprived Of your loved bow — by this base wretch ensnared. O thou, whose wisdom claims no kindred tie With honour and with freedom, with what wiles Hast thou beguiled me, with what arts deceived ! Making this youth thy tool — unknown to me — Unworthy to partake thine infamy — Of my regard more worthy, who but knew, Without a thought, to work thy base command. Remorse, I see, corrodes his bosom now 246 PHILOCTET'ES. For his own guilt, and grief for my despair. Thy faithless soul, for ever versed in wiles, Alike against his nature and his will, Hath well foretaught him to be wise in guilt. And now, O wretch ! thou deem'st to drag rae, bound, From this drear cavern, where thyself exposed me, Deserted — friendless — from my home afar — A corpse among the living. Vengeance blast thee I Ah ! oft for this due vengeance have I prayed, But Heaven to me accords no favouring boon, And thou liv'st on exulting, while I pine A very wretch, involved in countless ills, To thee a mockery, and the brother-Kings, The sons of Atreus, whose base tool thou art. 1 Thou, by their wiles ensnared, and bound by oath, Didst share th' emprize. Me, of mine own free will, Who sailed to battle with my 2 seven good ships, 1 Ulysses, unwilling to go among the other Greeks to the siege of Troy, feigned himself mad ; but, being detected by Palamedes, was obliged to join them. — Francklin. 1.7TTCC. HtUV. Horn. II, ii. PHILOCTETES. 247 Have they thrust forth to exile, as thou say'st, Charging on them the crime they charge on thee. And now why seek me? Wherefore drag me hence? I, who am nothing, dead long since to you ! How, thou wretch, most hateful to the Gods ! Am I not lame, my wound offensive still ? How can ye serve the Gods in prayer ? — how slay The votive victims, if I share your bark ? How pour libations due? Such was the plea On which ye first expelled me. Curses on ye ! Ye, who have wronged me thus, yourselves shall meet An equal doom, if Heaven cares aught for justice. I know, I know it does, for never else Would ye have voyaged for a wretch like me, Had not a goad from Heaven itself constrained you. J But, O my father-land, all-seeing Gods ! Avenge, avenge me in your own good time On all my foes, if ye, indeed, have aught Of pity for a wretch, who pines in ills, 3 Wakefield reads here, ii vvpur) yii — conjecturing that Philoctetes meant to apostrophize the land of Lemnos. The conjecture, like most of the same editor, is ingenious but fanciful. 248 PHILOCTETES. Worthiest of pity. Could I see them fall, I think my pangs would never wake again ! Ch. Stern is the stranger, and his words are stem, Ulysses, and he will not bend to ills. Ulys. Much to his passionate speech could I reply If time were meet ; — one word must now suffice. When Greece needs men like this, such then am I — When just and pious men th' emergence asks, None wilt thou find more pious than myself. Tis still my wish to triumph over all Excepting thee — to thee I promptly yield. [To the Chorus. Release your charge, nor hold him longer thus : Let him remain. We have no need of thee, [To Philoctetes. So but thine arms are ours, — since in the camp Teucer is present, practised in this art; — I, too, am no less skilful than thyself To bend the bow, and aim th' unerring shaft. What ask we then of thee ? Back to thy cave, And pace with sullen tread the Lemnian isle ; Let us away— perchance this prize for me May win the fame to thee by Heaven assigned. Phi. Ah me ! what can I do ? And shalt thou shine PHILOCTETES. 249 Glorious 'mid Greece, with these mine arms adorned ? Ulys. Answer me not, for I am now departing. Phi. Son of Achilles, shall thy voice no more Address me — but wilt thou, too, leave me thus? Ulys. Retire, nor heed him, generous as thou art, Lest woman-pity mar our better fortune. Phi. Will ye, too, strangers, leave me thus for- lorn, A wretch abandoned, nor have pity on me ? Ch. This youth is our commander — what to thee He shall reply, the same we answer too. Neop. Ulysses will reproach me, as too prone To weak compassion — yet, if such his will Remain, till in the ship our mariners Are ready, and our vows to Heaven are made. Meantime his purpose, haply, he may change More to our profit ; — haste we now away ; Ye, when we call, with speed obey the summons. STROPHE I. Phi. O dwelling of the caverned rock, By changing seasons cheered, or cooled, How am I then, unhappy ! doomed Never to quit thy drear abode ; 250 PH1LOCTETES. But thou wilt be my shelter ev'n in death. Woe, woe is me ! O cheerless cave, replete With all that wrings the joyless breast, Whence shall my daily food Be won, and to my need Who shall extend relief; — what cheering hope 1 4 O would the direful brood Of Harpies, flapping hoarse their sounding wings, Waft me aloft, for I can bear no more ! STROPHE II. Ch. Thou, thou alone, unhappy! on thine head Hast drawn these woes — no other hand On thee hath wreaked this doom — When wisdom called thee to decide, Thy free election chose the heavier ill. 4 There is much diversity of opinion respecting the true reading of this passage. Aldus has irruiuthq; Gedicke, ir\u- tahq. Several other conjectures are made by the Scholiast. Vossius, however, considers wnwa&j (from the obsolete word vrTutiv, cadere) the preferable reading, which, Erfurdt says, he embraces for want of a better. The allusion is probably to the Harpies. PHILOCTETES. 251 ANTISTROPHE I. Phi. I then, a wretch, a hopeless wretch, "Wasted by ever-gnawing pangs, From henceforth in extremest woe, Torn from the converse of mankind, Here must abide and perish— Ah what doom Of misery — No more with food supplied, With winged shaft and vigorous hand Seizing the prey no more : But unsuspected fraud And wily words my cooler sense beguiled. Ah ! could I see the wretch, Who planned the guileful scheme, like me con- signed, Through equal years to equal agony ! ANTISTROPHE II. Ch. The doom, the doom of Heaven — no trea- cherous scheme Framed by my hand hath wrought thee this ! Turn then, on others turn Thy bitter curse of agony ; E'en this I seek, that thou my kindness spurn not. 252 PHILOCTETES. STROPHE III. Phi. Ah me ! Now seated on the shore Of the white-foaming main, He mocks me, poising in his hand The solace of my woes, Which none of mortals, save myself, hath borne. My bow, my only friend, And wrested from a friendly hand, How wouldst thou look, if sight and sense were thine, In pity on the friend Of Hercules — thus plunged In heaviest ills, who ne'er shall bend thee more ! Henceforth— how sad the change! Wilt thou obey a man of many wiles ; Attesting impious fraud, Beholding one abandoned and accursed, Who plots unnumbered crimes — all woes Which on my head hath base Ulysses heaped ! STROPHE IV. Ch. To speak the truth with frankness is the part Of manly bosoms — not to vent In vehement speech invidious wrath. PHILOCTETES. 253 Our King, from all the chiefs Of Greece preferred, by his good counsels led, Hath done a public service to the state. ANTISTROPHE III. Phi. Ye winged tribes, ye tameless herds Who ever range the hills Of this inhospitable isle ; Come from your coverts now Undaunted — I no longer wield The bow, so feared before, To feeble wretchedness consigned. Henceforth the spot is left unguarded all, And ye have nought to dread. Come — 'tis the moment now, Blood to avenge with blood, and on my flesh Your angry vengeance sate, For I am quickly sinking to my doom ! What can supply my wants, Who on the empty air alone must feed, Bereft of all the genial food, Earth, nurse of man, produces for her sons ? ANTISTROPHE IV. Ch. If thou regard the man who comes, to thee 254 PHILOCTETES. Benevolent, his cares requite. For know, know well, for thee Escape is open still. Hard is thy fate to bear, and yet Unschooled to meet the wills its doom involves. Phi. Again, again thou wak'st mine ancient woes To new remembrance keen ; The worthiest thou of all who e'er have trod Our isle, why wound me thus — what hast thou done? Ch. Why say'st thou this? Phi. If thou indulge a hope To bear me yet to Troy's detested land. Ch. Such to my thought the wisest scheme ap- pears. Phi. Then, then this moment leave me to my doom. Ch. Welcome, most welcome, is thy bidding now, And cheerful I obey. — Away — away ! Seek we the ship, obedient to our chief. Phi. s Go not, I pray, by Jove who hears the curse ! 'Ap»i« A«o?. — " Jove who is called to witness by suppliants.' PHILOCTETES. 255 Ch. Be calmer then. Phi. Ah ! strangers, tarry by the Gods ! Ch. What means This sudden cry ? Phi. Ah miserable me ! Fate ! unrelenting fate ! I am undone — A very wretch accurst ! My foot, my foot, how can I yet endure thee ? How can I yet live on? Return, O strangers, yet awhile return. Ch. What does thy purpose vary now From all thy recent speech expressed ? Phi. Shall one be blamed, who, maddening in his pain, Utters delirious and distracted words ? Ch. Go then, as we exhort thee, wretched man ! Phi. O never, never ! — Fixed is my resolve, Though the dread Lord of lightning blast me here With the red flashing of his fiery bolts. Let Ilion perish, with each hated chief, Who, unrelenting, spurned this deadly wound. But ye, O strangers, grant but one brief prayer! Ch. What is thy will ? Phi. A sword, or sharpened axe, Or deadlier weapon, to my need convey. 256 PHILOCTETES. Ch. What can a gift like this achieve for thee? Phi. To lop with mine own hand this head — these limbs — My soul is bent on death. Ch. Why thus ? Phi. To seek my much-loved sire — Ch. Whither on earth ? Phi. Nay ; in the dreary grave, For light and life are his no more. My country ! O my country, most beloved ! How, thus abandoned, should I look on thee, I, who have left thy sacred streams To aid the legions of detested Greece, And thus am nothing now ! Ch. Nay; now indeed long since beside my ship Had I been walking, save that I descried Ulysses coming with Achilles' son. Swift they approach, and now before us stand. Enter Neoptolemus and Ulysses. ULYSSES, NEOPTOLEMUS, PHILOCTETES, CHORUS. Ulys. Wilt thou not tell me, wherefore on this way PHILOCTETES. 257 Thou steal'st thus earnest to retrace thy path ? Neop. To make atonement for my former errors. Ulys. Thy words amaze me — Wherein hast thou erred ? Neop. Wherein by thee and all th' united host Persuaded — Ulys. What then, that becomes thee not, Hast thou accomplished ? Neop, With ungenerous guile And fraudful arts a noble soul betrayed. Ulys. Whom — whom? Ah me! What new design impels thee? Neop. Nought new indeed — but to the son of Pceas — Ulys. What wilt thou do? — How fear is stealing on me. Neop. From whom I took these arms, to him once more — Ulys. O Jove! what say'st thou? Mean'st thou to restore them ? Neop. Yes ; for I won and keep them still by baseness. Ulys. Nay, by the Gods ! in mockery speak'st thou thus ? Neop. Aye — if to speak the truth be mockery ! VOL. II. s 258 PHILOCTETES. Ulys. What, son of great Achilles, dost thou say? What hast thou uttered ? Neop. Will it pleasure thee That twice and thrice I should repeat my words ? Ulys. 'Twas sore against my will to hear them once. Neop. Be now assured, for thou hast heard the whole. Ulys. There is, there is, who will prevent the deed. Neop. Ha — who shall dare to hinder me in this? Ulys. Th' assembled host of Greece — among them I. Neop. Wise though thou art, thy words betray no wisdom. Ulys. Neither thy words nor actions speak thee wise. Neop. If both are just, 'tis better far than wis- dom. Ulys. How is it just the trophies to restore, By my sage counsels gained? Neop. I grossly erred, And would retrieve mine error. Ulys. Fear'st thou not, PHILOCTETES. 259 For such an act, th' avenging- host of Greece ? Neop. 6 In a just cause thy terrors I despise, Nor shall thy hand direct me at thy will. Ulys. Henceforth with Troy we war not, but with thee. Neop. Well — be it so. Ulys. Seest thou my right hand laid On my sword's hilt? Neop. And dost not thou see mine In the same act ; nor shall it linger there 1 Ulys. I will forbear — but when the tale I tell To our whole army, they will best chastise thee. Neop. Thy prudence I commend — act ever thus, And cause of sorrow rarely will be thine. — Come forth, thou son of Poeas, Philoctetes, Quitting once more thy rocky dwelling place. Phi. Ah ! what new clamour through my cave resounds ? There is no terror, Cassius, in thy threats, For I am armed so strong in honesty, That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I regard not. Jul. Caesar, Act iv. Sc. 3. s 2 260 PHILOCTETES. Why am I called? What, strangers, is your will? Alas ! some foul device ! And are ye come To heap fresh sorrows on my former woes \ Neop. Courage — and hear the words I bring thee now. Phi. I hear in terror. — By thy words betrayed, To woe already have those words consigned me ! Neop. Is there no place for true repentance still? Phi. Such were thy words, so winning, when mine arms Thou stolest, frank in aspect, false in heart. Neop. Such are not now — I wish thee but to hear me. Still art thou firmly fixed to linger here, Or wilt thou share our voyage ? Phi. Hush ! no more — If thou speak thus, thy words are bootless all. Neop. Art thou decided ? Phi. Aye, far more resolved Than words can tell thee ! Neop. Much could I have wished My words might yet persuade thee ; but if speech Can nought avail my purpose, I am mute. PHILOCTETES. 261 Phi. 7 Thy words are vain indeed. Thy fraud- ful soul Shall never win my friendly thought again ; Thou, who by craft of life itself dost rob me, And then with idle exhortations com'st, Thou basest son of a most noble sire ! Perdition seize ye all — th' Atridse first, Ulysses next, then thee ! Neop. Forbear thy curse, And from my hand again thine arms receive. Phi. What say'st thou ! Shall we then be twice deceived ? Neop. Nay — 8 by the awe of holy Jove I swear ! 7 Came he right now to sing a raven's note, Whose dismal tone bereft my vital powers, And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast, Can chase away the first conceived sound ? Hide not thy poison with such sugared words. Sec. Part Hen. VI. Act iii. Sc. 2. 8 A most solemn and inviolable form of adjuration. So — ft Seiv ayvov a&cti;. — (Ed. Tyr. 830. 'AM' ii pXv ctyvov Iffri . Literally, " Ingens fatum." So Horace, Post ingentia fata Deorum in templa recepti. Hor, Ep. ii. 1, 6. After the deeds of illustrious lives destined by fate. 1 Swr^a?. This word, which is masculine, is here joined to the feminine N^«k. Similar instances may be seen. iEsch. Sep. Theb.321, ivir^oc o-wt^. So Sophocles, t^jj ELECTRA. t2 ELECTRA. Every reader of the ancient Greek drama must be forcibly struck with the narrowness of the range within which the great Tragic writers appear to have been confined, as to the selection of their subjects. The misfortunes of the families of CEdipus and of Atreus, with a few other legends of the same stamp, supplied, in a great measure,, that scanty fountain, out of which all were content- ed to draw. Thus, on the same basis are founded the Electraof Sophocles, the Choephorse of iEschy- lus, and the Electra of Euripides. Yet it may rea- sonably be doubted whether, in the present in- stance at least, this similarity of subject should not 278 ELECTRA. be attributed rather to a spirit of rivalry than a de- ficiency of materials. It is palpably evident, that Euripides intends to ridicule the manner in which iEschylus has managed the discovery of Orestes by his sister Electra ; and, consequently, that his drama must have been produced subsequently to that of his great predecessor. We may, therefore, pronounce, without much hesitation, that the Choephorae of iEschylus appeared first of the three, the Electra of Sophocles next, and the Electra of Euripides last. To decide between the merits of the two former compositions would be a task not less invidious than difficult. If the Choephorse of iEschylus is possessed of more striking beauties, the Electra of Sophocles has fewer and less glaring defects. If iEschylus rises into a sublimity which is never equalled by Sophocles, as in the relation of Clytem- nestra's dream at the tomb of Agamemnon, neither does Sophocles degenerate into absurd and inconsis- tent puerilities, as in the recognition of Orestes by his sister, by reason of the exact correspondence of their footsteps. In the one there is a strange mixture of grandeur with meanness, elegance with ELECTRA. 279 coarseness, beauty with deformity — the other is uniformly polished, dignified, and chaste. The former may be compared to the Eagle, which, in its impetuous and irregular flight, at one moment is ascending to the sun, and, at another, swooping downward to the earth ; the latter may be likened to the silver Swan, gliding in its calm and majestic, course through the regions of the liquid air, neither soaring to confront the effulgence of the meridian orb, nor sinking to soil the purity of its plumage by the pollution of the dust of earth. With either of these interesting productions the Electra of Euripides is scarcely worthy of a comparison. With many strokes of true pathos, and occasional passages of real sublimity, it combines a puerile simplicity which will sometimes excite laughter, and sometimes create disgust. The poet who can gravely inform his audience, that " a rich man needs no more for the supply of the cravings of nature than a poor man," and, that " strong wine diluted with water will afford a very agreeable beverage," can hardly enter the lists upon equal terms either with Sophocles or with iEschylus. In proof of our judgement we would refer to the drama itself, 280 ELECTRA. while we proceed to offer a few remarks on that with which we are more immediately concerned. The point on which all the ancient dramatists have most strikingly failed is the delineation of the female character. Whether in deference to the po- pular opinion respecting the sex, or in subservience to their own personal prejudices, it is not easy to decide ; but the fact is certain, that, with the ex- ception of our author's Antigone, there are few, if any, of the softer sex, among the dramatic characters of the ancients, who are entitled to our unqualified approbation. The Electra of Sophocles is a haughty high-spirited woman, impressed, according to the erroneous morality of that age, with a full persuasion that it was her solemn and imperative duty to avenge her father's death by shedding the blood of her mother, by whom he had been treacherously murdered. For such vindictive and implacable resentment, our modern ladies will not — nor is it desirable that they should — make any allowance. In all other respects, as a sister and a friend, her character is calculated to excite an interest; — at least so long as she is unfortunate, and until she becomes guilty. ELECTRA. 281 The gradual developement of incidents in this drama is admirably managed ; indeed, it is here that Sophocles invariably excels. Orestes, after an absence of some years, revisits his native land, for the purpose of avenging the murder of his father, Agamemnon, accompanied by an attendant, who is the adviser and instigator of the deed. After feasting his eyes with the view of his much- loved country — " Dulces reminiscitur Argos" — the old man consults with him on the most politic mode of commencing operations. Though he hears the mourning accents of Electra, and longs to em- brace her, yet he acquiesces in the prudent direction of his aged counsellor, and first obeys the com- mand of Phoebus, in presenting offerings at his father's tomb. The remorseless hatred and shame- less effrontery of Clytemnestra, the politic servility of Chrysothemis, the dauntless intrepidity of Electra, and the generous sympathy of the Chorus, beauti- fully diversify the scene, and sustain the interest till tidings arrive that Orestes is no more. The man- ner in which this intelligence is received is exqui- sitely characteristic of the different parties : Electra 282 ELECTRA. refuses all consolation, and, on the entrance of Orestes himself, disguised as the bearer of his own ashes, a scene ensues which, for deep and pathetic interest, has no superior in the whole circle of tragic poetry. Taking the urn in her hands, Electra apostrophises her departed brother in terms of such tender lamentation, that Orestes can refrain no longer, but, impelled by the resist- less impulse of nature, discovers himself to his sister. Nothing can be more finely imagined or more skilfully executed than this abrupt transition from the depth of misery and despair to the trans- ports of affection and triumph. The exuberant joy of Electra, which cannot be restrained, but breaks forth even amidst the most important consultations, is infinitely more pleasing and natural than the cool composure with which she receives her returning brother, in the dramas both of iEschylus and Eu- ripides. The work of death is well managed, avoiding on the one hand the improbability of iEschylus, and on the other, the awkward and impotent contri- vance of Euripides. Both these dramatists, by making iEgisthus the first victim, suffer the ardour ELECTRA. 283 of revenge to cool, and by this means render the sa- crifice of Clytemnestra more hideous and unnatural. Sophocles, with better judgement, has made Cly- temnestra the first to fall ; and, instead of supposing Electra to be present at and participating in the murder, only assigns to her the office of watching against a surprise. The covering of the dead body with a veil, which is removed by iEgisthus him- self, must have been peculiarly effective in re- presentation. One defect alone is here observable in Sophocles. When Electra hears, behind the scenes, the dying exclamation of her mother, she cries out, " strike, if thou canst, a second blow." This excessive barbarity is neither necessary nor natural ; at such a moment Electra, however transported with rage, oughttohave remembered that Clytemnestra was still her mother. This fault, nevertheless, is not charge- able so much upon Sophocles as upon the age in which he lived ; and it is but fair to remark, that his writings, taken as a whole, present the most at- tractive specimen of moral sentiment and fervent, though erring, piety, which remains to us out of the wreck of antiquity. DRAMATIS PERSONS Attendant. Orestes. Electra. Chorus of Virgins. Chrysothemis. Clytemnestra. iEGISTHUS. MUTA PERSONA. Pylades. ELECTRA. ATTENDANT, ORESTES, PYLADES. Att. O son of Agamemnon, who to Troy- Led the confederate host, now mayst thou gaze On scenes, which ever woke thy fond desire. Here is the ancient Argos, which thy soul So thirsted to behold, — this is the grove Of wandering Io, 1 frenzy-stricken maid ; 1 'Oktt§ow^|. This word is borrowed from the Prom. Vinct. of iEschylus, in which drama Io is introduced. Her story is also narrated by Ovid. 286 ELECTRA. And this, Orestes, the z Lycaean mart Of the wolf-slaughtering God. That on the left Is Juno's fane renowned, and whither now We have arrived, thou see'st the rich Mycense. This is the home of * Pelops' race, defiled With frequent murders ; — on thy father's death, From thy true sister's hand receiving thee, I bore thee hence, — preserved thee, — trained thee up To man, — Avenger of thy father's blood. Now then, Orestes, and thou best of friends, Now, Pylades, ye must resolve at once What deed should be emprized. Lo! the glad beam Of orient 4 morn awakes the sylvan choir To matin hymns of gladness, — the pale stars Wane on the brow of Night. Ere from the gates One foot shall issue, be our plans matured 'Ayopx Avxhos, a place sacred to Apollo. AvKioq, or XvxoxTovoq , the wolf-slayer ; so called from his killing wolves when under the disguise of a shepherd to Admetus. — Francklin. 3 Saevam Pelopis domum. — Hor. lib. i. 6, 8. 4 Matutini volucrum sub culmine cantus. — Virg, iEn. viii. 456. ELECTRA. 287 No lingering pause th' important hour allows, But we must do and dare. Ores. Most faithful thou, Most dear of servants ! how dost thou evince, By manifest signs, thy firm unsullied truth, — E'en as the generous steed, though worn with age, In peril's hour his slumbering spirit wakes, 5 And pricks his ears erect, so thou too warm'st Our zeal, and art thyself the first to follow. Now I will speak my purpose ; — do thou lend Prompt audience to my words,— and where I seem To swerve from prudence, curb my hastier mood. When to the Pythian oracle I came A suppliant, asking how I should exact Just retribution for my Father's blood, Phcebus, as thou shalt hear, this answer gave; — That I, devoid of arms or martial host, Should strike by stratagem the righteous blow. Since then the God's response we thus have heard, Go thou, when fit occasion shall arise, s Si qua sonum procu] arma dedere, Stare loco nescit : micat auribus, et tremit artus. Virg. Geo. iii. 83, 84. 288 ELECTRA. Within the palace, — learn what passes there, That thou mayst bring a clear and full report. On thee, thus changed by years and worn with time, Thus habited, 6 suspicion will not fall. Be this thy tale, — A Phocian stranger thou, From 7 Phanoteus despatched, who is esteemed By these the truest of their foreign 8 friends ; Say, — and 9 on oath confirm it, that, by fate Urged to his doom, Orestes is no more, Hurled at the Pythian contest from his car, 6 'HvShz^ew, properly Jioribus ornatum. Musgrave pro- poses, canis capillis variegatum. We have followed Potter : " Thus attired." T Phanoteus, A small midland town of Phocis, says Erancklin ; and Brumoy even translates it Panope, With this rendering Erfurdt appears to accord, though that it is the proper name of a man, is evident from 1. 663 of his own edition. 8 Aopv%ivo<;, literally, " ex hoste factus hospes." Here, how- ever, it appears to denote simply hospes. 9 Much trouble is taken by commentators and translators to clear Orestes from the guilt of perjury. Lamentable blind- ness of superstition, — where a hero can only be exculpated by implicating a god ! Phoebus, in the Eumenides of iEschylus, and Ion of Euripides, does not appear to very great advan- tage among his fellow divinities. ELECTRA. 289 In the swift race. Thus let thy story run. First, with libations and with these shorn locks, Crowning my father's tomb, as willed the God, We, from the spot returning, in our hands Will bear the vessel formed with sides of brass, Which, as thou know'st, lies hid within the wood ; That, with dissembling words, we may convey The welcome tidings, — how in death consumed And burnt to ashes is my mortal frame. Nought will it grieve me, when in words deceased In act I live, and bear away renown. 'Tis no ill I0 omen which ensures success. Oft have I known the wise, accounted dead In rumour's empty tale, to their own home Return once more, with brighter glories crowned. So would I trust, with equal fame preserved, I too shall shine a death-star to my foes. But, O my father-land, — ye Gods who rule The superstition of the Greeks, respecting words of good or ill omen, is remarkable. A striking instance occurs in the CEdipus Tyrannus, where the messenger from Corinth salutes CEdipus " King of Thebes," before he communicates the in- telligence of the death of Polybus. VOL. II. U 290 ELECTRA. O'er this my country, bid me welcome here, And on my path your prospering smiles bestow : Thou, too, O palace of mine ancient sires, To thee I come, by Heaven's own impulse led, To cleanse, in just revenge, thy blood-stained halls. O send me not dishonoured from the land, But graced with wealth, restorer of my house ! Enough of words. Be it thy care, old man, To execute thy task with caution meet, And we will hence, — in every arduous deed Occasion reigns great arbiter of all. [Electra comes out of the palace. ELECTRA, ORESTES, ATTENDANT. Elec. Ah me ! unhappy me ! Att. Methought, my son, within the palace halls Some sad domestic sighed in stifled woe. Ores. Is't not the poor Electra ? Wilt thou here Awhile we pause and listen to her sorrows ? Att. It must not be. The will of Loxias first Must be obeyed. Now pour we to thy sire The purifying stream,— for this will bring ELECTRA. 291 Might in the act, and victory at the close. [Orestes and Attendant retire. Electra comes forward. Elec. O pure ethereal light, Thou air, with ' earth pervading equal space, How many a dirge of wild lament, How many a blow upon this bleeding breast, Hast thou for me attested, when dun Night Withdraws her murky veil. Through the long hours of darkness, each loathed couch Of these sad halls is conscious of my woe, How mine unhappy father I bewail, Whom not in far barbaric clime Ensanguined Mars laid low ; But my base mother, with her paramour, iEgisthus, as the woodman fells the oak, Hewed down with murderous axe. No heart, save mine, with gentle pity wrung, 1 'l}%o<; — cui portio par datur. There are various opinions concerning this word, some interpreting «ij§, darkness. Light holding equal sway with darkness. The same thought occurs, JEsch. Chceph. 316, o-x.6tu (pa,o$ lao^o^ov. u 2 292 ELECTRA. Laments for thee, my father, though thy doom Such pity well demands. But never will I cease my wail, Nor hush my bitter cries, while yet I gaze On yon all-radiant stars, Gaze on the orb of day ; — But, like the hapless nightingale, bereft Of her loved brood, before my native home Pour the loud plaint of agony to all. Ye dark abodes of Dis and Proserpine, Thou Hermes, guide to hell— thou Awful Curse, And ye, dread Furies, Offspring of the Gods, Who on the basely murdered look, On those who mount by stealth th' unhallowed couch ; Come, aid me, and avenge the blood Of my beloved sire, And give my absent brother to mine arms ; Alone no longer can I bear the weight Of this o'erwhelming woe. [Enter* Chorus. ELECTRA. 293 ELECTRA, CHORUS. 2, STROPHE I. Ch. O daughter of a mother J sunk in crimes, Why, why, Electra, dost thou pine In ever-wasting woe, For Agamemnon, by the wiles ensnared Of thy most impious mother, and betrayed To evil hands? If it be lawful thus To speak, like doom be his who did the deed. Elec. Offspring of sires illustrious, ye are come * " It has been the subject of serious dispute," says Potter, " whether the Chorus is formed of virgins or of matrons. They are not once styled TragSsW; nor, on the other hand, is there any allusion to their married state. TmSLmbs is a common term. It is more consonant to manners, that the friends and compa- nions of Electra should be virgins." Yet the Chorus address Electra by the term tUvov, which would seem to intimate that they were older than herself; and she, as Brunck observes, could not be less than twenty-five years of age. However, if it be not more probable to consider them as virgins, it is perhaps more poetical — " Dabiturque licentia sumptapudenter." 3 LvaravoTotruq, the same with l%uXearciTYi$. So Mcrr*)*i, Aj. 1307. 294 ELECTRA. Thinking to solace my despair. — I know your love, — I feel it, — in no part Does it escape me, — yet I cannot cease To weep in anguish o'er my Father's fall. But ye, whose gentle bosoms well requite The love that warms mine own, O leave me, leave me, to indulge my woe ! ANTISTROPHE I. Ch. And yet from Pluto's lake, man's common home, Thy sire thou never canst redeem By shrieks or fervent prayers. But thou, meanwhile, from temperate grief impelled To ceaseless tears, art sinking in despair! When from thy sorrows no release remains, Why cherish thus intolerable woe ? Elec. Senseless were he who could so soon forget A parent's miserable doom ! And more congenial to a soul like mine Is she who mourns for Itys, — Itys still, The timid bird, sad "messenger of Jove. 4 Aioq ayyeXoi;. But this appellation is the exclusive pro- perty of the eagle. Can it mean " Veris nuntius," Ato? being taken for