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 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
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 Julius Doerner, Chicago 
 Purchased, 1918. 
 
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 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
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POPULAR 
 
 ENGLISH SPECIMENS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS; 
 
 WITH 
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAYS, 
 
 AND 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 JOHN 
 
 LONDON : 
 MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 
 
 MDCCCXXXI. 
 
" THENCE WHAT THE LOFTY, GRAVE TRAGEDIANS TAUGHT 
 IN CHORUS OB IAMBIC, TEACHERS BEST 
 OK MORAL PRUDENCE, WITH DELIGHT RECEIVED 
 IN BRIEF, SENTENTIOUS PRECEPTS, WHfLE THEY TREAT 
 OF FATE, AND CHANCE AND CHANGE IN HUMAN LIFE ; 
 HIGH ACTIONS AND HIGH PASSIONS BEST DESCRIBING." 
 
 PARADISE REGAINED. 
 
 G. Wood fall. 
 Angel Court, rfkinner Street. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction. 
 
 ^ On the Nature and Origin of Poetry, and the distinguishing 
 
 ^ Characteristics of Greek Tragedy — Design of the present 
 Work ••• 1 
 
 \^ Chapter I. 
 
 Of the Rise and Progress of Greek Tragedy to the time of 
 Phrynichus 13 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 Of the Life and Works of iEschylus, his Improvements in Greek 
 Tragedy, and the Character of his Style 19 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 Of the Dramatic Festivals at Athens 25 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 Of the Greek Theatre 30 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 On Aristotle's Treatise of Poetics 44 
 
 iEsCHYLUS. 
 
 The Agamemnon 51 
 
 The Choephor^ 109 
 
 The EuMENiDEs . • 145 
 
 The Seven Chiefs against Thejjes , . . . . 1 75 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 The Prometheus Chained *»p(ige 20b 
 
 The Persians 233 
 
 Tlie Suppliants 265 
 
 LIST OF PLATES. 
 
 Page 
 
 I. Cor3''phrcus of the chorus saluting Agamemnon on his 
 
 return triumphant from Troy. (Frontispiece.) See 78 
 
 II. Chorus of Argive Senators lamenting over Agamem- 
 
 non, murdered by Clytemnestra . . . ,103 
 
 III. Orestes exulting over the dead bodies of Clytem.nestra 
 
 and iEgisthus . , . . . .142 
 
 IV. Orestes haunted by the Furies for the murder of his 
 
 mother . . 144 
 
 V. The ghost of Clytemnestra ; and the Furies awaking 
 
 in the Temple of Apollo 147 
 
 VI. The Furies driving a Criminal down to Tartarus . 155 
 
 VII. Furies appeased by Minerva and reconciled to Orestes 
 
 and Apollo 173 
 
 VIII. The Seven Chiefs invoking Mars to witness their 
 
 common oath and bond against Thebes . .178 
 
 IX. The brothers, Eteocles and Polynices, slain by each 
 
 other's hands, and borne from the field of battle, 
 followed by their sisters ..... 202 
 
 X. Prometheus chained to Caucasus, and the Oceanides 
 
 cowering from the storm 231 
 
 XI. Morning , . 245 
 
 XII. The Persians routed at the Battle of Salamis . . 248 
 
 XIII. The Danaides supplicating the Gods of Greece . 270 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 On the Nature and Origin of Poetrj/, and the distinguishing 
 Characteristics of Greek Tragedy — Design of the present 
 Work. 
 
 Milton, in his letter to Master Hartlib, ranks it 
 among the last literary attainments and delights of 
 a complete and generous education, to master " the 
 Attic tragedies of stateliest and most regal argu- 
 ment," which, with a due proficiency in that art 
 which Aristotle and Horace in their Poetics teach, 
 and after them Italian poets and commentators both 
 declare and practise, may serve to shew us " what 
 religious, what glorious and magnificent use might 
 be made of poetry, both in divine and human 
 things." Yet it is certain, that to a vast majority 
 of readers, those poets of whom Milton speaks, 
 
 " Who were the fountains and first springs of wisdom," 
 
 are but as " a spring shut up, a fountain sealed " ; 
 and even of those who do attain to some acquaint- 
 ance with the language in which they wrote, not a 
 few peruse them with feelings of apathy, or only as 
 an irksome task. Doubtless the difficulty of the 
 language, which is indeed great, is one principal 
 reason why the Greek drama is so little known or 
 relished : an intuitive perception both of the pe- 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 culiar force of each particular word, and of the fe- 
 licitous union of the whole in connexion, is gene- 
 rally indispensable to the enjoyment of the subtle 
 and delicate beauty of poetry. Hence the mere stu- 
 dent is seldom able, and not always disposed, to sur- 
 render himself to his author, so as to co-operate w^ith 
 him in producing on his own mind the requisite illu- 
 sion. Without this, poetry is but a barren study, for 
 its appeals are always made immediately to the imagi- 
 nation, though in the last resort it must submit to 
 be tried by. the severer rules of reason ; that is, it 
 must be natural and consistent with itself, which is 
 all that is required or meant by " truth " in poetry. 
 
 It has been long established as a sound critical ca- 
 non, (notwithstanding the eloquent dissent of Ho- 
 race, who yet acknowledges its truth in the case of 
 Greece,) that the most ancient poets of every coun- 
 try are commonly the best. It is observed, that 
 the earliest authors are masters of nature, while 
 later writers excel only in art. The first surpass in 
 vigour and originality of invention, their successors 
 in refinement, in elegance, and in taste. Homer 
 and Virgil, Dante and Tasso, Chaucer and Pope, 
 afford pregnant examples. The reason seems to 
 be, that as the gift of poetry is a natural endow- 
 ment, and in its highest sense, at least, not an ob- 
 ject of art or acquisition, it cannot be extended and 
 improved by successive degrees, like pure science 
 or ordinary knowledge. It must be conversant 
 with ne7v ideas, and these are more likely to be nu- 
 merous and beautiful in the infancy of society, than 
 when men's understandings are informed and their 
 reasoning powers matured. Poetry, then, regard- 
 ed as simply ideal, is the antithesis to fact, and as 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 s 
 
 sucli we can easily apprehend why the ideas of 
 poetry should shoot most freely in the earlier stages 
 of society ; it is perhaps more difficult to account 
 for their immediate accommodation to that internal 
 law of order and beauty which constitutes verse. 
 
 Lucretius ascribes the origin of poetry, (by which 
 he means verse,) to man's observation of the 
 pleasing effects of the song of birds. Man's in- 
 stinctive love of imitation would dispose him to 
 mimic the sounds which pleased him in birds, and 
 though failing to produce similar sounds with his 
 voice or rustic pipe, or by repeated strokes on hol- 
 low bodies, he would yet observe the pleasing ef- 
 fects of the recurrence of corresponding tones at 
 stated intervals, and this perception might suggest 
 the construction of various rude instruments, and 
 at length give birth to some simple sort of music. 
 The adaptation of words to this measured sound, 
 would be an easy, obvious improvement, and spour 
 taneous effusions of passion, whether excited by 
 mirth or love, by war or by enthusiasm, would 
 speedily be " married to immortal verse," and 
 poetry be complete. At all events we know that 
 poetry and music were at first uniformly united 
 together ; it was only after the lapse of ages and 
 the progress of art that they came to be disjoined. 
 Mr. Mitford observes, that even in our own lan- 
 guage the word song is still a generic name for all 
 metrical composition. 
 
 Poetry, as well as music and dancing, is the de- 
 light of untutored minds ; it is only philosophy 
 that requires civilization. Those subjects which 
 were most likely to influence rude, uneducated men 
 to attempt the labour of composition, are of that 
 
 B 2 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 spirit-stirring kind (as war and conquest, or the 
 worship of the gods) which would naturally lead 
 them on to indulge exaggeration and their love of the 
 marvellous, while the very poverty of their lan- 
 guage would compel them to clothe such thoughts 
 in metaphor and imagery, and thus they would un- 
 consciously be moulded both to the ideas and the 
 diction, which, quickened by the breath of genius, 
 constitute poetry. Accordingly, we find the first lite- 
 rary records of every country " submitting the shows 
 of things," as Lord Bacon observes, to the desires of 
 the mind," and both partaking of the essence of po- 
 etry, which is fiction, and clad in its garb, which is 
 verse. Hesiod and Homer afford the first elements 
 of Grecian history ; and we learn from Strabo, that 
 even her professed historians originally wrote in 
 verse, and grew gradually less poetical till the time 
 of Herodotus. The annosa volimina vatum of the 
 Latins, the Runic songs of the north of Europe, 
 the historical ballads of the Arabs and Peruvians, 
 and, not to multiply examples, the Anglo-Saxon and 
 Irish chronicles of our own ancestors, confirm this 
 hypothesis. The facility of remembrance aflbrded 
 by metre, so especially desirable before the use of 
 letters, as well as the extreme difficulty of impart- 
 ing interest and gracefulness to a prose narrative in 
 any rude and uncultivated language may be men- 
 tioned as affording additional reasons for the facts. 
 
 It is time however to consider the dramatic poetry 
 of Greece, as distinguished from the other species 
 of that class of composition to which it belongs. 
 
 * " II faut beaucoup plus de finesse et de correction dans une 
 langue, pour bien ecrire en prose, que pour bien ecrire en vers.'* 
 Stael de la Litterature, Tom. ii. p. 9. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 5 
 
 Poetry considered in itself, as an intellectual fa- 
 culty, an undefinable power of conjuring up novel 
 images and exquisite emotions on every topic tliat 
 it touches, must be of the same nature in all ages, 
 however it may differ in degree ; but the materials 
 of poetry, as of every other mental faculty, must 
 vary according to the plenty and variety of ideas 
 with which the mind of him who possesses and em- 
 ploys the faculty is conversant. Imagination itself, 
 however fertile, cannot invent any new simple idea, 
 nor form complex ones of any other than those ele- 
 mentary perceptions with which it has been pre- 
 viously furnished by external objects, or by the ob- 
 servation of its own internal operations. Hence we 
 shall look in vain among the poets of Pagan anti- 
 quity for all that large class of thoughts and feel- 
 ings which revelation has made known to man, and 
 which have their well-spring in the Christian re- 
 ligion. To them moral sentiment, in its best and 
 highest sense, was unknown*. Charity, benevo- 
 lence, compassion, are no where dwelt upon as 
 requisite features of human character, and men who 
 had never been taught to believe that the Author 
 of this vast and magnificent universe looked down 
 with more favour upon lowliness and humility than 
 on pomp and greatness, upon long-suffering and 
 meekness rather than on daring and heroic achieve- 
 ments, were necessarily strangers to all those dear 
 and gentle affections which grow up among us, al- 
 most unconsciously, from the precepts and the hopes 
 of the religion we profess, and which, from habit, if 
 
 * It is well remarked by Paley, that we have no record of the 
 existence of an hospital, or any similar institution for the relief 
 tof such as were poor and in misery, anterior to Christianity. 
 
6 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 not from piety, we connect with something more en- 
 during than our mortal bodies, and superior to the 
 accidents of chance and change. 
 
 Bred up, again, as the component member of a 
 community, rather than as the branch of a separate 
 family, of a community too, where, from the esta- 
 blished usages of society, man was comparatively 
 every thing, and woman nothing, the feelings of the 
 modern hearth were almost as little known to the 
 ancient Greek as the feelings of the modern altar. 
 Hence those endearing charities, which are evinced 
 in the * thousand decencies ' of social and domestic 
 life, and those numberless varieties of feeling, si- 
 tuation, and character, which grow out of the equal 
 and unrestrained intercourse between the sexes, 
 and which form the business and the charm of the 
 modern drama, are among the attractions least to 
 be looked for or expected in that of the ancients. 
 
 Called into existence by a mighty imagination, 
 the conceptions of Greek tragedy are indeed of 
 colossal magnitude, but, like the masks of its own 
 actors, though embodying all the features of ma- 
 jesty and beauty, and finished with scrupulous ac- 
 curacy and consummate skill, the touch of pathetic 
 nature is too often wanting, and all seems cold, 
 studied, and artificial. There is a want of the 
 " inner man of the heart the simple reality of mere 
 ordinary humanity, and a straining after something 
 beyond it, in Greek tragedy, which often prevents 
 us from being deeply and permanently affected. 
 The secret depths of our hearts can rarely be 
 stirred by writers who seldom dip very profoundly 
 into their own. 
 
 Greek tragedy, in truth, rose, as we shall presently 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 see, out of the choral ode, and it never wholly lost its 
 lyric character. Addressed to a seeing and a listen- 
 ing rather than a reading people, it depended for 
 its most powerful charm on the combination of 
 graceful and majestic gesture, accompanied by me- 
 lodious symphonies, with its own exquisite poetry 
 in the choral parts, which were essentially undra- 
 matic. The very fertility of the Greek dramatic 
 poets, so far surpassing the most prolific even of 
 our own writers, is an argument (notwithstanding 
 the extraordinary facility of expression afforded by 
 the rich variety and melody of their language) of 
 the extreme simplicity of their fables. Some single 
 grand and affecting action, relating to regal persons 
 of their mythology or history, and easily brought 
 about by the sure operation of an over-ruling ne- 
 cessity, usually constitutes all that is really dramatic 
 in the piece. In a word, it was simply a fictitious 
 and embellished imitation of some great transaction 
 already familiar to the minds of the spectators, ad- 
 dressed chiefly to the imagination, through the me- 
 dium of measured and highly ornamented language. 
 
 The opposition of divine fate to human will, re- 
 lieved the author from the difficult task of marking 
 and blending all the slight circumstances and the 
 delicate shades of character, by which the fine and 
 almost imperceptible links of human agency are 
 formed and developed in the gradual accomplish- 
 ment of real events. Yet these very touches, which 
 we require to connect and give an air of probability 
 to the details of the action, are usually those which 
 also impart interest and individuality to the persons 
 of the drama. 
 
 But numerous, as to general readers, must appear 
 
8 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the imperfections of Greek dramatic literature, and 
 growing out of causes which we have but imper- 
 fectly traced, to those who have the power of read- 
 ing these noble productions of antiquity in the 
 original language, and to those w^ho possess the 
 still rarer faculty of being able to abstract them- 
 selves from modern usages and feelings, and of 
 throwing themselves back into the times from which 
 these intellectual banquets were derived, Milton's 
 high commendation of its uses and delights will 
 seem little, if at all overcharged. Such persons 
 find themselves at once thrown back upon a state 
 of things, for which modern compositions can fur- 
 nish no equivalent. Lofty figures stalk before their 
 eyes ; visions of heroic greatness and superhuman 
 dignity become familiar to their thoughts ; they 
 hold converse with majestic minds, which the storms 
 of fate might shake but could not subdue ; and if 
 they come out of this intercourse without expe- 
 riencing those feverish excitements and gusts of 
 passion, by which the modern drama at once de- 
 lights and enervates the mind, they feel in them- 
 selves that calm repose or chastened emotion, which 
 were the legitimate and wiser aims of the ancient 
 drama, and of which the one will be found the best 
 relief against the cares, as the other will be the 
 surest preservative against the pains of life. 
 
 To enlarge the sphere of our sensibility, and to 
 augment whilst it regulates the force of that quality, 
 ought to be the aim of poetry ; and nowhere has 
 this been better effected than in those noble remains 
 which antiquity has handed down to us. In 
 the ancient works of imagination, there reigns a 
 dignified tranquillity which resembles the calm 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 9 
 
 magnificence of a noble statue*, while the glow 
 of unnatural fervour and the glitter of fanciful or- 
 nament which pervade much of our modern poetry, 
 have been compared to the more warm colouring 
 of a picture It requires a more accurate exami- 
 nation, and a more refined and exquisite judgement, 
 to appreciate the solemn beauty of sculpture than 
 to relish the sprightlier charms of painting, and 
 possibly the same analogy may extend to ancient 
 and modern fiction ; but as the regulations of so- 
 ciety wisely require that a large portion of the time 
 and attention devoted to the attainment of a liberal 
 education, should be appropriated to the perusal of 
 ancient poetry J, it seems very desirable that stu- 
 
 * " The whole appearance of their tragic poems," says Schlegel, 
 spieaking of the Greek stage, *' was beautiful and dignified to a de- 
 gree which we cannot easily conceive. We shall do well always 
 to think of them in conjunction with ancient sculpture ; and, per- 
 haps, the most faithful representation of them is to consider them 
 as living and moving statues of the highest order." There can- 
 not be a finer commentary on this noble remark, than the designs 
 which have been inserted for the purpose of embellishing this vo- 
 lume. When the true feeling and high relish of antiquity are 
 concerned, the pen and the graver were never certainly in such 
 hands as those of Schlegel and Flaxman, 
 
 f Madame de Stael has completed this illustration very happily, 
 by observing that the simple German dramas, such as those of 
 Lessing, which contain little more than natural and obvious sen- 
 timents, expressed in the dramatic form of dialogue, bear tlie same 
 relation to tragedy, that figures of wax do to statues. Too like 
 nature for works of art, and yet but a sorry substitute for nature 
 herself, 
 
 ^ " L'etude des langues est beaucoup plus favorable aux progres 
 des facultes dans I'enfance que celle des mathematiques ou des 
 sciences physiques. Pascal, ce grand geometre, dont la pensee 
 profonde planoit sur les sciences dont il s'occupoit specialement, 
 comme sur toutes les autres, a reconnu lui-meme les defauts in- 
 separables des esprits formes d*abord par les mathematiques : cette 
 etude dans le premier age n*exerce que le mecanisme de fintelli- 
 
10 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 dents should be taught to derive from works of this 
 class all the pleasure and advantage they are so well 
 capable of affording, and in no way perhaps can this 
 be done so easily and effectually, as by storing their 
 minds with useful and pleasant information upon 
 the subject, and interesting them heartily in it by a 
 previous and agreeable acquaintance with its origin 
 and nature. They will then probably repair to the 
 classic fountains themselves, with a more ardent 
 thirst for their purer streams and a keener relish 
 for their more elevating draughts. 
 
 To the English reader, for whom this work is 
 more immediately designed, the trains of new ideas 
 which an acquaintance with the Greek stage will 
 open to his thoughts, and the opportunity of thus 
 becoming more intimately acquainted with so in- 
 teresting a people, by sharing in the intellectual 
 part of their most favourite amusement, can hardly 
 fail, it is hoped, of amply repaying the time devoted 
 to a perusal of some of their choicest productions, 
 in the most becoming garb which they admit of being 
 presented to him. Above all, 
 
 — " The dread strife 
 Of poor humanity's afflicted will, 
 Struggling in vain with ruthless destiny !'* 
 
 gence ; les enfants que Ton occupe de si bonne heure a calculer, 
 perdent toute cette seve de I'imagination, alors si belle et si fe- 
 conde, et n'acquierent point a la place une justesse d' esprit tran- 
 scendante : car I'arithmetique et I'algebre se bornent a nous ap- 
 prendre de mille manieres des propositions toujours identiques. 
 Les problemes de la vie sont plus compliques ; aucun n'est positif, 
 aucun n'est absolu ; il faut deviner, il faut choisir, a I'aide d'aper- 
 gus et des suppositions qui n'ont rapport avec la marche infaillible 
 
 du calcul Ce n'est done pas sans raison que 
 
 I'etude des langues anciennes et modernes a ete la base de tous les 
 etablissemens d'6ducation qui ont formes les hommes les plus ca- 
 pables en Europe." — L' AUemagne par Madame de Stael. Tom. 1 . 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 li 
 
 of which examples are here set before him, divested 
 of all that was thought uncongenial to an English 
 taste, may serve to inculcate a higher lesson. Our 
 brighter light has shewn us, that to be good or 
 truly great, we must substitute for the mere animal 
 courage and ostentatious daring of the heroes of an- 
 tiquity, the peaceful unobtrusive moral fortitude, 
 the fearless mastery over ourselves, of the Christian 
 religion ; but if the exhibition of firm mental en- 
 durance of the necessary ills of life, impress more 
 deeply on us the all-important lesson to reconcile 
 ourselves cheerfully to the dispensations of the Di- 
 vine will, to bow humbly before the Chastener, and 
 to feel that by this willing service we attain to per- 
 fect freedom, then will the moral teaching of the 
 ancient drama be rendered indeed efficacious, in a 
 far nobler and more exalted sense than ever was 
 or could have been contemplated by those who gave 
 it birth. 
 
 As to the translation, the reader may remember 
 that the Knight of La Mancha compares every such 
 attempt to looking at the wrong side of an Arras 
 hanging, where, though the shape and semblance of 
 the figures can be traced, their smoothness, fulness 
 of contour and brilliancy of colouring are obscured 
 by the thread-ends which darken them, or destroyed 
 by the stiffiiess and hardness of the outline. It 
 would however be doing less than justice to Mr. 
 Potter's English ^schylus, which, with some slight 
 occasional alterations, has been made the basis of 
 the present volume, were not the Editor to declare 
 his conviction, that it is faithful, spirited, and po- 
 etical throughout, and in the lyric parts, certainly 
 those most trying to a translator, eminently felicitous. 
 
12 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It may not be unnecessary to add, that the Editor 
 has purposely refrained from loading his pages with 
 lists of authorities for the various facts adduced ; 
 to the scholar such notices would be superfluous, to 
 the English reader tiresome. The nature of the 
 undertaking precludes the possibility of its afford- 
 ing much original information. Almost the highest 
 praise to which it can aspire, is that of judicious 
 selection and combination from the wide field of ma- 
 terials which lies open to every scholar. It will save 
 repetition to make once for all a suitable acknow- 
 ledgment of the assistance derived from the works 
 of Barthelemy, Schlegel, Tyrwhitt, and Twining. 
 To these, and other similar sources, the Editor is 
 largely indebted ; there is likewise a work on the 
 Greek theatre published some time ago, by Grant, 
 Cambridge, containing a vast store of valuable 
 classical information loosely heaped together, of 
 which the Editor has freely availed himself wherever 
 it suggested the propriety of any alteration or ad- 
 dition, for his essay was nearly completed before 
 the work fell into his hands. Indeed his first im- 
 pression on a hasty perusal of it, was, that he had 
 taken some pains to little purpose, as this book 
 seemed to have anticipated his design, which was 
 originally limited to an introduction to the study of 
 the Greek drama. On consideration however, it 
 appeared to him, that as the Cambridge work was 
 purely didactic, and intended only for the use of 
 students actually engaged in the perusal of the Greek 
 plays, it did not at all clash with a publication of 
 the unpretending and more popular character of the 
 present. 
 
POPULAR 
 
 ENGLISH SPECIMENS 
 
 or 
 
 THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS, 
 
 ETC. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Of the Rise and J^rogress of Greek Tragedy to the tivw of 
 Fhrynichus, 
 
 In the reign of Cyrus the Great, King of Persia, 
 and of Pisistratus tyrant of Athens, hved Thespis, 
 a native, as Athenaeus and Diogenes Laertius inform 
 us, of Icaria, a mountain district of Attica, famous 
 for its vines. He was the inventor of a rude kind 
 of drama, which he first exhibited about the year 
 536 B.C. 
 
 It was customary among the ancient Greeks, to 
 meet together annually in their villages, at the close 
 of their harvest, or vintage, to thank the gods that 
 their corn and wine were increased, as well as to 
 enjoy festivity and relaxation after their fatigue, 
 according to the intention of our own harvests home. 
 Their praises and thanks were offered chiefly to 
 Bacchus, as the giver of wine and promoter of mirth. 
 In honour of him they instituted at these yearly meet- 
 ings, a festival called Ascolia, which w^as thus ob- 
 served : they sacrificed a goat to the god, (that ani- 
 
14 
 
 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. I. 
 
 mal being deemed the most inveterate enemy of 
 the vine,) and having formed a bottle of its skin 
 with the fleshy side out, they filled it with wine *, 
 oiling the outside, so as to render it as slippery 
 as possible ; they then amused themselves with hop- 
 ping on it, having placed it loosely on the smooth 
 green sward ; and he who first succeeded in keeping 
 his footing on the skin, was declared victor in the 
 game, and gained it with its contents for his prize. 
 Virgil describes the festival in his second Georgic : 
 
 " For this the malefactor goat was laid 
 On Bacchus' altar, and his forfeit paid. 
 At Athens thus old Comedy began, 
 When round the streets the reeling actors ran, 
 In countr}' villages and crossing ways 
 Contending for the prizes of their plays ; 
 And glad with Bacchus, on the grassy soil 
 Leapt o'er the skins of goats besmeared with oil.'* 
 
 DRYDEN, 
 
 To heighten the sport, they smeared their own 
 faces with lees of the wine, and mixed up the joyous 
 songs in which they " thanked the gods amiss," with 
 wanton jests and taunting gibes on one another in 
 satirical verse. The hymns in honour of the gods, 
 from their peculiar celebration of Bacchus, soon 
 came to be called Dithyramhic^ in allusion to his 
 double birth, first from Semele and afterwards from 
 the thigh of Jupiter -j-. From these Dithyrambics, 
 
 * At this day, Sherry, or the wine of Xerez, is said to owe much 
 of its peculiar flavour, to the goat-skin bottles in which it is carried 
 over the mountains of Andalusia. 
 
 t Euripides in the Bacchae gives both this story and an expo- 
 sition of it by Teiresias : 
 
 "When wing'd from heaven the rapid lightnings came, 
 The mother an abortive infant bore 
 
CH. I. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 15 
 
 Tragedy, as we shall presently see, subsequently 
 arose. 
 
 The Egyptians had a festival called Phallica, in 
 honour of Osiris, which owed its institution to a cir- 
 cumstance familiar to the classical reader, but which 
 does not admit of explanation here. The procession 
 of the Phallus, or emblem of the first generating prin- 
 ciple, was introduced into Europe by the inhabitants 
 of Attica, and by them made a part of the ritual of 
 the Dionysia, or festival in honour of the wine-god, 
 who indeed appears to have been identical with the 
 Osiris of Egypt. However impure the celebration 
 of this rite may have subsequently become, both in 
 Greece and Italy, it appears to have been originally 
 a religious ceremony, free from any thought of 
 lasciviousness. The wooden image was borne by 
 men who chanted songs composed for the occasion, 
 called phallic strains ; these gradually superseded 
 the ludicrous sarcastic verses with which the shep- 
 herds were at first accustomed to banter each other, 
 and ultimately gave birth to Comedy. 
 
 On the introduction of the Dithyrambic hymns, 
 as a regular and stated part of the rustic * Dionysia, 
 
 And died ; o'ercome by that celestial flame. 
 
 But Jove in such distressful state 
 Did for his son another womb supply, 
 And safe within his fostering thigh 
 
 Concealed him from Saturnia's hate. 
 Which Teiresias afterwards thus expounds to Pentheus : 
 
 From the lightning's blaze 
 
 When Jove had snatch M and to Olympus borne 
 The tender infant, Juno from the realms 
 Of heaven would have expelled him. But Jove framed 
 This stratagem to foil her : breaking off 
 A portion of the ether which enwraps 
 The world, he placed him there, k, r. X* 
 * See p. 25. 
 
j6 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. 1, 
 
 the prize of the skin of wine * was transferred from 
 dexterity of heel to acuteness of head in the keen 
 encounter of their wits." It was placed at the dis- 
 posal of that poet whose verses pleased the assem- 
 bly most. The prize of the Phallic song was a cask 
 of wine and a basket of figs. 
 
 The first step towards the introduction of dra- 
 matic poetry was the formation of the chorus, 
 originally consisting of fifty men who danced round 
 the altar of Bacchus in a ring, and sang the Dithy- 
 rambus. Of the subsequent composition of the Tra- 
 gic chorus, as distinguished from this Cyclian choir, 
 we shall have occasion to speak at length hereafter. 
 The next advance was the adoption of a minor cho- 
 rus of persons fantastically dressed up like Satyrs, 
 the supposed attendants of Bacchus, who skipped 
 about like monkeys, and vittered wild effusions of 
 the moment, in honour of the god, or in ridicule of 
 each other ; with ludicrous grimaces to give greater 
 zest to their jokes. Then came the improvement 
 of Thespis, who first delighted the spectators by 
 performing the additional part of Bacchus himself, 
 or some other god or hero, and conversing with the 
 Chorus, or relating some suitable mythological nar- 
 rative, with appropriate gesticulation. 
 
 These dramatic interludes or recitations were 
 called Ejnsodes, from their introduction between the 
 choral songs, and in progress of time displaced 
 
 * Dr. Bentley affirms, on the authority of the Arundelian mar- 
 ble, that the goat itself was the prize of Tragedy, whence the 
 name, which signifies goai^s song, and that the wine, as well as the 
 figs, were the peculiar premium for success in Comedy. There is 
 a passage in the 13th Olympic ode of Pindar, (line 25 et seq.) 
 which seems to intimate that the reward of the Dithyramb at least, 
 if not of Tragedy, was raised to the gift of an ox. 
 
CH. I. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 17 
 
 those odes of the chorus which they were originally 
 intended only to relieve and diversify. Besides 
 this important addition of an actor and a story, 
 Thespis diligently drilled his chorus in all the nice- 
 ties of pantomimic gesture, and taking up the new 
 profession of an itinerant player, was drawn about 
 from village to village, with his trained chorus, in 
 the waggon which served him for a stage, and gra- 
 tified the inhabitants of the different districts with 
 the exhibition of this novel performance at their 
 various local festivals. 
 
 Some years after this, the poems of Homer were 
 first arranged and introduced to public regard in a 
 collective form, by Hippias and Hipparchus, sons of 
 Pisistratus. They had not long become an object 
 of general attention, when Phrynichus, son of Poly- 
 phradmon, invented mournful tragedy ; at least he 
 first recited solemn and elevated narratives, when 
 he mounted the rostrum, to spout to the audience 
 between the choral songs. He was the scholar of 
 Thespis, and did not exhibit till a quarter of a cen- 
 tury after the appearance of his instructor. It is of 
 a play of his, composed, however, twenty years after 
 he first came forward, that Herodotus relates the 
 remarkable anecdote of the Athenians heavily fining 
 an author for affecting them too deeply. " On 
 seeing the capture of Miletus represented in a dra- 
 matic piece by Phrynichus, the whole audience 
 burst into tears. The poet, for thus reminding 
 them too forcibly of a domestic calamity, was fined 
 a thousand drachmas, and the piece was forbidden 
 to be repeated."* 
 
 * Herod. Erato, §.21. 
 
 C 
 
18 
 
 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. I* 
 
 He too is said to have been the first who intro- 
 duced a female character as interlocutor with the 
 chorus. Thus then, as Aristotle observes, both 
 Tragedy and Comedy having arisen in a simple un- 
 premeditated manner, the first from the Dithyram- 
 bic hymns, the other from those Phallic songs, 
 which in many cities long remained in use, each ad- 
 vanced gradually towards perfection, by such suc- 
 cessive improvements as were most obvious. Until 
 the time of Phrynichus, Tragedy appears to have re- 
 sembled the Satyric drama, which was ultimately 
 brought forward as a distinct species by Pratinas, 
 and of which the only specimen now remaining, is 
 the Cyclops of Euripides. The quips and cranks 
 of the merry Satyrs were so popular with the com- 
 mon people, that even in a more refined age, so 
 long as the poets contended against each other for 
 the prize with a series of plays, a Satyric drama was 
 appended to every tragic trilogy ^. Indeed there is 
 a well known anecdote related by Plutarch, that on 
 the first adoption of an episode, with a melancholy 
 catastrophe, the people, accustomed only to songs 
 and stories relating to Bacchus, exclaimed in dis- 
 pleasure, " what has all this to do with Bacchus ? " 
 Whence arose the proverb of " That's nothing to 
 Bacchus ", applied to whatever was deemed irrele- 
 vant, or nothing to the purpose in any matter. 
 
 The crowning improvements, or rather the new in- 
 ventions of iEschylus, must be the subject of another 
 chapter, 
 
 * The meaning of this expression will be seen at p. 26. 
 
CH. II. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 19 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Of the Life and WorTcs of JEschi/luSj his Improvements in Greek 
 Tragedy f and the Character of his Style, 
 
 ^scHYLUs, son of Euphorion, was born of an illus- 
 trious family in Attica, ten years after the first ex- 
 hibition of Thespis, and 525 years before our era. 
 The early enthusiasm of his disposition, may be 
 conjectured from a circumstance mentioned by Pau- 
 sanias as related by the poet himself. When a 
 boy, he fell asleep one night in a vineyard, which 
 was given him in charge, and Bacchus, appearing 
 to him in a vision, commanded him to compose 
 Tragedy. Awaking, and wishing to obey the in- 
 junction of the god, he made the attempt, and easily 
 succeeded. He was an early and ardent admirer of 
 Homer, and used modestly to say, in allusion to the 
 great benefit he derived from his works to his 
 own tragedies, that he had been to a great feast of 
 poetry, and had brought away some of the scraps. 
 It is supposed that his conviction of the impossibility 
 of rivalling Homer in the Epos, was what first in- 
 stigated him to strike out the novel and till then 
 almost untried path of elevated dramatic poetry. 
 So early as the age of twenty-five, he contended 
 with Pratinas and Choerilus for the tragic prize. 
 Ten years after this, he fought at Marathon, where 
 a band of ten thousand Athenians, under the com- 
 mand of Miltiades, defeated the army of Darius, 
 king of Persia, which exceeded twenty times their 
 number, and had now advanced, under Datis and 
 
 c 2 
 
20 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH, II. 
 
 Artaphernes, within ten miles of Athens, ^schy- 
 lus, with his brothers Cynaegeirus and Ameinias, 
 were honoured with the highest marks of distinction 
 for valour and conduct in the battle. Of Cynae- 
 geirus Herodotus relates, that having pursued the 
 Persians to their ships, he seized one of the vessels 
 by the poop to board it, but his hand was lopped off 
 by one of the crew, and he died of his wounds *. 
 
 In the intervals of his military campaigns, which 
 were not like the long-protracted struggles of mo- 
 dern warfare, jEschylus continued to direct his at- 
 tention to poetical composition. In the forty-first 
 year of his age, he gained the Tragic prize, b.c. 
 484, the same year in which Herodotus was born. 
 Four years after this he was wounded at the battle 
 of Salamis, when the reward of extraordinary valour 
 was conferred upon his brother Ameinias, who lost 
 an arm in the engagement. Next year he fought 
 at Plataea, where of two hundred thousand Asiatics, 
 the lowest computed number of the Persian force, 
 scarcely three thousand men escaped with life by 
 flight. iEschylus was thus well qualified from ac- 
 tual observation to sing the paean of the Greeks, 
 which, seven years afterwards, he celebrated accord- 
 ingly in the drama of the Persians. This was the 
 first piece of the trilogy which gained the prize, and 
 the only one still extant ; the other two were named 
 Phineus and Glaucus. The drama of the Persians 
 preserves a faithful record, and presents a living 
 picture of the sea-fight of rocky Salamis, to which 
 the battle of Plataea was the final and conclusive 
 supplement. Greece had no longer aught to fear 
 
 * Herod. Erato. 
 
CH. II. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 21 
 
 from Eastern invasions. From that time forward, 
 the Persian princes never dared to cross the Helles- 
 pont with a hostile armament. 
 
 Late in life, iEschylus retired into Sicily, to the 
 court of Hiero, king of Syracuse, who in his latter 
 days became the munificent patron of learning and 
 genius, and whom Pindar has celebrated as victor 
 in the Olympic games, where he had gained three 
 several crowns. The motives which influenced ^Es- 
 chylus to depart from Athens are little known. By 
 some he is said to have repaired to Sicily on account 
 of Sophocles having gained the victory in tragedy, 
 by others, because he was surpassed by Simonides 
 in an elegy on those who fell in Marathon ; while 
 a third part assign a charge of profanation, con- 
 tained in an allusion to the Eleusinian mysteries, 
 and from which he narrowly escaped with his life, as 
 the cause of this voluntary exile. While in Sicily, he 
 composed a tragedy entitled ^Etna, predicting pros- 
 perity to the inhabitants of that city, which had been 
 recently founded by Hiero. It is supposed that it 
 was on the death of this prince he fixed his resi- 
 dence at Gela, on the south-west coast of Sicily, 
 where he died. Some think that it was here also 
 he composed the Orestean trilogy, which is pre- 
 sented to the reader first in the present volume, 
 and which gained the prize, b.c. 458. 
 
 The singular story of the poet's death, which hap- 
 pened B.C. 456, in the sixty-ninth year of his age, 
 is sufficiently known, whatever may be the opinion 
 as to its truth. It had been foretold that he was not 
 to die until a house should fall on him. Being, like 
 Horace, a bald old man, who loved to sit in the sun, 
 he wandered forth one summer's morning into the 
 
22 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. II. 
 
 fields, and sat him down to meditate and compose. 
 He uncovered his head to bathe his temples freely 
 in the balmy air, when a towering eagle soared 
 with a tortoise in his bill exactly over the spot in 
 which the bard sat silent and motionless, enjoying 
 the sunshine and the breeze, and the freshness of 
 nature. The bird of Jove, mistaking the bald head 
 of the old man for a round white stone, let fall his 
 prey to break its shell upon that hard substance. 
 The tortoise dropped plumb from the zenith, and 
 a fractured skull was the unfortunate result to the 
 father of Tragedy ; for so the Athenians justly styled 
 our poet. 
 
 An elegiac quatrain written by himself, and which 
 only records that " there lay ^schylus of Athens, 
 son of Euphorion, who died in fertile Gela, and 
 whose prowess the long-haired Mede experienced 
 on the illustrious field of Marathon," was the epitaph 
 engraven on his tomb. 
 
 ^schylus accomplished for the Grecian drama 
 what Shakspeare, according to common parlance *, 
 did for that of England. Each introduced or- 
 der and beauty into the rude and indigested mass 
 where chaos reigned before. ^Eschylus abridged 
 the office of the chorus, and by the addition of a 
 second actor, established a regular dramatic dia- 
 logue, which he made the principal part of the 
 play, rendering the odes of the chorus subser- 
 vient to the main interest of the action. He it 
 was who first brought into use the spacious de- 
 corated theatre with its fixed and regular stage ; he 
 
 * The praise of introducing order and regularity into the Eng- 
 lish drama more properly belongs to Ben Jonson. 
 
CH. II. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 23 
 
 also introduced the robe, the buskin, and the mask ^. 
 The learned Bishop of London, Dr. Blomfield, is of 
 opinion -j^, that ^schylus was even the first who com- 
 posed tragedy on a serious subject, and thatPhryni- 
 chus only copied his invention : it is certain that the 
 tragedy on the fall of Miletus, which is the first 
 mournful play distinctly recorded to have been com- 
 posed by Phrynichus, was not presented for some 
 years after iEschylus had first contended for the 
 tragic prize. 
 
 It is an observation of PorsonJ, that though ^s- 
 chylus may have been a greater poet than Sophocles 
 or Euripides, yet that the two latter composed better 
 plots, and consequently were more skilful drama- 
 tists than he. The fables of JEschylus are certainly 
 simple to a fault, but there is a naked vastness about 
 both his conceptions and his imagery, which often 
 seems to reach a strain of eastern magnificence. 
 Perhaps there is no more striking example of this 
 than the Prometheus, a character which, for gloomy 
 majesty and haughty heroism, has been compared to 
 Milton's Satan §. 
 
 * So Horace, De A. P. 275. 
 
 " Thespis, inventor of the tragic art, 
 Carried his vagrant actors in a cart ; 
 High o'er the crowd the mimic tribe appeared, 
 And played and sang, with lees of wine besmeared. 
 Then ^schylus a decent vizard used, 
 Built a low stage, the flowing robe diffused ; 
 In language more sublime his actors rage, 
 And in the graceful buskin tread the stage." 
 
 FRANCIS. 
 
 f Praef. ad Pers. | Praelec. in Eurip. 
 
 § By no one have the genius and style of our poet been more 
 admirably characterized, than by the German critic Schlegel. 
 " The buskin of ^schylus," says that eloquent writer, ha» 
 
POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. 11. 
 
 Cicero observes, that in philosophy our poet was 
 a Pythagorean, and of this we find many traces in 
 the sentiments of his dramas, as a deep veneration in 
 what concerns the gods ; high regard for the sanctity 
 of an oath and the nuptial bond ; the future exist- 
 ence of the soul ; the sacred character of suppli- 
 ants ; the science of physiognomy ; the importance 
 of proper names, of numbers, and other things. 
 If Pythagoras derived the higher of these doctrines 
 and sentiments, as we believe he did, from his tra- 
 vels in Egypt and the East, and from some acquaint- 
 ance with the sacred books of the Hebrews, we 
 shall be at no loss to account for their appearance 
 in the dramas of his pupil, and for the almost scrip- 
 tural language which occasionally crosses us in the 
 writings of ^schylus. 
 
 Some authorities ascribe ninety plays to ^schylus, 
 others above a hundred ; but of these, seven only 
 are now extant ; and these are, by his recent editor 
 (the Bishop of London), arranged in the following 
 chronological order : 
 
 1. The Suppliants; 2. The Persians; 3. Pro- 
 as it were the weight of brass ; on it none but gigantic figures 
 stalk before us. It almost seems to cost him an effort to paint 
 mere men ; he frequently brings gods on the stage, particularly 
 the Titans, those ancient gods who shadow forth the dark prime- 
 val powers of nature, and who had long been driven into Tar- 
 tarus, beneath a world governed in tranquiUity. In conformity 
 with the standard of his dramatis personse, he seeks to swell out 
 the language which they employ to a colossal size ; hence there 
 arise rugged compound words, an over-multitude of epithets, and 
 often an extreme intricacy of syntax in the chorusses, which is 
 the cause of great obscurity. He is similar to Dante and Shak- 
 speare in the peculiar strangeness of his images and expressions ; 
 yet these images are not deficient in that terrible grace which the- 
 ancients particularly praise in -^schylus.." 
 
CH. III. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 25 
 
 metheus ; 4. The Seven Chiefs against Thebes ; 5. 
 6. and 7. The Agamemnon, Choephorse, and Eume- 
 nides, produced together. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Of the Dramatic Festivals at Athens, 
 
 There were three yearly festivals among the Athe- 
 nians in honour of Bacchus, all bearing the common 
 name of Dionysia, but with other adjuncts, signifi- 
 cant of the place or time in which they were held. 
 The rural Dionysia, as their name imports, took 
 place in all the country towns and villages through- 
 out Attica, and were celebrated about the beginning 
 of January. The second Dionysia were held in the 
 eighth Attic month, answering to part of February 
 and March, and bore various appellations ; while 
 the third and more important festival was commonly 
 distinguished by the titles of the greater or the city 
 Dionysia. It was at the second of these festivals, 
 that the comic contests were more particularly, 
 though not exclusively held. The representations 
 lasted but a single day, and none but the inhabitants 
 of Attica itself were permitted to be present at 
 them. Hence the tragic poets almost always reserved 
 their nerv pieces for the greater Dionysia, which were 
 solemnized a month after the former, and continued 
 several days ; there being at that time also a great 
 concourse of strangers to Athens, who eagerly 
 flocked to witness this imposing spectacle, which in- 
 
26 
 
 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. III. 
 
 deed was expected with the most intense interest by 
 natives as well as foreigners. 
 
 The prize of the successful candidate no longer 
 consisted of either goat or ox, or even of a flask of 
 wine, but was simply an ivy wreath or crown, in 
 token of his victory, as ivy w^as peculiarly conse- 
 crated to Bacchus. Nor was this honorary reward 
 conferred by the voice of the whole audience ; the 
 presiding archon caused a certain number of judges, 
 usually five, to be chosen by lot, who were then 
 sworn to decide impartially, according to the best 
 of their judgment, and their award was final. The 
 clamour of the people is said, however, to have 
 been frequently influential in the decision. Besides 
 the name of the successful candidate, they returned 
 those of the second and third best, and the num- 
 ber of competitors seems rarely to have exceeded 
 three. No piece that had gained the prize could 
 be a second time admitted to the competition, nor 
 could even a rejected piece, unless important alter- 
 ations had been made previously to bringing it for- 
 ward again. 
 
 So much honour however was done to the dramas 
 of iEschylus, that the people permitted any poet 
 to aspire to the tragic crown who presented one of 
 the pieces of that author, retouched and prepared for 
 the occasion, and furnished him with the necessary 
 charges of representation at the state expense. 
 
 During one period in the history of the Athenian 
 stage, it was the custom for each tragic candidate to 
 produce three serious and one satyric drama, to- 
 gether entitled a Tetralogy ; otherwise, omitting the 
 satyric drama, the three tragedies taken by them- 
 selves were called a Trilogy. In the only instance 
 of a complete trilogy now remaining, we find them 
 
CH. III. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 27 
 
 composed on a kindred argument : the Agamem- 
 non, Choephorse, and Eumenides of ^scliylus were 
 comprised in the same trilogy, and with his Pro- 
 teus, a satyric play, were entitled his Orestean tet- 
 ralogy. The subject of the first is the murder of 
 Agamemnon by Clytemnestra, on his return from 
 Troy. In the second, Orestes avenges his father 
 by putting Clytemnestra and her paramour iEgisthus 
 to death ; and in the Eumenides we find him 
 haunted by the Furies for this alleged crime : he is, 
 however, put upon his trial before a sacred council 
 of the Areopagus, selected by Minerva, to whose 
 temple he had fled, a suppliant for mercy, and 
 the votes of the judges for and against him prov- 
 ing equal, he is acquitted of the charge by the 
 goddess of wisdom herself, who gives her casting 
 voice in his favour. 
 
 Whether or not all the pieces of the same tetra- 
 logy were represented consecutively, cannot now be 
 ascertained, but it seems most probable that they 
 were, and that the productions of different authors 
 were brought forward on different days. On this 
 supposition the three plays of the trilogy, when con- 
 nected, resemble so many acts of the modern drama, 
 nor will the three taken together much exceed the 
 length of some of our plays, especially if the dra- 
 matic part alone be considered, apart from the ly- 
 rical chorusses ; while the satyric which followed, oc- 
 cupied the place, and served the purpose of our farce. 
 
 Another opinion as to the order in which the pro- 
 ductions of the different dramatists were exhibited 
 is, that one play of each was presented on the same 
 day, and that there were four separate decisions on 
 the merits of the authors. M. Dacier supports the 
 monstrous proposition, that the several tetralogies 
 
28 
 
 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. III. 
 
 of all the contending authors were produced in suc- 
 cession, in one continued representation, but this is 
 incredible from the mere length of time it would have 
 occupied. That the whole tetralogy of some one 
 poet was performed on the same day, is rendered 
 probable from the circumstance that the custom of 
 presenting one instead of four plays, is ascribed to 
 Sophocles as an improvement ; and this practice, 
 which had always obtained with respect to comedy, 
 was soon established respecting tragedy also. 
 
 The pieces were first submitted to the principal ma- 
 gistrate of Athens, who presided at the greater Dio- 
 nysia, and who might accept or summarily reject 
 them, as he thought proper : if he approved, lots were 
 cast for the actors, and his part assigned to each, ac- 
 cording as he was deemed a first, second, or third 
 rate performer. Sometimes, however, the privilege 
 of selecting his actors was granted to the poet who 
 had gained the prize in the preceding contest. The 
 number of actors, in addition to the persons of the 
 chorus, was limited to three, so that one performer 
 must frequently have supported different characters 
 in the same piece ; to this there are several allusions 
 in the classic authors. At first, as we have seen, 
 there was but one, then two, and lastly three * ; 
 but as this limitation of their number appears in 
 no way conducive to the perfection of the art, 
 it is usually ascribed to the necessity of curtailing 
 in some measure the extraordinary expenses of the 
 
 * It is to be observed that the numerical limitation did not ex- 
 tend to the exclusion of mutes^ and that Julius Pollux affirms that 
 sometimes even a fourth actor spoke, and that this transgression 
 of the general rule was known by a technical name, paracho- 
 regema : he cites the Agamemnon of iEschylus as an instance, 
 but neither in this nor in any other extant tragedy, is such a ne- 
 cessity apparent. 
 
CH. III. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 29 
 
 choragus, that is, the person selected from among 
 the wealthier citizens of Athens to defray the 
 charges of a theatrical exhibition, which was one of 
 the heaviest burdens of the Athenian state. Actors 
 of celebrity were paid extravagantly ; sometimes 
 half a talent a day, or nearly a hundred pounds of 
 our money, nor did any infamy attach to the em- 
 ployment, as at Rome. Lysias the orator mentions 
 that he had to furnish a tragic chorus, b.c. 410, and 
 that it cost him thirty minae, about £97 of our 
 money ; the chorus, like the actors, were allotted to 
 each poet by the presiding archon. Both actors 
 and choristers took incredible pains to perfect them- 
 selves in their art ; there were frequent rehearsals 
 before the long expected day of the contest arrived, 
 and at these the poet himself usually drilled them in 
 their parts. From the nature of their writing ma- 
 terials it would have cost more time and trouble to 
 write out the several copies requisite for all the per- 
 sons of the drama, including the chorus, than to 
 teach the parts viva voce, and they were studied ac- 
 cordingly from the repeated delivery of the author. 
 This process was called " teaching a play ", from 
 which phrase several expressions grew into use, both 
 in Greek and Latin, that have sometimes been erro- 
 neously supposed to refer to the moral teaching of 
 the drama. 
 
 The assertion of Lord Kaims, whose information 
 on this as well as on some other subjects of which he 
 has treated, appears to have been almost as super- 
 ficial as it was multifarious, that each Greek tragedy 
 is divided into five acts, is without any foundation. 
 Many of the continental critics, however, have af- 
 firmed this likewise ; there is a precept of Horace 
 
30 
 
 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 
 
 to that effect with respect to Roman drama, which 
 perhaps gave birth to the error, but from the nature 
 of the chorus the Greek play must have been one 
 uninterrupted piece of acting from beginning to end. 
 The stage is never empty, or but for a moment : if 
 the chorus be not present at the opening, it usually 
 makes its appearance in the first scene, and rarely 
 leaves its place till the play is ended. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Of the Greek Theatre, 
 
 The reader must now be pleased to divest himself 
 of all the associations which the modern name of 
 theatre or opera-house conjures up to his imagination, 
 the covered and curtained box, the crowded motley- 
 looking pit, and the general glare of artificial lights, 
 and must picture to his mind's eye a colossal struc- 
 ture of Parian marble, open at top but decorated 
 
 * The theatre at Athens was built at first of wood, but having 
 fallen down and killed many spectators during the performance of a 
 piece by Pratinas, (that ancient author who, as has been mentioned, 
 on one occasion gained the prize from ^schylus,) this splendid edi- 
 fice of stone was constructed, which was likewise furnished with spa- 
 cious porticos supported by pillars, surrounding the whole build- 
 ing, to which the audience retreated in case of a sudden shower. 
 For this however there was seldom need. ^' The chmate of 
 Athens," says Lord Byron, "to me at least, appeared a per- 
 petual spring ; during eight months I never passed a day without 
 being as many hours on horseback: rain is extremely rare, snow 
 never lies in the plains, and a cloudy day is an agreeable rarity.'* 
 The theatre appears to have been constructed without a roof, not 
 
CH. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 31 
 
 with the most gorgeous magnificence and exquisite 
 taste. In this noble building let him imagine thirty 
 thousand Greeks assembled to witness what with them 
 partook of the solemnity of a religious rite, seated on 
 cool commodious seats of semicircular shape, rising 
 over each other with a rapid elevation as they recede, 
 so as to preserve the view unobstructed towards the 
 stage, with the cloudless sky for their canopy, and the 
 blue hills of their country, descried over the walls of 
 the theatre, closing the distant view. Carrying the eye 
 down the prodigious flight of marble benches which 
 formed the audience part of the theatre, it perceives 
 between the lowest and the stage, which are on the 
 same level, a comparatively small sunken semicir- 
 cular space, nearly in the situation of the pit of the 
 English theatres, set apart for the chorus, when it 
 sits inactive, and having a broad staircase at either 
 end, by which to ascend upon the stage itself ; a di- 
 vision of the sunken space between these two stair- 
 cases, like the modern orchestra immediately ad- 
 joining the stage, and therefore called the hyposce- 
 nium, contained the musicians. In front of this, 
 
 only for the sake of light and free circulation, but that from 
 its religious character it might be more in accordance with the 
 ancient Greek temples which also appear to have been roofless, 
 like those of Egypt, it being deemed requisite that sacrifices, or 
 any proceeding intended to call specially for the observance and 
 attention of the gods, should be performed in the open air. That 
 theatrical representations partook of the nature of a religious ce- 
 remony among the Greeks, is evident from the circumstance that 
 the theatre was purified before the commencement of the pieces, 
 and libations to Bacchus made on his altar, the thymele, at the 
 close of the performance. It was for this cause, no doubt, among 
 others, that the earlier Christians were forbidden to be present at 
 scenical representations, as it was almost the same as to be pre- 
 sent at pagan sacrifices. 
 
82 
 
 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 
 
 and opposite to the middle of the stage, that is, 
 nearly in the place occupied by the box for the 
 prompter's head in our Italian theatre, but in the 
 orchestra, so as not to rise above the level of the 
 stage, there was an elevation with steps, in shape 
 resembling an altar, and thence called thymele, on 
 the top of which the coryphaeus sat between the 
 choral dances, and conversed with the actors, when 
 as leader and spokesman of the chorus he took a 
 part in the dialogue. The thymele was placed as 
 nearly as possible in the middle of the building, and 
 round this centre the semicircle of the amphitheatre 
 was described. The shape of the stage or scene it- 
 self, was rectangular, but its breadth, stretching 
 across the whole building, was enormous compared 
 with its depth. This shallow strip was called the 
 logeum, the middle part of it however receded 
 much further than the rest, but still with rectilinear 
 sides ; this quadrangular recess was called the pro- 
 scenium, and was furnished with a curtain, which, 
 when not withdrawn, formed the continuation of 
 the back of the logeum. The vast dimensions of 
 this stately edifice, as well as the religious solemnity 
 of the exhibition, obliged the Greeks to have recourse 
 to every possible expedient for increasing the effect 
 produced by the actors, both to the eye and to the 
 ear. For this purpose the figure and the voice were 
 artificially magnified : this was effected by the mask 
 and the buskin or cothurnus. The mask was either 
 of leather or of very thin wood, stuffed inside ; it 
 covered the entire of the head, and was exquisitely 
 wrought by the best artists of Athens, in imitation 
 of the marble statue of the person represented, or 
 under the immediate direction of the poet himself. 
 
CH. IV. 
 
 THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 S3 
 
 The mechanism of the joinings, and whatever else 
 could improve the beauty and expression of the fea- 
 tures, was attended to with the nicest accuracy * ; 
 the opening for the mouth was so contrived as 
 to increase the sound of the voice exceedingly, and be- 
 sides this, there were brazen vessels, constructed 
 on acoustical principles, and extending under the 
 seats of the spectators, which, in some manner un- 
 intelligible to us, enabled the articulation on the 
 stage to be distinctly heard in the remotest benches 
 of the amphitheatre. The increased size of the 
 head, produced by the mask, was proportionate to 
 the increase of height caused by the cothurnus, or 
 buskin, the sole of which was composed of several 
 layers of cork or other light wood, so as to raise its 
 wearer four or five inches; gauntlets lengthened 
 their arms, and the dress, a rich and flowing habit 
 with a train, was so managed as to conceal the want 
 
 * " We may learn ", ssys Schlegel, " the forms of the mask by 
 the imitations in stone which have come down to us. They are 
 equally beautiful and various. We must be convinced, by the rich 
 stock of technical terms, which the Greek language affords for ail 
 the gradations of age and character in a mask, that there was a 
 great variety of them, even in the tragic department ; it is per- 
 fectly clear that ther^e was in the comic. But what we cannot 
 see in marble masks, is their thinness, their elegant colouring, 
 and their neat w^ay of fastening on. The profusion of excellent 
 workmanship at Athens, in every thing that concerned the gra- 
 phic arts, allows us to suppose that in these respects they were not 
 to be surpassed. He who has seen, during the Carnival at Rome, 
 the wax masks of the grave sort which have lately come into 
 vogue, which also partly surround the head, may form a tolerable 
 idea of the theatrical masks of the ancients. Those that I have 
 mentioned imitate life, even to motion, in the most exquisite m.anner, 
 and deceive one perfectly at the distance at which the ancient 
 actors were seen." 
 
 I) 
 
POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV, 
 
 of corresponding magnitude in the rest of the limbs, 
 so that the actors, as has been ah'eady observed, 
 more resembled colossal statues of the finest sculp- 
 ture, waked into life and motion, than imitators of 
 mere ordinary humanity. Their robes, however, 
 necessarily varied, as they were scrupulously adapt- 
 ed to the character represented. The actor who 
 played the part of a king, appeared with a diadem 
 and an eagle-crowned sceptre, and gorgeously vest- 
 ed in a robe of purple, ornamented with gold. He- 
 roes were clad in armour, and a mantle of skin, 
 of a lion or tiger, or some other fierce wild ani- 
 mal. The unfortunate exhibited themselves in sad- 
 coloured and sometimes torn garments ; so that the 
 rank and situation of each person of the drama 
 might be indicated at the first glance by his dress. 
 The masks of the female characters represented 
 the head-dress, as well as the head ; these parts 
 also were played by men ; as well because the pri- 
 vacy in which the Greek women lived, rendered 
 it inconsistent with their notions of propriety to ap- 
 pear on the stage, as also because the voice, " gen- 
 tle and low ", and the other feminine characteristics 
 of the sex, were deemed insufficient to convey an 
 adequate idea of the energy of their tragic heroines. 
 Besides, as the number of performers was limited 
 to three, each must frequently have represented both 
 a male and a female character in the same perform- 
 ance, v^hich could not have been done with any 
 propriety by a wom.an*. Whether women were 
 
 * It is worth observing, that in our England also the female 
 ])arts were at firsi played by boys, and all women, who even at- 
 tended the representation as part of the audience, wore masks. 
 This offers some apology for the indelicacies, neither slight nor 
 
Cir. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 35 
 
 permitted to be even spectators of theatrical re- 
 presentations, is a question yet agitated among an- 
 tiquaries ; more than one passage might be quoted 
 from Plato *, to shew that they were not excluded, 
 at all events, from the tragic representations ; but 
 for the sake of even Greek female delicacy, let us be 
 allowed to hope, that they were not suffered to wit- 
 ness the exhibitions of what is usually termed the 
 Old Comedy. 
 
 With respect to the instrumental accompaniment 
 of the voice in ancient tragedy, it is clearly demon- 
 strable, from the harmonic problems of Aristotle 
 and many other authorities, that the music was not 
 confined to the choral odes, but pervaded most of 
 the dialogue also, so that their declamation must 
 have somewhat resembled the recitative of our mo- 
 dern opera. Metastasio argues that music must 
 have been employed throughout the whole piece, be- 
 cause it is reckoned by Aristotle among the parts of 
 quality, and the quality necessarily pervades the 
 whole piece, and its parts are not confined to parti- 
 cular portions of the tragedy, as the parts of quan- 
 tity are. Aristotle expressly says, however, that in 
 some parts the language of tragedy is embellished by 
 metre only ; from these therefore music was excluded. 
 The quick repartee, w^here the dialogue is regularly 
 carried on in amoebsean or alternate verses, as it is 
 the least elevated and most prosaic part of tragedy, 
 was probably that which was unaccompanied by 
 
 occasional, we regret to say, of Shakspeare and his contemporaries, 
 though no palliation of the grossness of too many of his successors, 
 at a time when the respective characters of the drama were per- 
 formed by the respective sexes. 
 * See his Gorgias, 502, d. De Legg. B. 2. 658, d. 7. 817, c. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 
 
 music ; indeed its frequent recurrence and continu- 
 ance seems to have been one of the " vestigia ruris," 
 the remains of primitive rusticity, some of which 
 continued to cHng to the Greek as well as to the 
 Roman tragedies. As far as one can judge from 
 ancient writers on the stage, the voice of the chorus 
 was guided by the flute, and that of the actors in re- 
 citation usually by a peculiar lyre, called the lyre of 
 Mercury, which pitched and sustained the voice at 
 the requisite elevation. Each ode was preceded by 
 a symphony, or prelude, on two flutes. 
 
 As to scenery, the action usually passes in the 
 vestibule of a palace or temple placed directly op- 
 posite the spectators, with streets, or the sea-beach, 
 or the open country, seen in perspective, going off at 
 each side. Hence the front scene was generally ar- 
 chitectural ; sometimes, however, it too was a land- 
 scape-painting, as in the Prometheus for example, 
 where it represents the bare and rugged aspect of 
 Mount Caucasus. The side scenes were composed 
 of triangles, which moved on pivots, and opened, so 
 as to discover the inside of a house or tent, if ne- 
 cessary. A number of machines, ropes, wires, and 
 other paraphernalia, were also used for flights 
 through the air in the descent of divinities and the 
 appearance of ghosts ; cloud-enveloped platforms 
 for the gods to stand on when they came down ; 
 contrivances to produce lightning and thunder, &c. 
 These, when unemployed, were kept out of view be- 
 hind the side scenes. Ghosts usually ascended by 
 a ladder, called " Charon's stair," from the vaults be- 
 neath, into the orchestra, and thence upon the stage. 
 
 As the theatre of Athens was built at the public 
 expense, and the cost of each exhibition defrayed 
 
CH. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 37 
 
 by some wealthy individual, it was originally open to 
 every one, and no price was demanded for adm^is- 
 sion. The crushing and quarrelling for places that 
 ensued, occasioned a law to be passed, establishing a 
 payment to be made at entrance, and fixing it at a 
 drachma each, about eight-pence of our money. Pe- 
 ricles, to ingratiate himself with the common people, 
 brought in a decree reducing the price to one-third 
 of a drachma, or two oboli, and enacting that every 
 applicant should be furnished with this sum by the 
 public treasurer, out of the national funds. 
 
 The money thus heedlessly squandered was drawn 
 from the contributions which had been set apart, as 
 an almost sacred deposit, for carrying on any future 
 Persian war, and soon engrossed them almost wholly. 
 So eager were the Athenian multitude about this pri- 
 vilege, that they made it by their law a capital offence 
 for any man to propose the restoration of these funds 
 to their original and only legitimate object, or to en- 
 deavour to dissuade them from a misapplication of 
 the national resources, so palpably ruinous to their 
 own best interests. The money paid at the theatre 
 seems to have gone to the machinist, or general ma- 
 nager of scenes and machinery, who probably de- 
 frayed all the expenses except those of the Cho- 
 ragus, on whom devolved the furnishing of the 
 dresses and equipment of the chorus. 
 
 The people hastened to the theatre at day-light 
 in the morning, for the performances began very 
 early, and continued all day long. Between each 
 exhibition, however, the audience retired, and the 
 house was cleared for a short interval : it does not 
 appear whether the same persons usually returned ; 
 the judges of the performances must have done so 
 of course ; but it is more probable that the majority 
 
38 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 
 
 of the spectators did not, and that there were three 
 or four successive audiences each day. We learn from 
 Athenaeus that they occasionally regaled themselves 
 with cakes, wine, and nuts, within the theatre, and 
 during the performance. 
 
 As to the chorus, which formed so prominent a 
 part of the ancient drama, the beauty and sub- 
 limity, both lyrical and moral, of the poetry it has 
 preserved to us, render it very difficult to censure 
 the Greek tragedians for continuing to retain it, 
 even after their compositions had assumed a regu- 
 larly dramatic form, but the impropriety^ of intro- 
 ducing it on our stage can scarcely admit of ques- 
 tion. At Athens, the singing and dancing con- 
 veyed to the spectators no idea of merriment, 
 but on the contrary inspired them with a de- 
 gree of awe, as being that which their minds had 
 been accustomed to associate with every religious 
 rite and festival ; this was an essential advan- 
 tage. In the modern theatre a chorus would 
 obstruct the action materially, because there is no 
 place provided for its reception, and on the stage 
 itself it would be in the way. It must be recol- 
 lected, too, that the subjects of almost all the Greek 
 tragedies related to kings, or to great public affairs, 
 which therefore required, according to their notions 
 of propriety, the presence of a considerable num- 
 ber of persons, while our writers have frequently 
 descended to an humbler sphere, where less of 
 pomp and circumstance is necessary. How far, 
 however, it might be practicable and advisable to 
 introduce between the acts of modern tragedy, 
 music adapted to the subject, commencing in the 
 strain of the preceding passion, and gradually va- 
 rying, till it accorded with the tone of that which 
 
CH. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 39 
 
 is to follow, according to the suggestion of Lord 
 Kaimes, the writer leaves to be determined by those 
 who are more intimately versed than he in the ar- 
 cana of our theatre. 
 
 Greek tragedy, as we have seen, was originally 
 but an episode added to the chorus, whose song and 
 dance at first comprised the w^hole performance. 
 By progressive improvements in the structure and 
 connexion of the dramatic fable, the choral part 
 became subordinate to the dialogue, and gradually 
 s:rowino[ digressive, and unconnected with what was 
 now considered the business of the play, at length 
 it disappeared altogether. Previously to the repre- 
 sentation of the Eumenides of ^Eschylus, the num- 
 ber of persons in the chorus was probably inde- 
 terminate : on that occasion it is said to have 
 amounted to fifty persons, but as these represented 
 Furies, the frightful appearance of so many hideous 
 looking personages on the scene at once, produced 
 so bad an effect, that a law was passed limiting the 
 number to twelve *, but Sophocles afterwards suc- 
 ceeded in extending the limitation to fifteen. 
 
 On its first entry, the chorus took its position 
 either in three rows of five each, or in five rows of 
 three. Preserving this order, they danced across 
 the orchestra or dancing space, from right to left, 
 singing the first portion of their ode, called Strophe, 
 or Turn ; then, keeping the same time and the same 
 step, they moved from left to right, repeating the 
 
 * Such is the common story, but it is argued with great force 
 by the learned Bishop of London, that the number on this occa- 
 sion could not have even exceeded the well known three, without 
 such an outrageous and uncalled for violation of the received my- 
 thology, as would have shocked aji Athenian audience. 
 
40 
 
 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 
 
 Antistrophe, or Counter-turn ; hence the antistrophe 
 always answers to the strophe, not only in the num- 
 ])er of the lines, but also in the isochronal measure 
 of the corresponding verses, because it was sung 
 and danced to a repetition of the same musical 
 strain ; indeed for the most part the corresponding 
 feet of the two are identical. When the strophes 
 and antistrophes were completed, the chorus stood 
 still, in the middle of the stage, and sang tlie Epode, 
 or Stand*. Some choral odes, how^ever, have no 
 epode, while others have a prosode preceding the 
 first strophe, as well as an epode at the close, as in 
 the second choral song of the Agamemnon. Some 
 also consist of dissimilar verses not formed into 
 corresponding collections, and were probably sung 
 by the chorus advancing and retiring simply, with- 
 out the usual lateral movements : such odes are 
 called monostrophic, and the parodos, or first song 
 of the whole chorus, is commonly of this sort. 
 
 The person who led the chorus and acted as their 
 prolocutor was called the Coryphaeus, and not only 
 in the dialogue did he speak for all, but as some 
 
 * These evolutions are conjectured, (Dr. Francklin, the translator 
 of Sophocles, thinks whimsically,) to have had a secret reference 
 to the motions of the sphere and of the planets. Pere Brumoy, 
 cop3nng from Vossius, writes, " le choeuralloit de droite a gauche, 
 pour exprimer le cours journalier du firmament, d'orient en Occi- 
 dent ; ce tour s*appelloit strophe ; il declinoit ensuite de gauche a 
 droite, par egard aux planetes, qui outre le mouvement commun 
 ont encore le leur particulier d'occident vers I'orient. C etoit 
 tistrophe, ou le retour; enfin le choeur s'arretoit au milieu du 
 theatre, pour y chanter un morceau qu'on nommoit epode, et 
 pour raarquer par cette situation la stabihte de la terre." It is 
 curious that Triclinius states exactly the converse of these move- 
 ments for the strophe and antistrophe, though he assigns pre- 
 cisely the same reasons for them as those of Vossius* 
 
CH. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC TOETS. 
 
 41 
 
 have imagined, this practice was also carried into 
 the lyric part ; the chorus, when it has occasion 
 to allude to itself, usually doing so in the singular 
 number*. When the chorus was parted into two 
 semi-chorusses, as for example in the Ajax of So- 
 phocles, when, immediately after the death of the 
 hero, the two divisions of the chorus enter at oppo- 
 site extremities of the stage, and advance searching 
 along till they meet in the middle of it, a second 
 coryphaeus was appointed. The two halves of the 
 chorus, answering to each other, were called Flemi- 
 choria. The person next the coryphaeus was called 
 parastates, and the one next to him tritostates ; thes^ 
 were selected for their excellence in singing, but 
 they pitched their voice in a lower key than that of 
 the coryphaeus himself. It appears, from a frag- 
 ment of Menander, that in his time it was custo- 
 mary to admit two or three mutes into the hindmost 
 row of the chorus, when the number of singers was 
 deficient. That graceful and majestic movement 
 which we call the choral dance, and which, in tra- 
 
 * That this however is an improbable supposition, is pretty 
 evident from what follows respecting the offices of the parastates 
 and tritostates. It may be added, that the practice of German 
 scholars and poets (and none have investigated the Greek drama 
 more deeply or successful!}'') is decidedly against such a notion ; — 
 and from the results produced, it may be added, most wisely. The 
 writer of this note remembers witnessing some years ago in the 
 beautiful theatre at Stutgard a representation of Schiller's * Bride 
 of Messina ', a drama confessedly formed on the model of the Greek 
 stage, with a chorus attached to it, and the effect of its lyrical effu- 
 sions, delivered as they were by a body of men, all using the same 
 intonation, and all apparently actuated by the same volitions and 
 expression of opinion, created an impression on his mind, which can 
 never be erased. From the above explanation it is evident that the 
 chorus, though pouring forth its strains collectively, might still with 
 propriety speak of itself in the singular number. 
 
42 POPULAU ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CH. IV. 
 
 gedy, the Greeks named Emmeleia, a peculiar and 
 distinguishing epithet expressive of the union of 
 dignity, elegance, and musical regularity of motion, 
 was, like the vocal part, led by the coryphaeus. 
 
 With respect to the character which the chorus 
 should support in the play, Aristotle says it should be 
 considered as one of the persons of the drama, should 
 be a part of the whole, and a sharer in the action, 
 rather as it is in Sophocles than in Euripides, and 
 not at all as in the poets subsequent to them, who 
 have neglected this rule. The scholiast too has 
 censured the chorusses of Euripides, and with ap- 
 parent reason, as being irrelevant. Horace, fol- 
 lowing Aristotle, thus describes the office of the 
 chorus ; 
 
 " The chorus must support an actor's part, 
 Side with the virtuous and advise with art ; 
 Bridle wild rage, the arrogant appease, 
 And short repasts of frugal tables praise. 
 Applaud the justice of well governed states, 
 And peace triumphant with her open gates. 
 Intrusted secrets let them ne'er betra}'-. 
 But to the righteous gods with ardour pray 
 That fortune with returning smiles may bless 
 Atflicted worth, and impious pride depress: 
 Yet let their songs with apt coherence join, 
 Promote the plot and aid the main design." 
 
 ART OF POETRY, 193. 
 
 It is not however by any means intended, by 
 either Aristotle or Horace, that the chorus should 
 take as important a share in the play as one of the 
 persons of the drama ; they only mean that it should 
 feel and express a lively interest in the progress of 
 the action, that it shovdd be sufficiently concerned 
 in the events to make its presence natural and pro- 
 per, yet not so deeply interested as to prevent it 
 
CH. IV. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 43 
 
 from making apposite general reflections of a mo- 
 ral and instructive kind, which were well suited to 
 the genius and simplicity of the time. 
 
 The dialect of the chorus was chiefly Doric, pro- 
 bably a remnant of its Doric origin and primitive 
 rusticity ; for the Dorians, shut out by their situ- 
 ation from much intercourse with other nations, 
 longest retained the original customs and language 
 of Greece, and they claimed the invention of 
 both Tragedy and Comedy, alleging certain etymo- 
 logical reasons from the very names of the art, and 
 Aristotle seems to think their claim well founded. 
 
 At first, as has been observed, the dramatic cho- 
 rus represented frisking Satyrs, the companions of 
 Bacchus, who was himself the inventor of the 
 choral dance, at least he is styled so by Anacreon*. 
 Horace, too, characterizes the persons of the pri- 
 mitive chorus thus : 
 
 *' The first tragedians found the serious style 
 
 Too grave for their uncultivated age, 
 
 And so brought wanton naked Satyrs in, 
 
 Whose motions, words, and shape, were all a farce ; 
 
 Because the mad ungovernable rout 
 
 Full of confusion and the fumes of wine, 
 
 Loved such variety and antic tricks." 
 
 As then their ludicrous verses bade farewell to 
 gravity, the Trochaic or galloping metre was the 
 one chiefly employed, as best adapted to the salta- 
 torial and jocular nature of the subject : afterwards, 
 with the episode and dialogue, the Iambic measure 
 was introduced, as being of all metres the most 
 colloquial and dramatic : 
 
 " Numbers for dialogue and action fit, 
 And whose peculiar province is the stage." 
 
 HORACE. ART OF FOETRY. 
 
 * Tov ' E(pivpiTOiv ;^o^uxs* (Ode 41.) 
 
4*4 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CII. V. 
 
 Subsequently, for the sake of variety, and for the 
 greater ease of writing, the Anapaestic metre also 
 was admitted. 
 
 It may amuse the English reader to know what 
 are the kinds of English verse answering to the 
 Iambic trimeter, Anapaestic dimeter, and Trochaic 
 tetrameter of the Greek tragedies. The twelve-syl- 
 labled iambic, or Alexandrine of our standard he- 
 roic, as 
 
 " They warmed their frozen feet, and dried their wet attire," 
 corresponds to the first ; the Anapaestic we retain 
 under the same name, as 
 
 f May I govern my passions with absolute sway, 
 
 And grow wiser and better as life wears away," 
 
 while the first verse of the drinking song instanced 
 by Mr. Twining, affords a familiar example of the 
 trochaic tetrameter catalectic : 
 
 Jolly mortals, fill your glasses, noble deeds are done by wine.*' 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 On Aristotle s treatise of Poetics, 
 
 Aristotle, the disciple of Plato, the disciple of 
 Socrates, was the first who carried philosophical in- 
 vestigation into the regions of poetic fiction. After 
 his death, his works unfortunately fell into the hands 
 of illiterate persons, by whom they were neglected 
 and defaced. At length, when Attains was forming 
 the Pergamenian library, which was subsequently 
 transferred to the Alexandrian collection, and burnt 
 with it by the Caliph Omar, a.d. 642., the manuscripts 
 
CH. V. 
 
 THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 45 
 
 of the Stagirite were offered for sale, and being 
 purchased by Apellicon of Teos, were removed, in 
 a very mutilated condition, from a damp cellar un- 
 der ground, in which they had long lain mouldering 
 to decay. 
 
 The treatise of poetics is very imperfect, so much 
 so, that by many it is deemed not even the frag- 
 ment of Aristotle's original work, but only of a 
 summary of that treatise, made by some scholar or 
 admirer of the philosopher. Such as it is, however, 
 it contains much very valuable matter ; to it, and 
 to the multifarious learning it has called forth, in 
 the form of commentary and explanation, the editor 
 is chiefly indebted for the preliminary information 
 here presented to the reader. In this work, Aris- 
 totle ascribes the origin of dramatic, and indeed of 
 all poetry, to man's instinctive love of imitation, of 
 melody and of rhythm. The indulgence and the 
 cultivation of these tastes naturally gave birth to 
 poetry, first of a rude historical or epic kind, and 
 subsequently, in a more advanced stage, to tragedy 
 and comedy. The Margites of Homer, a satirical 
 work, of which only a few lines are now extant, he 
 considers as bearing the same analogy to comedy, 
 as the Iliad and Odyssey do to tragedy. He defines 
 tragedy to be " an imitatwn of some action that is 
 important, entire, and of a proper magnitude, by 
 language embellished and rendered pleasurable, but 
 by different means in different parts ; — in the way 
 not of narration, but of action, effecting through jnt (j 
 and terror the correction and refinement of such pas- 
 sioyisJ"^ It consists, therefore, of six parts, by 
 
 * Schlegel has remarked, with reason, that interpreters are by 
 no means agreed as to the meaning of this latter position, and 
 have taken shelter under the moi^t forced and discordant expc- 
 
46 
 
 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF CII. V. 
 
 which its quality is determined, namely; 1. Fahle, 
 or plot ; 2. Manners, or character ; 3. Sentiments ; 
 4. Diction ; 5, Music ; and 6. Decoration, which 
 last includes scenery, dresses, &c. 
 
 Of these he ranks the fable first in importance, 
 and the rest in the order in which they are here 
 placed ; the first three relate to the objects of imita- 
 tion, namely men, and their actions and characters : 
 the fourth and fifth to the means of imitation, which 
 are words, melody, and rhythm ; and the last to the 
 manner of imitation, which is by actual representation. 
 
 The distinct parts requisite to constitute the 
 quantity of tragedy are four in number ; the pro- 
 
 sitions. It may, perhaps, contribute to the right understanding 
 of the manner in which Aristotle thought pity and terror would 
 tend to effect their own amehoration, to subjoin a passage from his 
 treatise of government, on the power of music to allay mental 
 excitement : " Whatever passions have a strong effect on any 
 minds, will haA^e some effect on all, and they will therefore difler 
 only in degree ; such passions, for example, as ^;i7?/ and /error, 
 to which we may add enthusiasm, a mood of mind wherewith some 
 men are violently affected. Now we see that this last, when those sa- 
 cred melodies which accompany the celebration of the mystic rites 
 are performed, is soothed and quieted as if by medicine or pur- 
 gation ; and the same thing will happen to those who are liable to 
 the impressions of pity or terror, or whose passions in general are 
 easily excited. IViei/ ivUl feel a kind of uyibiirthening, or ^mri- 
 fication of the mind, accompanied by a degree of pleasure." 
 
 It may be added, that by the word entire in the definition, 
 Aristotle afterwards explains himself to mean, " that which has 
 a beginning, a middle, and an end. A beginning is that which 
 does not necessarily suppose any thing before it, but w4iich re- 
 (juires something to follow. An end, on the contrary, is that 
 which supposes something to precede it, either necessarily or pro- 
 bably, but which nothing is required to follow. A middle is that 
 which both supposes something to precede and requires something 
 to follow. The poet, therefore, who would construct his fable 
 properly, is not at liberty to begin or end where he pleases, but 
 must conform to these definitions." 
 
CH. V. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 47 
 
 logue, episode, exode, and the chorus. The last is 
 subdivided into parode, stasimon, and kommoi. The 
 prologue is all that part which precedes the parode, 
 or first song of the whole chorus ; the episode com- 
 prises all between w^hole choral songs, the exode is 
 whatsoever follows the last song of the chorus. 
 
 The prologue should contain whatever preliminary 
 information is necessary for the right understanding 
 of the plot, and awaken the interest of the spectator, 
 without too far gratifying his curiosity as to the ca- 
 tastrophe : the episode, the complication of the fable 
 by the intervention of new circumstances, which yet 
 insensibly lead and contribute to the denouement. 
 The exode unfolds the catastrophe. 
 
 In modern plays the first act is supposed to oc- 
 cupy the place of the ancient prologue, the second, 
 third, and fourth, of the episode, and the fifth that of 
 the exode. The prologue of the Roman drama re- 
 sembled our own, and consisted merely of an ad- 
 dress of the poet to the audience. 
 
 Of the Choric odes, the parodos is that first sung 
 by the whole chorus after its entrance ; the stasimon 
 includes all those without anapaests or trochees, 
 which were sung by the chorus without varying its 
 position. Kommoi are properly a general lament- 
 ation of actors and chorus together ; but many tra- 
 gedies are without this part, v/hich is not essential. 
 
 But of all the parts the most important is the 
 combination of incidents, or the fable : because tra- 
 gedy is an imitation not of characters, but of ac- 
 tions ; for the proper end of tragedy is to affect, but 
 it is by their actions that men are made happy or 
 the contrary, therefore tragedy imitates manners, 
 or human character, only so far as that is necessarily 
 involved in the imitation of hum.an action, which is 
 
48 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS OF ClI. V. 
 
 the end, and therefore chief. Further, this fable, 
 or connexion of circvmistances which we call plot, 
 sliould be probable rather than true in its incidents, 
 and single rather than double in its structure. The 
 catastrophe should be unhappy, and result not from 
 the vice but from the error and frailty of some great 
 and flourishing character, as in the case of GEdi- 
 pus*. With respect to the measure of its length, Aris- 
 totle observes, that since beauty consists in magnitude 
 and order, a certain length of fable is indispensable, 
 but it must be such as to present a whole easily 
 comprehended by the memory. The more exten- 
 sive however this whole is, consistently with the 
 clear and easy comprehension of it in one view, the 
 more beautiful will the fable be with respect to 
 magnitude. In general we may say that an action 
 is sufficiently extended when it is long enough to 
 admit of a change of fortune from happy to unhappy, 
 or the reverse, brought about by a succession, ne- 
 cessary or probable, of well connected incidents. 
 The change is best wrought finally by Peripateia or 
 by Anagnorisis : by the former is meant a revolu- 
 tion, or a consequence the very reverse of that 
 which is expected from the circumstances which 
 lead to it ; as when in the GEdipus Tyrannus of So- 
 phocles, the messenger (1. 1014) meaning to make 
 the king happy, and to relieve him from his fears 
 respecting his parents, by making known to him 
 his real birth, produces an effect directly contrary 
 
 * So also our Chaucer writes : 
 
 " Tragedie is to sayn a certain storie, 
 As olde bookes maken us memorie, 
 Of him that stode in s^ret prosperitee, 
 And is yfallen out of high degree 
 Into miserie, andendeth wretchedlie."- cant, tales. 
 
CII. V. THE GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 49 
 
 to his intention, because his information leads to a 
 disclosure which confirms all that (Edipus had so 
 much reason to dread. Anagnorisis or recognition, 
 is when some principal person of the drama is dis- 
 covered to be different from what had been before 
 supposed, as when Orestes unexpectedly discovers 
 the priestess of Diana at Tauris, to be his own sister 
 Iphigeneia. That is the best sort of anagnorisis 
 which is accompanied by peripateia, as in the in- 
 stance of (Edipus, before cited. 
 
 The second part of tragedy, namely the manners, 
 which mark and distinguish characters, and enable 
 us to judge beforehand how such a person is likely 
 to act in a given conjuncture of circumstances, 
 should be good, becoming, like and uniform. It is not 
 meant by this that the manners of every person in 
 the piece should be absolutely good, but as much so 
 as the description of character will admit of, without 
 violating the other requisites. Sentiments, namely, 
 the capacity of expressing actual and suitable 
 thoughts, include whatever* is the object of speech, 
 as to prove, to confute, to move the passions, and 
 the rest ; and therefore is referred to the principles 
 laid down in the books of rhetoric. 
 
 Under the head of diction, Aristotle enters into a 
 somewhat minute analysis of language in general, but 
 concludes, that the excellence of diction consists in 
 being perspicuous without being mean ; that poetic 
 diction requires the use of foreign, uncommon, and 
 ornamental w^ords, but that the happy use of meta- 
 phor is most important of all, for this alone it is, 
 (in the diction,) which cannot be acquired, and 
 which, consisting in a quick discernment of resem- 
 blances, is a certain mark of genius. The intention 
 
50 POPULAR ENGLISH SPECIMENS, ETC. CH. V. 
 
 of foreign and uncommon terms is to raise and ele- 
 vate the diction, which is also effected in some de- 
 gree by the technical collocation of the words. 
 
 As modern critics usually class the Epopee in the 
 highest rank of poetry, and Dr. Blair has not hesi- 
 tated to preface his account of that species with a 
 declaration that the epic poem is universally al- 
 lowed to be of all poetical works the most dignified, 
 and at the same time the most difficult in execution," 
 it is worth noting that Aristotle gives a decided 
 preference to tragedy. Tragedy, he tells us, has 
 the advantage in the following respects : it possesses 
 all that is possessed by the epic, it might even adopt 
 its metre ; and it has, besides, the music and the de- 
 coration, peculiar to itself. It has greater clearness 
 and distinctness of impression than the epic, as well 
 in reading as in representation. It attains the end 
 of its imitation in a shorter compass ; for the effect 
 is more pleasurable when produced by a short and 
 close series of impressions, than when weakened by 
 diffusion through a long extent of time. Farther, 
 there is less strictness of unity in all epic imitation, 
 as appears from this, that any the most perfect 
 epic poem, (as the Iliad and Odyssey for example,) 
 will furnish subject matter for several tragedies. 
 If then, he concludes, tragedy be superior to the 
 epic in all these respects, and also in the peculiar 
 end at which it aims, namely, to give that pleasvire 
 which arises from terror and pity, through imitation, 
 (for each species ought to afford, not any pleasure 
 indiscriminately, but such only as has been pointed 
 out,) it evidently follows that Tragedy, as it more 
 effectually attains the end of the art itself, must de- 
 serve the preference. 
 
THE 
 
 AGAMEMNON 
 
 OF 
 
 iESCHYLUS. 
 
 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 ^GISTHUS. 
 
 CHORUS OF AGED ARGIVES. 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION, 
 
 The last exhibition of dramas which ^schylus pre- 
 sented to an Athenian audience before he retired 
 into Sicily, consisted of the Agamemnon, the Choe- 
 phorse, and the Furies. These three plays are yet 
 extant; and it is remarkable, that they form the 
 only remaining example of the three connected 
 pieces of the ancient trilogy. Hence, as well as for 
 their intrinsic excellence, they have been placed first 
 in the present volume, that the reader may at once 
 more perfectly understand the usage of antiquity in 
 this respect, and may form his own judgment of the 
 suggestion previously thrown out, that the several 
 pieces of the same trilogy might be regarded merely 
 as distinct divisions of the same drama. The bro- 
 thers, Agamemnon and Menelaus, married Clytem- 
 nestra and Helen, daughters of Leda. Helen's 
 flight with Paris caused the war of Troy. When 
 the Grecian fleet assembled under the command of 
 Agamemnon king of Argos, to pursue the fugitive 
 and avenge the outrage, it was long detained at Au- 
 lis by contrary winds. Calchas, the most skilful of 
 their augurs, on consulting the omens, declared that 
 this detention was owing to the influence of Diana, 
 whose anger Agamemnon had kindled, by the death 
 of a favourite white doe consecrated to her, which 
 he had inadvertently pierced with an arrow while 
 hunting. The seer pronounced the immolation of 
 Iphigeneia, daughter of the king, to be the only 
 means by which the resentment of the goddess 
 could be appeased ; and notwithstanding the an- 
 
54 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 guish with which such a sacrifice could not fail to 
 wring a father's heart, the clamours of the army 
 prevailed ; and after an agonizing conflict with his 
 parental feelings, the fatal order was given which 
 consigned Iphigeneia to death. We shall afterwards 
 find this sacrifice the subject of one of the most 
 exquisitely touching of the tragedies of Euripides. 
 
 Clytemnestra leagued with her paramour iEgis- 
 thus to assassinate her husband Agamemnon, on his 
 triumphant return from the Trojan war, and she 
 pleads his consent to the death of Iphigeneia as her 
 excuse. Agamemnon also brought with him from 
 Troy a captive concubine, Cassandra, daughter of 
 Priam, on whom Apollo had bestowed the gift of 
 prophecy, but being denied the reward he had ex- 
 pected for the boon, had touched her lips with his 
 tongue, and willed her to be deemed insane, so that 
 none of her predictions might ever be believed. 
 She frequently foretold to Agamemnon the fate 
 that awaited his return to Argos ; but her solemn 
 warnings, which form one of the most highly wrought 
 scenes of the following tragedy, were wholly disre- 
 garded. On arriving at his palace, Agamemnon 
 was welcomed with a sumptuous feast ; and in 
 coming out of the bath, the usual preparation for a 
 banquet, he was presented by Clytemnestra with a 
 tunic, the sleeves of which were sewed together to 
 embarrass him. When his hands were entangled in 
 the folds of the robe, Clytemnestra, assisted by iEgis- 
 thus, dispatched him with repeated blows of an axe. 
 
 It has already been observed that the plots of all 
 the Greek tragedies which have come down to us, 
 are mythological or historical, and not the offspring 
 of pure invention. In the present instance, ^Eschy- 
 lus has faithfully adhered to the received account of 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF .ESCHYLUS. 
 
 55 
 
 the calamities which befel the house of Pelops. 
 Tantalus, whose fabled fate must be familiar to 
 every reader, was the father of Pelops. Atreus and 
 Thyestes were his sons. Atreus deposed his bro- 
 ther from the throne which was his birthright, and 
 he in turn seduced the wife of the usurper. Atreus, 
 in revenge, killed the progeny of this adultery, and 
 served them up at a banquet, so that Thyestes un- 
 consciously ate of his own children. The perpe- 
 trator of this deed of horror then proclaimed his 
 triumph, at which the sun is said to have shrunk 
 back in his course appalled*. ^gisthus, whom 
 ^schylus paints in the following play as the guilty 
 avenger of this impious atrocity, was the offspring of 
 an incestuous intercourse between Thyestes and Pe- 
 lopea. 
 
 It would seem, from this relation, that the indig- 
 nation of the gods of the heathen Pantheon was vi- 
 sited upon the descendants of the guilty, to the 
 third and fourth generation. The crime of Tanta- 
 lus caused the line of Pelops to be haunted and pu- 
 nished by the Furies, or the powers of darkness. It 
 was they who, after a long series of previous perse- 
 cutions, evinced in the crimes and calamities of 
 Atreus and Thyestes, directed the shaft of Aga- 
 memnon against the sacred hind of Diana ; this 
 caused the anger of the goddess, and the consequent 
 immolation of Iphigeneia, which, in turn, served as a 
 pretext to Clytemnestra for the murder of her hus- 
 
 * Hence Milton, describing the dire effects of eating of the 
 forbidden tree, writes, 
 
 — " At that tasted fruit, 
 The sun, as from Thyestean banquet, turned 
 His course intended; else how had the world 
 Inhabited, though sinless, more than now 
 Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat? 
 
56 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 band. Orestes avenges this murder by the death of 
 her, his mother ; and it is only on receiving expia- 
 tion and forgiveness from the gods themselves, that 
 even he escapes destruction. To those who are not 
 familiarly versed in classic lore, it may be consoling 
 to learn that the common supplement to the story of 
 Iphigeneia's sacrifice is, that in the moment when 
 Calchas had raised his knife to strike the fatal blow, 
 Diana herself, touched with compassion for the in- 
 nocence and beauty of the virgin victim, suddenly 
 snatched her away to her temple in the Taurick Cher- 
 sonesus, and substituted in her stead a goat of un- 
 common size and beauty. The striking resemblance 
 of some of these circumstances to the facts recorded 
 in sacred history of the intended sacrifice of Isaac, 
 cannot escape the most cursory reader. 
 
 It is remarkable, that though the Tragic writers, 
 and their illustrious lyric contemporary, Pindar, 
 ascribe the existence of human sacrifice to the siege 
 of Troy, we find no trace of this abomination in 
 Homer or in Hesiod. On the contrary, the latter 
 expressly notices the detention of the Grecian fleet 
 at Aulis by tempestuous weather, but makes no 
 mention of so extraordinary an event as this fate of 
 Iphigeneia, and Homer seems plainly to contradict 
 it ; for in the ninth Iliad we learn, that among the 
 peace-offerings proposed by Agamemnon to propi- 
 tiate Achilles, one is the choice of his three daughters, 
 Chrysothemis, Laodice, and Iphianassa, in marriage, 
 with a princely dower. Of these two are gene- 
 rally admitted to be the Iphigeneia and Electra 
 of the Tragic poets. Indeed Homer is wholly 
 silent respecting those domestic feuds and atroci- 
 ties which are said to have polluted the house 
 of Pelops ; and in the second Iliad he distinctly in- 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF .^SCHYLUS. 57 
 
 timates the peaceable transmission of the regal 
 power, from Pelops down to Agamemnon. What 
 he says is this : Mercmy gave the sceptre which 
 Vulcan had wrought with art, to Pelops, manager of 
 steeds ; but Pelops gave it to Atreus, shepherd of 
 his people. Atreus at his death left it to Thyestes, 
 rich in flocks, and lastly Thyestes left it to the 
 charge of royal Agamemnon, to rule over all Argos 
 and many islands." * 
 
 It is observed, however, that when the monarch 
 first addresses Calchas in the Iliad, he denounces 
 him as a prophet of evil, never predicting aught to 
 glad his heart ; and this is supposed by some to re- 
 fer to his previous conduct at Aulis. 
 
 Agamemnon and Menelaus are usually styled 
 sons of Atreus, but incorrectly. If we may credit 
 Hesiod, Apollodorus, and even jS^schylus himself , 
 they were the sons of Plisthenes, son of Atreus, 
 who died w^hen his children were very young : their 
 grandfather in consequence having brought them up 
 in his house and instructed them, they were thence 
 known by the surname of Atridse. 
 
 In the original, the following play opens with 
 the soliloquy of a sentry, whose office for the 
 nine preceding years has been to watch, ' fixed, as a 
 dog, on Agamemnon's roof,' for the beacon-fire 
 by which the king at his departure had pro- 
 mised Clytemnestra to communicate to Argos the 
 earliest intelligence of the capture of Troy. The 
 watcher, after bewailing his hapless fate in being 
 doomed to so tedious an occupation, complains 
 
 * Iliad, B. 104. 
 
 t See the imprecation of ^gisthus, exulting in the murder of 
 Agamemnon : — 
 
 " Thus perish all the race of Plisthenes / " 
 
58 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 that he no longer has spirits to cheer himself up 
 with ends of verse and snatches of old tunes, 
 while the dews of heaven nightly wet his sleepless 
 couch. At this moment the blaze of the telegraphic 
 beacon bursts upon his sight, and he hastens in ec- 
 stasy to acquaint the queen with the glad tidings. 
 
 The Chorus, composed of aged inhabitants of Ar- 
 gos, now enter, bewailing the helplessness of their 
 withered years, by which they are compelled to 
 crawl listlessly through the streets of the city, while 
 their king and countrymen are fighting gloriously at 
 Troy, to avenge the wrongs of Menelaus. Pre- 
 sently they perceive the altars of their tutelary gods 
 loaded with victims and offerings of thanksgiving, 
 by order of the queen, and filled with a divine af?la- 
 tus their spirits rise, as they celebrate in lyric 
 strains the omen which appeared to the two Atridse 
 on their march against Troy. Two eagles, both of 
 darkest plumage, but one having its dusky pinions 
 fringed with white, were seen bearing a pregnant 
 hare towards the palace at Argos. The seizure of the 
 hare by the two eagles, is interpreted, by the augur 
 Calchas, to signify the capture of the devoted city by 
 the royal brothers ; but because the hare was preg- 
 nant, he fears that the wrath of Diana is portended, 
 under whose protection, as goddess of the chase, 
 the young of all wild animals was specially placed. 
 This part of the prediction points to the delay at Aulis. 
 
 The Chorus, having detailed the augury of Calchas, 
 now assumes its proper office, and commencing with 
 a solemn invocation of the King of Gods and men, 
 by whatsoever name they may " express him un- 
 blamed ", proceeds with that solemn ode which in 
 the following pages has been assumed as the open- 
 ing of the drama. 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 59 
 
 Scene. — The Area, or court before the royal palace at Argos. 
 
 CHORUS— singing. 
 
 Strophe 1. 
 
 O thou, that sitt'st supreme above, 
 
 Whatever name thou deign'st to hear, 
 Unblam'd may I pronounce thee Jove ! 
 Immers'd in deep and holy thought, 
 If rightly I conjecture aught, 
 
 Thy pow'r I must revere : 
 Else vainly tost the anxious mind 
 Nor truth, nor calm repose can find. 
 Feeble and helpless to the light 
 
 The proudest of man's race arose. 
 Though now, exulting in his might, 
 
 Dauntless he rushes on his foes ; 
 Great as he is, in dust he lies ; 
 He meets a greater, and he dies. 
 
 Antistrophe 1. 
 
 He that when conquest brightens round, 
 
 Swells the triumphal strain to Jove, 
 Shall ever with success be crown'd ; 
 Yet often, when to wisdom's seat 
 Jove deigns to guide man's erring feet, 
 
 His virtues to improve, 
 He to affliction gives command 
 To form him with her chast'ning hand : 
 The memory of her rigid lore. 
 On the sad heart imprinted deep, 
 
60 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Attends him through day's active hour, 
 
 Nor in the night forsakes his sleep. 
 Instructed thus thy grace we own, 
 O thou, that sitt'st on heav'n's high throne ! 
 Stro. 2. When now in Auhs' rolling bay 
 
 His course the refluent flood refus'd, 
 And sick'ning with inaction lay 
 In dead repose th' exhausted train. 
 Did the firm chief of chance complain ? 
 
 No prophet he accus'd ; 
 His eyes towards Chalcis bent, he stood, 
 And silent mark'd the surging flood. 
 Sullen the winds from Strymon sweep, 
 
 Mischance and famine in the blast, 
 Ceaseless torment the angry deep, 
 
 The cordage rend, the vessels waste, 
 With tedious and severe delay 
 Wear the fresh flower of Greece away. 
 Antis. 2. When, in Diana's name, the seer 
 
 Pronounc'd the dreadful remedy 
 More than the stormy sea severe, 
 Each chieftain stood in grief profound. 
 And smote his sceptre on the ground : 
 
 Then with a risinjy sigh 
 The monarch, whilst the big tears roll, 
 Express'd the anguish of his soul ; 
 
 Dreadful the sentence : not t' obey. 
 
 Vengeance and ruin close us round : 
 Shall then the sire his daughter slay. 
 
 In youth's fresh bloom with beauty crown'd ? 
 Shall on these hands her warm blood flow ? 
 Cruel alternative of woe ! 
 Stro. 3. This royal fleet, this martial host, 
 
 The cause of Greece, shall I betray, 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCIIYLUS. 
 
 61 
 
 The monarch in the father lost ? 
 
 To calm these winds, to smooth this flood, 
 
 Diana's wrath a virgin's blood 
 
 Demands : 'tis our's t' obey." 
 Bound in fate's adamantine chain 
 Reluctant nature strives in vain : 
 Impure, unholy thoughts succeed, 
 
 And dark'ning o'er his bosom roll ; 
 Whilst madness prompts the ruthless deed, 
 Tyrant of the misguided soul : 
 Stern on the fleet he rolls his eyes, 
 And dooms the hateful sacrifice. 
 Antis. 3. Arm'd in a woman's cause, around 
 
 Fierce for the war the princes rose ; 
 No place affrighted pity found. 
 In vain the virgin's streaming tear. 
 Her cries in vain, her pleading pray'r, 
 
 Her agonizing woes. 
 Could the fond father hear unmov'd ? 
 The Fates decreed : the king approv'd : 
 Then to th' attendants gave command 
 
 Decent her flowing robes to bind ; 
 Prone on the altar with strong hand 
 
 To place her, like a spotless hind ; 
 And check her sweet voice, that no sound 
 Unhallow'd might the rites confound. 
 
 Epode. 
 
 Rent on the earth her maiden veil she throws 
 That emulates the rose ; 
 
 And on the sad attendants rolling 
 The trembling lustre of her dewy eyes, 
 
 Their grief-impassion'd souls controlling. 
 
62 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 That ennobled, modest grace, 
 Which the mimic pencil tries 
 In the imag'd form to trace, 
 
 The breathing pictm-e shows : 
 And as, amidst his festal pleasures, 
 
 Her father oft rejoic'd to hear 
 Her voice in soft mellifluous measures 
 
 Warble the sprightly-fancied air — 
 So now in act to speak the virgin stands ; 
 But when, the third libation paid. 
 
 She heard her father's dread commands 
 Enjoining silence, she obey'd : 
 
 And for her country's good. 
 With patient, meek, submissive mind 
 
 To her hard fate resign'd, 
 Pour'd out the rich stream of her blood. 
 What since hath past I know not, nor relate ; 
 
 But never did the prophet speak in vain, 
 Th' afflicted, anxious for his future fate, 
 
 Looks forward, and with hope relieves his 
 pain. 
 
 But since th' inevitable ill will come. 
 
 Much knowledge to much misery is allied ; 
 
 Why strive we then t' anticipate the doom. 
 Which happiness and wisdom wish to hide ? 
 
 Enter Clytemnestra. 
 
 Clytemnestra, Chorus. 
 
 CiiOR. With reverence, Clytemnestra, I approach 
 Thy greatness ; honour due to her that fills 
 The royal seat, yet vacant of its lord. 
 If aught of glad import hath reach'd thy ear, 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 63 
 
 Or to fair hope the victim bleeds*, I wish, 
 But with submission to thy will, to hear. 
 
 Clyt. The joy-imparting morn springs, as they say, 
 From night, her mother. Thou shalt hear a joy 
 Beyond thy utmost hope : the town of Priam 
 Is fall'n beneath the conquering arms of Greece. 
 
 Chor. How long hath ruin crush'd this haughty city ? 
 
 Clyt. This night, that gave this infant morning 
 birth. 
 
 Chor. What speed could be the herald of this news ? 
 
 Clyt. The fire, that from the height of Ida sent 
 Its streaming light, as from th' announcing flame 
 Torch blaz'd to torch. First Ida to the steep 
 Of Lemnos ; Athos' sacred height receiv'd 
 The mighty splendor ; from the surging back 
 Of Hellespont the vig'rous blaze held on 
 Its smiling way, and like the orient sun 
 Illumes wdth golden-gleaming rays the head 
 Of rocky Macetas ; nor lingers there. 
 Nor winks unheedful, but its warning flames 
 Darts to Euripus' fitful stream, and gives 
 Its glitt'ring signal to the guards that hold 
 Their high watch on Mesapius. These enkindle 
 The joy-announcing fires, that spread the blaze 
 To where Erica hoar its shaggy brow 
 Waves rudely. Unimpair'd the active flame 
 Bounds o'er the level of Asopus, like 
 The jocund Moon, and on Cithaeron's steep 
 Wakes a successive flame ; the distant watch 
 Discern its gleam, and raise a brighter fire. 
 That o'er the lake Gorgopis streaming holds 
 
 * On hearing good tidings, even though the report was uncer- 
 tain, it was usual among the Greeks to sacrifice to Good Hope, and 
 lo send a share of the victim to their friends. 
 
64 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Its rapid course, and on the mountainous heights 
 Of iEgiplanctus huge, swift-shooting spreads 
 The lengthen'd line of hght. Thence onwards 
 waves 
 
 Its fiery tresses, eager to ascend 
 The crags of Prone, frowning in their pride 
 O'er the Saronic gulf : it leaps, it mounts 
 The summit of Arachne, whose high head 
 Looks down on Argos : to this royal seat 
 Thence darts the light that from th' Idsean fire 
 Derives its birth. Rightly in order thus 
 Each to the next consigns the torch, that fills 
 The bright succession, whilst the first in speed 
 Vies with the last : the promis'd signal this 
 Giv'n by my lord t' announce the fall of Troy. 
 
 Clytemnestra proceeds, at the desire of the chorus, 
 to detail the various calamities of the captured city, 
 and concludes with a solemn w ish, that the victorious 
 Greeks may not be tempted by their conquest to 
 indulge in any excess or violation of the sacred 
 laws ; while by her earnest deprecation of any ill 
 befalling their return, she darkly intimates the 
 foregone conclusion " which was already working 
 in the recesses of her guilty mind. 
 
 The chorus however ascribe all to her pious 
 anxiety for the safety of her husband, and reply in 
 the following noble hymn of thanksgiving. 
 
 Prosode. 
 
 Supreme of kings, Jove ; and thou, friendly 
 Night, 
 
 That wide o'er heav'n's star-spangled plain 
 Holdest thy awful reign — 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLUS. 
 
 65 
 
 Thou, that with resistless might 
 O'er Troy's proud tow'rs, and destin'd state, 
 Hast thrown the secret net of fate, 
 In whose enormous sweep the young, the old, 
 
 Without distinction roll'd, 
 Are with unsparing fury dragg'd away 
 
 To slavery and woe a prey : 
 Thee, hospitable Jove, whose vengeful pow'r 
 These terrors o'er the foe hath spread, 
 Thy bow long bent at Paris' head, 
 Whose arrows know their time to fly, 
 Not hurtling aimless in the sky, 
 Our pious strains adore. 
 
 Strophe 1. 
 
 The hand of Jove will they not own ; 
 
 And, as his marks they trace. 
 Confess he will'd, and it was done ? 
 
 Who now of earth-born race 
 Shall dare contend that his high pow'r 
 
 Deigns not with eye severe to view 
 The wretch, that tramples on his law ? 
 
 Hence with this impious lore : 
 Learn that the sons accurs'd shall rue 
 
 The madly daring father's pride, 
 That furious drew th' unrighteous sword, 
 High in his house the rich spoils stor'd. 
 
 And the avenging Gods defied. 
 But be it mine to draw 
 From wisdom's fount, pure as it flows, 
 That calm of soul, which virtue only knows. 
 For vain the shield, that wealth shall spread, 
 To guard the proud oppressor's head, 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Who dares the rights of Justice to confoimdj 
 And spurn her altars to the ground. 
 
 Antistrophe 1. 
 
 Seductive is the voice of vice 
 
 That spreads th' insidious snare : 
 She, not conceal'd, thro' her disguise 
 
 Emits a hvid glare. 
 Her vot'ry, like adult'rate brass 
 
 Unfaithful to its use, unsound, 
 Proves the dark baseness of his soul ; 
 
 Fond as a boy to chase 
 The winged bird light-flitting round, 
 
 And bent on his pernicious play 
 Draws desolation on his state. 
 His vows no God regards, when Fate 
 
 In vengeance sweeps the wretch away. 
 With base intent and foul, 
 Each hospitable law defied. 
 From Sparta's king thus Paris stole his bride. 
 To Greece she left the shield, the spear, 
 The naval armament of war ; 
 And, bold in ill, to Troy's devoted shore 
 Destruction for her dow'ry bore. 
 Stro. 2. When through the gates her easy way 
 
 She took, his pensive breast 
 Each prophet smote in deep dismay, 
 
 And thus his grief exprest. 
 What woes this royal mansion threat, 
 
 This mansion, and its mighty lord ? 
 Where now the chaste connubial bed ? 
 
 The traces of her feet, 
 By love to her blest consort led. 
 
 Where now ? Ah, silent, see, she stands ; 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF .ESCHYLUS. 67 
 
 Each glowing tint, each radiant grace, 
 That charm th' enraptur'd eye, we trace ; 
 And still the blooming form commands, 
 Still honom^'d, still ador'd, 
 Though careless of her former loves 
 Far o'er the rolling sea the wanton roves : 
 The husband, with a bursting sigh, 
 Turns from the pictur'd fair his eye ; 
 Whilst love, by absence fed, without control 
 Tumultuous rushes on his soul. 
 Antis. 2. Oft as short slumbers close his eyes, 
 His sad soul sooth'd to rest. 
 The dream-created visions rise, 
 With all her charms imprest : 
 But vain th' ideal scene, that smiles 
 With rapt'rous love and warm delight ; 
 Vain his fond hopes : his eager arms 
 The fleeting form beguiles. 
 On sleep's quick pinions passing light." 
 Such griefs, and more severe than these, 
 Their sad gloom o'er the palace spread ; 
 Thence stretch their melancholy shade. 
 And darken o'er the realms of Greece. 
 
 Struck with no false alarms 
 Each house its home-felt sorrow knows. 
 Each bleeding heart is pierc'd with keenest woes 
 When for the hero, sent to share 
 The glories of the crimson war. 
 Nought, save his arms stain'd with their mas 
 ter's gore, 
 And his cold ashes reach the shore. 
 Stro. 3. Thus in the dire exchange of war 
 Does Mars the balance hold ; 
 
68 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Helms are the scales, the beam a spear, 
 
 And blood is weigh'd for gold. 
 Thus, for the warrior, to his friends 
 
 His sad remains, a poor return, 
 Sav'd from the sullen fire that rose 
 
 On Troy's curst shore, he sends, 
 Plac'd decent in the mournful urn. 
 
 With many a tear their dead they weep. 
 Their names with many a praise resound ; 
 One for his skill in arms renown'd ; 
 
 One, that amidst the slaughter'd heap 
 Of fierce conflicting foes 
 Glorious in beauty's cause he fell : 
 Yet 'gainst th' avenging chiefs their murmurs 
 
 swell 
 
 In silence. Some in youth's fresh bloom 
 Beneath Troy's tow'rs possess a tomb ; 
 Their bodies buried on the distant strand, 
 Seizing in death the hostile land. 
 Antis. 3. How dreadful, when the people raise 
 
 Loud murmurs mix'd with hate ! 
 Yet this the tribute greatness pays 
 
 For its exalted state. 
 E'en now some dark and horrid deed 
 
 By my presaging soul is fear'd ; 
 For never with unheedfid eyes. 
 
 When slaughter'd thousands bleed. 
 Did the just powers of heav'n regard 
 
 The carnage of th' ensanguin'd plain. 
 The ruthless and oppressive pow'r 
 May triumph for its little hour ; 
 
 Full soon with all their vengeful train 
 The sullen Furies rise, 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 69 
 
 Break his fell force, and whirl him down 
 Thro' life's dark path, unpitied, and unknown. 
 'And dangerous is the pride of fame. 
 Like the red light'ning's dazzling flame. 
 Nor envied wealth, nor conquest let me gain, 
 Nor drag the conqueror's hateful chain. 
 
 Epode. 
 
 But from these fires far streaming through the 
 night 
 
 Fame through the town her progress takes, 
 And rapt'rous joy awakes ; 
 If with truth's auspicious light 
 They shine, who knows ? Her sacred reign 
 Nor fraud, nor falsehood dares profane. 
 But who, in wisdom's school so lightly taught, 
 
 Suffers his ardent thought 
 From these informing flames to catch the fire, 
 
 Full soon perchance in grief t' expire ? 
 Yet when a woman holds the sovereign sway, 
 Obsequious wisdom learns to bow, 
 And hails the joy it does not know ; 
 Though, as the glitt'ring visions roll 
 Before her easy, credulous soul, 
 Their glories fade away. 
 Clyt. Whether these fires, that with successive sig- 
 nals 
 
 Blaze through the night, be true, or like a dream 
 Play with a sweet delusion on the soul, 
 Soon shall we know. A herald from the shore 
 I see ; branches of olive shade his brows. 
 His dusty garb assures me whence he comes, 
 And that with living voice, and not by flames 
 -along the mountains kindled, he will signify 
 
70 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 His message ; yes ; his tongue shall greet our 
 ears 
 
 With words of joy : far from my soul the 
 thought 
 
 Of other, than confirm these fav'ring signals. 
 
 Enter Herald. 
 
 Clytemnestra, Chorus, Herald, 
 
 Her. Hail, thou paternal soil of Argive earth ! 
 In the fair light of the tenth year to thee 
 Return'd, from the sad wreck of many hopes 
 This one I save ; sav'd from despair e'en this ; 
 For never thought I in this honour'd earth 
 To share in death the portion of a tomb. 
 Hail then, lov'd earth ; hail, thou bright sun ; 
 and thou. 
 
 Great guardian of my country, Jove supreme ; 
 Thou, Pythian king, thy shafts no longer 
 wing'd 
 
 For our destruction*; on Scamander's banks 
 Enough we mourn'd thy wrath ; propitious now 
 Come, king Apollo, our defence. And ail 
 Ye Gods, that o'er the works of war preside, 
 I now invoke ; thee. Mercury, my avenger, 
 Rever'd by heralds, that from thee derive 
 Their high employ ; you heroes, to the war 
 That sent us, friendly now receive our troops, 
 The relics of the spear. Imperial walls. 
 Mansion of kings, ye seats revered ; ye Gods, 
 That to the golden sun before these gates 
 Present your honour'd forms ; if e'er of old 
 
 * In allusion to the pestilence inflicted by the death-bearing 
 arrows of Apollo, as told in the 61st line of the first Iliad, 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
 71 
 
 Those eyes with favour have beheld the king, 
 Receive him now, after this length of time, 
 With glory ; for he comes, and with him brings 
 To you, and all, a light that cheers this gloom : 
 Then greet him well ; such honour is his 
 meed, 
 
 The mighty king, that with the mace of Jove 
 Th' avenger, wherewith he subdues the earth, 
 Hath levell'd with the dust the towers of 
 Troy; 
 
 Their altars are o'erturn'd, their sacred shrines, 
 And all the race destroy'd. This iron yoke 
 Fix'd on the neck of Troy, victorious comes 
 The great Atrides, of all mortal men 
 Worthy of highest honours. Paris now, 
 And the perfidious state, shall boast no more 
 His proud deeds unreveng'd : stript of his 
 spoils. 
 
 The debt of justice for his thefts, his rapines, 
 Paid amply, o'er his father's house he spreads 
 With twofold loss the wide-involving ruin. 
 
 Clyt. Hail to thee, herald of the Argive host ! 
 
 Herald. The conflict is well ended. In the tide 
 Of so long time, if 'midst the easy flow 
 Of wish'd events some tyrannous blast assail us, 
 What marvel ? Who, save the blest Gods, can 
 claim 
 
 Through life's whole course an unmixed happi- 
 ness ? 
 
 Should I relate our toils, our wretched plight 
 Wedg'd in our narrow ill-provided cabins. 
 Each irksome hour was loaded with fatigues. 
 Yet these were slight assays to those worse 
 hardships 
 
GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 We suffer'd on the shore : our lodging near 
 The walls of the enemy, the dews of heav'n 
 Fell on us from above, the damps beneath 
 From the moist marsh annoy'd us, shrouded ill 
 In shaggy cov'rings. Or should one relate 
 The winter's keen blasts, which from Ida's 
 snows 
 
 Breathe frore, that pierc'd thro^igh all their 
 
 plumes the birds 
 Shiver and die ; or th' extreme heat that scalds, 
 When in his mid-day caves the sea reclines, 
 And not a breeze disturbs his calm repose. 
 But why lament these sufferings ? They are 
 
 past ; 
 
 Past to the dead indeed ; they lie, no more 
 Anxious to rise. What then avails to count 
 Those, whom the wasteful war hath swept 
 away. 
 
 And with their loss afflict the living ? Rather 
 Bid we farewell to misery : in our scale, 
 Who haply of the Grecian host remain, 
 The good preponderates, and in counterpoise 
 Our loss is light : and, after all our toils 
 By sea and land, before yon golden sun 
 It is our glorious privilege to boast. 
 At length from vanquish'd Troy our warlike 
 troops 
 
 Have to the Gods of Greece brought home 
 these spoils. 
 
 And in their Temples, to record our con- 
 quests, 
 
 Fix'd these proud trophies." Those, that hear 
 
 this boast, 
 It well becomes to gratulate the state, 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
 73 
 
 And the brave chiefs ; revering Jove's high 
 pow'r 
 
 That grac'd our conquering arms. Thou hast 
 my message. 
 
 Chor. Thy words convince me ; ail my doubts are 
 vanished. 
 
 Clyt. Long since my voice raised high each note 
 of joy, 
 
 When through the night the streaming blaze 
 first came, 
 
 That told us Troy was taken : — not unblamed 
 The while: — "what! doth a mountain fire 
 transport 
 
 Thy soul with the fond hope that Ilion's tow'rs 
 Are humbled in the dust ? O woman's heart, 
 Thus lightly credulous !" At this rebuke 
 Though somewhat shaken, yet I sacrificed ; 
 And, as weak women wont, one voice of joy 
 Awoke another, till the city rang 
 Through all its streets ; and at the hallow'd 
 shrines 
 
 Each raised the pious strains of gratitude. 
 And fann'd the altars' incence-breathing flame. 
 But it is needless to detain thee longer. 
 Soon from the king's own lips shall I learn all. 
 How best I may receive my honour'd lord. 
 And grace his wish'd return, now claims my 
 speed. 
 
 Can heav'n's fair beam shew a fond wife a 
 sight 
 
 More grateful than her husband from his wars 
 Return'd with glory, when she opes the gate. 
 And springs to welcome him ? Tell my lord 
 this, 
 
74 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 That he may hasten his desired return : 
 And tell him he will find his faithful wife, 
 Such as he left her, a domestic creature 
 To him all fondness, to his enemies 
 Irreconcileable ; and tell him too 
 That ten long years have not effaced the seal 
 Of constancy, that never knew delight 
 In guilty commerce with another man ; 
 More than the virgin metal in the mine 
 Knows an adulterate and debasing mixture. 
 
 Exit, 
 
 On Clytemnestra leaving the stage, the Chorus 
 questions the herald more minutely concerning 
 the safety and return of King Agamemnon, and 
 learns that immediately on the departure of the 
 fleet from Troy, a dreadful storm arose, which dis- 
 persed the vessels, but that the ship in which the 
 herald sailed, providentially rode out the gale. At 
 the dawn of light, the crew descry the surface of 
 the chafed iEo-ean strewn with floatinoj wrecks and 
 corpses. Still they hope and trust that the gods 
 had preserved their monarch, whom they deemed 
 the peculiar care of Jove. 
 
 Accordingly, at the close of the succeeding ode, 
 which the Chorus sings on hearing the narrative of 
 the herald, Agamemnon enters ; his ship, guided by 
 favouring fortune, having gained the port. The de- 
 sign of this incident of the tempest, seems to have 
 been to account in some measure for the sudden ap- 
 pearance of Agamemnon at Argos, the very day 
 after the fall of Troy. We shall however take oc- 
 casion hereafter to shew, that the common opinion 
 of a strict observance of the unities of time and 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 75 
 
 place being a characteristic of tlie Greek drama, is 
 destitute of any foundation in truth. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Stro. 1. Is there to names a charm profound 
 Expressive of their fates assign'd. 
 Mysterious potency of sound, 
 And truth in wond'rous accord join'd ? 
 Why else this fatal name, 
 That Helen and destruction are the same ? ^ 
 Affianced in contention, led, 
 The spear her dow'ry, to the bridal bed ; 
 
 With desolation in her train. 
 Fatal to martial hosts, to rampir'd towers, 
 From the rich fragrance of her gorgeous 
 bowers. 
 
 Descending to the main. 
 She hastes to spread her flying sails, 
 And calls the earth-born zephyr's gales, 
 Whilst heroes, breathing vengeance, snatch 
 their shields, 
 And trace her light oars o'er the pathless 
 waves. 
 
 To the thick shades fresh waving o'er those 
 fields. 
 
 Which Simois with his silver windings laves, 
 
 Antis. 1. 
 
 To Troy the smiling mischief ^ came, 
 Before her bright-eyed pleasures play, 
 
 * The name Helen signifies the Destroyer, and it was then a 
 universal opinion that names contained in them some presage, or 
 secret reference to the character of the individual who bore them. 
 There is a curious instance of this in the Ajax of Sophocles. 
 
 t Helen. 
 
76 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 But in the rear with stedfast aim 
 
 Grim visaged vengeance marks his prey, 
 Waiting the dreadful hour 
 The terrors of offended Heaven to pour 
 On those that dared, an impious train, 
 The rights of hospitable Jove profane ; 
 
 Nor revered that sacred song, 
 Whose melting strains the bride's approach de- 
 clare, 
 
 As Hymen wakes the rapture-breathing air. 
 Far other notes belong. 
 The voice of mirth now heard no more, 
 To Priam's state : its ruins o'er 
 Wailing instead, distress, and loud lament ; 
 
 Long sorrows sprung from that unholy bed, 
 And many a curse in heart-felt anguish sent 
 On its woe-wedded Paris' hated head. 
 Stro. 2. The woodman, from his thirsty lair, 
 Reft of his dam, a lion bore ; 
 Foster'd his future foe with care 
 To mischiefs he must soon deplore : 
 Gentle and tame, whilst young. 
 Harmless he frisk'd the fondling babes among ; 
 Oft in the father's bosom lay. 
 Oft lick'd his feeding hand in fawning play ; 
 
 Till, conscious of his firmer age. 
 His lion-race the lordly savage shows ; 
 No more his youth-protecting cottage knows. 
 But with insatiate rage 
 Flies on the flocks, a baleful guest. 
 And riots in th' unbidden feast : 
 Whilst through his mangled folds the hapless 
 swain 
 
 With horror sees the unbounded carnage 
 spread ; 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
 77 
 
 And learns too late from th' infernal reign 
 A priest of Ate * in his house was bred, 
 Antis. 2, To Ilion's towers in wanton state 
 
 With speed she wings her easy way ; 
 Soft gales obedient round her wait, 
 And pant on the delighted sea. 
 Attendant on her side 
 The richest ornaments of splendid pride : 
 The darts, whose golden points inspire, 
 Shot from her eyes, the flames of soft desire ; 
 
 The youthful bloom of rosy love, 
 That fills with ecstasy the willing soul ; 
 With duteous zeal obey her sweet control. 
 But, such the doom of Jove, 
 Vindictive round her nuptial bed. 
 With threat'ning mien and footstep dread, 
 Rushes, to Priam and his state severe. 
 
 To rend the bleeding heart his stern delight, 
 And from the bridal eye to force the tear, 
 Erinnys 'f, rising from the realms of night. 
 Epod. From every mouth we oft have heard 
 This saying, for its age revered ; 
 " With joy we see our offspring rise, 
 And happy, who not childless dies : 
 But fortune, when her flowerets blow, 
 Oft bears the bitter fruit of woe." 
 Though these saws are as truths allow'd, 
 Thus I dare differ from the crowd, 
 
 * In the Greek mythology tlie goddess of all evil. 
 
 f The Furies, or supposed ministers of the vengeance of the 
 gods in the Greek mythology, were, in their sterner attributes, 
 known by the name of Erynnies, in their gentler, by that of the 
 Eumevicles. In the latter capacity they will appear as giving a 
 name to one of the Tragedies in the present volume. 
 
78 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 " One base deed, with prolific power, 
 Like its curst stock engenders more : 
 But to the just, with blooming grace 
 Still flourishes, a beauteous race." 
 
 The old injustice joys to breed 
 Her young, instinct with villainous deed ; 
 The young her destined hour will find 
 To rush in mischief on mankind : 
 She too in Ate's murky cell, 
 Brings forth the hideous child of hell, 
 A burden to the offended sky, 
 The power of bold impiety. 
 
 But Justice bids her ray divine 
 E'en on the low-roof 'd cottage shine ; 
 And beams her glories on the life, 
 That knows not fraud, nor ruffian strife. 
 The gorgeous glare of gold, obtain'd 
 By foul polluted hands, disdain'd 
 She leaves, and with averted eyes 
 To humbler, holier mansions flies ; 
 And looking through the times to come 
 Assigns each deed its righteous doom. 
 
 Enter Agamemnon. 
 
 Chorus, Agamemnon. 
 
 Chor. My royal lord, by whose victorious hand 
 The towers of Troy are fali'n, illustrious son 
 Of Atreus, with what words, what reverence 
 Shall I address thee, not to o'erleap the bounds 
 Of modest duty, nor to sink beneath 
 An honourable welcome ? Some there are, 
 That form themselves to seem, more than to be, 
 Transgressing honesty : to him that feels 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 79 
 
 Misfortune's rugged hand, full many a tongue 
 Shall drop condolence, though th' unfeeling heart 
 Knows not the touch of sorrow ; these again 
 In fortune's summer gale with the like art 
 Shall dress in forced smiles the unwilling face : 
 But him the penetrating eye soon marks, 
 That in the seemly garb of honest zeal 
 Attempts to clothe his meagre blandishments. 
 When first in Helen's cause my royal lord 
 Levied his host, let me not hide the truth, 
 Notes, other than of music, echoed wide 
 In loud complaints from such as deem'd him 
 rash. 
 
 And void of reason, by constraint to plant 
 In breasts averse the martial soul, that glows 
 Despising death. But now their eager zeal 
 Streams friendly to those chiefs, whose pros- 
 perous valour 
 Is crown'd with conquest. Soon then shalt 
 thou learn. 
 
 As each supports the state, or strives to rend it 
 With faction, who reveres thy dignity. 
 Agam. To Argos first, and to my country Gods, 
 I bow with reverence, by whose holy guidance 
 On Troy's proud towers I pour'd their righte- 
 ous vengeance. 
 And now revisit safe my native soil. 
 No loud-tongued pleader heard, they judged 
 the cause, 
 
 And in the bloody urn * without one vote 
 
 * Judgment was anciently given by ballot, each person who 
 had a voice in the decision being furnished with a shell, which he 
 east into the acquitting or condemning urn, according as he deemed 
 the accused party innocent or guilty ; a majority of votes deter- 
 
80 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Dissentient, cast the lots that fix'd the fate 
 Of Ilion and its sons : the other vase 
 Left empty, save of widow'd hope. The smoke, 
 RoUing in dusky wreaths, shows that the town 
 Is fall'n ; the fiery storm yet hves, and high 
 The dying ashes toss rich clouds of wealth 
 Consumed. For this behoves us to the Gods 
 To render grateful thanks, and that they 
 spread 
 
 The net of fate sweeping with angry ruin. 
 In beauty's cause the Argive monster * rear'd 
 Its bvdk enormous, to th' affrighted town 
 Portending devastation ; in its womb 
 Hiding embattled hosts, rush'd furious forth, 
 About the setting of the Pleiades, 
 And, as a lion rav'ning for its prey, 
 Ramp'd o'er their walls, and lapp'd the blood 
 of kings. 
 
 This to the Gods address'd, I turn me now 
 Attentive to thy caution : I approve 
 Thy just remark, and with my voice confirm it. 
 Few have the fortitude of soul to honour 
 A friend's success, without a touch of envy ^ 
 For that malignant passion to the heart 
 Cleaves close, and with a double burden loads 
 The man infected with it : first he feels 
 In all their weight his own calamities. 
 Then sighs to see the happiness of others. 
 This of my own experience have I learn'd ; 
 And this I know, that many, who in public 
 Have borne the semblance of my firmest friends. 
 
 mined the cause. Farther on the reader will see the forms at large, 
 in the trial of Orestes in the Furies. 
 * The wooden horse. 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF yESCIIYLUS. 81 
 
 Are but the flatt'ring image of a shadow 
 Reflected from a mirror : save Ulysses, 
 Alone, who, though averse to join our arms, 
 Yoked in his martial harness, from my side 
 Swerved not ; living or dead be this his praise. 
 But what concerns our kingdom and the Gods, 
 Holding a general council of the state. 
 We will consult ; that what is well may keep 
 Its goodness permanent, and what requires 
 L- Our healing hand, with mild severity 
 May be corrected. But my royal roof 
 Now will I visit, and before its hearths 
 Offer libations to the gods, who sent me 
 To this far distant war, and led me back. 
 Firm stands the victory that attends our arms. 
 
 Enter Clytemnestra. 
 
 Clytemnestra, Agamemnon, Chorus. 
 
 Clyt. Friends, fellow-citizens, whose counsels guide 
 The state of Argos, in your reverend presence 
 A wife's fond love I blush not to disclose : 
 Thus habit softens dread. From my full heart 
 Will I recount my melancholy life 
 Through the long stay of my loved lord at Troy : 
 For a weak woman, in her husband's absence, 
 Pensive to sit and lonely in her house, 
 'Tis dismal, list'ning to each frightful tale : 
 First one alarms her, then another comes 
 Charged with worse tidings. Had my poor 
 lord here 
 
 Suffer'd as many wounds as common fame 
 Reported, like a net he had been pierced : 
 
 G 
 
32 
 
 OREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Had he been slain oft as the loud-tongued 
 
 o 
 
 rumour 
 
 Was noised abroad, this Geryon * triple -form'dj 
 A second of the name, whilst yet alive, 
 For of the dead I speak not, well might boast 
 To have received his triple mail, to die 
 In each form singly. Such reports oppress'd me, 
 Till life became distasteful, and my hands 
 Were prompted oft to deeds of desperation. 
 Nor is thy son Orestes, the dear tie 
 That binds us each to th' other, present here 
 To aid me, as he ought : nay, marvel not, 
 The friendly Strophius with a right strong arm 
 Protects him in Phocaea ; whilst his care 
 Saw danger threaten in a double form. 
 The loss of thee at Troy, the anarchy 
 That might ensue, should madness drive the 
 people 
 
 To deeds of violence, as men are prompt 
 Insultingly to trample on the fall'n : 
 Such care dwells not with fraud. At thy return 
 The gushing fountains of my tears are dried. 
 Save that my eyes are weak with midnight 
 watchings, 
 
 Straining, through tears, if haply they might see 
 Thy signal fires, that claim'd my fix'd atten- 
 tion. 
 
 If they w^ere closed in sleep, a silly fly 
 W^ould, with its slightest raurm'rings, make me 
 start, 
 
 * Geiyon was a king of Spain, fabled to have three bodies, 
 because he had three armies commanded by his three sons ; he 
 was killed by Hercules* 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 S3 
 
 And wake me to more fears. For thy dear sake 
 All this I suffer 'd : but my jocund heart 
 Forgets it all, whilst I behold my lord, 
 My guardian, the strong anchor of my hope, 
 The stately column that supports my house, 
 Dear as an only child to a fond parent ; 
 Welcome as land, which the tost mariner 
 Beyond his hope descries ; welcome as day 
 After a night of storms with fairer beams 
 Returning ; welcome as the liquid lapse 
 Of fountain to the thirsty traveller : 
 So pleasant is it to escape the chain 
 Of hard constraint. Such greeting I esteem 
 Due to thy honour : let it not offend. 
 For I have sufler'd much. But, my loved lord, 
 Leave now that car ; nor on the bare ground set 
 That royal foot, beneath whose mighty tread 
 Troy trembled. Haste, ye virgins, to whose 
 care 
 
 This pleasing office is entrusted, spread 
 The streets with tapestry ; let the ground be 
 cover'd 
 
 With richest purple, leading to the palace ; 
 That honour with just state may grace his 
 entry. 
 
 Though unexpected. My attentive care. 
 Shall, if the Gods permit, dispose the rest 
 To welcome his high glories, as I ought. 
 Agam. Daughter of Leda, guardian of my house, 
 Thy words are correspondent to my absence, 
 Of no small length. With better grace my 
 praise 
 
 Would come from others : soothe me not with 
 strains 
 
84 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Of adulation, as a girl ; nor raise, 
 As to some proud barbaric king, that loves 
 Loud acclamations echoed from the mouths 
 Of prostrate worshippers, a clamorous wel- 
 come : 
 
 Nor spread the streets with tapestry ; 'tis in- 
 vidious ; 
 
 These are the honours we should pay the Gods. 
 For mortal man to tread on ornaments 
 Of rich embroid'ry — No : I dare not do it : 
 Respect me as a man, not as a God. 
 Why should my foot pollute these vests, that 
 glow 
 
 With various tinctured radiance ? My full fame 
 Swells high without it ; and the temperate rule 
 Of cool discretion is the choicest gift 
 Of fav'ring Heaven. Happy the man, whose life 
 Is spent in friendship's calm security. 
 These sober joys be mine, I ask no more. 
 
 Clyt. Do not thou thwart the purpose of my mind. 
 
 Agam. Art thou so earnest to obtain thy wish ? 
 
 Clyt. Let me prevail : indulge me with this con- 
 quest. 
 
 Agam. If such thy will, haste some one, from my 
 feet 
 
 Unloose these high-bound buskins, lest some 
 God 
 
 Look down indignant, if with them I press 
 These vests sea-tinctur'd : shame it were to 
 spoil 
 
 With unclean tread their rich and costly tex- 
 ture. 
 
 Of these enough. — This stranger, let her find 
 A gentle treatment : from high heaven the God 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 85 
 
 Looks with an eye of favour on the victor 
 That bears his high state meekly ; for none 
 wears 
 
 Of his free choice the yoke of slavery. 
 
 And she, of many treasures the prime flower 
 
 Selected by the troops, has follow'd me. 
 
 Clytemnestra, stung perhaps by this affectionate 
 recommendation of Cassandra, replies in terms of 
 seeming congratulation and respect for her husband's 
 power and prowess, but clokes under this veil of 
 adulation a prayer for the accomplishment of her 
 secret wishes for his destruction. Hereupon the 
 Chorus, though still unconscious of her design, 
 rapt and inspired with prophetic visions of ap- 
 proaching calamity, utters the following woe-de- 
 nouncing strain : 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Stro. 1. What may this mean ? Along the skies 
 Why do these dreadful portents roll ? 
 Visions of terror, spare my aching eyes^ 
 Nor shake my sad presaging soul ! 
 In accents dread, not tuned in vain. 
 Why bursts the free, unbidden strain ? 
 These are no phantoms of the night, 
 That vanish at the faithful light 
 Of steadfast confidence. Thou sober power. 
 Whither, ah, whither art thou gone ? 
 
 For since the long passed hour. 
 When first for Troy the naval band 
 Unmoor'd their vessels from the strand. 
 Thou hast not in my bosom fix'd thy throne. 
 
86 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Antis. 1. At length they come: these faithful 
 eyes, 
 
 See them retm'n'd to Greece again : 
 Yet, while the sullen lyre in silence lies, 
 Erinnys wakes the mournful strain : 
 Her dreadful powers possess my soul, 
 And bid the vmtaught measures roll ; 
 Swell in rude notes the dismal lay. 
 And fright enchanting hope away ; 
 Whilst, ominous of ill, grim-visaged care 
 
 Incessant whirls my tortured heart. 
 Vain be each anxious fear ! 
 
 Return, fair hope, thy seat resume. 
 Dispel this melancholy gloom. 
 And to my soul thy gladsome light impart ! 
 Stro. 2. Ah me, what hope ! this mortal state 
 Nothing but cruel change can know. 
 Should cheerful health our vig'rous steps await, 
 Enkindling all her roseate glow ; 
 Disease creeps on with silent pace. 
 And withers ev'ry blooming grace. 
 Proud sails the bark ; the fresh gales breathe. 
 And dash her on the rocks beneath. 
 In the rich house her treasures plenty pours : 
 Comes sloth, and from her well-poised slinjc 
 
 Scatters the piled up stores. 
 Disease yet makes not all her prey : 
 Nor sinks the bark beneath the sea : 
 And famine sees the heaven-sent harvest spring. 
 Antis. 2. But when forth-welling from the wound 
 The purple-streaming blood shall fall, 
 And the warm tide distain the reeking ground, 
 Who shall the vanish'd life recal ? 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 .87 
 
 Nor verse, nor music's magic pow'r, 
 Nor the fam'd leech's * boasted lore ; 
 Not that his art restored the dead, 
 Jove's thunder burst upon his head. — 
 
 But that the Fates forbid, and chain my tongue, 
 My heart, at inspiration's call, 
 
 Would the rapt strain prolong : 
 Now all is dark ; it raves in vain. 
 And, as it pants with trembling pain, 
 
 Desponding feels its fiery transports fall. 
 
 Clytemnestra, Cassandra, Chorus. 
 
 Clyt. Thou, too, Cassandra, enter ; since high Jove, 
 Gracious to thee, hath placed thee in this house, 
 With many slaves to share the common rites. 
 And deck the altar of the fav'ring God, 
 Come from that chariot, and let temperance rule 
 Thy lofty spirit ; e'en Alcmena's son -f, 
 Sold as a slave, submitted to the yoke 
 
 * ^sculapius, son of Apollo, and inventor of Medicine. Pluto 
 complained of him, as Death did of Burns's Doctor Hornbook, that 
 he restored his patients even after the fatal dart had been launched 
 against them ; whereupon, as the poets tell, Jupiter struck him with 
 thunder that he died. 
 
 f Hercules : he had wantonly murdered Iphitus son of Eurytus 
 king of CEchaha, some say in a fit of insanity produced by love of 
 the youth's sister. In punishment of this crime the Gods inflicted a 
 disease upon him, from which finding no relief by ordinary means, 
 he consulted the oracle of Apollo, and was commanded to sell 
 himself for a slave, and to send the purchase money to the family 
 of Iphitus. In compliance with the voice of the god, he prevailed 
 upon Mercury to sell him to Omphale queen of M^eonia, in Asia 
 Minor. The story of their loves and her correction of the hero 
 with her slipper, is probably familiar to the reader. This is perhaps 
 one of the earhest notices we have of a were-gild, eruic, or finefpr 
 homicide; paid to the relations of the murdered party. 
 
88 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Perforce ; and if necessity's hard hand 
 Hath sunk thee to this fortune, our high rank. 
 With greatness long acquainted, knows to use 
 Its power with gentleness : the low-born wretch, 
 That from his mean degree rises at once 
 To unexpected riches, treats his slaves 
 With barbarous and unbounded insolence. 
 From us thou wilt receive a juster treatment. 
 Chor. She speaks what best beseems thy present 
 state ; 
 
 Follow, submit, and leave that lofty car. 
 
 Clyt. I have not leisure here before the gates 
 T' attend on her ; for at the inmost altar, 
 Blazing with sacred fires, the victims stand 
 Devoted to the Gods for his return 
 So much beyond our hopes. If to comply 
 Thou form thy mind, delay not : If thy tongue 
 Knows not to sound our language, let thy signs 
 Supply the place of words, speak with thy hand. 
 
 Chor. Of foreign birth, she understands us not ; 
 But as new taken struggles in the net. 
 
 Clyt. 'Tis phrensy this, the impulse of a mind 
 Disorder'd ; from a city lately taken 
 She comes, and knows not how to bear the 
 curb, 
 
 'Till she has spent her rage in bloody foam * ; 
 But I no more waste words to be disdain'd.- 
 Chor. My words, for much I pity her, shall bear 
 No mark of anger. Go, unhappy fair one, 
 Forsake thy chariot, unreluctant learn 
 To bear this new yoke of necessity. 
 
 * This is one of the instances of a covert mode of expression, in 
 which more is meant than meets the ear, that occur so frequently 
 in the speeches of Clytemnestra. 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 89 
 
 Cass. Woe ! woe ! O Earth, Apollo, O Apollo ! 
 Chor. Why with that voice of vv^oe invoke Apollo ? 
 
 Ill do these notes of grief accord with him. 
 Cass. Woe, woe ! O Earth ! Apollo, O Apollo ! 
 Chor. Again her inauspicious voice invokes 
 
 The God, whose ears are not attuned to woe. 
 Cass. Apollo, O Apollo, fatal leader. 
 
 Yet once more, God, thou leadest me to ruin ! 
 Chor. She seems prophetic of her own misfortunes, 
 
 Retaining, though a slave, the divine spirit. 
 Cass. Apollo, O Apollo, fatal leader. 
 
 Ah, whither hast thou led me ? to what house ? 
 Chor. Is that unknown ? Let me declare it then : 
 
 This is the royal mansion of th' Atridae. 
 Cass. It is a mansion hated by the Gods, 
 
 Conscious to many a foul and horrid deed ; 
 
 A slaughter house, that reeks with human gore. 
 Chor. This stranger seems, like the nice-scented 
 hound. 
 
 Quick in the trace of blood, which she will find. 
 Cass. These are convincing proofs. Look there, 
 look there. 
 
 Whilst pity drops a tear, the children butcher'd, 
 The father feasting on their roasted flesh ! 
 
 Chor. Thy fame, prophetic virgin, we have heard ; 
 We know thy skill ; but wish no prophets now. 
 
 Cass. Ye powers of Heaven, what does she now de- 
 sign ? 
 
 What new and dreadful deed of woe is this ? 
 What dreadful ill designs she in the house, 
 Intolerable, irreparable mischief. 
 Whilst far she sends the succouring power 
 away ? 
 
 Chor. These prophecies surpass my apprehension : 
 The first I knew ; — they echo through the city. 
 
90 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Cass. Ah daring wretch, dost thou achieve tliis 
 deed, 
 
 Thus in the bath the partner of thy bed 
 Refreshing ? How shall I relate th' event ? 
 Yet speedy shall it be. E'en now advanc'd 
 Hand above hand extended threatens high. 
 
 Chor. I comprehend her not ; her words are dark, 
 Perplexing me like abstruse oracles. 
 
 Cass. Ha ! What is this, that I see here before me ? 
 Is it the net of hell ? or rather hers 
 Who shares the bed and plans the murderous 
 deed ? 
 
 Let discord, whose insatiable rage 
 Pursues this race, howl through the royal 
 rooms 
 
 Against the victim destined to destruction. 
 
 CiioR. What Fury dost thou call within this house 
 To hold her orgies ? The dread invocation 
 Appals me, to my heart the purple drops 
 Flow back ; a deathlike mist covers my eyes, 
 With expectation of some sudden ruin. 
 
 Cass. See, see there : from the heifer keep the 
 bull !— 
 
 O'er his black brows she throws th' entangling 
 vest. 
 
 And smites him with her huge two-handed 
 engine. 
 
 He falls, amidst the cleansing laver falls : 
 I tell thee of the bath, the treach'rous bath. 
 CiiOR. T' unfold the oracles obscure of Heaven 
 Is not my boast ; beneath the shadowing veil 
 Misfortune lies : When did th' inquirer learn 
 From the dark sentence an event of joy ? 
 From time's first records the diviner's voice 
 Gives the sad heart a sense of misery. 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS, 
 
 91 
 
 Cass. Ah me unhappy ! V\^retched, wretched fate ! 
 For my own sufferings join'd call forth these 
 waihngs. 
 
 Why hast thou brought me hither ? Wretched 
 me ! 
 
 Is it for this, that I may die with him ? 
 Chor. This is the phrensy of a mind possess'd 
 
 With wildest ravings. Thy own woes thou 
 wailest 
 
 In mournful melody ; like the sweet bird 
 That darkling pours her never-ceasing plaint ; 
 And for her Itys, her lost Itys, wastes 
 In sweetest woe her melancholy life. 
 
 Cass. Ah me ! the fortune of the nightingale 
 
 Is to be envied : on her light-poised plumes 
 She wings at will her easy way, nor knows 
 The anguish of a tear, whilst o'er my head 
 Th' impending sword threatens the fatal wound. 
 
 Chor. Whence is this violent, this wild presage 
 Of ill ? Thy fears are vain ; yet with a voice 
 That terrifies, though sweet, aloud thou speakest 
 Thy sorrows. Whence hast thou derived these 
 omens. 
 
 Thus deeply mark'd with characters of death ? 
 Cass. Alas the bed, the bridal bed of Paris, 
 
 Destructive to his friends ! Paternal stream, 
 Scamander, on thy banks with careless steps 
 My childhood stray'd : but now methinks I go, 
 Alas, how soon ! to prophesy around 
 Cocytus -i", and the banks of Acheron ! 
 
 * Philomela : the story is similar to that offensive one of Lavinia, 
 jn Titus Andronicus. 
 
 f Cocytus and Acheron, rivers in the infernal regions of the 
 ancient poets. 
 
92 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Chor. Perspicuous this, and clear ! the new-born 
 babe 
 
 Might comprehend it : but thy piercing griefs 
 Bewailing thus the miseries of thy fate, 
 Strike deep ; they wound me to my very soul. 
 Cass. Ah my poor country, my poor bleeding 
 country, 
 
 Fall'n, fall'n for ever ! And you, sacred altars. 
 That blazed before my father's towered palace, 
 Not all your victims could avert your doom ! 
 And on the earth soon shall my warm blood 
 flow. 
 
 Chor. This is consistent with thy former ravings. 
 Or does some God indeed incumbent press 
 Thy soul, and modulate thy voice to utter 
 These lamentable notes of woe and death ? 
 What the event shall be, exceeds my know- 
 ledge. 
 
 Cass. The oracle no more shall shroud its visage 
 Beneath a veil, as a new bride that blushes 
 To meet the gazing eye ; but like the sun. 
 When with his orient ray he gilds the east, 
 Shall burst upon you in a flood of light. 
 Disclosing deeds of deeper dread. Away, 
 Ye mystic coverings ! And you, reverend men. 
 Bear witness to me, that with steady step 
 I trace foul deeds that smell above the earth. 
 For never shall that band, whose yelling notes 
 In dismal accord pierce th' affrighted ear. 
 Forsake this house. The genius of the feast. 
 Drunk with the blood of men, and fired from 
 thence 
 
 To bolder daring, ranges through the rooms 
 Link'd with his kindred Furies : these possess 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 93 
 
 The mansion, and in horrid measures chaunt 
 The first base deed * ; recording with ab- 
 horrence 
 
 Th' adulterous lust, that stain'd a brother's bed. 
 What, like a skilful archer, have I lodged 
 My arrow in the mark ? No trifling this, 
 T' alarm you with false sounds. But swear 
 to me, 
 
 In solemn attestation, that I know, 
 And speak the old offences of this house. 
 Chor. In such a rooted ill what healing power 
 
 Resides there in an oath ? But much I marvel 
 That thou, the native of a foreign realm, 
 Of foreign tongue, canst speak our language 
 freely, 
 
 As Greece had been thy constant residence. 
 Cass. Apollo graced me with this wondrous skill. 
 Chor. Did the God feel the force of young desire ? 
 Cass. Why ask what shame at first forbad to speak? 
 Chor. In each gay breast ease fans the wanton 
 flame. 
 
 Cass. (Sighs,) And he breath'd all of love's im- 
 patient fervour ! 
 
 Chor. And didst thou listen to his tempting lures ? 
 
 Cass. First I assented, then deceived the God. 
 
 Chor. Wast thou then fraught with these pro- 
 phetic arts ? 
 
 Cass. E'en then I told my country all its woes. 
 Chor. The anger of the God fell heavy on thee ? 
 Cass. My voice, for this offence, lost all persuasion. 
 Chor. To us it seems a voice of truth divine. 
 
 * Properly the crime of Tantalus was the first, but it is more 
 probable that the incestuous adultery of his grandson Thyestes, 
 with iErope, his brother Atreus' wife, is here intended. 
 
94 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Cass. Woe, woe is me ! Again the furious power 
 Swells in my lab'ring breast ; again commands 
 My bursting voice ; and what I speak is Fate. — 
 Look, look, behold those children. — There they 
 sit ; 
 
 Such are the forms, that in the troubled night 
 Distract our sleep. — By a friend's hands they 
 died : 
 
 Are these the ties of blood? — See, in their 
 hands 
 
 Their mangled limbs, horrid repast, they bear : 
 Til' invited father shares th' accursed feast. 
 For this the sluggard savage, that at ease 
 Rolls on his bed, nor rouses from his lair, 
 'Gainst my returning lord, for I must wear 
 The yoke of slavery, plans the dark design 
 Of death. Ah me ! the chieftain of the fleet, 
 The vanquisher of Troy, but little knows 
 What ^the smooth tongue of mischief, filed to 
 words 
 
 Of glozing courtesy, with Fate her friend. 
 Like Ate ranging in the dark, can do 
 Calmly : such deeds a woman dares : she dares 
 Murder a man. What shall I call this mischief? 
 An Amphisbaena *? or a Scylla rather. 
 That in the vex'd rocks holds her residence, 
 
 * A. venoTTious and deadly serpent of the Libyan desert, re- 
 markable for having two heads. Milton, in describing the trans- 
 formation of the fallen angels in Pandsemonium into serpents, 
 writes 
 
 " Dreadful was the din 
 
 Of hissing through the hall ; thick swarming now 
 With complicated m.onsters, head and tail 
 Scorpion and asp and amphisbsena dire." 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 95 
 
 And meditates the mariner's destruction ? 
 Mother of Flell, 'midst friends enkindhng dis« 
 cord 
 
 And hate implacable ! With dreadful daring 
 How did she shout, as if the battle swerved ? 
 Yet with feign'd joy she welcomes his return. — - 
 These words may want persuasion. What of 
 that? 
 
 W^hat must come, will come : and e'er long 
 with grief 
 
 Thou shalt confess my prophecies are true. 
 Chor. Thyestes' bloody feast oft have I heard of, 
 
 Always with horror ; and I tremble now 
 
 Hearing th' unaggravated truth. What else 
 
 She utters, leads my wand'ring thoughts astray 
 
 In wild uncertainty. 
 Cass. Then mark me well, 
 
 Thou shalt behold the death of Agamemnon 
 Chor. To better omens tune that voice unbless'd, 
 
 Or in eternal silence be it sunk. 
 Cass. This is an ill no medicine can heal. 
 Chor. Not if it happen : but avert it, Heav'n ! 
 Cass. Ah, what a sudden flame comes rushing on 
 me ! 
 
 I burn, I burn. Apollo, O Apollo ! 
 
 This lioness, that in a sensual sty 
 
 Roll'd with the wolf, the generous lion absent, 
 
 W'iil kill me. And the sorceress, as she brews 
 
 Her philter ed cup, will drug it with my blood. 
 
 She glories, as against her husband's life 
 
 * To account for the inaction of the Chorus, even after this ex- 
 plicit declaration, the reader must bear in mind the effect of Apollo's 
 kiss, in consequence of which no credit was ever to be given to the 
 predictions of Cassandra, however true. 
 
96 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 She whets the axe, her vengeance falls on him 
 For that he came accompanied by me. — 
 Why do I longer wear these useless honours, 
 This laurel wand, and these prophetic wreaths ? 
 Away ; before I die I cast you from me ; 
 Lie there, and perish ; I am rid of you ; 
 Or deck the splendid ruin of some other. 
 Apollo rends from me these sacred vestments, 
 Who saw me in his rich habiliments 
 Mock'd 'midst my friends, doubtless without a 
 cause. 
 
 When in opprobrious terms they jeer 'J my 
 skill. 
 
 And treated me as a poor vagrant wretch. 
 That told events from door to door for bread, 
 I bore it all : but now the prophet God, 
 That with his own arts graced me, sinks me 
 dovv'n 
 
 To this low ruin. As my father fell 
 Butcher'd e'en at the altar, like the victim's 
 My warm blood at the altar shall be shed : 
 Nor shall we die vmhonour'd by the Gods. 
 He comes, dreadful in punishment, the son 
 Of this bad mother, by her death t' avenge 
 His murder'd father : Distant though he roams. 
 An outcast and an exile, by his friends 
 Fenced from these deeds of violence, he comes 
 In solemn vengeance for his father laid 
 Thus low — But why for foreign miseries 
 Does the tear darken in my eye, that saw 
 The fall of Ilium, and its haughty conq'rors 
 
 * The fulfilment of this prophecy forms the subject of the next 
 tragedy of this trilogy. 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLUS. 
 
 97 
 
 In righteous judgment thus receive their meed? 
 But forward now ; I go to close the scene, 
 Nor shrink from death. I have a vow in 
 heaven : 
 
 And further I adjure these gates of Hell, 
 Well may the blow be aim'd, that whilst my 
 blood 
 
 Flows in a copious stream, I may not feel 
 The fierce, convulsive agonies of death ; 
 But gently sink, and close my eyes in peace. 
 Chor. Unhappy, in thy knowledge most unhappy, 
 Long have thy sorrows flow'd. But if indeed 
 Thou dost foresee thy death, why, like the 
 heifer 
 
 Led by an heav'nly impulse, do thy steps 
 Advance thus boldly to the cruel altar ? 
 
 Cass. I could not by delay escape my fate. 
 
 Chor. True ; but to die with glory crowns our 
 praise. 
 
 Cass. So died my father, so his noble sons. 
 Chor. What may this mean ? Why backward dost 
 thou start? 
 
 Do thy own thoughts with horror strike thy 
 soul ? 
 
 Cass. The scent of blood and death breathes from 
 this house. 
 
 Chor. The victims now are bleeding at the altar. 
 
 Cass. 'Tis such a smell as issues from the tomb. 
 
 Chor. This is no Syrian odour in the house. 
 
 Cass. Such though it be, I enter, to bewail 
 
 My fate, and Agamemnon's. To have lived, 
 Let it suffice. And think not, gen'rous 
 strangers, 
 
 Like the poor bird that flutters o'er the bough, 
 
 h 
 
98 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Through fear I hnger. But my dying words 
 You will remember, when her blood shall flow 
 For mine, woman's for woman's ; and the man's, 
 For his that fails by his accursed wife. 
 Chor. Thy fate, poor sufferer, fills my eyes with 
 tears. 
 
 Cass. Yet once more let me raise my mournful 
 voice. 
 
 Thou Sun, whose rising beams shall bless no 
 more 
 
 These closing eyes ! you, whose vindictive rage 
 Hangs o'er my hated murderers, Oh avenge 
 me, 
 
 Though a poor slave, I fall an easy prey ! 
 This is the state of man : in prosperous fortune 
 A shadow, passing light, throws to the ground 
 Joy's baseless fabric: in adversity 
 Comes malice with a sponge moisten'd in gall, 
 And wipes each beauteous character away : 
 More than the first this melts my soul to pity. 
 Chor. By nature man is form'd with boundless wishes 
 For prosperous fortune ; and the great man's 
 door 
 
 Stands ever open to that envied person 
 On whom she smiles : but enter not with words 
 Like this, poor suflerer, of such dreadful import. 
 His a 'ms the pow ers of heaven have graced with 
 conquest ; 
 
 Troy's proud walls lie in dust ; and he returns 
 Crown'd by the Gods with glory : but if now 
 His blood must for the blood there shed atone. 
 If he must die for those that died, too dearly 
 He buys his triumph. Who of mortal men 
 Hears this, and dares to think his state secure ? 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 99 
 
 Agam. (within) Oh, I am wounded with a deadly 
 blow. 
 
 Semi-chor. List, list. What cry is this of wounds 
 and death ? 
 
 Agam. Wounded again, Oh, basely, basely murder'd. 
 Semi-chor. 'Tis the king's cry ; the dreadful deed is 
 doing. 
 
 What shall we do? what measures shall we 
 form ? 
 
 Semi-chor. What if we spread th' alarm, and with 
 
 our outcries 
 Call at the palace gates the citizens ? 
 Semi-chor. Nay rather rush we in, and prove the 
 
 deed. 
 
 Whilst the fresh blood is reeking on the sword. 
 Semi-chor. There's reason in thy words. Best enter 
 then, 
 
 And see what fate attends the son of Atreus. 
 Clytemnestra, Chorus. 
 
 Clyt. To many a fair speech suited to the times 
 If my words now be found at variance, 
 I shall not blush. For when the heart conceives 
 Thoughts of deep vengeance on a foe, what 
 
 means 
 
 T' achieve the deed more certain, than to wear 
 The form of friendship, and with circling wiles 
 Inclose him in th' insuperable net ? 
 This was no hasty, rash-conceiv'd design ; 
 But form'd with deep, premeditated thought, 
 Incensed with wrongs ; and often have I stood, 
 T' assay the execution, where he fell ; 
 And plann'd it so, for I with pride avow it : 
 He had no power t' escape, or to resist, 
 
100 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Entangled in the gorgeous robe, that shone 
 Fatally rich. I struck him twice, and twice 
 He groan'd, then died. A third time as he lay 
 I gored him with a wound ; a grateful present 
 To the stern god that in the realms below 
 Reigns o'er the dead : there let him take his seat. 
 He lay ; and spouting from his wounds a stream 
 Of blood, bedew'd me with these crimson drops« 
 I glory in them, like the genial earth. 
 When the warm showers of heaven descend, 
 and wake 
 
 The flow'rets to unfold their vermeil leaves. 
 Come then, ye reverend senators of Argos, 
 Joy with me, if your hearts be tuned to joy ; 
 And such I wish them. Were it decent now 
 To pour libations o'er the dead, justly 
 It might be done ; for his injurious pride 
 Fill'd for this house the cup of desolation, 
 Fated himself to drain it to the dregs. 
 Chor. We are astonish'd at thy daring words, 
 Thus vaunting o'er the ruins of thy husband. 
 What poison hath the baleful-teeming earth. 
 Or the chafed billows of the foamy sea, 
 Given thee for food, or mingled in thy cup, 
 To work thee to this phrensy ? Thy cursed hand 
 Hath struck, hath slain. For this thy country's 
 wrath 
 
 Shall in just vengeance burst upon thy head. 
 And with abhorrence drive thee from the city. 
 Clyt. And dost thou now denounce upon my head 
 Vengeance, and hate, and exile ? 'Gainst this 
 man 
 
 Urging no charge ! Yet he without remorse, 
 As if a lamb that wanton'd in his pastures 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 101 
 
 Were doom'd to bleed, could sacrifice his 
 daughter, 
 
 (For whose dear sake I felt a mother's pains,) 
 T' appease the winds of Thrace. Should not 
 thy voice 
 
 Adjudge this man to exile, in just vengeance 
 For such unholy deeds ? Scarce hast thou heard 
 What I have done, but sentence is pronounced, 
 And that with rigour too. But mark me well, 
 I boldly tell thee that I bear a soul 
 Prepared for either fortune : if thy hand 
 Be stronger, use thy power : but if the Gods 
 Prosper my course, be thou assured, old man, 
 Thou shalt be taught a lesson of discretion. 
 Chor. Aspiring are thy thoughts, and thy proud 
 vaunts 
 
 Swell with disdain ; e'en yet thy madding mind 
 Is drunk with slaughter ; with a savage grace 
 The thick blood stains thine eye. But soon 
 thy friends 
 
 Faithless shall shrink from thy unshelter'd side, 
 And leave thee to just vengeance, blow for 
 blow. 
 
 Clyt. Hear then this solemn oath : By that revenge, 
 Which for my daughter I have greatly taken ; 
 By the dread powers of Ate and Erinnys, 
 To whom my hand devoted him a victim, 
 W' ithout a thought of fear I range these rooms, 
 Whilst present to my aid ^Egisthus stands, 
 As he hath stood, guarding my social hearth : 
 He is my shield, my strength, my confidence. 
 Here lies my base betrayer, who at Troy 
 Could revel in the arms of each Chryseis ; 
 He, and his captive minion ; she that mark'd 
 
i02 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Portents and prodigies, and with ominous 
 tongue 
 
 Presaged the Fates ; a wanton harlotry • 
 Haunting with him in bark and pinnace ; thus 
 Their meed have they received. See where he 
 lies ; 
 
 And she his paranymph, that like the swan 
 Warbled death's notes, lies with him, to my bed 
 Leaving the darling object of my wishes. 
 Chor. No slow-consuming pains, to torture us 
 Fix'd to the groaning couch, await us now ; 
 But Fate comes rushing on, and brings the 
 sleep 
 
 That wakes no more. There lies the king, 
 
 whose virtues 
 Were truly royal. In a woman's cause 
 He sufFer'd much, and by a woman perish'd. 
 Ah fatal Helen ! in the fields of Troy 
 How many has thy guilt, thy guilt alone, 
 Stretch'd in the dust ? But now by murd'rous 
 
 hands 
 
 Hast thou sluiced out this rich and noble blood, 
 Whose foul stains never can be purged. This 
 ruin 
 
 Hath discord, raging in the house, effected. 
 Clyt. Wish not for death ; nor bow beneath thy 
 griefs ; 
 
 Nor turn thy rage on Helen, as if she 
 Had drench'd the fields with blood, as she 
 alone 
 
 Fatal to Greece had caused these dreadful ills. 
 Chor. Tremendous fiend, that breathest through 
 this house 
 
 Thy baleful spirit, and with equal daring 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 103 
 
 Hast steel'd these royal sisters * to fierce deeds 
 That rend my soul, now, like the baleful raven, 
 Incumbent o'er the body dost thou joy 
 T' affright us with thy harsh and dissonant 
 notes ! 
 
 Clyt. There 's sense in this : now hast thou touch'd 
 the key, 
 
 Rousing the Fury that from sire to son 
 Hath bade the stream of blood, first pour'd by 
 her. 
 
 Descend : one sanguine tide scarce roll'd away, 
 Another flows in terrible succession. 
 Chor. And dost thou glory in these deeds of death, 
 This vengeance of the Fury? Thus to pride 
 thee 
 
 In ruin and the havoc of thy house, 
 Becomes thee ill. Ah ! 'tis a higher power, 
 That thus ordains ; we see the hand of Jove, 
 Whose will directs the fate of mortal man. 
 My king, my royal lord, what words can show 
 My grief, my reverence for thy princely virtues ! 
 Art thou thus fall'n, caught in a cobweb snare, 
 By impious murder breathing out thy life ? 
 
 Clyt. Thou say'st, and say'st aloud, I did this deed : 
 Say not that I, that Agamemnon's wife. 
 Did it : the Fury, fatal to this house. 
 In vengeance for Thyestes' horrid feast. 
 Assumed this form, and with her ancient rage 
 Hath for the children sacrificed the man. 
 
 Chor. Art thou thus fall'n. Ah the disloyal bed ! 
 Secretly slaughter'd by a treach'rous hand ? 
 
 Clyt. No : of his death far otherwise I deem, 
 
 * Clylemnestra and Helen. 
 
104 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETiS. 
 
 Nothing disloyal. Nor with secret guile 
 Wrought he his murd'rous mischiefs on this 
 house. 
 
 For my sweet flow'ret, opening from his stem. 
 My Iphigenia, my lamented child, 
 Whom he unjustly slew, he justly died. 
 Nor let him glory in the shades below ; 
 For as he taught his sword to thirst for blood, 
 So by the thirsty sword his blood was shed. 
 Chor. Perplex'd and troubled in my anxious 
 thought. 
 
 Amidst the ruins of this house, despair 
 Hangs heavy on me. Drop by drop no more 
 Descends the shower of blood ; but the wild 
 storm 
 
 In one red torrent shakes the solid walls ; 
 Whilst vengeance, ranging through the deathful 
 scene. 
 
 For further mischief whets her fatal sword. 
 O Earth, that I had rested in thy bosom. 
 E'er I had seen him lodged with the€, and 
 shrunk 
 
 To the brief compass of a silver urn ! 
 Who shall attend the rites of sepulture ? 
 Who shall lament him ? Thou whose hand has 
 shed 
 
 Thy husband's blood, wilt thou dare raise the 
 voice 
 
 Of mourning o'er him ? Thy unhallow'd hand 
 Renders these honours, (should they come from 
 thee,) 
 
 Unwelcome to his shade. What faithful tongue. 
 Fond to recount his great and godlike acts, 
 Shall steep in tears his funeral eulogy I 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS. 105 
 
 Clyt. This care concerns not thee : by us he fell, 
 By us he died ; and we will bury him 
 With no domestic grief. But Iphigenia, 
 His daughter, as is meet, jocund and blithe, 
 Shall meet him on the banks of that sad stream, 
 The flood of sorrow*; and with filial duty 
 Hang fondling on her father's neck, and kiss 
 him. 
 
 ^GisTHus, Clytemnestra, Chorus. 
 
 ^Gis. Hail to this joyful day, whose welcome light 
 Brings vengeance ! Now I know that the just 
 Gods 
 
 Look from their skies, and punish impious 
 mortals, 
 
 Seeing this man roU'd in the blood-wove woof, 
 The tissue of the Furies, grateful sight, 
 And suffering for his father's hateful crimes. 
 Atreus, his father, sovereign of this land, 
 ; Brooking no rival in his power, drove out 
 My father and his brother, poor Thyestes, 
 A wretched exile : from his country far 
 He wander'd ; but at length return'd, and stood 
 A suppliant before the household Gods, 
 Secure in their protection that his blood 
 Should not distain the pavement. This man's, 
 father, 
 
 The sacrilegious Atreus, with more show 
 Of courtesy than friendship, spread the feastj, 
 Devoting, such the fair pretence, the day 
 To hospitality and genial mirth : 
 Then to my father in that feast served up 
 
 * Styx. 
 
106 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 The flesh of his own sons : and he, woe ! woe ! 
 The w^hile ! without suspicion ate a food 
 Destructive to the race. But when he knew 
 Th' unhallow'd deed, he raised a mournful cry, 
 And starting up with horror, spurn'd away 
 The barb'rous banquet, uttering many a curse 
 Of deepest vengeance on the house of Pelops. 
 Thus perish all the race of Plisthenes ! 
 And for this cause thou seest him fall'n : his 
 death 
 
 With justice I devised ; for me he chased. 
 The thirteenth son, an infant in my cradle, 
 With my unhappy father. Nursed abroad, 
 Vengeance led back my steps, and taught my 
 hand 
 
 From far to reach him. All this plan of ruin 
 Was mine, reckless of what ensues ; e'en death 
 Were glorious, now that I am thus avenged. 
 Chor. And did the baseness of thy coward soul 
 Unman thee for this murder, that a woman, 
 (Shame to her country, and her country's gods !) 
 Must dare this horrid deed ? But when Orestes, 
 Where'er he breathes the vital air, returns, 
 (Good fortune be his guide!) shall not his 
 hand 
 
 Take a bold vengeance in the death of both ? 
 -SIgis. From thee, who labourest at the lowest oar, 
 This language, and to him that holds the helm ! 
 Thou shalt be taught, old man, what at thy age 
 Is a hard lesson, — prudence. Chains and hunger, 
 Besides the load of age, have sovereign virtue 
 To physic the proud heart. Behold this sight*; 
 
 * Pointing to the dead body of the murdered monarch. 
 
THE AGAMEMNON OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
 107 
 
 Does it not ope thine eyes ? Rest quiet then ; 
 Contend not with the strong ; there's danger 
 in it. 
 
 Chor. An Argive scorns to fawn on guilty great- 
 ness. 
 
 Shalt thou reign king in Argos ? Thou, whose 
 soul 
 
 Plotted this murder ; whilst thy coward hand 
 Shrunk back, nor dared to execute the deed ? 
 
 iEois. This folly, be assured, shall cost thee dear. 
 
 Clyt. Let no more blood be shed. Go then, old 
 men, 
 
 Each to his home ; go, whilst ye may in peace. 
 Chor. The craven in her presence rears his crest. 
 Clyt. Slight men, regard them not ; but let us 
 enter, v 
 
 Assume our state, and order all things well. 
 
 END OF THE AGAMEMNON*. 
 
 * The following profound criticism of La Harpe on this play, 
 will at least amuse if it do not edify the reader : 
 
 " Agamemnon est une piece froidement utroce Cly- 
 
 temnestre n'est ni amoreuse, ni jalouse, ni ambitieuse. Seulement 
 elle veut tuer son mari, et le tue. Voila la piece." Cours de 
 Litterature, Tome 1. 
 
 In reality the plot of the Agamemnon is very simple, but that 
 is one of the characteristics of the dramas of ^Eschylus. Subor- 
 dinate to the imperturbable power of destiny, the combined pas- 
 sions of lust, ambition, and revenge, which actuate Clytemnestra 
 and ^gisthus, constitute the moving principle which chiefly con- 
 duces to the progress of the action. Clytemnestra has been styled 
 the Lady Macbeth of antiquity, but "vaulting ambition" was the 
 sole actuating principle of the latter, in the former, love of her pa- 
 ramour and revenge for her daughter are predominating passions, 
 by which, it may be observed, she is never, like Shakspeare's he- 
 roine, completely unsexed. 
 
THE 
 
 CHOEPHOR^. 
 
 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 ELECTRA. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 ^GTSTHUS. 
 
 PYLADES. 
 
 NURSE AND SERVANTS, 
 
 CHORUS OF CAPTIVE TROJAN WOMEN, 
 
THE CHOEPHORvE OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 INTRODUCTION, 
 
 The threatened vengeance, with which the Chorus 
 menaces the murderers in the close of the last tra- 
 gedy, overtakes them in this. Orestes, son of Aga- 
 memnon, had been rescued from the machinations 
 of ^gisthus and Ciytemnestra by the sohcitude of 
 Electra, his sister, and had been secretly conveyed 
 in safety to the court of Strophius, king of Phocis, 
 who was married to Agamemnon's sister. The 
 king, his uncle, received him with the utmost kind- 
 ness, and he was carefully educated with his cousin 
 Pylades, the son of Strophius, and from their boyish 
 intimacy arose that inviolable attachment which af- 
 terwards became proverbial. Arrived at the age of 
 manhood, and instigated by the oracle of Apollo to 
 avenge his father's wrongs, Orestes repairs to his 
 native Argos, accompanied by his friend. On his 
 arrival, he immediately proceeds to the tomb of 
 Agamemnon, and makes an offering to the shade of 
 the deceased monarch of his " crisped locks," which 
 he had previously nourished and consecrated to the 
 river Inachus. A parallel instance occurs in the 
 XXIIId Iliad, where Achilles devotes his hair, 
 (sacred till then to the river Sperchius,) to the manes 
 of his beloved Patroclus. 
 
 Whilst in the act of making this oblation, Orestes 
 
112 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 perceives a solemn and sorrowful procession ap- 
 proaching, which proves to be his sister Electra 
 coming to offer hbations at the tomb of their com- 
 mon father, attended by a mourning train of female 
 captives brought from Troy. These form the cho- 
 rus ; and, as is common in the Greek dramas, give 
 the name to the tragedy ; the word Choephorae 
 signifying bearers of Hbations to the manes of the 
 dead. Orestes and Pylades stand apart in conceal- 
 ment, to wait the issue of this ceremony, the Chorus 
 singing a solemn dirge in honour of the departed, 
 and denouncing the sure though lingering vengeance 
 of Ate, goddess of evil, upon the perpetrators of this 
 foul and unnatural murder. The hair of Orestes, 
 lying on the tomb, fills Electra with hope at once 
 and apprehension, until Orestes turns her fears to 
 joy, by discovering himself fully. She fires him to 
 prompt and decisive action, by a glowing recital of 
 their father's sudden and bloody death, his mangled 
 corpse barbarously disfigured, and consigned unho- 
 noured to the grave, by his own exile from Argos, the 
 throne of which was his birth-right, by the indignities 
 heaped upon herself, and finally, by a picture of the 
 successful adulterers revelling in the enjoyment of 
 their ill-gotten power and guilty pleasures. 
 
 Orestes, still naturally anxious to catch at any 
 thing that might tend to palliate their mother's 
 crime, eagerly inquires into her motive for send- 
 ing these oblations to their father's tomb. The 
 Chorus inform him that it was not from any feeling 
 of remorse that she had shewn the memory of Aga- 
 memnon even this mark of respect ; but that urged 
 by a fearful dream, which they relate, and which 
 
THE CHOEPHOR^ OF .^SCHYLUS. 113 
 
 Orestes perceives to be significant of his own intend- 
 ed vengeance, her guilty fears had impelled her to this 
 effort to appease the shade of her murdered hus- 
 band. Orestes then plans the means of gaining ac- 
 cess to the palace. He feigns himself a way-faring 
 man, travelling from Phocis, and charged with a 
 message from king Strophius to the ruler of Argos, 
 to tell that young Orestes was no more ; an interview 
 with iEgisthus is granted him, he springs upon the 
 assassin, and despatches him at once. Before his 
 mother's tears, however, his fury relents, and filial 
 reverence and affection are ready to disarm his rage, 
 until Pylades overcomes his scruples by admonish- 
 ing him of the solemn command, and awful denun- 
 ciations of Apollo, in case of disobedience. 
 
 The softening of the indignation of the Chorus 
 against the adulterers, after vengeance is inflicted 
 upon them, and the remorse and incipient madness 
 of Orestes, are touched with singular delicacy and 
 truth to nature. There are several circumstances in 
 this play, and in particular many traits in the cha- 
 racter of Orestes, which will forcibly recall to the 
 reader's thoughts an English drama, — perhaps the 
 most profound and heartfelt of all our Shakspeare's 
 tragedies, — Hamlet. 
 
 Some part of the commencement of the play is 
 lost ; the address of Orestes, however, on present- 
 ing his hair at his father's tomb, is preserved en- 
 tire. This is followed by the dirge of the Chorus, 
 and a dialogue between the Coryphaeus and Electra, 
 as to the most suitable mode of addressing the shade 
 of Agamemnon, under the extraordinary circum- 
 stance of offering oblations from the perpetrators of 
 
114 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 his murder. Electra then advances to the tomb, 
 and the action proceeds as follows : — 
 
 Scene, as in the preceding drama, the area before the royal palace 
 at Argos, where the tomb of Agamemnon is now perceiveil. 
 
 ELECTRA —at the tomb. 
 
 O thou, that to the realms beneath the earth 
 Guidest the dead, be present, Mercury, 
 And tell me that the powers, whose solemn 
 sway 
 
 Extends o'er those dark regions, hear my vows ; 
 Tell me that o'er my father's house they roll 
 Their awful eyes, and o'er this earth, that bears 
 And fosters all, rich in their various fruits. 
 And thee, my father, pouring from this vase 
 Libations to thy shade, on thee I call : 
 O pity me, and pity dear Orestes, 
 That in this seat of kings our hands may hold 
 The golden reins of power : for now oppress'd. 
 And harass'd by a mother's cruel hand, 
 (Who for ^gisthus, that contrived thy death, 
 Exchanged her royal lord,) he wanders far, 
 While I am treated as a slave. Orestes 
 From his possessions exiled, they with pride 
 Wantonly revel in the wealth thy toils 
 Procured: O grant Orestes may return. 
 And fortune be his guide! Hear me, my fa- 
 ther, 
 
 And grant me, more than e'er my mother 
 knew, 
 
THE CHOEPHORiE OF iESCHYLUS. 115 
 
 The grace and blush of unstain'd modesty, 
 And a more holy hand! For us these vows ; 
 But on our foes may thy avenger rise 
 Demanding blood for blood. These vows I 
 breathe 
 
 In dreadful imprecations on their heads. 
 Be thou to us, my father, with the Gods, 
 This earth, and powerful justice, be to us 
 That breathe this vital air, a guide to good. 
 With these libations such the vows I offer. 
 Now let your sorrow^s flow ; attune the p^an, 
 And soothe his shade with solemn harmony. 
 Chor. Swell the warbling voice of woe, 
 Loudly let the measures flow ; 
 And ever and anon the sorrowing tear 
 Trickling dew the hallow'd ground, 
 T' avert the ills we fear ; 
 Whilst on this sepulchral mound 
 Her pious hands the pure libation shed, 
 T' atone the mighty dead. 
 Hear me, O hear me, awful lord. 
 Through the dreary gloom adored ! 
 Ha! Who is this? See, sisters, see, 
 Mark with what force he shakes his angry 
 lance : 
 
 Comes he this ruin'd house to free ? 
 So does some Thracian chief advance ; 
 So Mars, when roused with war's alarms. 
 Radiant all his clashing arms, 
 Rears high his flaming falchion to the blow. 
 And thunders on the foe. 
 Elec. 'Tis finish'd ; these libations to my father 
 The earth has drunk. — Thou awful Power, that 
 boldest 
 
 I 2 
 
116 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 'Twixt this ethereal sky and the dark realms 
 Beneath, dread intercourse, what may this mean? 
 'Tis all amazement. Share this wonder with me. 
 Chor. Say what : my throbbing heart has caught 
 th' alarm. 
 
 Elec. Placed or?! the tomb behold these crisped 
 locks. 
 
 None here, myself excepted, could devote 
 Their locks, the mournful offering ill becomes 
 Our enemies. Then the colour : mark it well ; 
 'Tis the same shade. 
 
 Chor. With whose ? I burn to know. 
 
 Elec. With mine. Compare them : are they not 
 much like ? 
 
 Chor. Are they a secret offering from Orestes ? 
 
 I marvel how he dared to venture hither. 
 Elec. Perchance he sent this honour to his father. 
 Chor. Nor that less cause of sorrow, if his foot 
 
 Must never press his native soil again. 
 Elec A flood of grief o'erwhelms me, and my heart 
 
 Is pierced with anguish ; from my eyes that 
 view 
 
 These locks, fast fall the ceaseless-streaming 
 tears. 
 
 Like wintry showers. To whom besides, that 
 here 
 
 Inhabits, could I think these locks belong ? 
 Could she, who slew him, offer on his tomb 
 Her hair ? Alas, her thoughts are impious all. 
 Such as a daughter dares not name. 1 deem, 
 With reason then I deem, they graced the head 
 Of my Orestes, dearest of mankind, 
 And fondly mix their kindred griefs with mine, 
 A grace and honour to our father's tomb. 
 
THE CHOEPHOR^ OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
 117 
 
 Why should I not indulge the flatt'ring hope ? 
 But to the Gods, who know what furious 
 storms 
 
 Eurst o'er me, like a shipwreck'd mariner, 
 I make appeal : if haply aught of safety 
 Remains, from this small root the vigorous 
 trunk 
 
 May spread its shelt'ring branches. — Further 
 mark 
 
 Th' impression of these feet ; they shew that 
 two 
 
 Trod here ; himself perchance and his attend- 
 ant ; 
 
 One of exact dimensions with my own : 
 But all is anguish and perplexity. 
 
 Orestes, Pylades, Electra, Chorus. 
 
 Ores. In other pressures beg the favouring Gods 
 To hear thy vows, and shower their blessings 
 on thee. 
 
 Elec. What blessing from them have I now ob- 
 tain'd ? 
 
 Ores. Thou seest before thee whom but late thine 
 eyes 
 
 Most wished to see. 
 Elec. And dost thou know the name 
 
 Which with fond joy my tongue delights to 
 utter ? 
 
 Ores. Thy fervent vows, I know, are for Orestes. 
 Elec. And of those vows what have I yet obtain'd? 
 Ores. I am Orestes : seek no firmer friend. 
 Elec With wily trains thou wouldst ensnare me, 
 stranger. 
 
 Ores. Then should I spread these trains against 
 myself 
 
118 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Elec. But thou wouldst mock me in my miseries. 
 Ores. To mock thy miseries were t' insult my own. 
 Elec. Am I indeed conversing with Orestes ? 
 Ores. Thou seest me present, yet art slow to know 
 me. 
 
 When offer'd on the tomb thou saw'st these 
 locks, 
 
 When with thy own th' impressions of my feet 
 Were measured, joy gave wings to expectation, 
 And imaged me before thee. Mark these locks. 
 Shorn from thy brother's head ; observe them 
 well. 
 
 Compare them with thy own. This tissue, 
 view it. 
 
 The texture is thy own, the rich embroidery. 
 Thine are these figures, by thy curious hand 
 Imaged in gold. — Let not thy joy transport thee : 
 Our nearest friends are now our deadliest foes. 
 Elec. Thou dearest pledge of this imperial house. 
 From thee my hopes, water'd with tears, arose : 
 Thy Talour shall support our righteous cause, 
 And vindicate the glories of thy father. 
 Pride of my soul, for my fond tongue must 
 speak. 
 
 The love my father shared, my mother shared, 
 (Once shared; but justly now my soul abhors 
 her,) 
 
 And that poor victim, my unhappy sister, 
 Is centred all in thee : thou art my father, 
 Mother, sister, my support, and glory. 
 My only aid: and heaven's great King shall 
 prosper 
 
 Thy courage, and the justice of thy cause. 
 Ores. Look down, great King of heaven! Look 
 down, behold 
 
THE CHOEPHOR^ OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 119 
 
 These deeds of baseness ; see an orphan race, 
 Reft of the parent eagle, that, inwreathed 
 In the dire serpent's spiry volumes, perish'd. 
 They, unprotected, feel the oppressive pangs 
 Of famine, yet too weak to wing their flight, 
 And, like their parent, fill their nest with prey. 
 We are the eagle's offspring, of our father 
 Deprived, and driven in exile from his house. 
 Before thy altars, loaded by his hand. 
 He bow'd with pious reverence. Should thy 
 will 
 
 Permit his young to perish, who shall pay thee 
 Like costly honours ? Should the eagle's off- 
 spring 
 
 Be doom'd to perish, who shall bear thy thun- 
 ders, 
 
 Dread sign of wrath awaked on mortal man ? 
 Nor will this empire, wither'd from its roots, 
 Adorn thy altars on the solemn day 
 With haliow'd victims. Save us then, protect us, 
 To all its former glories raise this house, 
 Whose ruin'd towers seem tott'ring to their fall. 
 Chor. Ye generous offspring of this royal house. 
 And guardians of its honour, check your trans- 
 ports ; 
 
 Lest they be heard, and some malicious tongue 
 Bear them to our bad rulers : may these eyes 
 First see the dark wreaths of their funeral piles. 
 Ores. The voice of Phoebus never shall deceive ; 
 In dreadful accents utter'd from his shrine 
 Aloud he charged me to defy the danger, 
 Threatening my soul with keenest tortures, 
 mulcts 
 
 Less lightly paid than those of hard-earn'd gold, 
 
GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Should I forbear t' avenge my father's death 
 With equal retribution on his murderers. 
 Ills else did he denounce : — ills to the citizen — 
 Such as breed joy in taunting foemen's eyes, 
 Famine and fruitless acres : — and for us — 
 Corrosive leprosies with rankling tooth 
 To gnaw our flesh, and taint our healthful 
 bodies 
 
 With ulcerous foulness, changing these fresh 
 locks 
 
 To untimely white ; with trains of heavier 
 woes 
 
 Raised by the Furies for a father's blood. 
 For the dark shaft, shot from the realms be- 
 neath 
 
 By suppliant kinsmen, slain by villain hands, 
 Helps with the night's dread fears, to rouse and 
 sting 
 
 The guilty soul to madness, while the whip 
 And city's scourge consume his mangled body. 
 Such from the friendly bowl, the hallow'd gob- 
 let. 
 
 The social intercourse, the incensed altar. 
 Is chased, condemn'd to bear the secret pangs 
 Of inly-gnawing guilt : meanwhile the fiends, 
 Hatred and Infamy, pursue his steps, 
 And drag him to an execrable death. 
 The sacred voice of Phoebus then demands 
 My prompt obedience. Could my soul refuse 
 T' obey the awful mandate, yet the deed 
 Must be accomplish'd ; many urgencies 
 Conspire : the charges of the Gods, the grief 
 That wounds me for my father, the fierce 
 pangs 
 
THE CHOEPHOR^ OF ^SCHYLUS. 121 
 
 Of penury compel me ; and the shame, 
 That burns the generous soul, to leave my 
 country, 
 
 And all those heroes glorious through the world, 
 Whose conquering ^ arms laid Troy's proud 
 
 towers in dust, 
 Slaves to two women ; for his soul is woman : 
 If not, the occasion soon will prove his spirit. 
 
 Chor. And you, tremendous Destinies, whose power 
 Is ratified by Jove, mark the firm course 
 Of justice, and by that direct th' event. 
 
 Ores. O thou much injured shade, my suffering 
 father, 
 
 In thy dear cause what shall I say, what do, 
 Guided by fortune hither ? Where, O where 
 Is thy couch spread ? Our light is shaded o'er 
 With darkness deep as thine : our youthful 
 
 graces. 
 
 That in this royal house once bloomed with hope 
 Fair opening, shrink at the rough blast of 
 sorrow. 
 
 Chor. No : the devouring flames, my son, that 
 waste 
 
 The body of the dead, touch not the soul ; 
 That lives, and knows its destined hour to 
 show 
 
 Its wrath : yet for the dead our sorrows rise. 
 Elec. Hear me too, O my father ; in those griefs 
 Which at thy sepulchre thy children pour, 
 I have a mournful part. Thy tomb receives 
 Alike the suppliant and the exile. Which, 
 Ah which of these is well? Which without 
 evils ? 
 
 No lenient hand can ease our miseries. 
 
122 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Chor. Yet may the God, that uttered from the 
 shrine 
 
 His awful voice, from these raise other sounds 
 More pleasing ; and for these sepulchral notes, 
 (Notes steep'd in tears,) thro' all these royal 
 rooms 
 
 The voice of joy may ring, and hail their lord, 
 Return'd to bless them with his kind protection. 
 Elec. Yet, O my father, hadst thou greatly fallen 
 Beneath the walls of Troy, pierced by the spear 
 Of some bold Lycian, leaving to thy house 
 Thy glory, gracing with illustrious splendor 
 Thy children's steps, on that barbaric coast 
 The high-raised tomb had dignified thy dust 
 And soothed our sorrows. In the realms be- 
 neath 
 
 Thy friendly shade, amongst the friendly shades 
 That fell with honour there, had held its state 
 Majestic and revered, a king, next those 
 Whose awful power those darksome realms 
 obey. 
 
 For to thy last of life thou wast a king. 
 The golden reins of empire graced thy hands. 
 And thy strong sceptre ruled a willing people. 
 But in the fields of Troy thou didst not fall. 
 Nor is thy tomb beside Scamander's stream 
 With those that perish'd by the hostile spear. 
 Chor. Supreme of Gods, send from the realms of 
 night. 
 
 The slow^-avenging Ate ; bid her rise 
 To blast the fraudful and audacious hands 
 Of impious mortals : for a father's wrongs 
 She stamps her vengeance deep. When on 
 this man 
 
THE CHOEPHOR^ OF ^SCHYLUS. 123 
 
 The vengeful sword shall fall, and bleedmg 
 
 Lies this bad woman, be it mine to hear 
 Their shrieks of death, and answer to their 
 cries 
 
 In notes as dismal. Why should I conceal 
 My honest hopes ? Fate spreads her sable 
 wings. 
 
 And hovers o'er their heads ; before their eyes 
 Stands indignation arm'd, and hate enraged, 
 Ready to rend their hearts, when Jove shall 
 stretch 
 
 His puissant hands. O thou, whose power sub- 
 dues 
 
 The mighty, to this country seal thy faith, 
 And ratify their doom ! On th' impious heads 
 I ask for vengeance. You, whose dreaded 
 power 
 
 Th' infernal realms revere, ye Furies, hear me ! 
 There is a law that, for each drop of blood 
 Shed on the earth, demands that blood be 
 shed ; 
 
 For, from the slain, Erinnys calls for slaughter, 
 On ruin heaping ruin. Ye dread powers 
 Of Hell's dark realms, where are you now ? 
 Behold, 
 
 Ye potent curses of the slain, behold 
 The poor remains of this imperial house 
 Sunk in distress, and all its glories vanish'd ! 
 Where, King of Heaven, where may we seek 
 for refuge ? 
 
 Elec. Again my throbbing heart sinks at the sound 
 Of thy laments ; and dark'ning o'er my soul 
 At thy sad voice come anguish and despair. 
 
124 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 But when thy words breathe courage, my sick 
 
 griefs 
 
 Are fled, and fairer fortune seems to smile. 
 But with what words to woo her ? Speak 
 aloud 
 
 The miseries which we suffer from our pa- 
 rents ? 
 
 Or smooth our tongues to glozing courtesy ? 
 That softens not our miseries : and our spirits, 
 Roused by the wrongs of our ungentle mother, 
 Contract a kindred fierceness. With bold hand 
 She struck the fatal stroke. She struck him 
 once ; 
 
 Again she struck him ; her uplifted hands 
 Redoubled blow on blow ; swift on his head 
 The distant-sounding strokes with steep force 
 fell. 
 
 Bold, unrelenting woman ! that could bear 
 Without one pitying sigh t' entomb the king 
 Unhonour'd with his people's grief, the hus- 
 band 
 
 Without a tear to grace his obsequies ! 
 Ores. All thou hast mentioned are indignities 
 
 That swell my grief to rage. But vengeance 
 arms 
 
 This hand, assisted by the Gods, to punish 
 The ignominious wrongs done to my father. 
 May this revenge be mine, then let me die ! 
 Elec. When she had killed, with impious hand she 
 maim'd 
 
 His manly figure, and with this abuse 
 Entomb'd him here, studious to make his 
 murder 
 
 A deed of horror, that through all thy life 
 
THE CHOEPHOR.E OF ^SCHYLUS. 125 
 
 Might shock thy soul. Such was thy father's 
 death. 
 
 Such were thy father's ignominious wrongs. 
 But me, a poor, deserted, worthless thing, 
 Spurn'd like a menial from my own apart- 
 ments. 
 
 They bid begone : there I could heave the sigh 
 In secret, there indulge the mournful pleasure 
 To pour the tear, unnoticed and uncheck'd. 
 Hear this, and on thy mind imprint it deep, 
 Engrave it on the tablet of thy heart ; 
 Be resolute and calm. 
 
 The time demands a firm, determined spirit. 
 And thou, my father, hear : on thee I call. 
 And with a friendly voice, tho' choked with 
 
 tears : 
 Hear us, and aid ! 
 Chor. And with a friendly voice this social train 
 To her sad voice accords the strain. 
 Hear, mighty shade, and from the realms of 
 
 night 
 
 Revisit this ethereal light ; 
 
 Against thy foes impart thy aid, 
 
 Be war with war, and blood with blood repaid ! 
 
 Ye Gods with justice strike the blow ! 
 
 I tremble, as the measures flow ; 
 
 But Fate attends, and hears our call, 
 
 And, stern the bloody forfeit to demand, 
 
 With fury arms the kindred hand, 
 
 And bids the righteous vengeance fall. 
 
 Here Sorrow holds her dismal state, 
 
 Unsated Murder stains the ground, 
 
 Revenge behind and Terror wait. 
 
 And Desolation stalks his round ; 
 
126 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Not with a distant foe the war to wage, 
 But on this house to pour their rage. 
 These are the strains, that to the Gods below, 
 Th' avenging Gods, in rude notes flow : 
 Hear us, dread powers ; and this imperial race, 
 Victorious in your might with glory grace ! 
 Ores. My royal father, who unroyally 
 
 Wast murdered, give me to command thy 
 house ! 
 
 Elec. Hear me my father, for I want thy aid ; 
 
 Grant me to share his vengeance on vEgisthus, 
 And then escape ; else when the grateful odours 
 Are wafted from the festive board, to grace 
 The mighty dead, thy shade must want its 
 honours. 
 
 Ores. Earth, send my father to behold the com- 
 bat! 
 
 Elec. Inspire him, Proserpine, with glorious force ! 
 Ores. Think on the bath where thou wast basely 
 murdered ! 
 
 Elec Think of the net in which their hands en- 
 tangled thee ! 
 
 Ores. My father, cannot these dishonours raise 
 thee? 
 
 Elec Dost thou not raise thy honour'd head ? O 
 
 send 
 
 Justice to aid thy friends : or if thy soul 
 Sinks with its wrongs, nor rises to avenge 
 them. 
 
 Be the like sufferings ours ! But, O my fatlier 
 Hear our last cries, and sitting on thy tomb 
 Behold thy sorrowing children ! — 
 Now, brother, since thy soul is roused to dare 
 This deed, trust on the God, and do it straight. 
 
THE CHOEPHOR^ OF ^SCHYLUS. 127 
 
 Ores. I shall : but let me pause awhile to ask 
 
 Wherefore she sent these ofFrings, on what 
 motive 
 
 Thus late she soothes th' immedicable ill, 
 Paying this wretched honour to the dead 
 That cares not for it. 
 
 (to the Chor.) Ye, if ye know, explain her mo- 
 tives to me. 
 
 Chor. I know, for I was present: dreams and 
 visions. 
 
 The terrors of the night, appall'd her soul ; 
 And guilty fears urged her to send these 
 off 'rings. 
 
 Ores. Told she the dreams that so alarm'd her 
 fears ? 
 
 Chor. Her hideous fancies feign'd that she had 
 given 
 A dragon birth. 
 Ores. And what th' event ? Be brief. 
 
 Chor. This new-born dragon, like an infant child 
 Laid in the cradle, seem'd in want of food ; 
 And in her dream she held it to her breast. 
 Ores. Without a wound 'scaped she the hideous 
 monster ? 
 
 Chor. The milk he drew was mix'd with clotted 
 blood. 
 
 Ores. 'Tis not for nought, this vision from her 
 husband. 
 
 Chor. She cried out in her sleep w4th wild af- 
 fright ; 
 
 And many lamps, dim-gleaming through the 
 darkness. 
 
 To do her pleasure enter'd the apartment. 
 
128 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Soon to the tomb she sends these funeral ho- 
 nours, 
 
 Medicinal, as she hopes, to heal her ills. 
 Ores. But to this earth, and to my father's tomb 
 I make my supplications, that in me 
 Her dream may be accomplish'd ; and I judge 
 It aptly corresponds : for as this serpent. 
 Leaving the place that once was mine, there 
 lying 
 
 Swathed like an infant, seized that breast which 
 nursed 
 
 My tender age, and mingled with the milk 
 Drew clotted blood ; and as with such affright 
 She call'd out in her sleep ; it cannot be 
 But as she nursed this monster, she must die 
 A violent death ; and with a dragon's rage 
 This hand shall kill her, as her dream declares. 
 Or how wilt thou expound these prodigies ? 
 
 Chor. Thus may it be. But now instruct thy friends 
 What each must singly do, and each forbear. 
 
 Ores. Few words suffice : then mark me : Let her 
 enter ; 
 
 And keep, I charge thee, keep my purpose 
 secret ; 
 
 That they, who slew an honourable man 
 By cursed deceit, may by deceit be caught 
 In the same snare, and perish ; so the God, 
 Powerful Apollo, from whose sacred voice 
 Nothing but truth can flow, admonish'd me. 
 I, like a stranger, harness'd in this coarse 
 And way-worn garb, with Pylades my friend, 
 Will as a guest and friend knock at the gate : 
 Our tongues shall imitate the rustic accent 
 
THE CHOEPHOR^ OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 129 
 
 Familiar to the mountain-race of Phocis. 
 But if I pass the threshold of the gates, 
 And find him * seated on my father's throne, 
 Or should he come t' accost me, be assured 
 Quick as the eye can glance, e'er he can say 
 Whence is this stranger ? my impatient sword 
 Shall strike him dead. So shall the fell Erin- 
 nys. 
 
 That riots with a horrid joy in slaughter, 
 Quaff this third bowl of blood. — Go then, 
 Electra, 
 
 Be watchful ; see that all things in the house 
 Be well disposed. And you, I charge you, guard 
 Your tongues ; be silent where you ought, and 
 where 
 
 Your voice can aid me, speak. The rest my 
 friend. 
 
 That guides my sword to vengeance, will o'er- 
 see. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Stro. 1. Pregnant with ills the dreary air 
 
 Gives sickness, pain, and terror birth, 
 The seas, that wind around the earth, 
 Fatal to man their monsters bear ; 
 Each forest in its shaggy sides 
 
 That darkens o'er the perilous ground, 
 The lurking, rav'nous savage hides, 
 
 Whilst fierce birds wheel the suiiD^iits 
 round : 
 
 And mark with what tempestuous rage 
 Black from the skies the rushing winds engage, 
 
 * iEgisthus. 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Antis. 1. But who the dangerous thoughts can tell 
 That in man's daring bosom roll ; 
 Or whirl the more tempestuous soul 
 Of woman when the passions swell ? 
 When love, to torment near allied, 
 
 Bids phrensy rule the troubled hour ? 
 Love, that exerts with wanton pride 
 
 O'er female hearts despotic power ; 
 And binds in his ungentle chain 
 Each savage of the wood, and monster of the 
 main. 
 
 Stro. 2. Think with what sullen phrensy fired 
 
 The Thestian dame * with ruthless hand 
 Cast on the hearth the fatal brand ; 
 The flames consumed it, and her son expired. 
 With horror think on Scylla's deed : 
 
 To win the favour of the foes, 
 (The golden bracelets were the meed,) 
 
 Against her father's life she rose, 
 Approach'd the sleeping monarch's bed, 
 And reft the sacred honours of his head. 
 Antis. 2. Amongst these deeds of blood that stain 
 The annals of the times of old, 
 Be that unhallow'd couch enroll'd, 
 Whose guilty loves this royal house profane. 
 Enroll'd be all that female hate 
 
 Form'd 'gainst the chief in arms renown'd ; 
 
 * Althaea. See Ovid Met. viii. fab. 4. 
 
 f Daughter of Nisus, king of Megara. On the head of her 
 father grew a golden hair upon which the preservation of his city 
 depended. When Megara was besieged by Minos king of Crete, 
 Scylla, fired with love of the invader, entered her father's apart- 
 ment as he slept, and cut off the fatal hair. See the story in Ovid 
 Trist. 2. 
 
THE CHOEPHOR^ OF iESCHYLUS. 131 
 
 The chief, whose glorious, awful state 
 
 E'en madd'ning foes with reverence own'd : 
 Those glories, though they blaze no more, 
 Quench'd by a woman's hand, 1 still adore. 
 Epod. In the black annals of far distant time 
 
 The Lemnian dames recorded stand * ; 
 But the soul shudders at the crime. 
 
 And execrates the murders of their hand : 
 Basely at once the husbands bleed ; 
 The indignant Gods abhor the deed : 
 And shall man dare with impious voice to ap- 
 prove 
 
 Deeds, that offend the powers above ? 
 
 Through the gored breast 
 
 With rage imprest 
 The sword of justice hews the dreadful wound ; 
 
 And haughty might 
 
 That mocks at right. 
 Like the vile dust is trampled on the ground. 
 Righteous are thy decrees, eternal King, 
 And from the roots of justice spring ; 
 These shall strike deep, and flourish wide, 
 Whilst all, that scorn them, perish in their 
 pride. 
 
 Fate the portentous sword prepares, 
 And the rough labours of the anvil shares ; 
 Wide through the house a tide of blood 
 Flows where a former tide had flow'd ; 
 Erinnys marks the destined hour. 
 Vengeful her meditated rage to pour. 
 
 * They murdered every male in the island except Thoas, whc 
 was saved by his daughter Hypsipyle. See Statius, Thebaid. v, 
 
 k2 
 
132 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Ores. {Knocking at the palace gate,) What, does no 
 servant hear me knock ? Who waits 
 Within ? Again I knock : Does no one hear ? 
 A third time to the menials of this house 
 I call, if to the stranger at his gate 
 The great ^Egisthus bears a courteous soul. 
 Serv. Forbear, I pray. Who art thou, and from 
 whence ? 
 
 Ores. Go tell the lords of this fair house, to them 
 I come, charged with strange tidings : haste ; 
 For now the sable chariot of the night 
 Rolls on apace ; and the dark hour exhorts 
 The way-spent traveller to seek repose. 
 
 Clytemnestra, Orestes, Pylades, 
 Electra, Chorus. 
 
 Clyt. Speak, strangers, what your wants ; here 
 shall you find 
 All that becomes a house like this * ; warm 
 baths 
 
 Refreshment of your toils, the well spread couch 
 Inviting soft repose, and over all 
 An eye regarding justice. If your business 
 Be of more serious import, asking counsel, 
 The province this of men ; we wull inform 
 them. 
 
 * " Hospitality " observes the late Mr. Mitford, the profound 
 and ingenious historian of Greece, *' will be generally found to 
 have flourished in different ages and countries, ver^- nearly in pro- 
 portion to the necessity for it ; that is, in proportion to the de- 
 iiciency of jurisprudence, and the weakness of government." Hist, 
 of Greece, Vol, I. Sect. 4. 
 
THE CIIOEPHORiE OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 133 
 
 Ores. A Phocian am I, from the town of Daulis. 
 Occasions of my own call'd me to Argos, 
 Nor ask'd a better dress than this coarse garb 
 Familiar to me : onwards as I travell'd 
 I met a man unknown, myself to him 
 Unknown ; he courteous question'd me how far 
 I journey'd, and inform'd me of my way, 
 Strophius of Phocis, (so I chanc'd to learn ;) 
 " Stranger", he said, since business of thy own 
 Leads thee to Argos, let me task thy care 
 To tell Orestes' parents that the youth 
 Is dead. Forget it not. Whether his friends 
 With solemn obsequies will fetch him hence, 
 Or in eternal rest our friendly earth 
 Shall lay him in her hospitable bosom, 
 Bring back their pleasure ; for the brazen urn 
 Now holds the ashes of the honour'd prince 
 Wliom we lament." This, faithful to my charge 
 Have I deliver'd ; if to kindred ears, 
 And those whose power is sovereign here, I 
 know not. 
 
 But it is meet his parents knew th' event. 
 Elec. Ah me ! Thus desolation on our head 
 
 Is fall'n ! O thou relentless curse, whose rage 
 Hung o'er this house, has thy unsparing eye 
 Mark'd what we lodged at distance, aiming there 
 Thy cruel shafts, to rob me of my friends ? 
 E'en now Orestes, who with cautious tread 
 Had from this gulf of ruin freed his foot, 
 E'en he, the hope medicinal to the madness 
 Of this bad house, shows that our hope be- 
 trays us 
 
 * It is almost needless to remind the reader that Electra well 
 knew this account of her brother's death to be feigned, and that 
 
GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Ores. It were my wish to have borne other tidings, 
 More welcome to the lords of this fair mansion, 
 And meriting their hospitable favom's : 
 For what more strongly to benevolence 
 Can bind the grateful soul? Yet I should 
 deem it 
 
 An impious wrong not to disclose e'en these. 
 Unwelcome, as they must be, to his friends, 
 So solemnly entrusted to my charge. 
 Clyt. Nor less for this shalt thou receive such care 
 As thy worth challenges : nor less for this 
 Respected here : another would have come, 
 Charged with the same sad message. But the 
 hour 
 
 Demands refreshment for the stranger, spent 
 With the long travel of the weary day. 
 Lead him to those apartments, where the men 
 Are well received ; let his attendant follow, 
 His fellow traveller : let thy careful hand, 
 I charge thee, minister to all their wants. 
 We to the ruler of this house will bear 
 These tidings, and amongst our friends consult 
 What measures in this sad event to form. 
 
 Chorus, alone. 
 Now, my dear partners, slaves to this proud 
 house, 
 
 Now let us shew our fortitude, now teach 
 Our tongues a noble daring for Orestes. 
 
 Thou hallow'd earth, thou hallowed mound, 
 Whose high sepulchral round 
 
 this apostrophe to the curse of Thyestes, is only intended to de- 
 ceive Clytemnestra, and disarm her of all suspicion. 
 
THE CHOEPHORiE OF .ESCHYLUS. 135 
 
 Lies on the royal chief, that o'er the main 
 To glory led his martial train, 
 
 Now hear us, now impart your aid : 
 On this important hour. 
 Persuasion, try thy fraudful power : 
 
 And thou, through night's surrounding shade, 
 Come Mercury, from the shades below. 
 And when the falchion flames, direct th' aveng- 
 ing blow ! 
 
 Servant, Gilissa, Chorus. 
 
 Serv. This stranger, it should seem, brings mourn- 
 ful tidings ; 
 I see the tear steal from Gilissa's eye. 
 Nurse of Orestes. But her honest grief 
 Shall here find no reward : expect it not. 
 
 GiLis. My royal mistress order'd me with speed 
 To call jEgisthus to these stranger guests ; 
 That man from man he with more certainty 
 Might learn this fresh report. Before the ser- 
 vants 
 
 She kept her smile beneath a mournful eye, 
 To hide her joy at this event ; to her 
 A joy indeed, but to this house a tale 
 Of deep affliction. He too, when he hears 
 The narrative, will from his soul rejoice. 
 Ah me ! what sorrows in successive train 
 Have in this house of Atreus pierced my soul 
 From ancient times : but never have I sufFer'd 
 A loss like this : with patience other ills, 
 Well as I might, I bore. But my Orestes 
 Was the dear object of my anxious thoughts ; 
 An infant I received him from his mother ; 
 I nursed him, naany a night to all his wants, 
 
136 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 To all his cries attentive, with a care 
 That now avails me not. Ere reason dawns, 
 The nurse's care is needful ; in his cradle 
 The infant knows not to express his wants, 
 Rise they from thirst, or hunger, or the calls 
 Of nature : with fond diligence I mark'd 
 Th' instinctive cry, nor with a squeamish nice- 
 ness 
 
 Thought scorn of any office ; for my love 
 Made all delightful. Now, alas ! in vain. 
 But I am sent in haste to that vile man, 
 Whose rank pollution stains this noble house ; 
 With pleasure this report will he receive. 
 Chor. With what appointment does she bid him 
 come ? 
 
 GiLis. She bids him come attended with his guards. 
 
 Chor. No, tell him not this hated lord ; but wear 
 A face of cheerfulness ; and urge him hither 
 Alone, devoid of fear, to be inform'd. 
 
 GiLis. This news, it seems, is welcome to thy soul. 
 
 Chor. But what if Heaven's high King redress 
 these ills ? 
 
 GiLis. How? With Orestes all our hopes are 
 dead. 
 
 Chor. Not all. This needs no prophet to unfold it. 
 GiLis. Hast thou heard aught disproving this re- 
 port ? 
 
 * Orestes had enjoined the Chorus to be silent where they 
 ought, and to speak where their voice might aid him : they had 
 kept themselves near the tomb till they saw him enter the palace ; 
 they then advance with an intention of assisting his cause, as oc- 
 casion should arise : Gihssa soon gave them a very favourable 
 one, which they embrace, by conjuring that faithful servant to call 
 forth xEgisthus alone, without his guards, which facilitated the de- 
 sign of Orestes. 
 
THE CHOEPHOR^ OF iESCIIYLUS. 137 
 
 CnoR. Go, bear thy message ; do as thou art or- 
 der'd : 
 
 The Gods, whose care this is, will guide the 
 event. 
 
 GiLis. I go, in all observant of thy precepts. 
 
 May what is best come from the fav'ring Gods! 
 
 Exit. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Thou, that hast fix'd thy dreary reign 
 
 Deep in the yawning gulf below. 
 Yet let him-j" rise, yet view this scene, 
 Around his gloomy eyeballs throw, 
 Distinct and clear the vengeance mark, 
 That threatens from her covert dark ! 
 Thou, son of Maia J, come, and with thee lead 
 Success, that crow ns the daring deed : 
 To form the close and dark design, 
 Whether th' ambiguous tale thou lovest to 
 weave, 
 
 And throw around the veil of night ; 
 Or bidd'st e'en truth itself deceive, 
 Displayed in all the dazzling blaze of light ; 
 The powers of secrecy are thine. 
 Then shall this pensive female train 
 
 These rich oblations pay no more ; 
 No more the melancholy strain, 
 
 Tuned to the voice of anguish, pour. 
 Raptured their triumph shall I see. 
 My friends from ruffian danger free. 
 
 * The following ode, the reader will observe, is monostrophic ; 
 see page 40. 
 
 f Agamemnon. \ Mercury. 
 
1^8 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 And thou, when thy stern part is come, be 
 bold : 
 
 Think how in blood thy father rolled : 
 And when, " my son, my son," she cries, 
 
 To melt thy manly mind with plaintive moan. 
 Then to her guilty soul recal 
 Thy murder'd father's dying groan ; 
 
 And to his angry vengeance let her fail : 
 Like Perseus turn thy ruthless eye ; 
 
 Just to thy friends above, thy friends below, 
 Aim with applauded rage the destined wound ; 
 
 Great in thy vengeance rush upon the foe. 
 And strike the murd'rer bleeding to the 
 ground. 
 
 /Egisthus, Gilissa, Chorus. 
 
 J^Gis. This message has a voice, that calls me 
 forth 
 
 To learn with more assurance the report, 
 By certain strangers brought, touching the 
 death 
 
 Of young Orestes ; whether should I give 
 Full credit to this tale, or rather deem it 
 The idle offspring of these women's fears, 
 That lightly rose, and will as lightly die ? 
 This stranger I must see, that I may learn 
 If he himself were present at his death, 
 Or only speaks from an obscure report. 
 
 Exit, 
 
 Chor. What should I say, eternal King, 
 Or how beo-in the strain ? 
 These passions how contain. 
 That in my throbbing breast tumultuous spring? 
 
THE CHOEPIIOR^ OF .ESCHYLUS. 139 
 
 O that, in aid, my daring deed 
 Might all the force of words exceed ! 
 For now distain'd with blood the flick'ring 
 sword 
 
 The contest ends ; if all 
 This royal race shall fall ; 
 Or the just laws their ancient state resuming, 
 And liberty her light reluming. 
 Hail to his father's rights the son restored. 
 Gainst two fierce wolves the youth contesting 
 stands 
 
 Alone. May heaven-sent conquest grace In's 
 hands ! 
 
 iEois. (Within,) Oh! I am slain. 
 
 Chor. That groan ! Again that groan ! 
 
 Whence ? What is done ? Who rules the storm 
 within ? 
 
 The deed is finish'd : let us keep aloof, 
 And seem unconscious of these ills : best stand 
 At distance, whilst destruction ends her work. 
 Serv. Woe, woe is me ! Woe to my slaughter'd 
 lord! 
 
 Woe on my wretched head, and woe again ! 
 ^gisthus is no more. 
 
 Clytemnestra, Servant, Chorus. 
 
 Clyt. What means thy clamour ? Whence these 
 
 shrieks of woe ? 
 Serv. They, that were rumour'd dead, have slain 
 
 the living. 
 
 Clyt. Ah me ! I understand thee, though thy words 
 Are dark ; and we shall perish in the toils, 
 E'en as we spread them. Give me instantly 
 The slaught'ring axe ; it shall be seen if yet 
 
140 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 We know the way to conquer, or are con- 
 quer' d : 
 
 These daring measures have my wrongs en- 
 forced. 
 
 Orestes, Pylades, Clytemnestra, Chorus. 
 
 Ores. Thee too I seek : he has his righteous meed. 
 Clyt. Ah me ! my dear ^gisthus, thou art dead. 
 Ores. And dost thou love the man ? In the same 
 tomb 
 
 Shalt thou be laid, nor e'en in death forsake 
 him. 
 
 Clyt. Ah, stay thy hand, my son : my child, my 
 child. 
 
 Revere this breast, on which thou oft hast 
 slept, 
 
 And oft thy infant lips have press'd its milk. 
 Ores. What shall I do, my Pylades ? Restrain'd 
 
 By filial reverence, dread to kill my mother ? 
 Pyl. Wliere then the other oracles of Phoebus, 
 
 Giv'n from the Pythian shrine ? The faithful 
 vows. 
 
 The solemn adjurations, whither vanish'd ? 
 Deem all the world thy foes, save the just 
 Gods. 
 
 Ores. Thou hast convinced me ; thy reproofs are 
 just.— 
 
 Follow him : on his body will I slay thee. 
 Alive thou held'st him dearer than my father ; 
 Then sleep with him in death, since thou couldst 
 love him, 
 
 And hate the man who most deserved thy love. 
 Clyt. My son, my son, thou wilt not kill thy mo- 
 ther ! 
 
THE CIIOEPHORiE OF ^SCHYLUS. 141 
 
 Ores. Thy hand, not mine, is guilty of thy death. 
 Clyt. Take heed ; avoid a mother's angry Furies. 
 Ores. Relaxing here, how shall I 'scape my fa- 
 ther's ? 
 
 Clyt. Methinks, while yet alive, before my tomb 
 I pour the funeral strain, that nought avails 
 me. 
 
 Ores. Nought : for my father's fate ordains thy 
 death. 
 
 Clyt. Ah me ! I gave this dragon birth, I nursed 
 him ; 
 
 These terrors of the night were more than 
 phantoms. 
 
 Ores. Foul and vmnaturalwas thy murd'rous deed: 
 Foul and unnatural be thy punishment. 
 
 Exeunt. 
 
 CiioR. ( alone.) The double ruin e'en of these 
 awakes 
 
 Our grief. But since his cruel fate has plunged 
 Orestes deep in blood, pour we the prayer 
 That his fair day set not in endless night. 
 
 Epode. 
 
 Cheerful the light begins to rise ; 
 
 Sunk was our sun, and long in darkness lay, 
 Nor promised the return of day : 
 
 Soon may his beams revisit our sad eyes ! 
 When these cleansed floors no more retain 
 Polluting murder's sanguine stain, 
 
 Time haply may behold his orient rays 
 
 O'er these illumined turrets blaze ; 
 
 And fortune, mounted on her golden seat, 
 
 Rejoice in our triumphant state, 
 
142 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Rejoice to see our glories rise, 
 And our unclouded sun flame o'er the sapphire 
 skies. 
 
 Re-enter Orestes. 
 
 Orestes, Chorus. 
 
 Ores. Behold the murderers of my father slain ! 
 Behold the proud oppressors of my country. 
 Spread out the bloody garment to the sun, 
 That with his awful eye he may behold 
 My mother's impious deeds, and in the hour 
 Of judgment be my witness, that with justice 
 My vengeance fell on her, and on iEgisthus. 
 
 Chor. O horror, horror ! dreadful were your deeds, 
 And dreadful is your death ; the ling'ring ven- 
 geance 
 
 Bursts with redoubled force. This was her 
 deed. 
 
 Her cursed deed : this vestment is my witness. 
 Tinged by ^gisthus' sword ; the gushing blood, 
 Now stiffen'd, stains its Tyrian-tinctured ra- 
 diance. 
 
 Ores. I see the doom assign'd me : as the car 
 
 Whirl'd from its course by the impetuous 
 steeds 
 
 That scorn the reins, so my exulting heart 
 Bounds with tumultuous and ungovern'd pas- 
 sions. 
 
 Yet let me plead, whilst reason holds her seat. 
 Plead to my friends, that in the cause of justice 
 I slew my mother ; for her impious hands, 
 Stain'd with my father's blood, call'd down 
 revenge 
 
THE CHOEPHOR.^: OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 143 
 
 From the offended Gods. And here I plead, 
 To mitigate the deed, the Pythian prophet, 
 Phoebus, whose voice pronounced me from the 
 shrine. 
 
 If I achieved the vengeance, free from guilt : 
 To my refusal dreadful was his threat 
 Of punishments, beyond the reach of thought. 
 Graced with this branch of olive and this 
 wreath, 
 
 I will approach his shrine, his central throne *, 
 And his eternal fires, there to be cleansed 
 From the pollution of this kindred blood. 
 Ha ! look, ye female captives, what are these 
 Vested in sable stoles, of Gorgon aspect, 
 Their starting locks tangled with knots of 
 vipers ! 
 
 I fly, I fly ; I cannot bear the sight. 
 Chor. What phantoms, what unreal shadows thus 
 
 Distract thee ? Victor in thy father's cause. 
 
 To him most dear, start not at fancied terrors. 
 Ores. These are no phantoms, no unreal shadows ; 
 
 I know them now ; my mother's angry Furies. 
 Chor. The blood as yet is fresh upon thy hands. 
 
 And thence these terrors sink into thy soul. 
 
 * The Greeks considered the temple of Apollo at Delphi, a 
 valley of Mount Parnassus, as the centre of the earth, and told a 
 foolish story about Jupiter letting loose two doves of equal swiftness 
 from the extremities of the world, which met at the place where the 
 temple was built. Mr. Bryant, in his Analysis, informs us that this 
 notion arose from a corruption of the words Omphi-El, which sig- 
 nify the Oracle of the Sun, but resemble in sound a Greek word 
 w^hich means navel, whence Delphi was commonly reputed um- 
 bilicus terrae. 
 
144? GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Ores. Royal Apollo, how their numbers swell ! 
 
 And the foul gore drops from their hideous 
 eyes. 
 
 CnoR. Within are lavers. Soon as thou shalt reach 
 His shrine, Phoebus will free thee from these 
 ills. 
 
 Ores. But see you nothing there ? Again, look, 
 look! 
 
 Distraction 's in the sight : I fly, I fly. 
 Ciior. Blest may'st thou be : and may the God, 
 
 whose eye 
 
 Looks on thee, guard thee in tliese dreadful 
 dangers ! 
 
 Thrice on this royal house the bursting 
 storm 
 
 Hath pour'd its rage in blood. Thyestes first 
 Mourn'd for his slaughter'd sons. Th' imperial 
 lord, 
 
 The leader of the martial hosts of Greece, 
 Next fell beneath the murd'ring sword, arid 
 stain'd 
 
 Th' ensanguined bath. Then came th' intrepid 
 youth 
 
 Arm'd with the sword — of Freedom sliould I 
 say, 
 
 Or fate ? — How long shall vengeance pour lier 
 terrors ? 
 
 When curb her fiery rage, and sleep in peace '( 
 
 END OF THE ClIOErilOR.E. 
 
EUMENIDES, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE FURIES. 
 
 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 ORESTES. 
 
 MINERVA. 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 JUDGES OF THE AREOPAGUS. 
 CHORUS, THE FURIES. 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF ^SCHYLUS. 147 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Orestes fled, according to his declaration at the 
 close of the last tragedy, to the temple of Apollo at 
 Delphi, to implore deliverance from the Furies, who 
 haunted him continually on account of the death of 
 his mother. This play commences with solemn 
 rites in honour of the Gods, performed by the Py- 
 thian priestess in the vestibule of the temple. The 
 temple then opens and discovers Orestes in an atti- 
 tude of supplication before the God, surrounded by 
 a grisly troop of female furies, overcome with fa- 
 tigue in pursuing their wretched victim over land 
 and wave, city and sea-girt isle ; and now snoring 
 loudly in profound slumber. In answer to the prayer 
 of Orestes, Apollo commands him to repair to the 
 image of Minerva, in her favoured city, where means 
 shall be devised to ratify his pardon and peace. 
 Orestes having accordingly departed to Athens, 
 the ghost of Clytemnestra rises, and chides, in the 
 bitterest terms, the infernal powers, (yet snoring,) 
 for their remissness in thus indulging repose, instead 
 of hunting their victim to the death, when once they 
 had snuffed the scent of blood. One of the Furies, 
 at length awaking, instantly takes alarm, and vio- 
 lently seizes the Fury next her, screaming out, 
 
 Awake, arise : rouse her as I rouse thee; 
 
 an exclamation which, as implying that there was 
 
1^8 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 only one more to be awoke, seems to strengthen the 
 supposition that the number was limited to three, 
 Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaira, although it is not 
 so represented in Flaxman's accompanying design. 
 Once roused from slumber, they yell out their rage 
 against Apollo for suffering Orestes to escape while 
 they slept, and the god very unceremoniously drives 
 them out of his temple, denouncing them as detested 
 hags of hell, with other harsh and scornful epithets, 
 little suited to our notions of celestial dignity. 
 
 Orestes next appears, in obedience to the voice 
 of the Delphic oracle, a suppliant at the shrine of 
 Pallas, in the Acropolis of Athens. The advocates 
 of what they pleasantly term the *' Aristotelic " uni- 
 ties, are highly offended at this sudden change of 
 scene, in open violation of their boasted unity of 
 place ; and they rail at it in good French and bad 
 Latin accordingly. The feelings of the English 
 reader, albeit unused to quarrel with the similar 
 metabases so frequent in our Shakspeare, have been 
 spared so severe a shock as stirs the bile of the 
 French critics on this occasion, by the excision of 
 all that part of the drama which precedes the ap- 
 pearance of Orestes in the temple of Minerva. In 
 answer to the prayer of her suppliant, the goddess 
 consents to put him on his trial, before selected 
 judges of the Areopagus, and to abide their decision 
 as to his guilt or innocence. A brief account of the 
 institution to which so signal a mark of even divine 
 approbation is ascribed by the poet, who doubtless 
 intended this as the most flattering compliment he 
 could pay to his countrymen, may not be unac* 
 ceptable. 
 
 The number of persons who composed the court 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF iESCHYLUS. 149 
 
 of Areopagus at Athens, which Aristides pronounces 
 the most sacred and venerable tribunal of all Greece, 
 is not certainly known. Maximus informs us that 
 it consisted of fifty-one members, besides such men 
 of rank as were eminent both for their virtue and 
 their riches. Those of the archons, or governors- 
 general of Attica, who had served their office irre- 
 proachably, were usually admitted. Such was the 
 general reputation of the court for the fairness and 
 integrity of its decisions, that foreign states often 
 voluntarily submitted their disputes to its arbitra- 
 tion, and bound themselves to abide by its award. 
 
 Among the Athenians themselves, the crime of idle- 
 ness, which they looked upon as the root of all evil, 
 was one that came especially under the cognizance 
 of the Areopagus. All matters relating to religion 
 and the worship of the gods were also referred to 
 the decision of this court; whence, in the 17th 
 chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, we find Saint 
 Paul arraigned before it, as a setter forth of strange 
 gods, because when certain philosophers of the 
 Epicureans and of the Stoics encountered him, he 
 preached unto them Jesus and the resurrection, 
 " to the Greeks foolishness." And it was to them 
 more immediately, that the same apostle directs 
 that admirable address commencing Acts ch. xvii. 
 V. 22. 
 
 They sat in the open air, because they took 
 cognizance of murder and other offences of the 
 deepest dye, and dreaded the pollution of capital 
 criminals, if admitted under the same roof: tjiey 
 heard pleadings at night only, and in darkness, that 
 they might not see the parties, nor be influenced by 
 any external circumstance whatever. They per- 
 
150 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 mitted facts only to be stated, without any of the 
 ornaments of rhetoric. On the tribunal were placed 
 two urns, one of brass, the other of wood ; into the 
 former the shells of condemnation were cast, into 
 the latter those of acquittal. Pericles undermined 
 the purity and authority of this tribunal, in revenge 
 for their refusal to admit him as a member, and 
 from his time it ceased to be an object of much ve- 
 neration. 
 
 On the passage in Cicero's defence of Milo, which 
 refers to the acquittal of Orestes by the goddess of 
 wisdom herself, when the voices of his human 
 judges were equally divided, Bishop Hurd, in his 
 notes on the Ars Poetica of Horace, thus comments : 
 
 The venerable council of Areopagus, when judging 
 by the severe rules of written justice, it seems, did 
 not condemn the criminal, and the unwritten law of 
 equity, which the fable calls the wisdom of Pallas, 
 formally acquitted him 
 
 " The pagan doctrine of Fate was such, that in 
 order to discharge duty in one respect, it was un- 
 avoidable to incur guilt in another. This was the 
 case here ; Phoebus commanded and fate had de- 
 creed : yet obedience was a crime, to be expiated by 
 future punishment. 
 
 " This may seem strange to us, who have other 
 notions of these matters, but was perfectly according 
 to the pagan system. The result is, that they know- 
 ingly exposed themselves to vengeance in order to 
 fulfil their fate. All that remained was to lament 
 their destiny, and revere the awful and mysterious 
 providence of their gods." 
 
 We shall no longer detain the reader from the 
 temple of Minerva, and the trial itself. 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
 151 
 
 Scene, the Temple of Minerva at Athens ; Orestes alone before 
 the statue of the goddess, in an attitude of supplication. 
 
 Ores. Hither, divine Minerva, by command 
 
 Of Phoebus, am I come. Propitious power 
 Receive me, by the Furies' tort'ring rage 
 Pursued, no vile unhallow'd wretch, nor stain'd 
 With guilty blood, but worn with toil, and 
 spent 
 
 With many a painful step to other shrines. 
 
 And in the paths of men. By land, by sea 
 
 Wearied alike, obedient to the voice. 
 
 The oracle of Phoebus, I approach 
 
 Thy shrine, thy statue, Goddess ; here to fix 
 
 My stand, till judgment shall decide my cause. 
 
 [Here the Chorus of Furies enter,] 
 
 Chor. These toils oppress me, as with breathless 
 haste 
 
 I urge the keen pursuit : o'er the long tract 
 Of continent, and o'er th' extended ocean. 
 Swift as the flying ship I hold my course. 
 Though on no pennons borne. — There, there he 
 stands, 
 
 His speed outstripping mine. Have I then 
 
 found thee ? 
 With joy I snufF the scent of human blood- 
 Take heed, take heed : keep careful watch ; nor 
 
 let 
 
 This murderer of his mother once more 'scape, 
 By secret flight, your vengeance: trembling, 
 weak, 
 
15^ 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS, 
 
 He hangs upon the image of the goddess, 
 And wishes to be clear 'd of his base deeds. 
 It may not be : no : when the fluent moisture 
 Has sunk into the ground, 'tis lost for ever : 
 Can then a mother's blood, spilt on the earth, 
 Be from the earth recover'd ? No. Thy hour 
 Of sufF'ring is arrived, the hour that gives 
 The purple stream that warms thy heart to 
 quench 
 
 My thirst, which burns to quaff thy blood, and 
 bend 
 
 To the dark realms below thy wasted limbs ; 
 There, for thy mother's murder, shalt thou 
 learn 
 
 To taste of pain ; there see whatever mortal 
 Dared an injurious deed, profaned the Gods, 
 Attack'd with ruffian violence the stranger, 
 Or raised his impious hand against a parent, 
 Each with vindictive pains condemn'd to groan, 
 His crimes requiting ; for beneath the earth, 
 The awful judge of mortals, Pluto sits. 
 And with relentless justice marks their deeds. 
 Ores. Train'd in affliction's rigid lore, I know 
 Many ablutions : when to speak I know, 
 When to be silent : inspiration now 
 With heavenly wisdom prompts my tongue to 
 plead. 
 
 The faded blood is vanish'd from my hands. 
 Nor from my mother's slaughter leaves a 
 stain ; 
 
 The recent crimson at Apollo's shrine 
 Wash'd off with lavers pure, atoned with gifts. 
 All things with time grow old, and w^ear away. 
 And now from hallow'd lips my pious prayer 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF ^SCHYLUS. 153 
 
 Invokes the power presiding o'er this realm, 
 Royal Minerva, that she haste to aid 
 Her suppliant : so, with voluntary zeal 
 Myself, my country, all the Argive people, 
 To her with justice I devote for ever. 
 If in the coasts of Libya, on the banks 
 Of Triton *, native stream, she sets her foot. 
 Or bare or buskin'd, prompt to aid her 
 friends ; 
 
 If o'er the plains of Phlegra, like a chief 
 That marshals his bold troops, she darts her 
 eye. 
 
 Her presence I implore ; though distant far, 
 The goddess hears ; to free me from these ills. 
 CiioR. No : not Apollo, nor Minerva's power 
 
 Shall set thee free, but that an abject outcast 
 Thou drag thy steps, seeking in vain to find 
 Rest to thy joyless soul, exhausted, worn, 
 A lifeless shadow. Yet thy pride replies not, 
 Me and my threats despising, though to me 
 Devoted, my rich victim, and alive 
 To feed my rage, not ofFer'd on the altar. 
 Hear now the potent strain, that charms thee 
 mine. 
 
 PROSODE. 
 
 Quickly, sisters, stand around. 
 Raise your choral warblings high; 
 Since, the guilty soul to wound, 
 Swells the horrid harmony. 
 Since to mortal man we show 
 How we give his fate to flow ; 
 
 * Tritonis was a lake- and river of Libya, whence Pallas was 
 called Tritonia ; either from a tennple dedicated to her near the 
 place, or, because it was there that she sprang from the skull of 
 Jove. 
 
154 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Since our will his doom ordains, 
 Show that justice 'mongst us reigns. 
 He, whose hands from guilt are pure. 
 Stands in innocence secure ; 
 And from youth to honour'd age 
 Fears not our vindictive rage. 
 To the wretch, that strives to hide 
 Ruffian hands with murder dyed, 
 Clothed in terrors we appear. 
 Unrelentingly severe ; 
 And, faithful to the injured dead. 
 Pour our vengeance on his head. 
 
 Strophe. 
 
 Hear me, dread parent, sable-vested Night, 
 O hear the avenger of each impious deed ; 
 
 Whether we lie in shades conceal'd. 
 
 Or to the eye of day reveal'd! 
 Seest thou how Phoebus robs me of my right, 
 From my just rage the trembling victim freed, 
 
 Destined his mother's death t' atone, 
 
 And for her blood to shed his own! 
 
 O'er my victim raise the strain. 
 
 And let the dismal sound 
 
 His tortured bosom wound. 
 
 And to phrensy fire his brain. 
 
 Silent be the silver shell, 
 
 Whilst we chant the potent spell ; 
 Then yelling bid the infernal descant roll. 
 To harrow up his soul. 
 
 Antistrophe 1. 
 
 Avenging fate, as bending o'er the loom 
 She wove the web, to us this part assign'd. 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 155 
 
 " Whoe'er the laws shall dare disdain 
 And his rude hand with murder stain, 
 
 Pursue him Furies, urge his rigorous doom, 
 
 Till refuge in the realms he find." 
 
 o 
 
 E'en there not free ; my chast'ning power 
 
 Pursues him to that dreary shore. 
 
 O'er my victim raise the strain, 
 
 And let the dismal sound 
 
 His tortured bosom wound. 
 
 And to phrensy fire his brain. 
 
 Silent be the silver shell, 
 
 Whilst we chant the potent spell ; 
 Then yelling bid th' infernal descant roll, 
 To harrow up his soul. 
 
 Antistrophe 2. 
 
 His wrathful eye heav'n's mighty monarch 
 rolls. 
 
 Awfully silent on this blood-stain'd race. 
 
 But all the gorgeous blaze of power, 
 
 Which trembling mortals here adore. 
 When, mantled in these sable-shaded stoles. 
 With blood-besprinkled feet we urge the chase, 
 
 Sinks darkling to the infernal shades, 
 
 And all its boasted glory fades. 
 
 Near him, as he flies, I bound. 
 
 And when, with guilt opprest. 
 
 His weary steps would rest. 
 
 Spurn him headlong to the ground. 
 
 Senseless he, perchance, and blind. 
 
 Such the phrensy of his mind. 
 Such the deep gloom guilt spreads around his 
 
 walls, 
 
 He knows not that he falls. 
 
1.56 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS* 
 
 Epode. 
 
 But sliall shelt'ring wall or gloom 
 That from dark'ning guilt is spread, 
 Hide him from his rigorous doom, 
 Or protect his destined head ? 
 Mine the vengeance to design, 
 And to stamp it deep is mine. 
 Sternly mindful of the crime, 
 Nor by man appeased, nor time, 
 When the wretch, whose deed unblest 
 Dares profane high Heaven's behest. 
 Though conceal'd from mortal eyes 
 Through the sunless darkness flies, 
 We pursue the rugged chase. 
 And his dubious footsteps trace. 
 Hear then, guilty mortals, hear, 
 And the righteous gods revere ; 
 Hear the task to me assign'd, 
 Fate the firm decree shall bind ; 
 Mine the prize of old ordain'd, 
 Never with dishonour stain'd. 
 Though my drear abode profound 
 Night and darkness cover round. 
 
 Minerva, Orestes, Chorus. 
 
 MiN. Whose was the voice that call'd ? Though dis- 
 tant far 
 
 I heard it, where Scamander laves the fields. 
 My ancient right : to me the Grecian chiefs 
 With voluntary zeal assign'd this portion 
 Of their rich conquest, ever to be mine, 
 Selected as a gift to the brave race 
 Of Theseus. With a speed that equals wings 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF AESCHYLUS. 
 
 157 
 
 My vig'rous steeds thence whirl'd my car, the 
 wind 
 
 Against my aegis * rusthng as I pass'd. 
 But who are these consorted here ? Mine eye 
 Views them unterrified ; but much I marvel. 
 What, and whence are you? To you all I 
 speak. 
 
 To him, the stranger, seated at my image, 
 And you, whose hideous shape resembles 
 nought 
 
 Of mortal race, nor goddesses in heaven. 
 
 Chor. Daughter of Jove, take our report in brief. 
 We are the gloomy daughters of black Night, 
 Called Furies in the drear abodes below. 
 
 MiN. I know your race, and aptly added titles. 
 
 Chor. 'Tis ours to drive all murd'rers from their 
 home. 
 
 Where they shall never taste or peace or joy. 
 MiN. And does thy yelling voice thus drive him out? 
 Chor. He dared to be the murderer of his mother. 
 iVliK. Urged by the force of no necessity ? 
 Chor. What force could urge the wretch to kill his 
 mother ? 
 
 MiN. He hears but half that hears one party only. 
 Chor. Hear thou the cause, and judge with righteous 
 justice. 
 
 MiN. Rests the decision of the cause on me? 
 Chor. We reverence thee as worthiest 'midst the 
 worthy. 
 
 MiN. Say, stranger, what canst thou reply to this ? 
 Speak first thy race, thy country, thy misfor - 
 tunes ; 
 
 * The shield of Jupiter ; but borne also by Minerva. 
 
158 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Then urge thy plea against this accusation ; 
 If trusting in the justice of thy cause, 
 Thus seated near my altar, thou embrace 
 With reverent hands, a suppliant as Ixion 
 My statue. Be thy answer short and clear. 
 Ores. Royal Minerva, let me first remove 
 
 What thy last words, with much concern, sug- 
 gest. 
 
 I am not stain'd with blood, nor shall my hand 
 Pollute thy statue : w^hat I urge in proof 
 Bears strong conviction. Him, whose hands 
 are red 
 
 With blood, the laws forbid to plead his cause, 
 Till with its flowing gore the new-slain victim 
 Has made atonement, and the cleansing wave 
 Restored his purity. In other shrines 
 Long since these hallow'd rites have been per- 
 formed 
 
 With ofFer'd victims and the flowing stream. 
 Blameless of this offence, I next declare 
 My race : an Argive : nor to thee unknown 
 My sire, the leader of the naval hosts. 
 The royal Agamemnon ; for with him 
 Thy conquering hand laid the proud wails of 
 Troy 
 
 In dust ; returning to his house he perish'd 
 
 * Ixion married the daughter of Deioneus, king of Phocis : 
 having treacherously murdered his wife's father, he was refused 
 purification on earth, and roamed through the world a fugitive and 
 a vagabond, till, at the last, Jupiter, moved to pity, expiated his 
 crime and received him into heaven. Here he became enamoured 
 of Juno, whom he found a goddess indeed in pursuit, but a cloud 
 in possession. By the continually revolving wheel to which Ixion 
 was fabled to have been subsequently fastened in hell, the eternity 
 of divine punishments is thought to have been intimated. 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 159 
 
 By deeds of baseness ; for my dark-soul'd 
 mother 
 
 With wily art in private murder'd him ; 
 Th' ensanguined bath attested the foul deed. 
 I, then an exile, bending back my steps, 
 Slew her that gave me birth ; nor shall my 
 tongue 
 
 Deny the deed ; it was a vengeance due 
 To my loved father's shade : so Phoebus deem'd, 
 Who urged me, and denounced heart-rending 
 woes, 
 
 Should I shrink back refusing to avenge 
 The guilt ; but if with justice, be thou judge. 
 To thy deciding voice my soul submits. 
 MiN. This is a cause of moment, and exceeds 
 The reach of mortal man ; nor is it mine 
 To judge, when blood with eager rage excites 
 To vengeance. Thou with preparation meet 
 Hast to my shrine approach'd a suppliant pure. 
 Without offence ; and to my favour'd city 
 Uncharged with blame I readily receive thee. 
 Let these, whose ruthless rage knows not the 
 touch 
 
 Of pity, not succeeding in their plea, 
 Retire awhile, till judgment shall decide 
 The contest : from their breasts black poison 
 flows. 
 
 And taints the sick'ning earth. Thus I pro- 
 nounce 
 
 To each, unequal in this dubious strife 
 To give content to both. But since to me 
 Th' appeal is made, it shall be mine t' elect 
 Judges of blood, their faith confirm'd by oath^ 
 And ratify the everlasting law. 
 
GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Prepare you for the trial, call your proofs, 
 Arrange your evidence, bring all that tends 
 To aid your cause : I from the holiest men 
 That grace my city will select, to judge 
 This cause with justice ; men whose sanctity 
 Abhors injustice, and reveres an oath. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Strophe 1. 
 Confusion on these upstart laws ! 
 
 Havoc with haughty stride 
 
 Shall march, and wave her banner wide, 
 If venial be this bloody caitiff's cause. 
 
 Impunity shall mortals lead 
 
 To every savage deed. 
 And prompt the son with rage unblest 
 To plant the dagger in the parent's breast, 
 I smile at all this lawless force ; 
 
 Nor shall our dreaded power 
 
 In vengeance visit impious mortals more : 
 No : let destruction take her destined course. 
 
 Antistrophe 1. 
 Whilst his own anguish one shall moan, 
 He hears his neighbour tell, 
 Appall'd, of deeds as fierce, as fell ; 
 Tear falls to tear, and groan succeeds to groan. 
 Nor shall the rolling storm of woe 
 One gleam of comfort know. 
 When anguish rends the tortured breast, 
 Be not to us the mournful call addrest. 
 " Where is your throne, ye Furies, where 
 Justice ?" the father cries. 
 Or the pale mother, as in blood she lies : 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 161 
 
 But justice from her throne is exiled far. 
 Strophe 2, 
 
 Yet are there hours, when conscious fear 
 
 And the stern eye, that darts 
 
 Severely through their secret hearts, 
 With sober counsels check their mad career. 
 
 For when no ray of heavenly light 
 
 Breaks through the sullen night, 
 Dark deeds ensue, and virtue's power 
 By man, by state is reverenced no more. 
 Shall he, the wretch that scorns control, 
 
 And spurns each sacred law. 
 
 Or he that drags his chain with servile awe. 
 Feel the sweet peace that calms the virtuous 
 soul ? 
 
 Antistrophe 2. 
 
 Placed in the midst does strength reside, 
 
 With an indignant frown 
 
 On each extreme the Gods look down ; 
 Injustice is the child of impious pride. 
 
 But all the joys that life can know. 
 
 From temper'd wisdom flow. 
 To justice chief thy soul incline, 
 And bow with reverence at her hailow'd shrine ; 
 
 Nor dare, allured by cursed gold. 
 
 With foot profane and bold 
 To spurn her altars : vengeance waits the 
 crime, 
 
 And arm'd with terrors knows her destined time 
 Epode. 
 
 Let each with awe profound 
 A parent's honour'd name obey : 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Each to thy milder voice, humanity, 
 Attentive homage pay, 
 
 When for the stranger thou art found 
 
 Pleading thy strains of pious potency. 
 He, that to virtue's heavenly power 
 Unforced his willing soul shall bow, 
 Nor ruin's tyrant rage shall know. 
 Nor keen affliction's torturing hour. 
 
 But he, that dares her sacred laws despise, 
 Trampling on justice to secure his prey, 
 
 Appaird shall hear the rushing whirlwinds rise. 
 And tremble at the storms that swell the sea. 
 Wild with despair 
 He pours his prayer, 
 Whirl'd in the giddy tempest round : 
 His blasted pride 
 The Gods deride, 
 And all his daring hopes confound ; 
 Smile, as they view him rack'd with pain 
 Bound in misfortune's iron chain ; 
 
 As an the pointed rock they see him thrown, 
 
 To perish there in pain, unpitied and alone. 
 
 Minerva, Apollo, Orestes, Chorus. 
 (The Judges of the Areopagus seated.) 
 
 MiN. Now, herald, let thy voice to all my people 
 Proclaim attention : sound the Tuscan trumpet, 
 That its ear-piercing notes may fill the city, 
 Commanding silence, and impressing awe 
 Due to this great assembly ; that the state 
 May learn my everlasting laws, and hear 
 The righteous judgment that decides this^ 
 cause. 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF .ESCHYLUS. 
 
 163 
 
 Chor. Royal Apollo, where thy rule extends, 
 
 There lord it : but what right canst thou claim 
 here ? 
 
 Apol. To give my evidence I come. This man 
 Is at my shrine a suppliant, at my shrine 
 He sojourns ; with ablutions pure I cleansed 
 His stains of blood ; and now shall plead his 
 cause. 
 
 Our common cause, since for his mother's 
 death 
 
 Your accusations reach e'en me : but thou 
 Urge, as thou canst, thy plea : open the charge. 
 MiN. This is incumbent on you ; open then 
 
 The cause : th' accuser's voice must first ex- 
 plain 
 
 Clearly through every circumstance the charge. 
 Chor. Though we are many, brief shall be our 
 words. 
 
 Now answer me in order, word for word. 
 My first demand is. Didst thou kill thy mo- 
 ther? 
 
 Ores. I did ; and never shall deny the deed ; 
 
 I drew my sword, and plunged it in her breast. 
 Chor. At whose persuasion? Or by whose ad- 
 vice ? 
 
 Ores. By his oracular voice : he will attest it. 
 Chor. Apollo urge thee to this bloody deed ! 
 Ores. Nor thus far have I to accuse my fate. 
 Chor. Far other language the condemning vote 
 
 Will teach thy tongue. 
 Ores. My confidence is firm ; 
 
 My father from the tomb will send me aid. 
 Chor. Thy sword is purple with thy mother's 
 blood. 
 
 M 2 
 
164 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Ores. Her breast was spotted with a double stain : 
 She slew my father when she slew her hus- 
 band. 
 
 Chor. And yet thou liv'st : from that stain she is 
 free. 
 
 Ores. Why, whilst she lived, didst thou not drive 
 her out ? 
 
 Chor. She had no kindred blood with him she 
 slew. 
 
 Ores. Is mine allied then to my mother's blood ? 
 Chor. How else, before thy birth, did she sustain, 
 How nourish thee ? The murd'rous wretch 
 disowns 
 
 That dearest of all ties, a mother's blood. 
 
 Ores. Now let me call thy testimony ; now 
 Declare, Apollo, if I slew her justly : 
 For that I slew her, in such circumstance, 
 I do confess : if rightfully, or not. 
 Decide, that I to these may plead thy sanction. 
 
 Apol. To you, the great and reverend council here 
 Placed by Minerva, will I speak, and truly ; 
 For never shall the God of Prophecy 
 Pronounce a falsehood : never have I utter'd 
 From my oracular seat, to man, to woman, 
 Or state, save what the great Olympian Sire 
 Shall have commanded. Of his sovereign jus- 
 tice 
 
 Learn you the force, and bow to his high will ; 
 Nor deem an oath of greater power than Jove. 
 Chor. This oracle, thou say'st, was dictated 
 
 By Jove, to charge Orestes, whilst his hand 
 Was arm'd with vengeance for a father's mur- 
 der, 
 
 To pay no reverence to his mother's blood. 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF ^SCHYLUS. 165 
 
 Apol. Of higher import is it, when a man 
 Illustrious for his virtues, by the Gods 
 Exalted to the regal throne, shall die. 
 Die by a woman's hand, by one that dares not 
 Bend, like an Amazon, the stubborn bow. 
 But hear me, Pallas, hear me you that sit 
 In awful judgement to decide this cause. 
 Victorious from the war, with glory crown'd, 
 And graced with many a trophy, at the bath 
 She smilingly received him ; there refresh'd, 
 As o'er his head he threw the splendid robe 
 Prepared to muffle him, she slew her hus- 
 band. 
 
 So died the chief, the glorious, the renown'd, 
 The leader of the warlike troops of Greece ! 
 
 Chor. So Jove, it seems, respects the father's fate ; 
 Yet on his father he could bind the chain, 
 On hoary Saturn * : thus his deed gainsays 
 Thy words : I pray you mark the poor evasion. 
 
 Apol. Detested hags, the abhorrence of the Gods ! 
 He could unbind these chains, and the release 
 Has a medicinal power. But when the blood, 
 That issues from the slain, sinks in the dust, 
 It never rises more. For this my sire 
 No remedy admits, in all besides 
 With sovereign power or ruins or restores. 
 
 Chor. See with what ill-judged zeal thy arguments 
 Tend to absolve him ! Shall the wretch, whose 
 hand 
 
 Spilt on the earth the kindred blood that flow'd 
 Within his mother's veins, return to Argos 
 
 * The statues of Saturn were usually hung with fetters, in 
 commemoration of the chains with which he had been bound when 
 dethroned and imprisoned by Jupiter. 
 
166 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Lord of his father's house ? Before what altar, 
 Sacred to pubHc offerings, shall he bend ? 
 What friendly laver shall admit his hands ? 
 Apol. This too shall I explain ; and mark me well, 
 If reason guide my words. The mother's 
 power 
 
 Produces not the offspring, ill call'd hers. 
 No : 'tis the father, that to her commits 
 The infant plant ; she but the teeming soil 
 That gives the stranger growth, if favouring 
 Heaven 
 
 Denies it not to flourish : this I urge 
 In proof, a father may assert that name 
 Without a mother's aid : an instance sits 
 Minerva, daughter of Olympian Jove ; 
 Not the slovz produce of nine darkling months, 
 But form'd at once in all her perfect bloom : 
 Such from no pregnant goddess ever sprung. 
 Thy state, thy people, Pallas, be it mine 
 To exalt to glory, and what else of greatness 
 I know to give. This suppliant to thy shrine 
 I sent, assuring his eternal faith ; 
 Thy votary he, and his descendants thine. 
 From sire to son through all succeeding ages. 
 MiN. The pleas are urged : these now I charge to 
 give 
 
 Sentence, with strict regard to truth and jus- 
 tice. 
 
 Chor. We have discharged our shafts : and now I 
 wait 
 
 To hear what sentence shall decide this cause. 
 Mm. What, am I never to escape your censure ? 
 Chor. Give what you 've heard due weight ; and 
 with pure hearts 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 167 
 
 Pronouncing judgment reverence your high 
 oath. 
 
 Mm. Ye citizens of Athens, now attend, 
 
 Whilst this great council in a cause of blood 
 First give their judgment. But through fu- 
 ture ages 
 
 This awful court shall to the hosts of ^Egeiis 
 With uncorrupted sanctity remain. 
 Here on this mount of Mars * the Amazons 
 Of old encamp'd, when their embattled troops 
 March'd against Theseus, and in glittering 
 arms 
 
 Breathed vengeance ; here their new-aspiring 
 towers 
 
 Raised high their rampired heads to storm his 
 towers ; 
 
 And here their hallow'd altars rose to Mars : 
 Hence its illustrious name the cliff retains, 
 The Mount of Mars. In this the solemn state 
 Of this majestic city, and the awe 
 That rises thence shall be a holy guard 
 Against injustice, shall protect the laws 
 Pure and unsullied from th' oppressive power 
 Of innovation, and th' adulterate stain 
 Of foreign mixture : Should thy hand pollute 
 The liquid fount with mud, where wilt thou 
 find 
 
 The grateful draught ? Let not my citizens 
 Riot in lawless anarchy, nor wear 
 The chain of tyrant power, nor from their 
 state 
 
 Loose all the curb of rigour : this removed, 
 * The word Areopagus means Mars'-hill. 
 
168 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 What mortal man, unchecked with sense of fear, 
 Would reverence justice ? Let the majesty, 
 That here resides, impress your souls with awe ; 
 Your country has a fence, your town a guard, 
 Such as no nation knows ; not those that dwell 
 In Scythia, or the cultured realms of Pelops : 
 This court, superior to th' alluring glare 
 Of pestilent gold, this court, that claims your 
 awe 
 
 Severely just, I constitute your guard, 
 Watchful to shield your country and its peace : 
 These my commands to every future age 
 Have I extended. Now behoves you, judges, 
 Give test of your integrity ; bring forth 
 The shells ; with strictest justice give your 
 votes, 
 
 And reverence your high oath. This is my 
 charge. 
 
 Chor. Nor of their honours rob this train, whose 
 power 
 
 Is dreadfid in the drear abodes below. 
 Apol. And be my oracles, the voice of Jove, 
 
 Revered, nor seek to move their firm decree. 
 Chor. Beyond thy charge protecting deeds of 
 blood, 
 
 Nor reverend are thy oracles, nor pure. 
 Apol. Think of the expiation which of old 
 
 Ixion made for blood*; wilt thou arraign 
 My father's councils there ? Or slept his wis- 
 
 / dom ? 
 
 Chor. Thou say'st it: but if justice fails me here, 
 This land shall feel the terrors of my wrath. 
 
 * See note, page 158. 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF iESCHYLUS. 169 
 
 Apol. Unhonour'd thou by every power of heaven, 
 Or young, or old ; to triumph here is mine. 
 
 Chor. Such in the house of Pheres were thy deeds, 
 When, won by thy alluring voice, the Fates 
 On mortal man* conferr'd immortal honours. 
 
 Apol. To aid, to grace the pious, when their 
 prayers 
 
 Rightly invoke our influence, is just. 
 Chor. What, hast thou crush'd the power of ancient 
 Fate, 
 
 And wouldst thou now delude our honour'd 
 age ? 
 
 Apol. Soon shall thy malice, baffled in this cause, 
 
 Shed its black venom harmless to thy foes. 
 Chor, Since thy proud youth insults my hoary 
 years, 
 
 I wait th' event in silence, and suspend 
 The fury of my vengeance on this city. 
 MiN. Last to give suffrage in this cause is mine : 
 In favour of Orestes shall I add 
 My vote ; for as no mother gave me birth, 
 My grace in all things, save the nuptial rites. 
 Attends the male, as from my sire I drew 
 The vigour of my soul. No woman's fate, 
 Stain'd with her husband's blood, whom nature 
 form'd 
 
 Lord of his house, finds partial preference here. 
 Orestes, if the number of the votes 
 Be equal, is absolved. Now from the urn 
 Let those among the judges, to whose honour 
 This office is assign'd, draw forth the lots. 
 
 * Admetus, son of Pheres, whose flocks Apollo tended when 
 banished from heaven. 
 
170 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC TOETS. 
 
 Ores. O Phcebus, what th' event that waits this 
 cause ! 
 
 Chor. O Night, dark mother, through thy raven 
 gloom 
 
 Seest thou these things ? Now on the doubtful 
 edge 
 
 Of black despair I stand, or joyful light, 
 Driven out with infamy, or graced with honour. 
 Apol. Now, strangers, count the lots with wary 
 heed. 
 
 And with impartial justice sever them. 
 One shell misplaced haply brings ruin ; one 
 May raise again a desolated house. 
 
 MiN. ( after a pause,) He is absolved, free from 
 the doom of blood. 
 For equal are the numbers of the shells. 
 
 Ores. O thou, whose tutelary power preserved 
 
 The honours of my house, thou. Goddess, thou 
 Hast to his country and his native rites 
 Restored this exile ; and each Greek shall say, 
 This Argive to his father's throne returns ; 
 So Pallas wills, and Phoebus, and the God 
 All-powerful to protect : my father's deatli 
 He marked severe, and looks indignant down 
 On those that patronise my mother's cause. 
 First to this country, and to this thy people 
 Through time's eternal course I pledge my faith. 
 And bind it with an oath : now to my house 
 1 bend my steps : never may chieftain thence 
 Advance against this land with hostile spear. 
 If any shall hereafter violate 
 My oath now made, though tlien these 
 
 mould'ring bones 
 Rest in the silent tomb, my shade shall raise 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
 171 
 
 Invincible distress, disasters, toils, 
 To thwart them, and obstruct their lawless 
 marcli, 
 
 Till in dismay, repentant, they abhor 
 Their enterprise. But to the social powers 
 That reverence this thy state, and lift the lance 
 In its defence, benevolent shall be 
 My gentler influence. Hail, Goddess ; hail, 
 Ye guardians of this city ; be your walls 
 Impregnable, and in the shock of war 
 May conquest grace the spear that aids your 
 cause ! 
 
 Chor. I burst with rage. With cruel pride 
 
 These youthful Gods my slighted age deride ; 
 And, the old laws disdaining to obey, 
 Rend from my wither'd hands my prey. 
 Tortured with grief's corroding smart. 
 And taught disgrace and scorn to know, 
 Distilling from my anguish'd heart 
 The pestilential drop shall flow : 
 Where'er it falls, nor fruit around. 
 Nor leaf shall grace the blasted ground ; 
 Through the sick air its baleful dews 
 A caustic venom shall diflTuse ; 
 And breathing on this hated race 
 With deep rough scars the beauteous form 
 deface. 
 
 Vainly shall I heave my sighs. 
 Or bid my angry vengeance rise ? 
 To insults, which my bosom rend. 
 Vulgar spirits scorn to bend ; 
 And shall thy daughters, awful Night, in vain 
 Of their disgrace complain ? 
 MiN. Let my entreaties move you ; bear not this 
 
172 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 With such deep anger ; for no conquest here 
 Wounds your insulted honour : from the urn 
 The lots came equal, so disposed by truth, 
 To thee no insult ofF'ring ; and from Jove 
 Flowed splendid signs : he gave the oracle. 
 He added his high test, that for the deed 
 Orestes should not suffer. Breathe not then 
 Your heavy vengeance on this land ; restrain 
 Your indignation ; o'er these sick'ning fields 
 Drop not your pestilential dews, nor blast 
 Their glitt'ring verdure, and their springing 
 seeds. 
 
 Of all the Gods I only know the keys 
 That ope those solid doors within whose vaults 
 J ove's thunders sleep. Of these there is no need, 
 If, now persuaded, thy o'er-hasty tongue 
 Forbear those threats, from which no fruit can 
 flow. 
 
 But ruin to the earth : Compose that rage. 
 And here I pledge my faith this grateful land 
 Shall willingly receive you ; raise you seats 
 High at their blazing hearths, and with deep awe 
 Imprest, pay reverent honours to your power. 
 
 The ' Wierd Sisters ' remain long inexorable both 
 to the threats and the entreaties of Minerva ; at 
 length, however, overcome by persevering impor- 
 tunity, they yield to her persuasions, agree to se- 
 cond her efforts in the cause of mercy, and fix their 
 residence at Athens, where a temple and a festival 
 are thereupon dedicated to their honour. Minerva 
 then dismisses them to the altars at which victims 
 are being sacrificed, with the soothing and auspici- 
 ous words, 
 
THE EUMENIDES OF .ESCHYLUS. 
 
 173 
 
 Go to those sacred flames, they will conduct 
 you, 
 
 And from these hallow'd victims sink with 
 speed 
 
 To the dark shades below ; imprison there 
 Whate'er is noxious to these realms ; whate'er 
 Has influence to bless them, send in triumph. 
 And you, high-lineaged guardians of the state, 
 Attend these stranger-guests to their new seats, 
 And be each gentle thought attuned to good. 
 
 The Chorus then sing a votive strain, " breath- 
 ing blessings o'er the land," and retire w^ith pro- 
 mises that to the utmost of their power Athens 
 shall enjoy golden days, unclouded with grief or 
 care, as long as they continue to receive respect and 
 worship in the state. It w^as on this occasion that 
 their name was changed, from Erynnies or Furies, 
 to that of Eumenides or Benignant, whence the title 
 of the drama. 
 
 END OF THE EUMENIDES. 
 
ll 
 
THE 
 
 SEVEN CHIEFS 
 
 AGAINST 
 
 THEBES. 
 
 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA, 
 
 ETEOCLES. 
 SOLDIER. 
 ANTIGONE. 
 HERALD. 
 
 CHORUS OF THEBAN VIRGINS. 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 177 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The expedition of the Seven Chiefs against Thebes is 
 the first instance on record of a league among the 
 princes of Greece, or of any thing resembhng a re- 
 gular war. Eteocles and Polynices were sons of 
 GEdipus and Jocasta ; CEdipus, whose story we 
 shall see at length in Sophocles, when he learned 
 that he had killed his father Laius, and that Jocasta, 
 who had borne to him two sons and two daughters, 
 was his own mother, tore out his eyes in a transport 
 of despair and horror. His sons, grown up to man's 
 estate, deprived their father, now blind and doting, 
 of his kingdom : he in his resentment uttered the 
 most horrid imprecations against them, praying that 
 a father's curse might ever sow dissension between 
 them, and divide with a sword the kingdom they 
 had stolen. To avert this fatality it was agreed be- 
 tween the brothers that they should reign in Thebes 
 alternately, each for a year. Eteocles, the elder, 
 reigned first, but at the expiration of his year re- 
 fused to yield up the throne to his brother. Poly- 
 nices upon this fled to the court of Adrastus king of 
 Argos to implore assistance, and received in marriage 
 Argia, the daughter of that monarch ; Adrastus then 
 marched against Thebes, to support the claims of 
 his son-in-law, with an army led by seven of the 
 most renowned Argive generals, whence the name 
 of the tragedy. The scene is in the city of Thebes, 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 before the principal temple. The play begins with 
 an exhortation of Eteocles to the Theban citizens 
 to be vigorous and vigilant in defence of their be- 
 leagured walls : while he speaks, a soldier enters 
 with intelligence of the enemy : 
 
 Soldier, Eteocles, Chorus. 
 
 Sold. Illustrious king of Thebes, I bring thee 
 tidings 
 
 Of firm assurance from the foe ; these eyes 
 Beheld each circumstance. Seven valiant cliiefs 
 Slew on the black-orb'd shield the victim bull, 
 And dipping in the gore their furious hands, 
 In solemn oath attest the God of war, 
 Bellona, and the carnage-loving power 
 Of Terror, sworn from their firm base to rend 
 These walls, and lay their ramparts in the dust ; 
 Or, dying, with their warm blood steep this 
 earth. 
 
 Each in Adrastus' car some dear remembrance 
 Piled to their distant parents, whilst their eyes 
 Dropp'd tears, but on their face was no re- 
 morse. 
 
 Each soul of iron glowing with the rage 
 Of valour, as the lion w^hen he glares 
 Determined battle. What I now relate 
 Sleeps not, nor lingers : round the urn I left 
 them. 
 
 By lot deciding to what gate each chief 
 Should lead his forces. Against these select 
 
 * The famous augur Ampliiaraus, married to Eriphyle the 
 sister of Adrastus Icing of Argos, had foretold that he alone of the 
 chiefs should return from the Theban war. 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 179 
 
 The best, the bravest of the sons of Thebes, 
 And instant at the gates assign their stations. 
 For all in arms the Argive host comes on 
 Clouded in dust, and from the snorting steeds 
 The thick foam falls, and dews the whiteivd 
 fields. 
 
 Be thine the provident pilot's gen'rous care, 
 Guard well the town, e'er yet the storm assails : 
 E'en now the waves of war roar o'er the plain : 
 Seize then this fair occasion, instant seize it. 
 My faithful eye this day shall hold the watcJi, 
 That well inform'd, no danger may surprise thee. 
 Eteo. O Jove, O Earth, O all ye guardian Gods ; 
 And thou dread curse, the fury of my father, 
 Of fatal power, O rend not from its roots 
 This ruin'd city, by the insulting foe 
 Trampled in dust, her sweet Helladian tongue 
 Silent, and all her sacred fu'es extinct ! 
 CiioR. Woe, woe, intolerable woe! 
 
 Fierce from their camps the hosts advance. 
 
 Before their march with thundering tread 
 Proud o'er the plain their fiery coursers prance, 
 And hither bend their footsteps dread : 
 Yon cloud of dust that chokes the air, 
 A true though tongueless messenger, 
 Marks plain the progress of the foe. 
 And now the horrid clang of arms, 
 Tliat, like the torrent, whose impetuous tide 
 Roars down the mountain's craggy side. 
 Shakes the wide fields with fierce ahinns, 
 With nearer terrors strikes our souls. 
 And through our chaste recesses roils : 
 Hear, all ye powers of Heaven, propitious Iiear, 
 A]id check the furies of this threat'ning war ! 
 
180 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 The crowded walls around 
 Loud clamours rend the sky; 
 Whilst ranged in deep array th' embattled 
 powers 
 
 Their silver shields * lift high, 
 
 And, level with the ground 
 To lay their rampired heads, assail our towers. 
 
 What guardian God shall I implore ? 
 Bending at what sacred shrine 
 Call from their happy seats what powers divine, 
 And suppliant ev'ry sculptured form adore ? 
 The time demands it : why then, why delay? — 
 The sound of arms swells on my affrighted 
 ear. — • 
 
 Hold now the pall, the garland, as you pray. — 
 Hark ! 'tis the rude clash of no single spear. 
 Stern God of war, 
 Dost thou prepare 
 Thy sacred city to betray ? 
 Look down, look down ; 
 O save thine own ; 
 Nor leave us to our foes a prey : 
 If e'er thy soul had pleasure in the brave, 
 God of the golden helm, hear us, and save ! 
 
 And all ye powers, whose guardian care 
 Protects these walls, this favour'd land, 
 
 O hear these pious, suppliant strains ; 
 Propitious aid us, aid a virgin band. 
 
 And save us from the victor's chains ! 
 For all around with crested pride 
 High waves the helm's terrific tide, 
 
 * i. e. Plain or white shields, thus Thetis is styled 5i7m -footed 
 by Homer, to signify the whiteness of her feet. 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 181 
 
 Tost by the furious breath of war. 
 
 And thou, great Jove, almighty sire, 
 Confound with foul defeat these Argive powers, 
 Whose arms insult our leaguer'd towers. 
 
 And daunt our souls with hostile fire. 
 The reins that curb their proud steeds 
 
 'round. 
 
 Rattle, and death is in the sound. 
 'Gainst our seven gates seven chiefs of high 
 command. 
 
 In arms spear-proof, take their appointed stand ; 
 Daughter of Jove, whose soul 
 Glows at th' embattled plain, 
 And thou, by whom the pawing steed arose 
 Great monarch of the main 
 Curb'd by thy strong control ; 
 From our fears free us, free us from our foes ! 
 
 On thee, stern Mars, again I call : 
 Haste thee, God, and with thee bring 
 The Queen of Love, from whose high race we 
 spring ; 
 
 If Cadmus e'er was dear, defend his wall ! 
 Thou terror of the savage, Phcebus, hear, 
 
 In all thy terrors rush upon the foe ! 
 Chaste Virgin-huntress, Goddess ever dear. 
 Wing the keen arrow from thy ready bow ! 
 Hark ! fraught with war 
 The groaning car, 
 
 * The story was, that Neptune and Minerva both claimed the 
 honour of giving their name to Athens ; Jupiter decreed that 
 whichever produced the most useful present to mankind should 
 have the preference. Neptune struck the earth with his trident, 
 and gave existence to the horse ; Minerva with her spear raised 
 the olive tree, and conquered. 
 
182 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Imperial Juno ! shakes the ground ; 
 Fierce as they pass, 
 The wheels of brass, 
 Dear Virgin-huntress ! roar around : 
 The gleaming lustre of the brandish'd spear 
 Glares terribly across the troubled air. 
 Alas my country ! must these eyes. 
 
 Must these sad eyes behold thy fall ? 
 Ah, what a storm of stones, that flies 
 
 And, wing'd with ruin, smites the wall ! 
 O Phoebus ! at each crowded gate 
 Begins the dreadful work of fate ; 
 Each arm the thund'ring falchion wields. 
 And clashes on the sounding shields. 
 O thou, whose kind and matchless might. 
 Blest Onca*, through the glowing fight 
 Obedient conquest joys t' attend, 
 All our seven gates, dread queen, defend ! 
 And all ye mighty, guardian powers, 
 That here preside, protect our towers : 
 Nor the war-wasted town betray, 
 To fierce fraternal foes a prey ! 
 Ye Gods, deliverers of this land, 
 To whom we stretch the suppliant hand, 
 Hear us, O hear our virgin prayer. 
 And show that Thebes is yet your care ! 
 By every solemn temple, every shrine. 
 Each hallowed orgie, and each rite divine, 
 Each honour to your power in reverence paid, 
 Hear us, ye guardian Gods, hear us, and aid ! 
 
 Eteocles, Chorus. 
 Eteo. War is no female province, but the scene 
 * Minerva. 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 183 
 
 For men : hence, home ; nor spread your wail- 
 ings here. 
 
 Chor. Dear to thy comitry, son of CEdipus, 
 
 My soul was seized with terror, when I heard 
 The rapid car roll on, its whirling wheels 
 Grating harsh thunder ; and the iron curb 
 Incessant clashing on the barbed steed. 
 
 Eteo. What ! should the pilot, when the lab'ring bark 
 Scarce rides the swelling surge, forsake the 
 helm. 
 
 And seek his safety from the sculptured prow ? 
 
 Chor. Yet therefore to these ancient images, 
 Confiding in their sacred power, I ran. 
 When at the gates sharp sleet of arrowy shower 
 Drove hard ; my fears impell'd me to implore 
 The blest Gods to protect the city's strength. 
 
 EiEO. Pray that our towers repel the hostile spear. 
 My charge shall be at our seven gates to fix 
 Six of our bravest youth, myself the seventh, 
 In dreadful opposition to the foe ; 
 E'er yet the violent and tumultuous cry 
 Calls me perforce to join the fiery conflict. 
 
 Chor. Guard, ye great Gods, O guard our wall. 
 Nor let the towers of Cadmus fall ! 
 
 Strophe. 
 
 Before my sad presaging soul 
 What scenes of imaged horror roll ! 
 I see the tender virgin's woe. 
 E'er yet her ripened beauties glow ; 
 The hateful way I see her tread, 
 
 Forcibly torn from her sweet home : 
 Happier, far happier are the dead ; 
 
 They rest within the silent tomb. 
 
IM 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 But, the walls humbled to the ground, 
 What dreadful miseries rage around ! 
 Furious one leads the vengeful bands ; 
 One stains with blood his reeking hands ; 
 Wide roll, outrageous to destroy. 
 
 The dusky smoke, and torrent fires ; 
 Whilst slaught'ring Mars with hideous joy 
 
 The heaven-contemning rage inspires. 
 
 Antistrophe. 
 
 From house to house, from street to street. 
 The crashing flames roar round, and meet ; 
 Each way the fiery deluge preys, 
 And girds us with the circling blaze. 
 The brave, that 'midst these dire alarms 
 
 For their lost country greatly dare. 
 And fired with vengeance rush to arms, 
 
 Fall victims to the blood stain'd spear. 
 The bleeding babe with innocent cries. 
 Drops from his mother's breast, and 
 dies. 
 
 See rapine rushes, bent on prey, 
 His hasty step brooks no delay. 
 The spoiler, loaded with his store, 
 
 Envious the loaded spoiler views ; 
 Disdains another should have more. 
 And his insatiate toil renews. 
 Semi-ch. See, from his watch the veteran returns. 
 Bearing, I ween, fresh tidings from yon host. 
 Of highest import : quick his foot, and hasty. 
 Semi-ch. This way, behold, the son of QEdipus, 
 The king himself advances, pressing on 
 His hurried step to learn their new-form'd 
 measures. 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 185 
 
 Eteocles, Soldier, Chorus*. 
 
 Sold. Already near the Praetian gate in arms 
 
 Stands Tydeus raging ; for the prophet's voice 
 Forbids his foot to pass Ismenus' stream, 
 The victims not propitious : at the pass 
 Furious, and eager for the fight, the chief, 
 Fierce as the dragon when the midday sun 
 Calls forth his glowing terrors, raves aloud, 
 Reviles the sage, as forming tim'rous league 
 With war and fate. Frowning he speaks, and 
 shakes 
 
 The dark crest streaming o'er his shaded helm 
 In triple wave ; whilst dreadful ring around 
 The brazen bosses of his shield, impress'd 
 With this proud argument. A sable sky 
 Burning with stars ; and in the midst fuU- 
 orb'd 
 
 A silver moon, the eye of night, o'er all, 
 Awful in beauty, pours her peerless light. 
 Clad in these proud habiliments, he stands 
 Close to the river's margin, and with shouts 
 Demands the war, like an impatient steed. 
 That pants upon the foaming curb, and waits 
 With fiery expectation the known signal, 
 Swift as the trumpet's sound to burst away. 
 Before the Praetian gate, its bars removed. 
 What equal chief wilt thou appoint against him ? 
 Eteo. This military pride affects me not : 
 
 The gorgeous blazonry of arms, the crest 
 
 * Nothing can be more poetical, or less dramatic, than the 
 whole of this remarkable scene, the descriptions are vivid and 
 beautiful, but in direct violation of that requisite of tragedy that 
 its imitation shall be " in the way not of narration but of action." 
 
186 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 High waving o'er the hehu, the clanging boss, 
 Harmless without the spear, imprint no wound. 
 The sable night, spangled with golden stars. 
 On his proud shield impress'd, perchance may 
 prove 
 
 A gloomy presage. Should the shades of 
 night 
 
 Fall on his dying eyes, the boastful charge 
 May to the bearer be deem'd ominous, 
 And he the prophet of his own destruction. 
 Against his rage the son of Astacus, 
 Who breathes deliberate valour, at that gate 
 Will I appoint commander ; bent on deeds 
 Of glory, but a votary at the shrine 
 Of modesty, he scorns the arrogant vaunt 
 As base, but bids brave actions speak his worth. 
 The flower of that bold stem, which from the 
 ground 
 
 Rose arm'd, and fell not in the dreadful fight, 
 Is Melanippus ; him his parent earth 
 Claims as her own, and in her natural right 
 Calls him to guard her from the hostile spear*: 
 But the brave deed the die of war decides. 
 Sold. May the Gods crown his valiant toil with 
 conquest. 
 
 But Capaneus against the Electran gates 
 Takes his allotted post and towering stands 
 Vast as the earth-born giants, and inflamed 
 To more than mortal daring : horribly 
 He menaces the walls ; may Heaven avert 
 
 * As Melanippus here put forward against Tydeus, and Me- 
 gareus afterwards opposed to Eteoclus, were both of the dragon -race, 
 which sprang armed from the earth, there is a peculiar propriety 
 ill calling them forth to defend their fostering mother. 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 187 
 
 His impious rage ! vaunts that, the Gods as- 
 senting 
 
 Or not assenting, his strong hand shall rend 
 Their rampires down ; that e'en the rage of 
 Jove 
 
 Descending on the field should not restrain him. 
 His lightnings, and his thunders wing'd with 
 fire 
 
 He likens to the sun's meridian heat. 
 On his proud shield portrayed, a naked man 
 Waves in his hand a blazing torch ; beneath 
 In golden letters, I will fire the city *. 
 Against this man — But who shall dare t' en- 
 gage 
 
 His might, and dauntless his proud rage sus- 
 tain ? 
 
 Eteo. Advantage from advantage here arises. 
 
 The arrogant vaunts, which man's vain tongue 
 throws out, 
 
 Shall on himself recoil. This haughty chief 
 Threats high, and prompt to execute his 
 threats 
 
 Spurns at the Gods, opes his unhallowed lips 
 In shallow exultation, hurls on high, 
 AVeak mortal as he is, 'gainst Jove himself 
 Hurls his extravagant and wild defiance. 
 On him, I trust, the thunder wing'd with fire, 
 Far other than the sun's meridian heat, 
 Shall roll its vengeance. But against his pride, 
 Insolent vaunter, shall the glowing spirit, 
 That burns for glory in the daring breast 
 
 * The man being naked marks the contempt with which Capa- 
 neus treated the enemy, and implies that he needed no armour to 
 enable him to attack and lire the city. 
 
188 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Of Polyphontes, be opposed ; his arm, 
 Strong in Diana's tutelary aid, 
 Shall be a sure defence. But to thy tale ; 
 Who next before our gates assumes his station ? 
 CiiOR. Yes, let him perish, the proud foe. 
 
 That storms, in savage hope, the vanquish'd 
 town, 
 
 And rends its rampires down. 
 
 Him first may Heaven's almighty sire, 
 
 Rolling his vengeful fire. 
 
 Dash in the flaming ruin low * ; 
 
 Ere his impetuous spear 
 
 Bursts ev'ry bar of my retreat. 
 
 And from my virgin seat 
 
 Drags me perforce from all my soul holds dear. 
 Sold. Third from the brazen helm leap'd forth the 
 lot 
 
 Of fierce Eteoclus, who takes his post 
 Against the gates of Neis : there he whirls 
 His fiery-neighing steeds, that toss their heads 
 Proud of their nodding plumes, eager to rush 
 Against the gates, and snorting champ their 
 curbs 
 
 Boss'd with barbaric pride. No mean device 
 Is sculptured on his shield, a man in arms. 
 His ladder fix'd against the enemies' walls, 
 Mounts, resolute to rend their rampires down ; 
 And cries aloud, the letters plainly marked, 
 Not Mars himself shall beat me from the 
 
 TOWERS. 
 
 Appoint some chief of equal hardihood 
 To guard thy city from the servile yoke. 
 
 * Capaneus does perish by lightning accordingly. 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 
 
 189 
 
 Eteo. Such shall I send, to conquest send him ; one 
 That bears not in his hand this pageantry 
 Of martial pride. The hardy Megareus, 
 From Creon sprung, and that bold race which 
 rose 
 
 Embattled from the earth : him from the gates 
 The furious neighings of the fiery steeds 
 Affright not ; but his blood spilt on the earth 
 Amply requites the nourishment she gave him ; 
 Or, captive both, the man in arms, the town 
 Stormed on the sculptured shield, and the proud 
 bearer. 
 
 Shall with their spoils adorn his father's house. 
 Sold. At the next gate, named from the martial 
 Goddess 
 
 Onca Minerva, stands Hippomedon 
 
 I heard his thund'ring voice, I saw his form 
 
 In bulk and stature proudly eminent ; 
 
 I saw him roll his shield, large, massy, round, 
 
 Of broad circumference : it struck my soul 
 
 With terror. On its orb no vulgar artist 
 
 Expressed this image, a Typhoeus huge. 
 
 Disgorging from his foul and soot-grimed jaws. 
 
 In fierce effusion, wreaths of dusky sm.oke, 
 
 Signal of kindling flames : its bending verge 
 
 With folds of twisted serpents border'd round. 
 
 * Of the other gates we find no satisfactory account to lay be- 
 fore the reader : but the scholiast here observes that Onca was 
 one of the titles of Minerva at Thebes, which Cadmus intro- 
 duced from Phoenicia, where she was so called. The scholiast on 
 the second Olympic ode of Pindar asserts, that Cadmus erected 
 at "Oyjcoci^ a village in Boeotia, a statue of Pallas, who was there- 
 fore worshipped under the title of 'Oyxcctcx,', hence (it is said,) the 
 Irish Ogham, 
 
190 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 With shouts the giant-chief provokes the war ; 
 And in the ravings of outrageous valour 
 Glares terror from his eyes. Behoves thee 
 then 
 
 Strong opposition to his fiery rage, 
 Which at the gates e'en now spreads wild dis- 
 may. 
 
 Eteo. First, Onca Pallas, holding near the gates 
 Her hallowed state, abhors his furious rage, 
 And in her guardian care shall crush the pride 
 Of this fell dragon, 'i'lien the son of ^^Inops, 
 Hyperbius, of approved and steady valour, 
 Shall man to man oppose him ; one that dares 
 Encounter fate in the rough shock of battle ; 
 In form, in spirit, and in martial arms 
 Consummate ; such high grace Hermes con- 
 ferr'd. 
 
 In hostile arms thus man shall combat man. 
 And to the battle on their sculptured shields 
 Bring adverse Gods ; the fierce Typhoeus he, 
 Breathing forth flakes of fire ; Hyperbius bears 
 The majesty of Jove securely throned, 
 Grasping his flaming bolt : and who e'er saw 
 The Thund'rer vanquish'd ? In the fellowship 
 Of friendly Gods, the conquerors are with us. 
 They with the conquer'd ; and with like event 
 These warriors shall engage ; as Jove in fight 
 Subdued the fell Typhoeus, so his form 
 Emblazon'd on the shield shall guard Hyper- 
 bius. 
 
 CiioR. If aught of truth my soul inspires, 
 
 This chief, that towering o'er th' affrighted 
 field 
 
 Bears on his sculptured shield 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 
 
 191 
 
 The enormous monster, buried deep 
 Beneath a mountainous heap, 
 Rolling in vain his turbid fires, 
 Monster accursed, abhorr'd 
 By Gods above, by men below ; 
 This chief his head shall bow 
 Low at the gate beneath the victor's sword. 
 Sold. Prophetic be thy hopes. At the north gate, 
 Yet hear me, king, the fifth bold warrior takes 
 His station, near the tomb where honour'd lies 
 Jove-born Amphion*: By his spear he swears. 
 Which, as he grasps, he dares to venerate 
 More than a God, and dearer to his eyes 
 Than the sweet light of heaven : by this he 
 swears. 
 
 To level with the ground the walls of Thebes, 
 Though Jove himself oppose him. Thus exclaims 
 This beauteous branch sprung from a m.ountain 
 nym]>h f , 
 
 Blooming in manly youth ; the tender down 
 Of unripe age scarce sprouting on his cheek ; 
 But ruthless are his thoughts, cruel his eye. 
 And proudly vaunting at the gate he takes 
 His terrible stand. Upon his clashing shield, 
 Whose orb sustains the storm of war, he bears 
 The foul disgrace of Thebes, a rav'nous 
 sphinx J, 
 
 * Amphion, the son of Jupiter and Antiope, having received a 
 lute from Mercury, was so excellent a musician, that according to 
 the fable, by the magic of his playing he brought the stones to- 
 gether with which the tower of Thebes was built. 
 
 f Parthenopaeus was son of Mel eager and Arcadiaii Atalanta. 
 
 1 The story of the Sphinx will be explained in the CEdipus of 
 Sophocles. 
 
192 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Fix'd to the plates ; the burnish'd monster 
 round 
 
 Pours a portentous gleam ; beneath her lies 
 A Theban, mangled by her cruel fangs. 
 'Gainst this let each brave arm direct the spear. 
 No hireling he, to prostitute for gold 
 The war, or shame the length of way he trod, 
 E'en from Arcadia : such this stranger comes 
 Parthenopaevis, and repays to Argos 
 Its hospitable honours, 'gainst these towers 
 Breathing proud menaces. The Gods avert 
 them ! 
 
 Eteo. That ruin, which their fierce aspiring thoughts 
 With impious vaunts intend, may the just Gods 
 Turn on themselves, total defeat, and shame ; 
 So let them perish ! To this proud Arcadian 
 No boaster we oppose ; but one whose hand 
 Knows its rough work, Actor, the valiant bro- 
 ther 
 
 Of him last named. Never will he permit 
 The tongue, without the assay of warlike deeds. 
 To rush within the gates, and execute 
 Its ruinous threats ; nor him, whose hostile 
 shield 
 
 Bears sculptured that abhorr'd and rav'ning 
 beast : 
 
 And many a thund'ring stroke with stern re- 
 buke 
 
 Shall check her proud advances to the walls. 
 Soon shall the fav'ring Gods confirm these 
 hopes. 
 
 Chor. These words appal my throbbing breast : 
 And the light tangles of my braided hair 
 Rise upright with my fear. 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 193 
 
 As from the impious foes around 
 These dreadful voices sound, 
 Furious with thund'ring threats express'd. 
 Ye Powers that rule on high, 
 Scatter their dreaded forces wide, 
 Or let their crested pride 
 Low in the dust beneath our rampires lie ! 
 Sold. The sixth brave chief, that with the golden 
 curb 
 
 Of prudence knows to check his gen'rous va- 
 lour. 
 
 The fate-foretelling seer, Amphiaraus, 
 At the Omolsean gate his destined post 
 Assumes in arms, and on the fiery Tydeus 
 Throws many a keen reproach, reviles him as 
 A homicide, the troubler of the state, 
 The mighty author of all ill to Argos, 
 With murder and the furies at his heels 
 Urging Adrastus to these hateful deeds. 
 Thy brother Polynices, with him leagued 
 In these despiteful acts, he blames aloud, 
 Descants upon his name, and thus rebukes him, 
 " How grateful to the Gods must be this deed, 
 Glorious to hear, and in the roll of fame 
 Shining to distant ages, thus to lead 
 These foreign arms to waste thy bleeding 
 country. 
 
 To raze those princely mansions, where thy 
 fathers. 
 
 Heroes and demigods, once held their seats ! 
 But say thy cause is just, will justice dry 
 Thy mother's tears? And when the furious 
 spear, 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Hurl'd by thy hand, shall pierce thy country's 
 bosom, 
 
 Will she with friendly arms again receive thee ? 
 Prescient of fate I shall enrich this soil, 
 Sunk in the hostile plain. But let us fight. 
 One meed at least is mine : I will not find 
 A vulgar, or dishonourable death." 
 So spoke the prophet ; and with awful port 
 Advanced his massy shield, the shining orb 
 Bearing no impress : for his gen'rous soul 
 Wishes to be, not to appear, the best ; 
 And from the culture of his modest worth 
 Bears the rich fruit of great and glorious deeds. 
 Him let the virtuous and the wise oppose ; 
 For dreadful is the foe that fears the Gods. 
 Eteo. I mourn the destiny, that blends the just 
 With these unhallow'd wretches. Nothing 
 worse 
 
 In any cause, than impious fellowship ; 
 Nothing of good is reap'd, for when the field 
 Is sown with wrong, the ripen'd fruit is death. 
 If with a desperate band, whose hearts are hot 
 With villany, the pious hoist his sails. 
 The vengeance of the Gods bursts on the bark 
 And sinks him with the heav'n-detested crew. 
 If 'midst a race, inhospitably bent 
 On savage deeds, regardless of the Gods, 
 The just man fix his seat, the impending wrath 
 Spares not, but strikes him with vindictive fury, 
 Crush'd in the general ruin. So this seer. 
 Of temper'd wisdom, of unsullied honour, 
 Just, good, and pious, and a mighty prophet. 
 Despite his better judgment join'd in arms 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 195 
 
 With men of impious daring, bent to tread 
 The long, irremeable way, with them 
 Shall, if high Jove assist us, be dragg'd down 
 To joint perdition. Ne'er shall he advance 
 Against our gates, withheld, not by base fear 
 Or cowardice of soul, but that he knows 
 His fate, (if Phoebus aught of truth foretels,) 
 To fall in fight : he loves then to be silent, 
 Since what the time demands he cannot speak. 
 Yet against him the strength of Lasthenes, 
 Who from the stranger's inroad guards our gates. 
 Shall I oppose : in manhood's vig'rous prime 
 He bears the providence of age ; his eye 
 Quick as the lightning's glance ; before his 
 shield 
 
 Flames his protended spear, and longs t' obey 
 His hand. But victory is the gift of Heaven. 
 Chor. That gift, ye great immortal Powers, 
 
 On the brave guardians of our state bestow ; 
 
 On each victorious brow 
 
 The radiant honour bind ! Oh, hear 
 
 A virgin's pious prayer ; 
 
 Chase the proud strangers from our towers ; 
 
 Or headlong let them fall, 
 (Thy red right hand, almighty Sire, 
 Rolling its vengeful fire,) 
 
 In flaming ruin stretch'd beneath our wall ! 
 Sold. The seventh bold chief — Forgive me that I 
 name 
 
 Thy brother, and relate the horrible vows. 
 The imprecations, which his rage pours forth 
 Against high Thebes — burning to mount the 
 walls. 
 
 And from their turrets to this land proclaim, 
 
 o 2 
 
196 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Rending its echoes with the song of war, 
 Captivity : to meet thee sword to sword, 
 Kill thee, then die upon thee : if thou livest, 
 T' avenge on thee his exile and disgrace 
 With the hke treatment : thund'ring vengeance 
 thus, 
 
 The rage of Polynices calls the Gods 
 Presiding o'er his country, to look down 
 And aid his vows. His well-orb'd shield he 
 holds. 
 
 New-wrought, and with a double impress 
 charged : 
 
 A warrior, blazing all in golden arms, 
 A female form of modest aspect leads. 
 Expressing justice, as th' inscription speaks. 
 Yet ONCE more to his country, and once more 
 
 To HIS PATERNAL THRONE, I WILL RESTORE HIM. 
 
 Such their devices. But th' important task, 
 Whom to oppose against his force, is thine. 
 Eteo. How dreadful is the hatred of the Gods ! 
 Unhappy sons of CEdipus, your fate 
 Claims many a tear. Ah me ! my father's curse 
 Now stamps its vengeance deep. But to lament, 
 Or sigh, or shed the tear, becomes me not, 
 Lest more intolerable grief arise. 
 Ill-omen'd name ! * be Polynices told. 
 Soon shall we see how far his blazon'd shield 
 Avails ; how far inscriptions wrought in gold, . 
 With all their futile vauntings, will restore him. 
 If Justice, virgin daughter of high Jove, 
 Had ever form'd his mind, or ruled his ac- 
 tions. 
 
 * The name Polynices signifies " much contention.'* 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 197 
 
 This might have been : but neither when his 
 eyes 
 
 First saw the light of life ; nor in the growth 
 Of infancy ; nor in th' advancing years 
 Of youth ; nor in the riper age, that clothes 
 With gradual down the manly cheek, did Justice 
 E'er deign t' instruct, or mark him for her own. 
 Nor now, I ween, in this his fell intent 
 To crush his country, will her presence aid him : 
 For Justice were not justice, should she favour 
 Th' injurious outrage of his daring spirit. 
 In this confiding I will meet his arms 
 In armed opposition : Who more fit ? 
 Chief shall engage with chief, with brother 
 brother. 
 
 And foe with foe. Haste, arm me for the fight, 
 Bring forth my greaves, my hauberk and my 
 spear. 
 
 Chor. Ah, whither dost thou rush ? Let not re- 
 venge. 
 
 That filled with fury shakes the blood-stained 
 sword. 
 
 Transport thee thus. Check this hot tide of 
 passion. 
 
 Cruel and murd'rous is the rage that fires thee 
 To deeds of death, to unpermitted blood ; 
 And sorrow is the bitter fruit it yields. 
 Eteo. My father's imprecations rage, and haunt 
 My sleep : too true the vivid visions rise. 
 And wave the bloody sword that parts his king- 
 doms. 
 
 His dreadful curse, a stern, relentless fury, 
 Rolling her tearless eyes, looks on and tells me 
 Glory pursues her prize, disdaining fate. 
 
198 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 The first ill deed from Laius sprang : 
 
 Thrice from his shrine these words of fate 
 
 Awful the Pythian Phoebus sang, 
 
 " Die childless, wouldst thou save the 
 state ". 
 
 Urged by his friends, as round the free wine flows, 
 To Love's forbidden rites he flies. 
 By the son's hand the father dies. 
 He in the chaste ground, whence he rose, 
 Was bold t' implant the deadly root * ; 
 And madness rear'd each baleful-spreading shoot. 
 Wide o'er misfortune's surging tide 
 
 Billows succeeding billows spread ; 
 Should one, its fury spent, subside, 
 Another lifts its boist'rous head. 
 And foams around the city's shatter'd prow. 
 But should the rough tempestuous wave 
 Force through our walls, too slight to save. 
 And lay the thin partition low, 
 Will not the flood's resistless sway 
 Sweep kings and people, town and realms away ? 
 The dreadful curse pronounc'd of old 
 To vengeance rouses ruthless hate ; 
 And slaughter, ranging uncontroll'd. 
 Pursues the hideous work of fate, 
 Wreck'd in the storm, the great, the brave, the 
 wise 
 
 Are sunk beneath the roaring tide. 
 Such was the chief, this city's pride, 
 Dear to each God in yon bright skies, 
 
 * This, and what follows, is in allusion to the revolting mis- 
 fortune of (Edipus, whose story the reader will find at large in 
 Sophocles. 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 199 
 
 Whose prudence took our dread away, 
 The rav'ning monster gorged with human prey *. 
 Where now the chief? His glories where ? 
 
 Fall'n, fall'n. From the polluted bed 
 Indignant madness, wild despair, 
 And agonizing grief succeed. 
 The light of heaven, himself, his sons abhorr'd, 
 Darkhng he feeds his gloomy rage. 
 Bids them, with many a curse, engage, 
 And part their empire with the sword. 
 That curse now holds its unmoved state. 
 The furious fiend charged with the work of fate. 
 
 Soldier, Chorus. 
 Sold. Have comfort, virgins, your fond parents' 
 
 joy; 
 
 All at six gates is well : but at the seventh 
 The God, to whom that mystic number 's sa- 
 cred f. 
 
 Royal Apollo, took his awful stand. 
 
 Repaying on the race of CEdipus 
 
 The ill-advised transgression of old Laius. 
 Chor. What new affliction hath befall'n Thebes ? 
 Sold. The city is preserved : the brother kings 
 
 Are fall'n, each slaughter'd by the other's 
 hand, 
 
 * The Sphinx, from which CEdipus delivered Thebes. 
 
 f *E(i'^ofAMyirocs ' A';j'oXkcov. — Hesiod tells us that the seventh 
 is a sacred day, because on that day Latona brought forth Apollo 
 with the golden sword; this mention of the "mystic number" 
 seven, is one of those Pythagorean doctrines alluded to in the 
 chapter on the life and works of ^schylus. Pythagoras is sup- 
 posed to have borrowed it from the Egyptians, who founded their 
 notion of this being the full harinonic number, on some reference 
 to the seven planets known to them. 
 
200 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Chor. Who ? What ? Thy words distract my sense 
 with fear. 
 
 Sold. Be cahn, and hear. The sons of CEdipus — 
 It is indeed too certain — both are dead ; 
 Brother by brother's hands, dreadfully slain. 
 
 Chor. And has one common fate involved them 
 both? 
 
 Sold. To both the rigid steel, forged in the mines 
 Of Scythia, shares their whole inheritance ; 
 And each receives but that small tract of earth, 
 Which serves him for a tomb ; their father's 
 curse, 
 
 Fatally cruel, sweeps them both away. 
 The city is preserved ; but the dust drinks 
 The brothers' blood, each by th' other slain. 
 
 The Chorus, scarcely pausing to thank the Gods 
 for their deliverance of the state, then bewails the 
 hapless fate of the two brothers, slain, as they deem, 
 by their father's curse. Amid their lamentations 
 the dead bodies of Eteocles and Polynices are borne 
 in upon the stage, and with them come Antigone 
 and Ismene, sisters of the dead princes. The Chorus 
 then divides into hemichoria, and they sing a long 
 and varied funeral hymn for the departed, in al- 
 ternate strains, which after some time is taken up 
 and concluded by Ismene and Antigone in their 
 stead. Meanwhile a herald enters, and the following 
 scene ensues : — 
 
 Antigone, Chorus, Herald. 
 
 Her. My office leads me to proclaim the mandate 
 Of the great rulers of the Theban state. 
 Eteocles, for that he loved his country, 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 201 
 
 They have decreed with honour to inter. 
 To shield her from her foes he fought, he fell, 
 Her sacred rites revered, unstain'd with blame, 
 Where glory calls the valiant youth to bleed, 
 He bled. Thus far of him it is decreed. 
 Of Polynices, that his corpse shall lie 
 Cast out unburied, to the dogs a prey ; 
 Because his spear, had not the Gods opposed, 
 Threaten'd destruction to the land of Thebes. 
 In death the vengeance of his country's Gods 
 Pursues him, for he scorn'd them, and presumed 
 To lead a foreign host, and storm the town. 
 Be this then his reward, to lie exposed 
 To rav'nous birds, unhonour'd, of the rites * 
 
 * Denial of the rites of sepulture was considered by the ancients 
 as the greatest of all calamities, even more deplorable than death 
 itself ; as we have abundant testimony both in sacred and profane 
 history. Bishop Warburton ascribes the prevalence of this opinion 
 to the judicious policy of the Egyptians. "Those profound mas- 
 ters of wisdom he observes, " in projecting for the common 
 good, found nothing would more contribute to the safety of their 
 fellow-citizens than the pubhc and solemn interment of the dead ; 
 as without this provision private m.urders might be easily and se- 
 curely perpetrated. They therefore introduced the custom of 
 pompous funeral rites : to secure these by the force of rehgion, as 
 well as civil custom, they taught that the deceased could not retire 
 to a place of rest till they were performed." Div. Leg. Vol. I. 
 The habit of considering the loss of burial among the worst of 
 human miseries, seems however to have had a much higher ori- 
 gin than even the wisdom of the Egyptians, unless we should 
 imagine Moses to have borrowed it thence. In the XXVIIIth 
 chapter of the book of Deuteronomy, we find him enumerating to 
 the Israelites among the curses that should follow disobedience, 
 " The Lord shall cause thee to be smitten before thine enemies, 
 and thy carcass shall be meat unto all the fowls of the air, and 
 unto the beasts of the earth, and no man shall fray them away." 
 The important influence of this belief among the Greeks is also 
 
202 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 That grace the dead, libations at the tomb, 
 The solemn strain that 'midst the exequies 
 Breathes from the friendly voice of woe, de- 
 prived. 
 
 These are the mandates of the Theban rulers. 
 
 Ant. And to these Theban rulers I declare, 
 If none besides dare bury him, myself 
 Will do that office, heedless of the danger, 
 And think no shame to disobey the state, 
 Paying the last sad duties to a brother. 
 I, though a woman, will prepare his tomb, 
 Dig up the earth, and bear it in this bosom, 
 In these fine folds, to cover him. Go to : 
 I will not be opposed. A sister's love 
 Shall devise means to execute the task. 
 
 Her. I charge thee not t' offend the state in this. 
 
 Ant. I charge thee waste not words on me in vain. 
 
 Her. Self-will'd and rash ! I bear thy answer back. 
 
 Antigone, Chorus. 
 
 1st. Semi. With what a ruthless and destructive rage 
 The Furies hurl their vengeful shafts around, 
 And desolate the house of CEdipus ! 
 What then remains for me ? and how resolve ? 
 Can I forbear to mourn thee, to attend 
 Thy obsequies ? Yet duty to the state, 
 
 apparent both in the " Suppliants " of Euripides, the plot of 
 which hinges on this circumstance, and in the Ajax of Sopho- 
 cles, the last act of which, as Wakefield has observed, is extend- 
 ed after the death of the hero, purely to satisfy the audience that 
 he obtained the honours of burial, and the whole of the distress 
 turns upon this very point. The same observation applies to 
 the last book of the Iliad^ and furnishes the justification of the poet 
 for extending the action beyond the death of Hector. 
 
THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 20S 
 
 And reverence to its mandates, awe my soul. 
 Thou * shalt have many to lament thy fall : 
 Whilst he f, unwept, unpitied, unattended. 
 Save by a sister's solitary sorrows, 
 Sinks to the shades. Approve you this resolve? 
 Semi. To those that wail the fate of Polynices 
 Let the state act its pleasure. We will go. 
 Attend his funeral rites, and aid his sister 
 To place him in the earth. Such sorrows move 
 The common feelings of humanity ; 
 And, where the deed is just, the state approves. 
 
 * Eteocles. f Polynices. 
 
 END OF THE SEVEN CHIEFS AGAINST THEBES. 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED. 
 
 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 PROMETHEUS. 
 
 OCEANUS. 
 
 MERCURY. 
 
 CHORUS OF SEA-NYMPHS. 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF iESCHYLUS. 207 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 According to the Theogony of Hesiod, Chaos was 
 the ancestor of nature. Next to him were Ouranos 
 and Gaia, or Heaven and Earth. Among the nu- 
 merous progeny of this ancient pair were Oceanus 
 and lapetus. Oceanus married Tethys, who bore 
 to him the Oceanides, or Sea-nymphs, of whom la- 
 petus married one, named Clymene. She gave birth 
 to Atlas, Epimetheus, and Prometheus. iEschylus 
 wrote three plays on the story of the latter. The 
 subject of the first was the stealing of the celestial 
 spark, and carrying back to mortals the sacred gift 
 of fire, of which J upiter had in his wrath deprived 
 them. The second contains his punishment ; and 
 in the third he is rescued by Hercules, who killed 
 the vulture set to prey upon his liver, and delivered 
 him from bondage. Of these tragedies, the second 
 only remains : it opens with the allegorical person- 
 ages Strength and Force, sons of Styx and the giant 
 Pallas, traversing the pathless wilds of Scythia with 
 Prometheus in custody, whom they drag up the wild 
 and desolate cliff of Caucasus, and compel Vulcan 
 to gibbet him there, according to the command of 
 Jove, to wither in the wind and sun, undying, for 
 the space of thirty thousand years. 
 
 Even Mulciber is moved to pity, and deplores the 
 victim's misery while he rivets his chains, but Strength 
 remains inexorable, and taunts the sufferer with the 
 
208 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 bitterest reproaches and derision, while he urges on 
 the work. At length, when every fetter is securely 
 ri vetted, they depart, and Prometheus, who had 
 hitherto observed a disdainful silence, now bursts 
 forth into the following indignant soliloquy: 
 
 Prometheus, alone. 
 
 Ethereal air, and ye swift-winged winds ! 
 Ye rivers springing from fresh founts, ye waves, 
 That o'er the interminable ocean wreathe 
 Your crisped smiles, thou all-producing earth, 
 And thee, bright sun, I call, whose flaming orb 
 Views the wide world beneath, see what, a god, 
 I suffer from the gods ; with what fierce pains, 
 Behold, what tortures for revolving ages 
 I here must struggle ; such unseemly chains 
 This new-raised ruler of the gods devised. 
 Ah me ! That groan bursts from my anguish'd 
 heart. 
 
 My present woes and future to bemoan. 
 When shall these suff 'rings find their destined 
 end ? 
 
 But why that vain inquiry ? My clear sight 
 Looks through the future ; unforeseen no ill 
 Shall come on me : behoves me then to bear 
 Patient my destined fate, knowing how vain 
 To struggle with necessity's strong power. 
 But to complain, or not complain, alike 
 Is unavailing ; since for favours shown 
 To mortal man I bear this weight of woe. 
 Hid in a hollow cane the fount of fire 
 I privately convey'd, of ev'ry art 
 Productive, and the noblest gift to men : 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF .ESCHYLUS. 209 
 
 And for this slight offence, woe, woe is me ! 
 I bear these chains, fix'd to this savage rock, 
 Unsheltered from the sharp, inclement air. 
 Ah me ! what sound, what softly-breathing 
 odour 
 
 Steals on my sense ? Be you divinities. 
 Or mortal men, or of th' heroic race. 
 Whoe'er have reach'd this wild rock's extreme 
 cliff, 
 
 Spectators of my woes, or what your purpose, 
 Ye see me bound, a wretched god, abhorr'd 
 By Jove, and ev'ry god that treads his courts, 
 For my fond love to man. Ah me ! again 
 I hear the sound of flutt'ring nigh ; the air 
 Pants to the soft beat of light-moving wings : 
 All, that approaches now, is dreadful to me. 
 
 Prometheus, Chorus. 
 
 Chor. Forbear thy fears : a friendly train 
 On busy pennons flutt'ring light. 
 We come, our sire not ask'd in vain. 
 And reach this promontory's height. 
 The clanging iron's horrid sound 
 Re-echoed through our caves profound ; 
 And though my cheek glows with shame's crim- 
 son dye. 
 
 Thus with unsandall'd foot* with winged speed 
 I fly. 
 
 * The nymphs of the waters wore no sandals ; hence Thetis is 
 ^Iways styled by Homer the goddess with the snowy feet. The 
 near relationship of the Oceanides to Prometheus, suggested the 
 propriety of making them the persons of the chorus. They emerge 
 from the sea, over which frowned the rifted crag where Prometheus 
 was impaled. 
 
210 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Prom. Ye virgin sisters, who derive your race 
 From fruitful Thetis, and th' embrace 
 Of old Oceanus, your sire, that rolls 
 Around the wide world his unquiet waves, 
 Turn here your friendly eyes, behold 
 With what a chain fix'd to this rugged steep 
 My tort'ring vigils on the rock I keep. 
 Chor. Alas ! I see, and weep in vain, 
 
 I see thy adamantine chain ; 
 
 In its strong grasp thy limbs confined. 
 
 And parching in the withering wind : 
 Such the stern power of heav'n's new-sceptred 
 
 lord. 
 
 And law-controlling Jove's irrevocable word. 
 Prom. Had his stern fury fix'd this rigid chain 
 Beneath the gulfs of Tartarus, that spread 
 Interminable o'er the dead, 
 Nor gods nor man had triumph'd in my pain ; 
 But, pendent in th' ethereal air. 
 The pageant gratifies my ruthless foes. 
 Who gaze, insult, and glory in my woes. 
 Chor. Is there a god, whose sullen soul 
 Feels a stern joy in thy despair ? 
 Owns he not pity's soft control. 
 And drops in sympathy the tear ? 
 All, all, save Jove ; with fury driven 
 Severe he tames the sons of heaven ; 
 And he will tame them, till some power arise 
 To wrest from his strong hand the sceptre of 
 the skies. 
 Prom. Yet he, e'en he. 
 
 That o'er the gods holds his despotic reign. 
 
 And rivets this disgraceful chain. 
 
 Shall need my aid, the counsels to disclose 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 211 
 
 Destructive to his honour and his throne. 
 
 But not the honied blandishment, that flows 
 
 From his alluring lips, shall aught avail ; 
 
 His rigid menaces shall fail ; 
 
 Nor will I make the fatal secret known. 
 
 Till his proud hands this galling chain unbind. 
 
 And his remorse sooths my indignant mind. 
 
 Chor. But say, relate at large for what offence 
 Committed, doth the wrath of Jove inflict 
 This punishment so shameful, so severe : 
 Instruct us, if the tale sting not thy soul. 
 
 Prom. 'Tis painful to relate it, to be silent 
 Is pain ; each circumstance is full of woe. 
 When stern debate amongst the gods appear'd, 
 And discord in the courts of heaven was roused ; 
 While against Saturn some conspiring will'd 
 To pluck him from the throne, that Jove might 
 reign ; 
 
 And some, averse, with ardent zeal opposed 
 Jove's rising pow'r and empire o'er the gods ; 
 My counsels, though discreetest, wisest, best. 
 Moved not the Titans, those impetuous sons 
 Of Ouranus and Terra, whose high hearts, 
 Disdaining milder measures, proudly ween'd 
 To seize by force the sceptre of the sky. 
 Oft did my goddess mother, Themis now, 
 Now Gaia, under various names design'd, 
 Herself the same, foretell me the event. 
 That not by violence, that not by power, 
 But gentler arts, the royalty of heaven 
 Must be obtain'd. Whilst thus my voice advised, 
 Their headlong rage deign'd me not e'en a look« 
 What then could wisdom dictate, but t' obey 
 My mother, and with voluntary aid 
 
 p % 
 
212 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Abet the cause of Jove ? Thus by my counsels 
 In the dark deep Tartarean gulph inclosed 
 Old Saturn lies, and his confederate powers. 
 For these good deeds the tyrant of the skies 
 Repays me with these dreadful punishments. 
 For foul mistrust of those that serve them best 
 Breathes its black poison in each tyrant's heart. 
 Ask you the cause for which he tortures me ? 
 I will declare it. On his father's throne 
 Scarce was he seated, when upon the chiefs 
 Of heaven he show'r'd down honours, to con- 
 firm 
 
 His royalty ; but for unhappy mortals 
 Had no regard, and all the present race 
 Will'd to extirpate, and to form anew. 
 None, save myself, opposed his will ; I dared ; 
 And boldly pleading saved them from destruc- 
 tion, 
 
 Saved them from sinking to the realms of night. 
 For this offence I bend beneath these pains, 
 Dreadful to suffer, piteous to behold : 
 For mercy to mankind I am not deem'd 
 Worthy of mercy ; but with ruthless hate 
 In this uncouth appointment am fix'd here. 
 Chor. Of iron is he form'd and adamant, 
 
 Whose breast with social sorrow does not melt 
 At thy afflictions : I nor wish'd to see. 
 Nor can behold them without heartfelt an- 
 guish. 
 
 But had the offence no further aggravation ? 
 PiioM. I hid from men the foresight of their fate. 
 CiioR. What couldst thou find to remedy that ill ? 
 Prom. I sent blind Hope to live within their hearts. 
 CiioR. A blessing hast thou given to mortal man. 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF ^SCHYLUS. 21 ^ 
 
 jPrOm. Nay more, with generous zeal I gave them 
 Fh-e. 
 
 Chor. Do mortals now enjoy the blazing gift ? 
 Prom. And by it shall give birth to various arts. 
 Chor. For such offences doth the wrath of Jove 
 
 Thus punish thee, relaxing nought of pain ? 
 
 And is no bound prescribed to thy affliction ? 
 Prom. None else, but when his own will shall in- 
 cline. 
 
 Chor. Who shall incline his will? Hast thou no 
 hope ? 
 
 Bethink thee how thy ills may find an end. 
 
 Prom. How easy, when the foot is not entangled 
 In misery's thorny maze, to give advice 
 And precepts to the afflicted ! Of these ills 
 I was not unforewarned. But cease your grief, 
 Wail not my present woes ; on the rough point 
 Of this firm cliff descend, and there observe 
 What further may betide me, e'en the whole 
 Of my hard fate ; indulge me, O indulge 
 This my request, and sympathize with me. 
 
 Chor. Not to the unwilling are thy words addressed. 
 With light foot now this nimbly-moving seat. 
 This pure air, through whose liquid fields the 
 birds 
 
 Winnow their wanton way, I leave ; and now 
 Alight I on this rude and craggy rock. 
 Anxious to hear all thy unhappy tale. 
 
 Enter Oceanus, riding on a hippogrifl', 
 
 OcEANus, Prometheus, Chorus. 
 
 OcEA. Far distant, through the vast expanse of air, 
 To thee, Prometheus, on this swift- wing'd steed^ 
 
214 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Whose neck unrein'd obeys my will, I comcj 
 In social sorrow sympathizing with thee. 
 To this the near affinity of blood 
 Moves me ; and be assured, that tie apart, 
 There is not who can tax my dear regard 
 Deeper than thou : believe me this is truth, 
 Not the false glozings of a flatt'ring tongue. 
 Instruct me then how I may aid thy cause, 
 For never shalt thou say thou hast a friend 
 More firm, more constant than Oceanus. 
 Prom. Ah me ! What draws thee hither ? Art thou 
 come 
 
 Spectator of my toils ? How hast thou ventured 
 To leave the ocean waves, from thee so call'd, 
 Thy rock-roof'd grottoes arch'd by nature's 
 hand. 
 
 And land upon this iron-teeming earth ? 
 Comest thou to visit and bewail my ills ? 
 Behold this sight, behold this friend of Jove, 
 The assertor of his empire, bending here 
 Beneath a weight of woes by him inflicted. 
 OcEA. I see it all, and wish to counsel thee. 
 
 Wise as thou art, to milder measures : learn 
 To know thyself ; new model thy behaviour, 
 As the new monarch of the gods requires. 
 What if thy harsh and pointed speech should 
 reach 
 
 The ear of Jove, though on his distant throne 
 High-seated, might they not inflame his rage 
 To inflict such tortures, that thy present pains 
 Might seem a recreation and a sport ? 
 But now I go, and will exert my power, 
 If haply I may free thee from thy pains. 
 Meanwhile be calm ; forbear this haughty tone : 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF iESCHYLUS. 215 
 
 Has not thy copious wisdom taught thee this, 
 That mischief still attends the petulant tongue ? 
 Prom. Congratulate thy fortune, that on thee 
 
 No blame hath lighted, though associate with me 
 In all, and daring equally. But now 
 Forbear, of my condition take no care ; 
 Thou wilt not move him ; nothing moves his 
 rigour : 
 
 Take heed then, lest to go bring harm on thee. 
 OcEA. Wiser for others than thyself I find 
 
 Thy thoughts ; yet shalt thou not withhold my 
 speed. 
 
 And I have hopes to free thee from these tor- 
 tures. 
 
 Prom. For this thou hast my thanks ; thy courtesy 
 With grateful memory ever shall be honour'd. 
 But think not of it, the attempt were vain. 
 Nor would thy labour profit me ; cease then, 
 And leave me to my fate : however wretched, 
 I wish not to impart my woes to others. 
 
 OcEA. No ; for thy brother's fate, the unhappy Atlas, 
 Afflicts me : on the western shore he stands, 
 Supporting on his shoulders the vast pillar 
 Of heaven and earth, a weight of cumbrous 
 grasp. 
 
 Him too, the dweller of Cilicia's caves, 
 I saw, with pity saw. Earth's monstrous son. 
 With all his hundred heads subdued by Force, 
 The furious Typhon, who 'gainst all the gods 
 Made war ; his horrid jaws with serpent-hiss 
 Breathed slaughter, from his eyes the Gorgon 
 glare 
 
 Of baleful lightnings flash'd, as his proud 
 force 
 
216 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Would rend from Jove his empire of the 
 sky. 
 
 But him the vengeful bolt, instinct with fire, 
 Smote sore, and dash'd him from his haughty 
 vaunts, 
 
 Pierced through his soul, and wither'd all his 
 strength. 
 
 Thus stretch'd out huge in length beneath the 
 roots 
 
 Of ^tna, near Trinacria's narrow sea, 
 Astonied, blasted, spiritless he lies ; 
 On whose high summit Vulcan holds his seat, 
 And forms the glowing mass. In times to 
 come 
 
 Hence streams of torrent-fire with hideous 
 roar 
 
 Shall burst, and with its wasteful mouths de- 
 vour 
 
 All the fair fields of fruitful Sicily. 
 Such rage shall Typhon, blasted as he is 
 With Jove's fierce lightning, pour incessant 
 forth 
 
 In smoking whirlwinds and tempestuous flame. 
 Prom. Thou art not inexperienced, nor hast need 
 Of my instruction ; save thyself, how best 
 Thy wisdom shall direct thee. I will bear 
 My present fate, till Jove's harsh wrath re- 
 lents. 
 
 OcEA. Thy misery shall be my monitor. 
 Prom. Go then, be cautious, hold thy present judge- 
 ment. 
 
 OcEA. Thy words add speed to my despatch. Long 
 since 
 
 My plumed steed his levell'd wings displays 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
 217 
 
 To fan the liquid air, through fond desire 
 In his own lodge his wearied speed to rest. 
 
 ExiL 
 
 Prometheus, Chorus. 
 
 Chor. For thee I heave the heart-felt sigh, 
 
 My bosom melting at thy woes ; 
 For thee my tear- distilling eye 
 
 In streams of tender sorrow flows : 
 For Jove's imperious ruthless soul, 
 That scorns the power of mild control, 
 Chastens with horrid tort'ring pain 
 Not known to gods before his iron reign. 
 E'en yet this ample region o'er 
 
 Hoarse strains of sullen woe resound, 
 Thy state, thy brothers'* state deplore, 
 
 Age-honoured glories ruined round. 
 Thy woes, beneath the sacred shade 
 Of Asia's pastur'd forests laid. 
 The chaste inhabitant bewails 
 Thy groans re-echoing through his plaintive 
 vales. 
 
 The Colchian virgin, whose bold hand 
 
 Undaunted grasps the warlike spear ; 
 On earth's last verge the Scythian band, 
 
 The torpid lake Maeotis near ; 
 Arabia's martial race, that wield 
 The sharp lance in th' embattled field, 
 Through all their rock-built cities moan. 
 The crags of Caucasus return the groan. 
 One other, ere thy galling chain, 
 
 Of heaven's high sons with tortures quell'd, 
 
 * Prometheus had two brothers suffering under the extremity 
 of Jove's vengeance, Menoetius cast into Tartarus, and Atlas, con- 
 demned to bear the heavens on his shoulders. 
 
218 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 That rack each joint, each sinew strain, 
 
 Titanian Atlas I beheld ; 
 His giant strength condemn'd to bear 
 The solid, vast, and pond'rous sphere. 
 The springs whose fresh streams swell 
 around, 
 
 The hoarse waves from their depths pro- 
 found, 
 
 And all the gloomy realms below. 
 Sigh to his sighs, and murmur to his woe. 
 Prom. It is not pride ; deem nobler of me, virgins ; 
 It is not pride, that held me silent thus ; 
 The thought of these harsh chains, that hang 
 me here, 
 
 Cuts to my heart. Yet who, as I, advanced 
 To their high dignity our new raised gods ? 
 But let me spare the tale, to you well known. 
 The ills of man you 've heard. I formed his 
 mind. 
 
 And through the cloud of barb'rous ignorance 
 Diffused the beams of knowledge. I will 
 speak. 
 
 Not taxing them with blame, but my own 
 gifts 
 
 Displaying, and benevolence to them. 
 They saw indeed, they heard ; but what avail'd 
 Sight, or the sense of hearing ? all things rolled 
 Like the unreal imagery of dreams. 
 In wild confusion mix'd. The lightsome wall 
 Of finer masonry, the rafter'd roof 
 They knew not ; but, like ants still buried, 
 delved 
 
 Deep in the earth, and scoop'd their sunless 
 caves. 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF ^SCHYLUS. 219 
 
 Unmark'd the seasons changed, stern Whiter 
 passed, 
 
 Flower-perfumed Spring, ripe Summer, mellow 
 Autumn, 
 
 Unheededly away. Chance ruled their works, 
 Till I instructed them to mark the stars. 
 Their rising, and, a harder science yet, 
 Their setting. The rich train of marshall'd 
 numbers 
 
 I taught them, and the meet array of letters. 
 To impress these precepts on their hearts I 
 sent 
 
 Memory, the active mother of all wisdom. 
 I taught the patient steer to bear the yoke. 
 In all his toils joint-labourer with man. 
 By me the harness'd steed was train'd to whirl 
 The rapid car, and grace the pride of wealth. 
 The tall bark, lightly bounding o'er the waves, 
 I taught its course, and wing'd its flying sail. 
 To man I gave these arts ; yet want I now 
 With all my wisdom that one useful art 
 To free myself from these afflicting chains. 
 Chor. Unseemly are thy sufferings, sprung from 
 error 
 
 And impotence of mind. And now inclosed 
 With all these ills, as some unskilful leach 
 That sinks beneath his malady, thy soul 
 Desponds, nor seeks medicinal relief. 
 Prom. Hear my whole story, thou wilt wonder more, 
 What useful arts, what science I invented. 
 This first and greatest : when the fell disease 
 Preyed on the human frame, relief was none. 
 Nor healing drug, nor cool refreshing draught, 
 Nor pain assuaging unguent ; but they pined 
 
220 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Without redress, and wasted, till I taught 
 To mix the balmy medicine, full of power 
 To chase each pale disease, and soften pain. 
 I taught the various modes of prophecy. 
 What truth the dream portends, the omen what> 
 Of nice distinction, what the casual sight 
 That meets us on the way ; the flight of birds, 
 When to the right, when to the left they take 
 Their airy course, their various ways of life. 
 Their feuds, their fondnesses, their social 
 flocks. 
 
 I taught the haruspex to inspect the entrails. 
 Their smoothness, and their colour to the gods 
 Grateful, the gall, the liver streak'd with veins. 
 The limbs involved in fat, and the long chine 
 Placed on the blazing altar ; from the smoke 
 And mounting flame to mark th' unerring omen. 
 These arts I taught. And all the secret wealth 
 Deep buried in the bowels of the earth, 
 Brass, iron, silver, gold, their use to man, 
 Let the vain tongue make what high vaunts it 
 may, 
 
 Are my inventions all ; and, in a word, 
 Prometheus taught each useful art to man. 
 Chor. Let not thy love to man o'erleap the bounds 
 Of reason, nor neglect thy wretched state : 
 So my fond hope suggests thou shalt be free 
 From these base chains, nor less in power than 
 Jove. 
 
 Prom. Not thus, it is not in the Fates that thus 
 
 These things should end : crush'd with a thou- 
 sand wrongs, 
 A thousand woes, I shall escape these chains. 
 Necessity is stronger far than art. 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF ^SCHYLUS. 221 
 
 Chor. Who then is ruler of necessity ? 
 
 Prom. The triple Fates and unforgetting Furies. 
 
 Chor. Must Jove then yield to their superior power ? 
 
 Prom. No more of this discourse ; it is not time 
 Now to disclose that which requires the seal 
 Of strictest secresy ; by guarding which 
 I shall escape the misery of these chains. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Strophe. 
 
 Never, never may my soul 
 Jove's all-ruling power defy ; 
 Never feel his harsh control, 
 Sovereign ruler of the sky. 
 When the hallow 'd steer has bled 
 When the sacred feast is spread, 
 'Midst the crystal waves below. 
 Whence father Ocean's boundless billows 
 flow, 
 
 Let not my foot be slow : 
 There, th' ethereal guests among, 
 No rude speech disgrace my tongue ; 
 May my mind this rev'rence keep ; 
 Print it strong, and grave it deep. 
 
 Antistrophe. 
 
 When through life's extended scene 
 Hope her stedfast lustre throws, 
 Swells the soul with joy serene. 
 With sublimest triumph glows. 
 
 * The Chorus here alludes to the solemn annual festival which 
 the gods held with Oceanus, father of these nymphs, and at which 
 they shewed their piety and reverence by their attendance and mi- 
 nistry. Pauw. 
 
GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Seest thou this pure lustre shine ? 
 
 Are these heart-felt raptures thine ? 
 
 My cold blood curdles in my veins, 
 
 To see thy hideous woes, thy tort'ring pains, 
 
 And adamantine chains. 
 
 Thy free soul, untaught to fear, 
 
 Scorned the danger, threat'ning near ; 
 
 And for mortals dared defy 
 
 The sovereign monarch of the sky. 
 
 Epode, 
 
 Vain thy ardour, vain thy grace, 
 They nor force nor aid repay ; 
 Like a dream man's feeble race, 
 Short-lived reptiles of a day. 
 Shall their weak devices move 
 Th' order'd harmony of Jove ? 
 Touch'd with pity of thy pain. 
 All sad and slow I pour the moral strain ; 
 Changed from that melting vein. 
 When the light mellifluous measure 
 Round thy bath, and round thy bed 
 For our sea-nymph sister spread, 
 Awoke young love and bridal pleasure, 
 And poured the soul of harmony, 
 To greet the bright Hesione. 
 
 Here the poet introduces lo, daughter of Inachus, 
 whom Jupiter, to conceal from the jealousy of Juno 
 transformed into a heifer; but the goddess disco- 
 vering her disguise, sent Argus to watch her, and 
 one of the furies, in the shape of a winged insect 
 failed a bryze, to hunt her through the world tor- 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF ^SCHYLUS. 22S 
 
 tured by its sting, and in her maddened flight she 
 reaches Caucasus. At the entreaty of the Chorus 
 she tells her tale to them and to Prometheus, of 
 whose kindred she was, as Inachus, her father, was 
 the son of Oceanus and Tethys. The Titan's son 
 takes occasion to rail at large on the cruelty and ty- 
 ranny of Jove, while he foretells all her future wan- 
 derings and misfortunes. In her peregrinations she 
 is to visit, in the eastern regions of Scythia, three 
 old hags, daughters of Phorcys, whose story will 
 remind the reader of an Arabian tale. 
 
 One common eye have these, one common 
 tooth, 
 
 And never does the sun with cheerful ray 
 Visit them darkling, nor the moon's pale orb 
 That silvers o'er the night. The Gorgons 
 nigh, 
 
 Their sisters these, spread their broad wings, 
 
 and wreathe 
 Their horrid hair with serpents, fiends ab- 
 
 horr'd, 
 
 Whom never mortal could behold, and live. 
 
 He prophesies that lo shall cross the Maeotic 
 strait, which thence is to be called the Bosphorus, 
 or passage of the heifer, as the /onian sea should 
 also be so named from her. Finally, he describes 
 her numerous descendants and their various exploits, 
 not the least of which is, that one, (Hercules,) 
 
 " Third of her race, first numb'ring ten descents," 
 
 should release him from his pains, sent by the will 
 of Jove, when he learns that an ill-starred and fatal 
 
224 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 marriage is impending over him, unless he be fore- 
 warned by Prometheus how to avert the calamity. 
 
 Then follows an ode of the Chorus, suggested by 
 the tale of lo, on the miseries of ill-matched or am- 
 bitious love, and the impossibility of resisting the 
 will of Jupiter, upon which Prometheus thus re- 
 sumes : 
 
 Prom. Yet shall this Jove, with all his self-will'd 
 pride. 
 
 Learn humbler thoughts, taught by that fatal 
 marriage. 
 
 Which from the lofty throne of sovereign rule 
 Shall sink him to a low and abject state, 
 And on his head fulfil his father's curse, 
 The curse of Saturn, vented in that hour, 
 When from his ancient royalty he fell. 
 Of all the gods not one, myself except. 
 Can warn him of his fate, and how to shun 
 Th' impending ruin. I know all, and how. 
 Let him then sit, and glorying in his height 
 Roll with his red right hand his volley'd thunder 
 Falsely secure, and wreathe his bick'ring flames= 
 Yet nought shall they avail him, nor prevent 
 His abject and dishonourable fall. 
 Such rival adversary forms he now 
 Against himself, prodigious in his might. 
 And unassailable ; whose rage shall roll 
 Flames that surpass his lightnings, fiercer bolts 
 That quash his thunders ; and from Neptune's 
 hand 
 
 Dash his trined mace, that from the bottom 
 stirs 
 
 The troubled sea, and shakes tlie solid earth. 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF iESCHYLUS. 225 
 
 Crush'd with this dreadful ruin shall he learn 
 How different to command and to obey. 
 Chor. Thy ominous tongue gives utterance to thy 
 wish. 
 
 Prom. It is my wish, and shall be ratified. 
 Chor. Dost thou not fear, vaunting this bold de- 
 sire ? 
 
 Prom. What should I fear, by Fate exempt from 
 death ? 
 
 Chor. But he may add fresh tortures to thy pain. 
 Prom. Let him then add ; I wait and scorn them all. 
 Chor. Wise they, who reverence the stern power of 
 vengeance. 
 
 PROdvr. Go then, with prompt servility fall down 
 
 Before your lord, fawn, cringe, and sue for 
 grace. 
 
 For me, I value him at less than nothing. 
 Let him exert his brief authority, 
 And lord it whilst he may ; his power in 
 heaven 
 
 Shall vanish soon, nor leave a trace behind. — 
 But see, his m.essenger hastes on amain, 
 The obsequious lackey of this new-made mo- 
 narch : 
 
 He comes, I ween, the bearer of fresh tidings. 
 
 Mercury, Prometheus, Chorus. 
 
 Merc. To thee, grown old in craft, deep drench'd 
 in gall. 
 
 Disgustful to the gods, too prodigal 
 Of interdicted gifts to mortal man. 
 Thief of the fire of heaven, to thee my mes- 
 sage. 
 
 My father bids thee say what nuptials these 
 
226 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Thy tongue thus vaunts as threat'ning his high 
 power ; 
 
 And clearly say, couch'd in no riddling phrase, 
 Each several circumstance ; propound not 
 then 
 
 Ambiguous terms, Prometheus ; for thou seest 
 Jove brooks not such, unfit to win his favour. 
 Prom. Thou doest thy message proudly, in high 
 terms. 
 
 Becoming well the servant of such lords. 
 Your youthful power is new ; ye vainly deem 
 Your high raised towers impregnable to pain. 
 Have I not seen two sovereigns of the sky * 
 Sink from their glorious state ? And I shall 
 see 
 
 A third, this present lord, with sudden ruin 
 Dishonourably fall. What, seem I now 
 To dread, to tremble at these new-raised gods ? 
 That never shall their force extort from me. 
 Hence then, the way thou camest return with 
 speed : 
 
 Thy vain inquiries get no other answer. 
 
 Merc Such insolence before, so fiery fierce, 
 
 Drew on thy head this dreadful piuiishment. 
 
 Prom. My miseries, be assin-ed, I would not change 
 For thy gay servitude, but rather choose 
 To live a vassal to this dreary rock. 
 Than lackey the proud heels of Jove. These 
 words. 
 
 If insolent, your insolence extorts. 
 Merc. Truly Jiou seem'st delighted with thy woes. 
 
 * Ouranus dethroned by his son Saturn, and Saturn again by 
 his son Jupiter. 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF iESCHYLUS. 227 
 
 Prom. Delighted ! Might I see mine enemies 
 
 Delighted thus ! And thee I hold among them. 
 
 Merc. And why blame me for thy calamities ? 
 
 Prom. To tell thee in a word, I hate them all. 
 
 These gods ; well 1 deserved of them, and 
 they 
 
 Ungrateful and unjust, w^ork me these ills. 
 Merc. Thy malady, I find, is utter madness. 
 Prom. If to detest my enemies be madness. 
 
 It is a malady I wish to have. 
 Merc. Were it well with thee, who could brook thy 
 pride ? 
 
 Prom. Time, as its age advanceth, teaches all things. 
 Merc. All its advances have not taught thee wisdom. 
 Prom. True, else I should not thus waste words on 
 thee. 
 
 Merc. Why am I check'd, why rated as a boy ? 
 
 Prom. A boy ! thou art more simple than a boy, 
 If thou hast hopes to be inform'd by me. 
 Not all his tortures, all his arts shall move me 
 To unlock my lips, till this cursed chain be 
 loosed. 
 
 No, let him hurl his flaming lightnings, wing 
 His w^hitening snows, and with his thunders 
 shake 
 
 The rocking earth, they move not me to say 
 What force shall wrest the sceptre from his 
 hand *. 
 
 * Jupiter was in love with Thetis, daughter of Oceanus. 
 It was in the fates, though known to Prometheus alone, that the 
 son of Thetis should be greater than his father. This is the se- 
 cret disclosed by him on his release. Thetis was given to Peleus, 
 and the prophecy fulfilled in Achilles. 
 
228 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Merc. Weigh these things well, will these unloose 
 thy chains ? 
 
 Prom. Well have they long been weigh'd, and well 
 consider'd. 
 
 Merc. Subdue, vain fool, subdue thy insolence, 
 
 And let thy miseries teach theejuster thoughts. 
 
 Prom. Thy counsels, like the waves that dash against 
 The rock's firm base, disquiet but not move 
 me. 
 
 Conceive not of me that, through fear what 
 Jove 
 
 May in his rage inflict, my fix'd disdain 
 Shall e'er relent, e'er suffer my firm mind 
 To sink to womanish softness, to fall prostrate, 
 To stretch my supplicating hands, entreating 
 My hated foe to free me from these chains. 
 Far be that shame, that abject weakness from 
 me. 
 
 Merc. I see thou art implacable, unsoften'd 
 By all the mild entreaties I can urge ; 
 But like a young steed rein'd, that proudly 
 struggles. 
 
 And champs his iron curb, thy haughty soul 
 Abates not of its unavailing fierceness. 
 But pride, disdaining to be ruled by rea^n, 
 Sinks weak and valueless. Now mark me well, 
 If not obedient to my words, a storm, 
 A fiery and inevitable deluge 
 Shall burst in threefold vengeance on thy head. 
 First, his fierce thunder wing'd with lightning 
 flames 
 
 Shall rend this rugged rock, and cover thee 
 With hideous ruin : long time slialt thou lie 
 Astonied in its rifted sides, till dragg'd 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF ^SCHYLUS. 229 
 
 Again to light ; then shall the bird of Jove, 
 The rav'ning eagle, lured with scent of blood. 
 Mangle thy body, and each day returning, 
 An uninvited guest, plunge his fell beak, 
 And feast and riot on thy black'ning liver. 
 Expect no pause, no respite, till some god 
 Comes to relieve thy pains, willing to pass 
 The dreary realms of ever-during night, 
 The dark descent of Tartarus profound. 
 Weigh these things well : this is no fiction drest 
 In vaunting terms, but words of serious truth. 
 The mouth of Jove knows not to utter false- 
 hood. 
 
 But what he speaks is fate. Be cautious then, 
 Regard thyself ; let not o'erweening pride 
 Despise the friendly voice of prudent counsel. 
 Chor. Nothing amiss we deem his words, but 
 fraught 
 
 With reason, who but wills thee to relax 
 Thy haughty spirit, and by prudent counsels 
 Pursue thy peace : be then advised ; what shame 
 For one so wise to persevere in error ? 
 Prom. All this I knew e'er he declared his mes- 
 sage. 
 
 That enemy from enemy should suffer 
 Extreme indignity, is nothing strange. 
 Let him then v>'ork his horrible pleasure on me ; 
 Wreathe his black curling flames, tempest the 
 air 
 
 With volley'd thunders and wild warring winds, 
 Rend from its roots the firm earth's solid base, 
 Heave from the roaring main its boisterous 
 waves. 
 
 And dash them to the stars ; me let him hurl, 
 
230 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Caught in the fiery tempest, to the gloom 
 Of deepest Tartarus ; not all his power 
 Can quench the ethereal breath of life in me. 
 Merc. Such counsels, such wild vaun tings might you 
 hear, 
 
 From moon-struck madness raving to the 
 winds. 
 
 Were he at ease, would he abate his phrensy ? 
 But you, whose gentle hearts with social sorrow 
 Melt at his suff 'rings, from this place remove, 
 Remove with speed, lest the tempestuous roar 
 Of Jove's fierce thunder strike your souls with 
 horror. 
 
 CiiOR. To other themes, to other counsels turn 
 
 Thy voice, where pleaded reason may prevail : 
 This is ill urged, and may not be admitted. 
 Wouldst thou solicit me to deeds of baseness ? 
 Whate'er betides, with him will I endure it. 
 The vile betrayer I have learn'd to hate ; 
 There is no fouler stain, my soul abhors it. 
 
 Merc. Remember you are warn'd ; if ill betide 
 Accuse not Fortune, lay not blame on Jove, 
 As by his hand sunk in calamities 
 Unthought of, unforeseen : no, let the blame 
 Light on yourselves ; your folly not unwarn'd. 
 Not unawares, but 'gainst your better know- 
 ledge. 
 
 Involved you in the inextricable toils. 
 Prom. He fables not ; I feel in very deed 
 
 The firm earth rock ; the thunder's deep'ning 
 roar 
 
 Rolls with redoubled rage ; the bick'ring flames 
 Flash thick ; the eddying sands are whirled on 
 high; 
 
PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF iESCHYLUS. ^31 
 
 In dreadful opposition the wild winds 
 Rend the vex'd air ; the boist'rous billows rise 
 Confounding sea and sky ; th' impetuous storm 
 Rolls all its terrible fury on my head. 
 Seest thou this, awful Themis ; and thou, Ether, 
 Through whose pure azure floats the general 
 stream 
 
 Of liquid light ? you see what wrongs I suffer ! 
 
 END OF PROMETHEUS CHAINED. 
 
 The Prometheus is perhaps the most exquisite of 
 all the " high imaginings " that remain to us of the 
 genius of ^schylus. There is a moral grandeur 
 that cannot be surpassed in the spectacle of intel- 
 lectual energy defying and triumphing over all the 
 might of nature, exhibited in the most fearful ago- 
 nies of bodily pain. If the end of tragedy be to 
 purify the affections by subduing the senses to the 
 soul, and to teach the calm endurance of misery by 
 a hopeful anticipation of the period when " this 
 tyranny shall be overpast," this drama more ef- 
 fectually attains its end, and more powerfully em- 
 bodies that sublime sentiment, than any other un- 
 inspired composition of antiquity. We must ever 
 bear in mind, however, that all which the most sub- 
 lime-efforts of the Pagan philosophy could teach, was 
 to bear evils with fortitude because they were in- 
 evitable. That hope which is full of immortality " 
 it was incapable of reaching, and it was reserved 
 for revelation to inform us that patient submission 
 
232 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS, 
 
 to the divine will is the discipline appointed by Hea- 
 ven, as the means of forming in us that character 
 and disposition which may fit us for the future en- 
 joyment, through faith, of " a far more exceeding 
 and eternal weight of glory." 
 
 To inspire the people with a hatred of tyranny 
 was probably the more immediate object of the poet, 
 and this was a sentiment which could not fail to be 
 popular as well as patriotic in such a state as 
 Athens, 
 
THE 
 
 PERSIANS- 
 
 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 ATOSSA. 
 MESSENGER. 
 GHOST OF DARIUS. 
 XERXES. 
 
 CHORUS, THE PERSIAN COUNCIL OF 
 STATE. 
 
OF THE 
 
THE PERSIANS OF .ESCHYLUS, 
 
 235 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The subject of this play has been already noticed 
 in the life of iEscliylus. The Persians had been 
 wholly defeated at Marathon by most dispropor- 
 tionate numbers. To wipe off this disgrace, Xerxes 
 invaded Greece in person, at the head of an amazing 
 armament, with which he meant to overwhelm all 
 resistance. The first check he received in his ca- 
 reer was at the famous pass of Thermopylae, where 
 Leonidas, at the head of a small Greek force, suc- 
 cessfully resisted his efforts to penetrate the defile, 
 for three successive days, till he was betrayed by 
 the perfidy of Ephialtes, a Trachinian, who led a 
 detachment of the Persians by a secret path up the 
 western ridge of mountains, from which they fell 
 upon the rear of Leonidas, and cut to pieces his 
 little band, now reduced to 300 Spartans and a 
 small body of Thespians. Not a man survived. 
 Having thus forced the pass of Thermopyl^, Xerxes 
 w^asted Attica and set fire to Athens, which had 
 been deserted at his approach. The Greeks retired 
 into Troezene and Salamis. But their leaders, un- 
 der the comm.and of Eurybiades, were reluctant to 
 engage in a conflict in which, from the overwhelm- 
 ing force of the enemy, they anticipated only defeat. 
 During this indecision, Themistocles, fearful of the 
 defection of some of the squadrons, and eager to 
 prevent the voluntary dispersion of the Grecian 
 
^36 
 
 INTRODtJCTION TO 
 
 powers, resolved upon a very extraordinary mea- 
 sure. He secretly sent a trusty messenger to the 
 Persian fleet, with certain intelligence of the dis- 
 sensions that prevailed among the allied chiefs, and 
 apprising the Asiatic admiral that if the present op- 
 portunity of destroying the Greek navy were ne- 
 glected, such another might never again occur. 
 That very night, in consequence of this intelligence, 
 the Persian fleet formed in a crescent, stretching 
 from the point of Salamis to the port of Munychia : 
 the Egyptian squadron was detached to block up the 
 western passage, a force was landed upon the little 
 island Psyttaleia to aid such Persian vessels as might 
 be driven upon it, and infest those of Greece, and 
 the Attic shore was lined with troops to co-operate 
 with the naval forces. By day-break (it was the 
 20th Oct. B.C. 480.), the whole armament was in 
 motion : as the sun rose, trumpets sounded, paeans 
 were sung, and the Grecian leaders, forced by ne- 
 cessity to exertion, used every effort to excite 
 among their forces that courage and animation which 
 their timid and divided counsels hitherto had so 
 tended to repress. A trireme returning from JEgina, 
 and shut out from her companions by the enemy's 
 line, endeavoured to force a passage ; she was at- 
 tacked, and an Athenian galley, commanded by 
 Ameinias, brother of our poet, advanced to the 
 rescue. The engagement soon became general and 
 raged with unabated fury, till the combined 
 squadrons of Athens and ^Egina broke through the 
 Persian line, close to the galley which began the 
 fight. Numbers of Persian vessels, not yet called 
 into action, now pressed on to support their coun- 
 trymen, and by their forward zeal contributed rather 
 
THE PERSIANS OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 237 
 
 to disorder than assist them, while the Greeks pre- 
 served the steadiest disciphne, though straining every 
 nerve for victory. Many of the Ionian troops in 
 the service of the Persian secretly favoured the 
 struggles of their countrymen, the confusion be- 
 came general in the vmwieldy armament ; such ves- 
 sels as could disengage themselves before being sunk 
 or taken, escaped by flight, and the sea was scarcely 
 visible through the heaps of wreck and corpses 
 with which it was strewn. Amid the total rout, 
 Aristides, who had returned from exile at Mgina. 
 only the night before, landed a body of Athenians 
 on Psyttaleia, and put the Persians there to the 
 sword, before the eyes of their helpless monarch. 
 
 The surviving Asiatics, deprived of supplies by 
 the destruction of their fleet, attempted to re- 
 treat through Boeotia and Thessaly into Thrace ; 
 but they had no victuals. Other sustenance failing, 
 they ate the grass of the field and the bark and 
 leaves from the trees. In the words of Herodotus, 
 
 they left nothing." .Slschylus has added, " none 
 of them was left." Most of those who escaped the 
 ravages of hunger and pestilence perished by the 
 sword. 
 
 Atossa, who makes so prominent a figure in this 
 noble tragedy, was the daughter of Cyrus the Great, 
 and is by some supposed to be the Vashti of Scripture. 
 
 The scene of tlie tragedy is at Susa, in front of 
 the building in which the Persian council of state 
 assembled. The reader will bear in mind that the 
 Chorus is composed of members of this state- 
 council. 
 
2SS 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Whilst o'er the fields of Greece th' embattled 
 troops 
 
 Of Persia march, with delegated sway 
 We o'er their rich and gold-abounding seats 
 Hold faithful our firm guard ; to this high charge 
 Xerxes, our royal lord, th' imperial son 
 Of great Darius, chose our honour'd age. 
 But for the king's return, and his arm'd host 
 Blazing with gold, my soul presaging ill 
 Swells in my tortured breast : for all her force 
 Hath Asia sent, and for her youth I sigh. 
 No horseman spurs, nor messenger arrives 
 With tidings to this seat of Persia's kings. 
 The gates of Susa and Ecbatana 
 Pour'd forth their martial trains ; and Cissia sees 
 Her ancient towers forsaken, whilst her youth, 
 Some on the bounding steed, the tall bark some 
 Ascending, some with painful march on foot, 
 Haste on, t' arrange the deep'ning files of war. 
 
 Strophe 1. 
 
 Already o'er the adverse strand 
 
 In arms the monarch's martial squadrons spread ; 
 
 Wide-threatening ruin shakes the land, 
 And each tall city bows its tower'd head. 
 
 Bark bound to bark, their wond'rous way 
 
 They bridge across the indignant sea ; 
 The narrow Hellespont's vex'd waves disdain, 
 His proud neck taught to wear the chain. 
 Now has the peopled Asia's warlike lord, 
 
 By land, by sea, with foot, with horse, 
 
 Resistless in his rapid course, 
 O'er all their realms his warring thousands 
 pour'd ; 
 
THE PERSIANS OF ^SCIIYLUS. 
 
 239 
 
 Now his intrepid chiefs surveys, 
 And glitt'ring like a god his radiant state dis- 
 plays. 
 
 Antistrophe 1. 
 
 Fierce as the dragon scaled in gold 
 Through the deep files he darts his glowing eye ; 
 
 And pleased their order to behold, 
 His gorgeous standard blazing to the sky, 
 
 Rolls onward his Assyrian car, 
 
 Directs the thunder of the war. 
 Bids the wing'd arrows' iron storm advance, 
 Against the slow and cumbrous lance. 
 What shall withstand the torrent of his sway. 
 
 When dreadful o'er the yielding shores 
 
 Th' impetuous tide of battle roars. 
 And sweeps the weak-opposing mounds away ? 
 So Persia with resistless might 
 Rolls her unnumber'd hosts of heroes to the 
 
 fight. 
 
 Epode. 
 
 Crush'd beneath th' assailing foe. 
 Her golden head must Cissia bend ; 
 Whilst her pale virgins, frantic with despair, 
 Through all her streets aw^ake the voice of 
 woe ; 
 
 And, flying with their bosoms bare. 
 
 Their purfled stoles in anguish rend : 
 
 For all her youth in martial pride. 
 
 Like bees that, clust'ring round their king, 
 Their dark embodied squadrons bring, 
 
 Attend their sceptred monarch's side. 
 And stretch across the wat'ry way 
 From shore to shore their long array. 
 
240 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 The Persian dames with many a tender fear 
 In grief's sad vigils pass the midnight hour ; 
 
 Shed on the widow'd couch the streaming tear, 
 And the long absence of their loves deplore. 
 
 Each lonely matron feels her pensive breast 
 Throb with desire, with aching fondness 
 glow. 
 
 Since in bright arms her daring warrior drest, 
 Left her to languish in her love-lorn woe. 
 
 Enter Atossa. 
 Behold our monarch's mother, goddess-like ! 
 Imperial consort of Darius, hail ! 
 But yonder speeds a Persian messenger, 
 See where he comes, betokening by his haste 
 Tidings of high import, for good or ill. 
 
 Atossa, Chorus, Messenger. 
 
 Mess, Woe to the towns thro' Asia's peopled realms ! 
 Woe to the land of Persia, once the port 
 Of boundless wealth, how is thy glorious state 
 Vanish'd at once, and all thy spreading honours 
 Fall'n, lost ! Ah me ! unhappy is his task 
 That bears unhappy tidings : but constraint 
 Compels me to relate this tale of woe. 
 Persians, the whole barbaric host is fall'n. 
 
 Chor. O horror, horror ! What a baleful train 
 Of recent ills ! Ah Persians, as he speaks 
 Of ruin, let your tears stream to the earth. 
 
 Mess. It is e'en so, all ruin ; and myself. 
 
 Beyond all hope returning, view this light. 
 
 CiioR, How tedious and oppressive is the weight 
 Of age, reserved to hear these hopeless ills ! 
 
 Mess. I speak not from report ; but these mine eyes 
 Beheld the ruin which my tongue would utter. 
 
THE PERSIANS OF ^SCIIYLUS. 
 
 241 
 
 Chor. Woe, woe is me ! Then has the iron storm, 
 That darken'd from the realms of Asia, pour'd 
 In vain its arrowy shower on sacred Greece. 
 
 Mess. In heaps th' unhappy dead lie on the strand 
 Of Salamis, and all the neighbouring shores. 
 
 Chor. Unhappy friends, sunk, perish'd in the sea ; 
 Their bodies, 'midst the wreck of shatter'd 
 ships, 
 
 Mangled, and rolHng on th' encumber'd waves ! 
 Mess. Nought did their bows avail, but all the 
 troops 
 
 In the first conflict of the ships were lost. 
 Chor. Raise the funereal cry, with dismal notes 
 Wailing the wretched Persians. Oh, how ill 
 They plann'd their measures, all their army 
 perish'd ! 
 
 Mess. O Salamis, how hateful is thy name ! 
 
 And groans burst from me when I think of 
 Athens. 
 
 Chor. How dreadful to her foes ! Call to re- 
 membrance 
 How many Persian dames, wedded in vain, 
 Hath Athens of their noble husbands widow'd ! 
 Atos. Astonied with these ills, my voice thus long 
 Hath wanted utterance : griefs like these ex- 
 ceed 
 
 The power of speech or question : yet e'en 
 such, 
 
 Inflicted by the Gods, must mortal man 
 Constrain'd by hard necessity endure. 
 But tell me all, without distraction tell me, 
 All this calamity, though many a groan 
 Burst from thy labouring heart. Who is not 
 fallen ? 
 
 K 
 
GREEK DRAMATIC FOETS. 
 
 What leader must we wail ? What sceptred 
 chief 
 
 Dying hath left his troops without a lord ? 
 Mess. Xerxes himself yet lives, and sees the light. 
 Atos. That word beams comfort on my house, a ray 
 
 That brightens through the melancholy gloom* 
 Mess. Artembares, the potent chief that led 
 
 Ten thousand horse, lies slaughter'd on the 
 rocks 
 
 Of rough Silenise. The great Dadaces, 
 Beneath whose standard march'd a thousand 
 horse. 
 
 Pierced by a spear, fell headlong from the ship. 
 Tenagon, bravest of the Bactrians, lies 
 Roll'd on the wave- worn beach of Ajax' isle. 
 Lilaeus, Arsames, Argestes, dash 
 With violence in death against the rocks 
 Where nest the silver Doves Arcteus, that 
 dwelt 
 
 Near to the fountains of Egyptian Nile, 
 Adeues, and Pheresba, and Pharnuchus, 
 Fell from one ship. Matallus, Chrysa's chief, 
 That led his dark'ning squadrons, thrice ten 
 thousand. 
 
 On jet-black steeds, with purple gore distain'd 
 The yellow of his thick and shaggy beard. 
 The Magian Arabus, and Artames 
 From Bactra, mould'ring on the dreary shore 
 Lie low. Amistris, and Amphistreus there 
 Grasps his war-wearied spear ; there prostrate 
 lies 
 
 * Salamis was the birth-place of Ajax and sacred to Venus, 
 whence white doves are said to nestle there. 
 
THE PERSIANS OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 243 
 
 Th' illustrious Ariomardus ; long his loss 
 Shall Sardis weep : the Mysian Sisames, 
 And Tharybis, that o'er the burden'd deep 
 Led five times fifty vessels ; Lerna gave 
 The hero birth, and manly grace adorn'd 
 His shapely form, but low in death he lies, 
 Unhappy in his fate. Syennesis, 
 Cilicia's warlike chief, who dared to front 
 The foremost dangers, singly to the foes 
 A terror, there too found a glorious death. 
 These chieftains to my sad remembrance rise, 
 Relating but a few of many ills. 
 Atos. This is the height of ill, ah me ! and shame 
 To Persia, grief, and lamentation loud. 
 But what the number of the Grecian fleet, 
 That in fierce conflict their bold barks should 
 dare 
 
 Rush to encounter with the Persian hosts ? 
 Mess. Know that in numbers the Barbaric fleet 
 Was far superior : in ten squadrons, each 
 Of thirty ships, Greece plough'd the deep ; of 
 these 
 
 One held a distant station. Xerxes led 
 A thousand ships ; their number well I know ; 
 Two hundred more, and seven, that swept the 
 seas 
 
 With speediest sail : this was their full amount. 
 And in th' engagement seem'd we not secure 
 Of victory? But unequal fortune sunk 
 Our scale in fight, discomfiting our host. 
 
 Atos. The Gods preserved the city of Minerva. 
 
 Mess. The walls of Athens are impregnable, 
 Their firmest bulwarks her heroic sons. 
 
 Atos. Which navy first advanc'd to the attack ? 
 
2U 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Mess. Our evil Genius, lady, or some God 
 Hostile to Persia, led to ev'ry ill. 
 Forth from the troops of Athens came a Greek 
 And thus address'd thy son, th' imperial 
 Xerxes ; 
 
 *^ Soon as the shades of night descend, the 
 Greeks 
 
 Will quit their station ; rushing to their oars 
 They mean to separate, and in secret flight 
 Seek safety." At these words the royal chief, 
 Little conceiving of the wiles of Greece, 
 And Gods averse, to all the naval leaders 
 Gave his high charge ; Soon as yon sun shall 
 cease 
 
 To dart his radiant beams, and dark'ning night 
 Ascends the temple of the sky, arrange 
 In three divisions your well-order'd ships, 
 And guard each pass, each out-let of the seas : 
 Others en-ring this sea-born rocky isle 
 Of Salamis : should Greece escape her fate, 
 And work her way by secret flight, your heads 
 Shall answer the neglect." This harsh comm.and 
 He gave, exulting in his mind, nor knew 
 What Fate design'd. With martial disciphne 
 And prompt obedience, snatching a repast, 
 Each mariner fix'd well his ready oar. 
 Soon as the golden sun was set, and night 
 Advanced, each train'd to ply the dashing oar 
 Assumed his seat ; in arms each warrior stood, 
 Troop cheering troop through all the ships of 
 war. 
 
 Each to th' appointed station steers his course : 
 And throucrh the night his naval force each chief 
 * See Introduction, p. 236» 
 
Of m 
 
THE PERSIANS OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
 245 
 
 Fix'd to secure the passes* Night advanced, 
 But not by secret flight did Greece attempt 
 T' escape. The morn, all beauteous to behold, 
 Drawn by white steeds bounds o'er th' en- 
 lighten 'd earth ; 
 At once from every Greek with glad acclaim 
 Burst forth the song of war, whose lofty notes 
 The echo of the island rocks return'd, 
 Spreading dismay through Persia's hosts thus 
 fallen 
 
 From their high hopes ; no flight this solemn 
 strain 
 
 Portended, but deliberate valour bent 
 On daring battle, whilst the trumpet's sound 
 Kindled the flames of w^ar. But when their 
 oars, 
 
 The paean ended, with impetuous force 
 Dash'd the resounding surges, instant all 
 Rush'd on in view ; in orderly array 
 The squadron on the right first led, behind 
 Rode their whole fleet ; and now distinct we 
 heard 
 
 From every part this voice of exhortation. 
 Advance, ye sons of Greece, from thraldom 
 save 
 
 Your country, save your wives, your children 
 save. 
 
 The temples of your Gods, the sacred tombs 
 Where rest your honour'd ancestors ; this day 
 The common cause of all demands your 
 valour." 
 
 Meantime from Persia's hosts the deep'ning 
 shout 
 
 Answer' d their shout ; no tim^ for cold delay ; 
 
246 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 But ship 'gainst ship its brazen beak impell'd. 
 First to the charge a Grecian galley rush'd ; 
 111 the Phoenician bore the rough attack, 
 Its sculptur'd prow all shatter'd. Each ad- 
 vanced 
 
 Daring an opposite. The deep array 
 Of Persia at the first sustained th' encounter ; 
 But their throng'd numbers, in the narrow seas 
 Confined, lacked room for action ; and, de- 
 prived 
 
 Of mutual aid, beaks clash with beaks, and each 
 Breaks all the other's oars : with skill disposed 
 The Grecian navy circled them around 
 With fierce assault ; and rushing from its height 
 The inverted vessel sinks ; the sea no more 
 Wears its accustomed aspect, with foul wrecks 
 And blood disfigured ; floating carcasses 
 Roll on the rocky shores : the poor remains 
 Of the barbaric armament to flight 
 Ply every oar, inglorious : onward rush 
 The Greeks amid the ruins of the fleet, 
 As through a shoal of fish caught in the net, 
 Spreading destruction : the wide ocean o'er 
 Wailings are heard, and loud laments, till night 
 With darkness on her brow brought grateful 
 truce. 
 
 Should I recount each circumstance of woe, 
 Ten times on my unfinished tale the sun 
 Would set ; for be assured that not one day 
 Could close the ruin of so vast a host. 
 
 Atos. Ah, what a boundless sea of woe hath burst 
 On Persia, and the Asiatic race I 
 
 Mess. These are not half, not half our ills ; on these 
 Came an assemblage of calamities^ 
 
THE PERSIANS OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 247 
 
 That sunk us with a double weight of woe. 
 
 Atos. What fortune can be more unfriendly to us 
 Than this ? Say on, what dread calamity 
 Sunk Persia's host with greater weight of woe. 
 
 Mess. Whoe'er of Persia's warriors glowed in prime 
 Of vig'rous youth, or felt their generous souls 
 Expand with courage, or for noble birth 
 Shone with distinguish'd lustre, or excell'd 
 In firm and duteous loyalty, all these 
 Are fallen, ignobly, miserably fallen. 
 
 Atos. Alas their ruthless fate, unhappy friends ; 
 But in what manner, tell me, did they perish ? 
 
 Mess. Full against Salamis an isle arises 
 
 Of small circumference, to the anchor 'd bark 
 Unfaithful ; on the promontory's brow, 
 That overlooks the sea, Pan loves to lead 
 The dance : to this the monarch sent these 
 chiefs, 
 
 That when the Grecians from their shattered 
 ships 
 
 Should here seek shelter, these might hew them 
 down 
 
 An easy conquest, and secure the strand 
 To their sea- wearied friends ; ill judging what 
 The event ; but when the favouring God to 
 Greece 
 
 Gave the proud glory of this naval fight. 
 Instant in all their glittering arms they leap'd 
 From their light ships, and all the island round 
 Encompassed, that our bravest stood dismay'd ; 
 
 * Psyttaleia, a rough uncultivated rock between Salamis and 
 the continent. Pan is always represented as haunting mountain 
 tops and stony summits. 
 
2iS 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Whilst broken rocks, whirled with tempestuous 
 force, 
 
 And storms of arrows crushed them ; then the 
 Greeks 
 
 Rush to the attack at once, and furious spread 
 The carnage, till each mangled Persian fell. 
 Deep were the groans of Xerxes, when he saw 
 This havoc ; for his seat, a lofty mound 
 Commanding the wide sea, o'erlooked his 
 hosts 
 
 With rueful cries he rent his royal robes, 
 And through his troops embattled on the shore 
 Gave signal of retreat ; then started wild, 
 And fled disordered. To the former ills 
 These are fresh miseries to awake thy sighs. 
 Ato6. Invidious Fortune, how thy baleful power 
 Hath sunk the hopes of Persia ! Bitter fruit 
 My son hath tasted from his purposed ven- 
 geance 
 
 On Athens famed for arms ; the fatal field 
 Of Marathon, red with barbaric blood, 
 Sufficed not ; that defeat he sought t' avenge. 
 And plucked this hideous ruin on his head. 
 But tell me, if thou canst, where didst thou leave 
 The ships that happily escaped the wreck ? 
 Mess. The poor remains of Persia's scattered fleet 
 Spread every sail for flight, as the wind drives, 
 In wild disorder. And on land no less 
 The ruined army ; in Boeotia some, 
 With thirst oppressed, at Crene's cheerful rills 
 
 * Xerxes viewed this fight from ^gialus, a mountain on the 
 opposite shore : the silver chair on which he sat, was afterwards 
 placed in the temple of Minerva at Athens, and dedicated to that 
 Goddess, as was the golden-hilted scymitar of Mardonius. 
 
OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
THE PERSIANS OF iESCPIYLUS. 
 
 249 
 
 Were lost ; fore-spent with breathless speed 
 some pass 
 
 The fields of Phocis, some the Doric plain, 
 And near the gulf of Melia, the rich vale 
 Through which Sperchius rolls his friendly 
 stream. 
 
 Achaia thence and the Thessalian state 
 Received our famished train ; the greater part, 
 Through thirst and hunger perished there, op- 
 pressed 
 
 At once by both : but we our painful steps 
 Held onwards to Magnesia, and the land 
 Of Macedonia, o'er the ford of Axius, 
 And Bolbe's sedgy marshes, and the heights 
 Of steep Pangaeos, to the realms of Thrace. 
 That night, ere yet the season, stern and chill 
 Rushed winter, and with ice encrusted o'er 
 The flood of sacred Strymon : such as owned 
 No God till now, awe-struck, with many a prayer 
 Adored the earth and sky. When now the troops 
 Had ceased their invocations to the Gods, 
 O'er the stream's solid crystal they began 
 Their march ; and we, who took our early way, 
 Ere the sun darted his warm beams, passed 
 safe ; 
 
 But when his burning orb with fiery rays 
 Unbound the middle current, down they sunk 
 Each over other ; happiest he who found 
 The speediest death : the poor remains, that 
 'scaped. 
 
 With pain through Thrace dragged on their toil- 
 some march, 
 A feeble few, and reached their native soil. 
 Chor. O Fortune, heavy with affliction's load, 
 
250 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 How hatli thy foot crushed all the Persian race ! 
 Xerxes sent forth the unwise command, 
 The crowded ships unpeopled all the land ; 
 That land, o'er which Darius held his reign, 
 Courting the arts of peace, in vain. 
 O'er all his grateful realms adored, 
 The stately Susa's gentle lord. 
 Black o'er the waves his burdened vessels sweep. 
 For Greece elate the warlike squadrons fly ; 
 Now crushed, and whelmed beneath the indig- 
 nant deep 
 
 The shattered wrecks and lifeless heroes lie : 
 Whilst, from the arms of Greece escaped, with 
 toil 
 
 The unsheltered monarch roams o'er Thracia's 
 dreary soil. 
 With sacred awe 
 The Persian law 
 No more shall Asia's realms revere ; 
 To their lord's hand. 
 At his command. 
 No more the exacted tribute bear. 
 Who now falls prostrate at the monarch's throne ? 
 
 His regal greatness is no more. 
 Now no restraint the wanton tongue shall own, 
 
 Free from the golden curb of power ; 
 For on the rocks, washed by the beating flood, 
 His awe-commanding nobles lie in blood. 
 
 Atossa, Chorus. 
 
 Atos. Whoe'er, my friends, in the rough stream of 
 life 
 
 Hath struggled with affliction, thence is taught 
 That when the flood begins to swell, the heart 
 
THE PERSIANS OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 251 
 
 Fondly fears all things : when the favouring 
 gale 
 
 Of fortune smooths the current, it expands 
 With unsuspecting confidence, and deems 
 That gale shall always breathe. So to my eyes 
 All things now wear a formidable shape. 
 And threaten from the Gods : my ears are 
 pierced 
 
 With sounds far other than of song. Such ills 
 Dismay my sickening soul : hence from my 
 house 
 
 Nor glitt'ring car attends me, nor the train 
 Of wonted state, whilst I return, and bear 
 Libations soothing to the father's shade 
 In the son's cause ; delicious milk, that foams 
 White from the sacred heifer : liquid honey, 
 Extracts of flowers ; and from its virgin fount 
 The running crystal ; this pure draught, that 
 flowed 
 
 From th' ancient vine, of power to bathe the 
 spirits 
 
 In joy ; the yellow olive's fragrant fruit, 
 That glories in its leaves' unfading verdure ; 
 With flowers of various hues, earth's fairest 
 offspring, 
 
 Enwreathed. But you, my friends, amidst 
 these rites 
 
 Raise high your solemn warblings, and invoke 
 Your lord, divine Darius : I meanwhile 
 Will pour these olF'rings to th' infernal Gods. 
 Chor. Yes, royal lady, Persia's honoured grace, 
 To earth's dark chambers pour thy off 'rings : 
 We 
 
 With choral hymns will supplicate the powers 
 
252 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 That guide the dead to be propitious to us. 
 And you, that o'er the reahns of night extend 
 Your sacred sway, thee mighty earth, and thee 
 Hermes ; thee chief, tremendous king, whose 
 throne 
 
 Awes with supreme dominion, I adjure : 
 Send, from your gloomy regions, send his shade 
 Once more to visit this ethereal light ; 
 That he alone, if aught of dread event 
 He sees yet threat'ning Persia, may disclose 
 To us poor mortals Fate's extreme decree. 
 Great and good, Darius, rise : 
 Lord of Persia's lord, appear : 
 Thus invoked with thrilling cries 
 Come, our tale of sorrow hear ! 
 Woe her Stygian pennons spreads, 
 Brooding darkness o'er our heads ; 
 For stretched along the dreary shore 
 The flower of Asia lies distained with gore. 
 Rise, Darius, aw^ful power, 
 Long for thee our tears shall flow ; 
 Why thy ruined empire o'er 
 Swells this double flood of woe ? 
 Sweeping o'er the azure tide 
 Rode thy navy's gallant pride ; 
 Navy now no more, for all 
 Beneath the whelming wave ■ * 
 
 Ghost of Darius, Atossa, Chorus. 
 
 Dar. Ye faithful Persians, honoured now in age, 
 Once the companions of my youth, what ills 
 
 * The ghost of Darius here rises suddenly, and interrupts the 
 unfinished hymn. 
 
THE PERSIANS OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 253 
 
 Afflict the State? The firm earth groans, it 
 opes, 
 
 Disclosing its vast deeps ; and near my tomb 
 I see my wife : this shakes my troubled soul 
 With fearful apprehensions ; yet her off 'rings 
 Pleased I receive. And you around my grave 
 Chanting the lofty strain, whose solemn air 
 Draws forth the dead, with grief-attempered 
 notes 
 
 Mournfully call me : not with ease the way 
 Leads to this upper air ; and the stern Gods, 
 Prompt to admit, yield not a passage back 
 But with reluctance : much with them my power 
 Availing, with no tardy step I come. 
 Say then, with what new ill doth Persia groan ? 
 CiiOR. My wonted awe * o'ercomes me ; in thy pre- 
 sence 
 
 I dare not raise my eyes, I dare not speak. 
 Dar. Since fear hath chained his tongue, high-ho- 
 noured dame, 
 Once my imperial consort, check thy tears, 
 Thy griefs ; and speak distinctly. Mortal man 
 
 * Nothing could be more agreeable to the republican spirit of 
 the Athenians, than to see their proud invaders represented under 
 this servile awe. The Persians, when they approached the royal 
 presence, fell on their faces to the ground, as in this adoration of 
 their king, tliey adored the image of God the preserver of all 
 things. — But the Greeks had so great an abhorrence of this cus- 
 tom, that Conon, though sent to the Persian court by his friend 
 Pharnabazus, and charged with a commission of the greatest con- 
 sequence to the welfare of Greece, refused to be introduced to 
 Artaxerxes, that he might not disgrace his country by complying 
 w ith it. The reader may remember a similar circumstance oc- 
 curring more than once in modern diplomacy, in our intercourse 
 with the court of China, 
 
254 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Must bear his lot of woe ; afflictions rise 
 Darkling, from sea and land alike, if life 
 Haply be measured through a lengthen'd course. 
 Atos. O thou, that graced with fortune's choicest 
 gifts 
 
 Surpassing mortals, whilst thine eye beheld 
 Yon sun's ethereal rays, liv'dstlike a God 
 Blest 'midst thy Persians ; blest I deem thee 
 now 
 
 In death, ere sunk in this abyss of ills ; 
 Darius, hear at once our sum of woe. 
 Ruin through all her states hath crushed thy 
 Persia ; 
 
 Near Athens all our choicest troops have 
 fallen. 
 
 Dar. Say, of my sons which led the forces thither ? 
 Atos. Impetuous Xerxes, thinning all the land. 
 Dar. By sea or land dared he this rash attempt ? 
 Atos. By both : a double front the war presented. 
 Dar. a host so vast what march conducted o'er ? 
 Atos. From shore to shore he bridged the Hellespont. 
 Dar. What ! could he chain the mighty Bosphorus ? 
 Atos, E'en so, some God assisting his design. 
 Dar. Some God of power to cloud his better 
 sense. 
 
 Atos. The event now shows what mischiefs he 
 achieved. 
 
 Susa, through all her streets, mourns her lost 
 
 sons ; 
 
 In Bactra age and grief are only left. 
 Dar. Ah, what a train of warlike youth is lost ! 
 
 Atos. Xerxes, astonished, desolate, alone 
 
 Dar. How will this end ? Nay, pause not. Is he 
 safe ? 
 
THE PERSIANS OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
 255 
 
 Atos. Fled o'er the bridge, that joined the adverse 
 Strands, 
 
 And reached this shore in safety. 
 Dar. With what a winged course the oracles 
 
 Haste their completion ? With the lightning's 
 speed 
 
 Jove on my son hath hurled his threatened ven- 
 geance ; 
 
 Yet I implored the Gods that it might fall 
 In time's late progress : but when rashness 
 drives 
 
 Impetuous on, the scourge of Heaven upraised 
 Lashes the Fury forward ; hence these ills 
 Pour headlong on my friends. Not weighing 
 this, 
 
 My son, with all the fiery pride of youth, 
 Hath quickened their arrival, whilst he hoped 
 To bind the sacred Hellespont, to hold 
 The raging Bosphorus, like a slave, in chains *, 
 And dared th' advent'rous passage, bridging firm 
 With links of solid steel his wondrous way, 
 To lead his numerous host ; and, swelled with 
 thoughts 
 
 Presumptuous, deemed, vain mortal, that his 
 power 
 
 * Authors have been careful to transmit to us an account of 
 the presumptuous pride of Xerxes. When the first bridge, which 
 he formed over the Hellespont, was broken by the waves, he or- 
 dered the sea to be scourged for having dared to disobey his will, 
 and threw chains into it, signifying that he would bind it as his 
 slave in fetters : but it has not been observed that the peculiar 
 aggravation of this folly arose from the impiety of it ; for, as 
 the Persians revered water as particularly sacred, Xerxes by his 
 arrogance insulted the divinity of the sea. 
 
256 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Should rise above the Gods, and Neptune's 
 might. 
 
 Atos. This from too frequent converse with bad 
 men 
 
 Impetuous Xerxes learned : These caught his 
 ear 
 
 With thy great deeds, as winning for thy sons 
 Vast riches with thy conquering spear, whilst 
 he, 
 
 Tim'rous and slothful, never save in sport 
 Lifted his lance, nor added to his greatness. 
 Dar. Great deeds have they achieved, and me- 
 morable 
 
 For ages ! Never hath this wasted state 
 Suffered such ruin, since Heaven's awful king 
 Gave to one lord Asia's extended plains 
 White with innumerous flocks, and to his hands 
 Consigned th' imperial sceptre. Her brave hosts 
 A Mede first led. The virtues of his son 
 Fixed firm the empire, for his temperate soul 
 Breathed prudence. Cyrus next, by fortune 
 graced. 
 
 Adorned the throne, and blessed his grateful 
 friends 
 
 With peace. Fie to his mighty monarchy 
 Joined Lydia, and the Phrygians ; to his jK)wer 
 Ionia bent reluctant ; but the Cods 
 With victory his gentle virtues crowned. 
 His son then wore the regal diadem. 
 Next, to disgrace his country, and to stain 
 The splendid glories of this ancient throne, 
 Rose Mardus : him with righteous vengeance 
 fired 
 
 Artaphrenes, and his confederate chiefs, 
 
THE PERSIANS OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 257 
 
 Crushed in his palace : Maraphis assumed 
 The sceptre : after him Artaphrenes. 
 Me next to this exalted eminence, 
 Crowning my great ambition, fortune raised ; 
 In many a glorious field my glittering spear 
 Flamed in the van of Persia's numerous hosts ; 
 But never wrought such ruin to the state. 
 Xerxes, my son, in all the pride of youth 
 Listens to youthful counsels, my commands 
 No more remembered : hence, my hoary friends. 
 Not the whole line of Persia's sceptred lords, 
 You know it well, so wasted her brave sons. 
 Chor. Why this ? To what fair end are these thy 
 words 
 
 Directed? Sovereign lord, instruct thy Persians 
 How, 'midst this ruin, best to guide their state. 
 Dar. No more 'gainst Greece lead your embattled 
 hosts ; 
 
 Not though your deep'ning phalanx spreads 
 the field 
 
 Out-numb'ring theirs : their very earth fights 
 for them. 
 
 Not even those who still in Greece survive 
 Shall e'er revisit safe the Persian shore. 
 They have their station where Asopus flows 
 Wat'ring the plain, whose grateful currents roll 
 Diffusing plenty through Boeotia's fields. 
 There misery waits to crush them with the load 
 Of heaviest ills, in vengeance for their proud 
 And impious daring : for where'er they held 
 Through Greece their march, they feared not 
 to profane 
 
 The statues of the Gods ; their hallowed shrines, 
 Fired from their firm foundations, to the ground 
 
 s 
 
258 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Levelled their temples : Such their frantic deeds. 
 Nor less their sufF'rings: greater still await 
 them ; 
 
 For vengeance hath not wasted all her stores, 
 The heap yet swells : for in Plataea's plains 
 Beneath the Doric spear the clotted mass 
 Of carnage shall arise, that the high mounds, 
 Piled o'er the dead, to late posterity 
 Shall give this silent record to men's eyes, 
 That proud aspiring thoughts but ill beseem 
 Weak mortals : for oppression, when it springs, 
 Puts forth the blade of vengeance, and its fruit 
 Yields a ripe harvest of repentant woe. 
 Behold this vengeance, and remember Greece, 
 Remember Athens : henceforth let not pride, 
 Her present state disdaining, strive to grasp 
 Another's, and her treasured happiness 
 Shed on the ground : such insolent attempts 
 Awake the vengeance of offended Jove *. 
 But you, whose age demands more temperate 
 thoughts, 
 
 With words of well-placed counsel teach his 
 youth 
 
 To curb that pride, which from the Gods calls 
 down 
 
 Destruction on his head. And thou, whose age 
 The miseries of thy Xerxes sink with sorrow, 
 Go to thy house, thence choose the richest robe, 
 And meet thy son ; for through the rage of 
 grief 
 
 * The intention of the poet in the noble reflection here ascribed 
 to Darius, was, it is said, to incline the Athenians to accept the 
 Persian monarch's proposal of peace, which Themistocles alone 
 still continued to oppose. 
 
THE PERSIANS OF ^SCHYLUS. 259 
 
 His gorgeous vestments from his royal limbs 
 Are foully rent. With gentlest courtesy 
 Sooth his affliction ; for his duteous ear, 
 I know, will listen to thy voice alone. 
 Now to the realms of darkness I descend. 
 My ancient friends, farewell, and 'midst these 
 ills 
 
 Each day in pleasures bathe your drooping 
 spirits. 
 
 For treasured riches nought avail the dead. 
 
 Atossa, Chorus. 
 
 Chor. These many present, many future ills 
 
 Denounced on Persia, sink my soul with grief. 
 
 Atos. Unhappy fortune, what a tide of ills 
 
 Bursts o'er me ! Chief this foul disgrace, which 
 shows 
 
 My son divested of his rich attire. 
 His royal robes all rent, distracts my thoughts. 
 But I will go, choose the most gorgeous vest, 
 And haste to meet my son. Ne'er in his woes 
 Will I forsake whom my soul holds most dear. 
 
 / CHORUS. 
 
 Strophe 1. 
 
 Ye powers that rule the skies. 
 Memory recals our great, our happy fate, 
 Our well-appointed state. 
 The scenes of glory opening to our eyes, 
 
 When this vast empire o'er 
 The good Darius, with each virtue blest 
 That forms a monarch's breast, 
 
 s 2 
 
260 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Shielding his subjects with a father's care, 
 
 Invincible in war, 
 Extended like a God his awful power. 
 
 Then spread our arms their glory wide, 
 Guarding to peace her golden reign ; 
 
 Each towered city saw with pride 
 Safe from the toils of war her homeward- 
 marching train. 
 
 Antistrophe 1. 
 
 Nor Halys' shallow strand 
 
 He passed, nor from his palace moved his state ; 
 
 He spoke ; his word was Fate : 
 
 What strong-based cities could his might with- 
 stand ? 
 
 Not those that lift their heads 
 
 Where to the sea the floods of Strymon pass. 
 
 Leaving the huts of Thrace ; 
 Nor those, that far th' extended ocean o'er 
 Stand girt with many a tower ; 
 Nor where the Hellespont his broad wave 
 spreads ; 
 
 Nor the firm bastions' rampir'd might, 
 Whose foot the deep Propontis laves ; 
 
 Nor those, that glorying in their height 
 Frown o'er the Pontic sea, and shade his 
 darkened waves. 
 
 Strophe 2. 
 
 Each sea-girt isle around 
 Bowed to this monarch: humbled Lesbos 
 bowed ; 
 
THE PERSIANS OF AESCHYLUS. 
 
 261 
 
 Paros, of its marble proud ; 
 
 Naxos with vines, with olives Samos crowned ; 
 
 Him Myconus adored ; 
 Chios, the seat of beauty ; Andros steep, 
 That stretches o'er the deep 
 To meet the wat'ry Tenos ; him each bay 
 Bound by th' Icarian sea, 
 
 Him Melos, Gnidus, Rhodes confessed their 
 lord : 
 
 O'er Cyprus stretched his sceptred hand : 
 Paphos and Solos owned his power. 
 
 And Salamis, whose hostile strand. 
 The cause of all our woe, is red with Persian gore. 
 
 Antistrophe 2. 
 
 E'en the proud towns, that reared 
 Sublime along th' Ionian coast their towers, 
 Where wealth her treasures pours. 
 Peopled from Greece, his prudent reign revered.. 
 
 With such unconquered might 
 His hardy warriors shook th' embattled fields. 
 Heroes that Persia yields. 
 And those from distant realms that took their 
 way. 
 
 And wedged in close array 
 
 Beneath his glitt'ring banners claimed the fights 
 But now these glories are no more ; 
 Farewell the big war's plumed pride : 
 The Gods have crushed this trophied 
 power. 
 
 Sunk are our vanquished arms beneath th' in- 
 dignant tide. 
 
 Enter Xerxes. 
 
262 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Xerxes, Chorus. 
 
 Xerx. Ah me, how sudden have the storms of 
 Fate, 
 
 Beyond all thought, all apprehension, burst 
 On my devoted head ! O Fortune, Fortune ! 
 With what relentless fury hath thy hand. 
 Hurled desolation on the Persian race ! 
 Woe insupportable ! The tort'ring thought 
 Of our lost youth comes rushing on my heart, 
 And sinks me to the ground. O Jove, that I 
 Had died with those brave men that died in 
 fight r 
 
 Chor. Proud Asia sinking on her knee, O king. 
 Humbled, with griefs oppressed, bends to the 
 earth. 
 
 Xerx. And I, O wretched fortune, I was born 
 To crush, to desolate my ruined country. 
 
 Chor. I have no voice, no swelling harmony, 
 No descant save these notes of woe. 
 Harsh, and responsive to the sullen sigh. 
 Rude strains, that unmelodious flow. 
 To welcome thy return. 
 
 Xerx. Then bid them flow, bid the wild measuree^ 
 flow. 
 
 Hollow, unmusical, the notes of grief; 
 They suit my fortune, and dejected state. 
 Chor. Yes, at thy royal bidding shall the strain 
 Pour the deep sorrows of my soul ; 
 . The sufferings of my bleeding country plain. 
 And bid the mournful measures roll. 
 Again the voice of wild despair 
 With thrilling shrieks shall pierce the air ; 
 
THE PERSIANS OF ^ESCHYLUS. 
 
 263 
 
 For high the God of War his flaming crest 
 Raised, with the fleet of Greece surrounded, 
 The haughty arms of Greece with conquest 
 blest, 
 
 And Persia's wither'd force confounded, 
 Dash'd on the dreary beach her heroes slain. 
 Or whelm'd them in the darken'd main. 
 
 Chor. O woe, woe, woe ! Unutterable woe 
 The Demons of Revenge have spread ; 
 And Ate from her drear abode below 
 Rises to view the horrid deed. 
 
 Xerx. Dismay, and rout, and ruin, ills that wait 
 On man's afflicted fortune, sink us down. 
 
 Chor. Dismay, and rout, and ruin on us wait, 
 And all the vengeful storms of Fate : 
 111 flows on ill, on sorrow sorrows rise ; 
 Misfortune leads her baleful train ; 
 Before the Ionian squadrons Persia flies, 
 Or sinks ingulfed beneath the main : 
 Fall'n, fall'n is her imperial power, 
 And, conquest on her banners waits no more. 
 
 Xerx. At such a fall, such troops of heroes lost, 
 How can my soul but sink in deep despair ! 
 
 Chor. Is all thy glory lost, are all thy powers 
 In ruin crushed ? 
 
 Xerx. No satrap guards me now. 
 
 Chor. Where are thy valiant friends? Thy chief- 
 tains where ? 
 
 Xerx. Weep, weep their loss, and lead me to my 
 house ; 
 
 Answer my grief with grief, an ill return 
 
 Of ills for ills. Yet once more raise that strain 
 
 Lamenting my misfortunes ; beat thy breast, 
 
264 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Strike, heave the groan ; awake the Mysian 
 strain 
 
 To notes of loudest woe ; rend thy rich robes. 
 Pluck up thy beard, tear off thy hoary locks. 
 And bathe thine eyes in tears : thus through 
 the streets 
 
 Solemn and slow with sorrow lead my steps ; 
 Lead to my house, and wail the fate of Persia. 
 Chor. Yes, at thy bidding shall the dirge again 
 Pour the deep sorrows of my soul; 
 The suff 'rings of my bleeding country plain. 
 And bid the Mysian measures roll. 
 Again the voice of wild despair 
 With thrilling shrieks shall pierce the air ; 
 For high the God of War his flaming crest 
 Raised, with the fleet of Greece surrounded, 
 The haughty arms of Greece with conquest 
 blest. 
 
 And Persia's withered force confounded, 
 Dashed on the dreary beach her heroes slain. 
 Or whelmed them in the darkened main. 
 
 END OF THE PERSIANS OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
THE 
 
 SUPPLIANTS. 
 
 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 DANAUS. 
 
 PELASGUS, King of Sicyon. 
 HERALD. 
 
 CHORUS, THE DAUGHTERS OF DANAUS. 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF iESCHYLUS. 267 
 
 INTRODUCTION, 
 
 Danaus and ^gyptus, sons of Belus, were fourth 
 in descent from lo. The first had fifty daughters, 
 the latter as many sons, j^lgyptus deemed it his in- 
 terest to unite their famihes and kingdoms still 
 more closely, by the marriage of his sons with the 
 daughters of his brother. Danaus and his children 
 thought this connection so unlawful and impious 
 that they sailed from Egypt and sought refuge in 
 Greece. Mr. Potter well observes, that " the pro- 
 vident wisdom of their father Danaus, the calm but 
 firm dignity of Pelasgus, the inviolable attachment 
 to the laws of hospitality, the solemn sense of re- 
 ligion, and the chasteness of sentiment through the 
 whole, must please every mind that is capable of 
 being touched with the gracious simplicity of ancient 
 manners." The religious peace that reigns through- 
 out it, contrasts too, very agreeably, with the din of 
 arms which pervaded the last tragedy. 
 
 The scene is near the shore, in an open grove, 
 beside the altar and images of the gods presiding 
 over the sacred games, with a view of the sea and 
 the ships of ^Egyptus on one side, and of the towers 
 of Argos on the other. 
 
 The point at which the action commences, is when 
 the Suppliants have just landed on the coast of 
 Greece, which, after duly invoking Jupiter, the god 
 of Suppliants, to protect them, they thus proceed to 
 address : 
 
268 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Chor. Ye royal towers, thou earth, and ye fair 
 streams 
 
 Of orient crystal, ye immortal gods 
 In the high heavens enthroned, ye awful powers 
 That deep beneath hold your tremendous seats, 
 Jove the preserver, guardian of the roof 
 Of pious men, receive your suppliants. 
 Breathe o'er these realms your gracious in- 
 fluence. 
 
 And form them to receive this female train ! 
 But for those men, that proud injurious band 
 Sprung from ^gyptus, ere they fix their foot 
 On this moist shore, drive them into the deep. 
 With all their flying streamers and quick oars, 
 There let them meet the whirlwind's boist'rous 
 rage, 
 
 Thund'rings, and lightnings, and the furious 
 blasts 
 
 That harrow up the wild tempestuous waves. 
 And perish in the storm, ere they ascend 
 Our kindred bed, and seize against our will 
 What nature and the laws of blood deny. 
 Ye rising hills that crown this shore, 
 Where Apis* reign'd in years of yore, 
 Propitious hear me, nor disdain 
 To let your echoes learn this strain : 
 Barbaric though my voice and rude, 
 Well may its notes be understood ; 
 
 * Apis, a son of Apollo, the most ancient King of Peloponne- 
 sus, from which he is said to have expelled all venomous reptiles. 
 Hence Nestor, in the 270th line of the 1st Iliad, says he came 
 from the Apian land afar, to aid the Lapithse against the Cen- 
 taurs ; P\dos, now Navarin, was situate on the west coast of Pe- 
 loponnesus. 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF iESCHYlUS. 269 
 
 Barbaric though this purfled stole, 
 Flounc'd around with linen roll : 
 This blushing veil though Sidon gave, 
 Ye hills of Apis hear, and save ! 
 
 The dashing oar, the swelling sail. 
 That caught the favourable gale, 
 Safe from the storms, let none complain, 
 Wafted ovir frail bark o'er the main. 
 All-seeing sovereign sire, defend. 
 And guide us to a prosp'rous end ; 
 Save us, O save the seed divine 
 Of our great mother's sacred line ; 
 From man's rude touch O set us free, 
 And help insnared chastity ! 
 
 Thou, virgin daughter of high Jove, 
 A virgin's vows hear, and approve ; 
 Holding thy sober, awful state. 
 Protect us from the touch we hate ; 
 From bold incontinence secure, 
 Pure thyself, preserve us pure ; 
 Save us, O save the seed divine 
 Of our great mother's sacred line ; 
 From man's rude touch O set us free, 
 And help insnared chastity ! 
 
 Danaus, Chorus. 
 
 Dan. Daughters, this hour demands your utmost 
 prudence ; 
 
 Your father's care, your old and faithful pilot. 
 Hath held your helm safe o'er the dangerous 
 deep ; 
 
 Behoves you, now at land, with provident heed 
 To form your counsels, and attentive mark 
 My words. Yon cloud of dust, though tongue- 
 less, speaks 
 
270 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 An army nigh ; I hear then* wheels of brass 
 Loud rattling on their axles ; now I view 
 Chariots and horse distinct, and shields, and 
 spears 
 
 Far gleaming o'er the plain ; the lords per- 
 chance 
 
 That rule these realms, inform'd of our arrival, 
 Advance ; but bring they to us minds of peace, 
 Guiltless of violence, or with ruthless rage 
 Rush on this train, best sit together, virgins. 
 Around this altar sacred to the Gods 
 Presiding o'er the games * : a surer refuge 
 Than tower or shield war-proof, an altar gives. 
 Go then with speed, and reverent in your 
 hands 
 
 Hold forth these supplicating branches, crown'd 
 With snowy wreaths, ensigns of awful Jove. 
 With modest, grave, and decent speech receive 
 These strangers, as beseems the wretched state 
 Of unknown suppliants ; declare at once 
 Distinct and brief the motives of your flight. 
 Chor. Wise are thy counsels, and with reverent 
 heed 
 
 Shall be remember'd, father ; and may Jove, 
 The author of our race, look gracious on us. 
 
 Enter Pelasgus. 
 
 Pelasgus, Danaus, Chorus. 
 
 Pel. What female train address we here, and 
 whence. 
 
 Gorgeously vested in barbaric stoles 
 
 That float in many a fold ? Our Argos sees not 
 
 * These gods were Jupiter as presiding over the Olympic 
 games, Neptune over the Isthmian, and Apollo as institutor of the 
 Pythian. 
 
LIBRARY 
 Of THE 
 UNIVERSiTY OF ILLINOIS 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF ^SCHYLUS, 
 
 271 
 
 Her daughters thus array 'd, nor Greece through 
 all 
 
 Its states. That thus without some previous 
 herald, 
 
 The public hospitality not ask'd, 
 Without safe conduct, you have boldly ven- 
 tured 
 
 To land upon our coasts, it is most strange. 
 Only these boughs, as suppliants are wont, 
 You lay before these Gods that o'er the games 
 Preside : hence Greece forms only one con- 
 jecture. 
 
 Of all besides uncertain what to think, 
 
 Till your distinct relation clears our doubts. 
 
 Chor. How am I to address thee, as a man 
 
 Of private station, or with hallow'd charge 
 Presiding here, or chieftain of the state ? 
 
 Pel. Nay, answer me, and speak with confidence : 
 Pelasgus bids you, sovereign of this land : 
 My sire Palaechthon, of high ancestry 
 Original with th' earth : from me, their king, 
 The people take their name, and boast them- 
 selves 
 
 Pelasgians. O'er a wide extent of land. 
 Through which the Algus flows, and Strymon 
 west. 
 
 From the Perrhaebians o'er the sacred heights 
 Of Pindus, to Poeonia, and beyond 
 The mountains of Dodona, spacious realms, 
 My empire stretches, bounded by the sea. 
 Now speak, and tell with speed your purpose 
 here ; 
 
 But know we brook not the long pomp of words, 
 Chor. Brief will I be, and plain. Of Argive race 
 
272 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 We boast ourselves, and draw our vaunted 
 lineage 
 
 From her, the lowing mother *, in her son f 
 Supremely blest. All this my words shall prove. 
 Pel. Unplausible your tale. Can it be, strangers, 
 That you're of Argive race ? Liker, I ween, 
 To Libyan damsels, in no wise resembling 
 Our daughters, such perchance the Nile might 
 rear. 
 
 Such in the glowing tint the artist's hand 
 Might mark the Colchian dame ; and such, I 
 hear, 
 
 The wan'dring Indians, mounted on their 
 camels, 
 
 Along the tented plains out-stretching wide 
 To ^Ethiopia's cities ; such the troops 
 Of warlike Amazons ; and were your hands 
 Arm'd with the polish'd bow, 1 might conjecture 
 You were of these ; therefore I thirst to know 
 More fully, how you are of Argive race. 
 
 Chor. Fame speaks of lo, in this Argive land. 
 Relating that the Thunderer, of her charms 
 Enamour'd, with a mortal mix'd the god. 
 
 Pel. What angry measures form'd his royal consort ? 
 
 Chor. The Argive queen transformed her to a 
 heifer ; 
 
 An herdsman she assigned starr'd round with 
 eyes. 
 
 Pel. What herdsman this, and how starr'd round 
 with eyes ? 
 
 Chor, The earth-born Argus : but him Hermes 
 slew. 
 
 * lo. f Epaphus. 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF .ESCHYLUS. 
 
 273 
 
 Pel. What new device to vex the wretched heifer '1 
 Chor. a winged pest, arm'd with a horrid sting : 
 Those on the banks of Nile call it the brize. 
 Pel. And drove her in long wand'rings from this 
 land ? 
 
 Cnor. Thy words, according well, speak this for me. 
 Pel. Reach'd she Canobus, and the walls of Mem- 
 phis ? 
 
 Chor. There Jove with gentle hand sooth'd her to 
 rest ; 
 
 There planted his illustrious progeny. 
 Pel. ^Vho from this heifer boasts his race divine ? 
 Chor. Hence Epaphus received his name ; from him 
 
 Libya, whose fair domains extended wide. 
 Pel. What other branch sprang from this mighty 
 root ? 
 
 Chor. Belus, the father of two sons ; my sire, 
 
 Behold, is one. 
 Pel. Declare the sage's name. 
 
 Chor. Danaus : his brother, whom by name they 
 call 
 
 iEgyptus, is the sire of fifty sons. 
 Thus have I shewn thee our high ancestry ; 
 Protect us then, support an Argive train. 
 Pel. You seem indeed to draw your origin 
 
 Of old from hence : but say, how have you 
 dared 
 
 To leave your father's house ? What chance 
 constrain'd you ? 
 Chor. King of Peiasgia, various are the ills 
 
 Of mortal man ; and never may'st thou see 
 Misfortune mounting on the self-same wing. 
 Who would have thought we should have 
 wing'd our flight 
 
 T 
 
274 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Thus unexpected to the coast of Argos 
 Allied of old, amazement in our van, 
 And strong abhorrence of the nuptial bed ! 
 
 Pel. In what would you engage my honour to you ? 
 
 Chor. Not to enthral us to ^gyptus' sons, 
 Should they demand us. 
 
 Pel. Arduous is the task 
 
 Thou wouldst enjoin me, to provoke new wars. 
 
 Chor. O'er him that succours. Justice holds her 
 shield. 
 
 Pel. Struck with religious awe I thus behold 
 These branches shade this consecrated seat. 
 
 Chor. Dread then the wrath of Jove, who guards 
 the suppliant. 
 Son of Palsechthon, hear me ; with a heart 
 Prompt to relieve, king of Pelasgia, hear. 
 Behold me suppliant, an exile, wand'ring, 
 Like the poor lamb, that on the craggy steep 
 Raises her mournful voice, secure of help, 
 And warns her faithful keeper of her danger. 
 
 Pel. To me in private make not your request, 
 Ere consultation with the people held 
 Warrant the sanction of the public faith. 
 
 Chor. Thou art the state ; the public thou ; thy 
 voice, 
 
 Superior to control, confirms the sanction 
 This altar gives ; thy sole authority. 
 High-sceptred monarch of a sovereign throne, 
 Is here obeyed : religion's voice pleads for us ; 
 Revere it, nor profane these hallow'd seats. 
 Pel. That profanation to mine enemies. 
 To grant you my protection cannot be 
 But with much danger ; to reject your prayers. 
 Humanity forbids : perplex'd I fear 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF ^SCHYLUS. 275 
 
 To act, or not to act, and fix my choice. 
 Chor. On heaven's high throne he sits whose 
 
 watchful eye 
 Regards the afflicted, when unfeeh'ng pride 
 Denies that justice which the law asks for them. 
 Reverence his power; for when the sufferer 
 
 groans 
 
 With pangs unpitied, the fix'd wrath of Jove, 
 Protector of the suppliant, burns severe. 
 
 Pel. If by your country's laws .Egyptus' sons, 
 As next of blood, assert a right in you. 
 Who should oppose them ? It behoves thee then 
 By your own laws to prove such claim unjust. 
 
 CiiOR.^ Ah never may I be perforce a thrall 
 
 To man ! By heaven-directed flight I break 
 The wayward plan of these detested nuptials. 
 Arm justice on thy side, and with her aid 
 Judge with that sanctity the Gods demand. 
 
 Pel. Mo easy province : make not me your judge. 
 Great though my power, it is not mine to act, 
 1 told thee so, without my people's voice 
 Assenting ; lest, if ill arise, they say 
 "Rash-judging king! thou hast undone thy 
 country." 
 
 Ghor. Dehberate then with prudent care : 
 To thy counsels take with thee 
 Heaven-commercing piety, 
 
 And be stedfast justice near. 
 
 Hark ! methinks I hear them say, 
 Do not, mighty king, betray 
 
 Wretched exiles wand'ring far. 
 
 See me not with ruffi'^an hand, 
 Outraged at this shrine, profaned, 
 
 Learn what boist'rous man may dare. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 See me not, with ruffled vest 
 Rent unseemly from my breast. 
 Loose my tresses waving round, 
 
 Bridled with this golden brede, 
 Led, like a reluctant steed, 
 From the Gods that guard this ground. 
 See each hallowed image here. 
 And the awful powers revere : 
 At thy feet thy suppliant laid. 
 Mighty monarch hear and aid ! 
 And knovv^, to thee, thy house, thy rising race 
 Impartial justice shall repay the deed ; 
 With glory's radiant crown thy virtues grace. 
 And righteous Jove shall sanctify the meed. 
 Pel. Well ; I have paused and pondered ; but each 
 thought 
 
 Tells me the fluctuating tide perforce 
 Will drive me on a war with these, or those : 
 And, like a ship with all its anchors out, 
 I must abide the storm : nor will this end 
 Without calamity, and loss, and woe. 
 Chor. Hear the last words of desperate modesty. 
 Seest thou these braided zones that bind our 
 robes ? 
 
 Pel. Whatwould thy words intend? Explain thyself. 
 Chor. If honour shall not guard this female train — 
 Pel. How can these binding zones secure your 
 safety ? 
 
 Chor. Hanging new trophies on these images. 
 Pel. Mysterious are thy words ; speak plainly to 
 me. 
 
 Chor. To tell thee plainly then, I mean ourselves. 
 Pel. I hear the language of an anguished heart. 
 Chor. Be sure of that ; I speak our firm resolves. 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF /ESCHYLUS. 271 
 
 Pel. On every side inevitable ills 
 
 Surround me, like a flood whose dang'rous 
 surge 
 
 Drives me into a vast and gulfy sea, 
 Where no kind harbour shelters from the storm. 
 Should I not yield you refuge, thou hast named 
 A deed of horror not to be surpassed : 
 If with iEgyptus' sons, whose veins are rich 
 With kindred blood, before our walls I try 
 The chance of war, what else, but bitter loss 
 Can be th' event, when in a woman's cause 
 Men shed their warm blood on th' embattled 
 plain ? 
 
 Yet strong constraint compels me to revere 
 The wrath of Jove, whose hospitable power 
 Protects the suppliant, awfully severe. 
 And thou, age-honoured father of these virgins, 
 Take in thy hands these boughs, place them 
 
 with speed 
 On other altars of our country Gods ; 
 That all the citizens may see the signs 
 Of your arrival ; but of me be sure 
 Speak not a word : for this free people love 
 To tax authority with blame. 
 Chor. For him 
 
 Thou hast ordered well ; but what becomes of 
 
 me ? 
 
 Pel. Seest thou that unfenced grove ? Take shelter 
 there. 
 
 Chor. How should th' unconsecrated grove protect 
 me ? 
 
 Pel. Let them have wings, we leave you not their 
 prey. 
 
 Chor. Be all thy words, be all thy actions happy ! 
 
£78 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Pel. Your father will not long be absent from you. 
 Meanwhile will I persuade the assembled 
 people, 
 
 If haply I may move them, to receive you 
 With gen'rous pity : him will I instruct 
 How best t' address his speech. Await th' 
 event, 
 
 And supplicate the Gods whose guardian power 
 Is worshipped here to grant your hearts' warm 
 wish. 
 
 This done, I will return ; and may persuasion 
 Hang on his tongue, and wait upon my steps. 
 Chor. To whom, for justice when I raise the strain, 
 To whom, save Jove, should I complain ? 
 Great, awful author of our ancient line, 
 
 Creative parent, independent lord, 
 Disposer of the world, righteous, benign. 
 
 Sovereign, above the highest high adored ; 
 Whene'er he deigns to grace some favoured 
 head. 
 
 Easy alike to him the will, the word, the deed. 
 
 Danaus, Chorus. 
 
 Dan. Be of good courage, daughters ; a decree, 
 Such as you wish, this gen'rous state has passed, 
 
 Chor. Dear to my soul, with grateful tidings fraught, 
 Hail, reverend parent! But inform us how 
 Passed the decree ; what numbers favoured us ? 
 
 Dan. Not one discordant voice jarred in their coun- 
 cils. 
 
 The fire of youth glowed in these aged veins, 
 When the whole people their uplifted hands 
 Waved in the air, to witness their assent 
 That we might be permitted here to dwell 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF ^SCHYLUS. 279 
 
 Free, irreclaimable, inviolate : 
 That none presume, native or stranger, hence 
 To lead us ; and should force be used, whoe'er 
 Assists not, him the public sentence drives, 
 With infamy, an exile from his country. 
 This the Pelasgian king advised, to us 
 Benevolent, declaring the fierce wrath 
 Of Jove, protector of the suppliant, 
 Could not permit this firm and prosp'rous state. 
 To flourish ; but such double insult, offered 
 To every law of hospitality 
 Sacred and civil, would with twofold vengeance 
 Draw ruin on it. When the Argives heard 
 These arguments of winning eloquence. 
 Impatient of the usual forms, they gave 
 With hands uplifted their concordant suffrage 
 Friendly to us : thus Jove decreed th' event. 
 Chor. Come then, my sisters, for these pious Ar- 
 gives 
 
 Breathe we some pious prayer, whose solemn 
 strain 
 
 May reach the ear of Jove. And thou, Su- 
 preme, 
 
 God of the stranger, hear a stranger's voice 
 Sincere, unblamed ; and ratify our vows ! 
 Stro. Ye progeny of Jove, whose awful power 
 In yon ethereal plain 
 Fixes the glories of your reign, 
 Bend from your radiant seats your ear, 
 Attentive to a virgin's prayer, 
 And on this gen'rous race your choicest bless- 
 ings shower. 
 Never may war, whose wanton rage 
 The thund'ring falchion joys to wield, 
 
280 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Joys, when embattled hosts engage, 
 
 To mow with ruthless arm the field ; 
 Never with rude discordant roar 
 Affright the echoes of this shore ; 
 Never with hostile hand 
 
 Wave round these glitt'ring towers the blazing 
 brand. 
 
 Soft-eyed humanity dwells here, 
 That melting to the suppliant's tear 
 
 Asserts our hopeless cause ; 
 And spotless piety, whose breast 
 Humbly reveres Jove's high behest, 
 
 And hospitable laws. 
 Your sacred spirit fires the free 
 To form the gen'rous, bold decree, 
 
 Man's rude force to disdain ; 
 To cast on heaven's dread lord their eye. 
 The terrors of his vengeance fly. 
 
 Nor scorn our female train : 
 He o'er the impious roof his thunder rolls, 
 And awful in his wrath appals the guilty souls. 
 Antis. Our kindred train, suppliants of holy 
 
 Jove, 
 
 Pelasgia's sons revere, 
 
 And make our wrongs their gen'rous care. 
 For this at every hallowed shrine 
 Propitious be each power divine ; 
 
 For this beneath this solemn-shaded grove 
 Our raptured invocations rise, 
 
 And Heaven shall hear the pious strains. 
 Ah ! never may malignant skies 
 
 Blast the fresh glories of your plains : 
 Nor pestilence with pois'nous breath. 
 Waste your thin towns with livid death : 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF iESCHYLUS. 
 
 281 
 
 Nor war's stern power deface 
 The blooming flowers that youth's fair season 
 grace. 
 
 Still may your chiefs, a reverend band, 
 Around the hallowed altars stand ; 
 
 And ardent for the state 
 Pour the warm vow to Heaven's high Lord, 
 The great, the just ; whose will adored 
 
 With hoar law tempers fate *. 
 Still rise new chiefs, a lengthened line, 
 (Kind on their birth, Diana, shine !) 
 
 The brave, the wise, the good : 
 But never discord's dread alarms 
 Your madd'ning cities rouse to arms, 
 
 And stain your streets with blood : 
 Nor pale disease her sickly dews display. 
 Touched by thy golden beams, ambrosial fount 
 of day. 
 
 Epod. Fav'ring seasons grace the year. 
 
 Crown with rich fruits your cultured plains ; 
 
 The joyful flock, the sportive steer, 
 Bound wanton o'er your wide domains. 
 Each immortal show'ring treasures, 
 Wake the soft melodious measures ; 
 Let the chastely-warbled lay 
 The muses' rapture-breathing shell obey. 
 Firm may the honours of your laws remain, 
 And prudence in your counsels reign : 
 Just to yourselves and to the stranger kind, 
 May peace to sleep consign the bloodless 
 sword ; 
 
 * Hoar law is an expression significant of the purity of 
 justice, to \vhich the cana fides of the Latins corresponds. 
 
282 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Each honour to your country's Gods assigned; 
 Each laurelled shrine with hallowed rites 
 adored ; 
 
 The parent's hoary head with reverence crown- 
 
 View this, ye righteous Gods, and stretch pro- 
 tection round ! 
 
 Danaus, Chorus. 
 
 Dan. I like this well ; wise are these votive strains. 
 But though your father brings unw^elcome 
 tidings. 
 
 New, and unlook'd for, fear not you th' event. 
 From yon high mound, where first you sup- 
 pliant stood, 
 I saw a ship, I mark'd its waving streamer, 
 Its swelling sails, and all its gallant trim : 
 Its prow with heedful eye observes its way, 
 Obedient to the helm that guides behind ; 
 Unfriendly sight ! the sailors too I mark'd, 
 Conspicuous in white robes their sable limbs, 
 Th' attendant vessels, proudly riding, sweep 
 The watery way ; she, foremost, near the land 
 Now furls her sails, and all the shouting crew^ 
 Bend to the eager oar. Behoves you now 
 Sedate and sage attention, nor neglect 
 These Gods. I haste to bring their gen'rous 
 aid, 
 
 The patrons, the protectors of your cause. 
 Haply some herald may be sent, w^ith charge 
 To claim you as their prize : it shall not be : 
 Argos, I know, will arm in your defence. 
 Chor. Fatally fierce they are, and on their pride 
 Destruction waits, and never-sated war, 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 2SS 
 
 These sons of old Egyptus, not to thee 
 Unknown : E'en now their firm-compacted ships 
 Black o'er the angry deep insulting ride, 
 Eager to land their sable-tinctured hosts. 
 Dan. And they shall find a host, whose toil-strung 
 arms 
 
 Relax not in the sun's meridian heat. 
 Chor. Forsake me not, ah, leave me not alone, 
 I pray thee, father ; a forsaken woman 
 Is very weak : their wily, faithless minds. 
 Like obscene birds, spare not the hallow'd 
 altar. 
 
 Dan. Now fair befal our cause, if their mad rage. 
 Insulting thee, my child, insults the Gods. 
 
 Chor. Neither these tridents, nor this solemn scene 
 Will awe them to refrain their impious hands. 
 They scorn the Gods, and with unhallowed force 
 Rush madly on, like savage, rav'ning dogs. 
 
 Stro. Oh might I sit sublime in air. 
 
 Where wat'ry clouds the freezing snows pre- 
 pare ! 
 
 Or on a rock whose threat'ning brow, 
 Th' aerial vulture's unreach'd seat, 
 In solitary state 
 Frowns ruinous o'er th' affrighted w^aste below : 
 Roll'd headlong down its rugged side, 
 
 A mangled carcass let me lie. 
 Ere dragg'd a pale, unwilling bride, 
 Victim to sad necessity ; 
 And my indignant heart 
 
 Feel the keen wounds of sorrow's tort'ring dart. 
 Antis. Throw me, ere that detested day. 
 
 To prowling dogs and rav'nous birds a prey. 
 
284 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 No form of death affrights me now : 
 O thou, assigned the wretch's friend, 
 To bid his miseries end. 
 And in oblivion's balm to steep his woe ; 
 Come, gentle death, ere that sad hour 
 Which drags me to the nuptial bed ; 
 And let me find in thy soft power 
 A refuge from the force I dread ; 
 O spread thy sable cloud, 
 And in its vmpierced gloom our sorrows shroud! 
 Epod. Higher let your voices rise, 
 
 And swell the choral descant to the skies, 
 Notes of such a lofty vein 
 That Gods may listen to the solemn strain ! 
 Eternal Sire, from Heaven's high throne, 
 If thy indignant eye-balls glow 
 With vengeance at foul deeds below. 
 Look down, thou Sovereign of the World, look 
 down : 
 
 iEgyptus' sons, a ruffian race. 
 Our flying footsteps chase ; 
 And on our trembling, weeping band, 
 Advance to lay their vengeful hand : 
 
 Extend thy golden scales, 
 
 For without thee what mortal worth avails ? 
 By land, by sea. 
 They seek their prey ; 
 
 Oh, ere they seize it, may the ruffians die ! 
 
 Again I raise the mournful cry. 
 
 They come, they come, the haughty foes : 
 These are but preludes to my woes. 
 To yon strong rampires bend your flight ; 
 By sea, by land they rush severe, 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 28.5 
 
 And with their stern and threat'ning air, 
 The softness of our sex affright. 
 Look down, thou Sovereign of the World, and 
 save ! 
 
 Enter the Egyptian heralds 
 
 Herald, Chorus. 
 
 Her. Hence to the ship, hence with your utmost 
 speed. 
 
 Chor. No, never, never ; slay, stab me to death, 
 Rend from these mangled limbs my bleeding 
 head. 
 
 Her. Hence, I command you, to the rolling vessel 
 Instantly hence : if one presume to linger, 
 I pay no reverence to your crisped locks, 
 This hand perforce shall drag her by her 
 tresses. 
 
 Chor. Ye rulers of the city. Force o'erpow'rs me. 
 Her. You shall see many rulers, doubt not, soon, 
 
 i^lgyptus' sons ; no anarchy is here. 
 Chor. Unlook'd for ruin comes, O king, upon us. 
 Her. I must use force, I see, and pluck you hence 
 
 Dragg'd by the locks, since my words move 
 you not. 
 
 Pelasgus, Herald, Chorus. 
 
 Pel. Whence these outrageous deeds ? How dares 
 thy pride 
 
 Offer this insult to the land, where dwell 
 Pelasgian men? Or didst thou deem that 
 women 
 
 Alone inhabit here ? Thy savage acts, 
 Barbarian, touch the dignity of Greece. 
 
286 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS, 
 
 Learn thy mistake then, and thine high offence, 
 Her. a stranger, here I found whom I had lost ; 
 These lead I hence ; and who shall take them 
 from me ? 
 
 Pel. Dare but to touch them, dearly shalt thou rue 
 it. 
 
 Her. Is this your hospitality to strangers ? 
 
 Pel. I owe the ruffian none, that robs the Gods. 
 
 Her. Then let me speak, and plainly ; it becomes 
 A herald's office to speak all things plain. 
 Many shall shed their dear blood in the dust, 
 Many lie low on earth, and bite the ground, 
 Ere you shall see this dreadful quarrel end. 
 
 Pel. Hear then what honour prompts, what justice 
 dictates. 
 
 And bear it to the partners of thy voyage. 
 If these approve, if their free will incline 
 them. 
 
 Lead them, if gentle words win their assent. 
 This firm decree the suffrage of the state 
 Has render'd sacred, not by force to yield 
 A train of females ; this resolve, be sure 
 Is strongly fixed, and never can be shaken. 
 Though not engraved on tablets, nor enrolled 
 In seal-stamped volumes, my free voice de- 
 clares it 
 
 In words of plainest import. Take thy answer ; 
 Hence from my sight, with thy best speed be 
 gone. 
 
 Her. Know then a rising war awaits thy choice ; 
 
 Valour and conquest crown the helms of men. 
 Pel. You shall be met by men, whose lively blood 
 
 Dull draughts of barley wine have never 
 clogged. 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF ^SCHYLUS. 
 
 287 
 
 Now virgins, with your train of faithful 
 friends, 
 
 Dismiss your fears ; enter this tQwn, whose 
 walls 
 
 Strong-built, and crowned with many a bul- 
 wark, lift 
 
 Their towered heads impregnable : within 
 This state has many structures ; nor is mine 
 A small or lonely dwelling ; such a house. 
 Where cheerful numbers live in wealth and 
 splendour. 
 
 May haply please you : if a private mansion, 
 Devoted to your use, be more your wish. 
 The best of these, the most approved, is 
 yours. 
 
 Make your free choice : I will protect you all. 
 Chor. For these thy bounties may the bounteous 
 Gods 
 
 Shower blessings on thy head, thou generous 
 king 
 
 Of brave Pelasgia ! But benevolent 
 Send us our father Danaus, on whose firm 
 And provident counsels we rely. His care. 
 And sage advice is needful, where to choose 
 Our dwelling, our secure retreat. The tongue 
 Of slander is too prompt with wanton malice 
 To wound the stranger : act we then with cau- 
 tion. 
 
 Pel. With honour, lovely virgins, with the voice 
 Of fair-applauding fame amidst our city 
 Shall your appointment be, where'er your father 
 Assigns to each her mansion and attendants. 
 
 Enter Danaus, 
 
288 
 
 GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 Danaus, Chorus. 
 
 Dan. Daughters, it well becomes you to these Ar- 
 
 gives, 
 
 As to th' immortal Gods, to offer vows, 
 
 Libation, sacrifice, and every rite 
 
 Religion knows ; so liberal their protection, 
 
 So readily they lent their friendly ears, 
 
 And favoured all my deeds against these youths, 
 
 These kindred youths, whose headlong pride 
 
 thus haunts you. 
 Behold these spears around, to me assigned 
 An honourable guard, that no rude hand 
 With barbarous rage may lift the secret sword, 
 And with my blood pollute the pious land. 
 Chor. O may the powers of Heaven in all besides 
 Be gracious to us ; in our virgin honour 
 Have confidence : be their high wills un- 
 changed, 
 
 I shall not deviate from my mind's fixed plan. 
 
 No more to Nile's deep floods belong 
 The warbled voice, the raptured song ; 
 
 Our praise Pelasgia's towns demand ; 
 And each fresh fount that loves to lead 
 His humid train through grove, through 
 mead. 
 
 And rolls luxuriance through the land. 
 Virgin Diana, bend thine eye, 
 
 And piteous of a virgin's woes, 
 O save ensnared chastity. 
 
 From the rude touch of hated foes : 
 Nor see thy struggling votaries led 
 Where Venus decks the bed ! 
 
THE SUPPLIANTS OF AESCHYLUS. .^89 
 
 Nor, Queen of Love, shall our mellifluous lays 
 Be silent in thy praise : 
 For thou, next Heaven's imperial queen, 
 In highest grace with Jove art seen. 
 
 And mighty deeds declare thy power ; 
 The passions hear thy soft control ; 
 Thy sweet voice melts the willing soul, 
 
 Enchanted with thy honied lore. 
 Round thee, where'er thou lead'st the way, 
 
 Joyful the frolic Cupids rove : 
 And as their antic sports they play. 
 
 Whisper the harmony of love. 
 But what have I with love or joy ? 
 My peace wild fears annoy. 
 The miseries of flight, pursuit's alarms, 
 And slaughter-threatening arms : 
 Why else the quick, the fav'ring gales 
 Waft o'er the waves their flying sails ? 
 Semich. This is the fixed decree of fate ; 
 
 And thus high Heaven's unbounded Lord, 
 Pronounced th' irrevocable word. 
 And doom'd us to the nuptial state. 
 Chor. Ah, never may his sovereign will 
 
 Me to jEgyptus' sons unite ! 
 Semich. This is to grasp at shadows still. 
 
 And sooth thy soul with vain delight. 
 Chor. Know'st thou his will ? Or has thine eye 
 
 Looked through futurity ? 
 Semich. His mind I dare not scan, immense, pro- 
 found : 
 
 And thou thy wishes bound ; 
 'Gainst Heaven's high will exclaim no more, 
 But in m.ute meekness learn t' adore^ 
 
 u 
 
290 
 
 GREEK DRx\MATlC POETS. 
 
 Chor. Almighty Sire, whose heahng hand 
 Sooth'd thy loved lo's soul to rest, 
 With comfort cheer this sorrowing breast, 
 And save us from this hostile band ! 
 For me through fortune's cloud hope beams 
 her ray, 
 
 And from that cloud grows brightening like 
 the sun ; 
 
 So right succeeding right shall force its way, 
 And the good Gods complete what Greece 
 begun. 
 
 END or THE SUPPLIANTS. 
 
GREEK DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
 291 
 
 We have thus gone through the Seven Tragedies 
 that remain to us of ^Eschylus, in the manner that 
 was proposed. Much has been curtailed from all, 
 and much that in the original is interesting and ex- 
 quisitely beautiful has been omitted, but it is hoped 
 that the volume has been rendered as complete, and 
 as suitable to the taste of English readers, as its na- 
 ture and limits would permit. It may be safely af- 
 firmed, that those who read it with any degree of 
 attention and pleasure, will have a juster notion of 
 the nature and scope of Greek Tragedy, and of the 
 genius of its great founder, than most of those who 
 at much expense of time and pains toil through one 
 of these plays even in the language of iEschylus 
 himself, l>ut presently abandon their task before 
 they have acquired any relish whatever for their 
 author, and just when the study might, if properly 
 pursued, become both useful and very delightful to 
 them. 
 
 Should the present attempt be favourably re~ 
 ceived, it is intended to devote a second volume, on 
 a similar plan, to Sophocles, and a concluding one 
 to Euripides. The Introductions to these volumes 
 will afford opportunity for some inquiry into the 
 history and design of ancient poetry in general, and 
 into the source of that delight which we confessedly 
 receive from Tragedy, as v/ell as some other col- 
 lateral subjects, not altogether unworthy of parti- 
 cular investigation. 
 
 G. Woodfall, Printer, .Viigel Court, Skinner btiect, London. 
 
INTRODUCTIONS to the STUDY of the 
 
 GREEK CLASSIC POETS, for the Use of Young Persons at 
 School or Collecre. By HENRY NELSON COLERIDGE. 
 Post 8vo. 6s. 6d, 
 
 Contents of Part I. — 1. General Introduction. — 2. Homeric 
 Questions. — 3. Life of Homer. — 4. Iliad. — 5. Od3^ssey. — 6. Mar- 
 gites. — 7. Batrachomyomachia. — 8. Hymns. — 9. Hesiod. 
 
 " Mr. Coleridge has done himself infinite credit by this little 
 volutne, which displays striking proofs of judgment, learning, and 
 good taste. It is designed for the use of young persons at school 
 or college ; though, in truth, it may be used with advantage by 
 persons of all ages. The present volume is only the first of a 
 series intended to be put forth from time to time." — Sun. 
 
 *' We sincerely hope that Mr. Coleridge will favour us with a 
 continuation of this work, which he promises.'* — Gents, Mag. 
 
 " The Author of this elegant volume has collected a vast mass 
 of valuable information. To the higher classes of the public 
 schools, and young men of Universities, this volume will be es- 
 pecially valuable ; as it will afford an agreeable relief of light 
 reading to more grave studies, at once instructive and entertain- 
 ing." — Weskijan MeUiodist Mag. Dec. 1830. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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