Lines 4671–5102

Cho. A murder there was which Argolis
Holds in remembrance, Hellas through,
As, at that time, best and famousest:
Of those, the daughters of Danaos slew.
A murder indeed was that! but this
Outstrips it, straight to the goal has pressed.
I am able to speak of a murder done
To the hapless Zeus-born offspring, too--
Proknè's son, who had but one--
Or a sacrifice to the Muses, say
Rather, who Itus sing alway,
Her single child! But thou, the sire
Of children three--O thou consuming fire!--
In one outrageous fate hast made them all expire!
And this outrageous fate--
What groan, or wail, or deadmen's dirge,
Or choric dance of Haides shall I urge
The Muse to celebrate?

Woe! woe! behold!
The portalled palace lies unrolled,
This way and that way, each prodigious fold!
Alas for me! these children, see,
Stretched, hapless group, before their father--he
The all-unhappy, who lies sleeping out
The murder of his sons, a dreadful sleep!
And bonds, see, all about,--
Rope-tangle, ties and tether,--these
Tightenings around the body of Herakles
To the stone columns of the house made fast!

But--like a bird that grieves
For callow nestlings some rude hand bereaves--
See, here, a bitter journey overpast,
The old man--all too late--is here at last!

Amph. Silently, silently, aged Kadmeians!
Will ye not suffer my son, diffused
Yonder, to slide from his sorrows in sleep?

Cho. And thee, old man, do I, groaning, weep,
And the children too, and the head there--used
Of old to the wreaths and paians!

Amph. Farther away! Nor beat the breast,
Nor wail aloud, nor rouse from rest
The slumberer--asleep, so best!

Cho. Ah me--what a slaughter!

Amph. Refrain--refrain!
Ye will prove my perdition!

Cho. Unlike water,
Bloodshed rises from earth again!

Amph. Do I bid you bate your breath, in vain--
Ye elders? Lament in a softer strain!
Lest he rouse himself, burst every chain,
And bury the city in ravage--bray
Father and house to dust away!

Cho. I cannot forbear--I cannot forbear!

Amph. Hush! I will learn his breathings: there!
I will lay my ears close.

Cho. What, he sleeps?

Amph. Ay,--sleeps! A horror of slumber keeps
The man who has piled
On wife and child
Death and death, as he shot them down
With clang o'the bow.

Cho. Wail--

Amph. Even so!

Cho. --The fate of the children--

Amph. Triple woe!

Cho. --Old man, the fate of thy son!

Amph. Hush, hush! Have done!
He is turning about!
He is breaking out!
Away! I steal
And my body conceal,
Before he arouse,
In the depths of the house!

Cho. Courage! The Night
Maintains her right
On the lids of thy son there, sealed from sight!

Amph. See, see! To leave the light
And, wretch that I am, bear one last ill,
I do not avoid; but if he kill
Me, his own father, and devise
Beyond the present miseries
A misery more ghastly still--
And to haunt him, over and above
Those here who, as they used to love,
Now hate him, what if he have with these
My murder, the worst of Erinues?

Cho. Then was the time to die, for thee,
When ready to wreak in the full degree
Vengeance on those
Thy consort's foes
Who murdered her brothers! glad, life's close,
With the Taphioi down,
And sacked their town
Clustered about with a wash of sea!

Amph. Tonight--to flight!
Away from the house, troop off, old men!
Save yourselves out of the maniac's sight!
He is rousing himself right up: and then,
Murder on murder heaping anew,
He will revel in blood your city through!

Cho. O Zeus, why hast, with such unmeasured hate,
Hated thy son, whelmed in this sea of woes?

Her. Ha,--
In breath indeed I am--see things I ought--
Æther, and earth, and these the sunbeam-shafts!
But then--some billow and strange whirl of sense
I have fallen into! and breathings hot I breathe--
Smoked upwards, not the steady work from lungs.
See now! Why, bound--at moorings like a ship,--
About my young breast and young arm, to this
Stone piece of carved work broke in half, do I
Sit, have my rest in corpses' neighborhood?
Strewn on the ground are wingèd darts, and bow
Which played, my brother-shieldman, held in hand,--
Guarded my side, and got my guardianship!
I cannot have gone back to Haides--twice.
Begun Eurustheus' race I ended thence?
But I nor see the Sisupheian stone,
Nor Plouton, nor Demeter's sceptred maid!
I am struck witless sure! Where can I be?
Ho there! what friend of mine is near or far--
Some one to cure me of bewilderment?
For naught familiar do I recognize.

Amph. Old friends, shall I go close to these my woes?

Cho. Ay, and let me too,--nor desert your ills!

Her. Father, why weepest thou, and buriest up
Thine eyes, aloof so from thy much-loved son?

Amph. O child!--for, faring badly, mine thou art!

Her. Do I fare somehow ill, that tears should flow?

Amph. Ill,--would cause any god who bore to groan!

Her. That's boasting, truly! still, you state no hap.

Amph. For, thyself seest--if in thy wits again.

Her. Heyday! How riddlingly that hint returns!

Amph. Well, I am trying--art thou sane and sound!

Her. Say if thou lay'st aught strange to my life's charge!

Amph. If thou no more art Haides-drunk,--I tell!

Her. I bring to mind no drunkenness of soul.

Amph. Shall I unbind my son, old men, or what?

Her. And who was binder, tell!--not that, my deed!

Amph. Mind that much of misfortune--pass the rest!

Her. Enough! from silence, I nor learn nor wish.

Amph. O Zeus, dost witness here throned Heré's work?

Her. But have I had to bear aught hostile thence?

Amph. Let be the goddess--bury thine own guilt!

Her. Undone! What is the sorrow thou wilt say?

Amph. Look! See the ruins of thy children here!

Her. Ah me! What sight do wretched I behold?

Amph. Unfair fight, son, this fight thou fastenedst
On thine own children!

Her. What fight? Who slew these?

Amph. Thou and thy bow, and who of gods was cause.

Her. How say'st? What did I? Ill-announcing sire!

Amph. --Go mad! Thou askest a sad clearing up!

Her. And am I also murderer of my wife?

Amph. All the work here was just one hand's work--thine!

Her. Ai ai--for groans encompass me--a cloud!

Amph. For these deeds' sake do I begroan thy fate!

Her. Did I break up my house or dance it down?

Amph. I know just one thing--all 's a woe with thee!

Her. But where did the craze catch me, where destroy?

Amph. When thou didst cleanse hands at the altar-flame.

Her. Ah me! why is it then I save my life--
Proved murderer of my dearest ones, my boys?
Shall not I rush to the rock-level's leap,
Or, darting sword through breast and all, become
My children's blood-avenger? or, this flesh
Burning away with fire, so thrust away
The infamy, which waits me there, from life?
Ah, but,--a hindrance to my purposed death,
Theseus arrives, my friend and kinsman, here!
Eyes will be on me! my child-murder-plague
In evidence before friends loved so much!
O me, what shall I do? Where, taking wing
Or gliding underground, shall I seek out
A solitariness from misery?
I will pull night upon my muffled head!
Let this wretch here content him with his curse
Of blood: I would pollute no innocents!

Theseus. I come,--with others who await beside
Asopos' stream, the armed Athenian youth,--
Bring thy son, old man, spear's fight-fellowship!
For a bruit reached the Erechtheidai's town
That, having seized the sceptre of this realm,
Lukos prepares you battle-violence.
So, paying good back,--Herakles began,
Saving me down there,--I have come, old man,
If aught, of my hand or my friends', you want.
What 's here? Why all these corpses on the ground?
Am I perhaps behindhand--come too late
For newer ill? Who killed these children now?
Whose wife was she, this woman I behold?
Boys, at least, take no stand in reach of spear!
Some other woe than war, I chance upon!

Amph. O thou, who sway'st the olive-bearing height!--

Thes. Why hail'st thou me with woeful prelude thus?

Amph. Dire sufferings have we suffered from the gods.

Thes. These boys,--who are they, thou art weeping o'er?

Amph. He gave them birth, indeed, my hapless son!
Begot, but killed them--dared their bloody death.

Thes. Speak no such horror!

Amph. Would I might obey!

Thes. O teller of dread tidings!

Amph. Lost are we--
Lost--flown away from life!

Thes. What sayest thou?
What did he?

Amph. Erring through a frenzy-fit,
He did all, with the arrows dipt in dye
Of hundred-headed Hudra.

Thes. Heré 's strife!
But who is this among the dead, old man?

Amph. Mine, mine, this progeny--the labor-plagued,
Who went with gods once to Phlegruia's plain.
And in the giant-slaying war bore shield!

Thes. Woe--woe! What man was born mischanceful thus!

Amph. Thou couldst not know another mortal man
Toil-weary, more outworn by wanderings.

Thes. And why i' the peploi hides he his sad head?

Amph. Not daring meet thine eye, thy friendliness
And kinship,--nor that children's--blood about!

Thes. But I come to who shared my woe with me!
Uncover him!

Amph. O child, put from thine eyes
The peplos, throw it off, show face to sun!
Woe's weight well matched contends with tears in thee.
I supplicate thee, falling at thy cheek
And knee and hand, and shedding this old tear!
O son, remit the savage lion's mood,
Since to a bloody, an unholy race
Art thou led forth, if thou be resolute
To go on adding ill to ill, my child!

Thes. Let me speak! Thee, who sittest--seated woe--
I call upon to show thy friends thine eye!
For there 's no darkness has a cloud so black
May hide thy misery thus absolute.
Why, waving hand, dost sign me--murder 's done?
Lest a pollution strike me, from thy speech?
Naught care I to--with thee, at least--fare ill:
For I had joy once! Then,--soul rises to,--
When thou didst save me from the dead to light!
Friends' gratitude that tastes old age, I loathe,
And him who likes to share when things look fine,
But, sail along with friends in trouble--no!
Arise, uncover thine unhappy head!
Look on us! Every man of the right race
Bears what, at least, the gods inflict, nor shrinks.

Her. Theseus, hast seen this match--my boys with me?

Thes. I heard of, now I see the ills thou sign'st.

Her. Why then hast thou displayed my head to sun?

Thes. Why? mortals bring no plague on aught divine!

Her. Fly, O unhappy, this my impious plague!

Thes. No plague of vengeance flits to friends from friends.

Her. I praise thee! But I helped thee,--that is truth.

Thes. And I, advantaged then, now pity thee.

Her. --The pitiable,--my children's murderer!

Thes. I mourn for thy sake, in this altered lot.

Her. Hast thou found others in still greater woe?

Thes. Thou, from earth, touchest heaven, one huge distress!

Her. Accordingly, I am prepared to die.

Thes. Think'st thou thy threats at all import the gods?

Her. Gods please themselves: to gods I give their like.

Thes. Shut thy mouth, lest big words bring bigger woe!

Her. I am full fraught with ills--no stowing more!

Thes. Thou wilt do--what, then? Whither moody borne?

Her. Dying, I go below earth whence I came.

Thes. Thou hast used words of--what man turns up first!

Her. While thou, being outside sorrow, schoolest me.

Thes. The much-enduring Herakles talks thus?--

Her. Not the so much-enduring: measure's past!

Thes. --Mainstay to mortals, and their mighty friend?

Her. They nowise profit me: but Heré rules.

Thes. Hellas forbids thou shouldst ineptly die.

Her. But hear, then, how I strive by arguments
Against thy teachings! I will ope thee out
My life--past, present--as unlivable.
First, I was born of this man, who had slain
His mother's aged sire, and, sullied so,
Married Alkmené, she who gave me birth.
Now, when the basis of a family
Is not laid right, what follows needs must fall;
And Zeus, whoever Zeus is, formed me foe
To Heré (take not thou offence, old man!
Since father, in Zeus' stead, account I thee)
And, while I was at suck yet, frightful snakes
She introduced among my swaddling-clothes,--
That bedfellow of Zeus!--to end me so.
But when I gained the youthful garb of flesh,
The labors I endured--what need to tell?
What lions ever, or three-bodied brutes,
Tuphons or giants, or the four-legg'd swarms
Of Kentaur-battle, did not I end out?
And that hound, headed all about with heads
Which cropped up twice, the Hudra, having slain--
I both went through a myriad other toils
In full drove, and arrived among the dead
To convoy, as Eurustheus bade, to light
Haides' three-headed dog and doorkeeper.
But then I,--wretch,--dared this last labor--see!
Slew my sons, keystone-coped my house with ills,
To such a strait I come! nor my dear Thebes
Dare I inhabit,--and, suppose I stay?
Into what fane or festival of friends
Am I to go? My curse scarce courts accost!
Shall I seek Argos? How, if fled from home?
But say,--I hurry to some other town!
And there they eye me, as notorious now,--
Kept by sharp tongue-taunts under lock and key--
"Is not this he, Zeus' son, who murdered once
Children and wife? Let him go rot elsewhere!"
To any man renowned as happy once,
Reverses are a grave thing; but to whom
Evil is old acquaintance, there 's no hurt
To speak of, he and misery are twins.
To this degree of woe I think to come:
For earth will utter voice forbidding me
To touch the ground, and sea--to pierce the wave,
The river-springs--to drink, and I shall play
Ixion's part quite out, the chained and wheeled!
And best of all will be, if so I 'scape
Sight from one man of those Hellenes,--once
I lived among, felicitous and rich!
Why ought I then to live? What gain accrues
From good-for-nothing, wicked life I lead?
In fine, let Zeus' brave consort dance and sing,
Stamp foot, the Olumpian Zeus' own sandal-trick!
What she has willed, that brings her will to pass--
The foremost man of Hellas pedestalled,
Up, over, and down whirling! Who would pray
To such a goddess?--that, begrudging Zeus
Because he loved a woman, ruins me--
Lover of Hellas, faultless of the wrong!

Thes. This strife is from no other of the gods
Than Zeus' wife; rightly apprehend, as well,
Why, to no death--thou meditatest now--
I would persuade thee, but to bear thy woes!
None, none of mortals boasts a fate unmixed,
Nor gods--if poets' teaching be not false.
Have not they joined in wedlock against law
With one another? not, for sake of rule,
Branded their sires in bondage? Yet they house,
All the same, in Olumpos, carry heads
High there, notorious sinners though they be!
What wilt thou say, then, if thou, mortal-born,
Bearest outrageously fate gods endure?
Leave Thebes, now, pay obedience to the law,
And follow me to Pallas' citadel!
There, when thy hands are purified from stain,
House will I give thee, and goods shared alike.
What gifts I hold too from the citizens
For saving twice seven children, when I slew
The Knosian bull, these also give I thee.
And everywhere about the land are plots
Apportioned me: these, named by thine own name,
Shall be henceforward styled by all men--thine,
Thy life-long; but at death, when Haides-bound,
All Athens shall uphold the honored one
With sacrifices, and huge marble heaps:
For that's a fair crown our Hellenes grant
Their people--glory, should they help the brave!
And I repay thee back this grace for thine
That saved me, now that thou art lorn of friends--
Since, when the gods give honor, friends may flit:
For, a god's help suffices, if he please.

Her. Ah me, these words are foreign to my woes!
I neither fancy gods love lawless beds,
Nor, that with chains they bind each other's hands,
Have I judged worthy faith, at any time;
Nor shall I be persuaded--one is born
His fellows' master! since God stands in need--
If he is really God--of naught at all.
These are the poets' pitiful conceits!
But this it was I pondered, though woe-whelmed--
"Take heed lest thou be taxed with cowardice
Somehow in leaving thus the light of day!"
For whoso cannot make a stand against
These same misfortunes, neither could withstand
A mere man's dart, oppose death, strength to strength.
Therefore unto thy city I will go
And have the grace of thy ten thousand gifts.
There! I have tasted of ten thousand toils
As truly--never waived a single one,
Nor let these runnings drop from out my eyes!
Nor ever thought it would have come to this--
That I from out my eyes do drop tears! Well!
At present, as it seems, one bows to fate.
So be it! Old man, thou seest my exile--
Seest, too, me--my children's murderer!
These give thou to the tomb, and deck the dead,
Doing them honor with thy tears--since me
Law does not sanction! Propping on her breast,
And giving them into their mother's arms,
--Reinstitute the sad community
Which I, unhappy, brought to nothingness--
Not by my will! And, when earth hides the dead,
Live in this city!--sad, but, all the same,
Force thy soul to bear woe along with me!
O children, who begat and gave you birth--
Your father--has destroyed you! naught you gain
By those fair deeds of mine I laid you up,
As by main-force I labored glory out
To give you,--that fine gift of fatherhood!
And thee, too, O my poor one, I destroyed.
Not rendering like for like, as when thou kept'st
My marriage-bed inviolate,--those long
Household-seclusions draining to the dregs
Inside my house! O me, my wife, my boys--
And--O myself, how, miserably moved.
Am I disyoked now from both boys and wife!
Oh, bitter those delights of kisses now--
And bitter these my weapons' fellowship!
For I am doubtful whether shall I keep
Or cast away these arrows which will clang
Ever such words out, as they knock my side--
"Us--thou didst murder wife and children with!
Us--child--destroyers--still thou keepest thine!"
Ha, shall I bear them in my arms, then? What
Say for excuse? Yet, naked of my darts
Wherewith I did my bravest, Hellas through,
Throwing myself beneath foot to my foes,
Shall I die basely? No! relinquishment
Of these must never be,--companions once,
We sorrowfully must observe the pact!
In just one thing, co-operate with me
Thy sad friend, Theseus! Go along with him
To Argos, and in concert get arranged
The price my due for bringing there the Hound!
O land of Kadmos, Theban people all,
Shear off your locks, lament one wide lament,
Go to my children's grave and, in one strain,
Lament the whole of us--my dead and me--
Since all together are foredone and lost,
Smitten by Heré's single stroke of fate!