Aeschylus

“ Dark Fury of hell and of death, the hands of thy kingdom are strong!
⁠By proof have ye learnt it!
⁠At once and as one,
⁠O brothers belovèd,
⁠To death ye were done!
Ye came to the strife of the sword, and behold! ye are both overthrown!
⁠O grievous the tale is,
⁠And grievous their fall,
⁠To the house, to the land,
⁠And to me above all!
Ah God! for the curse that hath come, the sin and the ruin withal!
⁠O children distraught,
⁠Who in madness have died!
⁠Shall ye rest with old kings
⁠In the place of their pride?
Alas for the wrath of your sire if he findeth you laid by his side! ”

“ Artemis, maiden beloved! the air is distraught with the spears,
And whither doth destiny drive us, and where is the goal of our fears?
The blast of the terrible stones on the ridge of our wall is not stayed,
At the gates is the brazen clash of the bucklers—Apollo to aid!
Thou too, O daughter of Zeus, who guidest the wavering fray
To the holy decision of fate, Athena! be with us to-day!
Come down to the sevenfold gates and harry the foemen away!
O gods and O sisters of gods, our bulwark and guard! we beseech
That ye give not our war-worn hold to a rabble of alien speech! ”

“ With sin, a bitter fruit of murderous enmities!
Eteocles
Yea, my own father's fateful Curse proclaims—
A ghastly presence, and her eyes are dry—
Strike! honour is the prize, not life prolonged!
Chorus
Ah, be not urged of her! for none shall dare
To call thee coward, in thy throned estate!
Will not the Fury in her sable pall
Pass outward from these halls, what time the gods
Welcome a votive offering from our hands?
Eteocles
The gods! long since they hold us in contempt,
Scornful of gifts thus offered by the lost!
Why should we fawn and flinch away from doom? ”

“ Mine eyes feel the flash of the sword, the clang is instinct with the spear!
Is thy hand set against us, O Ares, in ruin and wrath to o'erwhelm
Thine own immemorial land, O god of the golden helm?
Look down upon us, we beseech thee, on the land that thou lovest of old,
And ye, O protecting gods, in pity your people behold!
Yea, save us, the maidenly troop, from the doom and despair of the slave,
For the crests of the foemen come onward, their rush is the rush of a wave
Rolled on by the war-god's breath! almighty one, hear us and save
From the grasp of the Argives' might! ”

“ Exit Eteocles, etc. Enter the
Chorus of Maidens.⁠
Chorus
I wail in the stress of my terror, and shrill is my cry of despair.
The foemen roll forth from their camp as a billow, and onward they bear!
Their horsemen are swift in the forefront, the dust rises up to the sky,
A signal, though speechless, of doom, a herald more clear than a cry!
Hoof-trampled, the land of my love bears onward the din to mine ears.
As a torrent descending a mountain, it thunders and echoes and nears!
The doom is unloosened and cometh! O kings and O queens of high Heaven,
Prevail that it fall not upon us! ”

“ Fruit of fulfilment lie in Loxias' word.
He speaketh not, unless to speak avails!
Yet, for more surety, we will post a man,
Strong Lasthenes, as warder of the gate,
Stern to the foeman; he hath age's skill,
Mated with youthful vigour, and an eye
Forward, alert; swift too his hand, to catch
The fenceless interval 'twixt shield and spear!
Yet man's good fortune lies in hand of Heaven.
Chorus
Unto our loyal cry, ye gods, give ear!
Save, save the city! turn away the spear,
⁠Send on the foemen fear! ”

“ O dark and all-prevailing ill,
⁠That broods o'er Oedipus and all his line,
Numbing my heart with mortal chill!
⁠Ah me, this song of mine,
Which, Thyad-like, I woke, now falleth still,
⁠Or only tells of doom,
⁠And echoes round a tomb!
Dead are they, dead! in their own blood they lie—
Ill-omened the concent that hails our victory!
The curse a father on his children spake
⁠Hath faltered not, nor failed!
Nought, Laïus! ”

“ Against him, send brave heart and hand of might,
For the god-lover is man's fiercest foe.
Eteocles
Out on the chance that couples mortal men,
Linking the just and impious in one!
In every issue, the one curse is this—
Companionship with men of evil heart!
A baneful harvest, let none gather it!
The field of sin is rank, and brings forth death.
At whiles a righteous man who goes aboard
With reckless mates, a horde of villainy,
Dies by one death with that detested crew ”

“ Eteocles
Ah, may they meet the doom they think to bring—
They and their impious vaunts—from those on high!
So should they sink, hurled down to deepest death!
This foe, at least, by thee Arcadian styled,
Is faced by one who bears no braggart sign,
But his hand sees to smite, where blows avail—
Actor, own brother to Hyperbius!
He will not let a boast without a blow
Stream through our gates and nourish our despair,
Nor give him way who on his hostile shield
Bears the brute image of the loathly Sphinx! ”

“ O thou true heart, O child of Oedipus,
Be not, in wrath, too like the man whose name
Murmurs an evil omen! 'Tis enough
That Cadmus' clan should strive with Argos' host,
For blood there is that can atone that stain!
But—brother upon brother dealing death—
Not time itself can expiate the sin!
Eteocles
If man find hurt, yet clasp his honour still,
'Tis well; the dead have honour, nought beside. ”

“ Giving and taking death in close embrace,
Or, if thou 'scapest, flinging upon thee,
As robber of his honour and his home,
The doom of exile such as he has borne.
So clamours he and so invokes the gods
Who guard his race and home, to hear and heed
The curse that sounds in Polynices' name!
He bears a round shield, fresh from forge and fire,
And wrought upon it is a twofold sign—
For lo, a woman leads decorously
The figure of a warrior wrought in gold ”

“ As a steed panting grimly on his bit,
Held in and chafing for the trumpet's bray!
Whom wilt thou set against him? when the gates
Of Proetus yield, who can his rush repel?
Eteocles
To me, no blazon on a foeman's shield
Shall e'er present a fear! such pointed threats
Are powerless to wound; his plumes and bells,
Without a spear, are snakes without a sting. ”

“ That, by the might of Zeus, a bolt of flame
In more than semblance shall descend on him.
Against his vaunts, though reckless, I have set,
To make assurance sure, a warrior stern—
Strong Polyphontes, fervid for the fray;—
A sturdy bulwark, he, by grace of Heaven
And favour of his champion Artemis!
Say on, who holdeth the next gate in ward?
Chorus
Perish the wretch whose vaunt affronts our home! ”

“ Re-enter Eteocles.
Eteocles
Hark to my question, things detestable!
Is this aright and for the city's weal,
And helpful to our army thus beset,
That ye before the statues of our gods
Should fling yourselves, and scream and shriek your fears?
Immodest, uncontrolled! Be this my lot—
Never in troublous nor in peaceful days
To dwell with aught that wears a female form!
Where womankind has power, no man can house,
Where womankind feeds panic, ruin rules
Alike in house and city! ”

“ Lo, from one blood they sprang, and in one blood they lie!
⁠A grievous arbiter was given the twain—
⁠The stranger from the northern main,
⁠The sharp, dividing sword,
⁠Fresh from the forge and fire
⁠The War-god treacherous gave ill award
And brought their father's curse to a fulfilment dire!
⁠They have their portion—each his lot and doom,
⁠Given from the gods on high!
⁠Yea, the piled wealth of fatherland, for tomb,
⁠Shall underneath them lie!
⁠Alas, alas! with flowers of fame and pride
⁠Your home ye glorified ”

“ Were not that grace of gods? ay, ay—methinks,
When cities fall, the gods go forth from them!
Chorus
Ah, let me die, or ever I behold
⁠The gods go forth, in conflagration dire!
The foemen's rush and raid, and all our hold
⁠Wrapt in the burning fire!
Eteocles
Cry not on Heaven, in impotent debate! ”

“ Your flying feet, and rumour of your fears,
Have spread a soulless panic on our walls,
And they without do go from strength to strength,
And we within make breach upon ourselves!
Such fate it brings, to house with womankind. ”

“ Is plucked by the foe in his might, not culled in the bridal bower!
Alas for the hate and the horror—how say it?—less hateful by far
Is the doom to be slain by the sword, hewn down in the carnage of war!
For wide, ah! wide is the woe when the foeman has mounted the wall ”

“ But when he learned what he had wrought unwittingly, he fell into despair, and the queen slew herself. But before Oedipus died, he laid a curse upon his male children, Eteocles and Polynices, that they should make even division of the kingdom by the sword; and it fell out even so, for the two brothers strove together for the inheritance, and Polynices brought an army, from Argos, against Eteocles; and the brothers fought, and fell each by the other's hand, and the curse was fulfilled.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Eteocles. ”

“ To wreak upon the sons of Oedipus
Their grandsire's wilfulness of long ago.
Chorus
What further woefulness besets our home?
The Spy
The home stands safe—but ah, the princes twain—
Chorus
Who? what of them? I am distraught with fear.
The Spy
Hear now, and mark! the sons of Oedipus—
Chorus
Ah, my prophetic soul! I feel their doom. ”