Aeschylus

“ For not forgetful is the high gods' doom
⁠Against the sons of carnage: all too long
Seems the unjust to prosper and be strong,
⁠Till the dark Furies come,
And smite with stern reversal all his home,
⁠Down into dim obstruction—he is gone,
And help and hope among the lost is none.
O'er him who vaunteth an exceeding fame,
⁠Impends a woe condign;
The vengeful bolt upon his eyes doth flame,
⁠Sped from the hand divine.
This bliss be mine, ungrudged of god, to feel—
⁠To tread no city to the dust,
⁠Nor see my own life thrust
Down to a slave's estate beneath another's heel! ”

“ This attest
When for my death's revenge another dies,
A woman for a woman, and a man
Falls, for a man ill-wedded to his curse.
Grant me this boon—the last before I die.
Chorus.
Brave to the last! I mourn thy doom foreseen.
Cassandra.
Once more one utterance but not of wail,
Though for my death—and then I speak no more.
Sun! thou whose beam I shall not see again,
To thee I cry, Let those whom vengeance calls
To slay their kindred's slayers, quit withal
The death of me, the slave, the fenceless prey. [10]
Ah state of mortal man! in time of weal,
A line, a shadow! ”

“ Apollo and Hermes appear from the innermost shrine.
Apollo.
Lo, I desert thee never: to the end,
Hard at thy side as now, or sundered far,
I am thy guard, and to thine enemies
Implacably oppose me: look on them,
These greedy fiends, beneath my craft subdued!
See, they are fallen on sleep, these beldames old,
Unto whose grim and wizened maidenhood
Nor god nor man nor beast can e'er draw near.
Yea, evil were they born, for evil's doom,
Evil the dark abyss of Tartarus
Wherein they dwell, and they themselves the hate
Of men on earth, and of Olympian gods. ”

“ Re-enter Clytemnestra.
Get thee within thou too, Cassandra, go!
For Zeus to thee in gracious mercy grants
To share the sprinklings of the lustral bowl,
Beside the altar of his guardianship,
Slave among many slaves. What, haughty still?
Step from the car; Alcmena's son, 'tis said,
Was sold perforce and bore the yoke of old.
Ay, hard it is, but, if such fate befal,
'Tis a fair chance to serve within a home
Of ancient wealth and power. An upstart lord,
To whom wealth's harvest came beyond his hope,
Is as a lion to his slaves, in all
Exceeding fierce, immoderate in sway. ”

“ Chorus.
Thou losel soul, was then thy strength too slight
To deal in murder, while a woman's hand,
Staining and shaming Argos and its gods,
Availed to slay him? Ho, if anywhere
The light of life smite on Orestes' eyes,
Let him, returning by some guardian fate,
Hew down with force her paramour and her!
Ægisthus.
How thy word and act shall issue, thou shalt shortly understand.
Chorus.
Up to action, O my comrades! for the fight is hard at hand.
Swift, your right hands to the sword hilt! bare the weapon as for strife—
Ægisthus. ”

“ Electra.
That hath sped thro' mine ear, like a shaft from a bow!
Zeus, Zeus! it is thou who dost send from below
A doom on the desperate doer—ere long
On a mother a father shall visit his wrong.
Chorus.
Be it mine to upraise thro' the reek of the pyre
The chant of delight, while the funeral fire
⁠Devoureth the corpse of a man that is slain
⁠And a woman laid low!
For who bids me conceal it? out-rending control,
Blows ever the stern blast of hate thro' my soul,
⁠And before me a vision of wrath and of bane
⁠Flits and waves to and fro.
Orestes. ”

“ Her to buy back, in war and blood,
Whom one did wed but many woo'd!
And many, many, by his will,
The last embrace of foes shall feel,
And many a knee in dust be bowed,
And splintered spears on shields ring loud,
Of Trojan and of Greek, before
That iron bridal-feast be o'er!
But as he willed 'tis ordered all,
And woes, by heaven ordained, must fall—
Unsoothed by tears or spilth of wine
Poured forth too late, the wrath divine
Glares vengeance on the flameless shrine. ”

“ Craved the land us who craved it, love for love?
Chorus.
Yea, till my brooding heart moaned out with pain.
Herald.
Whence thy despair, that mars the army's joy?
Chorus.
Sole cure of wrong is silence, saith the saw.
Herald.
Thy kings afar, couldst thou fear other men?
Chorus.
Death had been sweet, as thou didst say but now.
Herald.
'Tis true; Fate smiles at last. Throughout our toil,
These many years, some chances issued fair,
And some, I wot, were chequered with a curse.
But who, on earth, hath won the bliss of heaven,
Thro' time's whole tenor an unbroken weal? ”

“ Proclaim and usher down my prayer's appeal
Unto the gods below, that they with eyes
Watchful behold these halls, my sire's of old—
And unto Earth, the mother of all things,
And foster-nurse, and womb that takes their seed.
Lo, I that pour these draughts for men now dead,
Call on my father, who yet holds in ruth
Me and mine own Orestes, Father, speak—
How shall thy children rule thine halls again?
Homeless we are and sold; and she who sold
Is she who bore us; and the price she took
Is he who joined with her to work thy death,
Ægisthus, her new lord. ”

“ Chorus.
How like a sleuth-hound questing on the track,
Keen-scented unto blood and death she hies!
Cassandra.
Ah! can the ghostly guidance fail,
Whereby my prophet-soul is onwards led?
Look! for their flesh the spectre-children wail,
Their sodden limbs on which their father fed!
Chorus.
Long since we knew of thy prophetic fame,—
But for those deeds we seek no prophet's tongue.
Cassandra.
God! 'tis another crime—
Worse than the storied woe of olden time,
Cureless, abhorred, that one is plotting here—
A shaming death, for those that should be dear! ”

“ Apollo.
O monsters loathed of all, O scorn of gods,
He that hath bound may loose: a cure there is,
Yea, many a plan that can unbind the chain.
But when the thirsty dust sucks up man's blood
Once shed in death, he shall arise no more.
No chant nor charm for this my Sire hath wrought.
All else there is, he moulds and shifts at will,
Not scant of strength nor breath, whate'er he do.
Chorus.
Think yet, for what acquittal thou dost plead:
He who hath shed a mother's kindred blood,
Shall he in Argos dwell, where dwelt his sire? ”

“ Chorus.
Thee not Apollo nor Athena's strength
Can save from perishing, a castaway
Amid the Lost, where no delight shall meet
Thy soul—a bloodless prey of nether powers,
A shadow among shadows. Answerest thou
Nothing? dost cast away my words with scorn,
Thou, prey prepared and dedicate to me?
Not as a victim slain upon the shrine,
But living shalt thou see thy flesh my food.
Hear now the binding chant that makes thee mine.
⁠Weave the weird dance,—behold the hour
⁠To utter forth the chant of hell,
⁠Our sway among mankind to tell,
⁠The guidance of our power. ”

“ Speak, from what land art thou, and sent from whom?
Orestes.
Go, tell to them who rule the palace-halls,
Since 'tis to them I come with tidings new—
(Delay not—Night's dark car is speeding on,
And time is now for wayfarers to cast
Anchor in haven, wheresoe'er a house
Doth welcome strangers) —that there now come forth
Some one who holds authority within—
The queen, or, if some man, more seemly were it;
For when man standeth face to face with man,
No stammering modesty confounds their speech,
But each to each doth tell his meaning clear. ”

“ Clytemnestra.
Woe, woe! Ægisthus, spouse and champion, slain!
Orestes.
What, lov'st the man? then in his grave lie down,
Be his in death, desert him nevermore!
Clytemnestra.
Stay, child, and fear to strike. O son, this breast
Pillowed thine head full oft, while, drowsed with sleep,
Thy toothless mouth drew mother's-milk from me.
Orestes.
Can I my mother spare? speak, Pylades.
Pylades.
Where then would fall the hest Apollo gave
At Delphi, where the solemn compact sworn?
Choose thou the hate of all men, not of gods.
Orestes.
Thou dost prevail; I hold thy counsel good. ”

“ Exit Orestes, with Apollo.
Chorus.
⁠Woe on you, younger gods! the ancient right
⁠Ye have o'erridden, rent it from my hands.
⁠I am dishonoured of you, thrust to scorn!
⁠But heavily my wrath
Shall on this land fling forth the drops that blast and burn,
⁠Venom of vengeance, that shall work such scathe
⁠As I have suffered; where that dew shall fall,
⁠Shall leafless blight arise,
⁠Wasting Earth's offspring,—Justice, hear my call!—
⁠And thorough all the land in deadly wise
⁠Shall scatter venom, to exude again
⁠In pestilence on men. ”

“ Chorus.
⁠Nay, if so he will, the god
⁠Still our tears to joy can turn.
⁠He can bid a triumph-ode
⁠Drown the dirge beside this urn;
⁠He to kingly halls can greet
⁠The child restored, the homeward-guided feet.
Orestes.
Ah my father! hadst thou lain
⁠Under Ilion's wall,
By some Lycian spearman slain,
⁠Thou hadst left in this thine hall
Honour; thou hadst wrought for us
Fame and life most glorious.
⁠Over-seas if thou had'st died,
Heavily had stood thy tomb,
⁠Heaped on high; but, quenched in pride,
Grief were light unto thy home.
Chorus. ”

“ As, linked to mettled horses, speeds a car.
And now, beholding here earth's nether brood,
I fear it nought, yet are mine eyes amazed
With wonder. Who are ye? of all I ask,
And of this stranger to my statue clinging.
But ye—your shape is like no human form,
Like to no goddess whom the gods behold,
Like to no shape which mortal women wear.
Yet to stand by and chide a monstrous form
Is all unjust—from such words Right revolts.
Chorus.
O child of Zeus, one word shall tell thee all.
We are the children of eternal Night,
And Furies in the underworld are called.
Athena. ”

“ And, yet unripened, leaps within,
The young are weakly as the old,
And each alike unmeet to hold
The vantage post of war!
And ah ! when flower and fruit are o'er,
⁠And on life's tree the leaves are sere,
⁠Age wendeth propped its journey drear,
As forceless as a child, as light
And fleeting as a dream of night
Lost in the garish day!
But thou, O child of Tyndareus,
⁠Queen Clytemnestra, speak! and say
⁠What messenger of joy to-day
Hath won thine ear? what welcome news,
That thus in sacrificial wise
E'en to the city's boundaries
Thou biddest altar-fires arise? ”

“ And thus distraught by news of wrath and woe,
Oft for self-slaughter had I slung the noose,
But others wrenched it from my neck away.
Hence haps it that Orestes, thine and mine,
The pledge and symbol of our wedded troth,
Stands not beside us now, as he should stand.
Nor marvel thou at this: he dwells with one
Who guards him loyally; 'tis Phocis' king,
Strophius, who warned me erst, Bethink thee, queen,
What woes of doubtful issue well may fall!
Thy lord in daily jeopardy at Troy,
While here a populace uncurbed may cry
"Down with the council, down!" ”

“ Electra.
Lo! the earth drinks them, to my sire they pass—
Learn ye with me of this thing new and strange.
Chorus.
Speak thou; my breast doth palpitate with fear.
Electra.
I see upon the tomb a curl new shorn.
Chorus.
Shorn from what man or what deep-girded maid?
Electra.
That may he guess who will; the sign is plain.
Chorus.
Let me learn this of thee; let youth prompt age.
Electra.
None is there here but I, to clip such gift.
Chorus.
For they who thus should mourn him hate him sore.
Electra.
And lo! in truth the hair exceeding like—
Chorus. ”

“ And solemn shrines, and gods that front the morn!
Benign as erst, with sun-flushed aspect greet
The king returning after many days.
For as from night flash out the beams of day,
So out of darkness dawns a light, a king,
On you, on Argos—Agamemnon comes.
Then hail and greet him well! such meed befits
Him whose right hand hewed down the towers of Troy
With the great axe of Zeus who righteth wrong—
And smote the plain, smote down to nothingness
Each altar, every shrine; and far and wide
Dies from the whole land's face its offspring fair. ”

“ With the cry of a new-born child; and the brand from the burning she won,
For the Fates had foretold it coeval, in life and in death, with her son.
Yea, and man's hate tells of another, even Scylla [6] of murderous guile,
Who slew for an enemy's sake her father, won o'er by the wile
And the gifts of Cretan Minos, the gauds of the high-wrought gold;
For she clipped from her father's head the lock that should never wax old,
As he breathed in the silence of sleep, and knew not her craft and her crime—
But Hermes, the guard of the dead, doth grasp her, in fulness of time. ”

“ Zeus the high God!—whate'er be dim in doubt,
⁠This can our thought track out—
The blow that fells the sinner is of God,
⁠And as he wills, the rod
Of vengeance smiteth sore. One said of old,
⁠The Gods list not to hold
A reckoning with him whose feet oppress
⁠The grace of holiness—
An impious word! for whensoe'er the sire
⁠Breathed forth rebellious fire—
What time his household overflowed the measure
⁠Of bliss and health and treasure—
His children's children read the reckoning plain,
⁠At last, in tears and pain.
On me let weal that brings no woe be sent,
⁠And therewithal, content ”

“ Nor wipe them out, the last of Pelops' line.
For while they live, thou livest from the dead—
Children are memory's voices, and preserve
The dead from wholly dying: as a net
Is ever by the buoyant corks upheld,
Which save the flax-mesh, in the depth submerged.
Listen, this wail of ours doth rise for thee,
And as thou heedest it thyself art saved.
Chorus.
In sooth, a blameless prayer ye spake at length—
The tomb's requital for its dirge denied:
Now, for the rest, as thou art fixed to do,
Take fortune by the hand and work thy will.
Orestes.
The doom is set ”

“ Full on the mark thy shaft of speech doth light,
And one short word hath told long woes aright.
Chorus.
But say, what now of him each comrade saith?
What their forebodings, of his life or death?
Herald.
Ask me no more: the truth is known to none,
Save the earth-fostering, all-surveying Sun.
Chorus.
Say, by what doom the fleet of Greece was driven?
How rose, how sank the storm, the wrath of heaven?
Herald.
Nay, ill it were to mar with sorrow's tale
The day of blissful news. The gods demand
Thanksgiving sundered from solicitude. ”