Euripides · trans. Arthur S. Way
Euripides — Tragedies · Historical Works
The Madness of Herakles
Argument
Herakles was hated from his birth by Hera, and by her devices was made subject to Eurystheus, king of Argos. At his command he performed the great Twelve Labours, whereof the last was that he should bring up Cerberus, the Hound of Hades, from the Underworld. Ere he departed, he committed Amphitryon his father, with Megara his wife, and his sons, to the keeping of Kreon, king of Thebes, and so went down into the Land of Darkness. Now when he was long time absent, so that men doubted whether he would ever return, a man of Eubœa, named Lykus, was brought into Thebes by evil-hearted and discontented men, and with these conspired against Kreon, and slew him, and reigned in his stead. Then he sought further to slay all that remained of the house of Herakles, lest any should in days to come avenge Kreon’s murder. So these, in their sore strait, took refuge at the altar of Zeus. And herein is told how, even as they stood under the shadow of death, Herakles returned for their deliverance, and how in the midst of that joy and triumph a yet worse calamity was brought upon them by the malice of Hera.
Dramatis Personæ
Amphitryon, husband of Alkmena, and reputed father of Herakles.
Megara, wife of Herakles.
Lykus, a usurper, king of Thebes.
Herakles, son of Zeus and Alkmena.
Iris, a Goddess, messenger of the Gods.
Madness, a demon.
Servant of Herakles.
Theseus, king of Athens.
Chorus, consisting of Theban Elders.
Three young sons of Herakles; Attendants of Lykus and of Theseus.
Scene:—At Thebes, before the royal palace. The altar of Zeus stands in front.
The Madness of Herakles
Amphitryon, Megara, and her three sons by Herakles, seated on the steps of the altar of Zeus the Deliverer.
Amphitryon.
Who knows not Zeus’s couch-mate, who of men,
Argive Amphitryon, sprung from Perseus’ son
Alkaius, father of great Herakles?
Here in Thebes dwelt he, whence the earth-born crop
Of Sown Men rose, scant remnant of whose race 5
The War-god spared to people Kadmus’ town
With children of their children. Sprang from these
Kreon, Menœkeus’ son, king of this land,
Kreon, the father of this Megara,
Whose spousals all the sons of Kadmus once 10
Acclaimed with flutes, what time unto mine halls
Glorious Herakles brought home his bride.
But Thebes, wherein I dwelt, and Megara,
And all his marriage-kin, my son forsook,
Yearning to dwell in Argive walls, the town 15
Cyclopian, whence I am outlawed, since I slew
Elektryon: he, to lighten mine affliction,
And fain to dwell in his own fatherland,
Proffered Eurystheus for our home-return
A great price, even to rid the earth of pests— 20
Or spurred by Hera’s goads, or drawn by fate.
And, all the other labours now achieved,
For the last, down the gorge of Tainarus
He hath passed to Hades, to bring up to light
The hound three-headed, whence he hath not returned. 25
Now an old legend lives mid Kadmus’ sons
That erstwhile was one Lykus Dirkê’s spouse,
And of this seven-gated city king,
Ere Zethus and Amphion ruled the land,
Lords of the White Steeds, sprung from loins of Zeus. 30
And this man’s son, who bears his father’s name,—
No Theban, a Eubœan outlander,—
Slew Kreon, and having slain him rules the land,
Falling upon the state sedition-rent.
And mine affinity with Kreon knit 35
Is turned to mighty evil, well I wot.
For, while my son is in the earth’s dark heart,
This upstart Lykus, ruler of the land,
Would fain destroy the sons of Herakles,
And slay, with blood to smother blood, his wife 40
And me,—if I be reckoned among men,
A useless greybeard,—lest these, grown to man,
Take vengeance for their mother’s father’s blood.
And I—for me he left his halls within
To ward his sons and foster, with their mother, 45
When down into the earth’s black darkness passed
My son, that Herakles’ children might not die—
Here at the altar sit of Saviour Zeus,
Which, in thanksgiving for the victory won
O’er Minyan foes, mine hero-scion reared. 50
And, lacking all things, raiment, meat, and drink,
Here keep we session, on the bare hard ground
Laying our limbs; for desperate of life
Here sit we, barred from homes whose doors are sealed.
And of friends some, I note, are insincere, 55
Some, friends in truth, are helpless for our aid:
Such evil is misfortune unto men.
Never light this on one that loveth me,
Though ne’er so little—friendship’s sternest test!
Megara.
Ancient, who once didst smite the Taphians’ burg, 60
Captaining gloriously the Theban spears,
How are God’s ways with men past finding out!
For never fell my fortunes in my sire,
Who for his wealth was once accounted great,
Secure in kingship—that, for lust whereof 65
Long lances leap against men fortune-throned:
Children had he; me to thy son he gave,
In glorious spousal joined with Herakles.
Now is all dead—as upon wings hath flown:
And, ancient, thou and I are marked for death, 70
With Herakles’ children, whom, as ‘neath her wings
A bird her fledglings gathereth, so I keep.
And this and that one falls to questioning still—
“Mother, in what land stays our father?—tell.
What doth he? When comes?” In child-ignorance 75
They seek their sire: and still I put them by
With fables feigned; yet wondering start, whene’er
A door sounds; and unto their feet leap all,
As looking to embrace their father’s knee.
What hope or path of safety, ancient, now 80
Devisest thou?—for unto thee I look.
We cannot quit the land’s bounds unperceived,
For at all outlets guards too strong are set:
Nor linger hopes of safety any more
In friends. What counsel then thou hast soe’er, 85
Now speak it out, lest death be at the door,
And we, who are helpless, do but peize the time.
Amphitryon.
Daughter, not easily, without deep thought,
May one, though ne’er so earnest, counsel here.
Megara.
Dost seek more grief, or lov’st thou life so well? 90
Amphitryon.
In this life I rejoice: I love its hopes.
Megara.
And I: yet for things hopeless none may look.
Amphitryon.
Even in delay is salve for evils found.
Megara.
But ah the gnawing anguish of suspense!
Amphitryon.
Daughter, a fair-wind course may yet befall 95
From storms of present ills for thee and me.
Yet may he come—my son, thy lord, may come.
Nay, calm thee: stop the fountains welling tears
Of these thy sons, and soothe them with thy words,
Cheating them with a fable—piteous cheat! 100
Sooth, men’s afflictions weary of their work,
And tempest-blasts not alway keep their force;
The prosperous are not prosperous to the end;
For all things fleet and yield each other place.
He is the hero, who in steadfast hope 105
Trusts on : despair is but the coward’s part.
Enter Chorus, leaning on their staves, and climbing the ascent to the altar.
Chorus.
(Str.)
Unto the stately temple-roofs, whereby
The ancient coucheth on the ground,
Bowed o’er a propping staff, a chanter I
Whose song rings sorrow round, 110
Like some hoar swan I come—a voice, no more,
Like to a night-dream’s phantom-show,
Palsied with eld, yet loyal as of yore
To friends of long ago.
Hail, children fatherless! Hail, ancient, thou!
Hail, mother bowed ‘neath sorrow’s load,
Who mournest for thy lord long absent now
In the Unseen King’s abode!
(Ant.)
Let feet not faint, nor let the tired limbs trail
Heavy, as when uphillward strain, 120
Trampling the stones, a young steed’s feet that hale
The massy four-wheel wain.
Lay hold on helping hand, on vesture’s fold,
Whoso hath failing feet that grope
Blindly:—thy brother, ancient, thou uphold
Up this steep temple-slope,
Thy friend, who once mid toils of battle-peers
Shoulder to shoulder, did not shame—
When thou and he were young, when clashed the spears,—
His country’s glorious name.
(Epode.)
Mark ye how dragon-like glaring 130
As the eyes of the sire whom we knew
Are the eyes of the sons!—and unsparing
His hard lot followeth too
His sons; and the kingly mien
Of the sire in the children is seen.
O Hellas, if thou uncaring
Beholdest them slain, what a band
Of champions is lost to our land!
But lo, the ruler of this land I see,
Lykus, unto these mansions drawing nigh.
Enter Lykus.
Lykus.
Thee, sire of Herakles, and thee, his wife, 140
I ask—if ask I may:—I may, I trow,
Who am your lord, make question as I will:—
How long seek ye to lengthen out your lives?
What hope, what help from imminent death expect ye?
Trust ye that he, the sire of these, who lies 145
In Hades, yet shall come? How basely ye
Upraise a mourning that ye needs must die!—
Thou, who through Hellas scatteredst empty vaunts
That Zeus thy couch-mate fathered a new god,
And thou, that thou wast named a hero’s wife! 150
What mighty exploit by thy lord was wrought
In that he killed a hydra of the fen,
Or that Nemean lion?—which he snared,
Yet saith he slew with grip of strangling arms!
By these deeds would ye triumph?—for their sake 155
Must they die not, these sons of Herakles?—
That thing of nought, who won him valour’s name
Battling with beasts, a craven in all else,
Who never to his left arm clasped the shield,
Nor within spear-thrust came; but with his bow, 160
The dastard’s tool, was ever at point to flee!
Bows be no test of manhood’s valiancy.
Who bideth steadfast in the ranks, calm-eyed
Facing the spear’s swift furrow—a man is he!
Greybeard, no ruthlessness hath this my part, 165
But heedfulness: well know I that 1 slew
Kreon, this woman’s sire, and hold his throne.
Therefore I would not these should grow to man,
Left to avenge them on me for my deeds.
Amphitryon.
For Zeus’s part—his own son’s birth let Zeus 170
Defend: but, Herakles, to me it falls
Pleading thy cause to show this fellow’s folly.
I may not suffer thee to be defamed.
First, of the lie too foul to speak—for so,
Herakles, count I cowardice charged on thee,— 175
By the Gods’ witness thee I clear of this:
To thunder I appeal, to Zeus’s car
Whereon he rode against the earth-born brood,
The Giants, planting winged shafts in their ribs,
And with the Gods pealed forth the victory-chant. 180
Or thou to Pholoë go, most base of kings,
The four-foot monsters ask, the Centaur tribe,
Ask them whom they would count the bravest man.
Whom but my son?—of thee named “hollow show”!
Ask Dirphys, Abas’ land, which fostered thee; 185
It should not praise thee:—place is none wherein
Thy land could witness to brave deed of thine!
And at the bow, the crown of wise inventions,
Thou sneerest!—learn thou wisdom from my mouth:
The man-at-arms is bondman to his arms, 190
And through his fellows, if their hearts wax faint,
Even through his neighbours’ cowardice, he dies.
And, if he break his spear, he hath nought to ward
Death from himself, who hath but one defence.
But whoso grasps in hand the unerring bow,— 195
This first, and best, — lets fly unnumbered shafts,
Yet still hath store wherewith to avert the death.
Afar he stands, yet beats the foemen back,
And wounds with shafts unseen, watch as they will;
Yet never bares his body to the foe, 200
But is safe-warded; and in battle this
Is wisest policy, still to harm all foes
That beyond range shrink not, oneself unhurt.
These words have sense opposed full-face to thine
Touching the matter set at issue here. 205
But wherefore art thou fain to slay these boys?
What have they done? Herein I count thee wise,
That thou, thyself a dastard, fear’st the seed
Of heroes: yet hard fate is this for us,
If we shall for thy cowardice’ sake be slain, 210
As thou by us thy betters shouldst have been,
If Zeus to us were righteously inclined.
Yet, if thy will be still to keep Thebes’ crown,
Suffer us exiled to go forth the land;
But do no violence, lest thou suffer it, 215
When God shall haply cause the wind to change.
Out on it!
Land of Kadmus,—for to thee I turn,
Over thee hurling mine upbraiding words,—
Herakles and his sons thus succourest thou,
Even him who met the Minyans all in fight, 220
And made the eyes of Thebes see freedom’s dawn?
And shame on Hellas!—I will hold my peace
Never, who prove her base towards my son,—
Her, whom behoved with fire, with spear, with shield
To have helped these babes, thank-offering for his toils, 225
Repayment for his purging seas and lands.
Ah boys, such aid to you the Thebans’ town
Nor Hellas brings! To me, a strengthless friend,
Ye look, who am nothing but a voice’s sound:
For vanished is the might I had of old, 230
Palsied with eld my limbs are, gone my strength.
Were I but young yet, master of my thews,
I had grasped a spear, this fellow’s yellow hair
I had dashed with blood, that, seeing with craven eyes
My lance, he had fled beyond the Atlantic bourn! 235
Chorus.
Lo, cannot brave men find occasion still
For speech, how slow soe’er one be of tongue?
Lykus.
Rail on at me with words up-piled as towers:
I will for words requite on thee ill deeds.
(To attendant) Ho! bid my woodmen go—to Helicon these, 240
Those to Parnassus’ folds, and hew them logs
Of oak; and, when these into Thebes are brought,
On either side the altar billets pile,
And kindle; so the bodies of all these
Burn ye, that they may know that not the dead 245
Ruleth the land, but now am I king here.
And ye old men which set yourselves against
My purpose, not for Herakles’ sons alone
Shall ye make moan, but for your homes’ affliction,
Fast as blows fall, and so shall not forget 250
That ye are bondslaves of my princely power.
Chorus.
O brood of Earth, whom Arês sowed of yore,
What time he stripped the dragon’s ravening jaws,
Will ye not lift the props of your right hands,
Your staves, and dash with blood the impious head 255
Of yon man, who, though no Kadmeian he,
Base outland upstart, ruleth the New Folk?
Thou shalt not joy in lordship over me,
Nor that which I have gotten by toil of hand
Shalt thou have! Hence with curses whence thou cam’st! 260
There outrage! Whilst I live, thou ne’er shalt slay
Herakles’ sons! Not hidden in earth too deep
For help is he, though he hath left his babes.
Thou, ruin of this land, possessest her;
And he, her saviour, faileth of his due! 265
Am I a busy meddler then, who aid
Dead friends in plight where friends are needed most?
Ah right hand, how thou yearn’st to grip the spear,
But in thy weakness know’st thy yearning vain!
Else had I smitten thy taunt of bondslave dumb, 270
And we had ruled with honour this our Thebes
Wherein thou joyest! A city plagued with strife
And evil counsels thinketh not aright;
Else never had she gotten thee for lord.
Megara.
Fathers, I thank you. Needs must friends be filled 275
With righteous indignation for friends’ wrongs.
Yet for our sake through wrath against your lords
Suffer not scathe. Amphitryon, hearken thou
My counsel, if my words seem good to thee:
I love my sons,—how should I not love whom 280
I bare and toiled for?—and to die I count
Fearful: yet—yet—against the inevitable
Who strives, I hold him but a foolish man.
Since we must needs die, better ‘tis to die
Not with fire roasted, yielding laughter-scoff 285
To foes, an evil worse than death to me.
Great is our debt of honour to our house:—
Thou hast been crowned with glorious battle-fame;
Thou canst not, must not, die a coward’s death:
Nor any witness needs my glorious spouse 290
That he would not consent to save these sons
Stained with ill-fame: for fathers gently born
Are crushed beneath the load of children’s shame.
My lord’s example I cannot thrust from me.
Thine own hope—mark how lightly I esteem it: 295
Thou think’st, from the underworld thy son shall come;
Yet, of the dead, who hath returned from Hades?
Or might we appease this wretch with words, think’st thou?
Never!—of all foes must thou shun the churl.
To wise and nobly-nurtured foes give ground; 300
So thy submission may find chivalrous grace.
Even now methought, “What if we asked for these
The boon of exile?”—nay, ‘twere misery
To give them life with wretched penury linked.
For upon exile-friends the eyes of hosts 305
Look kindly, say they, one day and no more.
Face death with us: it waits thee in any wise.
Thy noble blood I challenge, ancient friend.
Whoso with eager struggling would writhe out
From fate’s net, folly is his eagerness. 310
For doom’s decree shall no man disannul.
Chorus.
Had any outraged thee while yet mine arms
Were strong, right quickly had he ceased therefrom.
But now I am nought. ‘Tis thine, Amphitryon, now
To search how thou shalt pierce misfortune’s snares. 315
Amphitryon.
Nor cowardice nor life-craving holds me back
From death: but for my son I fain would save
His sons—I covet things past hope, meseems.
Lo, here my throat is ready for thy sword,
For stabbing, murdering, hurling from the rock. 320
Yet grant us twain one grace, I pray thee, king:
Slay me and this poor mother ere the lads,
That—sight unhallowed—we see not the boys
Gasping out life, and calling on their mother
And grandsire: in all else thine eager will 325
Work out; for we have no defence from death.
Megara.
And, I beseech, to this grace add a grace,
To be twice benefactor to us twain:—
Open yon doors; let me array my sons
In death’s attire,—for now are we shut out,— 330
Their one inheritance from their father’s halls.
Lykus.
So be it: I bid my men throw wide the doors.
Pass in; adorn you: I begrudge no robes.
But, when ye have cast the arraying round your limbs,
I come, to give you to the nether world. 335
[Exit.
Megara.
Children, attend your hapless mother’s steps
To your sire’s halls, where others’ mastery holds
His substance, but his name yet lingereth ours.
[Exit with children.
Amphitryon.
Zeus, for my couch-mate gained I thee in vain:
For nought I named thee father of my son. 340
Less than thou seemest art thou friend to us.
Mortal, in worth thy godhead I outdo:
Herakles’ sons have I abandoned not.
Cunning wast thou to steal unto my couch,—
To filch another’s right none tendered thee,— 345
Yet know’st not how to save thy dear ones now!
Thine is unwisdom, or injustice thine.
[Exit.
Chorus.
(Str. 1)
Hard on the paean triumphant-ringing
Oft Phœbus outpealeth a mourning-song,
O’er the strings of his harp of the voice sweet-singing 350
Sweeping the plectrum of gold along.
I also of him who hath passed to the places
Of underworld gloom—be it Zeus’ son’s story,
Be Amphitryon’s scion the theme of my praises,—
Sing: I am fain to uplift him before ye
Wreathed with the Twelve Toils’ garland of glory:
For the dead have a heritage, yea, have a crown,
Even deathless memorial of deeds of renown.
I.In Zeus’ glen first, in the Lion’s lair,
He fought, and the terror was no more there; 360
But the tawny beast’s grim jaws were veiling
His golden head, and behind swept, trailing
Over his shoulders, its fell of hair.
(Ant. 1)
II.Then on the mountain-haunters raining
Far-flying arrows, his hand laid low
The tameless tribes of the Centaurs, straining
Against them of old that deadly bow.
Peneius is witness, the lovely-gliding,
And the fields unsown over plains wide-spreading,
And the hamlets in glens of Pelion hiding, 370
And on Homolê’s borders many a steading,
Whence poured they with ruining hoofs down-treading
Thessaly’s harvests, for battle-brands
Tossing the mountain pines in their hands.
III.And the Hind of the golden-antlered head,
And the dappled hide, which wont to spread
O’er the lands of the husbandmen stark desolation,
He slew it, and brought, for propitiation,
Unto Oinoë’s Goddess, the Huntress dread.
(Str. 2)
IV.And on Diomede’s chariot he rode, for he reined them, 380
By his bits overmastered, the stallions four
That had ravined at mangers of murder, and stained them
With revel of banquets of horror, when gore
From men’s limbs dripped that their fierce teeth tore.
V.Over eddies of Hebrus silvery-coiling
He passed to the great work yet to be done,
In the tasks of the lord of Mycenæ toiling;
By the surf mid the Maliac reefs ever boiling,
And by founts of Anaurus, he journeyed on, 390
Till the shaft from his string did the death-challenge sing
Unto Kyknus the guest-slayer, Amphanæ’s king,
Who gave welcome to none.
(Ant. 2)
VI.To the Song-maids he came, to the Garden enfolden
In glory of sunset, to pluck, where they grew
Mid the fruit-laden frondage the apples golden:
And the flame-hued dragon, the warder that drew
All round it his terrible spires, he slew.
VII.Through the rovers’ gorges seaward-gazing 400
He sought; and thereafter in peace might roam
All mariners plying the oars swift-racing:
VIII.And he came to the mansion of Atlas, and placing
His arms outstretched ‘neath the sky’s mid-dome,
By his might he upbore the firmament’s floor,
And the palace with splendour of stars fretted o’er,
The Immortals’ home.
(Str. 3)
IX.On the Amazon hosts upon war-steeds riding
By the shores of Mæotis, the river-meads green,
He fell; for the surges of Euxine he cleft. 410
What brother in arms was in Hellas left,
That came not to follow his banner’s guiding,
When to win the Belt of the Warrior Queen,
The golden clasp of the mantle vest,
He marched far north on a death-fraught quest?
And the wild maid’s spoils for a glory abiding
Greece won: in Mycenæ they yet shall be seen.
X.And the myriad heads he seared
Of the Hydra-fiend with flame, 420
Of the murderous hound Lyrnæan:
XI.With its venom the arrows he smeared
That stung through the triple frame
Of the herdman-king Erythæan.
(Ant. 3)
Many courses beside hath he run, ever earning
Triumph; but now to the dolorous land,
XII.Unto Hades, hath sailed for his last toil-strife;
And there hath he quenched his light of life
Utterly—woe for the unreturning! 430
And of friends forlorn doth thy dwelling stand;
And waits for thy children Charon’s oar
By the river that none may repass any more,
Whither godless wrong hath sped them: and yearning
We strain our eyes for a vanished hand.
But if mine were the youth and the might
Of old—were mine old friends here,
Might my spear but in battle be shaken,
I had championed thy children in fight:—
But mid desolate days and drear 440
I am left, of my youth forsaken!
Lo where they come!—the shrouds of burial cover
Each one,—the children of that Herakles
Named the most mighty in the days past over,—
She whom he loved, whose hands draw onward these
Like to a chariot’s trace-led steeds,—the father
Stricken in years of Herakles!—woe’s me!
Fountains of tears within mine old eyes gather;
How should I stay them, such a sight who see? 450
Enter Megara, Amphitryon, and children.
Megara.
Who is the priest, the butcher, of the ill-starred?
Or who the murderer of my wretched life?
Ready the victims are to lead to death.
O sons, a shameful chariot-team death-driven
Together, old men, mothers, babes, are we. 450
O hapless doom of me and these my sons
Whom for the last time now mine eyes behold!
I bare you, nursed you—all to be for foes
A scoff, a glee, a thing to be destroyed.
Woe and alas!
Ah for my shattered dreams, my broken hopes, 450
Hopes that I once built on your father’s words!
Argos to thee thy dead sire would allot:
Thou in Eurystheus’ palace wast to dwell
In fair and rich Pelasgia’s sceptred sway.
That beast’s fell o’er thine head he wont to throw, 450
The lion’s skin wherein himself went clad.
Thou shouldst be king of chariot-loving Thebes,
And hold the champaigns of mine heritage;
Thy prayer won this of him that gave thee life.
And to thy right hand would he yield the club, 470
A feignèd gift, his carven battle-stay.
To thee the land, by his far-smiting bow
Once wasted, promised he, Oechalia.
So with three princedoms would your sire exalt
His three sons, in his pride of your great hearts. 475
And I chose out the choice of Hellas’ brides,
Linking to ours by marriage Athens’ land,
And Thebes, and Sparta, that ye might, as ships
Moored by sheet-anchors, ride the storms of life.
All that is past: the wind of fate hath veered, 480
And given to you the Maids of Doom for brides,
Tears for my bride-baths. Woe for those my dreams!
And now your grandsire makes the spousal-feast
With Hades for brides’ sire, grim marriage-kin.
Ah me! which first of all, or which the last, 485
To mine heart shall I press?—whom to my lips?
Whom shall I clasp? Oh but to gather store
Of moan, like brown-winged bee, from all grief’s field,
And blend together in tribute of one tear!
Dear love,—if any in Hades of the dead 490
Can hear,—I cry this to thee, Herakles:
Thy sire, thy sons, are dying; doomed am I,
I, once through thee called blest in all men’s eyes.
Help!—come!—though as a shadow, yet appear!
For thou by that bare coming shouldst suffice 495
To daunt the cravens who would slay thy sons.
Amphitryon.
Lady, the death-rites duly order thou.
But I, O Zeus, with hand to heaven upcast
Cry—if for these babes thou hast any help,
Save them; for soon thou nothing shalt avail. 500
Yet oft hast thou been prayed: in vain I toil;
For now, meseems, we cannot choose but die.
Ah friends, old friends, short is the span of life:
See ye pass through it blithely as ye may,
Wasting no time in grief ‘twixt morn and eve. 505
For nothing careth Time to spare our hopes:
Swiftly he works his work, and fleets away.
See me, the observed of all observers once,
Doer of deeds of name—in one day all
Fortune hath snatched, as a feather skyward wafted. 510
None know I whose great wealth or high repute
Is sure. Farewell: for him that was your friend
Now for the last time, age-mates, have ye seen.
Herakles appears in the distance.
Megara.
Ha!
Ancient, my dear lord—else what?—do I see?
Amphitryon.
I know not, daughter,—speechless am I struck. 515
Megara.
‘Tis he who lay, we heard, beneath the earth,
Except in broad day we behold a dream!
What say I?—see they dreams, these yearning eyes?
This is none other, ancient, than thy son.
Boys, hither!—hang upon your father’s cloak. 520
Speed ye, unhand him not; for this is he,
Your helper he, no worse than Saviour Zeus.
Enter Herakles.
Herakles.
All hail, mine house, hail, portals of mine hearth!
How blithe, returned to light, I look on you!
Ha! what is this?—my sons before the halls 525
In death’s attire and with heads chapleted!—
And, mid a throng of men, my very wife!—
My father weeping over some mischance!
Come, let me draw nigh these and question them.
Wife, what strange stroke hath fallen on mine house? 530
Megara.
O best-beloved!—to thy sire light of life!
Art come?—art saved for friends’ most desperate need?
Herakles.
How?—father, what confusion find I here?
Megara.
We are at point to die!—thy pardon, ancient,
That I before thee snatch thy right of speech, 535
For woman is more swift than man to mourn,
And my sons were to die, and I was doomed.
Herakles.
Apollo!—what strange prelude to thy speech!
Megara.
Dead are my brethren and my grey-haired sire.
Herakles.
How?—by what deed, or stricken by what spear? 540
Megara.
‘Twas Lykus slew them, this land’s upstart king.
Herakles.
Met in fair fight?—or plague-struck was the land?
Megara.
By faction. So he rules seven-gated Thebes.
Herakles.
Why fell on thee and on the old man dread?
Megara.
Thy sire, thy sons, and me he fain would slay. 545
Herakles.
How?—of my fatherless children what feared he?
Megara.
Lest Kreon’s death one day they might avenge.
Herakles.
This vesture meet for dead folk, what means it?
Megara.
In this attire we shrouded us for death.
Herakles.
And were to die by violence?—woe is me! 550
Megara.
Forlorn of friends, we heard that thou hadst died.
Herakles.
Wherefore came on you this despair of me?
Megara.
The heralds of Eurystheus published this.
Herakles.
But why did ye forsake mine home and hearth?
Megara.
By force: thy father from his bed was flung. 555
Herakles.
Had he no shame to outrage these grey hairs?
Megara.
Shame?—from that Goddess far his dwelling is!
Herakles.
So poor of friends am I when far away!
Megara.
Friends!—what friends hath a man unfortunate?
Herakles.
Scorned they the fights with Minyans I endured? 560
Megara.
Friendless, I tell thee again, misfortune is.
Herakles.
Fling from your hair these cerements of the grave:
Look up to the light, beholding with your eyes
Exchange right welcome from the nether-gloom.
And I—for now work lieth to mine hand— 565
Will first go, and will raze to earth the house
Of this new king, his impious head smite off
And cast to dogs to rend. Of Thebans, all
Found traitors after my good deeds to them,
Some will I slay with this victorious mace, 570
And the rest scatter with my feathered shafts,
With slaughter of corpses all Ismenus fill,
And Dirkê’s pure stream red with blood shall run.
For whom should I defend above my wife
And sons and aged sire? Great toils, farewell! 575
Vainly I wrought them, leaving these unhelped!
I ought defending these to die, if these
Die for their father:—else, what honour comes
Of hydra and of lion faced in fight
At king Eurystheus’ hests, and from my sons 580
Death not averted? How shall I be called
Herakles the Victorious, as of old?
Chorus.
‘Tis just the father should defend the sons,
The grey sire, and the yokemate of his life.
Amphitryon.
Son, worthy of thee it is to love thy friends, 585
To hate thy foes: yet be not over rash.
Herakles.
Herein what showeth, father, haste unmeet?
Amphitryon.
The king hath many an ally, lackland knaves,
Fellows that have a name that they are rich,
Who sowed sedition, ruining the land, 590
To plunder neighbours, since their own estates,
Squandered by wasteful idleness, were gone.
Thou wast seen entering Thebes: since thou wast seen,
Let not foes gather, and thou fall unwares.
Herakles.
Though all the city saw me, nought reck I. 595
Yet, since I marked a bird in ominous place,
I knew that trouble on mine house had fallen,
And of set purpose entered secretly.
Amphitryon.
Go now, and hail thine hearth-gods with fair speech,
And show thy face to thine ancestral halls. 600
Himself, yon king, shall come to hale thy wife
And sons for murder, and to slaughter me.
If here thou bide, shall all go well with thee,
And thou shalt gain by surety. Stir not up
Thy city, ere thou hast ordered all things well. 605
Herakles.
I will: well said. I pass mine halls within.
Returned at last from sunless nether crypts
Of Hades and The Maid, I will not slight
The Gods, but hail them first beneath my roof.
Amphitryon.
Son, didst thou verily go to Hades’ halls? 610
Herakles.
Yea; the three-headed hound I brought to light.
Amphitryon.
Vanquished in fight, or by the Goddess given?
Herakles.
In fight. I had seen the Mysteries—well for me!
Amphitryon.
How, is the monster in Eurystheus’ halls?
Herakles.
Nay, in Demeter’s Grove, in Hermion’s town. 615
Amphitryon.
Nor knows Eurystheus thou art risen to day?
Herakles.
Nay; hither first, to know your state, I came.
Amphitryon.
How wast thou so long time beneath the earth?
Herakles.
From Hades rescuing Theseus, tarried I.
Amphitryon.
Where is he? Hath he passed to his fatherland? 620
Herakles.
To Athens, glad to have ‘scaped the underworld.
Come, children, follow to the house your sire;
For fairer to you is your entering-in
Than your outgoing. Nay then, pluck up heart,
And shed the tear-floods from your eyes no more; 625
And rally thou, my wife, thy fainting spirit:
From trembling cease: and ye, let go my cloak.
I am no winged thing, nor would I fly my friends.
Ha!
These let not go, but hang upon my cloak
Only the more! Was doom so imminent then? 630
E’en must I lead them clinging to mine hands,
As ship that tows her boats. Not I reject
Care of my sons. Men’s hearts be all like-framed:
They love their babes, as well the nobler sort,
As they that are but naught. In wealth they differ; 635
These have, those lack: their children all men love.
[Exeunt Herakles, Amphitryon, Megara, and children.
Chorus.
(Str. 1)
Ah, sweet is youth!—but always eld,
On mine head weighing, downward drags,
A heavier load than lay the crags
Of Etna on the Titan quelled, 640
Muffling mine eyes in mantle-fold
Of gloom. Not mine be wealth that lies
In Asian tyrants’ treasuries;
Not mine be halls of hoarded gold,
If forfeit youth for these must fleet—
Youth, fairest gem of high estate,
In lowliness most fair! I hate
Age, dark with death’s on-coming feet:
Deep be it drowned ‘neath storm-waves’ stress! 650
Ah, would that ne’er such visitant
Had come, men’s homes and towns to haunt,
That yet its wings flew shelterless!
(Ant. 1)
If wisdom, as of sons of earth,
And understanding, dwelt in heaven,
Twice o’er the boon of youth were given,
Seal manifest of manhood’s worth
On all true hearts: these from the grave
To the sun’s light again should climb, 660
To run their course a second time;
One life alone the vile should have.
Then, who are evil, who are good,
By such a sign might all men learn,
As shipmen ‘twixt the clouds discern
The star-host’s marshalled multitude.
But now, no line clear-severing
‘Twixt good and bad the Gods have drawn: 670
Wealth, as the rolling years sweep on,
Is all the burden that they bring.
(Str. 2)
The Muses shall for me be twined for ever with the Graces:
For evermore my song shall pour that sweetest union’s praises.
No life be mine of songless clown,
But, where for singers shines the crown,
Mine old lips still shall hymn renown of Memory’s fair creation.
Great Herakles the triumph-crowned my song extolleth ever, 680
In feasts my theme, where beakers gleam of Bromius wine-giver,
And where the lyre of sevenfold string
Sounds, and where Libyan flutes outring:
Ceaseless I’ll hear the Muses sing, queens of my inspiration.
(Ant. 2)
As maids of Delos chant the pæan’s holy strain immortal,
Whose white feet glance as sweeps the dance round Leto’s scion’s portal, 690
So will I raise the pagan-lay,
Swan-song of singer hoary-grey:
The portals of thine halls to-day shall hear the old lips chanting.
Proud theme hath minstrelsy, to sing mine hero’s high achieving:
He is Zeus’ son, but deeds hath done whose glory mounts, far-leaving
The praise of birth divine behind,
Whose toils gave peace to humankind,
Slaying dread shapes that filled man’s mind with terrors ceaseless-haunting. 700
Enter Lykus, attended. Re-enter Amphitryon.
Lykus.
So!—in good time, Amphitryon, com’st thou forth.
Ye have tarried all too long as ye arrayed
Your limbs in robes and trappings of the grave.
Haste, bid the sons and wife of Herakles
To show themselves forth-coming from these halls, 705
By your self-tendered covenant to die.
Amphitryon.
King, thou dost trample on my misery:
Thou heapest insult on the heart bereaved.
So strong and so impatient fits not thee.
But, since of force thou doomest me to die, 710
Of force must I content me and do thy will.
Lykus.
And Megara, and Alkmena’s son’s brood—where?
Amphitryon.
I think that she—if one without may guess—
Lykus.
What now?—for this thy thinking hast thou ground?
Amphitryon.
Sits suppliant at the holy altar-steps,— 715
Lykus.
With bootless prayer to heaven to save her life!
Amphitryon.
And vainly calleth on a husband dead.
Lykus.
Not here is he; nor shall he ever come.
Amphitryon.
Never,—except by a God raised from the dead.
Lykus.
Go thou to her, and bring her forth the halls. 720
Amphitryon.
So doing were I partaker in her blood!
Lykus.
I then,—since this lies heavy on thy soul,—
Who am past all fear, will bring forth with her sons
This mother. Henchmen, hither, follow me,
With joy to sweep this hindrance from our path. 725
[Exit.
Amphitryon.
Go thou where doom leads. For the rest, perchance,
Another shall take thought. Look thou for ill
To suffer ill! Old friends, in happy hour
He paceth on: in toils of snaring swords
Shall he be trapped who thought to slay his neighbours, 730
The utter-vile! I go to see him fall
Dead. Joy it is to see an enemy
Die, suffering vengeance for his ill deeds done.
[Exit.
The members of the Chorus chant successively.
Chorus 1.
(Str. 1)
Ho for requital of wrong! the king who was great heretofore
Backward is turning the path of his life unto Hades’ door!
Chorus 2.
Hail, justice and river of fate back-turning with refluent roar!
Chorus 3.
(Str. 2)
Thou com’st at last to pay death’s penalty— 740
Chorus 4.
For outrage done to better men than thee.
Chorus 5.
(Str. 3)
Gladness constraineth the fountain of tears from mine eyelids to start.
Chorus 6.
Come is the hour which the land’s king never ere this in his heart
Foresaw,—retribution’s vengeance-smart!
Chorus 7.
(Ant. 2)
Old friends, look ye within the halls, to see
Our soul’s desire upon our enemy.
Lykus (within).
Ah me! Woe’s me!
Chorus 8.
(Ant. 1)
Hark to the outburst!—as music it is for mine ears to hear 750
That strain ringing sweet through the halls: lo, death is exceeding near.
Chorus 9.
This king shrieketh prelude of slaughter: he shrieketh in anguish of fear.
Lykus (within).
(Str. 4)
Oh Kadmus’ land, by treachery am I slain!
Chorus 10.
As thou wouldst slay. Flinch not from vengeance-pain:
Thine own deeds’ retribution dost thou gain.
Chorus 11.
(Ant. 3)
Who was it, in lawlessness flouting the Gods, that mortal wight
Who in folly blasphemed the Blessed that reign in the heaven’s height,
Saying that Gods be void of might?
Chorus 12.
(Ant. 4)
Our foe is not:—such doom the impious earn. 760
Hushed are the halls. Now unto dances turn:
Blest are the dear ones over whom I yearn.
Chorus.
(Str. 5)
The dances, the dances are reeling, the shout of the banqueters pealing
Through Thebes, through the city divine.
Now from affliction of tears cometh severance;
Now from the thraldom of woe is deliverance.
And song is their heir.
Gone is the tyrant, the upstart craven,
And enthroned is the ancient line
Re-arisen from Hades’ drear ghost-haven: 770
Hope springs from despair.
(Ant. 5)
The Gods, O the Gods now are sealing unrighteousness’ doom, and revealing
The right, their eternal design.
But Gold and Fair-fortune, with Power the victorious
Harnessed beside them, in folly vainglorious
Hurry man to his doom:—
Law he outpaceth, and Lawlessness lasheth
To speed; nor his heart doth incline
To take heed to the end—lo, his car sudden-crasheth
Shattered in gloom! 780
(Str. 6)
Deck thee with garlands, Ismenus, and ye
Break forth into dancing.
Streets stately with Thebes’ fair masonry,
And Dirkê bright-glancing:
Come, Maids of Asopus, to us, from the spring
Come ye of your father;
Of Herakles’ glorious triumph to sing,
Nymph-chorus, O gather,
Pythian forest-peak, Helicon’s steep 790
Of the Song-queens haunted,
To my town, to my walls, let the song-echoes leap
Of the strains loud-chanted—
To my town, whence the Dragon-seed rose to the day,
The warrior nation,
Whose sons guard the fathers’ inheritance aye,
Thebes’ light of salvation.
(Ant. 6)
Hail to the couch where the spousals divine
With the mortal were blended,
Where for love of the Lady of Perseus’ line 800
Zeus’ glory descended!
For thy bridal of old is my faith, Zeus, won,
Though I held it a story
Past credence: by time is the might of thy son
Revealed in its glory:
He hath burst from earth’s dungeons, hath rifted the chain
Of Pluto’s deep prison!
Thou art worthier to rule than the churl-king slain,
O my King re-arisen! 810
For now the usurper hath proved, when in fight
The sword-wielders have striven.
Whether yet, as in old time, the cause of the right
Is well-pleasing to heaven.
The forms of Iris and Madness appear above the palace.
Ha see! ha see!
On you, on me, doth this same panic fall?
Old friends, what phantom hovereth o’er the hall?
Ah flee! ah flee
With haste of laggard feet!—speed thou away!
Healer, to thee, 820
O King, to avert from me yon bane I pray!
Iris.
Fear not: this is the child of Night ye see,
Madness, grey sires: I, handmaid of the Gods,
Iris. We come not for your city’s hurt.
Only on one man’s house do we make war— 825
His, whom Zeus’ and Alkmena’s son they call.
For, till he had ended all his bitter toils.
Fate shielded him, and Father Zeus would not
That I, or Hera, wrought him ever harm.
But, now he hath toiled Eurystheus’ labours through, 830
Hera will stain him with the blood of kin,
That he shall slay his sons: her will is mine.
On then, close up thine heart from touch of ruth,
O thou unwedded child of murky Night:
With madness thrill this man, with soul-turmoil 835
Child-murdering, with wild boundings of the feet:
Goad him; the sheets of murder’s sails let out,
That, when o’er Acheron’s ferry his own hand
In blood hath sped his crown of goodly sons,
Then may he learn how dread is Hera’s wrath, 840
And mine, against him: else the Gods must wane
And mortals wax, if he shall not be punished.
Madness.
Of noble sire and mother was I born,
Even of the blood of Uranus and Night.
But not to do despite to friends I hold 745
My powers, nor love to haunt for murder’s sake.
Fain would I plead with Hera and with thee,
Ere she have erred, if ye will heed my words.
This man, against whose house ye thrust me on,
Nor on the earth is fameless, nor in heaven. 850
The pathless land, the wild sea, hath he tamed,
And the Gods’ honours hath alone restored,
When these by impious men were overthrown.
Therefore I plead, devise no monstrous wrong.
Iris.
Dare not with thine admonitions trammel Hera’s schemes and mine! 855
Madness.
Nay, I do but point a pathway meeter far to tread than thine.
Iris.
Not to flaunt thy temperance hath she sent thee, Zeus’s bride divine.
Madness.
Witness, Sun, that I am doing that which I would fain refuse:
Yet, if I must work thy will and Hera’s—if I may not choose,
But with skirr of rushing footfalls follow you like huntsman’s pack, 860
On will I; nor sea nor moaning surges hurl such ruin-wrack,
No, nor earthquake, no, nor madding thunder’s gasping agonies,
As the fury of mine onrush to the breast of Herakles.
I will rive his roofs, will swoop adown his halls:—his children first
I will slay; nor shall the murderer know he slakes his murder-thirst 865
On the children of his body, till my madness’ course is run.
See him—lo, his head he tosses in the fearful race begun!
See his gorgon-glaring eyeballs all in silence wildly rolled!
Like a bull in act to charge, with fiery pantings uncontrolled
Awfully he bellows, howling to the fateful fiends of hell! 870
Wilder yet shall be thy dance, as peals my pipe’s appalling knell!
—Ay, unto Olympus soaring, Iris, tread thy path serene!
Mine the task into the halls of Herakles to plunge unseen.
[Iris ascends, and Madness enters the palace.
Chorus.
Alas and alas! cry out, O town,
For thy goodliest flower, Zeus’ son, mown down!
Thy champion shall slip from thine hands, to thy bitter cost,
Hellas; in frenzied dances of madness tossed
Where the flute sounds not, he is lost to thee, lost!
She hath mounted her car, groans throng in her train;
She is goading her horses on mission of bane, 880
Night’s daughter, a Gorgon with hundred-headed hiss
Of her serpents, Madness the ghttering-eyed is this.
Swiftly hath fortune o’erthrown him who sat on high:
Swiftly the sons by the father’s hand shall die.
Ah misery! Zeus, mad vengeance ravenous-wild
Straightway, athirst for requital, with evils on evils piled,
Shall trample thy son unto dust, as though he were not thy child.
Woe for the palace-dome!
Her dance is beginning, but not with the cymbals clashing, 890
Not with the pine-wand uptossed amid loud acclamation,—
Woe for a hero’s home!—
But for shedding of blood, not the blood of the grape glad-plashing
As the banqueters pour it forth for the Wine-god’s oblation.
Away, O ye children, in flight, for death,
Death shrieks through her pipe by the blast of her breath!
[Cries and sound of rushing within.]
Like a hound is he holding the children in chase!—
Never shall Madness keep revel for nought through his dwelling-place.
Woe, anguish and pain!
Woe and alas for the silver hair 900
Of his father!—woe for the mother who bare
His babes in vain!
[Sound of battering and rending within.]
Lo you, lo you!
A whirlwind is shaking the house—its roofs fall crashing—
Ah what, ah what, Zeus’ son, wouldst thou do?
Down on thy palace the turmoil of hell art thou dashing,
As the levin from Pallas’s hand to the heart of Enkeladus flashing.
Enter Servant from within.
Servant.
O reverend presences hoary-white—
Chorus.
What meaneth thy cry unto me—thy cry of fear? 910
Servant.
Within yon halls is a fearful sight!
Chorus.
No need, to attest thy tale, that we seek to a seer.
Servant.
Dead are the children—woe is me!
Chorus.
Wail! well may ye wail!—slain ruthlessly!—
That their murder the hands of a father should wreak!
Servant.
Things have we suffered no tongue may speak.
Chorus.
How, of the woeful doom by a father wrought
On his sons, canst thou tell?
Say, say in what fashion the malice of Gods hath brought
These ills on the house, and the fate with misery fraught 920
On the children that fell.
Servant.
Victims were set before the hearth of Zeus
To cleanse the house, since, having slain the king,
Forth of these halls had Herakles flung the corpse.
And there his children stood in fair array, 925
His sire, and Megara. Round the altar now
The maund had passed; and we kept hallowed hush.
Then, even in act to bear the torch in hand
And plunge in lustral water, silent stood
Alkmena’s son: and, as their sire delayed, 930
His sons looked—lo, he seemed no more the same,
But wholly marred, with rolling eyes distraught,
With bloodshot eye-roots starting from his head,
While dripped the slaver down his bearded cheek.
Suddenly with a maniac laugh he spake: 935
”Why, ere I slay Eurystheus, sacrifice,
Father—have cleansing fire and toil twice o’er,
When all in one act I may compass well?
When hither I have brought Eurystheus’ head,
For him, with these now slain, I’ll purge my hands. 940
Spill ye the water, cast the maunds away!
Ho there—my bow!—the mace of my right hand!
I march against Mycenæ:—I must take
Crowbars and mattocks, that yon Cyclop town,
Yon walls with red line and with gavil squared, 945
May by my bended lever be upheaved.”
Then set forth, speaking of his car the while,
Who car had none, sprang to the chariot-rail,
And thrust, as who held in his hand a goad.
His henchmen, half in mirth and half in fear, 950
Were glancing each at other, and one spake:
“Doth our lord make us sport, or is he mad?”
Still was he pacing up and down the house;
Then, to the men’s hall rushing, cried, “I have come
To Nisus’ town!”—who stood in his own halls. 955
He casts him on the bare floor, and prepares
To feast: yet, tarrying there but little space,
He cried, “I go to Isthmus’ woodland plains!”
Then from his body cast his mantle’s folds,
And wrestled with—no man!—proclaimed himself 960
Unto himself the victor, crying, “Hear!”—
To none! In fancy at Mycenæ then
He stormed against Eurystheus. But his sire
Clung to his brawny hand, and cried to him,
“O son, what ails thee? What wild freak is this? 965
Surely thou art not driven distraught by blood
Of these late slain!” He deemed Eurystheus’ sire,
A trembling suppliant, hung upon his hand,
And spurned him back; prepared his quiver and bow
Against his own sons then, thinking to slay 970
Eurystheus’ sons. They, quaking with affright,
Rushed hither, thither: his hapless mother’s skirts
This sought, that to a pillar’s shadow fled.
A third cowered ‘neath the altar like a bird.
Then shrieked the mother, “Father, what dost thou? 975
Wouldst slay thy sons?” The thralls, the ancient, cried.
He, winding round the pillar as wound his son
In fearful circlings, met him face to face
And shot him to the heart. Back as he fell,
His death-gasps dashed the column with red spray. 980
Then shouted Herakles, and vaunted thus:
“One of Eurystheus’ fledglings here is slain,
Dead at my feet, hath paid for his sire’s hate!”
Against the next then aimed his bow, who crouched
At the altar’s base, in hope to be unseen. 985
But, ere he shot, the poor child clasped his knees,
And stretching to his beard and neck a hand,
“Ah, dearest father,” cried he, “slay not me!
I am thy boy—thine!—‘Tis not Eurystheus’ son!”
He, rolling savage gorgon-glaring eyes, 990
Since the boy stood too near for that fell bow,
Swung back overhead his club, like forging-sledge,
Down dashed it on his own son’s golden head,
And shattered all the bones. This second slain,
He speeds to add to victims twain a third. 995
But first the wretched mother snatched the child,
And bare within, and barred the chamber-door.
But he, as though at siege of Cyclop walls,
Mines, heaves up doors, and hurls the door-posts down,
And with one arrow laid low wife and child: 1000
Then charges down to spill his old sire’s blood.
But a Shape came,—as seemed unto our eyes,
Pallas with plumed helm, brandishing a spear;—
And against Herakles’ breast she hurled a rock
Which stayed him from his murder-frenzy, and cast 1005
Into deep sleep. To earth he fell, and dashed
His back against a pillar, cleft in twain
By the roof’s ruin, on the pavement thrown.
Then we, from flight of panic breathing free,
Wrought with the old man, binding him with cords 1010
Unto the pillar, that, awaked from sleep,
He might not add ill deeds to ill deeds done.
There sleeps he, wretched man, a sleep unblest,
Who hath slaughtered sons and wife. For me, I know not
Of mortals any man more fortune-crost. 1015
Chorus.
That murder which Argos remembereth
Was aforetime through Hellas most famous, the strange tale told
Of Danaus’ daughters, the workers of death:—
But this hath surpassed, hath outrun, that horror of old. 1020
I might tell of the sacrifice done to the Muses, the blood of a son
Of Zeus, who of Proknê was slaughtered, the only child of her womb:—
But thou, who art father of children three, O unhappiest one,
Together hast murdered them all, driven on by thy madness’s doom!
With what cry shall I wail thee, what sighing,
What chant as for dead that are lying in Hades, what dirge of the tomb?
Alas! O see
How the bolts slide back, and asunder fall
The stately doors of the palace-hall. 1030
The palace is thrown open, and the scene within disclosed.
Ah me! ah me!
Lo there the children—ah misery!
At the feet of their wretched father they lie:
And from murder of sons he is resting in awful sleep;
And around him the bonds with manifold fastenings keep
The body of Herakles in ward,
And lashed to the palace’s pillars of stone are the coils of the cord.
And that old sire, as bird that maketh moan
O’er fledgling brood, with footsteps eld-fordone 1040
Treading a bitter pathway, cometh on.
Amphitryon.
Ah peace, Kadmean fathers, peace!
Let his woes in oblivion a moment cease
By slumber’s release.
Chorus.
With tears I bemoan thee, and these babes dead,
O ancient, and that victorious head.
Amphitryon.
Withdraw you farther, beat not the breast,
Neither cry, neither break ye his slumbrous rest
Of calm-drawn breath. 1050
Chorus.
Woe’s me for the river of blood he hath spilt!—
Amphitryon.
Ah, your words be my death!
Chorus.
It is rising against him, a witness of guilt!
Amphitryon.
Let the wail of your dirge, ye ancients, softlier fall,
Lest he wake, lest he rend away his bonds, and in ruin lay
Thebes, lest his father he slay, and shatter his palace-hall.
Chorus.
I cannot—my crying I cannot forbear!
Amphitryon.
Hush!—let me hearken his breathing—bend low mine ear—
Chorus.
Sleepeth he? 1060
Amphitryon.
Yea—in a slumber of bane,
Who hath slain his wife, hath his children slain
With the string that sang them the bow’s death-strain!
Chorus.
Wail therefore—
Amphitryon.
I wail with thee.
Chorus.
His babes’ death,—
Amphitryon.
Woe is me!
Chorus.
And thy son’s doom!
Amphitryon.
Well-a-day!
Chorus.
Ah ancient—
Amphitryon.
O hush ye! stay!
He is writhing—is turning—is waking! Away!
Under yon roof let me hide me out of his sight! 1070
Chorus.
Fear not: on the eyes of thy son yet broodeth the night.
Amphitryon.
Beware—O beware!
Not death do I shun, for a crown of the ills that I bear—
Wretch that I am!—but if me, if his father, he kill,
To his load of ill shall he add fresh ill,
And to heap up his debt to the Furies the blood of a kinsman shall spill.
Chorus.
Then shouldst thou have died, when thou wentest forth to requite
The blood of the kin of thy wife on the Taphians, to smite
Their city enringed with the surf-crests white. 1080
Amphitryon.
Flee, ancients! Afar from the dwelling flee!
From his frenzy of fury O hasten ye,
For he waketh from sleep!
Full soon on the deaths he hath wrought fresh deaths shall he heap,
Through the city of Kadmus storming in awful revelry.
Chorus.
Ah Zeus, why this stern hate against thy son?
Why hast thou brought him to this sea of ills?
Herakles (waking and stirring.)
Ha!
Breathing I am—all I should see I see,
The sky, the earth, the shafts of yonder sun: 1090
Yet as in surge and storm of turmoiled soul
Am whelmed, and fiery-fervent breath I breathe
Hard-panted from my lungs, not tempered calm.
Ha!—wherefore, like a ship by hawsers moored,
Ropes compassing my strong chest and mine arms, 1095
Bound to half-shattered masonry of stone
Sit I?—lo, corpses neighbours to my seat!
Winged shafts and bow are strawn about the floor,
Which once, like armour-bearers to mine arms,
Warded my side, were kept of me in ward: 1100
Sure, not to Hades have I again gone down,
Who have passed, repassed, Eurystheus’ Hades-course?
Nay, I see not the stone of Sisyphus,
Pluto, nor sceptre of Demeter’s Child.
Distraught am I? Know I not where I am? 1105
Ho there? of my friends who is near or far
To be physician to my ‘wilderment?
For clearly nought know I of wonted things.
Amphitryon.
Old friends, shall I draw near unto my grief?
Chorus.
I too with thee, forsaking not thy woe. 1010
Herakles.
Father, why dost thou weep and veil thine eyes,
Shrinking afar from thy beloved son?
Amphitryon.
My son!—ay, mine, though ne’er so ill thy plight!
Herakles.
Am I in grievous plight, that thou shouldst weep?
Amphitryon.
Plight whereat Gods might groan, were God so stricken! 1115
Herakles.
Great words!—but what hath chanced thou say’st not yet.
Amphitryon.
Thyself may’st see, if now thy wit be sound.
Herakles.
Speak, if thou shadowest forth strange ills for me.
Amphitryon.
I will say—so thy frenzy of hell be past.
Herakles.
Again that word!—ha, what dark riddle this? 1120
Amphitryon.
Yea, if thy mind be sober yet I doubt—
Herakles.
Nought I remember of a frenzied mind.
Amphitryon.
Fathers, shall I unbind my son, or no?
Herakles.
Yea, name who bound me!—I disown the deed.
Amphitryon.
Know thou so far thine ills:—the rest let be. 1125
Herakles.
Enough!—I would not from thy silence learn.
Amphitryon (unbinding him).
Zeus, seest thou this curse hurled from Hera’s throne?
Herakles.
Ha! have I suffered mischief of her hate?
Amphitryon.
Let be the Goddess: thine own miseries heed.
Herakles.
I am undone! What ruin wilt thou tell? 1130
Amphitryon.
Lo, mark these fallen wrecks,—wrecks of thy sons!
Herakles.
Woe’s me! ah wretch, what sight do I behold?
Amphitryon.
Unnatural war, son, waged against thy babes.
Herakles.
What war mean’st thou? Who hath done these to death?
Amphitryon.
Thou, and thy bow—and whatso God was cause. 1135
Herakles.
How?—what did I?—O ill-reporting sire!
Amphitryon.
In madness. Heavy enlightening cravest thou!
Herakles.
Ha! am I murderer of my wife withal?
Amphitryon.
Yea: all these deeds are work of one hand—thine.
Herakles.
Alas! a cloud of groaning shrouds me round! 1140
Amphitryon.
For this cause heavily mourn I thy mischance.
Herakles.
Did I—I—wreck mine house, or lead wild revel?
Amphitryon.
One thing I know—thy state is ruin all.
Herakles.
Where did my frenzy seize me?—where destroy?
Amphitryon.
As thine hand touched the altar’s cleansing fire. 1145
Herakles.
Woe’s me! Ah wherefore spare I mine own life,
Who am found the murderer of my dear, dear sons,
And rush not to plunge headlong from a cliff,
Or dash a dagger down into mine heart,
And make me avenger of my children’s blood, 1150
Or with consuming fire burn this my flesh,
To avert the imminent life-long infamy?
But lo, to thwart my purposes of death,
Theseus draws nigh, my kinsman and my friend.
I shall be seen!—this curse of children’s blood 1155
Shall meet a friend’s eyes, dearest of my friends!
Woe! What shall I do?—where find solitude
In ills?—take wings, or plunge beneath the ground?
Come, let me in pall of darkness shroud mine head;
For I take shame for evils wrought of me, 1160
Nor would I taint him with bloodguiltiness—
Nay, nowise would I harm the innocent.
Enter Theseus, with attendants.
Theseus.
I come, with them that by Asopus’ stream
In arms are tarrying, Athens’ warrior sons,
Ancient, to bring thy son my battle-aid. 1165
For rumour came to the Erechtheïds’ town
That Lykus, this land’s sceptred sway usurped,
For war had risen against you, and for fight.
And to requite the service done of him
Who out of Hades saved me, come I, ancient, 1170
If aught ye need mine hand or mine allies.
Ha! wherefore bears the earth this load of dead?
Have I been laggard?—have I come too late
To stay fell mischief? Who could slay these boys?
Whose wife is she, this woman that I see? 1175
Not boys, good sooth, are ranged to face the spear!
Sure, some unheard-of outrage here I find!
Amphitryon.
King, lord of the mount with the olives crowned—
Theseus.
Why hail’st thou me with preluding of woe?
Amphitryon.
Sore ills at the hands of the Gods have we found! 1180
Theseus.
What lads be these, for whom thou weepest so?
Amphitryon.
My son was their father—alas and alas for him—
Their father—and slew them!—who dared that murder grim!
Theseus.
Hush! Speak not horrors thou!
Amphitryon.
Ah, would that I could but obey thy word!
Theseus.
Dread things thou sayest now!
Amphitryon.
Fled is our bliss, as on wings of a bird.
Theseus.
What sayest thou?—how wrought he deed so dread?
Amphitryon.
Upon madness’s surge was his soul tossed wide,
And his shafts in the blood of the hydra of hundred heads were dyed. 1190
Theseus.
Lo, Hera’s work! Who croucheth midst yon dead?
Amphitryon.
My son is it—mine—of the thousand toils, who stood
In the ranks of the Gods, stood slaying the giant-brood
On the Plain of Phlegra, a warrior good.
Theseus.
Woe! when was man by fate so ill-bestead?
Amphitryon.
None other of mortal men shalt thou see
Who hath burden of heavier griefs, was more dreadly misguided than he.
Theseus.
Why doth he veil with cloaks his hapless head?
Amphitryon.
For shame that thine eyes such sight should win,
Shame for the pitying love of kin, 1200
For his sons’ blood shame—for the madness, the sin!
Theseus.
Unveil—‘twas sympathy my steps that led.
Amphitryon.
Son, cast from thine eyes thy mantle’s veil;
Fling it hence; thy face to the sun forth show.
Lo, a weight that outweigheth thy tears bears down grief’s scale!
I bow me in suppliance low
At thy beard, at thy knee, at thine hand, till thou hear:
And mine old eyes drop the tear.
O son, refrain thou the furious lion’s mood! 1210
Thou wouldst speed on a race unhallowed, a path of blood,
Who art minded to swell with evil evil’s flood.
Theseus.
Ho! thee in spirit-broken session crouched
I hail—reveal unto thy friends thy face. 1215
There is no darkness hath a pall so black
That it should hide the misery of thy woes.
Why wave me back with hand that warns of blood?
Lest some pollution of thy speech taint me?
Nought reck I of misfortune, shared with thee. 1220
Fair lot hath found me—I date it from that hour
When safe to day thou brought’st me from the dead.
Friends’ gratitude that waxeth old I hate,
Hate him who would enjoy friends’ sunshine-tide,
But will not in misfortune sail with them. 1225
Stand up, unmuffle thou thine hapless head:
Look on me: who of men is royal-souled
Beareth the blows of heaven, and flincheth not.
[Unveils Herakles.]
Herakles.
Theseus, hast seen mine onslaught on my babes?
Theseus.
I have heard: the ills thou namest I behold. 1230
Herakles.
Why then unveil mine head unto the sun?
Theseus.
Why?—mortal, thou canst not pollute the heavens.
Herakles.
Flee, hapless, my pollution god-accurst!
Theseus.
No haunting curse can pass from friend to friend.
Herakles.
Now nay!—yet thanks. I helped thee, nor repent. 1235
Theseus.
I for that kindness now compassionate thee.
Herakles.
Compassion-worthy am I, who slew my sons!
Theseus.
I weep for thy sake, for thy fortune changed.
Herakles.
Hast thou known any whelmed in deeper woes?
Theseus.
From earth to heaven reach thy calamities. 1240
Herakles.
Therefore have I prepared my soul to die.
Theseus.
Deem’st thou that Gods reck aught of threats of thine?
Herakles.
Reckless is God—I, reckless of the Gods.
Theseus.
Refrain lips, lest high words bring deeper woes!
Herakles.
Full-fraught am I with woes—no space for more. 12245
Theseus.
What wilt thou do?—whither art passion-hurled?
Herakles.
To death. I pass to Hades, whence I came.
Theseus.
No hero’s words be these that thou hast said.
Herakles.
Thou dost rebuke me—clear of misery thou!
Theseus.
Speaks Herakles, who hath endured so much,— 1250
Herakles.
Never so much!—its bounds endurance hath.
Theseus.
Men’s benefactor and their mighty friend?
Herakles.
They cannot help, for Hera’s might prevails.
Theseus.
Hellas will brook not this fool’s death for thee.
Herakles.
Hearken, that I may wrestle in argument 1255
With thine admonishings. I will unfold
Why now, as heretofore, boots not to live.
First, I am his son, who, with blood-guilt stained
From murder of my mother’s aged sire,
Wedded Alkmena who gave birth to me. 1260
When the foundation of the race is laid
In sin, needs must the issue be ill-starred.
And Zeus—whoe’er Zeus be—begat me foe
To Hera,—nay but, ancient, be not chafed,
For truer father thee I count than Zeus. 1265
When I was yet a suckling, Zeus’s bride
Sent gorgon-glaring serpents secretly
Against my cradle, that I might be slain.
Soon as I gathered vesture of brawny flesh,
What boots to tell what labours I endured? 1270
What lions, what three-bodied Typhon-fiends,
Or giants, slew I not?—or with what host
Of fourfoot Centaurs fought not out the war?
The hound o’erswarmed with heads that severed grew,
The Hydra, killed I: throngs of toils beside 1275
Untold I wrought: I passed unto the dead
To bring forth at Eurystheus’ hest to light
The hound three-headed, warder of Hell-gate.
And this—woe’s me!—my latest desperate deed,
Murder—mine house’s topstone—my sons’ blood! 1280
I am come to this strait—in my dear-loved Thebes
I cannot dwell uncursed. Though I should stay,
To what fane can I go?—what gathering
Of friends?—the Accurst, to whom no man may speak!
Shall I to Argos?—I, an outlawed man! 1285
Come then, to another city let me go—
And there be eyed askance, a branded man,
My jailers there the scorpions of the tongue—
“Lo there Zeus’ son, who murdered babes and wife!
Shall he not hence?—perdition go with him!” 1290
Now to the man called happy in time past
Reverse is torture: he whose days were dark
Always, grieves not, being cradled in distress.
And to this misery shall I come, I ween;
For earth shall find a voice forbidding me 1295
To touch her, and the sea, that I cross not,
And river springs: so, like Ixion whirled
In chains upon his wheel shall I become.
Best so—that none of Greeks set eyes on me
Amongst whom once I prospered and was blest. 1300
Why need I live? What profit shall I have
Owning a useless life, a life accurst?
Now let her dance, that glorious bride of Zeus,
Beating with sandalled foot Olympus’ floor!
She hath compassed her desire that she desired, 1305
Down with his pedestal hurling in utter wreck
The foremost man of Greece! To such a Goddess
Who shall pray now?—who, for a woman’s sake
Jealous of Zeus, from Hellas hath cut off
Her benefactors, guiltless though they were! 1310
Chorus.
This is the assault of none of deities
Save Zeus’s Queen: this thou divinest well.
Theseus.
[Think not that I would bid thee flee to death],
Rather than bid thee suffer and be strong.
No mortal hath escaped misfortune’s taint,
Nor God—if minstrel-legends be not false. 1315
Have they not linked them in unlawful bonds
Of wedlock, and with chains, to win them thrones,
Outraged their fathers? In Olympus still
They dwell, by their transgressions unabashed.
What wilt thou plead, if, mortal as thou art, 1320
Thou chafe against thy fate, and Gods do not?
Nay then, leave Thebes, submissive to the law,
And unto Pallas’ fortress come with me.
There will I cleanse thine hands from taint of blood,
Give thee a home, and of my substance half. 1325
The gifts my people gave for children saved
Twice seven, when I slew the Knossian bull,
These will I give thee. All throughout the land
Have I demesnes assigned me: these shall bear
Thy name henceforth with men while thou shalt live. 1330
And, when in death thou goest to Hades’ halls,
With sacrifice and monuments of stone
Shall all the Athenians’ Town exalt thy name:
For a fair crown to win from Greeks is this
For us, the glory of a hero helped. 1335
Yea, this requital will I render thee
For saving me; for now thou lackest friends.
When the Gods honour us, we need not friends:
God’s help sufficeth, when he wills it so.
Herakles.
Ah, to mine ills this hath no pertinence! 1340
I deem not that the Gods for spousals crave
Unhallowed: tales of Gods’ hands manacled
Ever I scorned, nor ever will believe,
Nor that one God is born another’s lord.
For God hath need—if God indeed he be— 1345
Of nought: these be the minstrels’ sorry tales.
Yet thus I have mused—how deep soe’er in ills—
“Shall I quit life, and haply prove me craven?”
For he who knoweth not, being mortal-born,
To bear misfortune as a man should bear,
He even before a mere man’s spear would blench. 1350
I will be strong to await death. To thy town
I go. For thy gifts thanks a thousandfold.
Ah, I have tasted travail measureless,
Nor ever flinched from any, never shed
Tear from mine eyes, no, nor had ever thought 1355
That I should come to this, to weep the tear!
But now, meseems, I must be thrall to fate.
Ay so!—thou seëst, ancient, mine exile;
Thou seëst me a murderer of my sons.
Give these a tomb, and shroud the dead, with tears 1360
For honour,—me the law withholds therefrom,—
Laid on the mother’s breast, clasped in her arms,
Sad fellowship, which I—O wretch!—destroyed
Unknowing. When thou hast hid them in the tomb,
Live on in Thebes,—in misery, yet still 1365
Constrain thy soul to share my load of woe.
Ah children, your begetter and your sire
Slew you!—ye had no profit of my glory,
Of all my travail and strenuous toil to win
Renown for you—a sire’s best legacy. 1370
And thee, lost love, not in such wise I slew
As thou didst save, didst keep mine honour safe
Through all that weary warding of mine house!
Woe for my wife and children! woe for me!
How mournful is my plight, who am disyoked 1375
From babes, from bride! Ah bitter joy of kisses!
Ah bitter fellowship of these mine arms!
Keep—cast them from me—I know not which to do.
Hanging athwart my side thus will they say:
“With us thou slewest babes and wife—yet keep’st 1380
Thy childrens slayers!” Shall mine hand bear these?
What can I plead? Yet, naked of mine arms
Wherewith I wrought most glorious deeds in Greece,
‘Neath foes’ feet shall I cast me?—foully die?
Leave them I may not, to my grief must keep. 1385
In one thing help me, Theseus: come to Argos
To back my claim of hire for Cerberus brought,
Lest grief for children slay me faring lone.
Land of Kadmus, all ye Theban folk,
With shorn hair grieve with me: to my sons’ tomb 1390
Pass, and in one wail make ye moan for all—
The dead and me: we have wholly perished all,
Smitten by one sore doom from Hera’s hand.
Theseus.
Rise, sorrow-stricken: let these tears suffice.
Herakles.
I cannot: lo, my limbs are palsy-chained. 1395
Theseus.
O yea, misfortune breaketh down the strong.
Herakles.
Woe worth the day!
Ah to be turned to stone, my woes forgot!
Theseus.
No more! To a friend, a helper, reach thine hand.
Herakles.
With this blood let me not besmirch thy robes!
Theseus.
On me wipe all off! Spare not: I refuse not! 1400
Herakles.
Of sons bereaved, thee have I, like a son.
Theseus.
Cast o’er my neck thine arm; I lead thee on.
Herakles.
A yoke of love!—but one, a stricken man.
Father, well may one gain such friend as this.
Amphitryon.
The land that bare him breedeth noble sons! 1405
Herakles.
Theseus, let me turn back, to see my babes.
Theseus.
What spell to ease thy pain hath this for thee?
Herakles.
I yearn—and on my father’s breast would fall.
Amphitryon.
Lo here, my son: mine heart as thine is fain.
Theseus.
Art thou so all-forgetful of thy toils? 1410
Herakles.
All toils endured of old were light by these.
Theseus.
Who sees thee play the woman thus shall scorn.
Herakles.
Live I, thy scorn?—Once was I not, I trow!
Theseus.
Alas, yes! Where is glorious Herakles?
Herakles.
What manner of man wast thou mid Hades’ woes? 1415
Theseus.
My strength of soul was utter weakness then.
Herakles.
Were’t then for thee to say that ills crush me?
Theseus.
On then!
Herakles.
Farewell, old sire.
Amphitryon.
Farewell thou, son.
Herakles.
Bury the lads—
Amphitryon.
Who burieth me, my child?
Herakles.
I—
Amphitryon.
When com’st thou?
Herakles.
When thou hast buried them— 1420
Amphitryon.
How?
Herakles.
I from Thebes to Athens will bring thee.
Bear in my babes—this curse that loads the earth!
I, who have wasted by my shame mine house,
Like wreck in tow will trail in Theseus’ wake.
Whoso would fain possess or wealth or strength 1425
Rather than loyal friends, is sense-bereft.
Chorus.
With mourning and weeping sore do we pass away,
Who have lost the chiefest of all our friends this day.
[Exeunt omnes.