Accomplish? Or what mattered maiden rage? But now, I am Medea; in the bitter school of woe My powers have ripened. 910 [_In an ecstacy of madness._] Oh, the bliss of memory!
My infant brother slain, his limbs asunder rent, My royal father spoiled of his ancestral realm, And Pelias' guiltless daughters lured to slay their sire!
But here I must not rest; no untrained hand I bring 915 To execute my deeds. But now, by what approach Or by what weapon wilt thou threat the treacherous foe?
Deep hidden in my secret heart have I conceived A purpose which I dare not utter. Oh, I fear That in my foolish madness I have gone too far-- I would that children had been born to him of this 920 My hated rival. Still, since she hath gained his heart, His children too are hers-- That punishment would be most fitting and deserved.
Yes, now I see the final deed of crime, and thou, My soul, must face it. You, who once were called my sons, Must pay the penalty of these your father's crimes-- 925 My heart with horror melts, a numbing chill pervades My limbs, and all my soul is filled with sinking fear.
Now wrath gives place, and, heedless of my husband's sins, The tender mother-instinct quite possesses me.
And could I shed my helpless children's blood? Not so, Oh, say not so, my maddened heart! Far from my hand 930 And thought be that unnameable and hideous deed!
What sin have they that shedding of their wretched blood Would wash away?
Their sin--that Jason is their sire, And, deeper guilt, that I have borne them. Let them die; They are not mine. Nay, nay! they are my own, my sons, And with no spot of guilt. Full innocent they are, 935 'Tis true--my brother, too, was innocent. O soul, Why dost thou hesitate? Why flow these streaming tears, While with contending thoughts my wavering heart is torn?
As when conflicting winds contend in stubborn strife, And waves, to stormy waves opposed, the sea invade, 940 And to their lowest sands the briny waters boil; With such a storm my heart is tossed. Hate conquers love, And love puts impious hate to flight. Oh, yield thee, grief, To love! Then come, my sons, sole comfort of my heart, 945 Come, cling within your mother's close embrace. Unharmed Your sire may keep you, while your mother holds you too.
But flight and exile drive me forth! And even now My children must be torn away with tears and cries.
Then let them die to Jason since they're lost to me. 950 Once more has hate resumed her sway, and passion's fire Is hot within my soul. Now fury, as of yore, Reseeks her own. Lead on, I follow to the end!
I would that I had borne twice seven sons, the boast 955 Of Niobe! But all too barren have I been.
Still will my two sufficient be to satisfy My brother and my sire.
[_Sees a vision of the furies and her brother's ghost._] But whither hastes that throng Of furies? What their quest? What mean their brandished fires?
Whom threats this hellish host with horrid, bloody brands? 960 I hear the writhing lash resound of serpents huge.
Whom seeks Megaera with her deadly torch? Whose shade Comes gibbering there with scattered limbs? It is my brother!
Revenge he seeks, and we will grant his quest. Then come, Within my heart plunge all your torches, rend me, burn; 965 For lo, my bosom open to your fury's stroke.
O brother, bid these vengeful goddesses depart And go in peace down to the lowest shades of hell.
And do thou leave me to myself, and let this hand That slew thee with the sword now offer sacrifice 970 Unto thy shade.
[_Slays her first son._] What sudden uproar meets my ear?
'Tis Corinth's citizens on my destruction bent.
Unto the palace roof I'll mount and there complete This bloody sacrifice.
[_To her remaining son._] Do thou come hence with me.
But thee, poor senseless corse, within mine arms I'll bear. 975 Now gird thyself, my heart, with strength. Nor must this deed Lose all its just renown because in secret done; But to the public eye my hand must be approved.
_Jason [in the street below shouting to citizens_]: Ho, all ye loyal sons, who mourn the death of kings!
Come, let us seize the worker of this hideous crime. 980 Now ply your arms and raze her palace to the ground.
_Medea [appearing on the housetop with her two sons_]: Now, now have I regained my regal state, my sire, My brother! Once again the Colchians hold the spoil Of precious gold! And by the magic of this hour I am a maid once more. O heavenly powers, appeased At length! O festal hour! O nuptial day! On, on! 985 Accomplished is the guilt, but not the recompense.
Complete the task while yet thy hands are strong to act!
Why dost thou linger still? why dost thou hesitate Upon the threshold of the deed? Thou canst perform it.
Now wrath has died within me, and my soul is filled With shame and deep remorse. Ah me, what have I done, Wretch that I am? Wretch that thou art, well mayst thou mourn, 990 For thou hast done it!
At that thought delirious joy O'ermasters me and fills my heart which fain would grieve.
And yet, methinks, the act was almost meaningless, Since Jason saw it not; for naught has been performed If to his grief be added not the woe of sight.
_Jason_ [_discovering her_]: Lo, there she stands upon the lofty battlements! 995 Bring torches! fire the house, that she may fall ensnared By those devices she herself hath planned.
_Medea_ [_derisively_]: Not so, But rather build a lofty pyre for these thy sons; Their funeral rites prepare. Already for thy bride And father have I done the service due the dead; For in their ruined palace have I buried them.
One son of thine has met his doom; and this shall die 1000 Before his father's face.
_Jason:_ By all the gods, and by the perils of our flight, And by our marriage bond which I have ne'er betrayed, I pray thee spare the boy, for he is innocent.
If aught of sin there be, 'tis mine. Myself I give To be the victim. Take my guilty soul for his. 1005 _Medea:_ 'Tis for thy prayers and tears I draw, not sheathe the sword.
Go now, and take thee maids for wives, thou faithless one; Abandon and betray the mother of thy sons.
_Jason:_ And yet, I pray thee, let one sacrifice atone.
_Medea:_ If in the blood of one my passion could be quenched, No vengeance had it sought. Though both my sons I slay, 1010 The number still is all too small to satisfy My boundless grief.
_Jason:_ Then finish what thou hast begun-- I ask no more--and grant at least that no delay Prolong my helpless agony. 1015 _Medea:_ Now hasten not, Relentless passion, but enjoy a slow revenge.
This day is in thy hands; its fertile hours employ.
_Jason:_ Oh, take my life, thou heartless one.
Well! [_Slays the second child_.]--'Tis done!
No more atonement, passion, can I offer thee.
Now hither lift thy tearful eyes ungrateful one. 1020 Dost recognize thy wife? 'Twas thus of old I fled.
The heavens themselves provide me with a safe retreat.
[_A chariot drawn by dragons appears in the air._] Twin serpents bow their necks submissive to the yoke.
Now, father, take thy sons; while I, upon my car, With wingéd speed am borne aloft through realms of air. 1025 [_Mounts her car and is borne away._] _Jason [calling after her_]: Speed on through realms of air that mortals never see: But, witness heaven, where thou art gone no gods can be!
HERCULES FURENS HERCULES FURENS DRAMATIS PERSONAE HERCULES Son of Jupiter and Alcmena, but the reputed son of Amphitryon.
_Juno_ Sister and wife of Jupiter, and queen of heaven.
_Amphitryon_ Husband of Alcmena.
_Theseus_ King of Athens and friend of Hercules.
_Lycus_ The usurping king of Thebes, who has, prior to the opening of the play, slain king Creon in battle.
_Megara_ Wife of Hercules and daughter of Creon.
_Chorus_ Of Thebans.
THE SCENE is in the princely palace of Hercules at Thebes, on the day of the return of the hero from the lower world.
_The jealous wrath of Juno, working through Eurystheus, has imposed twelve mighty and destructive tasks on Hercules, her hated stepson.
But these, even to the last and worst, the bringing of Cerberus to the upper world, he has triumphantly accomplished. Abandoning her plan of crushing him by toils like these, she will turn his hand against himself, and so accomplish his destruction. Upon the day of his return from hell, she brings a madness on him, and so precipitates the tragedy which forms the action of the play._ ACT I _Juno_ [_in soliloquy_]: Lo I, the sister of the Thunderer (For, save this name alone, I've nothing more), Have left my lord, so often false to me, Have left, in widowhood, the realms of heaven, And, banished from the sky, have given place Unto my hated rivals. Now must earth 5 Be my abode, while they in heaven reign.
Behold, the Bear, far in the frozen north, Is set on high to guide the Argive ships; Behold, in southern skies, where days grow long Beneath the warmth of spring, the Bull shines bright, Who once the Tyrian Europa bore.
There gleam the wandering Atlantides, 10 A fearful band for ships and sea alike; And yonder fierce Orion with his sword The very gods affrights; his stars, as well, The golden Perseus boasts; while Leda's sons With shining banners glitter in the sky; And they, Latona's children, for whose birth 15 The floating land stood firm. And not alone Have Bacchus and his mother gained the heavens; But, that the infamy may be complete, The skies must needs the Cretan maiden's crown Endure. But these are ancient wrongs I tell: One wild and baneful land alone is full Of shameless mistresses--the Theban land, 20 Which all too oft has me a stepdame made.
And though Alcmena scale the heights of heaven, And hold my place, victorious over me; And though her son his promised star obtain (Whose hateful getting cost the world a day, Since Phoebus, bidden to hold his shining car 25 In Ocean hid, with tardy light shone forth From eastern seas): still ever in my heart Shall hate relentless dwell. Undying wrath My outraged soul shall kindle; and my grief, All hope of truce denying, endless wars Shall fiercely wage. But what avail my wars? 30 Whatever savage things the hurtful earth, The sea or air produce, terrific shapes, Fierce, pestilential, horrible, and dire, The power of all is broken and subdued.
Alcides towers above and thrives on woe; My wrath is his delight, and to his praise He turns my deadly hate. While I, too stern, 35 Impose his dreadful tasks, I do but prove His origin, and opportunity For glorious achievement render him.
Where Phoebus with his neighboring torch illumes The east and western shores of Aethiop's land, Alcides' dauntless courage is adored; While all the world considers him a god.
And now have I no monsters more to send; 40 And less his toil to do the tasks I bid, Than mine to set them. Joyfully he hears My several commands. But what dire tasks The tyrant may conceive can harm that youth Impetuous? His very arms, forsooth, Are torn from monsters which he feared--and slew; 45 With spoils of lion and of hydra armed, He walks abroad. Nor are the lands of earth Enough for him: behold, the doors of Dis Are burst, and to the upper world he brings The booty taken from the vanquished king.
'Tis not enough that he returns alive: The law that binds the shades is set at naught.
Myself I saw him, when he had o'ercome 50 The king of hades and escaped the night Of that deep underworld, display to Jove The spoils of Dis. But why does he not lead, Oppressed and overcome, the king himself Who gained by lot an equal realm with Jove?
Why rules he not in conquered Erebus?
Why bares he not the Styx? His upward way From deepest hell to earth he has retraced, 55 And all the sacred mysteries of death Lie open to the world. Not yet content, And proud that he has burst the bars of night, He triumphs over me, and, insolent, He leads through all the cities of the land That gruesome dog of hell. I saw, myself, The daylight pale at sight of Cerberus, 60 The sun start in affright. Nay, even I Was struck with terror; and, as I beheld That triple-headed beast in bondage led, I trembled at the thought that 'twas my will.
But all too trivial ills do I lament; My fears must be aroused for heaven itself, Lest he who overcame the lowest depths Should scale the very skies, and from his sire 65 His scepter snatch away. Nor to the stars Will he, like Bacchus, by an easy path Ascend; through ruin would he make his way, And wish to rule an empty universe.
He is inflamed with pride of tested strength; But he has learned by bearing up the heavens, That by his power the heavens can be subdued. 70 Upon his head he bore the universe, Nor did his shoulders bend beneath the weight Of that stupendous mass; the vault of heaven Upon his neck was poised, and steadily He bore the expanse of sky, the shining stars; And even me, down pressing, he endured.
He seeks a place among the immortal gods.
Then up, arouse thee to destructive wrath, 75 Destroy him meditating plans so great.
Meet him in single strife; with thine own hands Asunder rend him. Why thy mighty hate Dost thou consign to others to appease?
Enough of monsters; let Eurystheus rest, All weary with imposing thy commands.
Though thou shouldst open wide Sicilia's vaults, And free the Titans who essayed to wrench 80 The scepter from the hand of mighty Jove; Though the Doric isle, which trembles with affright Whene'er the heaving giant turns himself, Should ease her weight upon the monster's head; Though in the moon another race of beasts Should be conceived: yet all of these, I know Alcides conquered and will conquer still.
Seek'st thou his match? There is none save himself. 85 Then set him on to war against himself; Let furies from the lowest depths of hell Be roused and come to aid, their flaming locks Aglow with maddening fire, their savage hands The horrid snaky scourges brandishing.
Go now, thou proud one, seek the seats of heaven, And scorn the lot of men. And dost thou think, 90 O hero brave, that thou hast fled the Styx And gloomy shades? Here will I show thee hell; Here will I summon up the goddess dire Of Discord, deep in darkness thick confined Far down below the abode of guilty souls.
A cavern huge within a mountain's hold Is her dark prison. Her will I call forth, 95 And from the deepest realms of Dis bring up Whate'er thou hast escaped: base Crime shall come; Impiety that fiercely stains its hands In kindred blood; the shape of Error, too, And Fury ever armed against itself.
This, this assistance shall my grief employ.
Come then, ye ever-faithful slaves of Dis, 100 Begin your task. Shake high the blazing torch; And let Megaera lead her dreadful band Of sisters viperous. With deadly hand Let her from off the blazing funeral pyre A burning brand snatch up. Now to your task; Thus seek revenge for violated Styx: Distract his heart with madness; let his soul 105 More fiercely burn than that hot fire which glows On Aetna's forge. But first, that Hercules May be to madness driven, smitten through With mighty passion, I must be insane.
Why rav'st thou not, O Juno? Me, Oh, me, 110 Ye sisters, first of sanity deprive, That something worthy of a stepdame's wrath I may prepare. Let all my hate be changed To favor. Now I pray that he may come To earth again, and see his sons unharmed; May he return with all his old-time strength.
Now have I found a day when Hercules May help me with his strength that I deplore. 115 Now let him equally o'ercome himself And me; and let him, late escaped from death, Desire to die. Now let it profit me That he is born of Jove. I'll stand by him And nicely poise his hand, that so his darts May with more deadly aim be hurled. I'll guide The madman's arms. And so at last I help 120 Alcides in his wars. The crime complete, Then let his father to the heavens admit Those guilty hands. Now must the attack begin.
The day is breaking, and with saffron light The rising sun dispels the gloom of night.
* * * * * _Chorus:_ Now scattered and with paling light 125 The stars gleam in the sinking west; Now vanquished night collects her fires, Whose shining band at the day's return The star of morning drives away.
High up in the frozen northern sky, The Arcadian Bears with their seven-fold stars, 130 Their course completed, hail the dawn.
Now borne along by his azure steeds The sun looks forth from Oeta's ridge; With whose light suffused, the clustering grapes In the vineyards to Theban Bacchus dear Flush rosy red. The waning moon 135 Fades out of sight, to return again.
Hard Toil awakens, at whose knock The doors of men are opened wide, And daily cares resumed.
The shepherd sends his flock afield, And plucks, himself, the tender grass 140 Still sparkling with the frosty rime.
The young bull sports among the fields At liberty; the dams refill Their empty udders; sportive kids Leap lightly o'er the tender grass 145 In aimless course. On the topmost branch The Thracian Philomela sings Her strident song, and near her nest Of chattering young she spreads her wings To the morning sun; while all around 150 The throng of birds with united songs Announce the day.
The daring sailor spreads his sails To the freshening wind, as the breezes fill Their flapping folds. From wave-worn rocks The fisher leans and baits anew His cunning hook; he feels his line 155 A-tremble with the struggling fish, Or weighs his prize with practiced hand And eager eye.
Such are the joys of him who lives 160 In tranquil and unworried peace; Whose pleasure is a humble house, His own, though small; whose simple hopes Are in the open fields.[17] But worried hopes in cities dwell, And trembling fears. There some would haunt The rich man's haughty vestibules, Wait at their proud, unfeeling doors, 165 Forego their sleep. Some heap up wealth, Though blest with boundless wealth, and gaze In admiration at their heaps; And yet, with all their gold, are poor.
Some strain for the applause of men, The vulgar throng, whose fickle will Is shifting as the sea, and swell 170 With empty pride. The noisy mart Still others claim, who meanly deal In quarrelsome suits, and profit make Of wrath and empty words.
Few know untroubled peace, the men Who, heeding time's swift flight, hold fast 175 The years that never will return.
While fate permits, live happily; For life runs on with rapid pace, And with headlong speed the year's swift wheel 180 With winged hours is turned.
The cruel sisters urge their task, Nor backward turn the threads of life.
But the race of men is hurried on To meet the quick approaching fates, Uncertain of their own.
Of our own will we haste to cross 185 The Stygian waves. Thou, Hercules, With heart too brave, before thy time Didst see the grieving shades. The fates In pre-established order come; And none may stay when they command, None may put off the appointed day. 190 The swiftly whirling urn of fate Contains all mortal men.
Let glory then to many lands Proclaim some names, and chattering fame Through every city sing their praise, And raise them to the stars. Sublime 195 In triumph let another ride.
Me let my native land conceal Within a safe and humble home.
'Tis unambitious souls who come To hoary-headed age at last.
If humble, still the lot is sure Of lowly homes. Souls lifted high, 200 For this to greater depths must fall.
But see, sad Megara comes with flowing hair, Her little children closely pressing round; And with her, with the tardy step of age, The sire of Hercules, Amphitryon.
FOOTNOTES: ACT II _Megara:_ O mighty ruler of Olympus' heights, 205 Thou judge of all the world, now set at length A limit to my cares, and make an end Of my disasters. No untroubled day Doth dawn for me; but one misfortune's end Marks but the starting-point of future woes.
Fresh foes are ready for my Hercules Straightway on his return; ere he can reach 210 His happy home, another warfare bids That he set forth again. No time for rest Is given, save while he waits a fresh command.
'Twas ever thus: from earliest infancy Unfriendly Juno follows on his track.
Was e'en his cradle free from her assaults?
He conquered monsters ere he learned to know 215 What monsters were. Two crested serpents huge Against him reared their heads; the dauntless child Crawled forth to meet them, and, with placid gaze Intently fixed upon their fiery eyes, With fearless look he raised their close-coiled folds, 220 And crushed their swollen necks with tender hand.
And thus he practiced for the hydra's death.
He caught the nimble stag of Maenalus, Its beauteous head adorned with horns of gold.
The lion, terror of Nemean woods, Groaned out his life beneath the mighty arms 225 Of Hercules. Why should I call to mind The stables dire of that Bistonian herd, And the king as food to his own horses given?
The rough Maenalian boar, which, from his lair On Erymanthus' thickly wooded heights, Filled all the groves of Arcady with dread?
Or that fell Cretan bull whose terror filled 230 A hundred towns? Among his herds remote, The three-formed shepherd by Tartessus' shore Was slain, and from the farthest west his herds Were driven as booty. Now Cithaeron feeds The cattle once to Ocean known. Again, When bidden to penetrate the sultry zone 235 Of summer's burning sun, those scorchéd realms Which midday parches with its piercing rays, He clove the ponderous mountain barriers, And made a pathway for the rushing sea.
He next assailed the rich Hesperides, And bore therefrom the watchful dragon's spoil 240 Of golden fruit. Then Lerna's savage beast, An evil creature constantly renewed, Did he not overcome by fire at last, And teach it how to die? Did he not seek Within the clouds the dire Stymphalian birds, Whose spreading wings were wont to obscure the day?
He was not conquered by the maiden queen 245 Who ruled the Amazons and ever kept Her couch in virgin state. Nor did his hands, Courageous to attempt all glorious deeds, Disdain to cleanse the vile Augean stalls.
But what avail these toils? For he alone Cannot enjoy the world he saved. And now The world perceives the giver of its peace 250 Is absent from its sight. Now prosperous crime Is called by virtue's name; good men obey The guilty, might is counted right, and fear O'ershadows law. Before my eyes I saw The sons who dared defend their father's throne Fall dead beneath the tyrant's murderous hand; 255 I saw King Creon's self by death o'ercome, The latest son of Cadmus' noble line; And with his head the royal diadem Was reft away. Who now could weep enough For Thebes? Proud land and mother of the gods, What master fears she now, she, from whose fields 260 And fertile bosom sprang that band of youth With swords all ready drawn; whose mighty walls Amphion, son of Jove, once built, its stones Compelling by the magic of his lyre; Down to whose citadel not once alone The father of the gods from heaven came?
This royal city which the immortals oft Has entertained, which has divinities 265 Produced, and (heaven forgive the boastful word) Perchance will yet produce, is now oppressed Beneath a shameful yoke. O royal race Of Cadmus, noble state Amphion ruled, Low hast thou fallen indeed! Dost thou obey A low-born exile, driven from his land 270 And yet oppressing ours? And now, alas, He, who on land and sea doth punish crime, Who breaks all cruel rule with righteous hand, Far off obeys another, and himself Endures those ills from which he others saved; And Lycus rules the Thebes of Hercules!
But not for long; he soon will come again, 275 And punish all the wrongs; he suddenly Will to the upper world emerge; a way He'll find--or make. Oh, come unharmed, I pray; As victor come at last unto thy home Which now in ruins lies. O husband, come, With thy strong hand break through the shades of hell. 280 And if no way is open, if the road Is closely barred, then rend the earth and come; And all that lies in keep of dismal night Bring forth with thee. As once, through riven hills A passage seeking for a headlong stream, Thou stood'st, and, with thy strength gigantic cleft, 285 The vale of Tempe opened wide; as then, Impelled by might of thy resistless breast, The mountains fell away from either side, And through the broken masses poured the stream Of Thessaly along a channel new: So now to parents, children, native land, A passage burst. And bring away with thee 290 The shapes of death, and all that greedy time Through countless rounds of years has hidden away; Those nations who have drunk forgetfulness, Drive out before thee, fearful of the light.
The spoils are all unworthy of thy fame, If thou shouldst bring from hades only that 295 Which was commanded. But too bold my words, And thoughtless of my present lot I speak.
Oh, when will come at last that day for me When I shall clasp my husband once again, And weep no more his long-delayed return, His long forgetfulness of me? To thee, O ruler of the gods, a hundred bulls Shall bleed; to thee, thou goddess of the fruits, 300 Thy secret rites I'll pay: for thee shall blaze Upon Eleusin's shrine the sacred torch In celebration of thy mysteries.
Then shall I think my brothers' lives restored, My father once again upon his throne. 305 But if some power more potent than thine own Holds thee in durance, we shall come to thee.
Return in safety and protect us all, Or drag us down with thee. This wilt thou do; No god will e'er our broken fortunes mend.
_Amphitr.:_ O ally of my house, with wifely faith Preserving for the great-souled Hercules 310 His couch and children, be of better mind.
Take heart again, for surely he will come, Increased in fame by this, as is his wont By other tasks.
_Megara:_ What wretched men desire They readily believe.
_Amphitryon:_ Nay, what they fear They think can never be escaped or borne. 315 For fear is prone to see the darker side.
_Megara:_ Submerged, deep buried, crushed beneath the world, What chance has he to reach the upper realms?
_Amphitr.:_ The same he had, when, through the arid plain, And sands that billowed like the stormy sea, 320 Those twice receding, twice returning gulfs, He made his way; when on the dangerous shoals Of Syrtes he was wrecked, he left his ship A helpless hulk and crossed the sea on foot.
_Megara:_ Unjust is fortune, rarely does she spare 325 The bravest souls. No one with safety long Can brave so frequent perils; he who oft Has shunned misfortune meets at last his fate.
But see, with threatening looks fierce Lycus comes, His hateful soul in hateful bearing shown, 330 And bears the stolen scepter in his hand.
[_Enter_ Lycus.]
_Lycus:_ The rich domain of this proud town of Thebes, With all the fertile soil which Phocis bounds Within its winding borders, all the land Ismenus waters; all Cithaeron sees 335 From his high top; the narrow Isthmus, too, Two seas asunder cleaving: all I own, Not by prerogative of long descent, A worthless heir. No noble ancestors, Nor family adorned with lofty names Have I; but splendid valor. He who boasts 340 His noble ancestry exalts a thing Which is not his to boast. But power usurped Is held with anxious hands; the sword alone Can guard it. All thou hold'st against the will Of citizens the sword must hold for thee.
No kingdom built upon a foreign soil 345 Is safe for long. One thing alone I see Which can our power establish--Megara, By ties of royal marriage bound to me.
From her illustrious line my humble blood Shall a richer hue derive. Nor do I think That she will scorn me and refuse my suit.
But should she with a blind and stubborn soul 350 Refuse my proffered hand, my mind is fixed To give to utter ruin all the house Of Hercules. Will such a deed arouse A storm of scandal and the people's hate?
The art of ruling chiefly lies in this: The power to bear the people's hate unmoved.
Let me make trial then. Occasion smiles, For she herself, in mourning vestments clad, 355 Stands by the altars of her guardian gods, While near at hand Alcides' father waits.
_Megara_ [_seeing_ Lycus, _aside_]: What new outrage does yonder wretch prepare, The pestilent destroyer of our race?
From royal stock, with patient ear awhile Receive my words. If everlasting hate The hearts of men should feel, if fury dire, Once in the heart conceived, should never cease; If prosperous men must ever fight to rule, And those who fail obey because they must: Then never-ending wars would nothing leave, 365 And all the fields would be a barren waste; Homes would be burned, and 'neath their ashes deep All nations of the earth would be o'erwhelmed.
The victor's profit is in peace restored, But for the vanquished 'tis their direful need.
Come, share my throne; let us unite our wills. 370 And, as my pledge of faith, receive my hand.
But why dost thou in scornful silence wait?
_Megara:_ And dost thou think that I would touch the hand That is besprinkled with my father's gore, And my two brothers' blood? Oh, sooner far Shall day's last beams go out in eastern skies, And dawn break in the west; sooner shall peace 375 Be made 'twixt snow and flame, and Scylla join Sicilia's shores with those of Italy; And sooner shall Euripus' rushing waves Lap peacefully upon Euboea's shores.
My father and my brothers hast thou slain, My kingdom ruined, home and native land.
What still is left? One thing remains to me, 380 That's dearer than my father, brother, home, And kingdom: 'tis my deadly hate of thee.
That I must share this with the land at large Is grief to me. For in their cause for hate How small a share have I? Thou, swollen with pride, Rule on, and let thy soul exalt itself; But know that evermore the avenging god Pursues the proud of heart. Well do I know 385 The history of Thebes. Why need I tell Of matrons who have dared and suffered wrong?
Why name the double crime, the mingled names Of husband, father, son, the opposing camps Of brothers? Why describe the funeral pyres?
The haughty mother, child of Tantalus, 390 Still sits in stony grief; the mourning rock On Phrygian Sipylus still drips with tears.
Nay, Cadmus' self, in form of serpent, still Flees through Illyria's realm with crested head, And leaves behind his dragging body's trail.
Such fates admonish thee. Rule as thou wilt: 395 But may the accustomed doom of Thebes be thine.
_Lycus:_ Come then, have done with this wild talk of thine, And learn from Hercules to obey the will Of kings. Although by right of victory I wield this scepter, though I reign supreme 400 Without the fear of laws which arms annul, Still will I briefly speak in my defense.
And did thy father fall in bloody war?
Thy brothers too? But arms no limit know, Cannot be checked with ease, nor can the sword, Once drawn, restrain its wrath. War will have blood. 405 But (you will say), he fought to save his state, While I was prompted by the lust of power.
Still we should look, not at the cause of war, But at its outcome. Now let memory Of all the former wrongs pass from thy heart.
When the victor lays aside his arms, 'tis meet The vanquished should abandon hatred too. 410 I ask thee not upon thy bended knees To acknowledge me as king; for it is well That thou shouldst meet thy ruin dauntlessly.
Lo, thou art worthy of a royal mate: Be then my wife and not my enemy.
_Megara:_ Cold horror creeps throughout my lifeless limbs.