Her former force awakes, thus I have seen 660 Medea raging and attacking god, Compelling heaven. Greater crime than then She now prepares, for as with frantic step She sought the sanctuary of her crimes, She poured forth all her threats; and what before 665 She feared she now brings forth; lets loose a host Of poisonous evils, arts mysterious; With sad left hand outstretched invokes all ills That Libyan sands with their fierce heat create, Or frost-bound Taurus with perpetual snow 670 Encompasses. Drawn by her magic spell The serpent drags his heavy length along, Darts his forked tongue, and seeks his destined prey.
Hearing her incantation, he draws back And knots his swelling body coiling it.-- 675 'They are but feeble poisons earth brings forth, And harmless darts,' she says, 'heaven's ills I seek.
Now is the time for deeper sorcery.
The dragon like a torrent shall descend, Whose mighty folds the Great and Lesser Bear 680 Know well; Ophiuchus shall loose his grasp And poison flow. Be present at my call, Python, who dared to fight twin deities.
The Hydra slain by Hercules shall come Healed of his wound. Thou watchful Colchian one, 685 Be present with the rest--thou, who first slept Lulled by my incantations.' When the brood Of serpents has been called she blends the juice Of poisonous herbs; all Eryx' pathless heights Bear, or the open top of Caucasus 690 Wet with Prometheus' blood, where winter reigns; All that the rich Arabians use to tip Their poisoned shafts, or the light Parthians, Or warlike Medes; all the brave Suabians cull In the Hyrcanian forests in the north; 695 All poisons that the earth brings forth in spring When birds are nesting; or when winter cold Has torn away the beauty of the groves And bound the world in icy manacles.
Whatever herb gives flower the cause of death, 700 Or juice of twisted root, her hands have culled.
These on Thessalian Athos grew, and those On mighty Pindus; on Pangæus' height She cut the tender herbs with bloody scythe.
These Tigris nurtured with its current deep, 705 The Danube those; Hydaspes rich in gems Flowing with current warm through levels dry, Bætis that gives its name to neighboring lands And meets the western ocean languidly, Have nurtured these. Those have been cut at dawn; 710 These other herbs at dead of night were reaped; And these were gathered with the enchanted hook.
Death-dealing plants she chooses, wrings the blood Of serpents, and she takes ill-omened birds, The sad owl's heart, the quivering entrails cut 715 From the horned owl living;--sorts all these.
In some the eager force of flame is found, In some the bitter cold of sluggish ice; To these she adds the venom of her words As greatly to be feared. She stamps her feet; 720 She sings, and the world trembles at her song.
SCENE II _Medea, before the altar of Hecate._ _Medea._ Here I invoke you, silent company, Infernal gods, blind Chaos, sunless home Of shadowy Dis, and squalid caves of Death Bound by the banks of Tartarus. Lost souls, 725 For this new bridal leave your wonted toil.
Stand still, thou whirling wheel, Ixion touch Again firm ground; come, Tantalus, and drink Unchecked the wave of the Pirenian fount.
Let heavier punishment on Creon wait:-- 730 Thou stone of Sisyphus, worn smooth, roll back; And ye Danaïdes who strive in vain To fill your leaking jars, I need your aid.
Come at my invocation, star of night, Endued with form most horrible, nor threat 735 With single face, thou three-formed deity!
To thee, according to my country's use, With hair unfilleted and naked feet I've trod the sacred groves; called forth the rain From cloudless skies; have driven back the sea; 740 And forced the ocean to withdraw its waves.
Earth sees heaven's laws confused, the sun and stars Shining together, and the two Bears wet In the forbidden ocean. I have changed The circle of the seasons:--at my word 745 Earth flourishes with summer; Ceres sees A winter harvest; Phasis' rushing stream Flows to its source; the Danube that divides Into so many mouths restrains its flood Of waters--hardly moving past its shores. 750 The winds are silent; but the waters speak, The wild seas roar; the home of ancient groves Loses its leafy shade; the day withdraws At my command; the sun stands still in heaven.
My incantations move the Hyades. 755 It is thy hour, Diana!
For thee my bloody hands have wrought this crown Nine times by serpents girt; those knotted snakes Rebellious Typhon bore, who made revolt Against Jove's kingdom; Nessus gave this blood 760 When dying; Œta's funeral pyre provides These ashes which have drunk the poisoned blood Of dying Hercules; and here thou seest Althea's vengeful brand. The harpies left These feathers in the pathless den they made 765 A refuge when they fled from Zete's wrath; And these were dropped by the Stymphalian birds That felt the wound of arrows dipped in blood Of the Lernæan Hydra.
The altars find a voice, the tripod moves 770 Stirred by the favoring goddess. Her swift car I see approach--not the full-orbed that rolls All night through heaven; but as, with darkened light, Troubled by the Thessalians she comes, So her sad face upon my altars sheds 775 A murky light. Terrify with new dread The men of earth! Costly Corinthian brass Sounds in thy honor, Hecate, and on ground Made red with blood I pay these solemn rites To thee; for thee have stolen from the tomb 780 This torch that gives its baleful funeral light; To thee with bowed head I have made my prayer; And in accordance with my country's use, My loose hair filleted, have plucked for thee This branch that grows beside the Stygian wave; 785 Like a wild Mænad, laying bare my breast, With sacred knife I cut for thee my arm; My blood is on the altars! Hand, learn well To strike thy dearest! See, my blood flows forth!
Daughter of Perseus, have I asked too oft 790 Thine aid? Recall no more my former prayers.
To-day as always I invoke thine aid For Jason's sake alone! Endue this robe With such a baleful power that the bride May feel at its first touch consuming fire 795 Of serpent's poison in her inmost veins; Let fire lurk hid in the bright gold, the fire Prometheus gave and taught men how to store-- He now atones his daring theft from heaven With tortured vitals. Mulciber has given 800 This flame, and I in sulphur nurtured it; I brought a spark from the destroying fire Of Phaeton; I have the flame breathed forth By the Chimæra, and the fire I snatched From Colchis' savage bull; and mixed with these 805 Medusa's venom. I have bade all serve My secret sorcery; now, Hecate, add The sting of poison, aid the seeds of flame Hid in my gift; let them deceive the sight But burn the touch; let the heat penetrate 810 Her very heart and veins, stiffen her limbs, Consume her bones in smoke. Her burning hair Shall glow more brightly than the nuptial torch!
My vows are paid, and Hecate thrice has barked, And shaken fire from her funeral torch. 815 'Tis finished! Call my sons. My precious gifts, Ye shall be borne by them to the new bride.
Go, go, my sons, a hapless mother's sons!
Placate with gifts and prayers your father's wife!
But come again with speed, that I may know 820 A last embrace!
SCENE III _Chorus._ Where hastes the blood-stained Mænad, headlong driven By angry love? What mischief plots her rage?
With wrath her face grows rigid; her proud head She fiercely shakes; threatens the king in wrath. 825 Who would believe her exiled from the realm?
Her cheeks glow crimson, pallor puts to flight The red, no color lingers on her face; Her steps are driven to and fro as when A tiger rages, of its young bereft, 830 Beside the Ganges in the gloomy woods.
Medea knows not how to curb her love Or hate. Now love and hate together rage.
When will she leave the fair Pelasgian fields, The wicked Colchian one, and free from fear 835 Our king and kingdom? Drive with no slow rein Thy car, Diana; let the sweet night hide The sunlight. Hesperus, end the dreaded day.
ACT V SCENE I _Messenger_ [_enters in haste_]. All are destroyed, the royal empire falls, Father and child lie in one funeral pyre. 840 _Chorus._ Destroyed by what deceit?
_Messenger._ That which is wont To ruin princes--gifts.
_Chorus._ Could these work harm?
_Messenger._ I myself wonder, and can hardly deem The wrong accomplished, though I know it done.
_Chorus._ How did it happen?
Spreads everywhere as at command; even now The city is in fear, the palace burned.
_Chorus._ Let water quench the flames.
_Messenger._ It will not these, As by a miracle floods feed the fire.
The more we fight it so much more it glows. 850 SCENE II _Medea, Nurse._ _Nurse._ Up! up! Medea! Swiftly flee the land Of Pelops; seek in haste a distant shore.
_Medea._ Shall I fly? I? Were I already gone I would return for this, that I might see These new betrothals. Dost thou pause, my soul? 855 This joy's but the beginning of revenge.
Thou dost but love if thou art satisfied To widow Jason. Seek new penalties, Honor is gone and maiden modesty,-- It were a light revenge pure hands could yield. 860 Strengthen thy drooping spirit, stir up wrath, Drain from thy heart its all of ancient force, Thy deeds till now call honor; wake, and act, That they may see how light, how little worth, All former crime--the prelude of revenge! 865 What was there great my novice hands could dare?
What was the madness of my girlhood days?
I am Medea now, through sorrow strong.
Rejoice, because through thee thy brother died; Rejoice, because through thee his limbs were torn, 870 Through thee thy father lost the golden fleece; Rejoice, that armed by thee his daughters slew Old Pelias! Seek revenge! No novice hand Thou bring'st to crime; what wilt thou do; what dart Let fly against thy hated enemy? 875 I know not what my maddened spirit plots, Nor yet dare I confess it to myself!
In folly I made haste--would that my foe Had children by this other! Mine are his, We'll say Creusa bore them! 'Tis enough; 880 Through them my heart at last finds full revenge; My soul must be prepared for this last crime.
Ye who were once my children, mine no more, Ye pay the forfeit for your father's crimes.
Awe strikes my spirit and benumbs my hand; 885 My heart beats wildly; mother-love drives out Hate of my husband; shall I shed their blood-- My children's blood? Demented one, rage not, Be far from thee this crime! What guilt is theirs?
Is Jason not their father?--guilt enough! 890 And worse, Medea claims them as her sons.
They are not sons of mine, so let them die!
Nay, rather let them perish since they are!
But they are innocent--my brother was!
Fear'st thou? Do tears already mar thy cheek? 895 Do wrath and love like adverse tides impel Now here, now there? As when the winds wage war, And the wild waves against each other smite, My heart is beaten; duty drives out fear, As wrath drives duty. Anger dies in love. 900 Dear sons, sole solace of a storm-tossed house, Come hither, he may have you safe if I May claim you too! But he has banished me; Already from my bosom torn away They go lamenting--perish then to both, 905 To him as me! My wrath again grows hot; Furies, I go wherever you may lead.
Would that the children of the haughty child Of Tantalus were mine, that I had borne Twice seven sons! In bearing only two 910 I have been cursed! And yet it is enough For father, brother, that I have borne two.-- Where does that horde of furies haste? whom seek?
For whom prepare their fires? or for whom Intends the infernal band its bloody torch? 915 Whom does Megaera seek with hostile brand?
The mighty dragon lashes its fierce tail-- What shade uncertain brings its scattered limbs?
It is my brother, and he seeks revenge; I grant it, thrust the torches in my eyes; 920 Kill, burn, the furies have me in their power!
Brother, command the avenging goddesses To leave me, and the shades to seek their place In the infernal regions without fear; Here leave me to myself, and use this hand 925 That held the sword--your soul has found revenge.
[_Kills one of her sons._ What is the sudden noise? They come in arms And think to drive me into banishment.
I will go up on the high roof, come thou; I'll take the body with me. Now my soul, 930 Strike! hold not hid thy power, but show the world What thou art able.
[_She goes out with the nurse and the living boy, and carries with her the body of her dead son._ SCENE III _Jason in the foreground, Medea with the children appears upon the roof._ _Jason._ Ye faithful ones, who share In the misfortunes of your harassed king, Hasten to take the author of these deeds. 935 Come hither, hither, cohorts of brave men; Bring up your weapons; overthrow the house.
_Medea._ I have recaptured now my crown and throne, My brother and my father; Colchians hold The golden fleece; my kingdom is won back; 940 My lost virginity returns to me!
O gods appeased, marriage, and happy days, Go now,--my vengeance is complete! Not yet-- Finish it while thy hands are strong to strike.
Why seek delay? Why hesitate, my soul? 945 Thou art able! All thine anger falls to nought!
I do repent of that which I have done!
Why did'st thou do it, miserable one?
Yea, miserable! Ruth shall follow thee!
'Tis done, great joy fills my unwilling heart, 950 And, lo, the joy increases. But one thing Before was lacking--Jason did not see!
All that he has not seen I count as lost.
_Jason._ She threatens from the roof; let fire be brought, 954 That she may perish burned with her own flame.
_Medea._ Pile high the funeral pyre of thy sons, And rear their tomb. To Creon and thy wife I have already paid the honors due.
This son is dead, and this shall soon be so, And thou shalt see him perish.
_Jason._ By the gods, 960 By our sad flight together, and the bond I have not willingly forsaken, spare Our son! If there is any crime, 'tis mine; Put me to death, strike down the guilty one.
_Medea._ There where thou askest mercy, and canst feel 965 The sting, I thrust the sword. Go, Jason, seek Thy virgin bride, desert a mother's bed.
_Jason._ Let one suffice for vengeance.
_Medea._ Had it been That one could satisfy my hands with blood, I had slain none. But two is not enough. 970 _Jason._ Then go, fill up the measure of thy crime, I ask for nothing but that thou should'st make A speedy end.
_Medea._ Now, grief, take slow revenge; It is my day; haste not, let me enjoy.
[_Kills the other child._ _Jason._ Slay me, mine enemy!
_Medea._ Dost thou implore 975 My pity? It is well! I am avenged.
Grief, there is nothing more that thou canst slay!
Look up, ungrateful Jason, recognize Thy wife; so I am wont to flee. The way Lies open through the skies; two dragons bend Their necks, submissive to the yoke. I go 981 In my bright car through heaven. Take thy sons!
[_She casts down to him the bodies of her children, and is borne away in a chariot drawn by dragons._ _Jason._ Go through the skies sublime, and going prove 983 That the gods dwell not in the heavens you seek.
THE DAUGHTERS OF TROY _DRAMATIS PERSONAE_ AGAMEMNON.
ULYSSES.
PYRRHUS.
CALCHAS.
TALTHYBIUS.
ASTYANAX.
HECUBA.
ANDROMACHE.
HELEN.
POLYXENA.
AN OLD MAN.
MESSENGER.
CHORUS OF TROJAN WOMEN.
SCENE--_Troy._ THE DAUGHTERS OF TROY ACT I SCENE I _Hecuba._ Let him who puts his trust in kingly crown, Who rules in prince's court with power supreme, Who, credulous of heart, dreads not the gods, But in his happy lot confides, behold My fate and Troy's. Never by clearer proof 5 Was shown how frail a thing is human pride.
Strong Asia's capital, the work of gods, Is fallen; and she beneath whose banners fought The men who drink the Tanais' cold stream That flows by sevenfold outlet to the sea, 10 And those who see the new-born day where blends Tigris' warm waters with the blushing strait, Is fallen; her walls and towers, to ashes burned, Lie low amid her ruined palaces.
The flames destroy the city; far and near 15 Smolders the home of King Assaracus.
But flames stay not the eager conqueror's hand From plundering Troy. The sky is hid with smoke; And day, as though enveloped in black cloud, Is dark with ashes. Eager for revenge, 20 The victor stands and measures her slow fall; Forgets the long ten years; deplores her fate; Nor yet believes that he has vanquished her, Although he sees her conquered in the dust.
The pillagers are busy with the spoil; 25 A thousand ships will hardly bear it hence.
Witness, ye adverse deities; and ye, My country's ashes, and thou, Phrygia's king, Buried beneath the ruins of thy realm; Ye spirits of the mighty, in whose life 30 Troy lived; and ye my offspring, lesser shades;-- Whatever ills have happened; whatsoe'er The priestess of Apollo, to whose word The god denied belief, has prophesied, I, going great with child, have earlier feared, 35 Nor feared in silence, though in vain I spoke;-- Cassandra too has prophesied in vain.
Alas, 'twas not the crafty Ithacan, Nor the companions of his night attack, Nor Sinon false, who flung into your midst 40 Devouring flame; the glowing torch was mine!
Aged, and sick of life, why weep for Troy?
Unhappy one, recall more recent woes; The fall of Troy is now an ancient grief!
I've seen the murder of a king--base crime! 45 And, at the altar's foot allowed, I've seen A baser crime, when Æacus' fierce son, His left hand in the twisted locks, bent back That royal head, and drove the iron home In the deep wound; freely it was received, 50 And buried deep, and yet drawn forth unstained, So sluggish is the blood of frozen age.
This old man's cruel death at the last mete Of human life; and the immortal gods, Witnesses of the deed; and fallen Troy's 55 Fair altars, cannot stay the savage hand.
Priam, the father of so many kings, Has found no grave, and in the flames of Troy No funeral pyre, and yet the wrathful gods Are not appeased; behold, the lot is cast 60 That gives to Priam's daughters and his sons A master; and I go to servitude.
This one seeks Hector's wife, this Helenus'; And this Antenor's; nor are wanting those Who long for thee, Cassandra; me alone 65 They shun, and I alone affright the Greeks.
Why cease your lamentations, captive ones?
Make moan, and smite your breasts, pay funeral rites; Let fatal Ida, home of your harsh judge, Reëcho long your sorrowful lament. 70 SCENE II _Hecuba, Chorus of Trojan Women._ _Chorus._ You bid those weep who are not new to grief; Our lamentations have not ceased to rise From that day when the Phrygian stranger sought Grecian Amyclæ; and the sacred pine Of Mother Cybele, through Grecian seas 75 A pathway cut. Ten times the winter snows Have whitened Ida--Ida stripped of trees To furnish Trojan dead with funeral pyres-- Ten times the trembling reaper has gone forth To cut the bearded grain from Ilium's fields, 80 Since any day has seen us free from tears.
New sorrows ask new mourning, lift thy hand And beat upon thy breast: thy followers, queen, Are not inept at weeping.
_Hecuba._ Faithful ones, Companions of my grief, unbind your hair; 85 About your shoulders let it flow defiled With Troy's hot ashes; come with breast exposed, Carelessly loosened robes, and naked limbs; Why veil your modest bosoms, captive ones?
Gird up your flowing tunics, free your hands 90 For fierce and frequent beating of your breasts.
So I am satisfied, I recognize My Trojan followers; again I hear Their wonted lamentations. Weep indeed; We weep for Hector.
_Chorus._ We unbind our hair, 95 So often torn in wild laments, and strew Troy's glowing ashes on our heads; permit Our loosened robe to drop from shoulders bare; Our naked bosoms now invite our blows.
O sorrow, show thy power; let Rhœta's shores 100 Give back the blows, nor from her hollow hills Faint Echo sound the closing words alone, But let her voice repeat each bitter groan, And earth and ocean hear. With cruel blows Smite, smite, nor be content with faint laments: 105 We weep for Hector.
_Hecuba._ For thee our hands have torn our naked arms And bleeding shoulders; Hector, 'tis for thee We beat our brows and lacerate our breasts; The wounds inflicted in thy funeral rites 110 Still gape and flow with blood. Thou, Hector, wast The pillar of thy land, her fates' delay, The prop of wearied Phrygians, and the wall Of Troy; by thee supported, firm she stood, Ten years upheld. With thee thy country fell, 115 Her day of doom and Hector's were the same.
Weep now for Priam, smite for him your breasts; Hector has tears enough.
_Chorus._ Pilot of Phrygia, twice a captive made, Receive our tears, receive our wild laments. 120 Whilst thou wast king, Troy suffered many woes; Twice by Greek weapons were her walls assailed; Twice were they made a target for the darts Of Hercules; and when that kingly band, Hecuba's offspring, had been offered up, 125 With thee, their sire, the funeral rites were stayed; An offering to great Jove, thy headless trunk Lies on Sigea's plain.
_Hecuba._ Women of Troy, For others shed your tears; not Priam's death I weep; say rather all, thrice happy he! 130 Free he descended to the land of shades, Nor will he ever bear on conquered neck The Grecian yoke; nor the Atrides see; Nor look on shrewd Ulysses; nor, a slave, Carry the trophies on his neck to grace 135 A Grecian triumph; feel his sceptered hands Bound at his back; nor add a further pomp To proud Mycene, forced in golden chains To follow Agamemnon's royal car.
_Chorus._ Thrice happy Priam! as a king he went 140 Into the land of spirits; wanders now Through the safe shadows of Elysian Fields, In happiness among the peaceful shades, And seeks for Hector. Happy Priam say!
Thrice happy he, who, dying in the fight, 145 Bears with him to destruction all his land.
ACT II SCENE I _Talthybius, Chorus of Trojan Women._ _Talthybius._ O long delay, that holds the Greeks in port, Whether they seek for war or for their homes.
_Chorus._ Say what the reason of the long delay, What god forbids the Greeks the homeward road? 150 _Talthybius._ I tremble, and my spirit shrinks with fear; Such prodigies will hardly find belief.
I saw them, I myself; Titan had touched The mountain summits, dayspring conquered night, When, on a sudden, with a muttered groan, 155 Earth trembled, in the woods the tree-tops shook; The lofty forests and the sacred grove Thundered with mighty ruin; Ida's cliffs Fell from her summit; nor did earth alone Tremble, the ocean also recognized 160 Achilles' coming, and laid bare her depths; In the torn earth a gloomy cavern yawned; A way was opened up from Erebus To upper day; the tomb gave up its dead; The towering shade of the Thessalian chief 165 Leaped forth as when, preparing for thy fate, O Troy, he put to flight the Thracian host, And struck down Neptune's shining, fair-haired son; Or as when, breathing battle from the field, He filled the rivers with the fallen dead, 170 And Xanthus wandered over bloody shoals Seeking slow channels; or as when he stood In his proud car, a victor, while he dragged Hector and Troy behind him in the dust.
His wrathful voice rang out along the shore: 175 'Go, go, ye slothful ones, pay honors due My manes. Let the thankless ships be freed To sail my seas. Not lightly Greece has felt Achilles' wrath; that wrath shall heavier fall.
Polyxena, betrothed to me in death, 180 Must die a sacrifice at Pyrrhus' hand, And make my tomb glow crimson.' Thus he spake, Shadowed the day with night, and sought again The realm of Dis. He took the riven path; Earth closed above him, and the tranquil sea 185 Lay undisturbed, the raging wind was still, Softly the ocean murmured, Tritons sang From the blue deep their hymeneal chant.
SCENE II _Pyrrhus._ When, homeward turning, you would fain have spread Your happy sails, Achilles was forgot. 190 By him alone struck down, Troy fell; her fall, Ev'n at his death, was but so long delayed As she stood doubtful whither she should fall; Haste as you will to give him what he asks You give too late. Already all the chiefs 195 Have carried off their prizes; what reward Of lesser price have you to offer him For so great valor? Does he merit less?
He, bidden shun the battle and enjoy A long and happy age, outnumbering 200 The many years of Pylos' aged king, Threw off his mother's mantle, stood confessed A man of arms. When Telephus in vain Refused Achilles entrance to the coast Of rocky Mysia, with his royal blood 205 He stained Achilles' hand, but found that hand Gentle as strong. When Thebes was overcome Eëtion, its conquered ruler, saw His realm made captive. With like slaughter fell Little Lyrnessus, built at Ida's foot; 210 Briseia's land was captured; Chryse, too, The cause of royal strife, is overthrown; And well-known Tenedos, and Sciro's isle That, rich with fertile pastures, nourishes The Thracian herd, and Lesbos that divides 215 The Ægean straits, Cilla to Phœbus dear, Yes, and whatever land Caïcus laves With its green depths of waters. This had been To any other, glory, honor, fame,-- Achilles is but on the march; so sped 220 My father, and so great the war he waged While he made ready for his great campaign.
Though I were silent of his other deeds, Would it not be enough that Hector died?
My father conquered Ilium; as for you, 225 You have but made it naught. It gives me joy To speak the praises and illustrious deeds Of my great sire: how Hector in the eyes Of fatherland and father prostrate fell, How Memnon, too, lies slain, whose mother shuns 230 The gloomy light of day, with pallid cheek Mourning his fate; and at his own great deeds Achilles trembles, and, a victor, learns That death may touch the children of a god.
The Amazons' harsh queen, thy final fear, 235 Last yielded. Wouldst thou honor worthily His mighty arms, then yield him what he will, Though he should ask a virgin from the land Of Argos or Mycene. Dost thou doubt; Too soon content, art loth to offer up 240 A maiden, Priam's child, to Peleus' son?
Thy child was sacrificed to Helenus, 'Tis not an unaccustomed gift I ask.
_Agamemnon._ To have no power to check the passions' glow Is ever found a fault of youthful hearts; 245 That which in others is the zeal of youth, In Pyrrhus is his father's fiery heart.
Thus mildly once I stood the savage threats Of Æacus' fierce son; most patiently He bears, who is most strong. With slaughter harsh 250 Why sprinkle our illustrious leader's shade?
Learn first how much the conqueror may do, The conquered suffer. 'Tis the mild endure, But he who harshly rules, rules not for long.
The higher Fortune doth exalt a man, 255 Increasing human power, so much the more-- Fearing the gods who too much favor him, And not unmindful of uncertain fate-- He should be meek. In conquering, I have learned How in a moment greatness is o'erthrown. 260 Has Trojan triumph too soon made us proud?
We stand, we Greeks, in that place whence Troy fell.
Imperious I have been, and borne myself At times too proudly; Fortune's gifts correct In me the pride they oft in others rouse. 265 Priam, thou mak'st me proud, but mak'st me fear.
What can I deem my scepter, but a name Made bright with idle glitter; or my crown, But empty ornament? Fate overthrows Swiftly, nor will it need a thousand ships, 270 Perchance, nor ten years' war. I own, indeed, (This can I do, oh Argive land, nor wound Thy honor) I have troubled Phrygia And wished her conquered; but I would have stayed The hand that crushed and laid her in the dust. 275 A foe enraged, who gains the victory By night, checks not his raging at command; Whatever cruel or unworthy deed Appeared in any, anger was the cause-- Anger and darkness and the savage sword 280 Made glad with blood and seeking still for more.
All that yet stands of ruined Troy shall stand, Enough of punishment--more than enough-- Has been exacted; that a royal maid Should fall, and, offered as a sacrifice 285 Upon a tomb, should crimson with her blood The ashes, and this hateful crime be called A marriage--I will never suffer it.
Upon my head would rest the guilt of all; He who forbids not crime when he has power, 290 Commands it.
_Pyrrhus._ Shall Achilles then go hence With empty hand?
_Agamemnon._ No, all shall tell his praise, And unknown lands shall sing his glorious name; And if his shade would take delight in blood Poured forth upon his ashes, let us slay 295 A Phrygian sheep, rich sacrifice. No blood Shall flow to cause a sorrowing mother's tears.
What fashion this, by which a living soul Is sacrificed to one gone down to hell?
Think not to soil thy father's memory 300 With such revenge, commanding us to pay Due reverence with blood.
_Pyrrhus._ Harsh king of kings!
So arrogant while favoring fortune smiles, So timid when aught threatens! Is thy heart So soon inflamed with love and new desire; 305 And wilt thou bear away from us the spoil?
I'll give Achilles back, with this right hand, His victim, and, if thou withholdest her, I'll give a greater, and whom Pyrrhus gives Will prove one worthy. All too long our hand 310 Has ceased from slaughter, Priam seeks his peer.
_Agamemnon._ That was, indeed, the worthiest warlike act Of Pyrrhus: with relentless hand he slew Priam, whose suppliant prayer Achilles heard.
_Pyrrhus._ We know our father's foes were suppliants, 315 But Priam made his prayer himself, whilst thou, Not brave to ask, and overcome with fear, Lurked trembling in thy tent, and sought as aid The intercessions of the Ithacan And Ajax.
_Agamemnon._ That thy father did not fear, 320 I own; amid the slaughter of the Greeks And burning of the fleet, forgetting war, He idly lay, and with his plectrum touched Lightly his lyre.
_Pyrrhus._ Mighty Hector then Laughed at thy arms but feared Achilles' song; 325 By reason of that fear peace reigned supreme In the Thessalian fleet.
_Agamemnon._ There was in truth Deep peace for Hector's father in that fleet.
_Pyrrhus._ To grant kings life is kingly.
_Agamemnon._ Why wouldst thou With thy right hand cut short a royal life? 330 _Pyrrhus._ Mercy gives often death instead of life.
_Agamemnon._ Mercy seeks now a virgin for the tomb?
_Pyrrhus._ Thou deemst it crime to sacrifice a maid?