Alcestis Part 7

HERACLES.

Who is it that has died?

Thou weepest.

ADMETUS.

'Tis a woman. It doth take My memory back to her of whom we spake.

HERACLES.

A stranger, or of kin to thee?

ADMETUS.

Not kin, But much beloved.

HERACLES.

How came she to be in Thy house to die?

ADMETUS.

Her father died, and so She came to us, an orphan, long ago.

HERACLES (_as though about to depart_).

'Tis sad.

I would I had found thee on a happier day.

ADMETUS.

Thy words have some intent: what wouldst thou say?

HERACLES.

I must find harbour with some other friend.

ADMETUS.

My prince, it may not be! G.o.d never send Such evil!

HERACLES.

'Tis great turmoil, when a guest Comes to a mourning house.

ADMETUS.

Come in and rest.

Let the dead die!

HERACLES.

I cannot, for mere shame, Feast beside men whose eyes have tears in them.

ADMETUS.

The guest-rooms are apart where thou shalt be.

HERACLES.

Friend, let me go. I shall go gratefully.

ADMETUS.

Thou shalt not enter any door but mine.

(_To an Attendant_) Lead in our guest. Unlock the furthest line Of guest-chambers; and bid the stewards there Make ready a full feast; then close with care The midway doors. 'Tis unmeet, if he hears Our turmoil or is burdened with our tears.

[_The Attendant leads_ HERACLES _into the house_.]

LEADER.

How, master? When within a thing so sad Lies, thou wilt house a stranger? Art thou mad?

ADMETUS.

And had I turned the stranger from my door, Who sought my shelter, hadst thou praised me more?

I trow not, if my sorrow were thereby No whit less, only the more friendless I.

And more, when bards tell tales, were it not worse My house should lie beneath the stranger's curse?

Now he is my sure friend, if e'er I stand Lonely in Argos, in a thirsty land.

LEADER.

Thou callest him thy friend; how didst thou dare Keep hid from him the burden of thy care?

ADMETUS.

He never would have entered, had he known My grief.--Aye, men may mock what I have done, And call me fool. My house hath never learned To fail its friend, nor seen the stranger spurned.

[ADMETUS _goes into the house_]

CHORUS.

Oh, a House that loves the stranger, And a House for ever free!

And Apollo, the Song-changer, Was a herdsman in thy fee; Yea, a-piping he was found, Where the upward valleys wound, To the kine from out the manger And the sheep from off the lea, And love was upon Othrys at the sound.

And from deep glens unbeholden Of the forest to his song There came lynxes streaky-golden, There came lions in a throng, Tawny-coated, ruddy-eyed, To that piper in his pride; And shy fawns he would embolden, Dappled dancers, out along The shadow by the pine-tree's side.

And those magic pipes a-blowing Have fulfilled thee in thy reign By thy Lake with honey flowing, By thy sheepfolds and thy grain; Where the Sun turns his steeds To the twilight, all the meads Of Molossus know thy sowing And thy ploughs upon the plain.

Yea, and eastward thou art free To the portals of the sea, And Pelion, the unharboured, is but minister to thee.

He hath opened wide his dwelling To the stranger, though his ruth For the dead was fresh and welling, For the loved one of his youth.

'Tis the brave heart's cry: "I will fail not, though I die!"

Doth it win, with no man's telling, Some high vision of the truth?

We may marvel. Yet I trust, When man seeketh to be just And to pity them that wander, G.o.d will raise him from the dust.

[_As the song ceases the doors are thrown open and_ ADMETUS _comes before them: a great funeral procession is seen moving out._]

ADMETUS.

Most gentle citizens, our dead is here Made ready; and these youths to bear the bier Uplifted to the grave-mound and the urn.

Now, seeing she goes forth never to return, Bid her your last farewell, as mourners may.

[_The procession moves forward, past him_.]

LEADER.

Nay, lord; thy father, walking old and grey; And followers bearing burial gifts and brave Gauds, which men call the comfort of the grave.

_Enter_ PHERES _with followers bearing robes and gifts_.

PHERES.

I come in sorrow for thy sorrow, son.