The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 32

Who resolved the dark enigma, n.o.blest champion and most wise.

Like a star his envied fortune mounted beaming[6] far and wide: Now he sinks in seas of anguish, whelmed beneath a raging tide.

Therefore, with the old-world sages, waiting for that final day, I will call no mortal happy, while he holds his house of clay, Till without one pang of sorrow, all his hours have pa.s.sed away.

ELECTRA

THE PERSONS

An Old Man, _formerly one of the retainers of Agamemnon._ ORESTES, _son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra_.

ELECTRA, _sister of Orestes_.

CHORUS _of Argive Women_.

CHRYSOTHEMIS, _sister of Orestes and Electra_.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

AEGISTHUS.

PYLADES _appears with_ ORESTES, _but does not speak_.

SCENE. Mycenae: before the palace of the Pelopidae.

Agamemnon on his return from Troy, had been murdered by his wife Clytemnestra and her paramour Aegisthus, who had usurped the Mycenean throne. Orestes, then a child, had been rescued by his sister Electra, and sent into Phocis with the one servant who remained faithful to his old master. The son of Agamemnon now returns, being of a full age, accompanied by this same attendant and his friend Pylades, with whom he has already concerted a plan for taking vengeance on his father's murderers, in obedience to the command of Apollo.

Orestes had been received in Phocis by Strophius, his father's friend.

Another Phocian prince, named Phanoteus, was a friend of Aegisthus.

ELECTRA

ORESTES _and the_ Old Man--PYLADES _is present._

OLD MAN. Son of the king who led the Achaean host Erewhile beleaguering Troy, 'tis thine to day To see around thee what through many a year Thy forward spirit hath sighed for. Argolis Lies here before us, hallowed as the scene Of Io's wildering pain: yonder, the mart Named from the wolf slaying G.o.d[1], and there, to our left, Hera's famed temple. For we reach the bourn Of far renowned Mycenae, rich in gold And Pelops' fatal roofs before us rise, Haunted with many horrors, whence my hand, Thy murdered sire then lying in his gore, Received thee from thy sister, and removed Where I have kept thee safe and nourished thee To this bright manhood thou dost bear, to be The avenger of thy father's b.l.o.o.d.y death.

Wherefore, Orestes, and thou, Pylades, Dearest of friends, though from a foreign soil, Prepare your enterprise with speed. Dark night Is vanished with her stars, and day's bright orb Hath waked the birds of morn into full song.

Now, then, ere foot of man go forth, ye two Knit counsels. 'Tis no time for shy delay: The very moment for your act is come.

OR. Kind faithful friend, how well thou mak'st appear Thy constancy in service to our house!

As some good steed, aged, but n.o.bly bred, Slacks not his spirit in the day of war, But points his ears to the fray, even so dost thou Press on and urge thy master in the van.

Hear, then, our purpose, and if aught thy mind, Keenly attent, discerns of weak or crude In this I now set forth, admonish me.

I, when I visited the Pythian shrine Oracular, that I might learn whereby To punish home the murderers of my sire, Had word from Phoebus which you straight shall hear: 'No s.h.i.+elded host, but thine own craft, O King!

The righteous death-blow to thine arm shall bring.'

Then, since the will of Heaven is so revealed, Go thou within, when Opportunity Shall marshal thee the way, and gathering all Their business, bring us certain cognizance.

Age and long absence are a safe disguise; They never will suspect thee who thou art.

And let thy tale be that another land, Phocis, hath sent thee forth, and Phanoteus, Than whom they have no mightier help in war.

Then, prefaced with an oath, declare thy news, Orestes' death by dire mischance, down-rolled From wheel-borne chariot in the Pythian course.

So let the fable be devised; while we, As Phoebus ordered, with luxuriant locks Shorn from our brows, and fair libations, crown My father's sepulchre, and thence return Bearing aloft the shapely vase of bronze That's hidden hard by in brushwood, as thou knowest, And bring them welcome tidings, that my form Is fallen ere now to ashes in the fire.

How should this pain me, in pretence being dead, Really to save myself and win renown?

No saying bodes men ill, that brings them gain.

Oft have I known the wise, dying in word, Return with glorious salutation home.

So lightened by this rumour shall mine eye Blaze yet like bale-star on mine enemies.

O native earth! and G.o.ds that hold the land, Accept me here, and prosper this my way!

Thou, too, paternal hearth! To thee I come, Justly to cleanse thee by behest from heaven.

Send me not bootless, G.o.ds, but let me found A wealthy line of fair posterity!

I have spoken. To thy charge! and with good heed Perform it. We go forth. The Occasion calls, Great taskmaster of enterprise to men.

ELECTRA (_within_). Woe for my hapless lot!

OLD M. Hark! from the doors, my son, methought there came A moaning cry, as of some maid within.

OR. Can it be poor Electra? Shall we stay, And list again the lamentable sound?

OLD M. Not so. Before all else begin the attempt To execute Apollo's sovereign will, Pouring libation to thy sire: this makes Victory ours, and our success a.s.sured. [_Exeunt_

_Enter_ ELECTRA.

MONODY.

EL. O purest light!

And air by earth alone Measured and limitable, how oft have ye Heard many a piercing moan, Many a blow full on my bleeding breast, When gloomy night Hath slackened pace and yielded to the day!

And through the hours of rest, Ah! well 'tis known To my sad pillow in yon house of woe, What vigil of scant joyance keeping, Whiles all within are sleeping, For my dear father without stint I groan, Whom not in b.l.o.o.d.y fray The War-G.o.d in the stranger-land Received with hospitable hand, But she that is my mother, and her groom, As woodmen fell the oak, Cleft through the skull with murdering stroke.

And o'er this gloom No ray of pity, save from only me, Goes forth on thee, My father, who didst die A cruel death of piteous agony.

But ne'er will I Cease from my crying and sad mourning lay, While I behold the sky, Glancing with myriad fires, or this fair day.

But, like some brood-bereaved nightingale, With far-heard wail, Here at my father's door my voice shall sound.

O home beneath the ground!

Hades unseen, and dread Persephone, And darkling Hermes, and the Curse revered, And ye, Erinyes, of mortals feared, Daughters of Heaven, that ever see Who die unjustly, who are wronged i' the bed Of those they wed, Avenge our father's murder on his foe!

Aid us, and send my brother to my side; Alone I cannot longer bide The oppressive strain of strength-o'ermastering woe.

CHORUS (_entering_).

O sad Electra, child I 1 Of a lost mother, why still flow Unceasingly with lamentation wild For him who through her treachery beguiled, Inveigled by a wife's deceit, Fallen at the foul adulterer's feet, Most impiously was quelled long years ago?

Perish the cause! if I may lawfully pray so.

EL. O daughters of a n.o.ble line, Ye come to soothe me from my troublous woe.

I see, I know: Your love is not unrecognized of mine.

But yet I will not seem as I forgot, Or cease to mourn my hapless father's lot.

Oh, of all love That ever may you move, This only boon I crave-- Leave me to rave!

CH. Lament, nor praying breath I 2 Will raise thy sire, our honoured chief, From that dim mult.i.tudinous gulf of death.

Beyond the mark, due grief that measureth, Still pining with excess of pain Thou urgest lamentation vain, That from thy woes can bring thee no relief.

Why hast thou set thy heart on unavailing grief?