The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 44

Ah! here I see him bounding home, with feet Apt for employment! If you count me wise, He and my words attend upon your will.

_Enter_ HYLLUS.

De. Dear child, dear boy! even from the lowliest head Wise counsel may come forth. This woman here, Though a bond-maiden, hath a free-born tongue.

HYL. What word is spoken, mother? May I know?

De. That, with thy father lost to us so long, 'Tis shame thou dost not learn his dwelling-place.

HYL. Yea, I have learnt, if one may trust report.

De. Where art thou told his seat is fixed, my son?

HYL. 'Tis said that through the length of this past year He wrought as bondman to a Lydian girl.

De. Hath he borne that? Then nothing can be strange!

HYL. Well, that is over, I am told. He is free.

De. Where is he rumoured, then, alive or dead?

HYL. In rich Euboea, besieging, as they tell, The town of Eurytus, or offering siege.

De. Child, hast thou heard what holy oracles He left with me, touching that very land?

HYL. What were they, mother, for I never knew?

De. That either he must end his being there, Or, this one feat performed, his following time Should grace his life with fair prosperity.

Wilt thou not then, my child, when he is held In such a crisis of uncertain peril, Run to his aid?--since we must perish with him, Or owe our lasting safety to his life.

HYL. I will go, mother. Had I heard this voice Of prophecy, long since I had been there.

Fear is unwonted for our father's lot.

But now I know, my strength shall all be spent To learn the course of these affairs in full.

De. Go then, my son. Though late, to learn and do What wisdom bids, hath certainty of gain.

[_Exit_ HYLLUS. DeANIRA _withdraws_

CHORUS (_entering and turning towards the East_).

Born of the starry night in her undoing, I 1 Lulled in her bosom at thy parting glow, O Sun! I bid thee show, What journey is Alcmena's child pursuing?

What region holds him now, 'Mong winding channels of the deep, Or Asian plains, or rugged Western steep?

Declare it, thou Peerless in vision of thy flas.h.i.+ng ray That lightens on the world with each new day.

Sad Deanira, bride of battle-wooing[1], I 2 Ne'er lets her tearful eyelids close in rest, But in love-longing breast, Like some lorn bird its desolation rueing, Of her great husband's way Still mindful, worn with harrowing fear Lest some new danger for him should be near, By night and day Pines on her widowed couch of ceaseless thought, With dread of evil destiny distraught: [_Enter_ DeANIRA.

For many as are billows of the South II 1 Blowing unweariedly, or Northern gale, One going and another coming on Incessantly, baffling the gazer's eye, Such Cretan ocean of unending toil Cradles our Cadmus-born, and swells his fame.

But still some power doth his foot recall From stumbling down to Hades' darkling hall.

Wherefore, in censure of thy mood, I bring II 2 Glad, though opposing, counsel. Let not hope Grow weary. Never hath a painless life Been cast on mortals by the power supreme Of the All-disposer, Cronos' son. But joy And sorrow visit in perpetual round All mortals, even as circleth still on high The constellation of the Northern sky.

What lasteth in the world? Not starry night, III Nor wealth, nor tribulation; but is gone All suddenly, while to another soul The joy or the privation pa.s.seth on.

These hopes I bid thee also, O my Queen!

Hold fast continually, for who hath seen Zeus so forgetful of his own?

How can his providence forsake his son?

De. I see you have been told of my distress, And that hath brought you. But my inward woe, Be it evermore unknown to you, as now!

Such the fair garden of untrammeled ease Where the young life grows safely. No fierce heat, No rain, no wind disturbs it, but unharmed It rises amid airs of peace and joy, Till maiden turn to matron, and the night Inherit her dark share of anxious thought, Haunted with fears for husband or for child.

Then, imaged through her own calamity, Some one may guess the burden of my life.

Full many have been the sorrows I have wept, But one above the rest I tell to-day.

When my great husband parted last from home, He left within the house an ancient scroll Inscribed with characters of mystic note, Which Heracles had never heretofore, In former labours, cared to let me see,-- As bound for bright achievement, not for death.

But now, as though his life had end, he told What marriage-portion I must keep, what shares He left his sons out of their father's ground: And set a time, when fifteen moons were spent, Counted from his departure, that even then Or he must die, or if that date were out And he had run beyond it, he should live Thenceforth a painless and untroubled life.

Such by Heaven's fiat was the promised end Of Heracles' long labours, as he said; So once the ancient oak-tree had proclaimed In high Dodona through the sacred Doves.

Of which prediction on this present hour In destined order of accomplishment The veritable issue doth depend.

And I, dear friends, while taking rest, will oft Start from sweet slumbers with a sudden fear, Scared by the thought, my life may be bereft Of the best husband in the world of men.

CH. Hus.h.!.+ For I see approaching one in haste, Garlanded, as if laden with good news.

_Enter_ Messenger.

MESSENGER. Queen Deanira, mine shall be the tongue To free thee first from fear. Alcmena's child Is living, be a.s.sured, and triumphing, And bringing to our G.o.ds the fruits of war.

De. What mean'st thou, aged sir, by what thou sayest?

MESS. That soon thy husband, envied all around, Will come, distinguished with victorious might.

De. What citizen or stranger told thee this?

MESS. Your herald Lichas, where the oxen graze The summer meadow, cries this to a crowd.

I, hearing, flew off hither, that being first To bring thee word thereof, I might be sure To win reward and grat.i.tude from thee.

De. And how is he not here, if all be well?

MESS. Crossed by no light impediment, my Queen.

For all the Maliac people, gathering round, Throng him with question, that he cannot move.

But he must still the travail of each soul, And none will be dismissed unsatisfied.

Such willing audience he unwillingly Harangues, but soon himself will come in sight.

De. O Zeus! who rulest Oeta's virgin wold, At last, though late, thou hast vouchsafed us joy.

Lift up your voices, O my women! ye Within the halls, and ye beyond the gate!

For now we reap the gladness of a ray, That dawns unhoped for in this rumour's sound.

CHORUS With a shout by the hearth let the palace roof ring From those that are dreaming of bridal, and ye, Young men, let your voices in harmony sing To the G.o.d of the quiver, the Lord of the free!

And the Paean withal from the maiden band To Artemis, huntress of many a land, Let it rise o'er the glad roof tree, To Phoebus' own sister, with fire in each hand, And the Nymphs that her co-mates be!

My spirit soars. O sovereign of my soul!

I will accept the thrilling flute's control. [_They dance_ The ivy-crowned thyrsus, see!

With Bacchic fire is kindling me, And turns my emulous tread Where'er the mazy dance may lead.

Euoi! Euoi!

O Paean! send us joy.

See, dearest Queen, behold!

Before thy gaze the event will now unfold.