The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 47

One was a river bold, I 2 Horn-crowned, with tramp fourfold, Bull Achelous, Acarnania's Fear; And one from Bacchus' town, Own son of Zeus, came down, With brandished mace, bent bow, and barbed spear.

Who then in battle brunt, Together, front to front, Hurled, eager both to win the beauteous prize; And Cypris 'mid the fray Alone, that dreadful day, Sate umpire, holding promise in her eyes.

Then clashed the fist, then clanged the bow; II Then horns gave cras.h.i.+ng blow for blow, Whilst, as they clung, The twining hip throw both essay And hurtling foreheads' fearful play, And groans from each were wrung.

But the tender fair one far away Sate watching with an eye of piteous cheer (A mother's heart will heed the thing I say,) Till won by him who freed her from her fear.

Sudden she leaves her mother's gentle side, Borne through the waste, our hero's tender bride.

_Enter_ DeANIRA.

De. Dear friends, while yonder herald in the house Holds converse with the captives ere he go, I have stol'n forth to you, partly to tell The craft my hand hath compa.s.sed, and in part, To crave your pity for my wretchedness.

For I have taken to my hearth a maid,-- And yet, methinks, no maiden any more, Like some fond s.h.i.+pmaster, taking on board A cargo fraught with treason to my heart.

And now we two are closed in one embrace Beneath one coverlet. Such generous meed For faith in guarding home this dreary while Hath the kind Heracles our trusty spouse, Sent in return! Yet, oft as he hath caught This same distemperature, I know not how To harbour indignation against him.

But who that is a woman could endure To dwell with her, both married to one man?

One bloom is still advancing, one doth fade.

The budding flower is cropped, the full-blown head Is left to wither, while love pa.s.seth by Unheeding. Wherefore I am sore afraid He will be called my husband, but her mate, For she is younger. Yet no prudent wife Would take this angerly, as I have said.

But, dear ones, I will tell you of a way, Whereof I have bethought me, to prevent This heart-break. I had hidden of long time In a bronze urn the ancient Centaur's gift, Which I, when a mere girl, culled from the wound Of hairy-breasted Nessus in his death.

He o'er Evenus' rolling depths, for hire, Ferried wayfarers on his arm, not plying Or rowing-boat, or canvas-winged bark.

Who, when with Heracles, a new-made bride, I followed by my father's sending forth, Shouldering me too, in the mid-stream, annoyed With wanton touch. And I cried out; and he, Zeus' son, turned suddenly, and from his bow Sent a wing'd shaft, that whizzed into his chest To the lungs. Then the weird Thing, with dying voice Spake to me:--'Child of aged Oeneus, Since thou wert my last burden, thou shalt win Some profit from mine act, if thou wilt do What now I bid thee. With a careful hand Collect and bear away the clotted gore That clogs my wound, e'en where the monster snake Had dyed the arrow with dark tinct of gall; And thou shalt have this as a charm of soul For Heracles, that never through the eye Shall he receive another love than thine.'

Whereof bethinking me, for since his death I kept it in a closet locked with care, I have applied it to this robe, with such Addition as his living voice ordained.-- The thing is done. No criminal attempts Could e'er be mine. Far be they from my thought, As I abhor the woman who conceives them!

But if by any means through gentle spells And bonds on Heracles' affection, we May triumph o'er this maiden in his heart, My scheme is perfected. Unless you deem Mine action wild. If so, I will desist.

CH. If any ground of confidence approve Thine act, we cannot check thy counsel here.

De. My confidence is grounded on belief, Though unconfirmed as yet by actual proof.

CH. Well, do it and try. a.s.surance cannot come Till action bring experience after it.

De. The truth will soon be known. The man e'en now Is coming forth, and quickly will be there.

Screen ye but well my counsel. Doubtful deeds, Wrapt close, will not deliver us to shame.

_Enter_ LICHAS.

LICH. Daughter of Oeneus, tell me thy commands.

Already time rebukes our tardiness.

De. Even that hath been my care, Lichas, while thou Wert talking to the stranger-maids within, That thou shouldst take for me this finewoven web, A present from these fingers to my lord.

And when thou giv'st it, say that none of men Must wear it on his shoulders before him; And neither light of sun may look upon it, Nor holy temple-court, nor household flame, Till he in open station 'fore the G.o.ds Display it on a day when bulls are slaughtered.

So once I vowed, that should I ever see Or hear his safe return, I would enfold His glorious person in this robe, and show To all the G.o.ds in doing sacrifice Him a fresh wors.h.i.+pper in fresh array.-- The truth hereof he will with ease descry Betokened on this treasure-guarding seal.-- Now go, and be advised, of this in chief, To act within thine office; then of this, To bear thee so, that from his thanks and mine Meeting in one, a twofold grace may spring.

LICH. If this my Hermes-craft be firm and sure, Then never will I fail thee, O my Queen!

But I will show the casket as it is To whom I bear it, and in faithfulness Add all the words thou sendest in fit place.

De. Go, then, at once. Thou hast full cognizance How things within the palace are preserved?

LICH. I know, and will declare. There is no flaw.

De. Methinks thou knowest too, for thou hast seen, My kind reception of the stranger-maid?

LICH. I saw, and was amazed with heart-struck joy.

De. What more is there to tell?--Too rash, I fear, Were thy report of longing on my part, Till we can learn if we be longed for there. [_Exeunt severally_

CHORUS.

O ye that haunt the strand I 1 Where s.h.i.+ps in quiet land Near Oeta's height and the warm rock-drawn well, And ye round Melis' inland gulf who dwell, Wors.h.i.+pping her who wields the golden wand,-- (There h.e.l.las' wisest meet in council strong): Soon shall the flute arise With sound of glad surprise, Thrilling your sense with no unwelcome song, But tones that to the harp of Heavenly Muse belong.

Zeus' and Alcmena's son,-- I 2 All deeds of glory done,-- Speeds now triumphant to his home, whom we Twelve weary months of blind expectancy Lost in vast distance, from our country gone.

While, sadly languis.h.i.+ng, his loving wife, Still flowing down with tears, Pined with unnumbered fears.

But Ares, lately stung to furious strife, Frees him for ever[3] from the toilsome life.

O let him come to-day! II Ne'er may his vessel stay, But glide with feathery sweep of many an oar, Till from his altar by yon island sh.o.r.e Even to our town he wind his prosperous way, In mien returning mild, And inly reconciled, With that anointing in his heart ingrained, Which the dark Centaur's wizard lips ordained.

_Enter_ DeANIRA.

De. O how I fear, my friends, lest all too far I have ventured in my action of to-day!

CH. What ails thee, Deanira, Oeneus' child?

De. I know not, but am haunted by a dread, Lest quickly I be found to have performed A mighty mischief, through bright hopes betrayed.

CH. Thou dost not mean thy gift to Heracles?

De. Indeed I do. Now I perceive how fond Is eagerness, where actions are obscure.

CH. Tell, if it may be told, thy cause of fear.

De. A thing is come to pa.s.s, which should I tell, Will strike you with strange wonder when you learn.

For, O my friends, the stuff wherewith I dressed That robe, a flock of soft and milkwhite wool, Is shrivelled out of sight, not gnawn by tooth Of any creature here, but, self-consumed, Frittered and wasting on the courtyard-stones.

To let you know the circ.u.mstance at full, I will speak on. Of all the Centaur-Thing, When labouring in his side with the fell point O' the shaft, enjoined me, I had nothing lost, But his vaticination in my heart Remained indelible, as though engraved With pen of iron upon bra.s.s. 'Twas thus:-- I was to keep this unguent closely hid In dark recesses, where no heat of fire Or warming ray might reach it, till with fresh Anointing I addressed it to an end.

So I had done. And now this was to do, Within my chamber covertly I spread The ointment with piece of wool, a tuft Pulled from a home-bred sheep; and, as ye saw, I folded up my gift and packed it close In hollow casket from the glaring sun.

But, entering in, a fact encounters me Past human wit to fathom with surmise.

For, as it happened, I had tossed aside The bit of wool I worked with, carelessly, Into the open daylight, 'mid the blaze Of Helios' beam. And, as it kindled warm, It fell away to nothing, crumbled small, Like dust in severing wood by sawyers strewn.

So, on the point of vanis.h.i.+ng, it lay.

But, from the place where it had lain, brake forth A frothy sc.u.m in clots of seething foam, Like the rich draught in purple vintage poured From Bacchus' vine upon the thirsty ground.

And I, unhappy, know not toward what thought To turn me, but I see mine act is dire.

For wherefore should the Centaur, for what end, Show kindness to the cause for whom he died?

That cannot be. But seeking to destroy His slayer, he cajoled me. This I learn Too late, by sad experience, for no good.

And, if I err not now, my hapless fate Is all alone to be his murderess.

For, well I know, the shaft that made the wound Gave pain to Cheiron, who was more than man; And wheresoe'er it falls, it ravageth All the wild creatures of the world. And now This gory venom blackly spreading bane From Nessus' angry wound, must it not cause The death of Heracles? I think it must.

Yet my resolve is firm, if aught harm him, My death shall follow in the self-same hour.

She cannot bear to live in evil fame, Who cares to have a nature pure from ill.

CH. Horrid mischance must needs occasion fear.

But Hope is not condemned before the event.

De. In ill-advised proceeding not even Hope Remains to minister a cheerful mind.

CH. Yet to have erred unwittingly abates The fire of wrath; and thou art in this case.