The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 48

De. So speaks not he who hath a share of sin, But who is clear of all offence at home.

CH. 'Twere well to say no more, unless thou hast aught To impart to thine own son: for he is here, Who went erewhile to find his father forth.

HYLLUS _(re-entering)_.

O mother, mother!

I would to heaven one of three things were true: Either that thou wert dead, or, living, wert No mother to me, or hadst gained a mind Furnished with better thoughts than thou hast now!

De. My son! what canst thou so mislike in me?

HYL. I tell thee thou this day hast been the death Of him that was thy husband and my sire.

De. What word hath pa.s.sed thy lips? my child, my child!

HYL. A word that must be verified. For who Can make the accomplished fact as things undone?

De. Alas, my son! what saidst thou? Who hath told That I have wrought a deed so full of woe?

HYL. 'Twas I myself that saw with these mine eyes My father's heavy state:--no hearsay word.

De. And where didst thou come near him and stand by?

HYL. Art thou to hear it? On, then, with my tale!

When after sacking Eurytus' great city He marched in triumph with first-fruits of war,-- There is a headland, last of long Euboea, Surf-beat Cenaeum,--where to his father Zeus He dedicates high altars and a grove.

There first I saw him, gladdened from desire.

And when he now addressed him to the work Of various sacrifice, the herald Lichas Arrived from home, bearing thy fatal gift, The deadly robe: wherewith invested straight, As thou hadst given charge, he sacrificed The firstlings of the spoil, twelve bulls entire, Each after each. But the full count he brought Was a clear hundred of all kinds of head.

Then the all-hapless one commenced his prayer In solemn gladness for the bright array.

But presently, when from the holy things, And from the richness of the oak-tree core, There issued flame mingled with blood, a sweat Rose on his flesh, and close to every limb Clung, like stone-drapery from the craftsman's hand, The garment, glued unto his side. Then came The tearing pangs within his bones, and then The poison feasted like the venomed tooth Of murderous basilisk.--When this began, He shouted on poor Lichas, none to blame For thy sole crime, 'What guile is here, thou knave?

What was thy fraud in fetching me this robe?'

He, all-unknowing, in an evil hour Declared his message, that the gift was thine.

Whereat the hero, while the shooting spasm Had fastened on the lungs, seized him by the foot Where the ankle turns i' the socket, and, with a thought, Hurl'd on a surf-vex'd reef that showed i' the sea: And rained the grey pulp from the hair, the brain Being scattered with the blood. Then the great throng Saddened their festival with piteous wail For one in death and one in agony.

And none had courage to approach my sire,-- Convulsed upon the ground, then tossed i' the air With horrid yells and crying, till the cliffs Echoed round, the mountain-promontories Of Locris, and Euboea's rugged sh.o.r.e.

Wearied at length with flinging on the earth, And shrieking oft with lamentable cry, Cursing the fatal marriage with thyself The all-wretched, and the bond to Oeneus' house, That prize that was the poisoner of his peace, He lifted a wild glance above the smoke That hung around, and 'midst the crowd of men Saw me in tears, and looked on me and said, 'O son, come near; fly not from my distress, Though thou shouldst be consumed in my death, But lift and bear me forth; and, if thou mayest, Set me where no one of mankind shall see me.

But if thy heart withhold thee, yet convey me Out of this land as quickly as ye may.

Let me not die where I am now.' We then, Thus urgently commanded, laid him down Within our bark, and hardly to this sh.o.r.e Rowed him convulsed and roaring.--Presently, He will appear, alive or lately dead.

Such, mother, is the crime thou hast devised And done against our sire, wherefore let Right And Vengeance punish thee!--May I pray so?

I may: for thou absolv'st me by thy deed, Thou that hast slain the n.o.blest of the Earth, Thy spouse, whose like thou ne'er wilt see again. [_Exit_ DeANIRA.

CH. Why steal'st thou forth in silence? Know'st thou not Thy silence argues thine accuser's plea?

HYL. Let her go off. Would that a sudden flood Might sweep her far and swiftly from mine eye!

Why fondle vainly the fair-sounding name Of mother, when her acts are all unmotherly?

Let her begone for me: and may she find Such joy as she hath rendered to my sire! [_Exit_ HYLLUS

CHORUS.

See where falls the doom, of old I 1 By the unerring Voice foretold,-- 'When twelve troublous years have rolled, Then shall end your long desire: Toil on toil no more shall tire The offspring of the Eternal Sire.'

Lo! the destined Hour is come!

Lo! it hath brought its burden home.

For when the eyes have looked their last How should sore labour vex again?

How, when the powers of will and thought are past, Should life be any more enthralled to pain?

And if Nessus' withering shroud, I 2 Wrought by destiny and craft, Steep him in a poisonous cloud.

Steaming from the venomed shaft, Which to Death in hideous lair The many-wreathed Hydra bare, How shall he another day Feel the glad warmth of Helios' ray?-- Enfolded by the Monster-Thing Of Lerna, while the cruel sting Of the s.h.a.gg'd Centaur's murderous-guileful tongue Breaks forth withal to do him painful wrong.

And she, poor innocent, who saw II 1 Checkless advancing to the gate A mighty harm unto her state,-- This rash young bridal without fear of law,-- Gave not her will to aught that caused this woe, But since it came through that strange mind's conceiving,-- That ruined her in meeting,--deeply grieving, She mourns with dewy tears in tenderest flow.

The approaching hour appeareth great with woe: Some guile-born misery doth Fate foreshow.

The springs of sorrow are unbound, II 2 And such an agony disclose, As never from the hands of foes To afflict the life of Heracles was found.

O dark with battle-stains, world-champion spear, That from Oechalia's highland leddest then This bride that followed swiftly in thy train, How fatally overshadowing was thy fear!

But these wild sorrows all too clearly come From Love's dread minister[4], disguised and dumb.

CH. 1.

Am I a fool, or do I truly hear Lament new-rising from our master's home?

Tell!

CH. 2.

Clearly from within a wailing voice Peals piteously. The house hath some fresh woe.

CH. 3.

Mark!

How strangely, with what cloud upon her brow, Yon aged matron with her tidings moves!

_Enter_ Nurse.

NURSE. Ah! mighty, O my daughters! was the grief Sprung from the gift to Heracles conveyed!

LEADER OF CH. What new thing is befallen? Why speak'st thou so?

NUR. Our Queen hath found her latest journey's end.

Even now she is gone, without the help of feet.

CH. Not dead?

NUR. You know the whole.

CH. Dead! hapless Queen!

NUR. The truth hath twice been told.

CH. O tell us how!

What was her death, poor victim of dire woe?

NUR. Most ruthless was the deed.

CH. Say, woman, say!

What was the sudden end?

NUR. Herself she slew.

CH. What rage, what madness, clutched The mischief-working brand?