Chapter IV: Part 4

_Cho._ Too much of ill already hath been spoken: {750}
Forbear, old man, nor thus revile thy son.

_Admetus_ says if his father does not like to hear the truth he should not have done the wrong.

_Pher._ Had I died for thee, greater were the wrong.
_Adm._ Is death alike then to the young and old?
_Pher._ Man's due is one life, not to borrow more.
_Adm._ Thine drag thou on and out-tire heaven's age!
_Pher._ Darest thou to curse thy parents, nothing wrong'd?
_Adm._ Parents in dotage lusting still to live! {760}
_Pher._ And thou--what else but life with this corpse buyest?
_Adm._ This corpse--the symbol of thy infamy!
_Pher._ For us she died not; that thou canst not say!
_Adm._ Ah! mayst thou some time come to need my aid!
_Pher._ Wed many wives that more may die for thee!
_Adm._ On thee rests this reproach--thou daredst not die!
_Pher._ Sweet is this light of heav'n! sweet is this light!
_Adm._ Base is thy thought, unworthy of a man!
_Pher._ The triumph is not thine to entomb my age.
_Adm._ Die when thou wilt, inglorious wilt thou die. {770}
_Pher._ Thy ill report will not affect me dead.
_Adm._ Alas, that age should outlive sense of shame!
_Pher._ But lack of age's wisdom slew _her_ youth.
_Adm._ Begone, and suffer me to entomb my dead.
_Pher._ I go: no fitter burier than thyself
Her murderer! Look for reckoning from her friends:
Acastus is no man, if his hand fails
Dearly to avenge on thee his sister's blood.
_Adm._ Why, get you gone, thou and thy worthy wife:
Grow old in consort--that is now your lot--
The childless parents of a living son:
For never more under one common roof
Come you and I together: had it needed,
By herald I your hearth would have renounced.

_Pheres and his train withdraw along the Stage [to the Right Side-door]. The interrupted Funeral Procession is continued, filing amidst lamentations of the Chorus, down the steps from the Stage into the Orchestra: there the Chorus join it and the whole passes out [by the Right Archway] to the royal sepulchre in the neighbourhood._

_Stage and Orchestra both vacant for a while._

STAGE EPISODE[2]

_Enter the Stage [by one of the Inferior Doors of the Palace] the Steward of Admetus_: he has stolen away to get a moment's respite from the hateful hilarity of this strange visitor--some ruffian or robber he supposes--on whom his office has condemned him to wait, and thereby to miss paying the last offices to a mistress who has been more like a mother to him. The guest has been willing to enter, and though he saw the mourning of the household, he did not allow it to make any difference to his mirth:

Grasping in his hands {804}
A goblet wreath'd with ivy, fill'd it high
With the grape's purple juice, and quaff'd it off
Untemper'd, till the glowing wine inflamed him;
Then binding round his head a myrtle wreath,
Howls dismal discord:--two unpleasing strains
We heard, his harsh notes who in nought revered
Th' afflictions of Admetus, and the voice
Of sorrow through the family that wept
Our mistress. Yet our tearful eyes we showed not,
Admetus so commanded, to the guest. {814}

He starts as he feels on his shoulder the huge hand of _Hercules_, who has followed him, and _now appears on the Stage goblet in hand, wreathed and attired like a reveller in full revel_. Hercules good-humouredly scolds him for letting a remote family bereavement hinder him from showing a sociable countenance to his lord's guest. He lectures him on the easy ethics of the banquet-hour:

Come hither, that thou mayst be wiser, friend: {832}
Knowst thou the nature of all mortal things?
Not thou, I ween: how shouldst thou? hear from me.
By all of human race death is a debt
That must be paid; and none of mortal men
Knows whether till to-morrow life's short space
Shall be extended: such the dark events
Of fortune, never to lie learn'd or traced
By any skill. Instructed thus by me {840}
Bid pleasure welcome, drink; the life allow'd
From day to day esteem thine own; all else
Fortune's.

The Steward receives his lecture with a bad grace: he knows all that--but there is a time for all things. His manner raises Hercules' suspicions that Admetus has been keeping something back:

_Herc._ Is it some sorrow which he told not me? {866}
_Stew._ Go thou with joy: ours are our lord's afflictions.
_Herc._ These are not words that speak a foreign loss.
_Stew._ If such, thy revelry had not displeased me.

The secret is not long kept against the questioning of Hercules. When the truth comes out Hercules drops the goblet: he might have known all from so grief-worn a face! All the lightness of the reveller disappears, and the godlike bearing returns to Hercules' figure as he catches the full dignity of his friend's hospitable feat: he is fired to essay a rival deed of nobility.

Now, my firm heart, and thou, my daring soul, {894}
Show what a son the daughter of Electryon,
Alcmena of Tirynthia, bore to Jove!
This lady, new in death, behoves me save,
And, to Admetus rendering grateful service,
Restore his lost Alcestis to his house.
This sable-vested tyrant of the dead
Mine eye shall watch, not without hope to find him
Drinking th' oblations nigh the tomb. If once
Seen from my secret stand I rush upon him,
These arms shall grasp him till his panting sides
Labour for breath; and who shall force him from me
Till he gives back this woman? {906}

If he fails to find Death elsewhere he will descend to the dark world of spirits itself, rather than fail in making a fit return to his friend:

Whose hospitable heart {913}
Receiv'd me in his house, nor made excuse
Though pierc'd with such a grief; this he conceal'd
Through generous thought, and reverence to his friend.
Who in Thessalia bears a warmer love
To strangers? Who, through all the realms of Greece?
It never shall be said this noble man
Received in me a base and worthless wretch!

_Exit [through the Stage Right Side-door] in the direction of the tomb._

_Stage and Orchestra vacant for a while._

EPISODE V

_Return of the Funeral Procession, headed by the Chorus who remain in the Orchestra; the rest file up the steps onto the stage, Admetus last. The Episode is technically a 'Dirge' between Admetus, whose speeches fall into the rhythm of a Funeral March, and the Chorus, who speak in Strophes and Antistrophes of more elaborate lyric rhythm, often interrupted by the wails of Admetus._

_Admetus reaching the top of the Steps from the Orchestra stands face to face with the splendid facade of his Palace_. Hateful entrance, hateful aspect of a widowed home! How find rest there, in the heavy woes to which he is now doomed? It is with the dead that rest is found: his heart is in their dark houses, where he has placed a loved hostage torn from him by fate! {931}

_Chorus_ [_in Strophe_]. Nevertheless he must go forward; he must hide him in the deepest recesses of his Palace with his grief, the helpless groans that yet will nothing aid her whom he will never see more! {938}

_Admetus_ cries that that is the deepest wound of all! Would he had never wedded! To mourn single is pain endurable; to see children wasting with disease, to see death invading the nuptial bed--that is the pang unbearable! {950}

_Chorus_ [_in Antistrophe_]. Fate is resistless: shall sorrow then have no bounds? Other men have known what it is to lose a wife: and in one or other of innumerable forms misery has found out every son of mortality. {956}

_Admetus_ begins to speak of the life-long mourning for the lost--but the thought is too much for him; why did they hold him back when he would have cast himself into the gaping tomb, and gone the last journey with his love? {963}

_The Chorus_ [_in Strophe_] think of one they knew who lost a son in the flower of his age, an only son and well worthy of tears: yet he bore his lonely burden like a man, and--courage! his hair is white and he is nearing the end. {969}

_Admetus moves a few steps forward and the Procession, advances towards the portal_: but the contrast catches his thought between this and another procession towards the same threshold, when, amidst blazing torches of Pelian pine and bridal dances, he led his new wife by the hand, and shouts wished their union happy. Now wails for shouts, black for glistening raiment, and before him the solitary chamber! {983}

_Chorus_ [_in Antistrophe_]. Trouble has come upon their master all at once, in the midst of prosperity, and on one unschooled in misfortune. But if the wife is gone the love is left. Many have had Admetus's loss: but his gain let him remember: a rescued life. {988}

As if this jarred upon his mind, _Admetus_ turns round and addresses the Chorus, his whole tone changed [_the dirge measures giving place to blank verse_].

_Adm._ My friends, I deem the fortune of my wife
Happier than mine, though otherwise it seems. {990}
For nevermore shall sorrow touch her breast,
And she with glory rests from various ills.
But I, who ought not live, my destined hour
O'erpassing, shall drag on a mournful life,
Late taught what sorrow is. How shall I bear
To enter here? To whom shall I address
My speech? Whose greeting renders my return
Delightful? Which way shall I turn? Within
In lonely sorrow shall I waste away,
As, widowed of my wife, I see my couch, {1000}
The seats deserted where she sat, the rooms
Wanting her elegance. Around my knees
My children hang, and weep their mother lost:
The household servants for their mistress sigh.
This is the scene of misery in my home:
Abroad the nuptials of Thessalia's youth
And the bright circles of assembled dames
Will but augment my grief: how shall I bear
To see the lov'd companions of my wife!
And if one hates me, he will say: Behold {1010}
The man who basely lives, who dared not die,
But giving, through the meanness of his soul,
His wife, avoided death--yet would be deem'd
A man: he hates his parents, yet himself
Had not the spirit to die. These ill reports
Cleave to me: why then wish for longer life,
On evil tongues thus fallen, and evil days!

_Admetus sinks down on the threshold and buries his face in his robe. The Chorus gather up the feeling of the situation in a full Choral Ode, celebrating the natural topics of consolation; the stern laws of Necessity, the fair memory of the dead._

CHORAL INTERLUDE IV

_Strophe I_

My venturous foot delights {1018}
To tread the Muses' arduous heights;
Their hallow'd haunts I love t' explore,
And listen to their lore:
Yet never could my searching mind
Aught, like Necessity, resistless find.
No herb of sovereign pow'r to save,
Whose virtues Orpheus joy'd to trace,
And wrote them in the rolls of Thrace;
Nor all that Phoebus gave,
Instructing the Asclepian train,
When various ills the human frame assail,
To heal the wound, to soothe the pain,
'Gainst Her stern force avail.

_Antistrophe I_

Of all the Pow'rs Divine {1032}
Alone none dares t' approach Her shrine;
To Her no hallow'd image stands,
No altar She commands.
In vain the victim's blood would flow,
She never deigns to hear the suppliant's vow.
Never to me mayst Thou appear,
Dread Goddess, with severer mien
Than oft in life's past tranquil scene
Thou hast been known to wear.
By Thee Jove works his stern behest:
Thy force subdues e'en Scythia's stubborn steel;
Nor ever does Thy rugged breast
The touch of pity feel.

_Strophe II_

And now, with ruin pleas'd, {1046}
On thee, O King, her hands have seiz'd,
And bound thee in her iron chain:
Yet her fell force sustain.
For from the gloomy realms of night
No tears recall the dead to life's sweet light.
No virtue, though to heav'n allied,
Saves from the inevitable doom:
Heroes and sons of gods have died,
And sunk into the tomb.
Dear, whilst our eyes her presence blest,
Dear, in the gloomy mansions of the dead:
Most generous she, the noblest, best,
Who graced thy nuptial bed.

_Antistrophe II_

Thy wife's sepulchral mound {1060}
Deem not as common, worthless ground
That swells their breathless bodies o'er
Who die, and no are more.
No, be it honor'd as a shrine;
Raised high, and hallow'd to some Pow'r Divine:
The traveller, as he passes by,
Shall thither bend his devious way,
With reverence gaze, and with a sigh,
Smite on his breast, and say:
"She died of old to save her lord;
Now blest among the blest; Hail, Pow'r revered,
To us thy wonted grace afford!"
Such vows shall be preferred.

EXODUS, OR FINALE

_Re-enter Hercules, leading a veiled woman_

_Herc._ I would speak freely to my friend, Admetus,
Nor what I blame keep secret in my breast.
I came to thee amidst thy ills, and thought
I had been worthy to be proved thy friend.
Thou told'st me not the obsequies prepared {1080}
Were for thy wife; but in thy house receiv'dst me
As if thou griev'dst for one of foreign birth.
I bound my head with garlands, to the gods
Pouring libations in thy house with grief
Oppress'd. I blame this: yes, in such a state
I blame this: yet I come not in thine ills
To give thee pain; why I return in brief
Will I unfold. This woman from my hands
Receive to thy protection, till return'd
I bring the Thracian steeds, having there slain {1090}
The proud Bistorian tyrant; should I fail--
Be that mischance not mine, for much I wish
Safe to revisit thee--yet should I fail,
I give her to the safeguard of thy house.
For with much toil she came unto my hands.
To such as dare contend some public games,
Which well deserv'd my toil, I find propos'd;
I bring her thence, she is the prize of conquest:
For slight assays each victor led away
A courser; but for those of harder proof {1100}
The conqueror was rewarded from the herd,
And with some female graced; victorious there,
A prize so noble it were base to slight.
Take her to thy protection, not by stealth
Obtain'd, but the reward of many toils:
The time, perchance, may come when thou will thank me.
_Adm._ Not that I slight thy friendship, or esteem thee
Other than noble, wished I to conceal
My wife's unhappy fate; but to my grief
It had been added grief, if thou had'st sought
Elsewhere the rites of hospitality;
Suffice it that I mourn ills which are mine.
This woman, if it may be, give in charge,
I beg thee, king, to some Thessalian else,
That hath not cause like me to grieve; in Pherae
Thou may'st find many friends; call not my woes
Fresh to my memory; never in my house
Could I behold her, but my tears would flow:
To sorrow add not sorrow; now enough
I sink beneath its weight. Where should her youth
With me be guarded? for her gorgeous vests
Proclaim her young; if mixing with the men
She dwell beneath my roof, how shall her fame,
Conversing with the youths, be kept unsullied?
It is not easy to restrain the warmth
Of that intemperate age; my care for thee
Warns me of this. Or if from them remov'd
I hide her in th' apartments late my wife's,
How to my bed admit her? I should fear
A double blame: my citizens would scorn me
As light and faithless to the kindest wife
That died for me, if to her bed I took
Another blooming bride; and to the dead
Behoves me pay the highest reverence
Due to her merit. And thou, lady, know,
Whoe'er thou art, that form, that shape, that air
Resembles my Alcestis! By the Gods,
Remove her from my sight! it is too much,
I cannot bear it; when I look on her,
Methinks I see my wife; this wounds my heart
And calls the tears fresh gushing from my eyes.
This is the bitterness of grief indeed!
_Chor._ I cannot praise thy fortune; but behoves thee
To bear with firmness what the gods assign.
_Herc._ O that from Jove I had the pow'r to bring
Back from the mansions of the dead thy wife
To heav'n's fair light, that grace achieving for thee!
_Adm._ I know thy friendly will; but how can this
Be done? The dead return not to this light.
_Herc._ Check then thy swelling griefs; with reason rule them.
_Adm._ How easy to advise, but hard to bear!
_Herc._ What should it profit should'st thou always groan?
_Adm._ I know it; but I am in love with grief.
_Herc._ Love to the dead calls forth the ceaseless tear.
_Adm._ O, I am wretched more than words can speak.
_Herc._ A good wife hast thou lost, who can gainsay it?
_Adm._ Never can life be pleasant to me more.
_Herc._ Thy sorrow now is new; time will abate it.
_Adm._ Time say'st thou? Yes, the time that brings me death.
_Herc._ Some young and lovely bride will bid it cease.
_Adm._ No more: What say'st thou? Never could I think--
_Herc._ Will thou still lead a lonely widow'd life?
_Adm._ Never shall other women share my bed.
_Herc._ And think'st thou this will aught avail the dead?
_Adm._ This honor is her due, where'er she be.
_Herc._ This hath my praise, though near allied to frenzy.
_Adm._ Praise me or not, I ne'er will wed again.
_Herc._ I praise thee that thou'rt faithful to thy wife.
_Adm._ Though dead, if I betray her, may I die!
_Herc._ Well, take this noble lady to thy house. {1170}
_Adm._ No, by thy father Jove, let me entreat thee.
_Herc._ Not to do this would be the greatest wrong.
_Adm._ To do it would with anguish rend my heart.
_Herc._ Let me prevail; this grace may find its meed.
_Adm._ O that thou never had'st receiv'd this prize!
_Herc._ Yet in my victory thou art victor with me.
_Adm._ 'Tis nobly said: yet let this woman go.
_Herc._ If she must go, she shall! but must she go?
_Adm._ She must, if I incur not thy displeasure.
_Herc._ There is a cause that prompts my earnestness. {1180}
_Adm._ Thou hast prevailed, but much against my will.
_Herc._ The time will come when thou wilt thank me for it.
_Adm._ Well, if I must receive her, lead her in.
_Herc._ Charge servants with her! No, that must not be.
_Adm._ Lead her thyself, then, if thy will incline thee.
_Herc._ No, to thy hand alone will I commit her.
_Adm._ I touch her not; but she hath leave to enter.
_Herc._ I shall entrust her only to thy hand.
_Adm._ Thou dost constrain me, king, against my will.
_Herc._ Venture to stretch thy hand, and touch the stranger's. {1190}
_Adm._ I touch her, as I would the headless Gorgon.
_Herc._ Hast thou her hand?
_Adm._ I have.
_Herc._ (_lifting the veil_) Then hold her safe.
Hereafter thou wilt say the son of Jove
Hath been a generous guest; view now her face,
See if she bears resemblance to thy wife,
And thus made happy bid farewell to grief.
_Adm._ O, Gods, what shall I say? 'Tis marvelous,
Exceeding hope. See I my wife indeed?
Or doth some god distract me with false joy?
_Herc._ In very deed dost thou behold thy wife. {1200}
_Adm._ See that it be no phantom from beneath.
_Herc._ Make not thy friend one that evokes the shades.
_Adm._ And do I see my wife, whom I entomb'd?
_Herc._ I marvel not that thou art diffident.
_Adm._ I touch her; may I speak to her as living?
_Herc._ Speak to her: thou hast all thy heart could wish.
_Adm._ Dearest of women, do I see again
That face, that person? This exceeds all hope;
I never thought that I should see thee more.
_Herc._ Thou hast her; may no God be envious of thee. {1210}
_Adm._ O be thou blest, thou generous son of Jove!
Thy father's might protect thee! Thou alone
Hast rais'd her to me; from the realms below
How hast thou brought her to the light of life?
_Herc._ I fought with him that lords it o'er the shades.
_Adm._ Where with the gloomy tyrant didst thou fight?
_Herc._ I lay in wait and seized him at the tomb.
_Adm._ But wherefore doth my wife thus speechless stand?
_Herc._ It is not yet permitted[3] that thou hear
Her voice addressing thee, till from the Gods {1220}
That rule beneath she be unsanctified
With hallow'd rites, and the third morn return.
But lead her in; and as thou'rt just in all
Besides, Admetus, see thou reverence strangers.
Farewell: I go t' achieve the destined toil
For the imperial son of Sthenelus.
_Adm._ Abide with us, and share my friendly hearth.
_Herc._ That time will come again; this demands speed.
_Adm._ Success attend thee: safe may'st thou return.
Now to my citizens I give in charge, {1230}
And to each chief, that for this blest event
They institute the dance; let the steer bleed,
And the rich altars, as they pay their vows,
Breathe incense to the gods; for now I rise
To better life, and grateful own the blessing.

THE CHORUS, RETIRING:

Our fates the Gods in various shapes dispose: {1236}
Heaven sets the crown on many a hopeless cause:
That which is looked for
Fails in the issue.
To goals unexpected
Heav'n points out a passage.
And this is the end of the matter.

[1] The quotations are from Potter's Translation, in Routledge's Universal Library, freely altered in parts for the purpose of bringing out changes of metre, etc., in the original. The References are to the numbering of the lines in Potter.

[2] That is, a scene carried on upon the Stage without the presence of the Chorus in the Orchestra,--a very rare effect in Greek Drama.

[3] The fact was that the _Alcestis_ was represented in place of a 'Satyric Drama,' which only allowed two (speaking) personages on the Stage at the same time.

THE CYCLOPS OF EURIPIDES

A SPECIMEN OF THE SATYRIC DRAMA

_Scene_: Sicily, in front of cave of the Cyclops, Polyphemus.

_Prologue_ by Silenus, the rural demi-god, who recounts his faithful service to Bacchus, and yet the ungrateful god has let himself and his children fall into this slavery to the horrid Cyclops Polyphemus, where, worst of their many woes, they are debarred from the wine they worship.

_Parode_: The Chorus of Satyrs driving their goats and lamenting how different this from the merry service of Bacchus.

_Episode I_. Silenus hurries back with the news that a ship is approaching to water in the island: fresh victims for the monster. _Enter Ulysses and crew_: mutual explanations, all couched in 'burlesque' tone. The mariners have had no food except flesh, and gladly partake milk and fruits of the Satyrs, affording in return to Silenus the long-lost luxury of wine: the scene then going on to paint [with the utmost coarseness] the oncoming of drunkenness.

Suddenly _enter Polyphemus_: Ulysses and the crew hide. After some rough bandying between the Monster and the Chorus, the strangers are discovered: and Silenus, to save himself, turns traitor, and tells Polyphemus how they have beaten him because he would not let them steal, also what dire woes they were going to work upon Polyphemus. In spite of their protests Silenus is believed: Ulysses promises, if set free, to erect shrines in Greece for the Cyclops, besides dwelling upon the impiety of attacking innocent strangers: Polyphemus replies that he does not care for shrines, and as for impiety he is independent of Zeus; which gives occasion for a glorification of the life of nature. They are driven into the cave to be fed on at leisure.

_Choral Ode_: General disgust at the monster.

_Episode II_. Ulysses [_apparently standing at the mouth of the cave_] describes Polyphemus gorging--then details his plan of deliverance by aid of the wine.

_Choral Ode_: Lyric delight of Chorus at prospect of deliverance.

_Episode III_. The Cyclops appears sated with his banquet, and settling down to this new treat of drinking--the effects of on-coming intoxication are painted again in Polyphemus, with the usual coarseness--a farcical climax being reached when the monster begins to be affectionate to his cup-bearer, old Silenus, in memory of Zeus and his famous cup-bearer, Ganymede.

_Choral Ode_: Anticipation of Revenge.

_Exodus_. The plan of Revenge, the boring out of the Cyclops's one eye while overpowered with drink, is carried out--various farcical effects by the way, e.g., the Chorus drawing back with excuses and leaving Ulysses to do the deed at the critical moment. The Drama ends with the Monster's rage and vain attempts to catch the culprit, Ulysses putting him off with his feigned name 'No man': thus all are delivered.

THE BACCHANALS OF EURIPIDES[1]

PROLOGUE

_The permanent scene covered by movable scenery representing a wide landscape--the valley of the Dirce. A pile of buildings occupies the middle, to which the central entrance is an approach: these are the Cadmeia and royal palaces. That on the left is the palace of Pentheus, and further to the left is the mystic scene of Bacchus's birth--a heap of ruins, still miraculously smouldering, and covered by trailing vines. On the right is the palace of Cadmus, and the scene extends to take in the Electron gate of Thebes, and (on the right turn-scene) the slopes of Cithaeron._

DIONYSUS enters, in mortal guise, through the distance archway, and (in formal prologue) opens the situation. He brings out the points of the landscape before him, dear as the site of his miraculous birth and the sad end of his mortal mother. Then he details the Asiatic realms through which he has made triumphant progress, Lydia, Phrygia, sun-seared Persia, Bactria; the wild, wintry Median land; Araby the Blest, and the cities by the sea; everywhere his orgies accepted and his godhead received. Now for the first time he has reached an Hellenic city: and here--where least it should have been--his divinity is questioned by his own mother's sisters who make the story of his birth a false rumor, devised to cover Semele's shame, and avenged by the lightning flash which destroyed her. To punish his unnatural kin he has infected all their womenkind with his sacred phrensy, and maddened out of their quiet life, they are now on the revel under the pale pines of the mountain, unseemly mingled with the sons of Thebes: so shall the recusant city learn her guilt, and make atonement to him and his mother. Pentheus, it seems, is the main foe of his godhead, who reigns as king over Thebes, the aged Cadmus having yielded the sovereignty in his lifetime to his sister's son: he repels Bacchus from the sacred libations, nor names him in prayer. So he and Thebes must learn a dread lesson, and then away to make revelation in other lands. As to force, if attempt is made to drive the Maenads from the mountains, Bacchus himself will mingle in the war, and for this he has assumed mortal shape.

He calls upon his 'Thyasus of women,' fellow-pilgrims from the lands beyond the sea, to beat their Phrygian drums in noisy ritual about the palace of Pentheus till all Thebes shall flock to hear; he goes to join his worshippers on Cithaeron. {70}

PARODE, OR CHORUS-ENTRY

_The Chorus enter the orchestra, Asiatic women in wild attire of Bacchic rites, especially the motley (dappled fawnskin) always associated with abandon: they move with wild gestures and dances associated with Asiatic rituals._

The wild ode resumes the joyous dance that has made their whole way from Asia one long sacred revel--

Toilless toil and labour sweet.

Blest above all men he who hallows his life in such mystic rites, and, purified with holiest waters, goes dancing with the worshippers of Bacchus, and of thee, mighty Mother Cybele, shaking his thyrsus, and all his locks crowned with ivy. Bacchus's birth is sung, and how from the flashing lightning Jove snatched him and preserved in his thigh, until at the fated hour he gave him to light, horned and crowned with serpents. Wherefore should Thebes, sacred scene of the miracle, be one blossom of revellers, clad in motley and waving the thyrsus, the whole land maddening with the dance. The Chorus think of the first origin of such noisy joys, when the wild ones of Crete beat their cymbals round the sunless caverns where the infant Jove was hidden, and these rites of Rhoea soon mingled for the frantic Satyrs with the third year's dances to Bacchus. Then the ode recurs to the bliss of such holy rites, luxurious interchange of wild energy and delicious repose. They long for the climax of the dance, when, with luxuriant hair all floating, they can rage and madden to the clash of heavy cymbals and the shout Evoë, Evoê, frisking like colts to the soft breathing of the holy pipe, while the mountain echoes beneath their boundings. {178}

EPISODE I

The blind prophet Teiresias enters from Thebes, and is soon joined by Cadmus from the palace. Old as they are they have put on the livery of the god, and will join in the dance, for which supernatural strength will be given: they alone of the city are wise.

The ancestral faith, coeval with our race,
No subtle reasoning, if it soar aloft
Ev'n to the height of wisdom, can o'erthrow.

They are stopped by the entrance of Pentheus, as from a far journey. His opening words betray his anxiety as to the scandal in his realm--the young women of his family, even his mother Agave, all gone to join the impious revels.

In pretext, holy sacrificing Maenads,
But serving Aphrodite more than Bacchus.

Some he has imprisoned, the rest he will hunt from the mountains, and put an end to the joyous movements of this fair stranger with golden locks, who has come to guide their maidens to soft inebriate rites. Suddenly he sees his hero ancestor and the prophet in Bacchic attire. Bitter reproaches follow; the scene soon settling down into the forensic contest. Teiresias elaborately puts the case for the god. Man has two primal needs: one is the solid food of the boon mother, the other has been discovered by the son of their Semele--the rich grape's juice: this beguiles the miserable of their sorrow, this gives all-healing sleep. The author of such blessings is recognized in heaven as a god: yet Pentheus puts scorn upon him by the story of the babe hidden in Jove's thigh. [This is explained away by a play upon words, as between _ho meeros_, thigh, and _homeeros_, a hostage: Jove hid the infant god in a cleft of air, a hostage from the wrath of Heré.] Prophecy is ascribed to the wine-god, for phrensy is prophetic; and he is an ally in war, sending panic on the foe ere lance crosses lance. He will soon be a god celebrated through all Greece and hold torchdance on the crags of Delphi. Let Thebes take her place among the worshippers, fearing nought for the purity of its daughters, who will be no less holy in the revel than at home.--The Chorus approve, and Cadmus follows on the same side, urging policy: a splendid falsehood making Semele the mother of a god will advance their household. Pentheus shakes off Cadmus's clasp in disgust: bids some of his servants go and overturn the prophet's place of divination, and others seek out the stranger who leads the rebels. Exit to the palace, while Teiresias and Cadmus depart, in horror at his impiety, in the direction of Cithaeron. {379}

CHORAL INTERLUDE I

Shocked at such defiance of heaven the Chorus invoke Sanctity, crowned as goddess in the nether world, to hear the awful words of Pentheus, uttered against the immortal son of Semele, first and best of gods, ruler of the flower-crowned feast, and the dance's jocund strife, and the laughter, and the sparkling wine-cup, and the sweet sleep that follows the festival. Sorrow closes the lot of such aweless, unbridled madness: stability is for the calmly reverent life, knitting whole houses in sweet domestic harmony. Clasp the present of brief life: no grasping after a bright future with far-fetched wisdom. Oh, for the lands where the graces and sweet desire have their haunts, and young loves soothe the heart with tender guile: fit regions for the Bacchanals, whose joy is Peace--wealth-giver to rich and poor. Away with stern austerity: hail the homely wisdom of the multitude. {439}

EPISODE II

An officer brings in Dionysus as prisoner; he has yielded himself without resistance, while as for the imprisoned worshippers their chains have fallen off spontaneous, and they are away to the revels on the mountains. In long-drawn parallel dialogue Pentheus questions the Stranger--struck with his beauty though he be. Dionysus calmly answers to every point, but allows the orgies are secret and must not be revealed to the uninitiated. The King threatens in vain.

_Pen._ First I will clip away those soft bright locks.
_Dio._ My locks are holy, dedicate to my god.
_Pen._ Next, give thou me that thyrsus in thy hand.
_Dio._ Take it thyself; 'tis Dionysus' wand.
_Pen._ I'll bind thy body in strong iron chains.
_Dio._ My god himself will loose them when he will.
_Pen._ When thou invok'st him 'mid thy Bacchanals.
_Dio._ Even now he is present, he beholds me now.
_Pen._ Where is he then? mine eyes perceive him not.
_Dio._ Near me: the impious eyes may not discern him.

The king relies on his superior strength.

_Dio._ Thou knowest not where thou art or what thou art.
_Pen._ Pentheus, Agave's son, my sire Echion.
_Dio._ Thou hast a name whose very sound is woe.

Dionysus is removed a prisoner to the palace of Pentheus, while the latter retires to prepare measures against the Maenads.

CHORAL INTERLUDE II

The Chorus, addressing the landscape before them, expostulate with the sacred stream in which the infant god was dipped for not accepting the divinity whose mystic name is 'Twice-born.' They call upon Dionysus to see them from Olympus, his rapt prophets at strife with dark necessity, and, golden wand in hand, to come to their rescue against the threats of the proud dragon-brood. They are wondering what fair land of song may be holding their sacred leader, when cries from within put an end to the ode. {582}

EPISODE III

In wild lyric snatches shouts are interchanged between Dionysus within and groups of the disordered Chorus, bringing out the tumultuous scene--the earth rocking beneath them, sounds of crashing masonry, capitals of pillars hurled through the air; then _by the machinery of the hemicyclium the whole scene left of the center disappears and is replaced by a tableau representing Pentheus' palace in ruins, and the smouldering tomb of Semele surmounted by bright flame. From the ruins steps Dionysus, unharmed and free, the metre breaking into accelerated rhythm_. {613}

_Dio._ O, ye Barbarian women. Thus prostrate in dismay;
Upon the earth ye've fallen! See ye not as ye may,
How Bacchus Pentheus' palace In wrath hath shaken down?
Rise up! rise up! take courage--Shake off that trembling swoon.
_Chor._ O light that goodliest shinest Over our mystic rite,
In state forlorn we saw thee--Saw with what deep affright!
_Dio._ How to despair ye yielded As I boldly entered in
To Pentheus, as if captured, into that fatal gin.
_Chor._ How could I less? Who guards us If thou shouldst come to woe?
But how wast thou delivered From thy ungodly foe?
_Dio._ Myself myself delivered With ease and effort slight.
_Chor._ Thy hands had he not bound them In halters strong and tight?
_Dio._ 'Twas even then I mocked him: He thought me in his chain;
He touched me not nor reached me; His idle thoughts were vain!
In the stable stood a heifer Where he thought he had me bound;
Round the beast's knees his cords And cloven hoofs he wound,
Wrath-breathing, from his body The sweat fell like a flood,
He bit his lips in fury, While I beside who stood
Looked on in unmoved quiet.
As at that instant come,
Shook Bacchus the strong palace, And on his mother's tomb
Flames kindled. When he saw it, on fire the palace deeming,
Hither he rushed and thither. For 'Water, water,' screaming;
And every slave 'gan labor, But labored all in vain,
The toil he soon abandoned. As though I had fled amain
He rushed into the palace: In his hand the dark sword gleamed.
Then as it seemed, great Bromius--I say but, as it seemed--
In the hall a bright light kindled. On that
he rushed, and there,
As slaying me in vengeance, Stood stabbing the thin air.
But then the avenging Bacchus Wrought new calamities;
From roof to base that palace In smouldering ruin lies.
Bitter ruing our imprisonment, With toil forespent he threw
On earth his useless weapon. Mortal, he had dared to do
'Gainst a god unholy battle. But I, in quiet state,
Unheeding Pentheus' anger, Came through the palace gate.
It seems even now his sandal Is sounding on its way;
Soon is he here before us, And what now will he say?
With ease will I confront him, Ire-breathing though he stand.
'Tis easy to a wise man To practice self-command. {651}

Blank verse is resumed as Pentheus enters, and meets his escaped prisoner who calmly confronts him. As Pentheus begins to threaten, Dionysus advises him first to hear the messenger even now entering from Cithaeron. An elaborate _Messenger's Speech_ describes the miraculous life of the Maenads as they lie on the mountains, careless but not immodest. At the touch of their thyrsus the rock yields dew and the soil wine; their fingers lightly scraping the soil draw streams of exquisite milk, and honey distils from their ivied staffs. A city-bred agitator stirred up the herdsmen to confront them, but the phrensied women drove the men before them, and tore the herds to pieces; like a flock of birds they skimmed along the land, and all gave way before them.

And what they threw across their shoulders, clung
Unfastened, nor fell down to the black ground,
No brass, nor ponderous iron; on their locks
Was fire that burned them not.

Then god-given fountains washed off the stains of their toil, and their serpents licked them clean. Even the Messenger advises submission to so mighty a god, dispensing such gifts.

Pentheus breathes nothing but defiance, and issues orders for the whole military force of Thebes to assemble. He is bewildered by the stranger, who doing or suffering still holds his peace. In long-drawn parallel verses Dionysus gradually assumes the friend, and--still warning the king that he is on the side of the god--insinuates into the mind of Pentheus the idea of visiting the scene, disguised in the feminine robes of the revellers. As the king retires to prepare, Dionysus proclaims that he is fallen into the net, and vengeance shall first deprive him of sense and then destroy him. {868}

CHORAL INTERLUDE III

As the crisis comes nearer the Chorus long for the moment of escape--the sensation of the hart that has leaped the net and with storm-wind haste escaped the hunter's pursuit and reached the silent shadow of the old hospitable wood. VICTORY IS THE JOY OF JOYS. Slow and true are the avenging deities, with printless foot hounding the impious along their winding path: for law is old as oldest time. VICTORY IS THE JOY OF JOYS. Happy the sailor in port, he whose race is o'er: hopes hover over thousands, but

Happiness alone is his
That happy is to-day. {928}

EPISODE IV

Pentheus appears from the palace of Cadmus in disguise as a Maenad. Infatuation has become a phrensy: he sees double, Dionysus seems a bull, his eyes penetrate into distance and perceive his mother and her comrades. Unconscious of the laughter of Dionysus he adjusts his feminine dress and practices the Maenad step. Irony is added:

_Dio._ Follow me! thy preserver goes before thee;
Another takes thee hence.
_Pen._ Mean'st thou my mother?
_Dio._ Aloft shalt thou be borne--
_Pen._ O the soft carriage!
_Dio._ In thy mother's hands.
_Pen._ Wilt make me thus luxurious?
_Dio._ Strange luxury, indeed!
_Pen._ 'Tis my desert.

Exclaiming in ambiguous phrase as to the awful end to which he is destined, Dionysus leads the king out towards Cithaeron. {986}

CHORAL INTERLUDE IV

The crisis is come! Ho, to the mountains; where the Chorus picture the scene already being enacted, the hunter of the Bacchanals caught in the inexorable net of death. VENGEANCE ON THE LAWLESS SON OF ECHION is the recurrent burden of the ode. Its prayer is to hold fast the pious mind, the smooth painless life at peace with heaven and earth, instead of fighting with the invincible, aweless outcast from all law. {1036}

EPISODE V

A _Messenger's Speech_ describes the catastrophe. How Pentheus, arrived within sight of the orderly Maenads, was not satisfied, but desired a higher station from which to view their unseemly life. Then a wonder: the stranger bent down an ash tree, and seating Pentheus in a fork of it let the tree return to its position, holding the wretched king aloft, seen of all.

The stranger from our view had vanished quite.
Then from the heavens a voice, as it should seem,
Dionysus, shouted loud, "Behold, I bring,
O maidens, him that you and me, our rites,
Our orgies laughed to scorn; now take your vengeance."
And as he spake, a light of holy fire
Stood up, and blazed from earth straight up to heaven.
Silent the air, silent the verdant grove
Held its still leaves; no sound of living thing.
They, as their ears just caught the half-heard voice,
Stood up erect, and rolled their wandering eyes,
Again he shouted. But when Cadmus' daughters
Heard manifest the god's awakening voice,
Forth rushed they, fleeter than the winged dove,
Their nimble feet quick coursing up and down.

How then the Maenads set upon him and tore him to pieces, his own mother leading them on: in triumph dance they are bringing his head to the city. Adore the gods, is the moral. {1164}

CHORAL INTERLUDE V

A short outburst of triumph from the Chorus: then the {1180}

EXODUS

begins with the approach of the Maenads, Agave bearing her son's head on a thyrsus. In a brief _lyric concerto_ between her and the mocking Chorus her phrensied triumph is brought out, and how she takes the bleeding object to be head of a young lion. At that moment the trumpet sounds, and the army that had been summoned appears at the Electran gate. Agave turns to them, and (in blank verse) calls all Thebans to behold the quarry she has taken without the useless weapons of the hunter; it shall be nailed up a trophy before her father's house. _Shortly after enters on the right a melancholy procession of Cadmus and his servants bearing the fragments of Pentheus' body, with difficulty discovered and pieced together_. In extended parallel dialogue between Cadmus and Evadne the phrensy gradually passes away from her and she recognizes the deed she has done. Cadmus sums up the final situation: all the house enwrapped in one dread doom. The Chorus sympathize with Cadmus, but have no pity for Agave. She then follows with a rhesis of woe, interrupted by {1365}

DIVINE INTERVENTION

Dionysus appears aloft, in divine form. The MSS. are defective here: from what we have the god appears to be painting the future of Cadmus: life in a dragon form, victories at the head of barbarian hosts, finally the Isles of the Blest. Agave as stained with blood is banished the land, vainly imploring the god's mercy. With lamentations at the thought of exile, which is the lot of both, the play ends.

[1] The quotations are from Milman's translation in Routledge's Universal Library.

PASSAGES

1

_Evolution of human life_

_Prometheus._ List rather to the deeds
I did for mortals: how, being fools before
I made them wise and true in aim of soul,
And let me tell you--not as taunting men,
But teaching you the intention of my gifts--
How, first beholding, they beheld in vain,
And hearing, heard not, but like shapes in dreams
Mixed all things wildly down the tedious time;
Nor knew to build a house against the sun
With wicketed sides, nor any woodcraft knew,
But lived, like silly ants, beneath the ground,
In hollow caves unsunned. There came to them
No steadfast sign of winter nor of spring,
Flower perfumed, nor summer full of fruit;
But blindly and lawlessly they did all things,
Until I taught them how the stars do rise
And set in mystery, and devised for them
Number, the inducer of philosophies,
The synthesis of letters, and, beside,
The artificer of all things, Memory,
That sweet Muse-Mother. I was first to yoke
The servile beasts in couples, carrying
An heirdom of man's burdens on their backs.
I joined to chariots steeds that love the bit
They clamp at--the chief pomp of golden ease.
And none but I originated ships,
The seaman's chariots wandering on the brine,
With linen wings. And I--oh miserable!--
Who did devise for mortals all these arts,
Have no device left now to save myself
From the woe I suffer.

_Chorus._ Most unseemly woe
Thou sufferest, and dost stagger from the sense
Bewildered! like a bad leech falling sick,
Thou art faint at soul, and canst not find the drugs
Required to save thyself.

_Prometheus._ Hearken the rest,
And marvel further, what more arts and means
I did invent, this greatest: if a man
Fell sick there was no cure, nor esculent,
Nor chrism, nor liquid, but for lack of drugs
Men pined and wasted, till I showed them all
Those mixtures of emollient remedies,
Whereby they might be rescued from disease,
I fixed the various rules of mantic art,
Discerned the vision from the common dream,
Instructed them in vocal auguries,
Hard to interpret, and defined as plain
The wayside omens--flights of crook-clawed birds--
Showed which are, by their nature, fortunate,
And which not so, and what the food of each,
And what the hates, affections, social needs,
Of all to one another,--taught what sign
Of visceral lightness, colored to a shade,
May charm the genial gods, and what fair spots
Commend the lung and liver. Burning so
The limbs encased in fat, and the long chine,
I led my mortals on to an art abstruse,
And cleared their eyes to the image in the fire,
Erst filmed in dark. Enough said now of this:
For the other helps of man hid underground,
The iron and the brass, silver and gold,
Can any dare affirm he found them out
Before me? None, I know, unless he choose
To lie in his vaunt. In one word learn the whole:
That all arts come to mortals from Prometheus.
Aeschylus: _Prometheus_. [Mrs. Browning's
translation.]

2

(_For comparison with the preceding_)

Warmly this argument with others oft
Have I disputed, who assert that ill
To mortal man assign'd outweighs the good.
Far otherwise I deem, that good is dealt
To man in larger portions: were it not,
We could not bear the light of life. That Power,
Whatever god he be, that called us forth
From foul and savage life, hath my best thanks.
Inspiring reason first, he gave the tongue
Articulate sounds, the intercourse of language:
The fruits of earth he gave, and to that growth
The heaven-descending rain, that from the earth,
Cheer'd by its kindly dews, they might arise,
And bear their life-sustaining food mature: to this
The warm defense against th' inclement storm
He taught to raise, and the umbrageous roof
The fiery sun excluding: the tall bark
He gave to bound o'er the wide sea, and bear
From realm to realm in grateful interchange
The fruits each wants. Is aught obscure, aught hid?
Doubts darkening on the mind the mounting blaze
Removes; or from the entrail's panting fibres
The seer divines, or from the flight of birds.
Are we not then fastidious to repine
At such a life so furnish'd by the gods?
Euripides: _Suppliants_ 214. [Potter.]

3

_Specimen of Accelerated Rhythm in the exact metre_

AEGISTHUS

How thy word and act shall issue thou shalt shortly understand.
CHORUS

Up to action, O my comrades! for the fight is hard at hand,
Swift, your right hands to the sword hilt! bare the weapon as for strife.

AEGISTHUS
Lo! I too am standing ready, hilt to hilt, for death, or life!

CHORUS
'Twas thy word and we accept it! onward to the chance of war!

CLYTEMNESTRA
Nay, enough, enough, my champion! we will smite and slay no more.
Already we have heaped enough the harvest-field of guilt,
Enough of wrong and murder, let no other blood be spilt!
Peace, old men! and pass away into the homes by fate decreed,
Lest ill valor meet our vengeance--'twas a necessary deed.
But enough of toils and troubles--be the end, if ever, now,
Ere the wrath of the Avenger deal another deadly blow.
'Tis a woman's word of warning, and let who will list thereto.

AEGISTHUS
But that these should loose and lavish reckless blossoms of the tongue,
And in hazard of their fortune cast upon me words of wrong,
And forget the law of subjects, and to heed their ruler's word--

CHORUS
Ruler? but 'tis not for Argives, thus to own a dastard lord!

AEGISTHUS
I will follow to chastise thee in my coming days of sway.

CHORUS
Not if Fortune guide Orestes safely on his homeward way.

AEGISTHUS
Ah, well I know how exiles feed on hopes of their return!

CHORUS
Feed and batten on pollution of the right, while 'tis thy turn!

AEGISTHUS
Thou shalt pay, be well assured, heavy quittance for thy pride.

CHORUS
Crow and strut, with her beside thee, like a cock, his mate beside!

CLYTEMNESTRA
Heed not thou too highly of them--let the cur-pack growl and yell--
I and thou will rule the palace and will order all things well?
Conclusion of _Agamemnon_. (Morshead.)

4

_Scene from the 'Hercules Mad' of Euripides_

_Translated by Robert Browning_

CHORUS OF OLD MEN

Horror!
Are we come to the self-same passion of fear,
Old friends?--such a phantasm fronts me here
Visible over the palace-roof!
In flight, in flight, the laggard limb
Bestir, and haste aloof
From that on the roof there--grand and grim!
O Paian, king!
Be thou my safeguard from the woeful thing!

IRIS
Courage, old men! beholding here--Night's birth--
Madness, and me the handmaid of the gods,
Iris: since to your town we come no plague--
Wage war against the house of but one man
From Zeus and from Alkmene sprung, they say.
Now, till he made an end of bitter toils
Fate kept him safe, nor did his father Zeus
Let us once hurt him, Heré nor myself.
But since he has toiled through Eurustheus' task
Heré desires to fix fresh blood on him--
Slaying his children; I desire it too.

Up then, collecting the unsoftened heart,
Unwedded virgin of black Night! Drive, drag,
Frenzy upon the man here--whirls of brain
Big with child-murder, while his feet leap gay.
Let go the bloody cable its whole length!
So that,--when o'er the Acherousian ford
He has sent floating, by self-homicide,
His beautiful boy-garland,--he may know
First, Heré's anger, what it is to him,
And then learn mine. The gods are vile indeed
And mortal matters vast if he 'scape free.

MADNESS
Certes, from well-born sire and mother too
Had I my birth, whose blood is Night's and Heaven's;
But here's my glory,--not to grudge the good!
Nor love I raids against the friends of man.
I wish, then, to persuade, before I see
You stumbling, you and Heré: trust my words!
This man, the house of whom ye hound me to,
Is not unfamed on earth, nor gods among;
Since, having quelled waste land and savage sea,
He alone raised again the falling rights
Of gods--gone ruinous through impious men.
Desire no mighty mischief, I advise!

IRIS
Give thou no thought to Heré's faulty schemes!

MADNESS
Changing her step from faulty to fault-free!

IRIS
Not to be wise, did Zeus' wife send thee here!

MADNESS
Sun, thee I cite to witness--doing what I loath to do!
But since indeed to Heré and thyself I must subserve,
And follow you quick, with a whizz,
as the hounds a-hunt with the huntsman,
--Go I will! and neither the sea, as it groans
with its waves so furiously,
Nor earthquake, no, nor the bolt of thunder
gasping out heaven's labor-throe,
Shall cover the ground as I, at a bound,
rush into the bosom of Herakles!
And home I scatter and house I batter,
Having first of all made the children fall,--
And he who felled them is never to know
He gave birth to each child that received the blow,
Till the Madness I am have let him go!