Chapter VIII: Part 8

HERMES. Ponder well my prudent counsel, Nor, when evil hunts thee out, Blame great Jove that he doth smite thee With an unexpected stroke. Not the gods; thy proper folly Is the parent of thy woes.[f18] Jove hath laid no trap to snare thee, But the scapeless net of ruin Thou hast woven for thyself.

PROMETHEUS. Now his threats walk forth in action, And the firm Earth quakes indeed. Deep and loud the ambient Thunder Bellows, and the flaring Lightning Wreathes his fiery curls around me, And the Whirlwind rolls his dust; And the Winds from rival regions Rush in elemental strife, And the Ocean's storm-vexed billows {211} Mingle with the startled stars! Doubtless now the tyrant gathers All his hoarded wrath to whelm me. Mighty Mother, worshipped Themis, Circling Ether that diffusest Light, a common joy to all, Thou beholdest these my wrongs!

[The End]

THE SUPPLIANTS

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A LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby Some have entertained angels unawares. ST. PAUL.

πρὸς γὰρ Διός ἐισιν ἅπαντες
Ξεῖνοί τε πτωχόι τε.
HOMER.

PERSONS

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CHORUS OF DANAIDES. DANAUS. PELASGUS, King of Argos, and Attendants. HERALD.

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

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DANAUS, according to the received Greek story, was an Egyptian, who founded a colony in Argos, at some date between the age of the oldest Argive king Inachus, and the Trojan war. In the reality of this sea-faring adventurer, modern historians, following the faith of the ancient Greeks, have generally acquiesced, till, latterly, the Germans, with that instinctive hostility to external tradition which characterises them, have boldly ventured to explain both the Egyptian and his colony away into a symbol, or an inanity. Of our most recent writers, however, THIRLWALL, after considering all the German speculations on the subject, is not ashamed to say a word in favour of the possibility or probability of an Egyptian colony in Argos;[f1] while CLINTON[f2] (Introd. pp. 6, 7), boldly announces the principle that "we may acknowledge as real persons all those whom there is no reason for rejecting. The presumption is in favour of the early tradition. . . . Cadmus and Danaus appear to be real persons; for it is conformable to the state of mankind, and perfectly credible that Phœnician and Egyptian adventurers, in the ages to which these persons are ascribed, should have found their way to the coasts of Greece." GROTE, however, seems to have acted most wisely in refusing to decide whether any particular legend of the earliest times is mythical or historical, on the ground that, though many of the legends doubtless contain truth, they contain it only "in a sort of chemical combination with fiction, which we have no means of decomposing"--(II. p. 50). This play of Æschylus, therefore, cannot boast of any accessory historical superadded to the principal poetic interest.

Danaus, the legend tells, though an Egyptian born, was not of Egyptian descent. The original mother of his race was Io, daughter of Inachus, king of Argos, and priestess of Hera in that place. How this much-persecuted maid found her way from the banks of the "Erasinus old" to the shores of the nurturing Nile, we have seen in the previous piece. Danaus had a brother called Ægyptus, the father of fifty sons, as himself was of fifty daughters. These fifty sons Ægyptus sought to unite in wedlock to the equal-numbered progeny of his brother; but the chaste maidens, whether because they actually thought it unholy (as it certainly is, in the general case, unadvisable) for first cousins to marry first cousins, or {216} because the suit was pressed in a manner not the most respectful, or from a combination of both motives, refused to enter into the bond; and, to escape the importunities of their stronger male suitors, fled, under the guidance of their father, over the seas to Greece. As kind chance, or, rather, Divine Providence, would have it, they were wafted to that very part of Greece whence their famous ancestress Io had originally proceeded, when the god-sent gadfly drove her, in a career of tempestuous wanderings, through great part of Europe and Asia, to Egypt. With their landing on this coast the present opera commences; and the action which it represents is the very simple one of the reception of the Libyan fugitives, by the Argive monarch Pelasgus (otherwise called Gelanor), and their participation in the rights and privileges of Argive citizenship. The transference of their affections from Nile to Erasinus is solemnly sung in the concluding chaunt. The Danaides are now Argives.

Considered by itself, the action of this piece is the most meagre that can be conceived, and, as the poet has handled it, contains little that can stir the deeper feelings of the heart, or strike the imagination strongly. That the king of the Argives should feel serious doubts as to the propriety of receiving such a band of foreigners into his kingdom, formidable not in their own strength, indeed, but in respect of the pursuing party, by whom they were claimed, was most natural; equally natural, however, and, in a poetic point of view, necessary, that his political fears should finally be outweighed by his benevolent regard for the rights of unprotected virgins, and his pious fear of the wrath of Jove, the protector of suppliants. The alternation of mind between these contending feelings, till a final resolve is taken on the side of the right, affords no field for the higher faculty of the dramatist to display itself. As we have it, accordingly, the Suppliants is, perhaps, the weakest performance of Æschylus. But the fact is, there is the best reason to believe that the great father of tragedy never meant this piece to stand alone, but wrote it merely to usher in the main action, which followed in the other pieces of a trilogy; the names of which pieces--Ἀιγύπτιοι, and Δαναίδες--are preserved in the list of the author's pieces still extant. Of this, the whole conclusion of the present piece, and especially the latter half of the last choral chaunt, furnishes the most conclusive evidence.

The remainder of the story, which formed the main action of the trilogy, is well known. Immediately after the reception of the fugitives, by the Argives, their pursuers arrive, and land on the coast. This arrival is announced in the last scene of the present piece. On {217} this, Danaus, unwilling to lead his kind host into a war, pretends to yield to the suit still as eagerly pressed, and the marriage is agreed on. But a terrible revenge had been devised. At the very moment that he hands over his unwilling but obedient daughters to the subjection of their hated cousins, he gives them secret instructions to furnish themselves each with a dagger, and, during the watches of the nuptial night, to dip the steel in the throats of their unsuspecting lords. The bloody deed was completed. Only one of all the fifty daughters, preferring the fame of true womanhood to the claims of filial homage, spared her mate. Hypermnestra saved her husband Lynceus. This conduct, of course, brought the daughter into collision with her father and her father's family; and one of those strifes of our mysterious moral nature was educed, which, as we have seen in the trilogy of the Orestiad, it was one great purpose of the Æschylean drama to reconcile. If the murder occupied the second piece, as the progress of the story naturally brings with it, a third piece, according to the analogy of the Eumenides, would be necessary to bring about the reconciliation, and effect that purifying of the passions which Aristotle points out as the great moral result of tragic composition. That Aphrodite was the great celestial agent employed in the finale of the Suppliants, as Pallas Athena is in the Furies, has been well divined; a beautiful fragment in celebration of love, and in favour of Hypermnestra remains; but to attempt a reconstruction of these lost pieces at the present day, though an amusement of which the learned Germans are fond, is foreign to the habits of the British mind. Those who feel inclined to see what ingenuity may achieve in this region, are referred to Welcker's Trilogie, and Gruppe's Ariadne.

The moral tone and character of this piece is in the highest degree pleasing and satisfactory. The Supreme Jove, whose prominent attribute is power, here receives a glorification as the protector of the persecuted, and the refuge of the distressed. On the duty of hospitality, under the sanction of Ζεύς ξένιος and ἱκεσιος, as practised among the ancient Greeks, I refer the reader with pleasure to Grote's History of Greece, Vol. II., p. 114.

"The scene," says Potter, "is near the shore, in an open grove, close to the altar and images of the gods presiding over the sacred games, with a view of the sea and ships of Egyptus on one side, and of the town of Argos on the other, with hills, and woods, and vales, a river flowing between them: all, together with the persons of the drama, forming a picture that would have well employed the united pencils of Poussin and Claude."

THE SUPPLIANTS

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[CHORUS, _entering the stage in procession. March time._

CHORUS.
Jove, the suppliant's high protector,[n1]
Look from Heaven, benignly favouring
Us the suppliant band, swift-oared
Hither sailing, from the seven mouths
Of the fat fine-sanded Nile![n2]
From the land that fringes Syria,
Land divine, in flight we came,
Not by public vote forth-driven,
Not by taint of blood divorced
From our native state,[f3] but chastely
Our abhorrent foot withdrawing
From impure ungodly wedlock
With Ægyptus' sons, too nearly
Cousined with ourselves. For wisely,
This our threatened harm well-weighing,
Danaus, our sire, prime counsellor,
And leader of our sistered band,
Timely chose this least of sorrows
O'er the salt-sea wave to flee;
And here on Argive soil to plant us,
Whence our race its vaunted spring
Drew divinely, when great Jove
Gently thrilled the brize-stung heifer[n3]
With his procreant touch, and breathed
Godlike virtue on her womb.
Where on Earth should we hope refuge
On more friendly ground than this,
In our hands these green boughs bearing
Wreathed with precatory wool?[f4]
Ye blissful gods supremely swaying[n4]
Land and city, and lucid streams;
And ye in sepulchres dark, severely
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Worshipped 'neath the sunless ground;
And thou, the third, great Jove the Saviour,
Guardian of all holy homes,
With your spirit gracious-wafted,
Breathe fair welcome on this band
Of suppliant maids. But in the depth
Of whirling waves engulph the swarm
Of insolent youths, Ægyptus' sons,
Them, and their sea-cars swiftly oared,
Ere this slimy shore receive
Their hated footprint. Let them labour,
With wrath-spitting seas confronted:
By the wild storm wintry-beating,
Thunder-crashing, lightning flashing,
By the tyrannous blast shower-laden
Let them perish, ere they mount
Marriage beds which right refuses,[n5]
Us, their father's brother's daughters
To their lawless yoke enthralling!

[_The_ CHORUS _assemble in a band round the centre of the Orchestra, and
sing the Choral Hymn._

CHORAL HYMN. STROPHE I. Give ear to our prayer, we implore thee, Thou son, and the mother that bore thee-- The calf and the heifer divine![f5] From afar be thine offspring's avenger, Even thou, once a beautiful ranger O'er these meads with the grass-cropping kine! And thou, whom she bore to her honor, When the breath of the Highest was on her, And the touch of the finger divine; Thine ear, mighty god, we implore thee To the prayer of thine offspring incline!

ANTISTROPHE I. O Thou who with blessing anointed, Wert born when by Fate 'twas appointed, With thy name to all ages a sign![f6] In this land of the mother that bore thee, Her toils we remember before thee, Where she cropped the green mead with the kine. {221} O strange were her fortunes, and stranger The fate that hath chased me from danger To the home of the heifer divine. O son, with the mother that bore thee, Stamp my tale with thy truth for a sign!

STROPHE AND ANTISTROPHE II. While we cry, should there haply be near us An Argive, an augur,[f7] to hear us, When our shrill-piercing wail His ear shall assail, 'Tis the cry he will deem, and none other, Of Procne, the woe-wedded mother, The hawk-hunted nightingale;[f8] Sad bird, when its known streams it leaveth, And with fresh-bleeding grief lonely grieveth, And telleth the tale, With a shrill-voiced wail, How the son that she loved, and none other, Was slain by his fell-purposed mother, The woe-wedded nightingale!

STROPHE III.
Even so from the Nile summer-tinted,
With Ionian wailings unstinted,[n6]
My cheek with the keen nail I tear;
And I pluck, where it bloweth,
Griefs blossom that groweth
In this heart first acquainted with care;
And I fear the fierce band,
From the far misty land,[n7]
Whom the swift ships to Argos may bear.

ANTISTROPHE III.
Ye gods of my race, seeing clearly
The right which ye cherish so dearly,
To the haughty your hatred declare!
'Gainst the right ye will never
Chaste virgins deliver,
The bed of the lawless to share;
From the god-fenced altar
Each awe-struck assaulter
Back shrinks. Our sure bulwark is there.

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STROPHE IV. O would that Jove might show to men His counsel as he planned it; But ah! he darky weaves the scheme, No mortal eye hath scanned it. It burns through darkness brightly clear To whom the god shall show it; But mortal man, through cloudy fear, Shall search in vain to know it.

ANTISTROPHE IV. Firm to the goal his purpose treads, His will knows no frustration; When with his brow the mighty god Hath nodded consummation. But strangely, strangely weave their maze His counsels, dusky wending, Concealed in densely-tangled ways From human comprehending.

STROPHE V. From their high-towering hopes the proud In wretched rout he casteth. No force he wields; his simple will, His quiet sentence blasteth. All godlike power is calm;[n8] and high On thrones of glory seated, Jove looks from Heaven with tranquil eye, And sees his will completed.

ANTISTROPHE V. Look down, O mighty god, and see How this harsh wedlock planning, That dry old tree in saplings green, The insolent lust is fanning! Madly he hugs the frenzied plan With perverse heart unbending, Hot-spurred, till Ruin seize the man, Too late to think of mending.

STROPHE VI.
Ah! well-a-day! ah! well-a-day![n9]
Thus sadly I hymn the sorrowful lay,
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With a shrill-voiced cry,
With a sorrow-streaming eye,
Well-a-day, woe's me!
Thus I grace my own tomb with the wail pouring free,
Thus I sing my own dirge, ah me![f9]
Ye Apian hills, be kind to me,
And throw not back the stranger's note,
But know the Libyan wail.
Behold how, rent to sorrow's note,
My linen robes all loosely float,
And my Sidonian veil.

ANTISTROPHE VI.
Ah! well-a-day! ah! well-a-day!
My plighted vows I'll duly pay,
Ye gods, if ye will save
From the foe, and from the grave
My trembling life set free!
Surges high, surges high, sorrow's many-billowed sea,
And woe towers on woe. Ah me!
Ye Apian hills,[n10] be kind to me,
And throw not back the stranger's note
But know the Libyan wail!
Behold how, rent to sorrow's note,
My linen robes all loosely float,
And my Sidonian veil!

STROPHE VII. And yet, in that slight timbered house, well-armed With frequent-plashing oar, Stiff sail and cordage straining, all unharmed By winter's stormy roar, We reached this Argive shore. Safely so far. May Jove, the all-seeing, send As the beginning, so the prosperous end. And may he grant, indeed, That we, a gracious mother's gracious seed, By no harsh kindred wooed, May live on Apian ground unyoked and unsubdued!

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ANTISTROPHE VII. May she, the virgin daughter of high Jove,[f10] Our virgin litany hear, Our loving homage answering with more love! She that, with face severe, Repelled, in awful fear, Each rude aggressor, in firm virtue cased, Nor knew the lustful touch divinely chaste. And may she grant, indeed, That we, a gracious mother's gracious seed, By no harsh kindred wooed, May live on Apian ground unyoked and unsubdued.

STROPHE VIII.
But if no aid to us may be,
Libya's swart sun-beaten daughters,
The rope shall end our toils; and we,
Beneath the ground, shall fare to thee,
Thou many-guested Jove,[f11]
To thee our suppliant boughs we'll spread,
Thou Saviour of the weary Dead,
Far from the shining thrones of blissful gods above.
Ah, Jove too well we know
What wrath divine scourged ancient Io, wailing
Beneath thy consort's anger heaven-scaling;
And even so,
On Io's seed may blow
A buffeting blast from her of black despairful woe.

ANTISTROPHE VIII.
O Jove, how then wilt thou be free
From just reproach of Libya's daughters,
If thou in us dishonoured see
Him whom the heifer bore to thee
Whom thou didst chiefly love.
If thou from us shalt turn thy face,
What suppliant then shall seek thy grace?
O hear my prayer enthroned in loftiest state above!
For well, too well, we know
What wrath divine scourged ancient Io, wailing
Beneath thy consort's anger heaven-scaling;
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And even so,
On Io's seed may blow
A buffeting blast from her of black despairful woe.

[_Enter_ DANAUS.

DANAUS. Be wise, my daughters. In no rash flight with me, A hoary father, and a faithful pilot, Ye crossed the seas; nor less is wisdom needful Ashore; be wise, and on your heart's true tablet Engrave my words. For lo! where mounts the dust, A voiceless herald of their coming; hear Their distant-rumbling wheels! A host I see Of bright shield-bearing and spear-shaking men, Swift steeds, and rounded cars.[n11] Of our here landing, Timely apprised, the chiefs that rule this country Come with their eyes to read us. But be their coming Harmless, or harsh with fell displeasure, here On this high-seat of the Agonian gods[n12] Is safety for my daughters; for an altar Is a sure tower of strength, a shield that bears The rattling terror dintless. Go ye, therefore, Embrace these altars, in your sistered hands[n13] These white-wreathed precatory boughs presenting, Which awful Jove reveres; and with choice phrase Wisely your pity-moving tale-commend When they shall ask you; as becomes the stranger, The bloodless motive of your flight declaring With clear recital. The bold tongue eschewing, With sober-fronted face and quiet eye Your tale unfold. The garrulous prate, the length Of slow-drawn speech beware. Such fault offends This people sorely. Chiefly know to yield: Thou art the weaker--a poor helpless stranger-- The bold-mouthed phrase suits ill with thy condition.

CHORUS. Father, thou speakest wisely: nor unwisely Thy words would we receive, in memory's ward Storing thy hests; ancestral Jove be witness!

DANAUS. Even so; and with benignant eye look down![n14]

CHORUS. * * * *

DANAUS. Delay not. In performance show thy strength.

CHORUS. Even there where thou dost sit, I'd sit beside thee!

DANAUS. O Jove show pity ere pity come too late!

CHORUS. Jove willing, all is well.

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DANAUS. Him, therefore, pray, There where his bird the altar decorates:[n15] pray Apollo, too, the pure, the exiled once[n16] From bright Olympus.

CHORUS. The sun's restoring rays We pray: the god what fate he knew will pity.

DANAUS. May he with pity and with aid be near!

CHORUS. Whom next shall I invoke?

DANAUS. Thou see'st this trident And know'st of whom the symbol?

CHORUS. May the same That sent us hither kindly now receive us!

DANAUS. Here's Hermes likewise, as Greece knows the god.[n17]

CHORUS. Be he my herald, heralding the free!

DANAUS. This common altar of these mighty gods Adore: within these holy precincts lodged, Pure doves from hawks of kindred plumage fleeing, Foes of your blood, polluters of your race. Can bird eat bird and be an holy thing?[n18] Can man be pure, from an unwilling father Robbing unwilling brides? Who does these deeds Will find no refuge from lewd guilt in Hades; For there, as we have heard, another Jove Holds final judgment on the guilty shades. But now be ready. Here await their coming; May the gods grant a victory to our prayers!

[_Enter_ KING.

KING. Whom speak we here? Whence come? Certes no Greeks. Your tire rich-flaunting with barbaric pride Bespeaks you strangers. Argos knows you not, Nor any part of Greece. Strange surely 'tis That all unheralded, unattended all, And of no host the acknowledged guest, unfearing Ye tread this land.[n19] If these boughs, woolly-wreathed, That grace the altars of the Agonian gods Speak what to Greeks they should speak, ye are suppliants. Thus much I see: what more remains to guess I spare; yourselves have tongues to speak the truth.

CHORUS. That we are strangers is most true; but whom See we in thee? a citizen? a priest? A temple warder with his sacred wand? The ruler of the state?

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KING. Speak with a fearless tongue, and plainly. I Of old earth-born Palæcthon am the son,[n20] My name Pelasgus, ruler of this land; And fathered with my name the men who reap Earth's fruits beneath my sway are called Pelasgi; And all the land where Algos flows, and Strymon,[n21] Toward the westering sun my sceptre holds. My kingdom the Perrhæbians bound, and those Beyond high Pindus, by Pæonia, and The Dodonéan heights; the briny wave Completes the circling line; within these bounds I rule; but here, where now thy foot is planted, The land is Apia, from a wise physician Of hoary date so called. He, from Naupactus, Apollo's son, by double right, physician And prophet both,[n22] crossed to this coast, and freed it By holy purifyings, from the plague Of man-destroying monsters, which the ground With ancient taint of blood polluted bore. This plague his virtue medicinal healed, That we no more unfriendly fellowship Hold with the dragon-brood. Such worthy service With thankful heart the Argive land received, And Apis lives remembered in her prayers. Of this from me assured, now let me hear Your whence, and what your purpose. Briefly speak; This people hates much phrase.

CHORUS. Our tale is short. We by descent are Argives, from the seed Of the heifer sprung, whose womb was blest in bearing; And this in every word we can confirm By manifest proofs.

KING. That ye are Argives, this My ear receives not; an unlikely tale! Like Libyan women rather; not a line I trace in you that marks our native race. Nile might produce such daughters; ye do bear A Cyprian character in your female features, The impressed likeness of some plastic male.[f12] Of wandering Indians I have heard, that harness Camels for mules, huge-striding, dwelling near The swarthy Æthiop land; ye may be such; Or, had ye war's accoutrement, the bow, {228} Ye might be Amazons, stern, husband-hating, Flesh-eating maids. But speak, that I may know The truth. How vouch ye your descent from Argos?

CHORUS. They say that Io, on this Argive ground, Erst bore the keys to Hera,[n23] then 'tis said, So runs the general rumour--[n24]

KING. I have heard. Was it not so, Jove with the mortal maid Mingled in love?

CHORUS. Even so; in love they mingled, Deceiving Hera's bed.

KING. And how then ended The Olympian strife?

CHORUS. Enraged, the Argive goddess To a heifer changed the maid.

KING. And the god came To the fair horned heifer?

CHORUS. Like a leaping bull, Transformed he came;[n25] so the hoar legend tells.

KING. And what did then the potent spouse of Jove?

CHORUS. She sent a watchman ringed with eyes to watch.

KING. This all-beholding herdsman, who was he?

CHORUS. Argus the son of Earth, by Hermes slain.

KING. How further fared the ill-fated heifer, say?

CHORUS. A persecuting brize was sent to sting her.

KING. And o'er the wide earth goaded her the brize?

CHORUS. Just so; thy tale with mine accordant chimes.

KING. Then to Canopus, and to Memphis came she?

CHORUS. There, touched by Jove's boon hand, she bore a son.

KING. The heifer's boasted offspring, who was he?

CHORUS. Epaphus, who plainly with his name declares His mother's safety wrought by touch of Jove.

KING. * * * *[n26]

CHORUS. Libya, dowered with a fair land's goodly name.

KING. And from this root divine what other shoots?

CHORUS. Belus, my father's father, and my uncle's.

KING. Who is thy honoured father?

CHORUS. Danaus; And fifty sons his brother hath, my uncle.

KING. This brother who? Spare not to tell the whole.

CHORUS. Ægyptus. Now, O king, our ancient race Thou knowest. Us from our prostration raising, Thou raisest Argos.

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KING. Argives in sooth ye seem, By old descent participant of the soil; But by what stroke of sore mischance harsh-smitten, Dared ye to wander from your native seats?

CHORUS. Pelasgian prince, a motley-threaded web Is human woe; a wing of dappled plumes. Past hope and faith it was that we, whose blood From Argive Io flows, to Io's city, In startled flight, should measure back our way, To escape from hated marriage.

KING. How say'st thou? To escape from marriage thou art here, displaying These fresh-cropt branches, snowy-wreathed, before The Agonian gods?

CHORUS. Ay! Never, never may we Be thralled to Ægyptus' sons!

KING. Speak'st thou of hate To them, or of a bond your laws forbid?

CHORUS. Both this and that.[n27] Who should be friends were foes, And blood with blood near-mingled basely flows.

KING. But branch on branch well grafted goodlier grows.

CHORUS. Urge not this point; but rather think one word From thee the wretched rescues.

KING. How then shall I My friendly disposition show?

CHORUS. We ask But this--from our pursuers save us.

KING. What! Shall I for unknown exiles breed a war?

CHORUS. Justice will fight for him who fights for us.

KING. Doubtless; if Justice from the first hath stamped Your cause for hers.

CHORUS. (_pointing to the altar_) The state's high poop here crowned Revere.

KING. This green environment of shade, Mantling the seats of the gods I see, and shudder.

CHORUS. The wrath of suppliant Jove[n28] is hard to bear.

STROPHE I.
O hear my cry, benignly hear!
Thou son of Palæcthon, hear me!
The fugitive wandering suppliant hear!
Thou king of Pelasgians, hear me!
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Like a heifer young by the wolf pursued[n29]
O'er the rocks so cliffy and lonely,
And loudly it lows to the herdsman good,
Whose strength can save it only.

KING. My eyes are tasked; there, 'neath the shielding shade Of fresh-lopt branches I behold you clinging To these Agonian gods; but what I do Must spare the state from harm. I must provide That no unlooked-for unprepared event Beget new strife; of this we have enough.

ANTISTROPHE I.
CHORUS.
Great Jove that allotteth their lot to all,
By his sentence of right shall clear thee,
Dread Themis that heareth the suppliants' call,
No harm shall allow to come near thee.
Though I speak to the old with the voice of the young,
Do the will of the gods, and surely
Their favour to thee justly weighed shall belong,
When thy gifts thou offerest purely.

KING. Not at my hearth with precatory boughs Ye lie. The state, if guilty taint from you Affect the general weal, will for the state Take counsel. I nor pledge nor promise give, Till all the citizens hear what thou shalt say.

STROPHE II.
CHORUS.
Thou art the state, and the people art thou,[n30]
The deed that thou doest who judges?
The hearth and the altar before thee bow,
The grace that thou grantest who grudges?
Thou noddest; the will that thou willest is thine,
Thy vote with no voter thou sharest;
The throne is all thine, and the sceptre divine,
And thy guilt, when thou sinnest, thou bearest.

KING. Guilt lie on those that hate me! but your prayers Harmless I may not hear; and to reject them Were harsh. To do, and not to do alike Perplex me; on the edge of choice I tremble.

ANTISTROPHE II.
CHORUS.
Him worship who sitteth a watchman in Heaven,
And looks on this life of our labour;
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Nor looketh in vain, when the wretched is driven
From the gate of his pitiless neighbour.
On our knees when we fall, and for mercy we call,
If his right thou deny to the stranger,
Jove shall look on thy home, from his thunder dome,
Sternly wrathful, the suppliants' avenger.

KING. But if Ægyptus' sons shall claim you, pleading Their country's laws, and their near kinship, who Shall dare to stand respondent? You must plead Your native laws, so the laws plead for you, And speak you free from who would force your love.

STROPHE III.
CHORUS.
Ah ne'er to the rough-handed youth let me yield,
But rather alone, 'neath the wide starry field,
Let me wander, an outcast, a stranger!
The ill-sorted yoke I abhor: and do thou,
With Justice to second thee, judge for me now,
And fear Him above, the Avenger!

KING. Not I shall judge: it is no easy judgment. What I have said, I said. Without the people I cannot do this thing;[n31] being absolute king, I would not. Justly, if mischance shall follow, The popular tongue will blame the ruler, who, To save the stranger, ruined his own flock.

ANTISTROPHE III.
CHORUS.
Where kindred with kindred contendeth in war,
Jove looks on the strife, and decides from afar,
Where he holdeth the scales even-handed;[f13]
O why wilt thou doubt to declare for the right?
He blesseth the good, but in anger will smite,
Where the sons of the wicked are banded.

KING. To advise for you in such confounding depths, My soul should be a diver, to plunge down Far in the pool profound with seeing eye, And feel no dizziness. 'Tis no light matter Here to unite your safety and the state's. If that your kindred claim you as their right, And we withstand, a bloody strife ensues. If from these altars of the gods we tear you, Your chosen refuge, we shall surely bring {232} The all-destroying god, the stern Alastor,[f14] To house with us, whom not the dead in Hades Can flee. Is here no cause to ponder well?

STROPHE I.
CHORUS.
Ponder well;
With thee to dwell,
A righteous-minded host receive us!
Weary-worn,
Exiles lorn,
From the godless men that grieve us
Save to-day;
Nor cast-a-way
Homeless, houseless, hopeless leave us!

ANTISTROPHE I.
Shall rash assaulters
From these altars
Rudely drag the friendless stranger?
Thou art king,
'Neath thy wing
Cowers in vain the weak from danger?
Thy terror show
To our fierce foe,
Fear, O fear our High Avenger!

STROPHE II.
Where they see
The gods and thee,
Shall their lawless will not falter?
Shall they tear
My floating hair,
As a horse dragged by the halter?
Wilt thou bear
Him to tear
My frontlets fair,
My linen robes--the bold assaulter?

ANTISTROPHE II.
One the danger,
If the stranger
Thou reject, or welcome wisely:
For thee and thine
To Mars a fine
{233}
Thou shalt pay the same precisely:
From Egypt far
Fearing war,
Thou shalt mar
Thy peace with mighty Jove, not wisely.

KING. Both ways I'm marred. Even here my wits are stranded. With these or those harsh war to make, strong Force Compels my will. Nailed am I like a vessel Screwed to the dock, beneath the shipwright's tool. Which way I turn is woe. A plundered house By grace of possessory Jove[n32] may freight New ships with bales that far outweigh the loss; And a rash tongue that overshoots the mark With barbéd phrase that harshly frets the heart, With one smooth word, may charm the offence away. But ere the sluice of kindred blood be opened, With vows and victims we must pray the gods Importunate, if perchance such fateful harm They may avert. Myself were little wise To mingle in this strife: of such a war Most ignorant is most blest: but may the gods Deceive my fears, and crown your hopes with blessing!

CHORUS. Now hear the end of my respectful prayers.

KING. I hear. Speak on. Thy words shall not escape me.

CHORUS. Thou see'st this sash, this zone my stole begirding.

KING. Fit garniture of women. Yes; I see it.

CHORUS. This zone well-used may serve us well.

KING.
How so?

CHORUS. If thou refuse to pledge our safety, then--

KING. Thy zone shall pledge it how?

CHORUS. Thou shalt behold These ancient altars with new tablets hung.

KING. Thou speak'st in riddles. Explain.

CHORUS. These gods shall see me Here hanging from their shrines.

KING. Hush, maiden! Hush! Thy words pierce through my marrow!

CHORUS. Thou hast heard No blind enigma now. I gave it eyes.

KING. Alas! with vast environment of ills I'm hedged all round. Misfortune, like a sea, Comes rushing in: the deep unfathomed flood I fear to cross, and find no harbour nigh. {234} Thy prayer if I refuse, black horror rises Before me, that no highest-pointed aim May overshoot. If posted fore these walls I give thy kindred battle, I shall be Amerced with bitter loss, who reckless dared For woman's sake to incarnadine the plain With brave men's blood. Yet I perforce must fear The wrath of suppliant Jove, than which no terror Awes human hearts more strongly. Take these branches, Thou aged father of these maids, and place them On other altars of the native gods, Where they may speak, true heralds of thy mission, To all the citizens: and, mark me, keep My words within thy breast: for still the people To spy a fault in whoso bears authority Have a most subtle sight. Trust your good cause. Thy pitiful tale may move their righteous ire Against your haughty-hearted persecutors, And 'neath their wings they'll shield you. The afflicted Plead for themselves: their natural due is kindness.

DANAUS. Your worth we know to prize, and at their weight Our high protector's friendly words we value. But send, we pray, attendant guides to show us The pillar-compassed seats divine,[n33] the altars That stand before their temples, who protect This city and this land, and to insure Our safety mid the people: for our coming (Being strangers from the distant Nile, and not Like you that drink the stream of Inachus In features or in bearing) might seem strange. Too bold an air might rouse suspicion; men Oft-times have slain their best friends unawares.

KING. (_to the Attendants_) See him escorted well! conduct him hence To the altars of the city, to the shrines Of the protecting gods, wasting no speech On whom you meet. Attend the suppliant stranger!

[_Exeunt Attendants with_ DANAUS.

CHORUS. These words to him: and, with his sails well trimmed, Fair be his voyage! But I, what shall I do, My anchor where?

KING. Here leave these boughs that prove Thy sorrows.

{235}

CHORUS. Here at thy rever'd command I leave them.

KING. This ample wood shall shade thee; wait thou here!

CHORUS. No sacred grove is this: how should it shield me?

KING. We will not yield thee to the vultures' claws.

CHORUS. But worse than vultures, worse than dragons threat us.

KING. Gently. To fair words give a fair reply.

CHORUS. I'm terror-struck. Small marvel that I fret.

KING. Fear should be far, when I the king am near.[f15]

CHORUS. With kind words cheer me, and kind actions too.

KING. Thy father will return anon; meanwhile I go to call the assembly of the people,[n34] And in thy favour move them, if I can. Thy father, too, I'll aptly train, how he Should woo their favour. Wait ye here, and pray The native gods to crown your heart's desire. I go to speed the business; may Persuasion And Chance, with happy issue pregnant, guide me!

CHORAL HYMN.
STROPHE I.
King of all kings, high-blest above
Each blest celestial nature,
Strength of the strong, all-glorious Jove,
All crowning Consummator![n35]
Hear thou our prayer: the proud confound;
With hate pursue the hateful,
And plunge in purpling pools profound
The black-bench'd bark, the fateful!

ANTISTROPHE I.
Our ancient line from thee we trace
Our root divinely planted;
Look on these sisters with the grace
To that loved maid once granted,
Our mother Io; and renew
Sweet memory in the daughters
Of her thy gentle touch who knew
By Nile's deep-rolling waters.

STROPHE II.
Here, even here, where 'mid the browsing kine,
My Argive mother fed her eye divine,
With rich mead's flowery store,
{236}
My Libyan foot I've planted; hence by the brize[n36]
Divinely fretted with fitful oar she hies[n37]
From various shore to shore,
God-madded wanderer. Twice the billowy wave
She crossed; and twice her fated name she gave
To the wide sea's straitened roar.

ANTISTROPHE II.
Spurred through the Asian land with swiftest speed
She fled, where Phrygian flocks far-pasturing feed;
Then restless travelled o'er
Mysia, where Teuthras holds his fortress high,
Cilician and Pamphylian heights, and nigh
Where roaring waters pour
From fountains ever fresh their torrent floods,
And Aphrodite's land whose loamy roods
Swell with the wheaten store.[f16]

STROPHE III.
Thence by her wingéd keeper stung, she speeds
To the land divine, the many-nurturing meads,
And to the snow-fed stream,
Which like impetuous Typhon,[f17] vasty pours
Its purest waves, that the salubrious shores
From pestilent taint redeem.[f18]
Here from harsh Hera's madly-goading pest,
From hattering chase of undeserved unrest,
At length by the holy stream.

ANTISTROPHE III.
She rests. Pale terror smote their hearts who saw.
The unwonted sight beheld with startled awe
The thronging sons of Nile;
Nor dared to approach this thing of human face,[n38]
Portentous-mingled with the lowing race,
Treading the Libyan soil.
Who then was he, the brize-stung Io's friend,
With charms of soothing virtue strong to end
Her weary-wandering toil?

STROPHE IV.
Jove, mighty Jove, Heaven's everlasting king,
He soft-inspiring came,
{237}
And with fond force innocuous heals her ills;
She from her eyes in lucent drops distils
The stream of sorrowful shame,
And in her womb from Jove a burden bore,
A son of blameless fame,
Who with his prosperous life long blessed the Libyan shore.

ANTISTROPHE IV.
Far-pealed the land with jubilant shout--from Jove,
From Jove it surely came,
This living root of a far-branching line!
For who but Jove prevailed, with power divine,
Harsh Hera's wrath to tame?
Such the great work of Jove; and we are such,
O Jove, our race who claim
From him whose name declares the virtue of thy touch.

STROPHE V.
For whom more justly shall my hymn be chaunted
Than thee, above all gods that be, high-vaunted,
Root of my race, great Jove;
Prime moulder from whose plastic-touching hand
Life leaps: thine ancient-minded counsels stand,
Thou all-devising Jove.

ANTISTROPHE V.
High-throned above the highest as the lowest,
Beyond thee none, and mightier none thou knowest,
The unfearing, all-feared one.
When his deep thought takes counsel to fulfil,
No dull delays clog Jove's decided will;[n39]
He speaks, and it is done.

[_Enter_ DANAUS.

DANAUS. Be of good cheer, my daughters! All is well, The popular voice hath perfected our prayers.

CHORUS. Hail father, bearer of good news: but say, How was the matter stablished? and how far Prevailed the people's uplifted hands to save us?

DANAUS. Not doubtingly, but with a bold decision, That made my old heart young again to see't. With one acclaim, a forest of right hands Rose through the hurtled air. These Libyan exiles-- So ran the popular will--shall find a home {238} In Argos, free, and from each robber hand Inviolate, the native or the stranger; And, whoso holding Argive land refuses To shield these virgins from the threatened force, Disgrace shall brand him, and the popular vote Oust him from Argos. Such response the king Persuasive forced, with wise admonishment; Urging the wrath of Jove, which else provoked Would fatten on our woes, and the twin wrong To you the stranger, and to them the city, Pollution at their gate, a fuel to feed Ills without end. These words the Argive people Answered with suffragating hands, nor waited The herald's call to register their votes: Just eloquence ruled their willing ear, and Jove Crowned their fair purpose with the perfect deed. [_Exit._

CHORUS.
Come then, sisters, pour we freely
Grateful prayers for Argive kindness;
Jove, the stranger's friend, befriend us,
While from stranger's mouth sincerest
Here we voice the hymn;
To a blameless issue, surely,
Jove will guide the fate.

CHORAL HYMN.
STROPHE I.
Jove-born gods, benignly bending,
Look, we pray, with eyes befriending,
On these Argive halls!
Ne'er may Mars, the wanton daring,
With his shrill trump, joyless-blaring,
Wrap, in wild flames, fiercely flaring,
These Pelasgian walls!
Go! thy gory harvest reaping
Far from us: thy bloody weeping
Distant tribes may know.
Bless, O Jove, this Argive nation!
They have heard the supplication
Of thy suppliants low;
Where the swooping Fate abased us,
They with Mercy's vote upraised us
From the prostrate woe!

{239}

ANTISTROPHE I.
Not with the male, the stronger, erring,
But, woman's weaker cause preferring,
Stood their virtue proof:
Wisely Jove, the Avenger, fearing,
To the chastened eye appearing,
High his front of wrath up-rearing
'Gainst the guilty roof.
For heavily, heavily weighs the Alastor,
Scapeless, and, with sore disaster,
Sinks the sinner low.
Bless, O Jove, this Argive nation,
That knew their kindred's supplication,
And saved them from the foe:
And when their vows they pay, then surely
Gifts from clean hands offered purely
Thou in grace shalt know.

STROPHE II.
High these suppliant branches raising,
Sisters, ancient Argos praising,
Pour the grateful strain!
Far from thy Pelasgian portals
Dwell black Plague, from drooping mortals
Ebbing life to drain!
May'st thou see the crimson river
From fierce home-bred slaughter, never
Flowing o'er thy plain!
Far from thee the youth-consuming
Blossom-plucking strife!
The harsh spouse of Aphrodite,
Furious Mars in murder mighty,
Where he sees thy beauty blooming,
Spare his blood-smeared knife!

ANTISTROPHE II.
May a reverend priesthood hoary
Belt thy shrines, their chiefest glory,
With an holy band!
By the bountiful libation,
By the blazing pile, this nation
Shall securely stand.
Jove, the great All-ruler, fearing,
{240}
Jove, the stranger's stay, revering,
Ye shall save the land;
Jove, sure-throned above all cavil,
Rules by ancient right,
May just rulers never fail thee!
Holy Hecate's aid avail thee,[n40]
To thy mothers when in travail
Sending labours light!

STROPHE III.
May no wasting march of ruin
Work, O Argos, thine undoing!
Never may'st thou hear
Cries of Mars, the shrill, the lyreless!
Ne'er may tearful moans, and quireless,
Wake the sleeper's ear!
Far from thee the shapes black-trooping
Of disease, delightless-drooping!
May the blazing death-winged arrow
Of the Sun-god spare the marrow
Of thy children dear!

ANTISTROPHE III.
Mighty Jove, the gracious giver,
With his full-sheaved bounty ever
Crown the fruited year!
Flocks that graze before thy dwelling
With rich increase yearly swelling
The prosperous ploughman cheer!
May the gods no grace deny thee,
And the tuneful Muses nigh thee,
With exuberant raptures brimming,
From virgin throats thy praises hymning
Hold the charmèd ear!

STROPHE IV.
O'er the general weal presiding,
They that rule with far-providing
Wisdom sway, and stably-guiding,
Changeful counsels mar!
Timely with each foreign nation
Leagues of wise conciliation
Let them join, fierce wars avoiding,
From sharp losses far!

{241}

ANTISTROPHE IV.
The native gods, strong to deliver,
With blood of oxen free-poured ever,
With laurel-branches failing never,
Piously adore!
HONOUR THY PARENTS: spurn not lightly
This prime statute sanctioned rightly;
Cling to this, a holy liver,
Steadfast evermore!

[_Re-enter_ DANAUS.

DANAUS. Well hymned, my daughters! I commend your prayers; But brace your hearts, nor fear, though I, your father, Approach the bearer of unlooked-for news. For from this consecrated hold of gods I spy the ship; too gallantly it peers To cheat mine eye. The sinuous sail I see, The bulging fence-work on each side,[n41] the prow Fronted with eyes to track its watery way,[n42] True to the steerman's hint that sits behind, And with no friendly bearing. On the deck Appear the crew, their swarthy limbs more swart By snow-white vests revealed: a goodly line Of succour in the rear: but in the van The admiral ship, with low-furled sail makes way By the swift strokes of measured-beating oars. Wait calmly ye, and with well-counselled awe Cling to the gods; the while ye watch their coming, Myself will hence, and straight return with aid To champion our need.[n43] For I must look for Some herald or ambassador claiming you, Their rightful prey, forthwith; but fear ye not, Their harsh will may not be. This warning take Should we with help be slow, remain you here Nor leave these gods, your strength. Faint not: for surely Comes the appointed hour, and will not stay, When godless men to Jove just fine shall pay.

STROPHE I.
CHORUS.
Father, I tremble, lest the fleet-winged ships,
Ere thou return, shall land--soon--very soon!
O father, I tremble to stay, and not flee,
When the bands of the ruthless are near!
{242}
My flight to foreclose from the chase of my foes!
O father, I faint for fear!

DANAUS. Fear not, my children. The accomplished vote Of Argos saves you. They are champions sworn.

ANTISTROPHE I.
CHORUS.
They come--destruction's minions mad with hate,
Of fight insatiate: well thou know'st the men.
With their host many-counted, their ships dark-fronted,[n44]
They are near, O father, how near!
Their ships stoutly-timbered, their crews swarthy-membered,
Triumphant in wrath I fear!

DANAUS. Even let them come. They'll find their match in Argos; A strong-limbed race with noon-day sweats well hardened.[n45]

STROPHE II.
CHORUS.
Only not leave me! Pray thee, father, stay!
Weak is a lonely woman. No Mars is in her.[n46]
Dark-counselled, false, cunning-hearted are they,
Unholy, as obscene crows
On the feast of the altar that filthily prey;
They fear not the gods, my foes!

DANAUS. 'Twill make our cause the stronger, daughters, if Their crime be sacrilege, and their foes the gods.

ANTISTROPHE II.
CHORUS.
The trident and the sacred blazonry
Will not repel their violent hands, O father!
They are proud, haughty-hearted, a high-blown race;
They are hot, they are mad for the fray!
With the hound in their heart, and the dog in their face,
They will tear from the altar their prey.

DANAUS. Dogs let them be, the world has wolves to master them! And good Greek corn is better than papyrus.[n47]

CHORUS. Being reasonless as brutes, unholy monsters, And spurred with wrath we must beware their fury.

DANAUS. 'Tis no light work to land a fleet. To find Safe roads, sure anchorage, and to make fast The cables, this not with mere thought is done. The shepherds of the ships[n48] are slow to feel Full confidence, the more that on this coast Harbours are few.[n49] Besides, thou see'st the sun {243} Slants to the night; and still a prudent pilot Fears in the dark. No man will disembark, Trust me, till all are firmly anchored. Thou Through all thy terrors still cling to the gods, Thy most sure stay. Thy safety's pledged. For me I'm old, but with the tongue of fluent youth I'll speak for thee, a pleader without blame. [_Exit._

CHORAL HYMN. STROPHE I. O hilly land, high-honoured land, What wait we now, poor fugitive band? Some dark, dark cave Show me, within thy winding strand, To hide and save! Would I might vanish in smoke, ascending To Heaven, with Jove's light clouds dim-blending In misty air, Like wingless, viewless dust, and ending In nothing there!

ANTISTROPHE I. 'Tis more than heart may bear. Quick Fear My quaking life with dusky drear Alarm surroundeth! My father spied my ruin: sheer Despair confoundeth. Sooner, high-swung from fatal rope, Here may I end both life and hope, And strong Death bind me, Than hated hearts shall reach their scope, And shame shall find me!

STROPHE II. Would I were throned in ether high, Where snows are born, and through the sky The white rack skurries! Would that I Might sit sublime On a hanging cliff where lone winds sigh,[n50] Where human finger never showed The far-perched vultures' drear abode, Nor goat may climb! {244} Thence sheer to leap, and end for ever My life and name, Ere forceful hands this heart deliver To married shame!

ANTISTROPHE II. There, where no friendly foot may stray, There let me lie, my limbs a prey To dogs and birds: I not gainsay: 'Twas wisely said, Free from much woe who dies to-day Shall be to-morrow. Rather than wedded To whom I hate, let me be bedded Now with the dead! Or if there be, my life to free, A way, declare it, Ye gods!--a surgeon's cut for me, My heart shall bear it!

STROPHE III. Voice ye your sorrow! with the cry Of doleful litany pierce the sky! For freedom, for quick rescue cry To him above! Ruler of Earth, look from thy throne, With eyes of love! These deeds of violence wilt thou own, Nor know thy prostrate suppliant's groan, Almighty Jove?

ANTISTROPHE III. Ægyptus' sons, a haughty race, Follow my flight with sleepless chase, With whoop and bay they scent my trace To force my love. Thy beam is true; both good and ill Thy sure scales prove, Thou even-handed! Mortals still Reap fair fulfilment from thy will, All-crowning Jove.

[CHORUS, _in separate voices, and short hurried exclamations:_[n51]

VOICE 1.
Ah me! he lands! he leaps ashore!
He strides with ruffian hands to hale us!

{245}

VOICE 2.
Cry, sisters, cry! swift help implore!
If here to cry may aught avail us!

VOICE 3.
Ah me! 'tis but the muffled roar
Of forceful storms soon to assail us!

VOICE 1.
Flee to the gods! to the altars cling!

VOICE 2.
By sea, by land, the ruthless foe
Grimly wantons in our woe!

VOICE 3.
Beneath thy wing shield us, O king!

[_Enter_ HERALD.

HERALD. Hence to the ships! to the good ships fare ye![n52] Swiftly as your feet may bear ye!

CHORUS.
Tear us! tear us!
Rend us rather,
Torture and tear us!
From this body
Cut the head!
Gorily gather
Us to the dead!

HERALD. Hence to the ships, away! away! A curse on you, and your delay! O'er the briny billowy way Thou shalt go to-day, to-day! Wilt thou stand, a mulish striver, I can spur, a forceful driver; Deftly, deftly, thou shalt trip To the stoutly-timbered ship! If to yield thou wilt not know, Gorily, gorily thou shalt go! An' thou be not madded wholly, Know thy state, and quit thy folly!

CHORUS. Help, ho! help, ho! help!

HERALD. To the ships! to the ships away with me! These gods of Argos what reck we?

CHORUS.
Never, O never
The nurturing river,
Of life the giver,
The healthful flood
That quickens the blood
Let me behold!
An Argive am I,[f19]
From Inachus old,
These gods deny
Thy claim. Withhold!

{246}

HERALD. To the ships, to the ships, with march not slow, Will ye, nill ye, ye must go! Quickly, quickly, hence away! Know thy master and obey! Ere a worse thing thou shalt know-- Blows and beating--gently go!

STROPHE I.
CHORUS.
Worse than worsest
May'st thou know!
As thou cursest,
Curst be so!
The briny billow
O'er thee flow!
On sandy pillow
Bedded low,
'Neath Sarpedon's breezy brow,[f20]
With the shifting sands shift thou!

HERALD. Scream--rend your robes in rags!--call on the gods! The Egyptian bark thou shalt not overleap. Pour ye the bitter bootless wail at will!

ANTISTROPHE I.
CHORUS.
With fierce heart swelling
To work my woe,
With keen hate yelling
Barks the foe.
Broad Nile welling
O'er thee flow!
Find thy dwelling
Bedded low,
'Neath the towering Libyan waters,
Towering thou 'gainst Libya's daughters!

HERALD. To the ships! to the ships! the swift ships even-oared! Quickly! no laggard shifts! the hand that drags thee Will lord it o'er thy locks, not gently handled!

STROPHE II.
CHORUS.
O father, oh!
From the altar
The assaulter
Drags me to my woe!
Step by step, a torturing guider,
Like the slowly-dragging spider,
{247}
Cruel-minded so!
Like a dream,
A dusky dream,
My hope away doth go!
O Earth, O Earth,
From death redeem!
O Earth, O Jove deliver!

HERALD. Your Argive gods I know not; they nor nursed My infant life, nor reared my riper age.

ANTISTROPHE II.
CHORUS.
O father, oh!
From the altar
The assaulter
Drags me to my woe!
A snake two-footed fiercely fretted
Swells beside me! from his whetted
Fangs, black death doth flow!
Like a dream,
A dusky dream,
My hope is vanished so!
O Earth, O Earth,
From death redeem!
O Earth, O Jove deliver!

HERALD. To the ships! to the ships! Obey! I say, obey! Pity thy robes, if not thy flesh--away!

STROPHE III.
CHORUS.
Ye chiefs of the city,
By force they subdue me!

HERALD. Well! I must drag thee by the hair! come! come! Point thy dull ears, and hear me!--come! come! come!

ANTISTROPHE III.
CHORUS.
I'm lost! I'm ruined!
O king, they undo me!

HERALD. Thou shalt see kings enough anon, believe me, Ægyptus' sons--kingless thou shalt not die.

[_Enter_ KING _with Attendants._

KING. Fellow, what wouldst thou? With what purpose here Dost flout this land of brave Pelasgian men? Deem'st thou us women? A barbarian truly Art thou, if o'er the Greek to sport it thus {248} The fancy tempts thee. Nay, but thou art wrong Both root and branch in this.

HERALD.
How wrong? Speak plainly.

KING. Thou art a stranger here, and dost not know As a stranger how to bear thee.

HERALD. This I know, I lost my own, and what I lost I found.

KING. Thy patrons[f21] who, on this Pelasgian ground?

HERALD. To find stray goods the world all over, Hermes Is prince of patrons.[n53]

KING. Hermes is a god, Thou, therefore, fear the gods.

HERALD. And I do fear The gods of the Nile.

KING.
We too have gods in Argos.