CONTENTS

Foreword by Ben Potter

The Tumultuous Tale of Heracles and Hera by Anya Leonard

The Twelve Labours of Heracles by Ben Potter

Euripides' Alcestis (Excerpt with Introduction)

Euripides' Heracles (Complete Text with Introduction)

Sophocles' Women of Trachis (Complete Text with Introduction)

Euripides' Children of Heracles (Complete Text With Introduction)

Sophocles' Philoctetes (Excerpt with Introduction)

FOREWORD

“Oh yeah, I love the classics, too. Dickens, Dumas, Austen, Orwell...”

“No, when I said I'm into Classics I meant...”

“...Hemingway, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, Flaubert.”

“No, no, no! Not 'the classics'... 'Classics'.”

“Well, what's the difference?”

“Well Classics is all about Odysseus, Augustus and Alexander...”

*blank stare*

“...you know: Pericles, Poseidon, Plutarch, Plato...”

*blank stare*

“...you knoooow: Jason and Medea, Scylla and Charybdis.

*blank stare*

“...ummm... you know... Hercules.”

“Ah, Hercules! Why didn't you say?”

Okay, perhaps the above back and forth does indulge in a bit of dramatic licence, but it's not a million miles away from a real conversation I once had with a non-classicist (I was almost tempted to say 'with a Muggle', but with my surname I wouldn't dare).

The point remains that Hercules (or 'Heracles' if your classical compass points towards Athens rather than Rome) does seem to be some sort of gateway drug into the Classics. He's the link between those of us who think a symposium is a ritualised drinking party filled with witty badinage and musically talented prostitutes and those who think it's a conference attended by serious and sober-minded individuals.

The obvious question is: why?

Why, with such a pantheon of interesting gods, heroes, artists, warriors, historians, playwrights, poets, architects, engineers, philosophers and mathematicians to choose from is the Heracles brand so instantly and enthusiastically recognized by the uninitiated?

Well some might say popular culture, specifically cinema, is at the root of this Herculean love-in. 19 Italian 'Sword and Sandals' films were produced in the 50's and 60's in which Hercules was played by a variety of actors including perennial Tarzan, Gordon Scott and husband of Jayne Mansfield, Mickey Hargitay. Since then other illustrious strongmen to incarnate the renowned demi-god include Lou Ferrigno, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson. And let's not forget the 1997 Disney animated classic that put Hercules up there with Peter Pan, Snow White and Simba in the consciousness of wide-eyed kids everywhere.

However, it seems unlikely that Hollywood had an agenda to promote Hercules to this... well, Herculean, extent. No, here we're putting the horse before the cart. Cinema (and Renaissance art before it) used Heracles because he is, quite simply, the most captivating and evocative of all the ancient heroes.

Though he's generally considered to be hero no.1 we can argue the toss about who was the greatest – Jason, Theseus, Perseus, Achilles, Aeneas and Odysseus all make strong cases – but Heracles is a simple hero to get his head around because he was such a... well, simple hero. Whilst Perseus was sneakily looking at Medusa in the mirror, Odysseus was weaving his webs of deceit and Achilles was downing tools and pouting because his boss was being a jerk, big, strong, brave, drunken, fornicating Heracles was plodding his way through his labours with a Scooby Doo attitude towards food, a Tyrion Lannister attitude towards sex and alcohol, and a 'Hulk smash' attitude towards his enemies.

His endurance through the 12 labours, his cruel persecution at the hands of Hera, and his bulging biceps with their honest strength make him an old-fashioned “man's man” of a hero - a strong, silent type; more Clint Eastwood than Robert Redford, more Daniel Craig than Pierce Brosnan.

Heracles' straight-shooting personality compliments his easily-digestible and unambiguous labours. These 12 tasks are excellent and exciting nuggets of wonder for adults to enjoy and for children to absorb, rank in preference and re-enact at playtime. They also make excellent fodder for parody (see the excellent The Twelve Task of Asterix – Gosciny/Uderzo).

It is perhaps ironic that, despite Heracles™ being the most ubiquitous of all the mythological characters, he is not one that is best known or most loved among many Classicists. Perhaps this is because, unlike Odysseus and Aeneas, he doesn't have a long-form epic poem to his name... or, maybe, because representations of him in art like on the metopes on the Temple of Zeus at Olympia are fragmentary and therefore pale in comparison to, say, the metopes of the Lapiths and Centaurs from the Parthenon.

Or, dare I say it, there is more than a little bit of snobbery in the air. “People who haven't spent hours and hours pouring over the dull bits of the Iliad or the dull bits of Caesar's Bellum Gallicum (i.e. all of it), those people have heard of and like Heracles. Therefore, Heracles is obviously not as good as all the heroes that I've heard about who they haven't”. I'd like to think there's no accuracy in that idea, but I'm really not so sure.

Perhaps Heracles being your favourite hero is just too obvious an answer; like saying The Beatles are your favourite band or pizza is your favourite food.

Whatever the reason, if there is a sense that Heracles doesn't cut the intellectual mustard, then it's not an entirely fair one. So today we'd like to show you that Heracles is much more than just a perfectly-chiselled torso. And that, via many meandering rivulets and tributaries, brings us to the content of this ebook: Heracles in Athenian theatre.

There is other Heraclean source material out there – he crops up in the works of such distinguished writers as Homer, Hesiod and Ovid – however it his theatrical canon that make the most fascinating, and most under-appreciated, compendium.

In this anthology we'll bring you three complete Greek tragedies, half of another, and the short extract of a fifth. These will be presented chronologically in terms of the life of Heracles rather than in the order in which they were first performed.

We begin with half of the Alcestis of Euripides which takes place while Heracles is on his way to perform his eighth labour: taming the man-eating horses of Diomedes of Thrace. Here we see the two sides to Heracles' character: immense strength, courage and loyalty to his friends on the one hand, and gluttony, drunkenness and boorishness on the other.

This is followed by Euripides' Heracles which is set at the culmination of the eponymous hero's final labour: bringing the three-headed hellhound Cerberus up from the underworld.

Then we have the Women of Trachis by Sophocles. This deals with Heracles' tragic death.

The following play doesn't actually feature Heracles at all, but is absolutely essential to rounding off his myth and establishing his legacy. It is, of course, the Children of Heracles by Euripides.

Finally, we end with a brief gobbet from the conclusion of Sophocles' Philoctetes in which Heracles comes to us in the guise of god... And not merely any old god, but that most exclusive of literary gods that a hard-working deity has to tread the boards for years to become: a deus ex machina.

More information about each play will be given in their introductions.

I sincerely hope that you gain as much pleasure from reading these works as I did from revisiting them.

Enjoy!

Ben Potter

May 2019

The Tumultuous Tale of Heracles and Hera

Heracles and Hera had a difficult relationship. In fact, the queen of the Gods tremendously hated the half-man known for his strength and hero status, and really went out her way to make his life as difficult as possible. Snubbing Heracles publicly would just not do… Hera wanted to make him suffer.

It all started before Heracles (Hercules in Latin) was born. The bastard was the result of one of Zeus’ many affairs, this time with a mortal woman named Alcmene. The God of the sky disguised himself as this poor woman’s husband in order to make love to her and consequently impregnate her. In fact, her actual groom came home later that night, and Alcmene also became pregnant with his son at the same time. (It was technically a case of heteropaternal superfecundation, where a woman carries twins sired by different fathers.)

Zeus’ adultery was the sole reason for Hera’s unending wrath against the unfortunate Heracles.

Hera did everything she could to stop Heracles and his brother from even existing. She forced Ilithyia, goddess of childbirth, to sit cross-legged, with knotted clothing to hinder their very entry into the world. Hera might have permanently denied the children’s lives if the mother’s servant hadn’t fooled the Goddess of childbirth. The quick-witted help convinced Ilithyia that the babies had already been born. Seeing her task as pointless, the goddess jumped up, undid the knots and allowed the birth of the twins to proceed.

After this, Heracles’ mother was worried about Hera… she might enact revenge. So Alcmene exposed her half-god child, who was taken up by Athena to see Hera. Zeus’ wife did not recognise her mini-mortal enemy and inadvertently nursed him out of pity. The super strong infant, however, suckled so intensely that Hera pushed him away due to pain. Her milk then sprayed across the sky, forming the Milky Way. Heracles, meanwhile, acquired supernatural powers from the divine milk and was returned to his mother.

Despite her accidental gift, Hera was still on the warpath. She sent down two enormous serpents to the babies’ crib so she might be rid of them. Unlike his twin brother, Heracles was not afraid, and grabbed the reptiles. His parents found him happily babbling away in baby gibberish, holding the strangled snakes as if they were toys. Heracles’ strength, and partial divinity, was confirmed by the act.

The young boy then grew into a huge, powerful and courageous man that legends are made of. Sure, he killed his music teacher with a lyre, but overall he was destined for greatness. He was prophesied an unusual future, full of vanquishing monsters and making myths.

Heracles then moved to Thebes where he married King Creon's daughter, Megara and started a family. Unfortunately at this moment Hera stepped back into Heracles’ life. She drove him so mad that he murdered all of his children, and maybe even his wife as well. After being cured of his temporary insanity, he fled to the Oracle of Delphi to search for a way to expiate his sins.

Even this attempt was foiled by his archenemy who guided the oracle to punish Heracles further. He was ordered to serve King Eurystheus, a man he knew was lesser than him, and do whatever was asked of him for the following ten years. It was during this time that Heracles completed his famous twelve labours. He was actually only suppose to do ten, but King Eurystheus cheated him into doing two more. Apparently a few of his miraculous, monster killing acts were not up to scratch because he either received money or help.

Once Heracles was purged of infanticide, he joined a superhero group called the Argonauts. They searched for the Golden Fleece, conquered Troy, fought against the Gigantes and of course, rescued heroines. During one such escapade, Heracles fell in love with Princess Iole of Oechalia, an ancient Greek city. In legend-like fashion, her father, King Eurytus, promised his daughter to whomever could win an archery competition against his sons. Heracles promptly triumphed, but the King did not fulfil his promise of giving away his daughter. Instead King Eurytus and all his sons, except one named Iphitus, spurned Heracles. The demi-god then proceeded to kill them all… except Iphitus, who became his best friend.

Enter heartless Hera once more.

She again drove Heracles mad and this time the hefty beast of man threw his greatest pal, Iphitus, over the city wall to his death. And just like the last time, Heracles submitted to servitude as penalty for the killing.

The epitome of all things masculine, Heracles then spent the next three years doing women’s work in women’s clothes. His new master, Queen Omphale of Lydia (modern day Turkey), completed the farce by donning Heracles’ iconic club and lion skin garb. Eventually the queen freed Heracles and married him.

Over the years, Heracles continued to have extraordinary adventures. He rescued poor Prometheus from a vulture that ate his liver every day. He killed countless beasts, dragons and monsters. He had a drinking contest with Dionysus and lost. He founded a new nation in Scythia by having relations with a half-woman, half-snake.

In addition to all the warring, Heracles managed to have endless affairs with women and men, fathering countless children and heirs, and thereby passing on his strength and partial divinity. Kings for ages on would boast lineage from the demigod.

Eventually though, these extramarital affairs were the end of Heracles.

It all happened when Heracles and his third wife, Deianira, tried to cross a river. A centaur named Nessus offered to help the young lady, but then tried to take advantage of her while Heracles was on shore. The mighty warrior was not pleased and swiftly shot the deceitful centaur with a poisoned arrow.

As Nessus lay dying, however, he plotted his revenge. He told Heracles’ wife that she should gather up his blood and spilled semen in order to prevent her husband from being unfaithful. All she had to do was apply his (poisoned) fluids to Heracles’ clothes.

Eventually when Deianira suspected that Heracles was enamored with Iole (the one with the dishonest father), she inadvertently followed through with Nessus’ lethal plan. She soaked Heracles’ clothes in the blood and gave the item to his servant to deliver to him. Heracles put it on and was immediately in torment. The poison burned the flesh from his bones. Heracles then chose to die on a pyre to end his suffering.

After the flames ate away at his mortal body, all that remained was an immortal and divine entity. He then became a full god, joined his father on Mount Olympus and married his fourth and final wife, Hebe.

Heracles was then living upstairs, on the mountaintop, with Hera, the goddess who unsuccessfully tried to kill and torture him. Her Herculean efforts to ruin him all failed and in the end Heracles was killed by the trait that Hera hated so much…. Infidelity.

The Twelve Labours of Heracles

Though the story of Heracles and his labours is perhaps as famous as any in the classical, or indeed the modern, world, very few can effortlessly reel off the list without a stutter. Therefore, please find below a potted account of Heracles' famous struggles. Though, firstly, it is perhaps expedient to explain why Heracles went on this penitent pilgrimage in the first place.

Heracles is traditionally thought to have undergone his labours because the Delphic Oracle told him that the only way of cleansing his soul following the murder of his wife and children (i.e. the topic of the Heracles) would be to abase himself in front of the king of Tiryns, Eurystheus – who in turn (with the help of the goddess Hera) sent him gallivanting around Greece doing a bunch peculiar and impossible tasks.

The fact that in Euripides' Heracles – the play in which he murders his wife and children – our hero has already completed his final labour might seem at best, confusing, and at worst the work of a hack. However, these tweakings and twistings of conventional stories was perfectly normal and, presumably, totally acceptable within the parameters of Greek theatre. As much as we might cry 'foul' if a new Lord of the Rings story portrayed Frodo as a drunken gambler and womaniser, such an innovation would not have been a problem for an Athenian audience.

Anyway, leaving that aside, just what were Heracles' twelve great labours?

1. Slaying the Nemean lion which had been terrorizing local townsfolk and taking hostage within its cave archetypal damsels in distress. As Heracles' never-failing arrows could not puncture the lion's thick hide, the hero was forced to wrestle and beat the beast to death with his club and bare hands. This being the first labour explains why Heracles is always depicted draped in the hide of the lion and brandishing a stout club.

2. Slaying the Lernaean Hydra; this was a ferocious and seemingly indestructible creature that Hera had raised from the bowels of the earth for the soul purpose of killing Heracles. The problem of trying to kill this many-headed monster was that whenever Heracles chopped one of its heads off, two more sprouted in its stead. Heracles solved this problem by having his nephew, Iolaus, cauterize each bloody stump before the new heads had time to sprout. With the Hydra finally defeated, Heracles tipped his unswerving arrows with the creature's poisonous blood – as he would later come to regret (see Women of Trachis).

3. Capturing the Ceryneian Hind. As Heracles seemed unusually adept at slaying, Eurystheus and Hera decided a test of Heracles' speed might be a task more fit for failure. Heracles chased the hind for a whole year across Greece before finally capturing it. This, though, fell in line with Eurystheus' plans. As he knew the hind was sacred to the goddess Artemis, he presumed she would punish Heracles for his impiety. After pleading his case and explaining all the facts, Artemis forgave Heracles his transgression on the proviso that he returned the hind once he had shown it to Eurystheus.

4. Capturing the Erymanthian Boar was a relatively straightforward task by Heracles' standards. All he had to do was drive it into the snow upon which the boar was at a territorial disadvantage. The drama of the labour comes from the troubles he encountered on his way there i.e. being attacked by a gang of centaurs, which he had to kill using the Hydra-poisoned arrows.

5. Cleaning the Augean stables hardly seemed a task worthy of a great hero, and indeed, this was the whole point. Eurystheus thought mucking out manure would be a humiliating and degrading chore for a man who so far had only enhanced his own reputation through his great deeds. That said, it was still a nigh-on impossible project as the stables hadn't been cleaned in thirty years and contained over 1000 divinely robust cattle. Instead of spending the rest of his life shovelling ordure, Heracles 'simply' rerouted two rivers to wash through the stables and do the dirty work for him.

6. Defeating the Stymphalian birds. These metallic, man-eating birds who could shoot their steely feathers and had toxic droppings had been terrorizing the local countryside. Heracles killed as many as he could with his arrows. The rest took flight, but would re-enter the world of Greek heroes in their encounter with Jason and the Argonauts (of which Heracles was one).

7. Capturing the Cretan bull, though one of the most iconic labours, was one with the fewest segues. Heracles simply went up behind the beast and throttled it to within an inch of its life before presenting it to Eurystheus.

8. Taming the Mares of Diomedes. These wild, man-eating (possibly fire-breathing) horses ate one of Heracles' entourage. In revenge, Heracles fed Diomedes to his own horses before binding their mouths and bringing them, now tamed, back to Eurystheus. It is this labour that Heracles is on his way to perform when he makes his appearance in the Alcestis.

9. Retrieving the belt of Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons, for Eurystheus' daughter was next on the list of impossible undertakings. That said, despite getting involved in several battles on his way to Themsicyra, the home of the Amazons, all looked to be going smoothly for Heracles. Hippolyta was charmed by the tale of our hero's exploits and agreed to freely and willingly hand over the belt. The problem came when Hera, always looking to cause trouble for Heracles, spread gossip amongst the townsfolk that Heracles was looking to kidnap their queen. These warrior women came on horseback to confront Heracles who, naturally, concluded that Hippolyta had betrayed him. At this point he promptly killed the queen, stole her belt and returned with it to Eurystheus.

10. Retrieving the cattle of Geryon was probably Heracles' most laborious labour. First of all, Geryon lived in Erytheia (probably south-west Spain) and, when crossing the Libyan Desert to get there, Heracles became so delirious that he shot an arrow up at the punishing sun. This, for some reason, convinced the sun god Helios to aid the suffering hero on his way across the desert. Upon arrival at Erytheia, Heracles was attacked by, and slew, a two-headed dog before being confronted by the three-headed (some say three-bodied) giant Geryon whom Heracles promptly dispatched with an arrow through the head. Herding the cattle back to Greece, Hera managed to sting the beasts with a gadfly thus causing them to scatter – it took Heracles a full year to round them up again. She then sent a flood to make a river in Heracles' path impassable meaning he had to hurl stones into it until it was shallow enough to cross.

11. Stealing the Golden Apples of the Hesperides was the first of two 'bonus' labours that Heracles had to perform. Though he was only scheduled to perform ten tasks, Eurystheus ruled that killing the Hydra didn't count because Heracles had received help from his nephew, and cleaning the stables didn't either because he had been paid for his services (or, alternately, because the rivers had done all the hard work).

In order to obtain the Golden Apples, Heracles sought out the mighty Atlas – the titan who holds up the heavens on his shoulders. Atlas, being the father of the Hesperides, was free to enter their sacred garden and retrieve the golden apples.  While Atlas was busy about this task, Heracles held up the heavens in his stead (which, in terms of brute strength, is more impressive than any of his other duties).

However, Atlas, free from his eternal toil, refused to retake his place as supporter of the heavens. Heracles with a resigned shrug asked if, before he continued this never-ending and torturous task, Atlas wouldn't mind taking the heavens for just a second while Heracles adjusted his clothes into a more comfortable position. Atlas agreed, took the heavens upon his broad shoulders, at which point Heracles – presumably with a 'ner-ner-ner-ner-ner' – picked up the apples and sped his merry way back to Eurystheus.

12. Capturing Cerberus is last, but by no means least, on the list of impossible tasks set Heracles. As if taming a ferocious three-headed dog with his bare hands wasn't enough, the fact that he literally had to go to hell and back to do so is impressive in the extreme. As with all his tasks, Heracles brought proof of his deeds back to Eurystheus who, whenever a dangerous beast was brought before him by Heracles, hid in a large pithos (vase). Peering over the rim of the pithos and eyeing Cerberus, Eurystheus was so scared that he told Heracles he would release him from his obligations if he immediately returned the hound to the halls of Hades. It is at this point, at the conclusion of his labours that the Women of Trachis begins.

ALCESTIS INTRODUCTION

Though the Alcestis (438BC) does not deal directly with the life and labours of Heracles, it is included in the compendium because it gives an excellent introduction into the hero's strengths, weaknesses and character in general.

Here we see Heracles at his most loyal, brave, steadfast, devout, gluttonous, drunken, boorish and slow-witted.

We will forego the 474 lines before Heracles' entrance. These set the scene for the drama in which Admetus, king of Pherae, has been given the chance to cheat death by another being sacrificed in his place. Though Admetus, rather unreasonably, thinks his father should have volunteered for the job, it is his wife, Alcestis – with whom he is deeply in love – who agrees to go into the underworld instead of her darling husband.

Heracles enters the play just as Alcestis has died and Admetus has declared a period of mourning for all of his subjects. However, rather than be a poor host and turn Heracles away or burden his friend with his grief, he instructs, against the wishes of the servants and against standard protocol, that Heracles be welcomed, entertained and generally lushed-up, but should under no circumstances be told of the tragedy that has unfolded.

The Alcestis is an oddity amongst extant Athenian theatre.

An Athenian tragedian would write and produce three plays for the audience to watch back-to-back and would follow it with a forth Satyr play – a light-hearted, bawdy, comic piece (often featuring Heracles) that would act as a palliative against the serious-minded stuff that had gone before. N.B. Shakespearean tragedies were likewise followed by a jocose song and dance routine following the inevitable stabbing and suicides.

The Alcestis, though by no stretch of the imagination a Satyr play, seems to have been the forth on the playlist for Euripides the year it was produced. This has led to many considering it to be a 'problem play' i.e. one that doesn't fit snugly into either the comic or the tragic genre.

It is very likely for Alcestis' unique categorization that it has survived the ages intact as, to be perfectly frank, it cannot be considered to be one of Euripides' best. As stated above, it is included here in order to give an insight into the archetypal character of Heracles. However, if it's high drama and the cut and thrust of Euripides' quill through the frail flesh human condition that you're after, then you could be forgiven for skipping Alcestis and moving straight on to Heracles.

THE ALCESTIS

By Euripides

Translated by Gilbert Murray

LINES 475ff.

[As the song ceases there enters a stranger, walking strongly, but travel-stained, dusty, and tired. His lion-skin and club show him to be HERACLES.]

HERACLES

Ho, countrymen! To Pherae am I come

By now? And is Admetus in his home?

LEADER

Our King is in his house, Lord Heracles.—

But say, what need brings thee in days

like these To Thessaly and Pherae's wallèd ring?

HERACLES

A quest I follow for the Argive King.

LEADER

What prize doth call thee, and to what far place?

HERACLES

The horses of one Diomede, in Thrace.

LEADER

But how…? Thou know'st not? Is he strange to thee?

HERACLES

Quite strange. I ne'er set foot in Bistony.

LEADER

Not without battle shalt thou win those steeds.

HERACLES

So be it! I cannot fail my master's needs.

LEADER

'Tis slay or die, win or return no more.

HERACLES

Well, I have looked on peril's face before.

LEADER

What profit hast thou in such manslaying?

HERACLES

I shall bring back the horses to my King.

LEADER

'Twere none such easy work to bridle them.

HERACLES

Not easy? Have they nostrils breathing flame?

LEADER

They tear men's flesh; their jaws are swift with blood.

HERACLES

Men's flesh! 'Tis mountain wolves', not horses' food!

LEADER

Thou wilt see their mangers clogged with blood, like mire.

HERACLES

And he who feeds such beasts, who was his sire?

LEADER

Ares, the war-lord of the Golden Targe.

HERACLES

Enough!—This labour fitteth well my large

Fortune, still upward, still against the wind.

How often with these kings of Ares' kind

Must I do battle? First the dark wolf-man,

Lycaon; then 'twas he men called The Swan;

And now this man of steeds!… Well, none shall see

Alcmena's son turn from his enemy.

LEADER

Lo, as we speak, this land's high governor,

Admetus, cometh from his castle door.

Enter ADMETUS from the Castle.

ADMETUS

Zeus-born of Perseid line, all joy to thee!

HERACLES

Joy to Admetus, Lord of Thessaly!

ADMETUS

Right welcome were she!—But thy love I know.

HERACLES

But why this mourning hair, this garb of woe?

ADMETUS (in a comparatively light tone).

There is a burial I must make to-day.

HERACLES

God keep all evil from thy children!

ADMETUS

Nay,

My children live.

HERACLES

Thy father, if 'tis he,

Is ripe in years.

ADMETUS

He liveth, friend, and she

Who bore me.

HERACLES

Surely not thy wife? 'Tis not

Alcestis?

ADMETUS (his composure a little shaken).

Ah; two answers share my thought,

Questioned of her.

HERACLES

Is she alive or dead?

ADMETUS

She is, and is not; and my heart hath bled

Long years for her.

HERACLES

I understand no more.

Thy words are riddles.

ADMETUS

Heard'st thou not of yore

The doom that she must meet?

HERACLES

I know thy wife

Has sworn to die for thee.

ADMETUS

And is it life,

To live with such an oath hung o'er her head?

HERACLES (relieved).

Ah,

Weep not too soon, friend. Wait till she be dead.

ADMETUS

He dies who is doomed to die; he is dead who dies.

HERACLES

The two are different things in most men's eyes.

ADMETUS

Decide thy way, lord, and let me decide

The other way.

HERACLES

Who is it that has died?

Thou weepest.

ADMETUS

'Tis a woman. It doth take

My memory back to her of whom we spake.

HERACLES

A stranger, or of kin to thee?

ADMETUS

Not kin,

But much beloved.

HERACLES

How came she to be in

Thy house to die?

ADMETUS

Her father died, and so

She came to us, an orphan, long ago.

HERACLES

(as though about to depart).

'Tis sad.

I would I had found thee on a happier day.

ADMETUS

Thy words have some intent: what wouldst thou say?

HERACLES

I must find harbour with some other friend.

ADMETUS

My prince, it may not be! God never send

Such evil!

HERACLES

'Tis great turmoil, when a guest

Comes to a mourning house.

ADMETUS

Come in and rest.

Let the dead die!

HERACLES

I cannot, for mere shame,

Feast beside men whose eyes have tears in them.

ADMETUS

The guest-rooms are apart where thou shalt be.

HERACLES

Friend, let me go. I shall go gratefully.

ADMETUS

Thou shalt not enter any door but mine.

(To an Attendant)

Lead in our guest. Unlock the furthest line

Of guest-chambers; and bid the stewards there

Make ready a full feast; then close with care

The midway doors. 'Tis unmeet, if he hears

Our turmoil or is burdened with our tears.

(The Attendant leads HERACLES into the house.)

LEADER

How, master? When within a thing so sad

Lies, thou wilt house a stranger? Art thou mad?

ADMETUS

And had I turned the stranger from my door,

Who sought my shelter, hadst thou praised me more?

I trow not, if my sorrow were thereby

No whit less, only the more friendless I.

And more, when bards tell tales, were it not worse

My house should lie beneath the stranger's curse?

Now he is my sure friend, if e'er I stand

Lonely in Argos, in a thirsty land.

LEADER

Thou callest him thy friend; how didst thou dare

Keep hid from him the burden of thy care?

ADMETUS

He never would have entered, had he known

My grief.—Aye, men may mock what I have done,

And call me fool. My house hath never learned

To fail its friend, nor seen the stranger spurned.

(ADMETUS goes into the house)

CHORUS

Oh, a House that loves the stranger,

And a House for ever free!

And Apollo, the Song-changer,

Was a herdsman in thy fee;

Yea, a-piping he was found,

Where the upward valleys wound,

To the kine from out the manger

And the sheep from off the lea,

And love was upon Othrys at the sound.

And from deep glens unbeholden

Of the forest to his song

There came lynxes streaky-golden,

There came lions in a throng,

Tawny-coated, ruddy-eyed,

To that piper in his pride;

And shy fawns he would embolden,

Dappled dancers, out along

The shadow by the pine-tree's side.

And those magic pipes a-blowing

Have fulfilled thee in thy reign

By thy Lake with honey flowing,

By thy sheepfolds and thy grain;

Where the Sun turns his steeds

To the twilight, all the meads

Of Molossus know thy sowing

And thy ploughs upon the plain.

Yea, and eastward thou art free

To the portals of the sea,

And Pelion, the unharboured, is but minister to thee.

He hath opened wide his dwelling

To the stranger, though his ruth

For the dead was fresh and welling,

For the loved one of his youth.

'Tis the brave heart's cry:

"I will fail not, though I die!"

Doth it win, with no man's telling,

Some high vision of the truth?

We may marvel. Yet I trust,

When man seeketh to be just

And to pity them that wander,

God will raise him from the dust.

(As the song ceases the doors are thrown open and ADMETUS comes before them: a great funeral procession is seen moving out.)

ADMETUS

Most gentle citizens, our dead is here

Made ready; and these youths to bear the bier

Uplifted to the grave-mound and the urn.

Now, seeing she goes forth never to return,

Bid her your last farewell, as mourners may.

(The procession moves forward, past him.)

LEADER

Nay, lord; thy father, walking old and grey;

And followers bearing burial gifts and brave

Gauds, which men call the comfort of the grave.

Enter PHERES with followers bearing robes and gifts.

PHERES

I come in sorrow for thy sorrow, son.

A faithful wife indeed thou hast lost, and one

Who ruled her heart. But, howso hard they be,

We needs must bear these griefs.—Some gifts for thee

Are here…. Yes; take them. Let them go beneath

The sod. We both must honour her in death,

Seeing she hath died, my son, that thou mayst live

Nor I be childless. Aye, she would not give

My soul to a sad old age, mourning for thee.

Methinks she hath made all women's life to be

A nobler thing, by one great woman's deed.

Thou saviour of my son, thou staff in need

To our wrecked age, farewell! May some good life

Be thine still in the grave.—Oh, 'tis a wife

Like this man needs; else let him stay unwed!

(The old man has not noticed ADMETUS'S gathering indignation.)

ADMETUS

I called not thee to burial of my dead,

Nor count thy presence here a welcome thing.

My wife shall wear no robe that thou canst bring,

Nor needs thy help in aught. There was a day

We craved thy love, when I was on my way

Deathward—thy love, which bade thee stand aside

And watch, grey-bearded, while a young man died!

And now wilt mourn for her? Thy fatherhood!

Thou wast no true begetter of my blood,

Nor she my mother who dares call me child.

Oh, she was barren ever; she beguiled

Thy folly with some bastard of a thrall.

Here is thy proof! This hour hath shown me all

Thou art; and now I am no more thy son.

'Fore God, among all cowards can scarce be one

Like thee. So grey, so near the boundary

Of mortal life, thou wouldst not, durst not, die

To save thy son! Thou hast suffered her to do

Thine office, her, no kin to me nor you,

Yet more than kin! Henceforth she hath all the part

Of mother, yea, and father in my heart.

And what a glory had been thine that day,

Dying to save thy son—when, either way,

Thy time must needs be brief. Thy life has had

Abundance of the things that make men glad;

A crown that came to thee in youth; a son

To do thee worship and maintain thy throne—

Not like a childless king, whose folk and lands

Lie helpless, to be torn by strangers' hands.

Wilt say I failed in duty to thine age;

For that thou hast let me die? Not so; most sage,

Most pious I was, to mother and to thee;

And thus ye have paid me! Well, I counsel ye.

Lose no more time. Get quick another son

To foster thy last years, to lay thee on

Thy bier, when dead, and wrap thee in thy pall.

I will not bury thee. I am, for all

The care thou hast shown me, dead. If I have found

Another, true to save me at the bound

Of life and death, that other's child am I,

That other's fostering friend, until I die.

How falsely do these old men pray for death,

Cursing their weight of years, their weary breath!

When Death comes close, there is not one that dares

To die; age is forgot and all its cares.

LEADER

Oh, peace! Enough of sorrow in our path

Is strewn. Thou son, stir not thy father's wrath.

PHERES

My son, whom seekest thou … some Lydian thrall,

Or Phrygian, bought with cash?… to affright withal

By cursing? I am a Thessalian, free,

My father a born chief of Thessaly;

And thou most insolent. Yet think not so

To fling thy loud lewd words at me and go.

I got thee to succeed me in my hall,

I have fed thee, clad thee. But I have no call

To die for thee. Not in our family,

Not in all Greece, doth law bid fathers die

To save their sons. Thy road of life is thine

None other's, to rejoice at or repine.

All that was owed to thee by us is paid.

My throne is thine. My broad lands shall be made

Thine, as I had them from my father…. Say,

How have I wronged thee? What have I kept away?

"Not died for thee?"… I ask not thee to die.

Thou lovest this light: shall I not love it, I?…

'Tis age on age there, in the dark; and here

My sunlit time is short, but dear; but dear.

Thou hast fought hard enough. Thou drawest breath

Even now, long past thy portioned hour of death,

By murdering her … and blamest my faint heart,

Coward, who hast let a woman play thy part

And die to save her pretty soldier! Aye,

A good plan, surely! Thou needst never die;

Thou canst find alway somewhere some fond wife

To die for thee. But, prithee, make not strife

With other friends, who will not save thee so.

Be silent, loving thine own life, and know

All men love theirs!… Taunt others, and thou too

Shalt hear much that is bitter, and is true.

LEADER

Too much of wrath before, too much hath run

After. Old man, cease to revile thy son.

ADMETUS

Speak on. I have spoken…. If my truth of tongue

Gives pain to thee, why didst thou do me wrong?

PHERES

Wrong? To have died for thee were far more wrong.

ADMETUS

How can an old life weigh against a young?

PHERES

Man hath but one, not two lives, to his use.

ADMETUS

Oh, live on; live, and grow more old than Zeus!

PHERES

Because none wrongs thee, thou must curse thy sire?

ADMETUS

I blest him. Is not life his one desire?

PHERES

This dead, methinks, is lying in thy place.

ADMETUS

A proof, old traitor, of thy cowardliness!

PHERES

Died she through me?… That thou wilt hardly say.

ADMETUS (

almost breaking down).

O God!

Mayst thou but feel the need of me some day!

PHERES

Go forward; woo more wives that more may die.

ADMETUS

As thou wouldst not! Thine is the infamy.

PHERES

This light of heaven is sweet, and sweet again.

ADMETUS

Thy heart is foul. A thing unmeet for men.

PHERES

Thou laugh'st not yet across the old man's tomb.

ADMETUS

Dishonoured thou shalt die when death shall come.

PHERES

Once dead, I shall not care what tales are told.

ADMETUS

Great Gods, so lost to honour and so old!

PHERES

She was not lost to honour: she was blind.

ADMETUS

Go! Leave me with my dead…. Out from my mind!

PHERES

I go. Bury the woman thou hast slain….

Her kinsmen yet may come to thee with plain

Question. Acastus hath small place in good

Men, if he care not for his sister's blood.

(PHERES goes off, with his Attendants. ADMETUS calls after him as he goes.)

ADMETUS

Begone, begone, thou and thy bitter mate!

Be old and childless—ye have earned your fate—

While your son lives! For never shall ye be

From henceforth under the same roof with me….

Must I send heralds and a trumpet's call

To abjure thy blood? Fear not, I will send them all….

(PHERES is now out of sight; ADMETUS drops his defiance and seems like a broken man.)

But we—our sorrow is upon us; come

With me, and let us bear her to the tomb.

CHORUS

Ah me!

Farewell, unfalteringly brave!

Farewell, thou generous heart and true!

May Pluto give thee welcome due,

And Hermes love thee in the grave.

Whate'er of blessèd life there be

For high souls to the darkness flown,

Be thine for ever, and a throne

Beside the crowned Persephonê.

(The funeral procession has formed and moves slowly out, followed by ADMETUS and the CHORUS. The stage is left empty, till a side door of the Castle opens and there comes out a SERVANT, angry and almost in tears.)

SERVANT

Full many a stranger and from many a land

Hath lodged in this old castle, and my hand

Served them; but never has there passed this way

A scurvier ruffian than our guest to-day.

He saw my master's grief, but all the more

In he must come, and shoulders through the door.

And after, think you he would mannerly

Take what was set before him? No, not he!

If, on this day of trouble, we left out

Some small thing, he must have it with a shout.

Up, in both hands, our vat of ivy-wood

He raised, and drank the dark grape's burning blood,

Strong and untempered, till the fire was red

Within him; then put myrtle round his head

And roared some noisy song. So had we there

Discordant music. He, without a care

For all the affliction of Admetus' halls,

Sang on; and, listening, one could hear the thralls

In the long gallery weeping for the dead.

We let him see no tears. Our master made

That order, that the stranger must not know.

So here I wait in her own house, and do

Service to some black thief, some man of prey;

And she has gone, has gone for ever away.

I never followed her, nor lifted high

My hand to bless her; never said good-bye….

I loved her like my mother. So did all

The slaves. She never let his anger fall

Too hard. She saved us alway…. And this wild beast

Comes in our sorrow when we need him least!

(During the last few lines HERACLES has entered, unperceived by the SERVANT. He has evidently bathed and changed his garments and drunk his fill, and is now revelling, a garland of flowers on his head. He frightens the SERVANT a little from time to time during the following speech.)

HERACLES

Friend, why so solemn and so cranky-eyed?

'Tis not a henchman's office, to show pride

To his betters. He should smile and make good cheer.

There comes a guest, thy lord's old comrade, here;

And thou art all knitted eyebrows, scowls and head

Bent, because somebody, forsooth, is dead!

Come close! I mean to make thee wiser.

(The SERVANT reluctantly comes close.)

So.

Dost comprehend things mortal, how they grow?…

(To himself) I suppose not. How could he?…

Look this way!

Death is a debt all mortal men must pay;

Aye, there is no man living who can say

If life will last him yet a single day.

On, to the dark, drives Fortune; and no force

Can wrest her secret nor put back her course….

I have told thee now. I have taught thee. After this

Eat, drink, make thyself merry. Count the bliss

Of the one passing hour thine own; the rest

Is Fortune's. And give honour chiefliest

To our lady Cypris, giver of all joys

To man. 'Tis a sweet goddess. Otherwise,

Let all these questions sleep and just obey

My counsel…. Thou believest all I say?

I hope so…. Let this stupid grieving be;

Rise up above thy troubles, and with me

Drink in a cloud of blossoms. By my soul,

I vow the sweet plash-music of the bowl

Will break thy glumness, loose thee from the frown

Within. Let mortal man keep to his own

Mortality, and not expect too much.

To all your solemn dogs and other such

Scowlers—I tell thee truth, no more nor less—

Life is not life, but just unhappiness.

(He offers the wine-bowl to the SERVANT, who avoids it.)

SERVANT

We know all this. But now our fortunes be

Not such as ask for mirth or revelry.

HERACLES

A woman dead, of no one's kin; why grieve

So much? Thy master and thy mistress live.

SERVANT

Live? Man, hast thou heard nothing of our woe?

HERACLES

Yes, thy lord told me all I need to know.

SERVANT

He is too kind to his guests, more kind than wise.

HERACLES

Must I go starved because some stranger dies?

SERVANT

Some stranger?—Yes, a stranger verily!

HERACLES (his manner beginning to change).

Is this some real grief he hath hid from me?

SERVANT

Go, drink, man! Leave to us our master's woes.

HERACLES

It sounds not like a stranger. Yet, God knows…

SERVANT

How should thy revelling hurt, if that were all?

HERACLES

Hath mine own friend so wronged me in his hall?

SERVANT

Thou camest at an hour when none was free

To accept thee. We were mourning. Thou canst see

Our hair, black robes…

HERACLES (suddenly, in a voice of thunder).

Who is it that is dead?

SERVANT

Alcestis, the King's wife.

HERACLES (overcome).

What hast thou said?

Alcestis?… And ye feasted me withal!

SERVANT

He held it shame to turn thee from his hall.

HERACLES

Shame! And when such a wondrous wife was gone!

SERVANT (breaking into tears).

Oh, all is gone, all lost, not she alone!

HERACLES

I knew, I felt it, when I saw his tears,

And face, and shorn hair. But he won mine ears

With talk of the strange woman and her rite

Of burial. So in mine own heart's despite

I crossed his threshold and sat drinking—he

And I old friends!—in his calamity.

Drank, and sang songs, and revelled, my head hot

With wine and flowers!… And thou to tell me not,

When all the house lay filled with sorrow, thou!

(A pause; then suddenly)

Where lies the tomb?—Where shall I find her now?

SERVANT (frightened).

Close by the straight Larissa road. The tall

White marble showeth from the castle wall.

HERACLES

O heart, O hand, great doings have ye done

Of old: up now, and show them what a son

Took life that hour, when she of Tiryns' sod,

Electryon's daughter, mingled with her God!

I needs must save this woman from the shore

Of death and set her in her house once more,

Repaying Admetus' love…. This Death, this black

And wingèd Lord of corpses, I will track

Home. I shall surely find him by the grave

A-hungered, lapping the hot blood they gave

In sacrifice. An ambush: then, one spring,

One grip! These arms shall be a brazen ring,

With no escape, no rest, howe'er he whine

And curse his mauled ribs, till the Queen is mine!

Or if he escape me, if he come not there

To seek the blood of offering, I will fare

Down to the Houses without Light, and bring

To Her we name not and her nameless King

Strong prayers, until they yield to me and send

Alcestis home, to life and to my friend:

Who gave me shelter, drove me not away

In his great grief, but hid his evil day

Like a brave man, because he loved me well.

Is one in all this land more hospitable,

One in all Greece? I swear no man shall say

He hath cast his love upon a churl away!

(He goes forth, just as he is, in the direction of the grave. The SERVANT watches a moment and goes back into the hall.)

(The stage is empty; then ADMETUS and the CHORUS return.)

ADMETUS

Alas!

Bitter the homeward way,

Bitter to seek

A widowed house; ah me,

Where should I fly or stay,

Be dumb or speak?

Would I could cease to be!

Despair, despair!

My mother bore me under an evil star.

I envy them that are perished; my heart is there.

It dwells in the Sunless Houses, afar, afar.

I take no joy in looking upon the light;

No joy in the feel of the earth beneath my tread.

The Slayer hath taken his hostage; the Lord of the Dead

Holdeth me sworn to taste no more delight.

(He throws himself on the ground in despair.)

CHORUS (Each member of the CHORUS speaks his line severally, as he passes ADMETUS, who is heard sobbing at the end of each line.)

—Advance, advance;

Till the house shall give thee cover.

—Thou hast borne heavy things

And meet for lamentation.

—Thou hast passed, hast passed,

Thro' the deepest of the River.

—Yet no help comes

To the sad and silent nation.

—And the face of thy belovèd,

it shall meet thee never, never!

ADMETUS

Ye wrench my wounds asunder. Where

Is grief like mine, whose wife is dead?

My wife, whom would I ne'er had wed,

Nor loved, nor held my house with her….

Blessed are they who dare to dwell

Unloved of woman! 'Tis but one

Heart that they bleed with, and alone

Can bear their one life's burden well.

No young shall wither at their side,

No bridal room be swept by death….

Aye, better man should draw his breath

For ever without child or bride.

CHORUS (as before).

—'Tis Fate, 'tis Fate:

She is strong and none shall break her.

—No end, no end,

Wilt thou lay to lamentations?

—Endure and be still:

Thy lamenting will not wake her.

—There be many before thee,

Who have suffered and had patience.

—Though the face of Sorrow changeth,

yet her hand is on all nations.

ADMETUS

The garb of tears, the mourner's cry:

Then the long ache when tears are past!…

Oh, why didst hinder me to cast

This body to the dust and die

With her, the faithful and the brave?

Then not one lonely soul had fled,

But two great lovers, proudly dead,

Through the deep waters of the grave.

LEADER

A friend I knew,

In whose house died a son,

Worthy of bitter rue,

His only one.

His head sank, yet he bare

Stilly his weight of care,

Though grey was in his hair

And life nigh done.

ADMETUS

Ye shapes that front me, wall and gate,

How shall I enter in and dwell

Among ye, with all Fortune's spell

Dischanted? Aye, the change is great.

That day I strode with bridal song

Through lifted brands of Pelian pine;

A hand belovèd lay in mine;

And loud behind a revelling throng

Exalted me and her, the dead.

They called us young, high-hearted; told

How princes were our sires of old,

And how we loved and we must wed….

For those high songs, lo, men that moan,

And raiment black where once was white;

Who guide me homeward in the night,

On that waste bed to lie alone.

SECOND ELDER

It breaks, like strife,

Thy long peace, where no pain

Had entered; yet is life,

Sweet life, not slain.

A wife dead; a dear chair

Empty: is that so rare?

Men live without despair

Whose loves are ta'en.

ADMETUS (erect and facing them).

Behold, I count my wife's fate happier,

Though all gainsay me, than mine own. To her

Comes no more pain for ever; she hath rest

And peace from all toil, and her name is blest.

But I am one who hath no right to stay

Alive on earth; one that hath lost his way

In fate, and strays in dreams of life long past….

Friends, I have learned my lesson at the last.

I have my life. Here stands my house. But now

How dare I enter in? Or, entered, how

Go forth again? Go forth, when none is there

To give me a parting word, and I to her?…

Where shall I turn for refuge? There within,

The desert that remains where she hath been

Will drive me forth, the bed, the empty seat

She sat in; nay, the floor beneath my feet

Unswept, the children crying at my knee

For mother; and the very thralls will be

In sobs for the dear mistress that is lost.

That is my home! If I go forth, a host

Of feasts and bridal dances, gatherings gay

Of women, will be there to fright me away

To loneliness. Mine eyes will never bear

The sight. They were her friends; they played with her.

And always, always, men who hate my name

Will murmur: "This is he who lives in shame

Because he dared not die! He gave instead

The woman whom he loved, and so is fled

From death. He counts himself a man withal!

And seeing his parents died not at his call

He hates them, when himself he dared not die!"

Such mocking beside all my pain shall I

Endure…. What profit was it to live on,

Friend, with my grief kept and mine honour gone?

CHORUS

I have sojourned in the Muse's land,

Have wandered with the wandering star,

Seeking for strength, and in my hand

Held all philosophies that are;

Yet nothing could I hear nor see

Stronger than That Which Needs Must Be.

No Orphic rune, no Thracian scroll,

Hath magic to avert the morrow;

No healing all those medicines brave

Apollo to the Asclepiad gave;

Pale herbs of comfort in the bowl

Of man's wide sorrow.

She hath no temple, she alone,

Nor image where a man may kneel;

No blood upon her altar-stone

Crying shall make her hear nor feel.

I know thy greatness; come not great

Beyond my dreams, O Power of Fate!

Aye, Zeus himself shall not unclose

His purpose save by thy decerning.

The chain of iron, the Scythian sword,

It yields and shivers at thy word;

Thy heart is as the rock, and knows

No ruth, nor turning.

(They turn to ADMETUS.)

Her hand hath caught thee; yea, the keeping

Of iron fingers grips thee round.

Be still. Be still. Thy noise of weeping

Shall raise no lost one from the ground.

Nay, even the Sons of God are parted

At last from joy, and pine in death….

Oh, dear on earth when all did love her,

Oh, dearer lost beyond recover:

Of women all the bravest-hearted

Hath pressed thy lips and breathed thy breath.

Let not the earth that lies upon her

Be deemed a grave-mound of the dead.

Let honour, as the Gods have honour,

Be hers, till men shall bow the head,

And strangers, climbing from the city

Her slanting path, shall muse and say:

"This woman died to save her lover,

And liveth blest, the stars above her:

Hail, Holy One, and grant thy pity!"

So pass the wondering words away.

LEADER

But see, it is Alcmena's son once more,

My lord King, cometh striding to thy door.

(Enter HERACLES; his dress is as in the last scene, but shows signs of a struggle. Behind come two Attendants, guiding between them a veiled Woman, who seems like one asleep or unconscious. The Woman remains in the background while HERACLES comes forward.)

HERACLES

Thou art my friend, Admetus; therefore bold

And plain I tell my story, and withhold

No secret hurt.—Was I not worthy, friend,

To stand beside thee; yea, and to the end

Be proven in sorrow if I was true to thee?

And thou didst tell me not a word, while she

Lay dead within; but bid me feast, as though

Naught but the draping of some stranger's woe

Was on thee. So I garlanded my brow

And poured the gods drink-offering, and but now

Filled thy death-stricken house with wine and song.

Thou hast done me wrong, my brother; a great wrong

Thou hast done me. But I will not add more pain

In thine affliction.

Why I am here again,

Returning, thou must hear. I pray thee, take

And keep yon woman for me till I make

My homeward way from Thrace, when I have ta'en

Those four steeds and their bloody master slain.

And if—which heaven avert!—I ne'er should see

Hellas again, I leave her here, to be

An handmaid in thy house. No labour small

Was it that brought her to my hand at all.

I fell upon a contest certain Kings

Had set for all mankind, sore buffetings

And meet for strong men, where I staked my life

And won this woman. For the easier strife

Black steeds were prizes; herds of kine were cast

For heavier issues, fists and wrestling; last,

This woman…. Lest my work should all seem done

For naught, I needs must keep what I have won;

So prithee take her in. No theft, but true

Toil, won her…. Some day thou mayst thank me, too.

ADMETUS

'Twas in no scorn, no bitterness to thee,

I hid my wife's death and my misery.

Methought it was but added pain on pain

If thou shouldst leave me, and roam forth again

Seeking another's roof. And, for mine own

Sorrow, I was content to weep alone.

But, for this damsel, if it may be so,

I pray thee, Lord, let some man, not in woe

Like mine, take her. Thou hast in Thessaly

Abundant friends…. 'Twould wake sad thoughts in me.

How could I have this damsel in my sight

And keep mine eyes dry? Prince, why wilt thou smite

The smitten? Griefs enough are on my head.

Where in my castle could so young a maid

Be lodged—her veil and raiment show her young:

Here, in the men's hall? I should fear some wrong.

'Tis not so easy, Prince, to keep controlled

My young men. And thy charge I fain would hold

Sacred.—If not, wouldst have me keep her in

The women's chambers … where my dead hath been?

How could I lay this woman where my bride

Once lay? It were dishonour double-dyed.

These streets would curse the man who so betrayed

The wife who saved him for some younger maid;

The dead herself … I needs must worship her

And keep her will.

(During the last few lines ADMETUS has been looking at the veiled Woman and, though he does not consciously recognize her, feels a strange emotion overmastering him. He draws back.)

Aye. I must walk with care….

O woman, whosoe'er thou art, thou hast

The shape of my Alcestis; thou art cast

In mould like hers…. Oh, take her from mine eyes!

In God's name!

(HERACLES signs to the Attendants to take ALCESTIS away again.

She stays veiled and unnoticing in the background.)

I was fallen, and in this wise

Thou wilt make me deeper fall…. Meseems, meseems,

There in her face the loved one of my dreams

Looked forth.—My heart is made a turbid thing,

Craving I know not what, and my tears spring

Unbidden.—Grief I knew 'twould be; but how

Fiery a grief I never knew till now.

LEADER

Thy fate I praise not. Yet, what gift soe'er

God giveth, man must steel himself and bear.

HERACLES (drawing ADMETUS on).

Would God, I had the power, 'mid all this might

Of arm, to break the dungeons of the night,

And free thy wife, and make thee glad again!

ADMETUS

Where is such power? I know thy heart were fain;

But so 'tis writ. The dead shall never rise.

HERACLES

Chafe not the curb, then: suffer and be wise.

ADMETUS

Easier to give such counsel than to keep.

HERACLES

Who will be happier, shouldst thou always weep?

ADMETUS

Why, none. Yet some blind longing draws me on…

HERACLES

'Tis natural. Thou didst love her that is gone.

ADMETUS

'Tis that hath wrecked, oh more than wrecked, my life.

HERACLES

'Tis certain: thou hast lost a faithful wife.

ADMETUS

Till life itself is dead and wearies me.

HERACLES

Thy pain is yet young. Time will soften thee,

(The veiled Woman begins dimly, as though in a dream, to hear the words spoken.)

ADMETUS

Time? Yes, if time be death.

HERACLES

Nay, wait; and some

Woman, some new desire of love, will come.

ADMETUS (indignantly).

Peace!

How canst thou? Shame upon thee!

HERACLES

Thou wilt stay

Unwed for ever, lonely night and day?

ADMETUS

No other bride in these void arms shall lie.

HERACLES

What profit will thy dead wife gain thereby?

ADMETUS

Honour; which finds her wheresoe'er she lies.

HERACLES

Most honourable in thee: but scarcely wise!

ADMETUS

God curse me, if I betray her in her tomb!

HERACLES

So be it!…

And this good damsel, thou wilt take her home?

ADMETUS

No, in the name of Zeus, thy father! No!

HERACLES

I swear, 'tis not well to reject her so.

ADMETUS

'Twould tear my heart to accept her.

HERACLES

Grant me, friend,

This one boon! It may help thee in the end.

ADMETUS

Woe's me!

Would God thou hadst never won those victories!

HERACLES

Thou sharest both the victory and the prize.

ADMETUS

Thou art generous…. But now let her go.

HERACLES

She shall,

If go she must. Look first, and judge withal.

(He takes the veil off ALCESTIS.)

ADMETUS (steadily refusing to look).

She must.—And thou, forgive me!

HERACLES

Friend, there is

A secret reason why I pray for this.

ADMETUS (surprised, then reluctantly yielding).

I grant thy boon then—though it likes me ill.

HERACLES

'Twill like thee later. Now … but do my will.

ADMETUS (beckoning to an Attendant).

Take her; find her some lodging in my hall.

HERACLES

I will not yield this maid to any thrall.

ADMETUS

Take her thyself and lead her in.

HERACLES

I stand

Beside her; take her; lead her to thy hand.

(He brings the Woman close to ADMETUS, who looks determinedly away. She reaches out her arms.)

ADMETUS

I touch her not.—Let her go in!

HERACLES

I am loth

To trust her save to thy pledged hand and oath.

(He lays his hand on ADMETUS'S shoulder.)

ADMETUS (desperately).

Lord, this is violence … wrong …

HERACLES

Reach forth thine hand

And touch this comer from a distant land.

ADMETUS (holding out his hand without looking).

Like Perseus when he touched the Gorgon, there!

HERACLES

Thou hast touched her?

ADMETUS (at last taking her hand).

Touched her?… Yes.

HERACLES (a hand on the shoulder of each).

Then cling to her;

And say if thou hast found a guest of grace

In God's son, Heracles! Look in her face;

Look; is she like…?

(ADMETUS looks and stands amazed.)

Go, and forget in bliss

Thy sorrow!

ADMETUS

O ye Gods! What meaneth this?

A marvel beyond dreams! The face … 'tis she;

Mine, verily mine! Or doth God mock at me

And blast my vision with some mad surmise?

HERACLES

Not so. This is thy wife before thine eyes.

ADMETUS (who has recoiled in his amazement).

Beware! The dead have phantoms that they send…

HERACLES

Nay; no ghost-raiser hast thou made thy friend.

ADMETUS

My wife … she whom I buried?

HERACLES

I deceive

Thee not; nor wonder thou canst scarce believe.

ADMETUS

And dare I touch her, greet her, as mine own

Wife living?

HERACLES

Greet her. Thy desire is won.

ADMETUS (approaching with awe),

Beloved eyes; beloved form; O thou

Gone beyond hope, I have thee, I hold thee now?

HERACLES

Thou hast her: may no god begrudge your joy.

ADMETUS (turning to HERACLES).

O lordly conqueror, Child of Zeus on high,

Be blessèd! And may He, thy sire above,

Save thee, as thou alone hast saved my love!

(He kneels to HERACLES, who raises him.)

But how … how didst thou win her to the light?

HERACLES

I fought for life with Him I needs must fight.

ADMETUS

With Death thou hast fought! But where?

HERACLES

Among his dead

I lay, and sprang and gripped him as he fled.

ADMETUS (in an awed whisper, looking towards ALCESTIS).

Why standeth she so still? No sound, no word!

HERACLES

She hath dwelt with Death. Her voice may not be heard

Ere to the Lords of Them Below she pay

Due cleansing, and awake on the third day.

(To the Attendants) So; guide her home.

(They lead ALCESTIS to the doorway.)

And thou, King, for the rest

Of time, be true; be righteous to thy guest,

As he would have thee be. But now farewell!

My task yet lies before me, and the spell

That binds me to my master; forth I fare.

ADMETUS

Stay with us this one day! Stay but to share

The feast upon our hearth!

HERACLES

The feasting day

Shall surely come; now I must needs away.

(HERACLES departs.)

ADMETUS

Farewell! All victory attend thy name

And safe home-coming!

Lo, I make proclaim

To the Four Nations and all Thessaly;

A wondrous happiness hath come to be:

Therefore pray, dance, give offerings and make full

Your altars with the life-blood of the Bull!

For me … my heart is changed; my life shall mend

Henceforth. For surely Fortune is a friend.

(He goes with ALCESTIS into the house.)

CHORUS

There be many shapes of mystery;

And many things God brings to be,

Past hope or fear.

And the end men looked for cometh not,

And a path is there where no man thought.

So hath it fallen here.

Heracles Introduction

Heracles (416 BC) begins with the eponymous hero away in the underworld performing his twelfth and final labour: subduing and capturing the hellhound, Cerberus.

The story takes place in the city of Thebes where a usurping tyrant, Lycus, is resolved to kill Heracles' entire family due to the rightful claim they have on his throne. The drama initially seems to revolve around whether or not Heracles will – in true U.S. Marines cusping the hill at the eleventh hour fashion – arrive in time to save the day. However, when this point actually arrives, it is only the beginning of this macabre, sinister and heart-breaking drama.

Like all good theatre, Heracles has many themes that resonate through the ages. It's probably not quite accurate to say the issues it raises are just as thought-provoking today as they were in antiquity – they may have been even more revolutionary back in the fifth century BC – however, many of the issues the play brings up have certainly not been resolved even to this day.

Though reading and re-reading this profound text will continuously throw up new and interesting points of debate, the main issues it raises are the following:

1. It is anti-pious, bordering on the blasphemous. The gods are either portrayed as immoral, amoral or, simply, non-existent. Renowned Classicist Philip Vellacott stated that the message from Euripides is loud and clear: “an intelligent man should not rely on the gods for an acceptable standard of moral behaviour, any more than for protection in danger. Man must be his own god, and stand or fall by his own decisions.” And this leads us to the play's next theme...

2. The sanctity of the individual/the importance of personal responsibility. This point links into the first and will be able to either bring both sides of the political divide together or alienate everyone entirely! Despite the fact that the gods seem hell-bent on manipulating human events in the most cruel and egregious manner, the message comes across loud and clear again and again – 'men make their own destiny'. Obviously, Heracles is the prism through which we are encouraged to view this dichotomy, but the Chorus of weak, elderly men also underline the fact that the gods aren't going to step in and help them simply because their flesh is old and frail (the sapping cruelty of old-age could also be considered a sub-theme here).

3. The sanctity of friendship and how it shows its true colours in times of adversity. This is perhaps the most repeated, most enduring and most uplifting theme of the entire play. The message can be summarized from that trite, but true, quote from Walter Winchell: “A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out”.

Amongst other sub-themes one could mention fate vs chance, the world's innate lack of justice, and the importance of dignity in the face of death rather than living a shameful life. There is also, if one wishes to hear it, an oblique echo of what would come to be a cornerstone of the gun-control debate.

In short, the Heracles provides much more than an insight into the activities of one of Greece's greatest heroes. It is an amusing, engaging and much underrated piece of ancient theatre.

Heracles

By Euripides

Translated by E. P. Coleridge

Dramatis Personae

AMPHITRYON, husband of Alcmena, the mother of HERACLES

MEGARA, wife of HERACLES, daughter of Creon

LYCUS, unlawful King of Thebes

IRIS

MADNESS

MESSENGER

HERACLES, son of Zeus and Alcmena

THESEUS, King of Athens

CHORUS OF OLD MEN OF THEBES

Before the palace of HERACLES at Thebes. Nearby stands the altar of

Zeus, on the steps of which are now seated AMPHITRYON, MEGARA and her sons by HERACLES. They are seeking refuge at the altar.

AMPHITRYON

What mortal hath not heard of him who shared a wife with Zeus, Amphitryon of Argos, whom on a day Alcaeus, son of Perseus begat, Amphitryon the father of Heracles? He it was dwelt here in Thebes, where from the sowing of the dragon's teeth grew up a crop of earth-born giants; for of these Ares saved a scanty band, and their children's children people the city of Cadmus. Hence sprung Creon, son of Menoeceus, king of this land; and Creon became the father of this lady Megara, whom once all Cadmus' race escorted with the glad music of lutes at her wedding, in the day that Heracles, illustrious chief, led her to my halls. Now he, my son, left Thebes where I was settled, left his wife Megara and her kin, eager to make his home in Argolis, in that walled town which the Cyclopes built, whence I am exiled for the slaying of Electryon; so he, wishing to lighten my affliction and to find a home in his own land, did offer Eurystheus a mighty price for my recall, even to free the world of savage monsters, whether it was that Hera goaded him to submit to this, or that fate was leagued against him. Divers are the toils he hath accomplished, and last of all hath he passed through the mouth of Taenarus into the halls of Hades to drag to the light that hound with bodies three, and thence is he never returned. Now there is an ancient legend amongst the race of Cadmus, that one Lycus in days gone by was husband to Dirce being king of this city with its seven towers, before that Amphion and Zethus, sons of Zeus, lords of the milk-white steeds, became rulers in the land. His son, called by the same name as his father, albeit no Theban but a stranger from Euboea, slew Creon, and after that seized the government, having fallen on this city when weakened by dissension.

So this connection with Creon is likely to prove to us a serious evil; for now that my son is in the bowels of the earth, this illustrious monarch Lycus is bent on extirpating the children of Heracles, to quench one bloody feud with another, likewise his wife and me, if useless age like mine is to rank amongst men, that the boys may never grow up to exact a blood-penalty of their uncle's family. So I, left here by my son, whilst he is gone into the pitchy darkness of the earth, to tend and guard his children in his house, am taking my place with their mother, that the race of Heracles may not perish, here at the altar of Zeus the Saviour, which my own gallant child set up to commemorate his glorious victory over the Minyae. And here we are careful to keep our station, though in need of everything, of food, of drink, and raiment, huddled together on the hard bare ground; for we are barred out from our house and sit here for want of any other safety. As for friends, some I see are insincere; while others, who are staunch, have no power to help us further. This is what misfortune means to man; God grant it may never fall to the lot of any who bears the least goodwill to me, to apply this never-failing test of friendship!

MEGARA

Old warrior, who erst did raze the citadel of the Taphians leading on the troops of Thebes to glory, how uncertain are God's dealings with man! For I, as far as concerned my sire was never an

outcast of fortune, for he was once accounted a man of might by reason of his wealth, possessed as he was of royal power, for which long spears are launched at the lives of the fortunate through love of it; children too he had; and me did he betroth to thy son, matching me in glorious marriage with Heracles. Whereas now all that is dead and gone from us; and I and thou, old friend, art doomed to die, and these children of Heracles, whom I am guarding 'neath my wing as a bird keepeth her tender chicks under her. And they the while in turn keep asking me, "Mother, whither is our father gone from the land? what is he about? when will he return?" Thus they inquire for their father, in childish perplexity; while I put them off with excuses, inventing stories; but still I wonder if 'tis he whenever a door creaks on its hinges, and up they all start, thinking to embrace their father's knees. What hope or way of salvation art thou now devising, old friend?

For to thee I look. We can never steal beyond the boundaries of the land unseen, for there is too strict a watch set on us at every outlet, nor have we any longer hopes of safety in our friends. Whatever thy scheme is, declare it, lest our death be made ready, while we are only prolonging the time, powerless to escape.

AMPHITRYON

'Tis by no means easy, my daughter, to give one's earnest advice on such matters easily, without weary thought.

MEGARA

Dost need a further taste of grief, or cling so fast to life?

AMPHITRYON

Yes, I love this life, and cling to its hopes.

MEGARA

So do I; but it boots not to expect the unexpected, old friend.

AMPHITRYON

In these delays is left the only cure for our evils.

MEGARA

'Tis the pain of that interval I feel so.

AMPHITRYON

Daughter, there may yet be a happy escape from present troubles for me and thee; my son, thy husband, may yet arrive. So calm thyself, and wipe those tears from thy children's eyes, and soothe them with soft words, inventing a tale to delude them, piteous though such fraud be. Yea, for men's misfortunes ofttimes flag, and the stormy wind doth not always blow so strong, nor are the prosperous ever so; for all things change, making way for each other. The bravest man is he who relieth ever on his hopes, but despair is the mark of a coward. (The CHORUS OF OLD MEN OF THEBES enters.)

CHORUS  (chanting, strophe)

To the sheltering roof, to the old man's couch, leaning on my staff have I set forth, chanting a plaintive dirge like some bird grown grey, I that am but a voice and nothing more, a fancy bred of the visions of sleep by night, palsied with age, yet meaning kindly. All hail! ye orphaned babes! all hail, old friend thou too, -unhappy mother, wailing for thy husband in the halls of Hades!

(antistrophe)

Faint not too soon upon your way, nor let your limbs grow weary, even as a colt beneath the yoke grows weary as he mounts some stony hill, dragging the weight of a wheeled car. Take hold of hand or robe, whoso feels his footsteps falter. Old friend, escort another like thyself, who erst amid his toiling peers in the days of our youth would take his place beside thee, no blot upon his country's glorious record.

See, how like their father's sternly flash these children's eyes! Misfortune, God wot, hath not failed his children, nor yet hath his comeliness been denied them. O Hellas! if thou lose these, of what allies wilt thou rob thyself!

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

But I see Lycus, the ruler of this land, drawing near the house.  (Lycus and his attendants enter.)

LYCUS

One question, if I may, to this father of Heracles and his wife; and certainly as your lord and master I have a right to put what questions choose. How long do ye seek to prolong your lives?

What hope, what succour do ye see to save you from death? Do you trust that these children's father, who lies dead in the halls of Hades, will return? How unworthily ye show your sorrow at having to die, thou  (to AMPHITRYON)  after thy idle boasts, scattered broadcast through Hellas, that Zeus was partner in thy marriage-bed and there begat a new god; and thou (to MEGARA) after calling thyself the wife of so peerless a lord.

After all, what was the fine exploit thy husband achieved, if he did kill a hydra in a marsh or that monster of Nemea? which he caught in a snare, for all he says he strangled it to death in his arms. Are these your weapons for the hard struggle? Is it for this then that Heracles' children should be spared? a man who has won a reputation for valour in his contests with beasts, in all else a weakling; who ne'er buckled shield to arm nor faced the spear, but with a bow, that coward's weapon, was ever ready to run away. Archery is no test of manly bravery; no! he is a man who keeps his post in the ranks and steadily faces the swift wound the spear may plough. My policy, again, old man, shows no reckless cruelty, but caution; for I am well aware I slew Creon, the father of Megara, and am in possession of his throne.

So I have no wish that these children should grow up and be left to take vengeance on me in requital for what I have done.

AMPHITRYON

As for Zeus, let Zeus defend his son's case; but as for me, Heracles, I am only anxious on thy behalf to prove by what I say this tyrant's ignorance; for I cannot allow thee to be ill spoken of. First then for that which should never have been said,-for to speak of thee Heracles as coward is, methinks, outside the pale of speech,-of that must I clear the with heaven to witness. I appeal then to the thunder of Zeus, and the chariot wherein he rode, when he pierced the giants, earth's brood, to the heart with his winged shafts, and with gods uplifted the glorious triumph-song; or go to Pholoe and ask the insolent tribe of four-legged Centaurs, thou craven king, ask them who they would judge their bravest foe; will they not say my son, who according to thee is but a pretender? Wert thou to ask Euboean Dirphys, thy native place, it would nowise sing thy praise, for thou hast never done a single gallant deed to which thy country can witness. Next thou dost disparage that clever invention, an archer's weapon; come, listen to me and learn wisdom. A man who fights in line is a slave to his weapons, and if his fellow-comrades want for courage he is slain himself through the cowardice of his neighbours, or, if he break his spear, he has not wherewithal to defend his body from death, having only one means of defence; whereas all who are armed with the trusty bow, though they have but one weapon, yet is it the best; for a man, after discharging countless arrows, still has others wherewith to defend himself from death, and standing at a distance keeps off the enemy, wounding them for all their watchfulness with shafts invisible, and never exposing himself to the foe, but keeping under cover; and this is far the wisest course in battle, to harm the enemy, if they are not stationed out of shot, and keep safe oneself.

These arguments are completely opposite to thine with regard to the point at issue. Next, why art thou desirous of slaying these children?

What have they done to thee? One piece of wisdom credit thee with, thy coward terror of a brave man's descendants. Still it is hard on us, if for thy cowardice we must die; a fate that ought to have overtaken thee at our braver hands, if Zeus had been fairly disposed towards us. But, if thou art so anxious to make thyself supreme in the land, let us at least go into exile; abstain from all violence, else thou wilt suffer by it whenso the deity causes fortune's breeze to veer round.

Ah! thou land of Cadmus,-for to thee too will I turn, upbraiding thee with words of reproach,-is this your succour of Heracles and his children? the man who faced alone the Minyan host in battle and allowed Thebes to see the light with freemen's eyes. I cannot praise Hellas, nor will I ever keep silence, finding her so craven as regards my son; she should have come with fire and sword and warrior's arms to help these tender babes, to requite him for all his labours in purging land and sea. Such help, my children, neither Hellas nor the city of Thebes affords you; to me a feeble friend ye look, that am but empty sound and nothing more. For the vigour which once I had, is gone from me; my limbs are palsied with age, and my strength is decayed.

Were I but young and still a man of my hands, I would have seized my spear and dabbled those flaxen locks of his with blood, so that the coward would now be flying from my prowess beyond the bounds of Atlas.

LEADER

Have not the brave amongst mankind a fair opening for speech, albeit slow to begin?

LYCUS

Say what thou wilt of me in thy exalted phrase, but I by deeds will make thee rue those words. (Calling to his servants)  Ho! Bid wood-cutters go, some to Helicon, others to the glens of Parnassus, and cut me logs of oak, and when they are brought to the town, pile up a stack of wood all round the altar on either side thereof, and set fire to it and burn them all alive, that they may learn that the dead no longer rules this land, but that for the present I am king.

(Angrily to the CHORUS)  As for you, old men, since ye thwart my views, not for the children of Heracles alone shall ye lament but likewise for every blow that strikes his house, and ye shall ne'er forget ye are slaves and I your prince.

LEADER

Ye sons of Earth, whom Ares on a day did sow, when from the dragon's ravening jaw he had torn the teeth, up with your staves, whereon ye lean your hands, and dash out this miscreant's brains! a fellow who, without even being a Theban, but a foreigner, lords it shamefully o'er the younger folk; but my master shalt thou never be to thy joy, nor shalt thou reap the harvest of all my toil; begone with my curse upon thee! carry thy insolence back to the place whence it came. For never whilst I live, shalt thou slay these sons of Heracles; not so deep beneath the earth hath their father disappeared from his children's ken. Thou art in possession of this land which thou hast ruined, while he its benefactor has missed his just reward; and yet do I take too much upon myself because I help those I love after their death, when most they need a friend? Ah! right hand, how fain wouldst thou wield the spear, but thy weakness is a death-blow to thy fond desire; for then had I stopped thee calling me slave, and I would have governed Thebes, wherein thou art now exulting, with credit; for city sick with dissension and evil counsels thinketh not aright; otherwise it would never have accepted thee as its master.

MEGARA

Old sirs, I thank you; 'tis right that friends should feel virtuous indignation on behalf of those they love; but do not on our account vent your anger on the tyrant to your own undoing. Hear my advice, Amphitryon, if haply there appear to thee to be aught in what

I say. I love my children; strange if I did not love those whom I laboured to bring forth! Death I count a dreadful fate; but the man who wrestles with necessity I esteem a fool. Since we must die, let us do so without being burnt alive, to furnish our foes with food for merriment, which to my mind is an evil worse than death; for many a fair guerdon do we owe our family. Thine has ever been a warrior's fair fame, so 'tis not to be endured that thou shouldst die a coward's death; and my husband's reputation needs no one to witness that he would ne'er consent to save these children's lives by letting them incur the stain of cowardice; for the noble are afflicted by disgrace on account of their children, nor must I shrink from following my lord's example. As to thy hopes consider how I weigh them. Thou thinkest thy son will return from beneath the earth: who ever has come back from the dead out of the halls of Hades? Thou hast a hope perhaps of softening this man by entreaty: no, no! better to fly from one's enemy when he is so brutish, but yield to men of breeding and wisdom; for thou wilt more easily obtain mercy there by friendly overtures.

True, a thought has already occurred to me that we might by entreaty obtain a sentence of exile for the children; yet this too is misery, to compass their deliverance with dire penury as the result; for 'tis a saying that hosts look sweetly on banished friends for a day and no more. Steel thy heart to die with us, for that awaits thee after all. By thy brave soul I challenge thee, old friend; for whoso struggles hard to escape destiny shows zeal no doubt, but 'tis zeal with a taint of folly; for what must be, no one will ever avail to alter.

LEADER

If a man had insulted thee, while yet my arms were lusty, there would have been an easy way to stop him; but now am I a thing of naught; and so thou henceforth, Amphitryon, must scheme how to avert misfortune.

AMPHITRYON

'Tis not cowardice or any longing for life that hinders my dying, but my wish to save my son's children, though no doubt I am vainly wishing for impossibilities. Lo! here is my neck ready for thy sword to pierce, my body for thee to hack or hurl from the rock; only one boon I crave for both of us, O king; slay me and this hapless mother before thou slay the children, that we may not see the hideous sight, as they gasp out their lives, calling on their mother and their father's sire; for the rest work thy will, if so thou art inclined; for we have no defence against death.

MEGARA

I too implore thee add a second boon, that by thy single act thou mayst put us both under a double obligation; suffer me to deck my children in the robes of death,-first opening the palace gates, for now are we shut out,-that this at least they may obtain from their father's halls.

LYCUS

I grant it, and bid my servants undo the bolts. Go in and deck yourselves; robes I grudge not. But soon as ye have clothed yourselves, I will return to you to consign you to the nether world.  (Lycus and his retinue withdraw.)

MEGARA

Children, follow the footsteps of your hapless mother to your father's halls, where others possess his substance, though his name is still ours.  (MEGARA and her children enter the palace.)

AMPHITRYON

O Zeus, in vain it seems, did I get thee to share my bride with me; in vain used we to call thee father of my son. After all thou art less our friend than thou didst pretend. Great god as thou art, I, a mere mortal. surpass thee in true worth. For I did not betray the children of Heracles; but thou by stealth didst find thy way to my couch, taking another's wife without leave given, while to save thy own friends thou hast no skill. Either thou art a god of little sense, or else naturally unjust.  (AMPHITRYON follows MEGARA into the palace.)

CHORUS

(singing, strophe 1)

Phoebus is singing a plaintive dirge to drown his happier strains, striking with key of gold his sweet-tongued lyre; so too am I fain to sing a song of praise, a crown to all his toil, concerning him who is gone to the gloom beneath the nether world, whether I am to call him son of Zeus or of Amphitryon. For the praise of noble toils accomplished is a glory to the dead. First he cleared the grove of

Zeus of a lion, and put its skin upon his back, hiding his auburn hair in its fearful gaping jaws;

(antistrophe 1)

Then on a day, with murderous bow he wounded the race of wild Centaurs, that range the hills, slaying them with winged shafts; Peneus, the river of fair eddies, knows him well, and those far fields unharvested, and the steadings on Pelion and they who haunt the glens of Homole bordering thereupon, whence they rode forth to conquer Thessaly, arming themselves with pines for clubs; likewise he slew that dappled hind with horns of gold, that preyed upon the country-folk, glorifying Artemis, huntress queen of Oenoe;

(strophe 2)

Next he mounted on a car and tamed with the bit the steeds of Diomede, that greedily champed their bloody food at gory mangers with jaws unbridled, devouring with hideous joy the flesh of men; then crossing Hebrus' silver stream he still toiled on to perform the hests of the tyrant of Mycenae, till he came to the strand of the Malian gulf by the streams of Anaurus, where he slew with his arrows Cycnus, murderer of his guests, the savage wretch who dwelt in Amphanae;

(antistrophe 2)

Also he came to those minstrel maids, to their orchard in the west, to pluck from the leafy apple-tree its golden fruit, when he had slain the tawny dragon, whose awful coils were twined all round to guard it; and he made his way into ocean's lairs, bringing calm to men that use the oar; moreover he sought the home of Atlas, and stretched out his hands to uphold the firmament, and on his manly shoulders took the starry mansions of the gods;

(strophe 3)

Then he went through the waves of heaving Euxine against the mounted host of Amazons dwelling round Maeotis, the lake that is fed by many a stream, having gathered to his standard all his friends from Hellas, to fetch the gold-embroidered raiment of the warrior queen, a deadly quest for a girdle. And Hellas won those glorious spoils of the barbarian maid, and safe in Mycenae are they now. On Lerna's murderous hound, the many-headed hydra, he set his branding-iron, and smeared its venom on his darts, wherewith he slew the shepherd of Erytheia, a monster with three bodies;

(antistrophe 3)

And many another glorious achievement he brought to a happy issue; to Hades' house of tears hath he now sailed, the goal of his labours, where he is ending his career of toil, nor cometh he thence again.

Now is thy house left without a friend, and Charon's boat awaits thy children to bear them on that journey out of life, whence is no returning, contrary to God's law and man's justice; and it is to thy prowess that thy house is looking although thou art not here. Had I been strong and lusty, able to brandish the spear in battle's onset, my Theban compeers too, I would have stood by thy children to champion them; but now my happy youth is gone and I am left.

But lo! I see the children of Heracles who was erst so great, clad in the vesture of the grave, and his loving wife dragging her babes along at her side, and that hero's aged sire. Ah! woe is me! no longer can I stem the flood of tears that spring to my old eyes.  (MEGARA, AMPHITRYON, and the children enter from the palace.)

MEGARA

Come now, who is to sacrifice or butcher these poor children? or rob me of my wretched life? Behold! the victims are ready to be led to Hades' halls. O my children! an ill-matched company are we hurried off to die, old men and babes, and mothers, all together.

Alas! for my sad fate and my children's, whom these eyes now for the last time behold. So I gave you birth and reared you only for our foes to mock, to flout, and slay. Ah me! how bitterly my hopes have disappointed me in the expectation once formed from the words of your father.  (Addressing each of her sons in turn) To thee thy dead sire was for giving Argos; and thou wert to dwell in the halls of Eurystheus, lording it o'er the fair fruitful land of Argolis; and o'er thy head would he throw that lion's skin wherewith himself was girt. Thou wert to be king of Thebes, famed for its chariots, receiving as thy heritage my broad lands, for so thou didst coax thy father dear; and to thy hand used he to resign the carved club, his sure defence, pretending to give it thee. To thee he promised to give Oechalia, which once his archery had wasted. Thus with three principalities would your father exalt you his three sons, proud of your manliness; while I was choosing the best brides for you, scheming to link you by marriage to Athens, Thebes, and Sparta, that ye might live a happy life with a fast sheet-anchor to hold by. And now that is all vanished; fortune's breeze hath veered and given to you for brides the maidens of death in their stead, and tears to me to bathe them in; woe is me for my foolish thoughts and your grandsire here is celebrating your marriage-feast, accepting Hades as the father of your brides, a grim relationship to make.

Ah me! which of you shall I first press to my bosom, which last? on which bestow my kiss, or clasp close to me? Oh! would that like the bee with russet wing, I could collect from every source my sighs in one, and, blending them together, shed them in one copious flood! Heracles, dear husband mine, to thee I call, if haply mortal voice can make itself heard in Hades' halls; thy father and children are dying and I am doomed, I who once because of thee was counted blest as men count bliss. Come to our rescue; appear, I pray, if but as a phantom, since thy mere coming would be enough, for they are cowards compared with thee, who are slaying thy children.

AMPHITRYON

Lady, do thou prepare the funeral rites; but I, O Zeus, stretching out my hand to heaven, call on thee to help these children, if such be thy intention; for soon will any aid of thine be unavailing; and yet thou hast been oft invoked; my toil is wasted; death seems inevitable. Ye aged friends, the joys of life are few; so take heed that ye pass through it as gladly as ye may, without a thought of sorrow from morn till night; for time recks little of preserving our hopes; and, when he has busied himself on his own business, away he flies. Look at me, a man who had made mark amongst his fellows by deeds of note; yet hath fortune in a single day robbed me of it as of a feather that floats away toward the sky. know not any whose plenteous wealth and high reputation is fixed and sure; fare ye well, for now have ye seen the last of your old friend, my comrades.  (MEGARA catches sight of HERACLES approaching.)

MEGARA

Ha! old friend, is it my own, my dearest I behold? or what am I to say?

AMPHITRYON

I know not, my daughter; I too am struck dumb.

MEGARA

Is this he who, they told us, was beneath the earth?

AMPHITRYON

'Tis he, unless some day-dream mocks our sight.

MEGARA

What am I saying? What visions do these anxious eyes behold? Old man, this is none other than thy own son. Come hither, my children, cling to your father's robe, make haste to come, never loose your hold, for here is one to help you, nowise behind our saviour Zeus.

(HERACLES enters.)

HERACLES

All hail! my house, and portals of my home, how glad am I to emerge to the light and see thee. Ha! what is this? I see my children before the house in the garb of death, with chaplets on their heads, my wife amid a throng of men, and my father weeping o'er some mischance. Let me draw near to them and inquire; lady, what strange stroke of fate hath fallen on the house?

MEGARA

Dearest of all mankind to me! O ray of light appearing to thy sire! art thou safe, and is thy coming just in time to help thy dear ones?

HERACLES

What meanest thou? what is this confusion I find on my arrival, father?

MEGARA

We are being ruined; forgive me, old friend, if I have anticipated that which thou hadst a right to tell him; for woman's nature is perhaps more prone than man's to grief, and they are my children that were being led to death, which was my own lot too.

HERACLES

Great Apollo! what a prelude to thy story!

MEGARA

Dead are my brethren, dead my hoary sire.

HERACLES

How so? what befell him? who dealt the fatal blow?

MEGARA

Lycus, our splendid monarch, slew him.

HERACLES

Did he meet him in fair fight, or was the land sick and weak?

MEGARA

Aye, from faction; now is he master of the city of Cadmus with its seven gates.

HERACLES

Why hath panic fallen on thee and my aged sire?

MEGARA

He meant to kill thy father, me, and my children.

HERACLES

Why, what had he to fear from my orphan babes?

MEGARA

He was afraid they might some day avenge Creon's death.

HERACLES

What means this dress they wear, suited to the dead?

MEGARA

'Tis the garb of death we have already put on.

HERACLES

And were ye being haled to death? O woe is me!

MEGARA

Yes, deserted by every friend, and informed that thou wert dead.

HERACLES

What put such desperate thoughts into your heads?

MEGARA

That was what the heralds of Eurystheus kept proclaiming.

HERACLES

Why did ye leave my hearth and home?

MEGARA

He forced us; thy father was dragged from his bed.

HERACLES

Had he no mercy, to ill-use the old man so?

MEGARA

Mercy forsooth! that goddess and he dwell far enough apart.

HERACLES

Was I so poor in friends in my absence?

MEGARA

Who are the friends of a man in misfortune?

HERACLES

Do they make so light of my hard warring with the Minyae?

MEGARA

Misfortune, to repeat it to thee, has no friends.

HERACLES

Cast from your heads these chaplets of death, look up to the light, for instead of the nether gloom your eyes behold the welcome sun. I, meantime, since here is work for my hand, will first go raze this upstart tyrant's halls, and when I have beheaded the miscreant, I will throw him to dogs to tear; and every Theban who I find has played the traitor after my kindness, will I destroy with this victorious club; the rest will I scatter with my feathered shafts and fill Ismenus full of bloody corpses, and Dirce's clear fount shall run red with gore. For whom ought I to help rather than wife and children and aged sire? Farewell my labours! for it was in vain I accomplished them rather than succoured these. And yet I ought to die in their defence, since they for their sire were doomed; else what shall we find so noble in having fought a hydra and a lion at the hests of Eurystheus, if I make no effort to save my own children from death? No longer

I trow, as heretofore, shall I be called Heracles the victor.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

'Tis only right that parents should help their children, their aged sires, and the partners of their marriage.

AMPHITRYON

My son, 'tis like thee to show thy love for thy dear ones and thy hate for all that is hostile; only curb excessive hastiness.

HERACLES

Wherein, father, am I now showing more than fitting haste?

AMPHITRYON

The king hath a host of allies, needy villains though pretending to be rich, who sowed dissension and o'erthrew the state with a view to plundering their neighbours; for the wealth they had in their houses was all spent, dissipated by their sloth. Thou wast seen entering the city; and, that being so, beware that thou bring not thy enemies together and be slain unawares.

HERACLES

Little I reck if the whole city saw me; but chancing to see a bird perched in an ill-omened spot, from it I learnt that some trouble had befallen my house; so I purposely made my entry to the land by stealth.

AMPHITRYON

For thy lucky coming hither, go salute thy household altar, and let thy father's halls behold thy face. For soon will the king be here in person to drag away thy wife and children and murder them, and to add me to the bloody list. But if thou remain on the spot all will go well, and thou wilt profit by this security; but do not rouse thy city ere thou hast these matters well in train, my son.

HERACLES

I will do so; thy advice is good; I will enter my house.

After my return at length from the sunless den of Hades and the maiden queen of hell, I will not neglect to greet first of all the gods beneath my roof.

AMPHITRYON

Why, didst thou in very deed go to the house of Hades, my son?

HERACLES

Aye, and brought to the light that three-headed monster.

AMPHITRYON

Didst worst him in fight, or receive him from the goddess?

HERACLES

In fair fight; for I had been lucky enough to witness the rites of the initiated.

AMPHITRYON

Is the monster really lodged in the house of Eurystheus?

HERACLES

The grove of Demeter and the city of Hermione are his prison.

AMPHITRYON

Does not Eurystheus know that thou hast returned to the upper world?

HERACLES

He knows not; I came hither first to learn your news.

AMPHITRYON

How is it thou wert so long beneath the earth?

HERACLES

I stayed awhile attempting to bring back Theseus from Hades, father.

AMPHITRYON

Where is he? gone to his native land?

HERACLES

He set out for Athens right glad to have escaped from the lower world. Come, children, attend your father to the house. My entering in is fairer in your eyes, I trow, than my going out. Take heart, and no more let the tears stream from your eyes; thou too, dear wife, collect thy courage, cease from fear; let go my robe; for I cannot fly away, nor have I any wish to flee from those I love. Ah! They do not loose their hold, but cling to my garments all the more; were ye in such jeopardy? Well, I must lead them, taking them by the hand to draw them after me, like a ship when towing; for I too do not reject the care of my children; here all mankind are equal; all love their children, both those of high estate and those; who are naught; 'tis wealth that makes distinctions among them; some have, others want; but all the human race loves its offspring.

(HERACLES, MEGARA, AMPHITRYON and the children enter the palace.)

CHORUS

(singing, strophe 1)

Dear to me is youth, but old age is ever hanging o'er my head, a burden heavier than Aetna's crags, casting its pall of gloom upon my eyes. Oh! never may the wealth of Asia's kings tempt me to barter for houses stored with gold my happy youth, which is in wealth and poverty alike most fair! But old age is gloomy and deathly; I hate it; let it sink beneath the waves! Would it had never found its way to the homes and towns of mortal men, but were still drifting on forever down the wind.

(antistrophe 1)

Had the gods shown discernment and wisdom, as mortals count thesethings, men would have gotten youth twice over, a visible mark of worth amongst whomsoever found, and after death would these have retraced their steps once more to the sun-light, while the mean man would have had but a single portion of life; and thus would it have been possible to distinguish the good and the bad, just as sailors know the number of the stars amid the clouds. But, as it is, the gods have set no certain boundary 'twixt good and bad, but time's onward roll brings increase only to man's wealth.

(strophe 2)

Never will I cease to link in one the Graces and the Muses, fairest union. Never may my lines be cast among untutored boors, but ever may I find a place among the crowned choir! Yes, still the aged bard lifts up his voice of bygone memories; still is my song of the triumphs of Heracles, whether Bromius the giver of wine is nigh, or the strains of the seven-stringed lyre and the Libyan flute are rising; not yet will I cease to sing the Muses' praise, my patrons in the dance.

(antistrophe 2)

As the maids of Delos raise their song of joy, circling round the temple gates in honour of Leto's fair son, the graceful dancer; so with my old lips will sing songs of victory at thy palace-doors, song of my old age, such as sings the dying swan; for there is a goodly theme for minstrelsy; he is the son of Zeus; yet high above his noble birth tower his deeds of prowess, for his toil secured this life of calm for man, having destroyed all fearsome beasts. (AMPHITRYON comes out of the palace as Lycus and his retinue enter.)

LYCUS

Ha! Amphitryon, 'tis high time thou camest forth from the palace; ye have been too long arraying yourselves in the robes and trappings of the dead. Come, bid the wife and children of Heracles show themselves outside the house, to die on the conditions you yourselves offered.

AMPHITRYON

O king, thou dost persecute me in my misery and heapest insult upon me over and above the loss of my son; thou shouldst have been more moderate in thy zeal, though thou art my lord and master. But since thou dost impose death's stern necessity on me, needs must I acquiesce and do thy will.

LYCUS

Pray, where is Megara? where are the children of Alcmena's son?

AMPHITRYON

She, I believe, so far as I can guess from outside-

LYCUS

What grounds hast thou to base thy fancy on?

AMPHITRYON

Is sitting as a suppliant on the altar's hallowed steps.

LYCUS

Imploring them quite uselessly to save her life.

AMPHITRYON

And calling on her dead husband, quite in vain.

LYCUS

He is nowhere near, and he certainly will never come.

AMPHITRYON

No, unless perhaps a god should raise him from the dead.

LYCUS

Go to her and bring her from the palace.

AMPHITRYON

By doing so I should become an accomplice in her murder.

LYCUS

Since thou hast this scruple, I, who have left fear behind, will myself bring out the mother and her children. Follow me, servants, that we may put an end to this delay of our work to our joy. (Lycus and his servants enter the palace.)

AMPHITRYON

Then go thy way along the path of fate; for what remains, maybe another will provide. Expect for thy evil deeds to find some ill thyself. Ah! my aged friends, he is marching fairly to his doom; soon will he be entangled in the snare of the sword, thinking to slay his neighbours, the villain! I will hence, to see him fall dead; forthe sight of a foe being slain and paying the penalty of his misdeeds gives pleasure.

(AMPHITRYON follows Lycus into the palace.)

CHORUS  (singing)

Evil has changed sides; he who was erst a mighty king is now turning his life backward into the road to Hades.

Hail to thee! justice and heavenly retribution. At last hast thou reached the goal where thy death will pay the forfeit,

For thy insults against thy betters. Joy makes my tears burst forth.

There is come a retribution, which the prince of the land never once thought in his heart would happen.

Come, old friends, let us look within to see if one we know has met the fate I hope.

LYCUS (within)

Ah me! ah me!

CHORUS (singing)

Ha! how sweet to hear that opening note of his within the house; death is not far off him now.

Hark! the prince cries out in his agony; that preludes death.

LYCUS  (within)

O kingdom of Cadmus, by treachery I am perishing!

CHORUS  (singing)

Thou wert thyself for making others perish; endure thy retribution; 'tis only the penalty of thy own deeds thou art paying.

Who was he, weak son of man, that aimed his silly saying at the blessed gods of heaven with impious blasphemy, maintaining that they are weaklings after all?

Old friends, our godless foe is now no more. The house is still; let us to our dancing. Yea, for fortune smiles upon my friends as I desire.

(strophe 1)

Dances and banquets now prevail throughout the holy town of Thebes. For release from tears and respite from sorrow give birth to song. The upstart king is dead and gone; our former monarch now is prince, having made his way even from the bourn of Acheron. Hope beyond all expectation is fulfilled.

(antistrophe 1)

To heed the right and wrong is heaven's care. 'Tis their gold and their good luck that lead men's hearts astray, bringing in their train unholy tyranny. For no man ever had the courage to reflect what reverses time might bring; but, disregarding law to gratify lawlessness, he shatters in gloom the car of happiness.

(strophe 2)

Deck thee with garlands, O Ismenus! break forth into dancing, ye paved streets of our seven-gated city! come Dirce, fount of waters fair; and joined with her ye daughters of Asopus, come from your father's waves to add your maiden voices to our hymn, the victor's prize that Heracles hath won. O Pythian rock, with forests crowned, and haunts of the Muses on Helicon! make my city and her walls re-echo with cries of joy; where sprang the earth-born crop to view, a warrior-host with shields of brass, who are handing on their realm to children's children, a light divine to Thebes.

(antistrophe 2)

All hail the marriage! wherein two bridegrooms shared; the one, a mortal; the other, Zeus, who came to wed the maiden sprung from Perseus; for that marriage of thine, O Zeus, in days gone by has been proved to me a true story beyond all expectation; and time hath shown the lustre of Heracles' prowess, who emerged from caverns 'neath the earth after leaving Pluto's halls below. To me art thou a worthier lord than that base-born king, who now lets it be plainly seen in this struggle 'twixt armed warriors, whether justice still finds favour in heaven.

(The spectres of MADNESS and IRIS appear from above. The CHORUS sees them.)

Ha! see there, my old comrades! is the same wild panic fallen on us all; what phantom is this I see hovering o'er the house? Fly, fly, bestir thy tardy steps! begone! away! away! O saviour prince, avert calamity from me!

IRIS

Courage, old men! she, whom you see, is Madness, daughter of

Night, and I am Iris, the handmaid of the gods. We have not come to do your city any hurt, but against the house of one man only is our warfare, even against him whom they call the son of Zeus and Alcmena.

For until he had finished all his grievous toils, Destiny was preserving him, nor would father Zeus ever suffer me or Hera to harm him. But now that he hath accomplished the labours of Eurystheus, Hera is minded to brand him with the guilt of shedding kindred blood by slaying his own children, and I am one with her. Come then, maid unwed, child of murky Night, harden thy heart relentlessly, send forth frenzy upon him, confound his mind even to the slaying of his children, drive him, goad him wildly on his mad career, shake out the sails of death, that when he has sent o'er Acheron's ferry that fair group of children by his own murderous hand, he may learn to know how fiercely against him the wrath of Hera burns and may also experience mine; otherwise, if he escape punishment, the gods will become as naught, while man's power will grow.

MADNESS

Of noble parents was I born, the daughter of Night, sprung from the blood of Uranus; and these prerogatives I hold, not to use them in anger against friends, nor have I any joy in visiting the homes of men; and fain would I counsel Hera, before I see her err, and thee too, if ye will hearken to my words. This man, against whose house thou art sending me, has made himself a name alike in heaven and earth; for, after taming pathless wilds and raging sea, he by his single might raised up again the honours of the gods when sinking before man's impiety; wherefore I counsel thee, do not wish him dire mishaps.

IRIS

Spare us thy advice on Hera's and my schemes.

MADNESS

I seek to turn thy steps into the best path instead of into this one of evil.

IRIS

'Twas not to practice self-control that the wife of Zeus sent thee hither.

MADNESS

I call the sun-god to witness that herein I am acting againstmy will; but if indeed I must forthwith serve thee and Hera and follow you in full cry as hounds follow the huntsman, why go I will; nor shall ocean with its moaning waves, nor the earthquake, nor the thunderbolt with blast of agony be half so furious as the headlong rush I will make into the breast of Heracles; through his roof will I burst my way and swoop upon his house, after first slaying his children; nor shall their murderer know that he is killing his own-begotten babes, till he is released from my madness. Behold him! see how even now he is wildly tossing his head at the outset, and rolling his eyes fiercely from side to side without word; nor can he control his panting breath; but like a bull in act to charge, he bellows fearfully, calling on the goddesses of nether hell. Soon will I rouse thee to yet wilder dancing and sound a note of terror in thine ear. Soar away, O Iris, to Olympus on thy honoured course; while I unseen will steal into the halls of Heracles.

(IRIS and MADNESS vanish.)

CHORUS  (chanting)

Alas! alas! lament, O city; the son of Zeus, thy fairest bloom, is being cut down.

Woe is thee, Hellas! that wilt cast from thee thy benefactor, and destroy him as he madly, wildly dances where no pipe is heard.

She is mounted on her car, the queen of sorrow and sighing, and is goading on her steeds, as if for outrage, the Gorgon child of Night, with hundred hissing serpent-heads, Madness of the flashing eyes.

Soon hath the god changed his good fortune; soon will his children breathe their last, slain by a father's hand.

Ah me! alas! soon will vengeance, mad, relentless, lay low by cruel death thy unhappy son, O Zeus, exacting a full penalty.

Alas, O house! the fiend begins her dance of death without the cymbals’ crash, with no glad waving of the wine-god's staff.

Woe to these halls toward bloodshed she moves, and not to pour libations of the juice of the grape.

O children, haste to fly; that is the chant of death her piping plays.

Ah, yes! he is chasing the children. Never, ah! never will Madness lead her revel rout in vain.

Ah misery! Ah me! how I lament that aged sire, that mother too that bore his babes in vain.

Look! look!

A tempest rocks the house; the roof is falling with it. Oh! what art thou doing, son of Zeus? Thou art sending hell's confusion against thy house, as erst did Pallas on Enceladus.  (A MESSENGER enters from the palace.)

MESSENGER

Ye hoary men of eld!

CHORUS

Why, oh! why this loud address to me?

MESSENGER

Awful is the sight within!

CHORUS

No need for me to call another to announce that.

MESSENGER

Dead lie the children.

CHORUS

Alas!

MESSENGER

Ah weep! for here is cause for weeping.

CHORUS

A cruel murder, wrought by parents' hands!

MESSENGER

No words can utter more than we have suffered.

CHORUS

What, canst thou prove this piteous ruin was a father's outrage on his children? Tell me how these heaven-sent woes came rushing on the house; say how the children met their sad mischance.

MESSENGER

Victims to purify the house were stationed before the altar of Zeus, for Heracles had slain and cast from his halls the king of the land. There stood his group of lovely children, with his sireand Megara; and already the basket was being passed round the altar, and we were keeping holy silence. But just as Alcmena's son was bringing the torch in his right hand to dip it in the holy water, he stopped without a word. And as their father lingered, his children looked at him; and lo! he was changed; his eyes were rolling; he was distraught; his eyeballs were bloodshot and starting from their sockets, and foam was oozing down his bearded cheek. Anon he spoke, laughing the while a madman's laugh, "Father, why should I sacrifice before I have slain Eurystheus, why kindle the purifying flame and have the toil twice over, when I might at one stroke so fairly end it all? Soon as I have brought the head of Eurystheus hither, I will cleanse my hands for those already slain. Spill the water, cast the baskets from your hands. Ho! give me now my bow and club! To famed Mycenae will I go; crow-bars and pick-axes must I take, for I will heave from their very base with iron levers those city-walls which the Cyclopes squared with red plumb-line and mason's tools."

Then he set out, and though he had no chariot there, he thought he had, and was for mounting to its seat, and using a goad as though his fingers really held one. A twofold feeling filled his servants' breasts, half amusement, and half fear; and one looking to his neighbour said, "Is our master making sport for us, or is he mad?" But he the while was pacing to and fro in his house; and, rushing into the men's chamber, he thought he had reached the city of Nisus, albeit he had gone into his own halls. So he threw himself upon the floor, as if he were there, and made ready to feast. But after waiting a brief space he began saying he was on his way to the plains amid the valleys of the Isthmus; and then stripping himself of his mantle, he fell to competing with an imaginary rival, o'er whom he proclaimed himself victor with his own voice, calling on imaginary spectators to listen.

Next, fancy carrying him to Mycenae, he was uttering fearful threats against Eurystheus. Meantime his father caught him by his stalwart arm, and thus addressed him, "My son, what meanest thou hereby? What strange doings are these? Can it be that the blood of thy late victims has driven thee frantic?" But he, supposing it was the father of Eurystheus striving in abject supplication to touch his hand, thrust him aside, and then against his own children aimed his bow and made ready his quiver, thinking to slay the sons of Eurystheus. And they in wild affright darted hither and thither, one to his hapless mother's skirts, another to the shadow of a pillar, while a third cowered 'neath the altar like a bird. Then cried their mother, "O father, what art thou doing? dost mean to slay thy children?" Likewise his aged sire and all the gathered servants cried aloud. But he, hunting the child round and round, the column, in dreadful circles, and coming face to face with him shot him to the heart; and he fell upon his back, sprinkling the stone pillars with blood as he gasped out his life. Then did Heracles shout for joy and boasted loud, "Here lies one of Eurystheus' brood dead at my feet, atoning for his father's hate." Against a second did he aim his bow, who had crouched at the altar's foot thinking to escape unseen. But ere he fired, the poor child threw himself at his father's knees, and, flinging his hand to reach his beard or neck, cried, "Oh! slay me not, dear father mine! I am thy child, thine own; 'tis no son of Eurystheus thou wilt slay."

But that other, with savage Gorgon-scowl, as the child now stood in range of his baleful archery, smote him on the head, as smites a smith his molten iron, bringing down his club upon the fair-haired boy, and crushed the bones. The second caught, away he hies to add a third victim to the other twain. But ere he could, the poor mother caught up her babe and carried him within the house and shut the doors; forthwith the madman, as though he really were at the Cyclopean walls, prizes open the doors with levers, and, hurling down their posts, with one fell shaft laid low his wife and child. Then in wild career he starts to slay his aged sire; but lo! there came a phantom,-so it seemed to us on-lookers,-Of Pallas, with plumed helm, brandishing a spear; and she hurled a rock against the breast of Heracles, which stayed him from his frenzied thirst for blood and plunged him into sleep; to the ground he fell, smiting his back against a column that had fallen on the floor in twain when the roof fell in. Thereon we rallied from our flight, and with the old man's aid bound him fast with knotted cords to the pillar, that on his awakening he might do no further evil. So there he sleeps, poor wretch! a sleep that is not blest, having murdered wife and children; nay, for my part know not any son of man more miserable than he. (The MESSENGER withdraws.)

CHORUS (singing)

That murder wrought by the daughters of Danaus, whereof my native Argos wots, was formerly the most famous and notorious in Hellas; but this hath surpassed and outdone those previous horrors.

I could tell of the murder of that poor son of Zeus, whom Procne, mother of an only child, slew and offered to the Muses; but thou hadst three children, wretched parent, and all of them hast thou in thy frenzy slain. What groans or wails, what funeral dirge, or chant of death am I to raise? Alas and woe! see, the bolted doors of the lofty palace are being rolled apart. Ah me! behold these children lying dead before their wretched father, who is sunk in awful slumber after shedding their blood. Round him are bonds and cords, made fast with many a knot about the body of Heracles, and lashed to the stone columns of his house. While he, the aged sire, like mother-bird wailing her unfledged brood, comes hasting hither with halting steps on his bitter journey.

(The central doors of the palace have opened and have disclosed HERACLES lying asleep, bound to a shattered column. AMPHITRYON steps out. The following lines between AMPHITRYON and the CHORUS are chanted responsively.)

AMPHITRYON

Softly, softly! ye aged sons of Thebes, let him sleep on and forget his sorrows.

CHORUS

For thee, old friend, I weep and mourn, for the children too and that victorious chief.

AMPHITRYON

Stand further off, make no noise nor outcry, rouse him not from his calm deep slumber.

CHORUS

O horrible! all this blood-

AMPHITRYON

Hush, hush! ye will be my ruin.

CHORUS

That he has spilt is rising up against him.

AMPHITRYON

Gently raise your dirge of woe, old friends; lest he wake, and, bursting his bonds, destroy the city, rend his sire, and dash his house to pieces.

CHORUS

I cannot, cannot-

AMPHITRYON

Hush! let me note his breathing; come, let me put my ear close.

CHORUS

Is he sleeping?

AMPHITRYON

Aye, that is he, a deathly sleep, having slain wife and children with the arrows of his twanging bow.

CHORUS

Ah! mourn-

AMPHITRYON

I do.

CHORUS

The children's death;

AMPHITRYON

Ah me!

CHORUS

And thy own son's doom.

AMPHITRYON

Ah misery!

CHORUS

Old friend-

AMPHITRYON

Hush! hush! he is turning, he is waking! Oh Oh! let me hide myself beneath the covert of yon roof.

CHORUS

Courage! darkness still broods o'er thy son's eye.

AMPHITRYON

Oh! beware; 'tis not that I shrink from leaving the light after my miseries, poor wretch! but should he slay me that am his father, then will he be devising woe on woe, and to the avenging curse will add a parent's blood.

CHORUS

Well for thee hadst thou died in that day, when, to win thy wife, thou didst go forth to exact vengeance for her slain brethren by sacking the Taphians' sea-beat town.

AMPHITRYON

Fly, fly, my aged friends, haste from before the palace, escape his waking fury! For soon will he heap up fresh carnage on the old, ranging wildly once more through the streets of Thebes.

CHORUS

O Zeus, why hast thou shown such savage hate against thine own son and plunged him in this sea of troubles?

HERACLES  (waking)

Aha! my breath returns; I am alive; and my eyes see, opening on the sky and earth and yon sun's darting beam; but how my senses reel! in what strange turmoil am I plunged! my fevered breath in quick spasmodic gasps escapes my lungs. How now? why am I lying here, made fast with cables like a ship, my brawny chest and arms tied to a shattered piece of masonry, with corpses for my neighbours; while o'er the floor my bow and arrows are scattered, that erst like trusty squires to my arm both kept me safe and were kept safe of me?

Surely I am not come a second time to Hades' halls, having just returned from thence for Eurystheus? No, I do not see Sisyphus with his stone, or Pluto, or his queen, Demeter's child. Surely I am distraught; I cannot remember where I am. Ho, there! which of my friends is near or far to help me in my ignorance? For I have no clear knowledge of things once familiar.

AMPHITRYON

My aged friends, shall I approach the scene of my sorrow?

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Yes, and let me go with thee, nor desert thee in thy trouble.

HERACLES

Father, why dost thou weep and veil thy eyes, standing aloof from thy beloved son?

AMPHITRYON

My child! mine still, for all thy misery.

HERACLES

Why, what is there so sad in my case that thou dost weep?

AMPHITRYON

That which might make any of the gods weep, were he to suffer so.

HERACLES

A bold assertion that, but thou art not yet explaining what has happened.

AMPHITRYON

Thine own eyes see that, if by this time thou are restored to thy senses.

HERACLES

Fill in thy sketch if any change awaits my life.

AMPHITRYON

I will explain, if thou art no longer mad as a fiend of hell.

HERACLES

God help us! what suspicions these dark hints of thine again excite!

AMPHITRYON

I am still doubtful whether thou art in thy sober senses.

HERACLES

I never remember being mad.

AMPHITRYON

Am I to loose my son, old friends, or what?

HERACLES

Loose and say who bound me; for I feel shame at this.

AMPHITRYON

Rest content with what thou knowest of thy woes; the rest forego.

HERACLES

Enough! I have no wish to probe thy silence.

AMPHITRYON

O Zeus, dost thou behold these deeds proceeding from the throne of Hera?

HERACLES

What! have I suffered something from her enmity?

AMPHITRYON

A truce to the goddess! attend to thy own troubles.

HERACLES

I am undone; what mischance wilt thou unfold?

AMPHITRYON

See here the corpses of thy children.

HERACLES

O horror! what hideous sight is here? ah me!

AMPHITRYON

My son, against thy children hast thou waged unnatural war.

HERACLES

War! what meanst thou? who killed these?

AMPHITRYON

Thou and thy bow and some god, whoso he be that is to blame.

HERACLES

What sayst thou? what have I done? Speak, father, thou messenger of evil.

AMPHITRYON

Thou wert distraught; 'tis a sad explanation thou art asking.

HERACLES

Was it I that slew my wife also?

AMPHITRYON

Thy own unaided arm hath done all this.

HERACLES

Ah, woe is me! a cloud of sorrow wraps me round.

AMPHITRYON

The reason this that I lament thy fate.

HERACLES

Did I dash my house to pieces or incite others thereto?

AMPHITRYON

Naught know I save this, that thou art utterly undone.

HERACLES

Where did my frenzy seize me? where did it destroy me?

AMPHITRYON

In the moment thou wert purifying thyself with fire at the altar.

HERACLES

Ah me! why do I spare my own life when I have taken that of my dear children? Shall I not hasten to leap from some sheer rock, or aim the sword against my heart and avenge my children's blood, or burn my body in the fire and so avert from my life the infamy which now awaits me?

But hither I see Theseus coming to check my deadly counsels, my kinsman and friend. Now shall I stand revealed, and the dearest of my friends will see the pollution I have incurred by my children's murder.

Ah, woe is me! what am I to do? Where can I find release from my sorrows? shall I take wings or plunge beneath the earth? Come, let me veil my head in darkness; for I am ashamed of the evil I have done, and, since for these I have incurred fresh blood-guiltiness, I would fain not harm the innocent.

(THESEUS and his retinue enter.)

THESEUS

I am come, and others with me, young warriors from the land of Athens, encamped by the streams of Asopus, to help thy son, old friend. For a rumour reached the city of the Erechtheidae, that Lycus had usurped the sceptre of this land and was become your enemy even to battle. Wherefore I came making recompense for the former kindness of Heracles in saving me from the world below, if haply ye have any need of such aid as I or my allies can give, old prince.

Ha! what means this heap of dead upon the floor? Surely I have not delayed too long and come too late to check new ills? Who slew these children? whose wife is this I see? Boys do not go to battle; nay, it must be some other strange mischance I here discover.

(The following lines between THESEUS and AMPHITRYON are chanted responsively.)

AMPHITRYON

O king, whose home is that olive-clad hill!

THESEUS

Why this piteous prelude in addressing me?

AMPHITRYON

Heaven has afflicted us with grievous suffering.

THESEUS

Whose be these children, o'er whom thou weepest?

AMPHITRYON

My own son's children, woe to him! their father and butcher both was he, hardening his heart to the bloody deed.

THESEUS

Hush good words only!

AMPHITRYON

I would I could obey!

THESEUS

What dreadful words!

AMPHITRYON

Fortune has spread her wings, and we are ruined, ruined.

THESEUS

What meanest thou? what hath he done?

AMPHITRYON

Slain them in a wild fit of frenzy with arrows dipped in the venom of the hundred-headed hydra.

THESEUS

This is Hera's work; but who lies there among the dead, old man?

AMPHITRYON

My son, my own enduring son, that marched with gods to Phlegra's plain, there to battle with giants and slay them, warrior that he was.

THESEUS

Ah, woe for him! whose fortune was e'er so curst as his?

AMPHITRYON

Never wilt thou find another that hath borne a larger share of suffering or been more fatally deceived.

THESEUS

Why doth he veil his head, poor wretch, in his robe?

AMPHITRYON

He is ashamed to meet thine eye; his kinsman's kind intent and his children's blood make him abashed.

THESEUS

But I come to sympathize; uncover him.

AMPHITRYON

My son, remove that mantle from thine eyes, throw it from thee, show thy fare unto the sun; a counterpoise to weeping is battling for the mastery. In suppliant wise I entreat thee, as I grasp thy beard, thy knees, thy hands, and let fall the tear from my old eyes.

O my child! restrain thy savage lion-like temper, for thou art rushing forth on an unholy course of bloodshed, eager to join woe to woe.

THESEUS

Ho! To thee I call who art huddled there in thy misery, show to they friends thy face; for no darkness is black enough to hide thy sad mischance. Why dost thou wave thy hand at me, signifying murder?

Is it that I may not be polluted by speaking with thee? If I share thy misfortune, what is that to me? For if I too had luck in days gone by, must refer it to the time when thou didst bring me safe from the dead to the light of life. I hate a friend whose gratitude grows old; one who ready to enjoy his friends' prosperity but unwilling to sail in the same ship with them when their fortune lours. Arise, unveil thy head, poor wretch! and look on me. The gallant soul endures without a word such blows as heaven deals.

HERACLES

O Theseus, didst thou witness this struggle with my children?

THESEUS

I heard of it, and now I see the horrors thou meanest.

HERACLES

Why then hast thou unveiled my head to the sun?

THESEUS

Why have I? Thou, a man, canst not pollute what is of God.

HERACLES

Fly, luckless wretch, from my unholy taint.

THESEUS

The avenging fiend goes not forth from friend to friend.

HERACLES

For this I thank thee; I do not regret the service I did thee.

THESEUS

While I, for kindness then received, now show my pity for thee.

HERACLES

Ah yes! I am piteous, a murderer of my sons.

THESEUS

I weep for thee in thy changed fortunes.

HERACLES

Didst ever find another more afflicted?

THESEUS

Thy misfortunes reach from earth to heaven.

HERACLES

Therefore am I resolved on death.

THESEUS

Dost thou suppose the gods attend to these thy threats?

HERACLES

Remorseless hath heaven been to me; so I will prove the like to it.

THESEUS

Hush! lest thy presumption add to thy sufferings.

HERACLES

My barque is freighted full with sorrow; there is no room to stow aught further.

THESEUS

What wilt thou do? whither is thy fury drifting thee?

HERACLES

I will die and return to that world below whence I have just come.

THESEUS

Such language is fit for any common fellow.

HERACLES

Ah! thine is the advice of one outside sorrow's pale.

THESEUS

Are these indeed the words of Heracles, the much-enduring?

HERACLES

Though never so much as this. Endurance must have a limit.

THESEUS

Is this man's benefactor, his chiefest friend?

HERACLES

Man brings no help to me; no! Hera has her way.

THESEUS

Never will Hellas suffer thee to die through sheer perversity.

HERACLES

Hear me a moment, that I may enter the lists with words in answer to thy admonitions; and I will unfold to thee why life nowas well as formerly has been unbearable to me. First I am the son of a man who incurred the guilt of blood, before he married my mother Alcmena, by slaying her aged sire. Now when the foundation is badly laid at birth, needs must the race be cursed with woe; and Zeus, whoever this Zeus may be, begot me as a butt for Hera's hate; yet be not thou vexed thereat, old man; for thee rather than Zeus do I regard as my father. Then whilst I was yet being suckled, that bride of Zeus did foist into my cradle fearsome snakes to compass my death. After I was grown to man's estate, of all the toils I then endured what need to tell? of all the lions, Typhons triple-bodied, and giants that I slew; or of the battle I won against the hosts of four-legged Centaurs? or how when I had killed the hydra, that monster with a ring of heads with power to grow again, I passed through countless other toils besides and came unto the dead to fetch to the light at the bidding of Eurystheus the three-headed hound, hell's porter. Last, ah, woe is me have I perpetrated this bloody deed to crown the sorrows of my house with my children's murder. To this sore strait am I come; no longer may I dwell in Thebes, the city that I love; for suppose I stay, to what temple or gathering of friends shall I repair? For mine is no curse that invites address. Shall I to Argos? how can I, when I am an exile from my country? Well, is there a single other city I can fly to?

And if there were, am I to be looked at askance as a marked man, branded by cruel stabbing tongues, "Is not this the son of Zeus that once murdered wife and children? Plague take him from the land!"

Now to one who was erst called happy, such changes are a grievous thing; though he who is always unfortunate feels no such pain, for sorrow is his birthright. This, methinks, is the piteous pass I shall one day come to; for earth will cry out forbidding me to touch her, the sea and the river-springs will refuse me a crossing, and I shall become like Ixion who revolves in chains upon that wheel. Wherefore this is best, that henceforth I be seen by none of the Hellenes, amongst whom in happier days I lived in bliss. What right have I to live?

What profit can I have in the possession of a useless, impious life?

So let that noble wife of Zeus break forth in dancing, beating with buskined foot on heaven's bright floor; for now hath she worked her heart's desire in utterly confounding the chiefest of Hellas' sons.

Who would pray to such a goddess? Her jealousy of Zeus for his love of a woman hath destroyed the benefactors of Hellas, guiltless though they were.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

This is the work of none other of the gods than the wife of Zeus; thou art right in that surmise.

THESEUS

I cannot counsel you to die rather than to go on suffering.

There is not a man alive that hath wholly 'scaped misfortune's taint, nor any god either, if what poets sing is true. Have they not intermarried in ways that law forbids? Have they not thrown fathers into ignominious chains to gain the sovereign power? Still they inhabit Olympus and brave the issue of their crimes. And yet what shalt thou say in thy defence, if thou, child of man, dost kick against the pricks of fate, while they do not? Nay, then, leave Thebes in compliance with the law, and come with me to the city of Pallas. There, when I have purified thee of thy pollution, will I give thee temples and the half of all I have. Yea, I will give thee all those presents I received from thecitizens for saving their children, seven sons and daughters seven, on the day I slew the bull of Crete; for I have plots of land assigned me throughout the country; these shall henceforth be called after thee by men, whilst thou livest; and at thy death, when thou art gone to Hades' halls, the city of Athens shall unite in exalting thy honour with sacrifices and a monument of stone. For 'tis a noble crown for citizens to win from Hellas, even a reputation fair, by helping a man of worth. This is the return that I will make thee for saving me, for now art thou in need of friends. But when heaven delights to honour a man, he has no need of friends; for the god's aid, when he chooses to give it, is enough.

HERACLES

Alas! this is quite beside the question of my troubles.

For my part, I do not believe that the gods indulge in unholy unions; and as for putting fetters on parents' hands, I have never thought that worthy of belief, nor will I now be so persuaded, nor again that one god is naturally lord and master of another. For the deity, if he be really such, has no wants; these are miserable fictions of the poets. But I, for all my piteous plight, reflected whether I should let myself be branded as a coward for giving up my life. For whoso schooleth not his frail mortal nature to bear fate's buffets as he ought, will never be able to withstand even a man's weapon. I will harden my heart against death and seek thy city, with grateful thanks for all thou offerest me. (He weeps.) Of countless troubles have I tasted, God knows, but never yet did faint at any or shed a single tear; nay, nor ever dreamt that I should come to this, to let the tear-drop fall. But now, it seems, I must be fortune's slave. Well, let it pass; old father mine, thou seest me go forth to exile, and in me beholdest my own children's murderer. Give them burial and lay them out in death with the tribute of a tear, for the law forbids my doing so. Rest their heads upon their mother's bosom and fold them in her arms, sad pledges of our union, whom I, alas! Unwittingly did slay. And when thou hast buried these dead, live on here still, in bitterness maybe, but still constrain thy soul to share my sorrows.

O children! he who begat you, your own father, hath been your destroyer, and ye have had no profit of my triumphs, all my restless toil to win you a fair name in life, a glorious guerdon from a sire. Thee too, unhappy wife, this hand hath slain, a poor return to make thee for preserving mine honour so safe, for all the weary watch thou long hast kept within my house. Alas for you, my wife, my sons! and woe for me, how sad my lot, cut off from wife and child! Ah! these kisses,bitter-sweet! these weapons which 'tis pain to own! I am not sure whether to keep or let them go; dangling at my side they thus will say, "With us didst thou destroy children and wife; we are thy children's slayers, and thou keepest us." Shall I carry them after that? what answer can I make? Yet, am I to strip me of these weapons, the comrades of my glorious career in Hellas, and put myself thereby in the power of my foes, to die a death of shame? No! I must not let them go, but keep them, though it grieve me. In one thing, Theseus, help my misery; come to Argos with me and aid in settling my reward for bringing Cerberus thither; lest, if I go all alone, my sorrow for my sons do me some hurt.

O land of Cadmus, and all ye folk of Thebes! cut off your hair, and mourn with me; go to my children's burial, and with united dirge lament alike the dead and me; for on all of us hath Hera inflicted the same cruel blow of destruction.

THESEUS

Rise, unhappy man! thou hast had thy fill of tears.

HERACLES

I cannot rise; my limbs are rooted here.

THESEUS

Yea, even the strong are o'erthrown by misfortunes.

HERACLES

Ah! would I could grow into a stone upon this spot, oblivious of trouble!

THESEUS

Peace! give thy hand to a friend and helper.

HERACLES

Nay, let me not wipe off the blood upon thy robe.

THESEUS

Wipe it off and spare not; I will not say thee nay.

HERACLES

Reft of my own sons, I find thee as a son to me.

THESEUS

Throw thy arm about my neck; I will be thy guide.

HERACLES

A pair of friends in sooth are we, but one a man of sorrows.

Ah! aged sire, this is the kind of man to make a friend.

AMPHITRYON

Blest in her sons, the country that gave him birth!

HERACLES

O Theseus, turn me back again to see my babes.

THESEUS

What charm dost think to find in this to soothe thy soul?

HERACLES

I long to do so, and would fain embrace my sire.

AMPHITRYON

Here am I, my son; thy wish is no less dear to me.

THESEUS

Hast thou so short a memory for thy troubles?

HERACLES

All that I endured of yore was easier to bear than this.

THESEUS

If men see thee play the woman, they will scoff.

HERACLES

Have I by living grown so abject in thy sight? 'twas not so once, methinks.

THESEUS

Aye, too much so; for how dost show thyself the glorious Heracles of yore?

HERACLES

What about thyself? what kind of hero wert thou when in trouble in the world below?

THESEUS

I was worse than anyone as far as courage went.

HERACLES

How then canst thou say of me, that I am abased by my troubles?

THESEUS

Forward!

HERACLES

Farewell, my aged sire!

AMPHITRYON

Farewell to thee, my son!

HERACLES

Bury my children as I said.

AMPHITRYON

But who will bury me, my son?

HERACLES

I will.

AMPHITRYON

When wilt thou come?

HERACLES

After thou hast buried my children.

AMPHITRYON

How?

HERACLES

I will fetch thee from Thebes to Athens. But carry my children within, a grievous burden to the earth. And I, after ruining my house by deeds of shame, will follow in the wake of Theseus, totally destroyed. Whoso prefers wealth or might to the possession of good friends, thinketh amiss.

(THESEUS and his attendants lead HERACLES away.)

CHORUS  (chanting)

With grief and many a bitter tear we go our way, robbed of all we prized most dearly.

THE END

WOMEN OF TRACHIS INTRODUCTION

The Women of Trachis (date disputed from 450-424 BC) sees us take a brief break from Euripides and see what Sophocles had to add to the Herculean saga. Though it is worth noting that The Trachiniae is often considered to be Sophocles' most 'Euripidean' play.

In many ways this instalment of the Heracles chronicles can be held up as something of a 'stock' Greek tragedy; there is no obvious 'bad guy', there is no lovable protagonist, there is no great evil committed, there is merely the inexorable turning of cogs that leads us onto heartbreaking and, retrospectively, totally unnecessary and entirely avoidable tragedy.

As Heracles dealt with our eponymous hero's first matrimonial union, Women of Trachis deals with his last (well, his last mortal) marriage. As with the former play, the scene is set with Heracles' family eagerly awaiting his return from a lengthy sojourn away indulging in some fashion of macho myth-making. The difference being that this time the setting isn't Thebes, but as the title suggests, Trachis.

And, again with a nod to the 'stock' element, Heracles' arrival home from his travels precipitates jealousy, intrigue, duplicity, magic-potions and the fulfilment of one of those ambiguous prophecies without which a Greek tragedy just isn't the same.

And while all this talk of the 'stock' may make you think The Trachiniae as somehow lacking in verve or vim, elegance or élan – nothing could be further from the truth. It is a neat, beautifully balanced play of such incisive quality that the way it heaps woe upon woe – even though the oncoming tragedy is clear for all to see – is done with a cut and thrust that makes it a pleasure to behold.

Though it might lack some of the twists, turns and schizophrenic characters of some of Sophocles' other plays, it is a vivid and vivacious piece of verse that sets down on paper the most important, though by no means best known, story of Heracles' life.

THE TRACHINIAE (WOMEN OF TRACHIS)

By Sophocles

Translated by R. C. Jebb

Dramatis Personae

DEIANEIRA

NURSE

HYLLUS, son of HERACLES and DEIANEIRA

MESSENGER

LICHAS, the herald of HERACLES

HERACLES

AN OLD MAN

CHORUS OF TRACHINIAN MAIDENS

[Scene:— At Trachis, before the house of HERACLES.

Enter DEIANEIRA from the house, accompanied by the NURSE.]

DEIANEIRA

THERE is a saying among men, put forth of old, that thou canst not rightly judge whether a mortal’s lot is good or evil, ere he die. But I, even before I have passed to the world of death, know well that my life is sorrowful and bitter; I, who in the house of my father Oeneus, while yet I dwelt at Pleuron, had such fear of bridals as never vexed any maiden of Aetolia. For my wooer was a river-god, Achelous, who in three shapes was ever asking me from my sire, — coming now as a bull in bodily form, now as serpent with sheeny coils, now with trunk of man and front of ox, while from a shaggy beard the streams of fountain-water flowed abroad. With the fear of such a suitor before mine eyes, I was always praying in my wretchedness that I might die, or ever I should come near to such a bed.

But at last, to my joy, came the glorious son of Zeus and Alcmena; who dosed with him in combat, and delivered me. How the fight was waged, I cannot clearly tell, I know not; if there be any one who watched that sight without terror, such might speak: I, as I sat there, was distraught with dread, lest beauty should bring me sorrow at the last. But finally the Zeus of battles ordained well, — if well indeed it be: for since I have been joined to Heracles as his chosen bride, fear after fear hath haunted me on his account; one night brings a trouble, and the next night, in turn, drives it out. And then children were born to us; whom he has seen only as the husbandman sees his distant

field, which he visits at seedtime, and once again at harvest. Such was the life that kept him journeying to and fro, in the service of a certain master.

But now, when he hath risen above those trials, — now it is that my anguish is sorest. Ever since he slew the valiant Iphitus, we have been dwelling here in Trachis, exiles from our home, and the guests of stranger; but where he is, no one knows; I only know that he is gone, and hath pierced my heart with cruel pangs for him. I am almost sure that some evil hath befallen him; it is no short space that hath passed, but ten long months, and then five more, — and still no message from him. Yes, there has been some dread mischance; — witness that tablet which he left with me ere he went forth: oft do I pray to the gods that I may not have received it for my sorrow.

NURSE

Deianeira, my mistress, many a time have I marked thy bitter tears and lamentations, as thou bewailedst the going forth of Heracles; but now, — if it be meet to school the free-born with the counsels of a slave, and if I must say what behoves thee, — why, when thou art so rich in sons, dost thou send no one of them to seek thy lord; — Hyllus, before all, who might well go on that errand, if he cared that there should be tidings of his father’s welfare? Lo! there he comes, speeding towards the house with timely step; if, then, thou deemest that I speak in season, thou canst use at once my counsel, and the man.

(HYLLUS comes in from the side.)

DEIANEIRA

My child, my son, wise words may fall, it seems, from humble lips; this woman is a slave, but hath spoken in the spirit of the free.

HYLLUS

How, mother? Tell me, if it may be told.

DEIANEIRA

It brings thee shame, she saith, that, when thy father hath been so long a stranger, thou hast not sought to learn where he is.

HYLLUS

Nay, I know, — if rumour can be trusted.

DEIANEIRA

And in what region, my child, doth rumour place him?

HYLLUS

Last year, they say, through all the months, he toiled as bondman to Lydian woman.

DEIANEIRA

If he bore that, then no tidings can surprise.

HYLLUS

Well, he has been delivered from that, as I hear.

DEIANEIRA

Where, then, is he reported to be now, — alive or dead?

HYLLUS

He is waging or planning a war, they say, upon Euboea, the realm of Eurytus.

DEIANEIRA

Knowest thou, my son, that he hath left with me sure oracles touching that land?

HYLLUS

What are they, mother? I know not whereof thou speakest.

DEIANEIRA

That either he shall meet his death, or, having achieved this task, shall have rest thenceforth, for all his days to come. So, my child, when his fate is thus trembling in the scale, wilt thou not go to succour him? For we are saved, if he find safety, or we perish with him.

HYLLUS

Ay, I will go, my mother; and, had I known the import of these prophecies, I had been there long since; but, as it was, my father’s wonted fortune suffered me not to feel fear for him, or to be anxious overmuch. Now that I have the knowledge, I will spare no pains to learn the whole truth in this matter.

DEIANEIRA

Go, then, my son; be the seeker ne’er so late, he is rewarded if he learn tidings of joy.

(HYLLUS departs as the CHORUS OF TRACHINIAN MAIDENS enters. They are freeborn young women of Trachis who are friends and confidantes of DEIANEIRA. She remains during their opening choral song.)

CHORUS(singing)

(strophe 1)

Thou whom Night brings forth at the moment when she is despoiled of her starry crown, and lays to rest in thy splendour, tell me, pray thee, O Sun-god, tell me where abides Alcmena’s son? Thou glorious lord of flashing light, say, is he threading the straits of the sea, or hath he found an abode on either continent? Speak, thou who seest as none else can see!

(antistrophe 1)

For Deianeira, as I hear, hath ever an aching heart; she, the battle-prize of old, is now like some bird lorn of its mate; she can never lull her yearning, nor stay her tears; haunted by a sleepless fear for her absent lord, she pines on her anxious, widowed couch, miserable in her foreboding of mischance.

(strophe 2)

As one may see billow after billow driven over the wide deep by the tireless south-wind or the north, so the trouble of his life, stormy as the Cretan sea, now whirls back the son of Cadmus, now lifts him to honour. But some god ever saves him from the house of death, and suffers him not to fail.

(antistrophe 2)

Lady, I praise not this thy mood; with all reverence will I speak, yet in reproof. Thou dost not well, I say, to kill fair hope by fretting; remember that the son of Cronus himself, the all-disposing king, hath not appointed a painless lot for mortals. Sorrow and joy come round to all, as the Bear moves in his circling paths.

(epode)

Yea, starry night abides not with men, nor tribulation, nor wealth; in a moment it is gone from us, and another hath his turn of gladness, and of bereavement. So would I wish thee also, the Queen, to keep that prospect ever in thy thoughts; for when hath Zeus been found so careless of his children?

DEIANEIRA

Ye have heard of my trouble, I think, and that hath brought you here; but the anguish which consumes my heart — ye are strangers to that; and never may ye learn it by suffering! Yes, the tender plant grows in those sheltered regions of its own! and the Sun-god’s heat vexes it not, nor rain, nor any wind; but it rejoices in its sweet, untroubled being, till such time as the maiden is called a wife, and finds her portion of anxious thoughts in the night, brooding on danger to husband or to children. Such an one could understand the burden of my cares; she could judge them by her own.

Well, I have had many a sorrow to weep for ere now; but I am going to speak of one more grievous than them all. When Heracles my lord was going from home on his last journey, he left in the house an ancient tablet, inscribed with tokens which he had never brought himself to explain to me before, many as were the ordeals to which he had gone forth. He had always departed as if to conquer, not to die. But now, as if he were a doomed man, he told me what portion of his substance I was to take for my dower, and how he would have his sons share their father’s land amongst them. And he fixed the time; saying that, when a year and three months should have passed since he had left the country, then he was fated to die; or, if he should have survived that term, to live thenceforth an untroubled life.

Such, he said, was the doom ordained by the gods to be accomplished in the toils of Heracles; as the ancient oak at Dodona had spoken of yore, by the mouth of the two Peleiades. And this is the precise moment when the fulfilment of that word becomes due; so that I start up from sweet slumber, my friends, stricken with terror at the thought that I must remain widowed of the noblest among men.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Hush — no more ill-omened words; I see a man approaching, who wears a wreath, as if for joyous tidings.

(A MESSENGER enters.)

MESSENGER

Queen Deianeira, I shall be the first of messengers to free thee from fear. Know that Alcmena’s son lives and triumphs, and from battle brings the firstfruits to the gods of this land.

DEIANEIRA

What news is this, old man, that thou hast told me?

MESSENGER

That thy lord, admired of all, will soon come to thy house, restored to thee in his victorious might.

DEIANEIRA

What citizen or stranger hath told thee this?

MESSENGER

In the meadow, summer haunt of oxen, Lichas the herald is proclaiming it to many: from him I heard it, and flew hither, that I might be the first to give thee these tidings, and so might reap some guerdon from thee, and win thy grace.

DEIANEIRA

And why is he not here, if he brings good news?

MESSENGER

His task, lady, is no easy one; all the Malian folk have thronged around him with questions, and he cannot move forward: each and all are bent on learning what they desire, and will not release him until they are satisfied.

Thus their eagerness detains him against his will; but thou shalt presently see him face to face.

DEIANEIRA

O Zeus, who rulest the meads of Oeta, sacred from the scythe, at last, though late, thou hast given us joy! Uplift your voices, ye women within the house and ye beyond our gates, since now we are gladdened by the light of this message, that hath risen on us beyond my hope!

LEADER OF ONE SEMI-CHORUS(singing)

Let the maidens raise a joyous strain for the house, with songs of triumph at the hearth; and, amidst them, let the shout of the men go up with one accord for Apollo of the bright quiver, our Defender! And at the same time, ye maidens, lift up a paean, cry aloud to his sister, the Ortygian Artemis, smiter of deer, goddess of the twofold torch, and to the Nymphs her neighbours!

LEADER OF OTHER SEMI-CHORUS

My spirit soars; I will not reject the wooing of the flute. — O thou sovereign of my soul! Lo, the ivy’s spell begins to work upon me! Euoe! — even now it moves me to whirl in the swift dance of Bachanals!

CHORUS

Praise, praise unto the Healer!

LEADER OF WHOLE CHORUS

See, dear lady, see! Behold, these tidings are taking shape before thy gaze.

DEIANEIRA

I see it, dear maidens; my watching eyes had not failed to note yon company.

(Enter LICHAS, followed by Captive Maidens. Conspicuous among them

is IOLE.) — All hail to the herald, whose coming hath been so long delayed! — if indeed thou bringest aught that can give joy.

LICHAS

We are happy in our return, and happy in thy greeting, lady, which befits the deed achieved; for when a man hath fair fortune, he needs must win good welcome.

DEIANEIRA

O best of friends, tell me first what first I would know, — shall I receive Heracles alive?

LICHAS

I, certainly, left him alive and well, — in vigorous health, unburdened by disease.

DEIANEIRA

Where, tell me — at home, or on foreign soil?

LICHAS

There is a headland of Euboea, where to Cenaean Zeus he consecrates altars, and the tribute of fruitful ground.

DEIANEIRA

In payment of a vow, or at the bidding of an oracle?

LICHAS

For a vow, made when he was seeking to conquer and despoil the country of these women who are before thee.

DEIANEIRA

And these — who are they, I pray thee, and whose daughters? They deserve pity, unless their plight deceives me.

LICHAS

These are captives whom he chose out for himself and for the gods, when he sacked the city of Eurytus.

DEIANEIRA

Was it the war against that city which kept him away so long, beyond all forecast, past all count of days?

LICHAS

Not so: the greater part of the time he was detained in Lydia, — no free man, as he declares, but sold into bondage. No offence should attend on the word, lady, when the deed is found to be of Zeus. So he passed a whole year, as he himself avows, in thraldom to Omphale the barbarian. And so stung was he by that reproach, he bound himself by a solemn oath that he would one day enslave, with wife and child, the man who had brought that calamity upon him. Nor did he speak the word in vain; but, when he bad been purged, gathered an alien host, and went against the city of Eurytus. That man, he said, alone of mortals, had a share in causing his misfortune. For when Heracles, an old friend, came to his house and hearth, Eurytus heaped on him

the taunts of a bitter tongue and spiteful soul,- saying, ‘Thou hast unerring arrows in thy hands, and yet my sons surpass thee in the trial of archery’; ‘Thou art a slave,’ he cried, ‘a free man’s broken thrall’: and at a banquet, when his guest was full of wine, he thrust him from his doors. Wroth thereat, when afterward Iphitus came to the hill of Tiryns, in search for horses that had strayed, Heracles seized a moment when the man’s wandering thoughts went not with his wandering gaze, and hurled him from a tower-like summit. But in anger at that deed, Zeus our lord, Olympian sire of all, sent him forth into bondage, and spared not, because, this once, he had taken a life by guile. Had he wreaked his vengeance openly, Zeus would surely have pardoned him the righteous triumph; for the gods, too, love not insolence.

So those men, who waxed so proud with bitter speech, are themselves in the mansions of the dead, all of them, and their city is enslaved; while the women whom thou beholdest, fallen from happiness to misery, come here to thee; for such was thy lord’s command, which I, his faithful servant, perform. He himself, thou mayest be sure, — so soon as he shall have offered holy sacrifice for his victory to Zeus from whom he sprang, — will be with thee. After all the fair tidings that have been told, this, indeed, is the sweetest word to hear.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Now, O Queen, thy joy is assured; part is with thee, and thou hast promise of the rest.

DEIANEIRA

Yea, have I not the fullest reason to rejoice at these tidings of my lord’s happy fortune? To such fortune, such joy must needs respond. And yet a prudent mind can see room for misgiving lest he who prospers should one day suffer reverse. A strange pity hath come over me, friends, at the sight of these illfated exiles, homeless and fatherless in a foreign land; once the daughters, perchance, of free-born sires, but now doomed to the life of slaves. O Zeus, who turnest the tide of battle, never may I see child of mine thus visited by thy hand; nay, if such visitation is to be, may it not fall while Deianeira lives! Such dread do I feel, beholding these.

(To IOLE) Ah, hapless girl, say, who art thou? A maiden, or a mother? To judge by thine aspect, an innocent maiden, and of a noble race. Lichas, whose daughter is this stranger? Who is her mother, who her sire? Speak, I pity her more than all the rest, when I behold her; as she alone shows due feeling for her plight.

LICHAS

How should I know? Why should’st thou ask me? Perchance the off, spring of not the meanest in yonder land.

DEIANEIRA

Can she be of royal race? Had Eurytus a daughter?

LICHAS

I know not; indeed, I asked not many questions.

DEIANEIRA

And thou hast not heard her name from any of her companions?

LICHAS

No, indeed, I went through my task in silence.

DEIANEIRA

Unhappy girl, let me, at least, hear it from thine own mouth. It is indeed distressing not to know thy name.

(IOLE maintains her silence.)

LICHAS

It will be unlike her former behaviour, then, I can tell thee, if she opens her lips: for she hath not uttered one word, but hath ever been travailing with the burden of her sorrow, and weeping bitterly, poor girl, since she left her windswept home. Such a state is grievous for herself, but claims our forbearance.

DEIANEIRA

Then let her be left in peace, and pass under our roof as she wishes; her present woes must not be crowned with fresh pains at my hands; she hath enough already.-Now let us all go in, that thou mayest start speedily on thy journey, while I make all things ready in the house.

(LICHAS leads the captives into the house. DEIANEIRA starts to follow them, but the MESSENGER, who has been present during the entire scene, detains her. He speaks as he moves nearer to her.)

MESSENGER

Ay, but first tarry here a brief space, that thou mayest learn, apart from yonder folk, whom thou art taking to thy hearth, and mayest gain the needful knowledge of things which have not been told to thee. Of these I am in full possession.

DEIANEIRA

What means this? Why wouldest thou stay my departure?

MESSENGER

Pause and listen. My former story was worth thy hearing, and so will this one be, methinks.

DEIANEIRA

Shall I call those others back? Or wilt thou speak before me and these maidens?

MESSENGER

To thee and these I can speak freely; never mind the others.

DEIANEIRA

Well, they are gone; — so thy story can proceed.

MESSENGER

Yonder man was not speaking the straight-forward truth in aught that he has just told. He has given false tidings now, or else his former report was dishonest.

DEIANEIRA

How sayest thou? Explain thy whole drift clearly; thus far, thy words are riddles to me.

MESSENGER

I heard this man declare, before many witnesses, that for this maiden’s sake Heracles overthrew Eurytus and the proud towers of Oechalia; Love, alone of the gods, wrought on him to do those deeds of arms, — not the toilsome servitude to Omphale in Lydia, nor the death to which Iphitus was hurled. But now the herald has thrust Love out of sight, and tells different tale. Well, when he could not persuade her sire to give him the maiden for his paramour, he devised some petty complaint as a pretext, and made war upon her land, — that in which, as he said, this Eurytus bore sway, — and slew the prince her father, and sacked her city. And now, as thou seest, he comes

sending her to this house not in careless fashion, lady, nor like slave:— no, dream not of that, — it is not likely, if his heart is kindled with desire. I resolved, therefore, O Queen, to tell thee all that I had heard from yonder man. Many others were listening to it, as I was, in the public place where the Trachinians were assembled; and they can convict him. If my words are unwelcome, I am grieved; but nevertheless I have spoken out the truth.

DEIANEIRA

Ah me unhappy! In what plight do I stand? What secret bane have received beneath my roof? Hapless that I am! Is she nameless, then, as her convoy sware?

MESSENGER

Nay, illustrious by name as by birth; she is the daughter of Eurytus, and was once called Iole; she of whose parentage Lichas could say nothing, because, forsooth, he asked no questions.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Accursed, above other evil-doers, be the man whom deeds of treachery dishonour!

DEIANEIRA

Ah, maidens, what am I to do? These latest tidings have bewildered me!

LEADER

Go and inquire from Lichas; perchance he will tell the truth, if thou constrain him to answer.

DEIANEIRA

Well, I will go; thy counsel is not amiss.

MESSENGER

And I, shall I wait here? Or what is thy pleasure?

DEIANEIRA

Remain; — here he comes from the house of his own accord, without

summons from me.

(Enter LICHAS)

LICHAS

Lady, what message shall I bear to Heracles? Give me thy commands, for, as thou seest, I am going.

DEIANEIRA

How hastily thou art rushing away, when thy visit had been so long delayed, — before we have had time for further talk.

LICHAS

Nay, if there be aught that thou would’st ask, I am at thy service.

DEIANEIRA

Wilt thou indeed give me the honest truth?

LICHAS

Yes, be great Zeus my witness, — in anything that I know,

DEIANEIRA

Who is the woman, then, whom thou hast brought?

LICHAS

She is Euboean; but of what birth, I cannot say.

MESSENGER

Sirrah, look at me:— to whom art thou speaking, think’st thou?

LICHAS

And thou — what dost thou mean by such a question?

MESSENGER

Deign to answer me, if thou comprehendest.

LICHAS

To the royal Deianeira, unless mine eyes deceive me, — daughter of Oeneus, wife of Heracles, and my queen.

MESSENGER

The very word that I wished to hear from thee:— thou sayest that she is thy queen?

LICHAS

Yes, as in duty bound.

MESSENGER

Well, then, what art thou prepared to suffer, if found guilty of failing in that duty?

LICHAS

Failing in duty? What dark saying is this?

MESSENGER

’Tis none; the darkest words are thine own.

LICHAS

I will go, I was foolish to hear thee so long.

MESSENGER

No, not till thou hast answered a brief question.

LICHAS

Ask what thou wilt; thou art not taciturn.

MESSENGER

That captive, whom thou hast brought home — thou knowest whom mean?

LICHAS

Yes; but why dost thou ask?

MESSENGER

Well, saidst thou not that thy prisoner — she, on whom thy gaze now turns so vacantly — was Iole, daughter of Eurytus?

LICHAS

Said it to whom? Who and where is the man that will be thy witness to

hearing this from me?

MESSENGER

To many of our own folk thou saidst it: in the public gathering of Trachinians, a great crowd heard thus much from thee.

LICHAS

Ay — said they heard-but ’tis one thing to report a fancy, and another to make the story good.

MESSENGER

A fancy! Didst thou not say on thine oath that thou wast bringing her as a bride for Heracles?

LICHAS

I? bringing a bride? — In the name of the gods, dear mistress, tell me who this stranger may be?

MESSENGER

One who heard from thine own lips that the conquest of the whole city was due to love for this girl: the Lydian woman was not its destroyer, but the passion which this maid has kindled.

LICHAS

Lady, let this fellow withdraw: to prate with the brainsick befits not sane man.

DEIANEIRA

Nay, I implore thee by Zeus whose lightnings go forth over the high glens of Oeta, do not cheat me of the truth! For she to whom thou wilt speak is not ungenerous, nor hath she yet to learn that the human heart is inconstant to its joys. They are not wise, then, who stand forth to buffet against Love; for Love rules the gods as he will, and me; and why not another woman, such as I am?

So I am mad indeed, if I blame my husband, because that distemper hath seized him; or this woman, his partner in a thing which is no shame to them, and no wrong to me. Impossible! No; if he taught thee to speak falsely, ’tis not a noble lesson that thou art learning; or if thou art thine own teacher in this, thou wilt be found cruel when it is thy wish to prove kind. Nay, tell me the whole truth. To a free-born man, the name of liar cleaves as a deadly brand. If thy hope is to escape detection, that, too, is vain; there are many to whom thou hast spoken, who will tell me. And if thou art afraid, thy fear is mistaken. Not to learn the truth,-that, indeed, would pain me; but to know it — what is there terrible in that? Hath not Heracles wedded others ere now, — ay, more than living man, — and no one of them hath bad harsh word or taunt from me; nor shall this girl, though her whole being should be absorbed in her passion; for indeed I felt a profound pity when I beheld her, because her beauty hath wrecked her life, and she, hapless one, all innocent, hath brought her fatherland to ruin and to bondage. Well, those things must go with wind and stream. — To thee I say,-deceive whom thou wilt, but ever speak the truth to me.

LEADER

Hearken to her good counsel, and hereafter thou shalt have no cause to complain of this lady; our thanks, too, will be thine.

LICHAS

Nay, then, dear mistress, — since I see that thou thinkest as mortals should think, and canst allow for weakness, — I will tell thee the whole truth, and hide it not. Yes, it is even as yon man saith. This girl inspired that overmastering love which long ago smote through the soul of Heracles; for this girl’s sake the desolate Oechalia, her home, was made the prey of his spear. And he, — it is just to him to say so, — never denied this, — never told me to conceal it. But I, lady, fearing to wound thy heart by such tidings, have sinned, if thou count this in any sort a sin.

Now, however, that thou knowest the whole story, for both your sakes, — for his, and not less for thine own, — bear with the woman, and be content that the words which thou hast spoken regarding her should bind thee still. For he, whose strength is victorious in all else, hath been utterly vanquished by his passion for this girl.

DEIANEIRA

Indeed, mine own thoughts move me to act thus. Trust me, I will not add a new affliction to my burdens by waging a fruitless fight against the gods. But let us go into the house, that thou mayest receive my messages; and, since gifts should be meetly recompensed with gifts,- that thou mayest take these also. It is not right that thou shouldest go back with empty hands, after coming with such a goodly train.

(Exit MESSENGER, as LICHAS and DEIANEIRA go into the house.)

CHORUS(singing)

(strophe)

Great and mighty is the victory which the Cyprian queen ever bears away. I stay not now to speak of the gods; I spare to tell how she beguiled the son of Cronus, and Hades, the lord of darkness, or Poseidon, shaker of the earth. But, when this bride was to be won, who were the valiant rivals that entered the contest for her hand? Who went forth to the ordeal of battle, to the fierce blows and the blinding dust?

(antistrophe)

One was a mighty river-god, the dread form of a horned and four-legged bull, Achelous, from Oeniadae: the other came from Thebe, dear to Bacchus, with curved bow, and spears, and brandished club, the son of Zeus: who then met in combat, fain to win a bride: and the Cyprian goddess of nuptial joy was there with them, sole umpire of their strife.

(epode)

Then was there clatter of fists and clang of bow, and the noise of bull’s horns therewith; then were there close-locked grapplings, and deadly blows from the forehead, and loud deep cries from both.

Meanwhile, she, in her delicate beauty, sat on the side of a hill that could be seen afar, awaiting the husband that should be hers.

So the battle rages, as I have told; but the fair bride who is the prize of the strife abides the end in piteous anguish. And suddenly she is parted from her mother, as when a heifer is taken from its dam.

(DEIANEIRA enters from the house alone, carrying in her arms a casket containing a robe.)

DEIANEIRA

Dear friends, while our visitor is saying his farewell to the captive girls in the house, I have stolen forth to you, — partly to tell you what these hands have devised, and partly to crave your sympathy with my sorrow. A maiden, — or, methinks, no longer a maiden, but a mistress, — hath found her way into my house, as a freight comes to a mariner, — a merchandise to make shipwreck of my peace. And now we twain are to share the same marriage-bed, the same embrace. Such is the reward that Heracles hath sent me, — he whom I called true and loyal, — for guarding his home through all that weary time. I have no thought of anger against him, often as he is vexed with this distemper. But then to live with her, sharing the same union — what woman could endure it? For I see that the flower of her age is blossoming, while mine is fading; and the eyes of men love to cull the bloom of youth, but they turn aside from the old. This, then, is my fear, — lest Heracles, in name my spouse, should be the younger’s mate. But, as I said, anger ill beseems a woman of understanding. I will tell you, friends, the way by which I hope to find deliverance and relief. I had a gift, given to me long ago by a monster of olden time, aid stored in an urn of bronze; a gift which, while yet a girl, I took up from the shaggy-breasted Nessus, — from his life-blood, as he lay dying; Nessus, who used to carry men in his arms across the deep waters of the Evenus, using no oar to waft them, nor sail of ship.

I, too, was carried on his shoulders, — when, by my father’s sending, first went forth with Heracles as his wife; and when I was in mid-stream, he touched me with wanton hands. I shrieked; the son of Zeus turned quickly round, and shot a feathered arrow; it whizzed through his breast to the lungs; and, in his mortal faintness, thus much the Centaur spake:— ‘Child of aged Oeneus, thou shalt have at least this profit of my ferrying, — if thou wilt hearken,-because thou wast the last whom I conveyed. If thou gatherest with thy hands the blood clotted round my wound, at the place where the Hydra, Lerna’s monstrous growth, hath tinged the arrow with black gall, — this shall be to thee a charm for the soul of Heracles, so that he shall never look upon any woman to love her more than thee.’

I bethought me of this, my friends — for, after his death, I had kept it carefully locked up in a secret place; and I have anointed this robe, doing everything to it as he enjoined while he lived. The work is finished. May deeds of wicked daring be ever far from my thoughts, and from my knowledge, — as I abhor the women who attempt them! But if in any wise I may prevail against this girl by love-spells and charms used on Heracles, the means to that end are ready;-unless, indeed, I seem to be acting rashly: if so, I will desist forthwith.

LEADER

Nay, if these measures give any ground of confidence, we think that thy design is not amiss.

DEIANEIRA

Well, the ground stands thus, — there is a fair promise; but I have not yet essayed the proof.

LEADER

Nay, knowledge must come through action; thou canst have no test which is not fanciful, save by trial.

DEIANEIRA

Well, we shall know presently:— for there I see the man already at the doors; and he will soon be going. — Only may my secret be well kept by you! While thy deeds are hidden, even though they be not seemly, thou wilt never be brought to shame.

(LICHAS enters from the house.)

LICHAS

What are thy commands? Give me my charge, daughter of Oeneus; for already I have tarried over long.

DEIANEIRA

Indeed, I have just been seeing to this for thee, Lichas, while thou wast speaking to the stranger maidens in the house; — that thou shouldest take for me this long robe, woven by mine own hand, a gift to mine absent lord. And when thou givest it, charge him that he, and no other, shall be the first to wear it; that it shall not be seen by the light of the sun, nor by the sacred precinct, nor by the fire at the hearth, until he stand forth, conspicuous before all eyes, and show it to the gods on a day when bulls are slain.

For thus had I vowed, — that if I should ever see or hear that he had come safely home, I would duly clothe him in this robe, and so present him to the gods, newly radiant at their altar in new garb.

As proof, thou shalt carry a token, which he will quickly recognise within the circle of this seal.

Now go thy way; and, first, remember the rule that messengers should not be meddlers; next, so bear thee that my thanks may be joined to his doubling the grace which thou shalt win.

LICHAS

Nay, if I ply this herald-craft of Hermes with any sureness, I will never trip in doing thine errand: I will not fail to deliver this casket as it is, and to add thy words in attestation of thy gift.

DEIANEIRA

Thou mayest be going now; for thou knowest well how things are with us in the house.

LICHAS

I know, and will report, that all hath prospered.

DEIANEIRA

And then thou hast seen the greeting given to the stranger maiden-thou knowest how I welcomed her?

LICHAS

So that my heart was filled with wondering joy.

DEIANEIRA

What more, then, is there for thee to tell? I am afraid that it would be too soon to speak of the longing on my part, before we know if I am longed for there.

(LICHAS departs with the casket and DEIANEIRA retires into the house.)

CHORUS(Singing)

(strophe 1)

O ye who dwell by the warm springs between haven and crag, and by Oeta’s heights; O dwellers by the land-locked waters of the Malian sea, on the shore sacred to the virgin-goddess of the golden shafts, where the Greeks meet in famous council at the Gates;

(antistrophe 1)

Soon shall the glorious voice of the flute go up for you again, resounding with no harsh strain of grief, but with such music as the lyre maketh to the gods! For the son whom Alcmena bore to Zeus is hastening homeward, with the trophies of all prowess.

(strophe 2)

He was lost utterly to our land, a wanderer over sea, while we waited through twelve long months, and knew nothing; and his loving wife, sad dweller with sad thoughts, was ever pining amid her tears. But now the War-god, roused to fury, hath delivered her from the days of her mourning.

(antistrophe 2)

May he come, may he come! Pause not the many-oared ship that carries him, till he shall have reached this town, leaving the island altar where, as rumour saith, he is sacrificing! Thence may he come, full of desire, steeped in love by the specious device of the robe, on which Persuasion hath spread her sovereign charm!

(DEIANEIRA comes out of the house in agitation.)

DEIANEIRA

Friends, how I fear that I may have gone too far in all that I have been doing just now!

LEADER

What hath happened, Deianeira, daughter of Oeneus?

DEIANEIRA

I know not; but feel a misgiving that I shall presently be found to have wrought a great mischief, the issue of a fair hope.

LEADER

It is nothing, surely, that concerns thy gift to Heracles?

DEIANEIRA

Yea, even so. And henceforth I would say to all, act not with zeal, if ye act without light.

LEADER

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

DEIANEIRA

A thing hath come to pass, my friends, such that, if I declare it, ye will hear a marvel whereof none could have dreamed. That with which I was lately anointing the festal robe, — a white tuft of fleecy sheep’s wool, — hath disappeared, — not consumed by anything in the house, but self-devoured and self-destroyed, as it crumbled down from the surface of a stone. But I must tell the story More at length, that thou mayest know exactly how this thing befell.

I neglected no part of the precepts which the savage Centaur gave me, when the bitter barb was rankling in his side: they were in my memory, like the graven words which no hand may wash from a tablet of bronze. Now these were his orders, and I obeyed them:— to keep this unguent in secret place, always remote from fire and from the sun’s warm ray, until I should apply it, newly spread, where I wished. So had I done. And now, when the moment for action had come, I performed the anointing privily in the house, with a tuft of soft wool which I had plucked from a sheep of our home-flock; then I folded up my gift, and laid it, unvisited by sunlight, within its casket, as ye saw.

But as I was going back into the house, I beheld a thing too wondrous for words, and passing the wit of man to understand. I happened to have thrown the shred of wool, with which I bad been preparing the robe, into the full blaze of the sunshine. As it grew warm, it shrivelled all away, and quickly crumbled to powder on the ground, like nothing so much as the dust shed from a saw’s teeth where men work timber. In such a state it lies as it fell. And from the earth, where it was strewn, clots of foam seethed up, as when the rich juice of the blue fruit from the vine of Bacchus is poured upon the ground.

So I know not, hapless one, whither to turn my thoughts; I only see that I have done a fearful deed. Why or wherefore should the monster, in his deaththroes, have shown good will to me, on whose account he was dying? Impossible! No, he was cajoling me, in order to slay the man who had smitten him: and I gain the knowledge of this too late, when it avails no more. Yes, I alone — unless my foreboding prove false — I, wretched one, must destroy him! For I know that the arrow which made the wound did scathe even to the god Cheiron; and it kills all beasts that it touches. And since ’tis this same black venom in the blood that hath passed out through the wound of Nessus, must it not kill my lord also? I ween it must.

Howbeit, I am resolved that, if he is to fall, at the same time I also shall be swept from life; for no woman could bear to live with an evil name, if she rejoices that her nature is not evil.

LEADER

Mischief must needs be feared; but it is not well to doom our hope before the event.

DEIANEIRA

Unwise counsels leave no room even for a hope which can lend courage.

LEADER

Yet towards those who have erred unwittingly, men’s anger is softened; and so it should be towards thee.

DEIANEIRA

Nay, such words are not for one who has borne a part in the ill deed, but only for him who has no trouble at his own door.

LEADER

’Twere well to refrain from further speech, unless thou would’st tell aught to thine own son; for he is at hand, who went erewhile to seek his sire.

(Enter HYLLUS)

HYLLUS

O mother, would that one of three things had befallen thee! Would that thou wert dead, — or, if living, no mother of mine, — or that some new and better spirit had passed into thy bosom.

DEIANEIRA

Ah, my son, what cause have I given thee to abhor me?

HYLLUS

I tell thee that thy husband — yea, my sire-bath been done to death by thee this day

DEIANEIRA

Oh, what word hath passed thy lips, my child!

HYLLUS

A word that shall not fail of fulfilment; for who may undo that which bath come to pass?

DEIANEIRA

What saidst thou, my son? Who is thy warranty for charging me with a deed so terrible?

HYLLUS

I have seen my father’s grievous fate with mine own eyes; I speak not from hearsay.

DEIANEIRA

And where didst thou find him, — where didst thou stand at his side?

HYLLUS

If thou art to hear it, then must all be told. After sacking the famous town of Eurytus, he went his way with the trophies and first-fruits of victory. There is a sea-washed headland of Euboea, Cape Cenaeum, where he dedicated altars and a sacred grove to the Zeus of his fathers; and there I first beheld him, with the joy of yearning love.

He was about to celebrate a great sacrifice, when his own herald, Lichas, came to him from home, bearing thy gift, the deadly robe; which he put on, according to thy precept; and then began his offering with twelve bulls, free from blemish, the firstlings of the spoil; but altogether he brought a hundred victims, great or small, to the altar. At first, hapless one, he prayed with serene soul, rejoicing in his comely garb. But when the blood-fed flame began to blaze from the holy offerings and from the resinous pine, a sweat broke forth upon his flesh, and the tunic clung to his sides, at every joint, close-glued, as if by a craftsman’s hand; there came a biting pain that racked his bones; and then the venom, as of some deadly, cruel viper, began to devour him. Thereupon he shouted for the unhappy Lichas, — in no wise to blame for thy crime, — asking what treason had moved him to bring that robe; but he, allunknowing, hapless one, said that he had brought the gift from thee alone, as it had been sent. When his master heard it, as a piercing spasm clutched his lungs, he caught him by the foot, where the ankle turns in the socket, and hurled him at a surf-beaten rock in the sea; and he made the white brain to ooze from the hair, as the skull was dashed to splinters, and blood scattered therewith.

But all the people lifted up a cry of awe-struck grief, seeing that one was frenzied, and the other slain; and no one dared to come before the man. For the pain dragged him to earth, or made him leap into the air, with yells and shrieks, till the cliffs rang around, steep headlands of Locris, and Euboean capes.

But when he was spent with oft throwing himself on the ground in his anguish, and oft making loud lament, — cursing his fatal marriage with thee, the vile one, and his alliance with Oeneus, — saying how he had found in it the ruin of his life, — then from out of the shrouding altar-smoke, he lifted up his wildly-rolling eyes, and saw me in the great crowd, weeping. He turned his gaze on me, and called me: ‘O son, draw near; do not fly from my trouble, even though thou must share my death. Come, bear me forth, and set me, if thou canst, in a place where no man shall see me; or, if thy pity forbids that, at least convey me with all speed out of this land, and let me not die where I am.’

That command sufficed; we laid him in mid-ship, and brought him-but hardly brought him — to this shore, moaning in his torments. And ye shall presently behold him, alive, or lately dead.

Such, mother, are the designs and deeds against my sire whereof thou hast been found guilty. May avenging justice and the Erinys visit thee for them! Yes, if it be right, that is my prayer: and right it is, — for I have seen thee trample on the right, by slaying the noblest man in all the world, whose like thou shalt see nevermore!

(DEIANEIRA moves towards the house.)

LEADER(to DEIANEIRA)

Why dost thou depart in silence? Knowest thou not that such silence pleads for thine accuser?

(DEIANEIRA goes in the house.)

HYLLUS

Let her depart. A fair wind speed her far from my sight! Why should the name of mother bring her a semblance of respect, when she is all unlike a mother in her deeds? No, let her go, — farewell to her; and may such joy as she gives my sire become her own!

(Exit HYLLUS, into the house.)

CHORUS(singing)

(strophe 1)

See, maidens, how suddenly the divine word of the old prophecy hath come upon us, which said that, when the twelfth year should have run through its full tale of months, it should end the series of toils for the true-born son of Zeus! And that promise is wafted surely to its fulfilment. For how shall he who beholds not the light have toilsome servitude any more beyond the grave?

(antistrophe 1)

If a cloud of death is around him, and the doom wrought by the Centaur’s craft is stinging his sides, where cleaves the venom which Thanatos begat and the gleaming serpent nourished, how can he look upon tomorrow’s sun, — when that appalling Hydra-shape holds him in its grip, and those murderous goads, prepared by the wily words of black-haired Nessus, have started into fury, vexing him with tumultuous pain?

(strophe 2)

Of such things this hapless lady had no foreboding; but she saw great mischief swiftly coming on her home from the new marriage. Her own hand applied the remedy; but for the issues of a stranger’s counsel, given at a fatal meeting, — for these, I ween, she makes despairing lament, shedding the tender dew of plenteous tears. And the coming fate foreshadows a great misfortune, contrived by guile.

(antistrophe 2)

Our streaming tears break forth: alas, a plague is upon him more piteous than any suffering that foemen ever brought upon that glorious hero. Ah, thou dark steel of the spear foremost in battle, by whose might yonder bride was lately borne so swiftly from Oechalia’s heights! But the Cyprian goddess, ministering in silence, hath been plainly proved the doer of these deeds.

LEADER OF ONE SEMI-CHORUS

Is it fancy, or do I hear some cry of grief just passing through the house? What is this?

LEADER OF OTHER SEMI-CHORUS

No uncertain sound, but a wail of anguish from within: the house hath some new trouble.

LEADER OF WHOLE CHORUS

And mark how sadly, with what a cloud upon her brow, that aged woman approaches, to give us tidings.

(Enter NURSE, from the house.)

NURSE

Ah, my daughters, great, indeed, were the sorrows that we were to reap from the gift sent to Heracles!

LEADER

Aged woman, what new mischance hast thou to tell?

NURSE

Deianeira hath departed on the last of all her journeys, departed without stirring foot.

LEADER

Thou speakest not of death?

NURSE

My tale is told.

LEADER

Dead, hapless one?

NURSE

Again thou hearest it.

CHORUS

Hapless, lost one! Say, what was the manner of her death?

NURSE

Oh, a cruel deed was there!

CHORUS

Speak, woman, how hath she met her doom?

NURSE

By her own hand hath she died.

CHORUS

What fury, what pangs of frenzy have cut her off by the edge of a dire weapon? How contrived she this death, following death, — all wrought by her alone?

NURSE

By the stroke of the sword that makes sorrow.

CHORUS

Sawest thou that violent deed, poor helpless one?

NURSE

I saw it; yea, I was standing near.

CHORUS

Whence came it? How was it done? Oh, speak

NURSE

’Twas the work of her own mind and her own hand.

CHORUS

What dost thou tell us?

NURSE

The sure truth.

CHORUS

The first-born, the first-born of that new bride is a dread Erinys for this house!

NURSE

Too true; and, hadst thou been an eye-witness of the action, verily thy pity would have been yet deeper.

LEADER

And could a woman’s hand dare to do such deeds?

NURSE

Yea, with dread daring; thou shalt hear, and then thou wilt bear me witness. When she came alone into the house, and saw her son preparing a deep litter in the court, that he might go back with it to meet his sire, then she hid herself where none might see; and, falling before the altars, she wailed aloud that they were left desolate; and, when she touched any-household thing that she had been wont to use, poor lady, in the past, her tears would flow; or when, roaming hither and thither through the house, she beheld the form of any well-loved servant, she wept, hapless one, at that sight, crying aloud upon her own fate, and that of the household which would thenceforth be in the power of others.

But when she ceased from this, suddenly I beheld her rush into the chamber of Heracles. From a secret place of espial, I watched her; and saw her spreading coverings on the couch of her lord. When she had done this, she sprang thereon, and sat in the middle of the bed; her tears burst forth in burning streams, and thus she spake: ‘Ah, bridal bed and bridal chamber mine, farewell now and for ever; never more shall ye receive me to rest upon this couch.’ She said no more, but with a vehement hand loosed her robe, where the gold-wrought brooch lay above her breast, baring all her left side and arm. Then I ran with all my strength, and warned her son of her intent. But lo, in the space between my going and our return, she had driven a twoedged sword through her side to the heart.

At that sight, her son uttered a great cry; for he knew, alas, that in his anger he had driven her to that deed; and he had learned, too late, from the servants in the house that she had acted without knowledge, by the prompting of the Centaur. And now the youth, in his misery, bewailed her with all passionate lament; he knelt, and showered kisses on her lips; he threw himself at her side upon the ground, bitterly crying that he had rashly smitten her with a slander, — weeping that he must now live bereaved of both alike, — of mother and of sire. Such are the fortunes of this house. Rash indeed, is he who reckons on the morrow, or haply on days beyond it; for to-morrow is not, until to-day is safely past.

CHORUS(singing)

strophe 1

Which woe shall I bewail first, which misery is the greater? Alas, ’tis hard for me to tell.

(antistrophe 1)

One sorrow may be seen in the house; for one we wait with foreboding: and suspense hath a kinship with pain.

(strophe 2)

Oh that some strong breeze might come with wafting power unto our hearth, to bear me far from this land, lest I die of terror, when look but once upon the mighty son of Zeus! For they say that he is approaching the house in torments from which there is no deliverance, a wonder of unutterable woe.

(antistrophe 2)

Ah, it was not far off, but close to us, that woe of which my lament gave warning, like the nightingale’s piercing note!

Men of an alien race are coming yonder. And how, then, are they bringing him? In sorrow, as for some loved one, they move on their mournful, noiseless march.

Alas, he is brought in silence! What are we to think; that he is dead, or sleeping?

(Enter HYLLUS and an OLD MAN, with attendants, bearing HERACLES upon a litter.)

HYLLUS

Woe is me for thee, my father, woe is me for thee, wretched that I am!

Whither shall I turn? What can I do? Ah me!

OLD MAN(whispering)

Hush, my son! Rouse not the cruel pain that infuriates thy sire! He lives, though prostrated. Oh, put a stern restraint upon thy lips!

HYLLUS

How sayest thou, old man — is he alive?

OLD MAN(whispering)

Thou must not awake the slumberer! Thou must not rouse and revive the dread frenzy that visits him, my son!

HYLLUS

Nay, I am crushed with this weight of misery — there is madness in my heart!

HERACLES(awaking)

O Zeus, to what land have I come? Who are these among whom I lie, tortured with unending agonies? Wretched, wretched that I am! Oh, that dire pest is gnawing me once more!

OLD MAN(to HYLLUS)

Knew I not how much better it was that thou shouldest keep silence, instead of scaring slumber from his brain and eyes?

HYLLUS

Nay, I cannot be patient when I behold this misery.

HERACLES

O thou Cenaean rock whereon mine altars rose, what a cruel reward hast thou won me for those fair offerings, — be Zeus my witness! Ah, to what ruin hast thou brought me, to what ruin! Would that I had never beheld thee for thy sorrow! Then had I never come face to face with this fiery madness, which no spell can soothe! Where is the charmer, where is the cunning healer, save Zeus alone, that shall lull this plague to rest? I should marvel, if he ever came within my ken!

(strophe 1)

Ah! Leave me, hapless one, to my rest — leave me to my last rest!

(strophe 2)

Where art thou touching me? Whither wouldst thou turn me? Thou wilt kill me, thou wilt kill me! If there be any pang that slumbers, thou hast aroused it!

It hath seized me, — oh, the pest comes again! — Whence are ye, most ungrateful of all the Greeks? I wore out my troublous days in ridding Greece of pests, on the deep and in all forests; and now, when I am stricken, will no man succour me with merciful fire of sword?

(antistrophe 1)

Oh, will no one come and sever the head, at one fierce stroke, from this wretched body? Woe, woe is me!

OLD MAN

Son of Heracles, this task exceeds my strength, — help thou, — for strength is at thy command, too largely to need my aid in his relief.

HYLLUS

My hands are helping; but no resource, in myself or from another, avails me to make his life forget its anguish:— such is the doom appointed by Zeus!

HERACLES

(strophe 3)

O my son, where art thou? Raise me, — take hold of me, — thus thus! Alas, my destiny!

(antistrophe 2)

Again, again the cruel pest leaps forth to rend me, the fierce plague with which none may cope! O Pallas, Pallas, it tortures me again! Alas, my son, pity thy sire, — draw a blameless sword, and smite beneath my collar-bone, and heal this pain wherewith thy godless mother hath made me wild! So may I see her fall, — thus, even thus, as she hath destroyed me!

(antistrophe 3)

Sweet Hades, brother of Zeus, give me rest, give me rest, — end my woe by a swiftly-sped doom!

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

I shudder, friends, to hear these sorrows of our lord; what a man is here, and what torments afflict him!

HERACLES

Ah, fierce full oft, and grievous not in name alone, have been the labours of these hands, the burdens borne upon these shoulders! But no toil ever laid on me by the wife of Zeus or by the hateful Eurystheus was like unto this thing which the daughter of Oeneus, fair and false, hath fastened upon my back, — this woven net of the Furies, in which I perish! Glued to my sides, it hath eaten my flesh to the inmost parts; it is ever with me, sucking the channels of my breath; already it hath drained my fresh lifeblood, and my whole body is wasted, a captive to these unutterable bonds.

Not the warrior on the battle-field, not the Giants’ earth-born host, nor the might of savage beasts, hath ever done unto me thus,- not Hellas, nor the land of the alien, nor any land to which I have come as a deliverer: no, a woman, a weak woman, born not to the strength of man, all alone hath vanquished me, without stroke of sword

Son, show thyself my son indeed, and do not honour a mother’s name above a sire’s: bring forth the woman that bare thee, and give her with thine own hands into my hand, that I may know of a truth which sight grieves thee most, — my tortured frame, or hers, when she suffers her righteous doom!

Go, my son, shrink not — and show thy pity for me, whom many might deem pitiful, — for me, moaning and weeping like a girl; — and the man lives not who can say that he ever saw me do thus before; no, without complaining I still went whither mine evil fortune led. But now, alas, the strong man hath been found a woman.

Approach, stand near thy sire, and see what a fate it is that hath brought me to this pass; for I will lift the veil. Behold! Look, all of you, on this miserable body; see how wretched, how piteous is my plight!

Ah, woe is me!

The burning throe of torment is there anew, it darts through my sides — I must wrestle once more with that cruel, devouring plague!

O thou lord of the dark realm, receive me! Smite me, O fire of Zeus! Hurl down thy thunderbolt, O King, send it, O father, upon my head! For again the pest is consuming me; it hath blazed forth, it hath started into fury! O hands, my hands, O shoulders and breast and trusty arms, ye, now in this plight, are the same whose force of old subdued the dweller in Nemea, the scourge of herdsmen, the lion, a creature that no man might approach or confront; ye tamed the Lernaean Hydra, and that monstrous host of double form, man joined to steed, a race with whom none may commune, violent, lawless, of surpassing might; ye tamed the Erymanthian beast, and the three-headed whelp of Hades underground, a resistless terror, offspring of the dread Echidna; ye tamed the dragon that guarded the golden fruit in the utmost places of the earth.

These toils and countless others have I proved, nor hath any man vaunted a triumph over my prowess. But now, with joints unhinged and with flesh torn to shreds, I have become the miserable prey of an unseen destroyer, — I, who am called the son of noblest mother, — I, whose reputed sire is Zeus, lord of the starry sky.

But ye may be sure of one thing:— though I am as nought, though I cannot move a step, yet she who hath done this deed shall feel my heavy hand even now: let her but come, and she shall learn to proclaim this message unto all, that in my death, as in my life, I chastised the wicked!

LEADER

Ah, hapless Greece, what mourning do I forsee for her, if she must lose this man.

HYLLUS

Father, since thy pause permits an answer, hear me, afflicted though thou art.

I will ask thee for no more than is my due. Accept my counsels, in a calmer mood than that to which this anger stings thee: else thou canst not learn how vain is thy desire for vengeance, and how causeless thy resentment.

HERACLES

Say what thou wilt, and cease; in this my pain I understand nought of all thy riddling words.

HYLLUS

I come to tell thee of my mother, — how it is now with her, and how she sinned unwittingly.

HERACLES

Villain! What — hast thou dared to breathe her name again in my hearing, — the name of the mother who hath slain thy sire?

HYLLUS

Yea, such is her state that silence is unmeet.

HERACLES

Unmeet, truly, in view of her past crimes.

HYLLUS

And also of her deeds this day, — as thou wilt own.

HERACLES

Speak, — but give heed that thou be not found a traitor.

HYLLUS

These are my tidings. She is dead, lately slain.

HERACLES

By whose hand? A wondrous message, from a prophet of ill-omened voice!

HYLLUS

By her own hand, and no stranger’s.

HERACLES

Alas, ere she died by mine, as she deserved!

HYLLUS

Even thy wrath would be turned, couldst thou hear all.

HERACLES

A strange preamble; but unfold thy meaning.

HYLLUS

The sum is this; — she erred, with a good intent.

HERACLES

Is it a good deed, thou wretch, to have slain thy sire?

HYLLUS

Nay, she thought to use a love-charm for thy heart, when she saw the new bride in the house; but missed her aim.

HERACLES

And what Trachinian deals in spells so potent?

HYLLUS

Nessus the Centaur persuaded her of old to inflame thy desire with such a charm.

HERACLES

Alas, alas, miserable that I am! Woe is me, I am lost, — undone, undone! No more for me the light of day! Alas, now I see in what a plight stand! Go, my son, — for thy father’s end hath come, — summon, I pray thee, all thy brethren; summon, too, the hapless Alcmena, in vain the bride of Zeus, — that ye may learn from my dying lips what oracles know.

HYLLUS

Nay, thy mother is not here; as it chances, she hath her abode at Tiryns by the sea. Some of thy children she hath taken to live with her there, and others, thou wilt find, are dwelling in Thebe’s town. But we who are with thee, my father, will render all service that is needed, at thy bidding.

HERACLES

Hear, then, thy task: now is the time to show what stuff is in thee, who art called my son.

It was foreshown to me by my Sire of old that I should perish by no creature that had the breath of life, but by one that had passed to dwell with Hades. So I have been slain by this savage Centaur, the living by the dead, even as the divine will had been foretold.

And I will show thee how later oracles tally therewith, confirming the old prophecy. I wrote them down in the grove of the Selli, dwellers on the hills, whose couch is on the ground; they were given by my Father’s oak of many tongues; which said that, at the time which liveth and now is, my release from the toils laid upon me should be accomplished. And I looked for prosperous days; but the meaning, it seems, was only that should die; for toil comes no more to the dead.

Since, then, my son, those words are clearly finding their fulfilment, thou, on thy part, must lend me thine aid. Thou must not delay, and so provoke me to bitter speech: thou must consent and help with a good grace, as one who hath learned that best of laws, obedience to a sire.

HYLLUS

Yea, father, — though I fear the issue to which our talk hath brought me, — I will do thy good pleasure.

HERACLES

First of all, lay thy right hand in mine.

HYLLUS

For what purpose dost thou insist upon his pledge?

HERACLES

Give thy hand at once — disobey me not!

HYLLUS

Lo, there it is: thou shalt not be gainsaid.

HERACLES

Now, swear by the head of Zeus my sire!

HYLLUS

To do what deed? May this also be told?

HERACLES

To perform for me the task that I shall enjoin.

HYLLUS

I swear it, with Zeus for witness of the oath.

HERACLES

And pray that, if thou break this oath, thou mayest suffer.

HYLLUS

I shall not suffer, for I shall keep it:— yet so I pray.

HERACLES

Well, thou knowest the summit of Oeta, sacred to Zeus?

HYLLUS

Ay; I have often stood at his altar on that height.

HERACLES

Thither, then, thou must carry me up with thine own hands, aided by what friends thou wilt; thou shalt lop many a branch from the deep-rooted oak, and hew many a faggot also from the sturdy stock of the wild-olive; thou shalt lay my body thereupon, and kindle it with flaming pine-torch.

And let no tear of mourning be seen there; no, do this without lament and without weeping, if thou art indeed my son. But if thou do it not, even from the world below my curse and my wrath shall wait on thee for ever.

HYLLUS

Alas, my father, what hast thou spoken? How hast thou dealt with me!

HERACLES

I have spoken that which thou must perform; if thou wilt not, then get thee some other sire, and be called my son no more!

HYLLUS

Woe, woe is me! What a deed dost thou require of me, my father,-that I should become thy murderer, guilty of thy blood!

HERACLES

Not so, in truth, but healer of my sufferings, sole physician of my pain!

HYLLUS

And how, by enkindling thy body, shall I heal it?

HERACLES

Nay, if that thought dismay thee, at least perform the rest.

HYLLUS

The service of carrying thee shall not be refused.

HERACLES

And the heaping of the pyre, as I have bidden?

HYLLUS

Yea, save that I will not touch it with mine own hand. All else will I do, and thou shalt have no hindrance on my part.

HERACLES

Well, so much shall be enough. — But add one small boon to thy large

benefits.

HYLLUS

Be the boon never so large, it shall be granted.

HERACLES

Knowest thou, then, the girl whose sire was Eurytus?

HYLLUS

It is of Iole that thou speakest, if I mistake not.

HERACLES

Even so. This, in brief, is the charge that I give thee, my son. When am dead, if thou wouldest show a pious remembrance of thine oath unto thy father, disobey me not, but take this woman to be thy wife. Let no other espouse her who hath lain at my side, but do thou, O my son, make that marriage-bond thine own. Consent: after loyalty in great matters, to rebel in less is to cancel the grace that bad been won.

HYLLUS

Ah me, it is not well to be angry with a sick man: but who could bear to see him in such a mind?

HERACLES

Thy words show no desire to do my bidding.

HYLLUS

What! When she alone is to blame for my mother’s death, and for thy present plight besides? Lives there the man who would make such choice, unless he were maddened by avenging fiends? Better were it, father, that I too should die, rather than live united to the worst of our foes!

HERACLES

He will render no reverence, it seems, to my dying prayer. — Nay, be sure that the curse of the gods will attend thee for disobedience to my voice.

HYLLUS

Ah, thou wilt soon show, methinks, how distempered thou art!

HERACLES

Yea, for thou art breaking the slumber of my plague.

HYLLUS

Hapless that I am! What perplexities surround me!

HERACLES

Yea, since thou deignest not to hear thy sire.

HYLLUS

But must I learn, then, to be impious, my father?

HERACLES

’Tis not impiety, if thou shalt gladden my heart.

HYLLUS

Dost thou command me, then, to do this deed, as a clear duty?

HERACLES

I command thee, — the gods bear me witness!

HYLLUS

Then will I do it, and refuse not, — calling upon the gods to witness thy deed.

I can never be condemned for loyalty to thee, my father.

HERACLES

Thou endest well; and to these words, my son, quickly add the gracious deed, that thou mayest lay me on the pyre before any pain returns to rend or sting me.

Come, make haste and lift me! This, in truth, is rest from troubles; this is the end, the last end, of Heracles!

HYLLUS

Nothing, indeed, hinders the fulfilment of thy wish, since thy command constrains us, my father.

HERACLES(chanting)

Come, then, ere thou arouse this plague, O my stubborn soul, give me a curb as of steel on lips set like stone to stone, and let no cry escape them; seeing that the deed which thou art to do, though done perforce, is yet worthy of thy joy!

HYLLUS(chanting)

Lift him, followers! And grant me full forgiveness for this; but mark the great cruelty of the gods in the deeds that are being done. They beget children, they are hailed as fathers, and yet they can look upon such sufferings.

(The attendants raise HERACLES on the litter and move slowly off, as HYLLUS chants to the CHORUS in the closing lines.)

No man foresees the future; but the present is fraught with mourning for us, and with shame for the powers above, and verily with anguish beyond compare for him who endures this doom. Maidens, come ye also, nor linger at the house; ye who have lately seen a dread death, with sorrows manifold and strange: and in all this there is nought but Zeus.

Children of Heracles Introduction

The Children of Heracles (430BC) might, initially, seem like an odd inclusion in an anthology of Heracles plays because, as the title suggests, it doesn't directly feature Heracles but instead revolves around the fate of his children.

However, for the Greeks – well, for the heroic tradition at least – there was no separating a man from his offspring. Indeed, quality of progeny is probably the best argument for Achilles being the superior hero to Odysseus in the works of Homer. This is because Achilles' son, Neoptolemus, was instrumental in the fall of Troy while Odysseus' Telemachus displays unheroic barbarism and cruelty. The point is that the deeds and fate of a child are directly linked to the quality and honour of the father (though not, traditionally, the mother).

So not only is it relevant to include the Heracleidae in a compendium about Heracles, but it could actually be considered a gross oversight if one didn't!

Regardless, though not actually one of the dramatis personae, Heracles dominates practically every event and conversation of this fascinating piece of theatre. Indeed, at one point he even performs a sort of quasi, off-stage deus ex machina when he reinvigorates his aged friend, Iolaus.

The play shows Heracles' children as refugees being pursued relentlessly by the architect of the famous twelve labours, Eurystheus, who is hell-bent on ridding the world of any scion of his old enemy.

As one would expect from a Euripides play, the Children of Heracles is rich in intrigue, reversals of fortune, forlorn hope, ethical fortitude and complex and ambiguous characters.

What is unusual from the man often considered to be antiquity's greatest dramatist are the notes of democratic fervour, war propaganda and Athenian nationalism in general.

Indeed, those familiar with Euripides could be forgiven for considering him to be the embodiment of an anti-war writer. However, he was not always such – the fatigue and senselessness of the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BC) did eventually seem to grind down Euripides' spirit and cause him to see war as a no-win blight on humanity (see The Trojan Women for a stark comparison), but The Heracleidae paints Athens (and Athenians) as brave and fearless warriors who would rather die a righteous death then suffer any ignominy, either individual or collective, in life.

That said, Euripides can never quite resist a little bit of mischief; though this could easily be his most patriotic play, he still wants the audience to hesitate before they start waving their flags and belting out the national anthem. All the play's honourable zeal and selfless bravery could be called slightly tainted, coming as it does on the back of a tragic, pitiable and, for audiences then as well as now, totally abhorrent human sacrifice.

The Heracleidae (Children of Heracles)

By Euripides

Translated by E. P. Coleridge

Dramatis Personae

IOLAUS, friend of Heracles

COPREUS, herald of EURYSTHEUS

DEMOPHON, King of Athens

MACARIA, daughter of Heracles

SERVANT, of Hyllus, son of Heracles

ALCMENA, mother of Heracles

MESSENGER

EURYSTHEUS; King of Argos

CHORUS OF AGED ATHENIANS

Acamas, the brother of DEMOPHON, younger sons of Heracles,

[Scene: Before the altar and temple of Zeus at Marathon (or, perhaps, Athens). IOLAUS, an old man, and the children of Heracles are seen on the steps of the altar.]

IOLAUS

I hold this true, and long have held: Nature hath made one man upright for his neighbours' good, while another hath a disposition wholly given over to gain, useless alike to the state and difficult to have dealings with, but for himself the best of men; and this I know, not from mere hearsay. For I, from pure regard and reverence for my kith and kin, though might have lived at peace in Argos, alone of all my race shared with Heracles his labours, while he was yet with us, and now that he dwells in heaven, I keep these his children safe beneath my wing, though myself need protection. For when their father passed from earth away, Eurystheus would first of all have slain us, but we escaped. And though our home is lost, our life was saved.

But in exile we wander from city to city, ever forced to roam. For, added to our former wrongs, Eurystheus thought it fit to put this further outrage upon us: wheresoe'er he heard that we were settling, thither would he send heralds demanding our surrender and driving us from thence, holding out this threat, that Argos is no meal city to make a friend or foe, and furthermore pointing to his own prosperity.

So they, seeing how weak my means, and these little ones left without a father, bow to his superior might and drive us from their land. And I share the exile of these children, and help them bear their evil lot by my sympathy, loth to betray them, lest someone say, "Look you! now that the children's sire is dead, Iolaus no more protects them, kinsman though he is." Not one corner left us in the whole of Hellas, we are come to Marathon and its neighbouring land, and here we sit as suppliants at the altars of the gods, and pray their aid; for 'tis said two sons of Theseus dwell upon these plains, the lot of their inheritance, scions of Pandion's stock, related to these children; this the reason we have come on this our way to the borders of glorious Athens. To lead the flight two aged guides are we; my care is centred on these boys, while she, I mean Alcmena, clasps her son's daughter in her arms, and bears her for safety within this shrine, for we shrink from letting tender maidens come anigh the crowd or stand as suppliants at the altar. Now Hvllus and the elder of his brethren are seeking some place for us to find a refuge, if we are driven by force from this land. O children, children, come hither! hold unto my robe; for lo! I see a herald coming towards us from Eurystheus, by whom we are persecuted, wanderers excluded from every land. A curse on the and him that sent thee, hateful wretch! For that same tongue of thine hath oft announced its master's evil hests to these children's noble sire as well.

(COPREUS, the herald of EURYSTHEUS, enters.)

COPREUS

Doubtless thy folly lets thee think this is a good position to have taken up, and that thou art come to a city that will help thee. No! there is none that will prefer thy feeble arm to the might of Eurystheus. Begone! why take this trouble? Thou must arise and go to Argos, where awaits thee death by stoning.

IOLAUS

Not so, for the god's altar will protect me, and this land of freedom, wherein we have set foot.

COPREUS

Wilt give me the trouble of laying hands on thee?

IOLAUS

By force at least shalt thou never drag these children hence.

COPREUS

That shalt thou soon learn; it seems thou wert a poor prophet, after all, in this.

(COPREUS seizes the children.)

IOLAUS

This shall never happen while I live.

COPREUS

Begone! for I will take them hence, for all thy refusals, for I hold that they belong to Eurystheus, as they do indeed.

He throws IOLAUS to the ground.

IOLAUS

Help, ye who long have had your home in Athens! we suppliants at Zeus' altar in your market-place are being haled by force away, our sacred wreaths defiled, shame to your city, to the gods dishonour.

(The CHORUS OF AGED ATHENIANS enters.)

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Hark, hark! What cry is this that rises near the altar? At once explain the nature of the trouble.

IOLAUS

See this aged frame hurled in its feebleness upon the ground! Woe is me!

LEADER

Who threw thee down thus pitiably?

IOLAUS

Behold the man who flouts your gods, kind sirs, and tries by force to drag me from my seat before the altar of Zeus.

CHORUS (chanting)

From what land, old stranger, art thou come to this confederate state of four cities? Or have ye left Euboea's cliffs, and, with the oar that sweeps the sea, put in here from across the firth?

IOLAUS

Sirs, no island life I lead, but from Mycenae to thy land I come.

CHORUS (chanting)

What do they call thee, aged sir, those folk in Mycenae?

IOLAUS

Maybe ye have heard of Iolaus, the comrade of Heracles, for he was not unknown to fame.

CHORUS (chanting)

Yea, I have heard of him in bygone days; but tell me, whose are the tender boys thou bearest in thine arms?

IOLAUS

These, sirs, are the sons of Heracles, come as suppliants to you and your city.

CHORUS (chanting)

What is their quest? Are they anxious, tell me, to obtain an audience of the state?

IOLAUS

That so they may escape surrender, nor be torn with violence from thy altars, and brought to Argos.

COPREUS

Nay, this will nowise satisfy thy masters, who o'er thee have a right, and so have tracked thee hither.

CHORUS (chanting)

Stranger, 'tis but right we should reverence the gods' suppliants, suffering none with violent hand to make them leave the altars, for that will dread justice ne'er permit.

COPREUS

Do thou then drive these subjects of Eurystheus forth, and this hand of mine shall abstain from violence.

CHORUS (chanting)

'Twere impious for the state to neglect the suppliant stranger's prayer.

COPREUS

Yet 'tis well to keep clear of troubles, by adopting that counsel, which is the wiser.

LEADER

Thou then shouldst have told the monarch of this land thy errand before being so bold, out of regard to his country's freedom, instead of trying to drag strangers by force from the altars of the gods.

COPREUS

Who is monarch of this land and state?

LEADER

Demophon, son of gallant Theseus.

COPREUS

Surely it were most to the purpose to discuss this matter somewhat with him; all else has been said in vain.

LEADER

Lo! here he comes in person, in hot haste, and Acamas his brother, to hear what thou hast to say.

(DEMOPHON, Acamas, and their retinue enter.)

DEMOPHON

Since thou for all thy years hast outstripped younger men in coming to the rescue to this altar of Zeus, do thou tell me what hath chanced to bring this crowd together.

LEADER

There sit the sons of Heracles as suppliants, having wreathed the altar, as thou seest, O king, and with them is Iolaus, trusty comrade of their sire.

DEMOPHON

Why should this event have called for cries of pain?

LEADER turning to COPREUS

This fellow caused the uproar by trying to drag them forcibly from this altar, and he hurled down the old man, till my tears for pity flowed.

DEMOPHON

Hellenic dress and fashion in his robes doth he no doubt adopt, but deeds like these betray the barbarian. Thou, sirrah, tell me straight the country whence thou camest thither.

COPREUS

An Argive I; since that thou seek'st to know. Who sent me, and the object of my coming, will I freely tell. Eurystheus, king of Mycenae, sends me hither to fetch these back; and I have come, sir stranger, with just grounds in plenty, alike for speech or action. An Argive myself, Argives I come to fetch, taking with me these runaways from my native city, onwhom the doom of death was passed by our laws there; and we have right, since we rule our city independently, to ratify its sentences. And though they have come as suppliants to the altars of numerous others, we have taken our stand on these same arguments, and no one has ventured to bring upon himself evils of his own getting. But they have come hither, eitherbecause they perceived some folly in thee, or, in their perplexity, staking all on one risky throw to win or lose; for surely they do not suppose that thou, if so thou hast thy senses still, and only thou, in all the breadth of Hellas they have traversed, wilt pity their foolish troubles.

Come now, put argument against argument: what will be thy gain, suppose thou admitthem to thy land, or let us take them hence? From us these benefits are thine to win: this city can secure as friends Argos, with its far-reaching arm, and Eurystheus' might complete; whilst if thou lend an ear to their piteous pleading and grow soft, the matter must result in trial of arms; for be sure we shall not yield this struggle without appealing to the sword. What pretext wilt thou urge? Of what domains art thou robbed that thou shouldst take and wage war with the Tirynthian Argives? What kind of allies art thou aiding? For whom will they have fallen whom thou buriest?

Surely thou wilt get an evil name from the citizens, if for the sake of an old man near the grave, a mere shadow I may say, and for these children, thou wilt plunge into troublous waters. The best thou canst say is, that thou wilt find in them a hope, and nothing more; and yet this falls far short of the present need; for these would be but a poor match for Argives even when fully armed and in their prime, if haply that raises thy spirits; moreover, the time 'twixt now and then is long, wherein ye may be blottedout. Nay, hearken to me; give me naught, but let me take mine own, and so gain Mycenae; but forbear to act now, as is your Athenian way, and take the weaker side, when it is in thy power to choose the stronger as thy friends.

LEADER

Who can decide a cause or ascertain its merits, till from both sides he clearly learn what they would say?

IOLAUS

O king, in thy land I start with this advantage, the right to hear and speak in turn, and none, ere that, will drive me hence as elsewhere they would. 'Twixt us and him is naught in common, for we no longer have aught to do with Argos since that decree was passed, but we are exiles from our native land; how then can he justly drag us back as subjects ofMycenae, seeing that they have banished us? For we are strangers.

Or do ye claim that every exile from Argos is exiled from the bounds of Hellas? Not from Athens surely; for ne'er will she for fear of Argos drive the children of Heracles from her land. Here is no Trachis, not at all; no! nor that Achaean town, whence thou, defying justice, but boasting of themight of Argos in the very words thou now art using, didst drive the suppliants from their station at the altar. If this shall be, and they thy words approve, why then I trow this is no more Athens, the home of freedom.

Nay, but I know the temper and nature of these citizens; they would rather die, for honour ranks before mere life with men of worth. Enough of Athens! for excessive praise is apt to breed disgust; and oft ere now have myself felt vexed at praise that knows no bounds. But to thee, as ruler of this land, fain would show the reason why thou art bound to save these children. Pittheus was the son of Pelops; from him sprung Aethra, and from her Theseus thy sire was born. And now will I trace back these children's lineage for thee. Heracles was son of Zeus and Alcmena; Alcmena sprang from Pelops' daughter; therefore thy father and their father would be the sons of first cousins. Thus then art thou to them related, O Demophon, but thy just debt to them beyond the ties of kinship do I now declare to thee; for I assert, in days gone by, I was with Theseus on the ship, as their father's squire, when they went to fetch that girdle fraught with death; yea, and from Hades' murky dungeons did Heracles bring thy father up; as all Hellas doth attest. Wherefore in return they crave this boon of thee, that they be not surrendered up nor torn by force from the altars of thy gods and cast forth from the land. For this were shame on thee, and hurtful likewise in thy state, should suppliants, exiles, kith and kin of thine, be haled away by force. In pity cast one glance at them. I do entreat thee, laying my suppliant bough upon thee, by thy hands and beard, slight not the sons of Heracles, now that thou hast them in thy power to help. Show thyself their kinsman and their friend; be to them father, brother, lord; for better each and all of these than to fall beneath the Argives' hand.

LEADER

O king, I pity them, hearing their sad lot. Now more than ever do see noble birth o'ercome by fortune; for these, though sprung from noble sire, are suffering what they ne'er deserved.

DEMOPHON

Three aspects of the circumstance constrain me, Iolaus, not to spurn the guests thou bringest; first and foremost, there is Zeus, at whose altar thou art seated with these tender children gathered round thee; next come ties of kin, and the debt I owe to treat them kindly for their father's sake; and last, mine honour, which before all I must regard; for if I permit this altar to be violently despoiled by stranger hands, men will think the land I inhabit is free no more, and that through fear I have surrendered suppliants to Argives, and this comes nigh to make one hang oneself. Would that thou hadst come under a luckier star! yet, as it is, fear not that any man shall tear thee and these children from the altar by force.

(to COPREUS) Get thee to Argos and tell Eurystheus so; yea and more, if he have any charge against these strangers, he shall have justice; but never shalt thou drag them hence.

COPREUS

Not even if I have right upon my side and prove my case?

DEMOPHON

How can it be right to drag the suppliant away by force?

COPREUS

Well, mine is the disgrace; no harm will come to thee.

DEMOPHON

'Tis harm to me, if I let them be haled away by thee.

COPREUS

Banish them thyself, and then will I take them from elsewhere.

DEMOPHON

Nature made thee a fool, to think thou knowest better than the god.

COPREUS

It seems then evildoers are to find a refuge here.

DEMOPHON

A temple of the gods is an asylum open to the world.

COPREUS

Maybe they will not take this view in Mycenae.

DEMOPHON

What! am I not lord of this domain?

COPREUS

So long as thou injure not the Argives, and if wise, thou wilt not.

DEMOPHON

Be injured for all I care, provided I sin not against the gods.

COPREUS

I would not have thee come to blows with Argos.

DEMOPHON

I am of like mind in this; but I will not dismiss these from my protection.

COPREUS

For all that, I shall take and drag my own away.

DEMOPHON

Why then perhaps thou wilt find a difficulty in returning to Argos.

COPREUS

That shall I soon find out by making the attempt.

DEMOPHON

Touch them and thou shalt rue it, and that without delay.

LEADER

I conjure thee, never dare to strike a herald.

DEMOPHON

Strike I will, unless that herald learn discretion.

LEADER

Depart; and thou, O king, touch him not.

COPREUS

I go; for 'tis feeble fighting with a single arm. But I will come again, bringing hither a host of Argive troops, spearmen clad in bronze; for countless warriors are awaiting my return, and king Eurystheus in person at their head; anxiously he waits the issue here on the borders of Alcathous' realm. And when he hears thy haughty answer, he will burst upon thee, andthy citizens, on this land and all that grows therein; for all in vain should we possess such hosts of picked young troops in Argos, should we forbear to punish thee.

(COPREUS departs.)

DEMOPHON

Perdition seize thee! I am not afraid of thy Argos. Be very sure thou shalt not drag these suppliants hence by force, to my shame; for I hold not this city subject unto Argos, but independently.

CHORUS (singing)

'Tis time to use our forethought, ere the host of Argos approach our frontier, for exceeding fierce are the warriors of Mycenae, and in the present case still more than heretofore. For all heralds observe this custom, to exaggerate what happened twofold. Bethink the what a tale he will tell his master of his dreadful treatment, how he came near losing his life altogether.

IOLAUS

Children have no fairer prize than this, the being born of a good and noble sire, and the power to wed from noble families; but whoso is enslaved by passion and makes a lowborn match, I cannot praise for leaving to his children a legacy of shame, to gratify himself. For noble birth offers a stouter resistance to adversity than base parentage; for we, in the last extremity of woe, have found friends and kinsmen here, the only champions of these children through all the length and breadth of this Hellenic world. Give, children, give to them your hand, and they the same to you; draw near to them. Ah! children, we have made trial of our friends, and if ever ye see the path that leads you back to your native land, andpossess your home and the honours of your father, count them ever as your friends and saviours, and never lift against their land the foeman's spear, in memory of this, but hold this city first midst those ye love. Yea, they well deserve your warm regard, in that they have shifted from our shoulders to their own the enmity of so mighty a land as Argos and its people, though they saw we were vagabonds and beggars; still they did not give us up nor drive us forth. So while I live, and after death,-come when it will,-loudly will I sing thy praise, good friend, and will extol thee as I stand at Theseus' side, and cheer his heart, as I tell how thou didst give kind welcome and protection to the sons of Heracles, and how nobly thou dost preserve thy father's fame through the length of Hellas, and hast not fallen from the high estate to which thy father brought thee, a lot which few others can boast; for 'mongst the many wilt thou find one maybe, that is not degenerate from his sire.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

This land is ever ready in an honest cause to aid the helpless. Wherefore ere now it hath endured troubles numberless for friends, and now in this I see a struggle nigh at hand.

DEMOPHON

Thou hast spoken well, and I feel confident their conduct will be such; our kindness will they not forget. Now will I muster the citizens and set them in array, that I may receive Mycenae's host with serried ranks. But first will I send scouts to meet them, lest they fall upon me unawares; for at Argos every man is prompt to answer to the call, and I will assemble prophets and ordain a sacrifice. But do thou leave the altar of Zeus and go with the children into the house; for there are those who will care for thee, even though I be abroad. Enter then my house, old man.

IOLAUS

I will not leave the altar. Let us sit here still, praying for the city's fair success, and when thou hast made a glorious end of this struggle, will we go unto the house; nor are the gods who champion us weaker than the gods of Argos, O king; Hera, wife of Zeus, is their leader; Athena ours. And this I say is an omen of success, that we have the stronger deity, for Pallas will not brook defeat.

(DEMOPHON and his retinue go out.)

CHORUS (singing)

(strophe)

Though loud thy boasts, there be others care no more for thee for that, O stranger from the land of Argos; nor wilt thou scare my soul with swelling words. Not yet be this the fate of mighty Athens, beauteous town! But thou art void of sense, and so is he, who lords it o'er Argos, the son of Sthenelus,

(antistrophe)

thou that comest to another state, in no wise weaker than Argos, and, stranger that thou art, wouldst drag away by force suppliants of the gods, wanderers that cling to my land for help, refusing to yield to our king, nor yet having any honest plea to urge.

How can such conduct count as honourable, at least in wise men's judgment?

(epode)

I am for peace myself; yet I tell thee, wicked king, although thou come unto my city, thou shalt not get so easily what thou expectest. Thou art not the only man to wield a sword or targe with plates of brass.

Nay, thou eager warrior, I warn thee, bring not war's alarms against our lovely town; restrain thyself.

(DEMOPHON re-enters.)

IOLAUS

My son, why, prithee, art thou returned with that anxious look? Hast thou news of the enemy? Are they coming, are they here, or what thy tidings? For of a surety yon herald will not play us false. No! sure I am their captain, prosperous heretofore, will come, with thoughts exceeding proud against Athens. But Zeus doth punish overweening pride.

DEMOPHON

The host of Argos is come, and Eurystheus its king; my own eyes saw him, for the man who thinks he knows good generalship must see the foe not by messengers alone. As yet, however, he hath not sent his host into the plain, but, camped upon a rocky brow, is watching-I only tell thee what I think this means-to see by which road to lead his army hither without fighting, and how to take up a safe position in this land. However, all my plans are by this time carefully laid; the city is under arms, the victims stand ready to be slain to every god, whose due this is; my seers have filled the town with sacrifices, to turn the foe to flight and keep our country safe. All those who chant prophetic words have I assembled,and have examined ancient oracles, both public and secret, as means to save this city. And though the several answers differ in many points, yet in one is the sentiment of all clearly the same; they bid me sacrifice to Demeter's daughter some maiden from a noble father sprung. Now I, though in your cause I am as zealous as thou seest, yet will not slay my child,nor will I compel any of my subjects to do so against his will; for who of his own will doth harbour such an evil thought as to yield with his own hands the child he loves? And now thou mayest see angry gatherings, where some declare, 'tis right to stand by suppliant strangers, while others charge me with folly; but if I do this deed, a civil war is then and there at hand. Do thou then look to this and help to find a way to save yourselves and this country without causing me to be slandered by the citizens. For I am no despot like a barbarian monarch; but provided do what is just, just will my treatment be.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Can it be that heaven forbids this city to help strangers, when it hath the will and longing so to do?

IOLAUS

My children, we are even as those mariners, who have escaped the storm's relentless rage, and have the land almost within their reach, but after all are driven back from shore by tempests to the deep again. Even so we, just as we reach the shore in seeming safety, are being thrust back from this land. Ah me! Why, cruel hope, didst thou then cheer my heart,though thou didst not mean to make the boon complete?

The king may well be pardoned, if he will not slay his subjects' children; and with my treatment here I am content; if indeed 'tis heaven's will, I thus should fare, still is my gratitude to thee in no wise lost. Children, I know not what to do for you. Whither shall we turn? for what god's altar have we left uncrowned? to what fenced city have we failed to go? Ruin and surrender are our instant lot, poor children! If I must die, 'tis naught to me, save that thereby I give those foes of mine some cause for joy. But you, children, I lament and pity, and that aged mother of your sire, Alcmena. Ah, woe is thee for thy long span of life! and woe is me for all my idle toil! 'Twas after all our destined doom to fall into the hands of our hated foe, and die a death of shame and misery. But lend me thine aid, thou knowest how; for all hope of these children's safety has not yet left me. Give me up instead of them to the Argives, O king; run no risk, but let me save the children; to love my life becomes me not; let it pass. Me will Eurystheus be most glad to take and treat despitefully, as I was Heracles' companion; for the man is but a boor; wherefore wise men ought to pray to get a wise man for their foe, and not a proud senseless fool; for so, even if by fortune flouted, one would meet with much consideration.

LEADER

Old man, blame not this city; for though perhaps a gain to us, yet would it be a foul reproach that we betrayed strangers.

DEMOPHON

A generous scheme is thine, but impossible. 'Tis not in quest of the yon king comes marching hither; what would Eurystheus gain by the death of one so old? Nay, 'tis these children's blood he wants. For there is danger to a foe in the youthful scions of a noble race, whose memory dwells upon their father's wrongs; all this Eurystheus must foresee. But if thou hast any scheme besides, that better suits the time, be ready with it, for, since I heard that oracle, I am at a loss and full of fear.

(MACARIA enters from the temple.)

MACARIA

Sirs, impute not boldness to me, because I venture forth; this shall be my first request, for a woman's fairest crown is this, to practise silence and discretion, and abide at home in peace. But when I heard thy lamentations, Iolaus, I came forth, albeit I was not appointed to take the lead in my family. Still in some sense am I fit to do so, for these my brothers are my chiefest care, and I fain would ask, as touching myself, whether some new trouble, added to the former woes, is gnawing at thy heart.

IOLAUS

My daughter, 'tis nothing new that I should praise thee, as I justly may, above all the children of Heracles. Our house seemed to be prospering, when back it fell again into a hopeless state; for the king declares the prophets signify that he must order the sacrifice, not of bull or heifer, but of some tender maid of noble lineage, if we and this city are to exist. Herein is our perplexity; the king refuses either to sacrifice his own or any other's child. Wherefore, though he use not terms express, yet doth he hint, that, unless we find some way out of this perplexity, we must seek some other land, for he this country fain would save.

MACARIA

Are these indeed the terms on which our safety depends?

IOLAUS

Yea, on these; if, that is, we are successful otherwise.

MACARIA

No longer then cower before the hated Argive spear; for I, of my own free will, or ever they bid me, am ready to die and offer myself as a victim. For what excuse have we, if, while this city deems it right to incur great danger on our behalf, we, though we might save ourselves, fly from death, by foisting our trouble on others? No! indeed, 'twere surely most ridiculous to sit and mourn as suppliants of the gods, and show ourselves but cowards, children as we are of that illustrious sire. Where among the brave is such conduct seen? Better, I suppose, this city should be taken and I (which Heaven forefend!) fall into the hands of the enemy, and then, for all I am my noble father's child, meet an awful doom, and face theDeath-god none the less. Shall

I wander as an exile from this land? Shall I not feel shame then, when someone says, as say they will, "Why are ye come hither with suppliant boughs, loving your lives too well? Begone from our land! for we will not succour cowards." Nay, if these be slain and I alone be saved, I have no hope in any wise of being happy, though many ere now have in this hope betrayed their friends, For who will care to wed a lonely maid or make me mother of his children? 'Tis better I should die than meet such treatment, little as I merit it. This were fitter treatment for some other, one that is not born to fame as I am. Conduct me to the scene of death, crown me with garlands, and begin the rites, if so it please you; then be victorious o'er the foe, for here I offer my life freely and without constraint, and for my brothers and myself I undertake to die. For I, by loving not my life too well, have found a treasure very fair, a glorious means to leave it.

LEADER

Ah, what shall I say on hearing the maid's brave words, she that is ready to die for her brothers? Who can speak more noble words or do more noble deeds henceforth for ever?

IOLAUS

Daughter, thou art his own true child, no other man's but Heracles', that godlike soul; proud am I of thy words, though I sorrow for thy lot. Yet will I propose a fairer method: 'tis right to summon hither all the sisters of this maiden, and then let her, on whom the lot shall fall, die for her family; for that thou shouldst die without the lot is not just.

MACARIA

My death shall no chance lot decide; there is no graciousness in that; peace! Old friend. But if ye accept and will avail you of my readiness, freely do I offer my life for these, and without constraint.

IOLAUS

Ah, this is even nobler than thy former word; that was matchless, but thou dost now surpass thy bravery and noble speech. I cannot bid, will not forbid thy dying, O my daughter! for by thy death thou dost thy brothers serve.

MACARIA

A cautious bidding thine! Fear not to take a stain of guilt from me, only let me die as one whose death is free. Follow me, old friend, for in thy arms I fain would die; stand by and veil my body with my robe, for I will go even to the dreadful doom of sacrifice, seeing whose daughter I avow myself.

IOLAUS

I cannot stand by and see thee bleed.

MACARIA

At least do thou beg me this boon of the king, that I may breathe out my life in women's arms instead of men's.

DEMOPHON

It shall be so, unhappy maid; for this were shame to me to refuse the honour due, for many reasons: because thou hast a soul so brave; because 'tis right; and thou hast shown more courage than any of thy sex my eyes have ever seen. Now, if thou hast aught to say to these children or thy aged guide. oh! say the last thou hast to say-then go.

MACARIA

Farewell, old friend, farewell and prithee teach these children to be like thyself, wise at every point; let them strive no further, for that will suffice them. And seek to save them from death, even as thou art anxious to do; thy children are we, thy care it was that nurtured us. Thou seest how I yield my bridal bloom to die for them. For you, my brothers gathered here, may you be happy! and may every blessing be yours, for the which my blood shall pay the price! Honour this old friend, and her that is within the house, Alcmena, the aged mother of my sire, and these strangers too. And if ever heaven for you devise release from trouble and a return to your home, remember the burial due to her that saved you, funeral fair as I deserve; for I have not failed, but stood by you, and died to save my race. This shall be my pearl of price instead of children, and for the maiden life I leave, if there be really aught beyond the grave- God grant there may not be! For if, e'en there, we who are to die shall find a life of care, I know not whither one shall turn; for death is held a sovereign cure for every ill.

IOLAUS

Maiden of heroic soul, transcending all thy race, be sure the fame that thou shalt win from us, in life, in death, shall leave the rest of women far behind; farewell to thee! I dare not say harsh words of her to whom thou art devoted, the goddess-daughter of Demeter.

(DEMOPHON leads MACARIA away.)

Children, I am undone, grief unnerves my limbs; take hold and support me to a seat hard by, when ye have drawn my mantle o'er my face, my sons. For I am grieved at what hath happened, and yet, were it not fulfilled, we could not live; thus were our fate worse, though this is grief enough.

CHORUS (singing)

(strophe)

Without the will of heaven none is blest, none curst, I do maintain; nor doth the same house for ever tread the path of bliss; for one kind of fortune follows hard upon another; one man it brings to naught from his high estate, another though of no account it crowns with happiness. To shun what fate decrees, is no wise permitted; none by cunning shall thrust it from him; but he, who vainly would do so, shall have unceasing trouble.

(antistrophe)

Then fall not prostrate thou, but bear what heaven sends, and set limit to thy soul's grief; for she, poor maid! in dying for her brothers and this land, hath won a glorious death, and splendid fame shall be her meed from all mankind; for virtue's path leads through troublous ways. Worthy of her father, worthy of her noble birth is this she does. And if thou dost honour the virtuous dead, I share with thee that sentiment.

(The SERVANT OF HYLLUS enters.)

SERVANT OF HYLLUS

All hail, ye children! Where is aged Iolaus? where the mother of your 'sire, absent from their place at this altar?

IOLAUS

Here am I, so far as I can be here at all.

SERVANT

Why dost thou lie there? Why that downcast look?

IOLAUS

There is come a sorrow on my house, whereby I suffer.

SERVANT

Arise, lift up thy head.

IOLAUS

I am old, and all my strength is gone.

SERVANT

But I come with tidings of great joy for thee.

IOLAUS

Who art thou? Where have I met thee? I have no remembrance.

SERVANT

I am a vassal of Hyllus; dost not recognize me now?

IOLAUS

Best of friends, art thou come to save us twain from hurt?

SERVANT

Assuredly; and moreover thou art lucky in the present case.

IOLAUS

Alcmena, mother of a noble son, to thee I call! come forth, hear this welcome news.

For long has anguish caused thee inwardly to waste, wondering if those, who now are here, would ever come.

(ALCMENA enters from the temple in answer to the call.)

ALCMENA

What means that shout, that echoes throughout the house? Hath there come yet a herald from Argos, O Iolaus, and is he treating thee with violence? Feeble is any strength of mine; yet thus much let me tell thee, stranger, never, whilst I live, shalt thou drag them hence.

Shouldst thou succeed, no more let me be thought the mother of that hero. And if thou lay a finger on them, thou wilt struggle to thy shame with two aged foes.

IOLAUS

Courage, aged dame, fear not; not from Argos is a herald come, with hostile messages.

ALCMENA

Why then didst raise a cry, fear's harbinger?

IOLAUS

I called thee to come to me in front of this temple.

ALCMENA

I know not what it means; who is this?

IOLAUS

A messenger who says thy grandson cometh hither.

ALCMENA

All hail to thee for these thy tidings! But why is he not here, where is he? if in this land he hath set foot. What hath happened to keep him from coming hither with thee, to cheer my heart?

SERVANT

He is posting the army he brought with him, and seeing it marshalled.

ALCMENA

Then have I no concern herein.

IOLAUS

Yes, thou hast; though it is my business to inquire.

SERVANT

What then wouldst thou learn of these events?

IOLAUS

About how many allies has he with him?

SERVANT

A numerous force; I cannot otherwise describe the number.

IOLAUS

The leaders of the Athenians know this, I suppose?

SERVANT

They do; already is their left wing set in array.

IOLAUS

Is then the host already armed for battle?

SERVANT

Yea, and already are the victims brought near the ranks.

IOLAUS

About what distance is the Argive host from us?

SERVANT

Near enough for their general to be plainly seen.

IOLAUS

What is he about? marshalling the enemy's line?

SERVANT

So we guessed; we could not hear exactly. But I must go, for I would not that my master should engage the foe without me, if I can help it.

IOLAUS

I also will go with thee; for I like thee am minded, so it seems, to be there and help my friends.

SERVANT

It least of all becomes thee thus to utter words of folly.

IOLAUS

Far less to shrink from sharing with my friends the stubborn fight.

SERVANT

Mere looks can wound no one, if the arm do naught.

IOLAUS

Why, cannot I smite even through their shields?

SERVANT

Smite perhaps, more likely be smitten thyself.

IOLAUS

No foe will dare to meet me face to face.

SERVANT

Friend, the strength, that erst was thine, is thine no more.

IOLAUS

Well, at any rate, I will fight with as many as ever I did.

SERVANT

Small the weight thou canst throw into the balance for thy friends,

IOLAUS

Detain me not, when I have girded myself for action.

SERVANT

The power to act is thine no more, the will maybe is there.

IOLAUS

Stay here I will not, say what else thou wilt.

SERVANT

How shalt thou show thyself before the troops unarmed?

IOLAUS

There be captured arms within this shrine; these will I use, and, if I live, restore; and, if I am slain, the god will not demand them of me back. Go thou within, and from its peg take down a suit of armour and forthwith bring it to me. To linger thus at home is infamous, while some go fight, and others out of cowardice remain behind.

(The SERVANT goes into the temple.)

CHORUS (singing)

Not yet hath time laid low thy spirit, 'tis young as ever; but thy body's strength is gone. Why toil to no purpose? 'Twill do thee hurt and benefit our city little. At thy age thou shouldst confess thy error and let impossibilities alone. Thou canst in no way get thy vigour back again.

ALCMENA

What means this mad resolve to leave me with my children undefended here?

IOLAUS

Men must fight; and thou must look to them.

ALCMENA

And what if thou art slain? what safety shall I find?

IOLAUS

Thy son's surviving children will care for thee.

ALCMENA

Suppose they meet with some reverse? which Heaven forefend!

IOLAUS

These strangers will not give thee up, fear not.

ALCMENA

They are my last and only hope, I have no other.

IOLAUS

Zeus too, I feel sure, cares for thy sufferings.

ALCMENA

Ah! of Zeus will I never speak ill, but himself doth know whether he is just to me.

(The SERVANT enters from the temple, carrying the arms.)

SERVANT

Lo! here thou seest a full coat of mail; make haste to case thyself therein; for the strife is nigh, and bitterly doth Ares loathe loiterers; but if thou fear the weight of the armour, go now without it, and in the ranks do on this gear; meantime will I carry it.

IOLAUS

Well said! keep the harness ready to my hand, put a spear within my grasp, and support me on the left side, guiding my steps.

SERVANT

Am I to lead this warrior like a child?

IOLAUS

To save the omen, we must go without stumbling.

SERVANT

Would thy power to act were equal to thy zeal!

IOLAUS

Hasten; I shall feel it grievously, if I am too late for the battle.

SERVANT

'Tis thou who art slow, not I, though thou fanciest thou art doing wonders.

IOLAUS

Dost not mark how swift my steps are hasting?

SERVANT

I mark more seeming than reality in thy haste,

IOLAUS

Thou wilt tell a different tale when thou seest me there.

SERVANT

What shall I see thee do? I wish thee all success, at any rate.

IOLAUS

Thou shalt see me smite some foeman through the shield.

SERVANT

Perhaps, if ever we get there. I have my fears of that.

IOLAUS

Ah! would to Heaven that thou, mine arm, e'en as I remember thee in thy lusty youth, when with Heracles thou didst sack Sparta, couldst so champion me to-day! how I would put Eurystheus to flight! since he is to craven to wait the onslaught. For prosperity carries with it this error too, a reputation for bravery; for we think the prosperous man a master of all knowledge.

(IOLAUS and the SERVANT depart)

CHORUS (singing)

(strophe 1)

O earth, and moon that shines by night, and dazzling radiance of the god, that giveth light to man, bear the tidings to me, shout aloud to heaven for joy, and beside our ruler's throne, and in the shrine of grey-eyed Athene. For my fatherland and home will I soon decide the issue of the strife with the gleaming sword, because I have taken suppliants under my protection.

(antistrophe 1)

'Tis a fearful thing, that a city prosperous as Mycenae is, one famed for martial prowess, should harbour wrath against my land; still, my countrymen, it were a shameful thing in us to yield up suppliant strangers at the bidding of Argos. Zeus is on my side, I am not afraid; Zeus hath a favour unto me, as is my due; never by me shall gods be thought weaker than mortal men.

(strophe 2)

O dread goddess, thine the soil whereon we stand, thine this city, for thou art its mother, queen, and saviour; wherefore turn some other way the impious king, who leadeth a host from Argos with brandished lance against this land; for, such my worth, I little merit exile from my home.

(antistrophe 2)

For thy worship is aye performed with many a sacrifice, and never art thou forgotten as each month draweth to its close, when young voices sing and dancers' music is heard abroad, while on our wind-swept hill goes up the cry of joy to the beat of maidens' feet by night.

(The SERVANT enters.)

SERVANT

Mistress, the message that I bring is very short for thee to hear and fair for me, who stand before thee, to announce. O'er our foes we are victorious, and trophies are being set up, with panoplies upon them, taken from thy enemies.

ALCMENA

Best of friends! this day hath wrought thy liberty by reason of these tidings. But there still remains one anxious thought thou dost not free me from;-a thought of fear;-are those, whose lives I cherish, spared to me?

SERVANT

They are, and high their fame through all the army spreads.

ALCMENA

The old man Iolaus,-is he yet alive?

SERVANT

Aye, that he is, a hero whom the gods delight to honour.

ALCMENA

How so? Did he perform some deed of prowess?

SERVANT

He hath passed from age to youth once more.

ALCMENA

Thy tale is passing strange; but first I would that thou shouldst tell me how our friends won the day.

SERVANT

One speech of mine puts it all clearly before thee. When we had deployed our troops and marshalled them face to face with one another, Hyllus dismounted from his fourhorsed chariot and stood midway betwixt the hosts. Then cried he, "Captain, who art come from Argos, why cannot we leave this land alone? No hurt wilt thou do

Mycenae, if of one man thou rob her; come! meet me in single combat. and if thou slay me, take the children of Heracles away with thee, but, if thou fall, leave me to possess my ancestral honours and my home." The host cried yes! saying the scheme he offered was a fair one, both to rid them of their trouble and satisfy theirvalour. But that other, feeling no shame before those who heard the challenge or at his own cowardice, quailed, general though he was, to come within reach of the stubborn spear, showing himself an abject coward; yet with such a spirit he came to enslave the children of Heracles. Then did Hyllus withdraw to his own ranks again, and the prophets seeing that no reconciliation would be effected by single combat, began the sacrifice without delay and forthwith let flow from a human throat auspicious streams of blood. And some were mounting chariots, while others couched beneath the shelter of their shields, and the king of the Athenians, as a highborn chieftain should, would exhort his host-"Fellow-citizens, the land, that feeds you and that gave you birth, demands to-day the help of every man." Likewise Eurystheus besought his allies that they should scorn to sully the fame of Argos and

Mycenae. Anon the Etrurian trumpet sounded loud and clear, and hand to hand they rushed; then think how loudly clashed their ringing shields, what din arose of cries and groans confused! At first the onset of the Argive spearmen broke our ranks; then they in turn gave ground; next, foot to foot and man to man, they fought their stubborn fray, many falling the while. And either chief cheered on his men, "Sons of Athens! Ye who till the fields of Argos! ward from your land disgrace." Do all we could, and spite of every effort, scarce could we turn the Argive line in flight. When lo! old Iolaus sees Hyllus starting from the ranks, whereon he lifts his hands to him with a prayer to take him up into his chariot. Thereon he seized the reins and went hard after the horses of Eurystheus.From this point onward must I speak from hearsay, though hitherto as one whose own eyes saw. For as he was crossing Pallene's hill, sacred to the goddess Athene, he caught sight of Eurystheus' chariot, and prayed to Hebe and to Zeus, that for one single day he might grow young again and wreak his vengeance on his foes. Now must thou hear a wondrous tale: two stars settled on the horses' yokes and threw the chariot into dark shadow, whichat least so say our wiser folk-were thy son and Hebe; and from that murky gloom appeared that aged man in the form of a youth with strong young arms; then by the rocks of Sciron the hero Iolaus o'ertakes Eurystheus' chariot. And he bound his hands with gyves, and is bringing that chieftain once so prosperous as a trophy hither, whose fortune now doth preach a lesson, clear as day, to all the sons of men, that none should envy him, who seems to thrive, until they see his death; for fortune's moods last but a day.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

O Zeus, who puttest my foes to flight, now may I behold the day that frees me from cruel fear!

ALCMENA

At last, O Zeus, hast thou turned a favouring eye on my affliction; yet do I thank thee for what has happened. And though ere this I did not believe my son was gathered to the gods, now am I convinced thereof. My children, now at last from toil shall ye be free, free from him, whom hideous death awaits, Eurystheus; now shall ye behold your father's city, and setfoot in the land of your inheritance, and sacrifice to those ancestral gods, from whom ye have been debarred and forced to lead in strangers' lands a life of wretched vagrancy. But tell me, what sage purpose Iolaus nursed in his heart, that he spared the life of Eurystheus, for to my mind this is no wisdom, to catch a foe and wreak no vengeance on him.

SERVANT

'Twas his regard for thee, that thou might'st see him subject to thy hand, and triumph o'er him. Rest assured, 'twas no willing prisoner he made, but by strong constraint he bound him, for Eurystheus was loth indeed to come alive into thy presence and pay his penalty. Farewell, my aged mistress; I pray thee remember thy first promise when I was beginning my story; set me free; for, at such a time as this, sincerity becometh noble lips.

(The SERVANT departs.)

CHORUS (singing)

(strophe 1)

Sweet is the dance to me, whenso the clear-toned flute and lovely Aphrodite shed grace upon the feast; and a joyful thing too it is, trow, to witness the good luck of friends, who till then ne'er dreamt of it. For numerous is the offspring of Fate, that bringeth all to pass, and of Time, the son of Cronus.

(antistrophe 1)

Thine is the path of justice, O my city; this must no man wrest from thee, thy reverence for the gods, and, whoso denieth it of thee, draws nigh to frenzy's goal, with these plain proofs in view. Yea, for the god proclaims it clearly, by cutting short the bad man's pride in every case.

(strophe 2)

In heaven, mother, lives thy son, passed from earth away; that he went down to Hades' halls, his body burnt by the fire's fierce flame, is past belief; in golden halls reclined he has to wife Hebe, lovely nymph. Thou, O Hymen, hast honoured them, children both of Zeus.

(antistrophe 2)

Things for the most part form a single chain; for men say Athene used to champion their father, and now the citizens of that goddess have saved his children, and checked the insolence of him whose heart preferred violence to justice. God save me from such arrogance, such greed of soul!

(A MESSENGER enters. He is followed by guards who bring in EURYSTHEUS bound.)

MESSENGER

Mistress, though thine eyes see him, yet will I announce we have brought Eurystheus hither for thy pleasure, an unexpected sight, for him no less a chance he ne'er foresaw; for little he thought of ever falling into thy hands, what time he marched from Mycenae with his toil-worn warriors, to sack Athens, thinking himself far above fortune. But a power divine hath reversed our destinies, changing their position. Now Hyllus and brave Iolaus I left raising an image to Zeus, who routs the foe, for their triumphant victory, whilst they bid me bring this prisoner to thee, wishing to gladden thy heart; for 'tis the sweetest sight to see a foe fall on evil days after prosperity.

ALCMENA

Art come, thou hateful wretch? Hath justice caught thee then at last? First, turn thy head this way to me, and endure to look thy enemies in the face, for thou art no more the ruler, but the slave. Art thou the man-for this I fain would learn-who didst presume to heap thy insults on my son, who now is where he is, thou miscreant?

What outrage didst thou abstain from putting upon him? Thou that didst make him go down alive even to Hades, and wouldst send him with an order to slay hydras and lions? Thy other evil schemes I mention not, for to tell them were a tedious task for me. Nor did it content thee to venture thus far only; no! but from all Hellas wouldst thou drive me and my children, heaven's suppliants though we were, grey-beards some of us, and some still tender babes. But here hast thou found men and a free city, that feared not thee. Die in torment must thou, and e'en so wilt thou gain in every way, for one death is not thy due, after all the sorrow thou hast caused.

MESSENGER

Thou mayst not slay him.

ALCMENA

Then have we taken him captive in vain. But say, what law forbids his death?

MESSENGER

It is not the wiff of the rulers of this land.

ALCMENA

Why, what is this? Do they not approve of slaying enemies?

MESSENGER

Not such as they have taken alive in battle.

ALCMENA

Did Hyllus uphold this decision?

MESSENGER

He, I suppose, ought to have disobeyed the law of the land.

ALCMENA

The prisoner's life ought not to have been spared a moment.

MESSENGER

It was then that he was wronged, by not being slain at first.

ALCMENA

Why, then, he is still in time to pay his penalty.

MESSENGER

There is no one who will slay him now.

ALCMENA

I will; and yet I count myself someone.

MESSENGER

Well, thou wilt incur great blame, if thou do this deed.

ALCMENA

I love this city well; that cannot be gainsaid. But since this man hath fallen into my power, no mortal hand shall wrest him from me. Wherefore let who will, call me the woman bold, with thoughts too high for her sex; yet shall this deed be brought to pass by me.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Lady, full well I understand thou hast a dire quarrel with this man, and 'tis pardonable.

EURYSTHEUS

Woman, be sure I will not flatter thee nor say aught to save my life, that can give any occasion for a charge of cowardice. It was not of my own free will I took this quarrel up; I am aware that I was born thy cousin, and kinsman to Heracles, thy son; but whether I would or no, Hera, by her power divine, caused me to be afflicted thus.

Still, when undertook to be his foe, and when I knew I had to enter on this struggle, I set myself to devise trouble in plenty, and oft from time to time my midnight communing bore fruit, scheming how to push aside and slay my foes, and for the future divorce myself from fear; for I knew that son of thine was no mere cipher, but a man indeed; yea, for, though he was my foe, I will speak well of him, because he was a man of worth. Now, after he was taken hence, was I not forced, by reason of these children's hatred, and because I was conscious of an hereditary feud, to leave no stone unturned by slaying, banishing, and plotting against them? So long as I did so, my safety was assured. Suppose thyself hadst had my lot, wouldst not thou have set to harassing the lion's angry whelps, instead of letting them dwell at Argos undisturbed? Thou wilt not persuade us otherwise. Now therefore, since they did not slay me then, when I was prepared to die, by the laws of Hellas my death becomes a curse on him who slays me now. The city wisely let me go, in that she regarded the gods more than her hatred of me. Thouhast had my answer to thy words; henceforth must I be called avenging spirit and noble hero too. 'Tis even thus with me; to die have I no wish, but, if I leave my life, I shall in no way be grieved.

LEADER

Alcmena, fain I would advise thee somewhat; let this man go, for 'tis the city's will.

ALCMENA

Suppose he die, and yet I obey the city?

LEADER

That would be best of all; but how can this be?

ALCMENA

I will teach thee easily. I will slay him and then give up his corpse to those of his friends who come for it, for, as regards his body, I will not disobey the state; but by his death shall he pay me the penalty.

EURYSTHEUS

Slay me, I do not ask thee for mercy; yet since this city let me go and shrunk from slaying me, I will reward it with an old oracle of Loxias, which in time will benefit them more than doth appear. Bury my body after death in its destined grave in front of the shrine of the virgin goddess at Pallene. And I will be thy friend and guardian of thy city for ever, where I lie buried in a foreign soil, but a bitter foe to these children's descendants, whensoe'er with gathered host they come against this land, traitors to your kindness now; such are the strangers ye have championed. Why then came I hither, if I knew all this, instead of regarding the god's oracle? Because I thought, that Hera was mightier far than any oracle, and would not betray me.

Waste no drink-offering on my tomb, nor spill the victim's blood; for I will requite them for my treatment here with a journey they shall rue; and ye shall have double gain from me, for I will help you and harm them by my death.

ALCMENA

Why, why delay to kill this man, after hearing this, since this is needed to secure the safety of your city and your children? Himself points out the safest road. Though the man is now our foe, yet after death is he our gain. Away with him, ye servants, and cast him to the dogs when ye have slain him. Think not thou shalt live to cast me forth from my native land again.

(The guards lead out EURYSTHEUS.)

CHORUS (chanting)

I agree. Lead on, servants. Our conduct shall bring no stain of guilt upon our rulers.

THE END

Philoctetes Introduction

To conclude, we've decided to present you with the last seven pages of Sophocles' masterpiece Philoctetes (409BC). The reason for this tiny gobbet of this excellent play is that it is the moment leading up to the deus ex machina scene; and the deus (or the 'theos' if you want to stick with Greek) in question is none other than Heracles.

Thus our journey through the life, labours, death, legacy and now deification of our hero is finally complete.

For those unfamiliar with the story, here's a quick précis of the action leading up to line 1261:

Greek hero Philoctetes was abandoned on the island of Lemnos for ten years by the other heroes of the Trojan War. This was because he had a festering wound in his foot that smelled so bad nobody could stand it. He puts the blame at Odysseus' door for this enforced sojourn.

However, an oracle has told the Greeks that Troy will not fall without the aid of the magic, never-erring, bow of Heracles – the bow which is in Philoctetes' possession. Thus, the Greeks have sent Odysseus (Latinized to Ulysses here) and Neoptolemus (Achilles’ son) to Lemnos to try and recover both Philoctetes and the bow and bring them back to Troy. At Troy, Philoctetes will have his wound healed and the bow can be used to win the war.

The two heroes have so far failed in their task and are at odds with each other as to how they should proceed: steal the bow and kill Philoctetes? Coerce him to come with them? Capture him? Plead with him? Odysseus, perhaps as no surprise to anyone, is in favour of all the nefarious means while Neoptolemus wants to play nice.

We enter the action just as Neoptolemus and Odysseus have had a blazing row and Odysseus has stormed off the stage...

Philoctetes

By Sophocles

Translated by Thomas Francklin

Lines 1261ff.

NEOPTOLEMUS (He approaches the cave and calls.)

Ho! son of Poeas! Philoctetes, leave

Thy rocky habitation, and come forth.

PHILOCTETES  (from the cave)

What noise was that? Who calls on Philoctetes?

(He comes out.)

Alas! what would you, strangers? Are you come

To heap fresh miseries on me?

NEOPTOLEMUS

Be of comfort,

And bear the tidings which I bring.

PHILOCTETES

I dare not;

Thy flattering tongue hath betrayed me.

NEOPTOLEMUS

And is there then no room for penitence?

PHILOCTETES

Such were thy words, when, seemingly sincere,

Yet meaning ill, thou stolst my arms away.

NEOPTOLEMUS

But now it is not so. I only came

To know if thou art resolute to stay,

Or sail with us.

PHILOCTETES

No more of that; 'tis vain

And useless all.

NEOPTOLEMUS

Art thou then fixed?

PHILOCTETES

I am;

It is impossible to say how firmly.

NEOPTOLEMUS

I thought I could have moved thee, but I've done.

PHILOCTETES

'Tis well thou hast; thy labour had been vain;

For never could my soul esteem the man

Who robbed me of my dearest, best possession,

And now would have me listen to his counsels-

Unworthy offspring of the best of men!

Perish th' Atreidae! perish first Ulysses!

Perish thyself!

NEOPTOLEMUS

Withhold thy imprecations,

And take thy arrows back.

PHILOCTETES

A second time

Wouldst thou deceive me?

NEOPTOLEMUS

By th' almighty power

Of sacred Jove I swear.

PHILOCTETES

O joyful sound!

If thou sayst truly.

NEOPTOLEMUS

Let my actions speak.

Stretch forth thy hand, and take thy arms again.

(As NEOPTOLEMUS gives the bow and arrows to PHILOCTETES, ULYSSES suddenly enters.)

ULYSSES

Witness ye gods! Here, in the name of Greece

And the Atreidae, I forbid it.

PHILOCTETES

Ha!

What voice is that? Ulysses'?

ULYSSES

Aye, 'tis I-

I who perforce will carry thee to Troy

Spite of Achilles' son.

PHILOCTETES

(He aims an arrow directly at ULYSSES.)

Not if I aim

This shaft aright.

NEOPTOLEMUS

(laying hold of him)

Now, by the gods, I beg thee

Stop thy rash hand!

PHILOCTETES

Let go my arm.

NEOPTOLEMUS

I will not.

PHILOCTETES

Shall I not slay my enemy?

NEOPTOLEMUS

Oh, no!

'Twould cast dishonour on us both.

(ULYSSES hastily departs.)

PHILOCTETES

Thou knowst,

These Grecian chiefs are loud pretending boasters,

Brave but in tongue, and cowards in the field.

NEOPTOLEMUS

I know it; but remember, I restored

Thy arrows to thee, and thou hast no cause

For rage or for complaint against thy friend.

PHILOCTETES

I own thy goodness. Thou hast shown thyself

Worthy thy birth; no son of Sisyphus,

But of Achilles, who on earth preserved

A fame unspotted, and amongst the dead

Still shines superior, an illustrious shade.

NEOPTOLEMUS

Joyful I thank thee for a father's praise,

And for my own; but listen to my words,

And mark me well. Misfortunes, which the gods

Inflict on mortals, they perforce must bear:

But when, oppressed by voluntary woes,

They make themselves unhappy, they deserve not

Our pity or our pardon. Such art thou.

Thy savage soul, impatient of advice,

Rejects the wholesome counsel of thy friend,

And treats him like a foe; but I will speak,

Jove be my witness! Therefore hear my words,

And grave them in thy heart. The dire disease

Thou long hast suffered is from angry heaven,

Which thus afflicts thee for thy rash approach

To the fell serpent, which on Chrysa's shore

Watched o'er the sacred treasures. Know beside,

That whilst the sun in yonder east shall rise,

Or in the west decline, distempered still

Thou ever shalt remain, unless to Troy

Thy willing mind transport thee. There the sons

Of Aesculapius shall restore thee- there

By my assistance shalt thou conquer Troy.

I know it well; for that prophetic sage,

The Trojan captive Helenus, foretold

It should be so. "Proud Troy (he added then)

This very year must fall; if not, my life

Shall answer for the falsehood." Therefore yield.

Thus to be deemed the first of Grecians, thus

By Poeas' favourite sons to be restored,

And thus marked out the conqueror of Troy,

Is sure distinguished happiness.

PHILOCTETES

O life!

Detested, why wilt thou still keep me here?

Why not dismiss me to the tomb! Alas!

What can I do? How can I disbelieve

My generous friend? I must consent, and yet

Can I do this, and look upon the sun?

Can I behold my friends- will they forgive,

Will they associate with me after this?

And you, ye heavenly orbs that roll around me,

How will ye bear to see me linked with those

Who have destroyed me, e'en the sons of Atreus,

E'en with Ulysses, source of all my woes?

My sufferings past I could forget; but oh!

I dread the woes to come; for well I know

When once the mind's corrupted it brings forth

Unnumbered crimes, and ills to ills succeed.

It moves my wonder much that thou, my friend,

Shouldst thus advise me, whom it ill becomes

To think of Troy. I rather had believed

Thou wouldst have sent me far, far off from those

Who have defrauded thee of thy just right,

And gave thy arms away. Are these the men

Whom thou wouldst serve?

whom thou wouldst thus compel me

To save and to defend? It must not be.

Remember, O my son! the solemn oath

Thou gav'st to bear me to my native soil.

Do this, my friend, remain thyself at Scyros,

And leave these wretches to be wretched still.

Thus shalt thou merit double thanks, from me

And from thy father; nor by succour given

To vile betrayers prove thyself as vile.

NEOPTOLEMUS

Thou sayst most truly. Yet confide in heaven,

Trust to thy friend, and leave this hated place.

PHILOCTETES

Leave it! For whom? For Troy and the Atreidae?

These wounds forbid it.

NEOPTOLEMUS

They shall all be healed,

Where I will carry thee.

PHILOCTETES

An idle tale

Thou tellst me. surely; dost thou not?

NEOPTOLEMUS

I speak

What best may serve us both.

PHILOCTETES

But, speaking thus,

Dost thou not fear the' offended gods?

NEOPTOLEMUS

Why fear them?

Can I offend the gods by doing good?

PHILOCTETES

What good? To whom?

To me or to the' Atreidae?

NEOPTOLEMUS

I am thy friend, and therefore would persuade thee.

PHILOCTETES

And therefore give me to my foes.

NEOPTOLEMUS

Alas!

Let not misfortunes thus transport thy soul

To rage and bitterness.

PHILOCTETES

Thou wouldst destroy me.

NEOPTOLEMUS

Thou knowst me not.

PHILOCTETES

I know th' Atreidae well,

Who left me here.

NEOPTOLEMUS

They did; yet they perhaps,

E'en they, O Philoctetes!

may preserve thee.

PHILOCTETES

I never will to Troy.

NEOPTOLEMUS

What's to be done?

Since I can ne'er persuade thee, I submit;

Live on in misery.

PHILOCTETES

Then let me suffer;

Suffer I must; but, oh! perform thy promise;

Think on thy plighted faith, and guard me home

Instant, my friend, nor ever call back Troy

To my remembrance; I have felt enough

From Troy already.

NEOPTOLEMUS

Let us go; prepare!

PHILOCTETES

O glorious sound!

NEOPTOLEMUS

Bear thyself up.

PHILOCTETES

I will,

If possible.

NEOPTOLEMUS

But how shall I escape

The wrath of Greece?

PHILOCTETES

Oh! think not of it.

NEOPTOLEMUS

What

If they should waste my kingdom?

PHILOCTETES

I'll be there.

NEOPTOLEMUS

Alas! what canst thou do?

PHILOCTETES

And with these arrows

Of my Alcides-

NEOPTOLEMUS

Ha! What sayst thou?

PHILOCTETES

Drive

Thy foes before me. Not a Greek shall dare

Approach thy borders.

NEOPTOLEMUS

If thou wilt do this,

Salute the earth, and instant hence. Away!

(HERCULES appears from above, and speaks as he moves forward.)

HERCULES

Stay, son of Poeas! Lo to thee 'tis given

Once more to see and hear thy loved Alcides,

Who for thy sake hath left yon heavenly mansions,

And comes to tell thee the decrees of Jove;

To turn thee from the paths thou meanst to tread,

And guide thy footsteps right. Therefore attend.

Thou knowst what toils, what labours I endured,

Ere I by virtue gained immortal fame;

Thou too like me by toils must rise to glory-

Thou too must suffer, ere thou canst be happy;

Hence with thy friend to Troy, where honour calls,

Where health awaits thee- where, by virtue raised

To highest rank, and leader of the war,

Paris, its hateful author, shalt thou slay,

Lay waste proud Troy, and send thy trophies home,

Thy valour's due reward, to glad thy sire

On Oeta's top. The gifts which Greece bestows

Must thou reserve to grace my funeral pile,

And be a monument to after-ages

Of these all-conquering arms. Son of Achilles

(Turning to NEOPTOLEMUS)

For now to thee I speak, remember this,

Without his aid thou canst not conquer Troy,

Nor Philoctetes without thee succeed;

Go then, and, like two lions in the field

Roaming for prey, guard ye each other well;

My Aesculapius will I send e'en now

To heal thy wounds-Then go, and conquer Troy;

But when you lay the vanquished city waste.

Be careful that you venerate the gods;

For far above all other gifts doth Jove,

Th' almighty father, hold true piety:

Whether we live or die, that still survives

Beyond the reach of fate, and is immortal.

PHILOCTETES  (chanting)

Once more to let me hear that wished-for

voice,

To see thee after so long time, was bliss

I could not hope for. Oh! I will obey

Thy great commands most willingly.

NEOPTOLEMUS  (chanting)

And I.

HERCULES  (chanting)

Delay not then. For lo! a prosperous wind

Swells in thy sail. The time invites. Adieu!

(HERCULES disappears above.)

PHILOCTETES  (chanting)

I will but pay my salutations here,

And instantly depart. To thee, my cave,

Where I so long have dwelt, I bid farewell!

And you, ye nymphs, who on the watery plains

Deign to reside, farewell! Farewell the noise

Of beating waves, which I so oft have heard

From the rough sea, which by the black winds driven

O'erwhelmed me, shivering. Oft th' Hermaean mount

Echoed my plaintive voice, by wintry storms

Afflicted, and returned me groan for groan.

Now, ye fresh fountains, each Lycaean spring,

I leave you now. Alas! I little thought

To leave you ever. And thou sea-girt isle,

Lemnos, farewell! Permit me to depart

By thee unblamed, and with a prosperous gale

To go where fate demands, where kindest friends

By counsel urge me, where all-powerful Jove

In his unerring wisdom hath decreed.

CHORUS  (chanting)

Let us be gone, and to the ocean nymphs

Our humble prayers prefer, that they would all

Propitious smile, and grant us safe return.

THE END