B00ARI2G5C EBOK
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PHORCYAS. Nothing? Oh, that word is grief!
HELEN. Why, what grief is this?
PHORCYAS. You, lady, are the victim he intends.
HELEN. I?
PHORCYAS. These women too.
CHORUS. Oh horror!
PHORCYAS. By the axe-blade you must fall.
HELEN. Dreadful fate! And yet I guessed it.
PHORCYAS. I can see no remedy.
CHORUS. What of us? Oh what will happen?
PHORCYAS. She shall die a noble death:
As for you, from the high beam there that supports the gabled roof,
You shall hang and you shall wriggle like snared thrushes in a row.
[HELEN and the CHORUS stand grouped in studied expressive attitudes of amazement and terror.]
Ghosts that you are! —Like frozen statues there you stand,
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Fearing the daylight’s loss that is not yours to lose!
Mankind, for they are ghosts like you, the lot of them,
Renounce the sun’s bright rays no less reluctantly;
But there’s no prayer, no help for them against dark fate;
And this is known to all of them, but pleases few.
Enough, you all are doomed; let us make ready then!
[She claps her hands, and masked, dwarf-like figures appear at the door, who quickly carry out her instructions as she speaks.]
Come out, you gloomy globular monstrosities!
Roll up, roll up; here’s mischief to delight your hearts.
Bring first the gold-horned altar, set it in its place,
And let the axe lie gleaming on its silver rim;
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Fill up the water-jugs, for we shall have to wash
Away the black blood’s hideous defiling stain.
Next bring the costly carpet, spread it in the dust,
For on her knees the royal victim here must die,
But then at once, wrapped up, though headless to be sure,
Have decent seemly burial, as befits her rank.
CHORUS LEADER. The queen, my mistress, stands aside and meditates,
The girls are wilting like mown grass on meadowlands;
But being the eldest I, as sacred duty bids,
Would speak with you now, great-great-ancient of us all.
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You are experienced, wise, and seem to wish us well,
Although these brainless creatures showed you scant respect.
Say, therefore, if you know some chance of saving us.
PHORCYAS. The answer’s easy, for the queen alone may choose
To save herself and you too, her appendages;
But swift resolve is needed, there must be no delay.
CHORUS. Wise and venerated sibyl, oldest, noblest of the Fates,
Close your golden shears, and tell us rather how to save our lives,
For our little limbs already seem to sway and swing and dangle,
And the feeling is unpleasant: all their pleasure was in dancing
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And in some dear boy’s embrace.
HELEN. Let these be fearful; I feel sorrow, but no fear.
And yet, if you could save us, we would show gratitude.
The wise and circumspect indeed may often find a way
To do the impossible; therefore tell us what you know.
CHORUS. Speak and tell us, tell us quickly: how shall we escape the dreadful
Deadly snares that now are hanging like a doleful necklace round us,
Knots of peril drawing closer? In advance, alas, we feel them
Choking, throttling us already: will you, Rhea, noble mother
Of the gods, not pity us?
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PHORCYAS. Have you the patience, as my long account unfolds,
To listen quietly? Many tales I have to tell.
CHORUS. Patience enough! To listen is to be still alive!
PHORCYAS. One who remains at home and guards the house’s wealth,
Or keeps its high and noble walls in good repair
And can protect its roof from the intrusive rain,
Shall have good fortune and a life of many days.
But one who wantonly and lightly oversteps
The threshold’s sacred boundary with fugitive feet
Will find, returning, that although the walls still stand,
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All else has suffered change or even been destroyed.
HELEN. What is the point here of these well-known platitudes?
Tell us your tale, and let vexatious matters be.
PHORCYAS. I speak historically, intending no reproach.
King Menelaus sailed piratically to and fro,
Attacking bays and shores and islands at his whim,
Bringing rich booty back from every port of call.
The siege of Troy, that venture took him ten long years,
And how much longer to return I cannot say.
But here at home, how stands the high-exalted house
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Of Tyndareus, how stands his kingdom round about?
HELEN. Is a censorious nature so ingrained in you
That your mouth opens only to upbraid and scold?
PHORCYAS. A mountain region, desolate for many years,
Rises to Sparta’s north, with high Taÿgetus
Behind it; there Eurotas takes its origin,
A lively stream at first, then broad between the reeds
Down-rolling through our valley where it feeds your swans.
Unnoticed there among those sheltering heights, a bold
Invading race has settled: from Cimmerian night
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Southwards they pressed, and built unconquerable towers,
A fortress whence to plague our people as they please.
HELEN. It seems impossible: how did they accomplish this?
PHORCYAS. It took them twenty years or so, but they had time.
HELEN. Are they confederate bandits, or is one their king?
PHORCYAS. They are not bandits; one is ruler of them all,
And not ignoble, though I too have felt his power:
He could have taken everything, but was satisfied
Not, as he said, with tribute, but with a few gifts.
HELEN. What does he look like?
PHORCYAS. Even I find him not at all
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Displeasing. He is well-proportioned, confident
And lively too, and more intelligent than most Greeks.
They call his people barbarous, but none of them,
I think, could match the cruelty of those cannibal-
Heroes, those many ogres at the siege of Troy.
He is magnanimous, I would trust myself to him.
As for his castle, that’s a sight you should behold!
Quite different from these great crude lumps of masonry
Your forebears have thrown up here higgle-pigglewise,
In Cyclopean fashion hurling one gross rock
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Grossly upon the next! What he constructs is all
Straight lines across and up and down and regular.
Just look from outside, how it strives up heavenwards,
So rigid, so well-joined, and mirror-smooth as steel!
No climbing here, no foothold even for the thought.
Great courtyards too in the interior, with all kinds
Of buildings round them, for all manner of purposes:
Columns and little columns, arches large and small
You’ll see there; balconies, galleries to look out and in,
And coats of arms.
CHORUS. Why, what are coats of arms?
PHORCYAS. You will
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Recall the shield of Ajax, with its intertwined
Snakes, and how each of those seven fighters against Thebes
Bore such a shield-device of rich significance:
They showed the moon, the stars against the
night-dark sky,
Goddesses, heroes, a siege-ladder, torches, swords,
And other such fierce perils, all good cities’ bane.
Such emblems they have too, our northern warrior-host,
Bright-hued, to symbolize their ancient ancestors:
Lions and eagles you will see there, beaks and claws,
The horns of wild bulls, wings and roses, peacocks’ tails,
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And stripes of gold and black and silver, blue and red.
Such things they hang in rows upon the walls, in halls
Vast beyond measure, halls as wide as all the world;
Halls good for dancing.
CHORUS. Are there dancers there as well?
PHORCYAS. The very best! Fresh youngsters, boys with golden hair;
They smell of youth; who else but Paris smelt so sweet
When he approached the queen too closely?
HELEN. It is not
Your part to speak of that; finish your narrative!
PHORCYAS. The last word’s yours: take thought, give your consent aloud,
And I’ll at once surround you with that castle.
CHORUS. Say,
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Oh say that brief word, save yourself and us as well!
HELEN. What, have I cause to fear the king my husband would
Commit such cruel outrage as to injure me?
PHORCYAS. Have you forgotten the slain Paris’s brother, your
Deïphobus, who won you widowed, and in head-
Strong lust, enjoyed you? And how monstrously the king
Then mutilated him, cut off his nose and ears
And various other parts? A dreadful sight it was.
HELEN. Indeed he did that to him, did it because of me.
PHORCYAS. And now because of him hell do the same to you.
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Beauty cannot be shared; who once possessed it whole
Destroys it rather, cursing all co-partnership.
[Trumpets in the distance. The CHORUS starts in alarm.]
Sharp as the trumpet blares, ear-splitting, tearing deep
Into our guts, just so the claws of jealousy
Clutch at a man’s heart; for he never can forget
What he possessed, and lost, and now does not possess.
CHORUS. Do you not hear the sound of war-horns? Do you not see the weapons flash?
PHORCYAS. Lord and king, I bid you welcome! I will give full reckoning.
CHORUS. What of us?
PHORCYAS. I told you plainly; her death stares you in the face,
And in there your own awaits you. There’s no way you can be saved.
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[A pause.]
HELEN. I have considered what step now I dare to take.
You are a hostile demon, as I clearly sense,
And in your hands, I fear, evil will come of good.
But to the castle I consent to follow you:
That first. The rest I know; what thoughts in doing this
The queen may leave unuttered in her inmost heart,
These let no man discern. Old woman, now lead on!
CHORUS. Oh how gladly we set out
And hasten to follow her!
Behind us is death,
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And before us once again
The unassailable wall
Of a towering fortress:
May it protect us safely,
Just as safely as Troy’s battlements,
For they indeed were breached
Only by contemptible cunning.
[Clouds envelop the background and foreground, spreading ad libitum.]
But what is this?
Look about you, sisters!
Was it not clear daylight?
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Trails of mist are drifting up
From Eurotas’s sacred stream;
Already its delightful banks,
Garlanded with reeds, have vanished;
And the swans, so gently and
Freely gliding, so graceful and proud,
Swimming companionably together,
Alas, I see them no more!
And yet, and yet
I can hear them singing,
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Far away, with veiled voices—
A song that presages death, they say!
Oh let it not also foretell
Our own destruction in the end
Instead of the promised rescue;
Death for us all, the swan-like,
With our beautiful long white necks,
And for our lady, the swan-begotten.
Woe, ah woe to us all!
Mist already has veiled
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All that surrounded us.
We can no longer see each other!
What is happening? Are we walking,
Or merely hovering
With dainty steps over the ground?
Do you see nothing? Is Hermes perhaps not
Hovering ahead of us? Is that not the glint
Of his golden staff, beckoning, commanding us
Back again to that dismal place of grey dawning,
The place full of intangible shapes:
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Back to the overfilled, ever empty Hades?
Yes, a sudden gloom descending robs of light the mist’s dispersal;
All is dark grey, brown as walls are; walls rear up against our eyes here,
Our free eyes, walled in so sternly: by a courtyard? by a dungeon?
Either is a dreadful prison! Sisters, once again we are captives,
Captive more than ever now!
12.THE INNER COURTYARD OF A CASTLE
[Surrounded by buildings in a rich fantastic medieval style.]
CHORUS LEADER. How rash and foolish, truly womanish you are,
Dependent on the moment, changeable as air,
As luck and ill luck, bearing neither of the two
With equanimity! Normally your squabbling tongues
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Are all at variance with each other; only when
Joy or affliction strikes you do you howl and laugh
In the same tune. Be silent now, and wait to hear
The queen’s decision for herself and all of us.
HELEN. Where are you, Pythian priestess, or whatever you are?
Come out to us from this grim castle’s vaulted halls!
If you have gone perhaps to announce me to the strange
Warrior lord, that he may now receive me well,
I thank you; take me to him quickly! All I want
Now is an end to wandering. All I ask is rest.
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CHORUS LEADER. Vainly you search, oh queen; for that offending shape
Has vanished from our sight, or stayed behind perhaps
Deep in the fog, out of the midst of which somehow
We have come here so swiftly, taking not a step;
Or dubiously perhaps she wanders in the labyrinth
Of this miraculous castle, many merged in one,
Seeking its master for your royal reception’s sake.
But look, already many servants are astir,
Up there in galleries, windows, portals, to and fro
They move with haste: all this proclaims the guest shall be
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Received with pomp and with a lordly welcoming.
CHORUS. My spirits revive! Oh look now, oh look
How with solemn step, with seemliest gait,
In formal procession those many sweet youths
Come down towards us! How, and on whose
Command do they appear, so swiftly assembled
And ordered, this splendid host of young boys?
What shall I admire most: their delicate tread,
Or the hair that curls round their shining brows,
Or their cheeks perhaps that are pink as peaches
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And covered like peaches with softest down?
>
I long for a bite, yet I dread it too:
I have heard of a fruit that could fill the mouth
Of the eater with horrible ashes.*
But the handsomest ones
Are approaching now;
What are they bringing?
Steps for a throne,
A carpet, a seat,
Curtains, a canopy
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Richly adorned;
Like clouds it surmounts
The head of our queen,
Like a cloudy garland;
For already she sits,
As invited, on the place of majesty.
Oh step by step
Let us now approach her
In solemn array.
Worthy, oh worthy, thrice worthy
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And thrice blessed be this noble reception!
[All these actions have been taking place as the CHORUS described them. After a long procession of pages and squires has descended, FAUST appears at the top of the stairway dressed as a medieval knight. He comes down slowly and with dignity.]
CHORUS LEADER [gazing at him].
Unless the gods have done here as they sometimes do,
Conferring on him only fleetingly a wondrous form,
A lofty dignity, a presence to enchant
But only for a while: then shall this prince succeed
In all he undertakes, whether in wars with men
Or in the lesser war with the fairest of our sex.
For truly he is to be preferred to many whom I
Have seen, though greatly I admired them none the less.
With slow and solemn, with restrained respectful pace
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This lord draws near; now turn your eyes to him, oh queen!
FAUST [approaching, with a man in chains at his side].
Not here the solemn greeting that was due*
The ceremonious welcome: instead I bring
To you that servant, closely bound in chains,
Who robbed me of my duty, failing his.
Kneel here, to make confession of your guilt
To this most noble lady! This, great queen,
Is the possessor of rare far-seeing eyes
Whom I appointed to the high look-out tower,
Thence to observe whatever showed itself
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In heaven’s surrounding space and the wide earth:
He was to watch whatever stirred within
The circle of the hills, or in the valley,
Or near the castle, be it flocks and herds
Or an invading army; we protect
The former, stand against the latter. But
Today, what dereliction! You arrive,
And he does not announce you. No reception
Honoured so high a guest. This miscreant’s life
Is forfeit, and his guilty blood already
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