Delphi Complete Works of Sophocles

by Sophocles

  Who ruined me. But thou, named of the shield,

  Eurysakes, hold mine, the unpierceable

  Seven-hided buckler, and by the well stitched thong

  Grasp firm and wield it mightily. — The rest

  Shall lie where I am buried. — Take him now,

  Quickly, and close the door. No tears! What! weep

  Before the tent? How women crave for pity!

  Make fast, I say. No wise physician dreams

  With droning charms to salve a desperate sore.

  CH. There sounds a vehement ardour in thy words

  That likes me not. I fear thy sharpened tongue.

  TEC. Aias, my lord, what act is in thy mind?

  AI. Inquire not, question not; be wise, thou’rt best.

  TEC. How my heart sinks! Oh, by thy child, by Heaven,

  I pray thee on my knees, forsake us not!

  AI. Thou troublest me. What! know’st thou not that Heaven

  Hath ceased to be my debtor from to-day?

  TEC. Hush! Speak not so.

  AI. Speak thou to those that hear.

  TEC. Will you not hear me?

  AI. Canst thou not be still?

  TEC. My fears, my fears!

  AI. (to the Attendants). Come, shut me in, I say.

  TEC. Oh, yet be softened!

  AI. ’Tis a foolish hope,

  If thou deem’st now to mould me to thy will.

  [Aias is withdrawn. Exit Tecmessa

  CHORUS.

  Island of glory! whom the glowing eyesI 1

  Of all the wondering world immortalize,

  [597-648] Thou, Salamis, art planted evermore,

  Happy amid the wandering billows’ roar;

  While I — ah, woe the while! — this weary time,

  By the green wold where flocks from Ida stray,

  Lie worn with fruitless hours of wasted prime,

  Hoping — ah, cheerless hope! — to win my way

  Where Hades’ horrid gloom shall hide me from the day.

  Aias is with me, yea, but crouching low,I 2

  Where Heaven-sent madness haunts his overthrow,

  Beyond my cure or tendance: woful plight!

  Whom thou, erewhile, to head the impetuous fight,

  Sent’st forth, thy conquering champion. Now he feeds

  His spirit on lone paths, and on us brings

  Deep sorrow; and all his former peerless deeds

  Of prowess fall like unremembered things

  From Atreus’ loveless brood, this caitiff brace of kings.

  Ah! when his mother, full of days and bowedII 1

  With hoary eld, shall hear his ruined mind,

  How will she mourn aloud!

  Not like the warbler of the dale,

  The bird of piteous wail,

  But in shrill strains far borne upon the wind,

  While on the withered breast and thin white hair

  Falls the resounding blow, the rending of despair.

  Best hid in death were he whom madness drivesII 2

  Remediless; if, through his father’s race

  Born to the noblest place

  Among the war-worn Greeks, he lives

  By his own light no more,

  Self-aliened from the self he knew before.

  Oh, hapless sire, what woe thine ear shall wound!

  One that of all thy line no life save this hath found.

  Enter Aias with a bright sword, and Tecmessa, severally.

  AI. What change will never-terminable Time

  Not heave to light, what hide not from the day?

  What chance shall win men’s marvel? Mightiest oaths

  [649-689] Fall frustrate, and the steely-tempered will.

  Ay, and even mine, that stood so diamond-keen

  Like iron lately dipped, droops now dis-edged

  And weakened by this woman, whom to leave

  A widow with her orphan to my foes,

  Dulls me with pity. I will go to the baths

  And meadows near the cliff, and purging there

  My dark pollution, I will screen my soul

  From reach of Pallas’ grievous wrath. I will find

  Same place untrodden, and digging of the soil

  Where none shall see, will bury this my sword,

  Weapon of hate! for Death and Night to hold

  Evermore underground. For, since my hand

  Had this from Hector mine arch-enemy,

  No kindness have I known from Argive men.

  So true that saying of the bygone world,

  ‘A foe’s gift is no gift, and brings no good.’

  Well, we will learn of Time. Henceforth I’ll bow

  To heavenly ordinance and give homage due

  To Atreus’ sons. Who rules, must be obeyed.

  Since nought so fierce and terrible but yields

  Place to Authority. Wild Winter’s snows

  Make way for bounteous Summer’s flowery tread,

  And Night’s sad orb retires for lightsome Day

  With his white steeds to illumine the glad sky.

  The furious storm-blast leaves the groaning sea

  Gently to rest. Yea, the all-subduer Sleep

  Frees whom he binds, nor holds enchained for aye.

  And shall not men be taught the temperate will?

  Yea, for I now know surely that my foe

  Must be so hated, as being like enough

  To prove a friend hereafter, and my friend

  So far shall have mine aid, as one whose love

  Will not continue ever. Men have found

  But treacherous harbour in companionship.

  Our ending, then, is peaceful. Thou, my girl,

  Go in and pray the Gods my heart’s desire

  Be all fulfilled. My comrades, join her here,

  Honouring my wishes; and if Teucer come,

  Bid him toward us be mindful, kind toward you.

  [690-718] I must go — whither I must go. Do ye

  But keep my word, and ye may learn, though now

  Be my dark hour, that all with me is well.

  [Exit towards the country. Tecmessa retires

  CHORUS.

  A shudder of love thrills through me. Joy! I soar1

  O Pan, wild Pan![They dance

  Come from Cyllenè hoar —

  Come from the snow drift, the rock-ridge, the glen!

  Leaving the mountain bare

  Fleet through the salt sea-air,

  Mover of dances to Gods and to men.

  Whirl me in Cnossian ways — thrid me the Nysian maze!

  Come, while the joy of the dance is my care!

  Thou too, Apollo, come

  Bright from thy Delian home,

  Bringer of day,

  Fly o’er the southward main

  Here in our hearts to reign,

  Loved to repose there and kindly to stay.

  Horror is past. Our eyes have rest from pain.2

  O Lord of Heaven![They dance

  Now blithesome day again

  Purely may smile on our swift-sailing fleet,

  Since, all his woe forgot,

  Aias now faileth not

  Aught that of prayer and Heaven-worship is meet.

  Time bringeth mighty aid — nought but in time doth fade:

  Nothing shall move me as strange to my thought.

  Aias our lord hath now

  Cleared his wrath-burdened brow

  Long our despair,

  Ceased from his angry feud

  And with mild heart renewed

  Peace and goodwill to the high-sceptred pair.

  [719-754]

  Enter Messenger.

  MESSENGER. Friends, my first news is Teucer’s presence here,

  Fresh from the Mysian heights; who, as he came

  Right toward the generals’ quarter, was assailed

  With outcry from the Argives in a throng:

  For when they knew his motion from afar

  They swarmed arou
nd him, and with shouts of blame

  From each side one and all assaulted him

  As brother to the man who had gone mad

  And plotted ‘gainst the host, — threatening aloud,

  Spite of his strength, he should be stoned, and die.

  — So far strife ran, that swords unscabbarded

  Crossed blades, till as it mounted to the height

  Age interposed with counsel, and it fell.

  But where is Aias to receive my word?

  Tidings are best told to the rightful ear.

  CH. Not in the hut, but just gone forth, preparing

  New plans to suit his newly altered mind.

  MESS. Alas!

  Too tardy then was he who sped me hither;

  Or I have proved too slow a messenger.

  CH. What point is lacking for thine errand’s speed?

  MESS. Teucer was resolute the man should bide

  Close held within-doors till himself should come.

  CH. Why, sure his going took the happiest turn

  And wisest, to propitiate Heaven’s high wrath.

  MESS. The height of folly lives in such discourse,

  If Calchas have the wisdom of a seer.

  CH. What knowest thou of our state? What saith he? Tell.

  MESS. I can tell only what I heard and saw.

  Whilst all the chieftains and the Atridae twain

  Were seated in a ring, Calchas alone

  Rose up and left them, and in Teucer’s palm

  Laid his right hand full friendly; then out-spake

  With strict injunction by all means i’ the world

  To keep beneath yon covert this one day

  Your hero, and not suffer him to rove,

  [755-789] If he would see him any more alive.

  For through this present light — and ne’er again —

  Holy Athena, so he said, will drive him

  Before her anger. Such calamitous woe

  Strikes down the unprofitable growth that mounts

  Beyond his measure and provokes the sky.

  ‘Thus ever,’ said the prophet, ‘must he fall

  Who in man’s mould hath thoughts beyond a man.

  And Aias, ere he left his father’s door,

  Made foolish answer to his prudent sire.

  ‘My son,’ said Telamon, ‘choose victory

  Always, but victory with an aid from Heaven.’

  How loftily, how madly, he replied!

  ‘Father, with heavenly help men nothing worth

  May win success. But I am confident

  Without the Gods to pluck this glory down.’

  So huge the boast he vaunted! And again

  When holy Pallas urged him with her voice

  To hurl his deadly spear against the foe,

  He turned on her with speech of awful sound:

  ‘Goddess, by other Greeks take thou thy stand;

  Where I keep rank, the battle ne’er shall break.’

  Such words of pride beyond the mortal scope

  Have won him Pallas’ wrath, unlovely meed.

  But yet, perchance, so be it he live to-day,

  We, with Heaven’s succour, may restore his peace.’ —

  Thus far the prophet, when immediately

  Teucer dispatched me, ere the assembly rose,

  Bearing to thee this missive to be kept

  With all thy care. But if my speed be lost,

  And Calchas’ word have power, the man is dead.

  CH. O trouble-tost Tecmessa, born to woe,

  Come forth and see what messenger is here!

  This news bites near the bone, a death to joy.

  Enter TECMESSA.

  TEC. Wherefore again, when sorrow’s cruel storm

  Was just abating, break ye my repose?

  CH. (pointing to the Messenger).

  Hear what he saith, and how he comes to bring

  [797-821] News of our Aias that hath torn my heart.

  TEC. Oh me! what is it, man? Am I undone?

  MESS. Thy case I know not; but of Aias this,

  That if he roam abroad, ’tis dangerous.

  TEC. He is, indeed, abroad. Oh! tell me quickly!

  MESS. ’Tis Teucer’s strong command to keep him close

  Beneath this roof, nor let him range alone.

  TEC. But where is Teucer? and what means his word?

  MESS. Even now at hand, and eager to make known

  That Aias, if he thus go forth, must fall.

  TEC. Alas! my misery! Whence learned he this?

  MESS. From Thestor’s prophet-offspring, who to-day

  Holds forth to Aias choice of life or death.

  TEC. Woe’s me! O friends, this desolating blow

  Is falling! Oh, stand forward to prevent!

  And some bring Teucer with more haste, while some

  Explore the western bays and others search

  Eastward to find your hero’s fatal path!

  For well I see I am cheated and cast forth

  From the old favour. Child, what shall I do? [Looking at EURYSAKES

  We must not stay. I too will fare along,

  go far as I have power. Come, let us go.

  Bestir ye! ’Tis no moment to sit still,

  If we would save him who now speeds to die.

  CH. I am ready. Come! Fidelity of foot,

  And swift performance, shall approve me true.[Exeunt omnes

  The scene changes to a lonely wooded spot.

  AIAS (discovered alone).

  The sacrificer stands prepared, — and when

  More keen? Let me take time for thinking, too!

  This gift of Hector, whom of stranger men

  I hated most with heart and eyes, is set

  In hostile Trojan soil, with grinding hone

  Fresh-pointed, and here planted by my care

  [822-863] Thus firm, to give me swift and friendly death.

  Fine instrument, so much for thee! Then, first,

  Thou, for ’tis meet, great Father, lend thine aid.

  For no great gift I sue thee. Let some voice

  Bear Teucer the ill news, that none but he

  May lift my body, newly fallen in death

  About my bleeding sword, ere I be spied

  By some of those who hate me, and be flung

  To dogs and vultures for an outcast prey.

  So far I entreat thee, Lord of Heaven. And thou,

  Hermes, conductor of the shadowy dead,

  Speed me to rest, and when with this sharp steel

  I have cleft a sudden passage to my heart,

  At one swift bound waft me to painless slumber!

  But most be ye my helpers, awful Powers,

  Who know no blandishments, but still perceive

  All wicked deeds i’ the world — strong, swift, and sure,

  Avenging Furies, understand my wrong,

  See how my life is ruined, and by whom.

  Come, ravin on Achaean flesh — spare none;

  Rage through the camp! — Last, thou that driv’st thy course

  Up yon steep Heaven, thou Sun, when thou behold’st

  My fatherland, checking thy golden rein,

  Report my fall, and this my fatal end,

  To my old sire, and the poor soul who tends him.

  Ah, hapless one! when she shall hear this word,

  How she will make the city ring with woe!

  ‘Twere from the business idly to condole.

  To work, then, and dispatch. O Death! O Death!

  Now come, and welcome! Yet with thee, hereafter,

  I shall find close communion where I go.

  But unto thee, fresh beam of shining Day,

  And thee, thou travelling Sun-god, I may speak

  Now, and no more for ever. O fair light!

  O sacred fields of Salamis my home!

  Thou, firm set natal hearth: Athens renowned,

  And ye her people whom I love; O rivers,

  Broo
ks, fountains here — yea, even the Trojan plain

  I now invoke! — kind fosterers, farewell!

  [864-901] This one last word from Aias peals to you:

  Henceforth my speech will be with souls unseen[Falls on his sword

  CHORUS (re-entering severally).

  CH. A. Toil upon toil brings toil,

  And what save trouble have I?

  Which path have I not tried?

  And never a place arrests me with its tale.

  Hark! lo, again a sound!

  CH. B. ’Tis we, the comrades of your good ship’s crew.

  CH. A. Well, sirs?

  CH. B. We have trodden all the westward arm o’ the bay.

  CH. A. Well, have ye found?

  CH. B. Troubles enow, but nought to inform our sight.

  CH. A. Nor yet along the road that fronts the dawn

  Is any sign of Aias to be seen.

  CH. Who then will tell me, who? What hard sea-liver,1

  What toiling fisher in his sleepless quest,

  What Mysian nymph, what oozy Thracian river,

  Hath seen our wanderer of the tameless breast?

  Where? tell me where!

  ’Tis hard that I, far-toiling voyager,

  Crossed by some evil wind,

  Cannot the haven find,

  Nor catch his form that flies me, where? ah! where?

  TEC. (behind). Oh, woe is me! woe, woe!

  CH. A. Who cries there from the covert of the grove?

  TEC. O boundless misery!

  CH. B. Steeped in this audible sorrow I behold

  Tecmessa, poor fate-burdened bride of war.

  TEC. Friends, I am spoiled, lost, ruined, overthrown!

  CH. A. What ails thee now?

  TEC. See where our Aias lies, but newly slain,

  Fallen on his sword concealed within the ground,

  CH. Woe for my hopes of home!

  Aias, my lord, thou hast slain

  [902-938] Thy ship-companion on the salt sea foam.

  Alas for us, and thee,

  Child of calamity!

  TEC. So lies our fortune. Well may’st thou complain.

  CH. A. Whose hand employed he for the deed of blood?

  TEC. His own, ’tis manifest. This planted steel,

  Fixed by his hand, gives verdict from his breast.

  CH. Woe for my fault, my loss!

  Thou hast fallen in blood alone,

  And not a friend to cross

  Or guard thee. I, deaf, senseless as a stone,

  Left all undone. Oh, where, then, lies the stern

  Aias, of saddest name, whose purpose none might turn?

  TEC. No eye shall see him. I will veil him round

  With this all covering mantle; since no heart

  That loved him could endure to view him there,

  With ghastly expiration spouting forth

  From mouth and nostrils, and the deadly wound,

  The gore of his self slaughter. Ah, my lord!