by Sophocles
What shall I do? What friend will carry thee?
Oh, where is Teucer! Timely were his hand,
Might he come now to smooth his brother’s corse.
O thou most noble, here ignobly laid,
Even enemies methinks must mourn thy fate!
CH. Ah! ’twas too clear thy firm knit thoughts would fashion,2
Early or late, an end of boundless woe!
Such heaving groans, such bursts of heart-bruised passion,
Midnight and morn, bewrayed the fire below.
‘The Atridae might beware!’
A plenteous fount of pain was opened there,
What time the strife was set,
Wherein the noblest met,
Grappling the golden prize that kindled thy despair!
TEC. Woe, woe is me!
CH. Deep sorrow wrings thy soul, I know it well.
[939-974] TEC. O woe, woe, woe!
CH. Thou may’st prolong thy moan, and be believed,
Thou that hast lately lost so true a friend.
TEC. Thou may’st imagine; ’tis for me to know.
CH. Ay, ay, ’tis true.
TEC. Alas, my child! what slavish tasks and hard
We are drifting to! What eyes control our will!
CH. Ay me! Through thy complaint
I hear the wordless blow
Of two high-throned, who rule without restraint
Of Pity. Heaven forfend
What evil they intend!
TEC. The work of Heaven hath brought our life thus low.
CH. ’Tis a sore burden to be laid on men.
TEC. Yet such the mischief Zeus’ resistless maid,
Pallas, hath planned to make Odysseus glad.
CH. O’er that dark-featured soul
What waves of pride shall roll,
What floods of laughter flow,
Rudely to greet this madness-prompted woe,
Alas! from him who all things dares endure,
And from that lordly pair, who hear, and seat them sure!
TEC. Ay, let them laugh and revel o’er his fall!
Perchance, albeit in life they missed him not,
Dead, they will cry for him in straits of war.
For dullards know not goodness in their hand,
Nor prize the jewel till ’tis cast away.
To me more bitter than to them ’twas sweet,
His death to him was gladsome, for he found
The lot he longed for, his self-chosen doom.
What cause have they to laugh? Heaven, not their crew,
Hath glory by his death. Then let Odysseus
Insult with empty pride. To him and his
Aias is nothing; but to me, to me,
He leaves distress and sorrow in his room!
TEUCER (within). Alas, undone!
[975-1009] LEADER OF CH.
Hush! that was Teucer’s cry. Methought I heard
His voice salute this object of dire woe.
Enter TEUCER.
TEU. Aias, dear brother, comfort of mine eye,
Hast thou then done even as the rumour holds?
CH. Be sure of that, Teucer. He lives no more.
TEU. Oh, then how heavy is the lot I bear!
CH. Yes, thou hast cause —
TEU. O rash assault of woe! —
CH. To mourn full loud.
TEU. Ay me! and where, oh where
On Trojan earth, tell me, is this man’s child?
CH. Beside the huts, untended.
TEU. (to TEC). Oh, with haste
Go bring him hither, lest some enemy’s hand
Snatch him, as from the lion’s widowed mate
The lion-whelp is taken. Spare not speed.
All soon combine in mockery o’er the dead.[Exit TECMESSA
CH. Even such commands he left thee ere he died.
As thou fulfillest by this timely care.
TEU. O sorest spectacle mine eyes e’er saw!
Woe for my journey hither, of all ways
Most grievous to my heart, since I was ware,
Dear Aias, of thy doom, and sadly tracked
Thy footsteps. For there darted through the host,
As from some God, a swift report of thee
That thou wert lost in death. I, hapless, heard,
And mourned even then for that whose presence kills me.
Ay me! But come,
Unveil. Let me behold my misery. [The corpse of AIAS is uncovered
O sight unbearable! Cruelly brave!
Dying, what store of griefs thou sow’st for me!
Where, amongst whom of mortals, can I go,
That stood not near thee in thy troublous hour?
Will Telamon, my sire and thine, receive me
With radiant countenance and favouring brow
[1010-1046] Returning without thee? Most like! being one
Who smiles no more, yield Fortune what she may.
Will he hide aught or soften any word,
Rating the bastard of his spear-won thrall,
Whose cowardice and dastardy betrayed
Thy life, dear Aias, — or my murderous guile,
To rob thee of thy lordship and thy home?
Such greeting waits me from the man of wrath,
Whose testy age even without cause would storm.
Last, I shall leave my land a castaway,
Thrust forth an exile, and proclaimed a slave;
So should I fare at home. And here in Troy
My foes are many and my comforts few.
All these things are my portion through thy death.
Woe’s me, my heart! how shall I bear to draw thee,
O thou ill-starr’d! from this discoloured blade,
Thy self-shown slayer? Didst thou then perceive
Dead Hector was at length to be thine end? —
I pray you all, consider these two men.
Hector, whose gift from Aias was a girdle,
Tight-braced therewith to the car’s rim, was dragged
And scarified till he breathed forth his life.
And Aias with this present from his foe
Finds through such means his death-fall and his doom.
Say then what cruel workman forged the gifts,
But Fury this sharp sword, Hell that bright band?
In this, and all things human, I maintain,
Gods are the artificers. My thought is said.
And if there be who cares not for my thought,
Let him hold fast his faith and leave me mine.
CH. Spare longer speech, and think how to secure
Thy brother’s burial, and what plea will serve;
Since one comes here hath no good will to us
And like a villain haply comes in scorn.
TEU. What man of all the host hath caught thine eye?
CH. The cause for whom we sailed, the Spartan King.
TEU. Yes; I discern him, now he moves more near.
[1047-1083]
Enter MENELAUS.
MENELAUS. Fellow, give o’er. Cease tending yon dead man!
Obey my voice, and leave him where he lies.
TEU. Thy potent cause for spending so much breath?
MEN. My will, and his whose word is sovereign here.
TEU. May we not know the reasons of your will?
MEN. Because he, whom we trusted to have brought
To lend us loyal help with heart and hand,
Proved in the trial a worse than Phrygian foe;
Who lay in wait for all the host by night,
And sallied forth in arms to shed our blood;
That, had not one in Heaven foiled this attempt,
Our lot had been to lie as he doth here
Dead and undone for ever, while he lived
And flourished. Heaven hath turned this turbulence
To fall instead upon the harmless flock.
Wherefore no strength of man shall once avail
To encase his body
with a seemly tomb,
But outcast on the wide and watery sand,
He’ll feed the birds that batten on the shore.
Nor let thy towering spirit therefore rise
In threatening wrath. Wilt thou or not, our hand
Shall rule him dead, howe’er he braved us living,
And that by force; for never would he yield,
Even while he lived, to words from me. And yet
It shows base metal when the subject-wight
Deigns not to hearken to the chief in power.
Since without settled awe, neither in states
Can laws have rightful sway, nor can a host
Be governed with due wisdom, if no fear
Or wholesome shame be there to shield its safety.
And though a man wax great in thews and bulk,
Let him be warned: a trifling harm may ruin him.
Whoever knows respect and honour both
Stands free from risk of dark vicissitude.
But whereso pride and licence have their fling,
Be sure that state will one day lose her course
And founder in the abysm. Let fear have place
[1084-1122] Still where it ought, say I, nor let men think
To do their pleasure and not bide the pain.
That wheel comes surely round. Once Aias flamed
With insolent fierceness. Now I mount in pride,
And loudly bid thee bury him not, lest burying
Thy brother thou be burrowing thine own grave.
CH. Menelaüs, make not thy philosophy
A platform whence to insult the valiant dead.
TEU. I nevermore will marvel, sirs, when one
Of humblest parentage is prone to sin,
Since those reputed men of noble strain
Stoop to such phrase of prating frowardness.
Come, tell it o’er again, — said you ye brought
My brother bound to aid you with his power?
Sailed he not forth of his own sovereign will?
Where is thy voucher of command o’er him?
Where of thy right o’er those that followed him?
Sparta, not we, shall buckle to thy sway.
’Twas written nowhere in the bond of rule
That thou shouldst check him rather than he thee.
Thou sailedst under orders, not in charge
Of all, much less of Aias. Then pursue
Thy limited direction, and chastise,
In haughty phrase, the men who fear thy nod.
But I will bury Aias, whether thou
Or the other general give consent or no.
’Tis not for me to tremble at your word.
Not to reclaim thy wife, like those poor souls
Thou flll’st with labour, issued this man forth,
But caring for his oath, and not for thee,
Or any other nobody. Then come
With heralds all arow, and bring the man
Called king of men with thee! For thy sole noise
I budge not, wert thou twenty times thy name.
CH. The sufferer should not bear a bitter tongue.
Hard words, how just soe’er, will leave their sting.
MEN. Our bowman carries no small pride, I see.
TEU. No mere mechanic’s menial craft is mine.
MEN. How wouldst thou vaunt it hadst thou but a shield!
[1123-1158] TEU. Unarmed I fear not thee in panoply.
MEN. Redoubted is the wrath lives on thy tongue.
TEU. Whose cause is just hath licence to be proud.
MEN. Just, that my murderer have a peaceful end?
TEU. Thy murderer? Strange, to have been slain and live!
MEN. Yea, through Heaven’s mercy. By his will, I am dead.
TEU. If Heaven have saved thee, give the Gods their due.
MEN. Am I the man to spurn at Heaven’s command?
TEU. Thou dost, to come and frustrate burial.
MEN. Honour forbids to yield my foe a tomb.
TEU. And Aias was thy foeman? Where and when?
MEN. Hate lived between us; that thou know’st full well.
TEU. For thy proved knavery, coining votes i’ the court
MEN. The judges voted. He ne’er lost through me.
TEU. Guilt hiding guile wears often fairest front.
MEN. I know whom pain shall harass for that word.
TEU. Not without giving equal pain, ’tis clear.
MEN. No more, but this. No burial for this man!
TEU. Yea, this much more. He shall have instant burial.
MEN. I have seen ere now a man of doughty tongue
Urge sailors in foul weather to unmoor,
Who, caught in the sea-misery by and by,
Lay voiceless, muffled in his cloak, and suffered
Who would of the sailors over trample him
Even so methinks thy truculent mouth ere long
Shall quench its outcry, when this little cloud
Breaks forth on thee with the full tempest’s might.
TEU. I too have seen a man whose windy pride
Poured forth loud insults o’er a neighbour’s fall,
Till one whose cause and temper showed like mine
Spake to him in my hearing this plain word:
‘Man, do the dead no wrong; but, if thou dost,
Be sure thou shalt have sorrow.’ Thus he warned
The infatuate one: ay, one whom I behold,
[1158-1185] For all may read my riddle — thou art he.
MEN. I will be gone. ‘Twere shame to me, if known,
To chide when I have power to crush by force.
TEU. Off with you, then! ‘Twere triple shame in me
To list the vain talk of a blustering fool.[Exit MENELAUS
LEADER OF CHORUS.
High the quarrel rears his head!
Haste thee, Teucer, trebly haste,
Grave-room for the valiant dead
Furnish with what speed thou mayst,
Hollowed deep within the ground,
Where beneath his mouldering mound
Aias aye shall be renowned.
Re-enter TECMESSA with EURYSAKES.
TEU. Lo! where the hero’s housemate and his child,
Hitting the moment’s need, appear at hand,
To tend the burial of the ill fated dead.
Come, child, take thou thy station close beside:
Kneel and embrace the author of thy life,
In solemn suppliant fashion holding forth
This lock of thine own hair, and hers, and mine
With threefold consecration, that if one
Of the army force thee from thy father’s corse,
My curse may banish him from holy ground,
Far from his home, unburied, and cut off
From all his race, even as I cut this curl.
There, hold him, child, and guard him; let no hand
Stir thee, but lean to the calm breast and cling.
(To CHORUS) And ye, be not like women in this scene,
Nor let your manhoods falter; stand true men
To this defence, till I return prepared,
Though all cry No, to give him burial.[Exit
CHORUS.
When shall the tale of wandering years be done?I 1
When shall arise our exile’s latest sun?
[1186-1125] Oh, where shall end the incessant woe
Of troublous spear-encounter with the foe,
Through this vast Trojan plain,
Of Grecian arms the lamentable stain?
Would he had gone to inhabit the wide sky,I 2
Or that dark home of death where millions lie,
Who taught our Grecian world the way
To use vile swords and knit the dense array!
His toil gave birth to toil
In endless line. He made mankind his spoil.
His tyrant will hath forced me to forgoII 1
The garland, and the gob
let’s bounteous flow:
Yea, and the flute’s dear noise,
And night’s more tranquil joys;
Ay me! nor only these,
The fruits of golden ease,
But Love, but Love — O crowning sorrow! —
Hath ceased for me. I may not borrow
Sweet thoughts from him to smooth my dreary bed,
Where dank night-dews fall ever on my head,
Lest once I might forget the sadness of the morrow.
Even here in Troy, Aias was erst my rock,II 2
From darkling fears and ‘mid the battle-shock
To screen me with huge might:
Now he is lost in night
And horror. Where again
Shall gladness heal my pain?
O were I where the waters hoary,
Round Sunium’s pine-clad promontory,
Plash underneath the flowery upland height.
Then holiest Athens soon would come in sight,
And to Athena’s self I might declare my story.
Enter TEUCER.
TEU. My steps were hastened, brethren, when I saw
Great Agamemnon hitherward afoot.
He means to talk perversely, I can tell.
[1126-1261]
Enter AGAMEMNON.
AG. And so I hear thou’lt stretch thy mouth agape
With big bold words against us undismayed —
Thou, the she-captive’s offspring! High would scale
Thy voice, and pert would be thy strutting gait,
Were but thy mother noble; since, being naught,
So stiff thou stand’st for him who is nothing now,
And swear’st we came not as commanders here
Of all the Achaean navy, nor of thee;
But Aias sailed, thou say’st, with absolute right.
Must we endure detraction from a slave?
What was the man thou noisest here so proudly?
Have I not set my foot as firm and far?
Or stood his valour unaccompanied
In all this host? High cause have we to rue
That prize-encounter for Pelides’ arms,
Seeing Teucer’s sentence stamps our knavery
For all to know it; and nought will serve but ye,
Being vanquished, kick at the award that passed
By voice of the majority in the court,
And either pelt us with rude calumnies,
Or stab at us, ye laggards! with base guile.
Howbeit, these ways will never help to build
The wholesome order of established law,
If men shall hustle victors from their right,
And mix the hindmost rabble with the van.
That craves repression. Not by bulky size,
Or shoulders’ breadth, the perfect man is known;
But wisdom gives chief power in all the world.
The ox hath a huge broadside, yet is held
Right in the furrow by a slender goad;
