Delphi Complete Works of Sophocles

by Sophocles

  Unable to cope with the thought of her husband falling for this younger woman, she decides to use a magic potion that will win him back. When she was younger, she had been carried across a river by the centaur, Nessus. Halfway across, he made a savage grab at her, but Heracles came to her rescue and quickly shot him with an arrow. As he died, he had told her his blood, now mixed with the poison of the Lernaean Hydra in which Heracles’ arrow had been dipped, would keep Heracles from loving any other woman more than her, if she would follow his instructions. Therefore Deianeira decides to dye a robe with the blood and has Lichas carry it to Heracles with strict instructions that no one else should wear it, and that it should be kept in the dark until he puts it on.

  After the gift is sent, she begins experience ominous feelings of regret. She throws some of the left-over material into sunlight and it reacts like boiling acid and she realises that Nessus had lied about the ‘love charm’. Hyllus soon arrives to inform her that Heracles lies dying due to her gift. He was in such pain and fury that he killed Lichas, the deliverer of the gift. Deianeira feels enormous shame for what she has done, amplified by her son’s harsh words and so kills herself. Hyllus discovers soon after that it wasn’t actually her intention to kill her husband. The dying Heracles is carried to his home in terrible pain and he is furious over what he believes was a murder attempt by his wife. Hyllus explains the truth and the great hero realises that the prophesies about his death have come to pass: he was to be killed by someone who was already dead and it turned out to be Nessus.

  In the end, he is in so much pain that he is begging for someone to finish him off. In this weakened state, he says he is like a woman. He makes a final wish, which Hyllus promises to obey under protest, that Hyllus is to marry Iole. The play concludes with Heracles being carried off to be burned alive, as an ending to his suffering.

  ‘Deianira’ by Evelyn De Morgan

  CONTENTS

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  ARGUMENT

  THE WOMEN OF TRACHIS

  Bust of Sophocles from Corfu

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  DÊANIRA, wife of Heracles.

  An Attendant.

  HYLLUS, son of Heracles and Dêanira.

  CHORUS of Trachinian Maidens.

  A Messenger.

  LICHAS, the Herald.

  A Nurse.

  An Old Man.

  HERACLES.

  IOLE, who does not speak.

  SCENE. Before the temporary abode of Heracles in Trachis.

  This tragedy is named from the Chorus. From the subject it might have been called ‘Deanira or the Death of Heracles’.

  ARGUMENT

  The Centaur Nessus, in dying by the arrow of Heracles, which had been dipped in the venom of the Hydra, persuaded the bride Deanira, whose beauty was the cause of his death, to keep some of the blood from the wound as a love-charm for her husband. Many years afterwards, when Heracles was returning from his last exploit of sacking Oechalia, in Euboea, he sent before him, by his herald Lichas, Iole, the king’s daughter, whom he had espoused. Deanira, when she had discovered this, commissioned Lichas when he returned to present his master with a robe, which she had anointed with the charm, — hoping by this means to regain her lord’s affection. But the poison of the Hydra did its work, and Heracles died in agony, Deanira having already killed herself on ascertaining what she had done. The action takes place in Trachis, near the Mahae Gulf, where Heracles and Deanira, by permission of Ceyx, the king of the country, have been living in exile. At the close of the drama, Heracles, while yet alive, is carried towards his pyre on Mount Oeta.

  THE WOMEN OF TRACHIS

  DÊANIRA. Men say,— ’twas old experience gave the word,

  — ‘No lot of mortal, ere he die, can once

  Be known for good or evil.’ But I know,

  Before I come to the dark dwelling-place,

  Mine is a lot, adverse and hard and sore.

  Who yet at Pleuron, in my father’s home,

  Of all Aetolian women had most cause

  To fear my bridal. For a river-god,

  Swift Achelôüs, was my suitor there

  And sought me from my father in three forms;

  Now in his own bull-likeness, now a serpent

  Of coiling sheen, and now with manlike build

  But bovine front, while from the shadowy beard

  Sprang fountain-waters in perpetual spray.

  Looking for such a husband, I, poor girl!

  Still prayed that Death might find me, ere I knew

  That nuptial. — Later, to my glad relief,

  Zeus’ and Alcmena’s glorious offspring came,

  And closed with him in conflict, and released

  My heart from torment. How the fight was won

  I could not tell. If any were who saw

  Unshaken of dread foreboding, such may speak.

  But I sate quailing with an anguished fear,

  Lest beauty might procure me nought but pain,

  Till He that rules the issue of all strife,

  Gave fortunate end — if fortunate! For since,

  Assigned by that day’s conquest, I have known

  The couch of Heracles, my life is spent

  In one continual terror for his fate.

  Night brings him, and, ere morning, some fresh toil

  Drives him afar. And I have borne him seed;

  Which he, like some strange husbandman that farms

  A distant field, finds but at sowing time

  And once in harvest. Such a weary life

  Still tossed him to and fro, — no sooner home

  But forth again, serving I know not whom.

  And when his glorious head had risen beyond

  These labours, came the strongest of my fear.

  For since he quelled the might of Iphitus,

  We here in Trachis dwell, far from our home,

  Dependent on a stranger, but where he

  Is gone, none knoweth. Only this I know,

  His going pierced my heart with pangs for him,

  And now I am all but sure he bears some woe.

  These fifteen months he hath sent me not one word.

  And I have cause for fear. Ere he set forth

  He left a scroll with me, whose dark intent

  I oft pray Heaven may bring no sorrow down.

  ATTENDANT. Queen Dêanira, many a time ere now

  Have I beheld thee with all tearful moan

  Bewailing the departure of thy lord.

  But, if it be permitted that a slave

  Should tender counsel to the free, my voice

  May venture this: — Of thy strong band of sons

  Why is not one commissioned to explore

  For Heracles? and why not Hyllus first,

  Whom most it would beseem to show regard

  For tidings of his father’s happiness?

  Ah! here I see him bounding home, with feet

  Apt for employment! If you count me wise,

  He and my words attend upon your will.

  Enter HYLLUS.

  DÊ. Dear child, dear boy! even from the lowliest head

  Wise counsel may come forth. This woman here,

  Though a bond-maiden, hath a free-born tongue.

  HYL. What word is spoken, mother? May I know?

  DÊ. That, with thy father lost to us so long,

  ’Tis shame thou dost not learn his dwelling-place.

  HYL. Yea, I have learnt, if one may trust report.

  DÊ. Where art thou told his seat is fixed, my son?

  HYL. ’Tis said that through the length of this past year

  He wrought as bondman to a Lydian girl.

  DÊ. Hath he borne that? Then nothing can be strange!

  HYL. Well, that is over, I am told. He is free.

  DÊ. Where is he rumoured, then, alive or dead?

  HYL. In rich Euboea, besieging, as they tell,

  The town of Eurytus, or offering siege.

  DÊ
. Child, hast thou heard what holy oracles

  He left with me, touching that very land?

  HYL. What were they, mother, for I never knew?

  DÊ. That either he must end his being there,

  Or, this one feat performed, his following time

  Should grace his life with fair prosperity.

  Wilt thou not then, my child, when he is held

  In such a crisis of uncertain peril,

  Run to his aid? — since we must perish with him,

  Or owe our lasting safety to his life.

  HYL. I will go, mother. Had I heard this voice

  Of prophecy, long since I had been there.

  Fear is unwonted for our father’s lot.

  But now I know, my strength shall all be spent

  To learn the course of these affairs in full.

  DÊ. Go then, my son. Though late, to learn and do

  What wisdom bids, hath certainty of gain.

  [Exit HYLLUS. DÊANIRA withdraws

  CHORUS (entering and turning towards the East).

  Born of the starry night in her undoing,I 1

  Lulled in her bosom at thy parting glow,

  O Sun! I bid thee show,

  What journey is Alcmena’s child pursuing?

  What region holds him now,

  ‘Mong winding channels of the deep,

  Or Asian plains, or rugged Western steep?

  Declare it, thou

  Peerless in vision of thy flashing ray

  That lightens on the world with each new day.

  Sad Dêanira, bride of battle-wooing,I 2 [104-143]

  Ne’er lets her tearful eyelids close in rest,

  But in love-longing breast,

  Like some lorn bird its desolation rueing,

  Of her great husband’s way

  Still mindful, worn with harrowing fear

  Lest some new danger for him should be near,

  By night and day

  Pines on her widowed couch of ceaseless thought,

  With dread of evil destiny distraught:[Enter DÊANIRA.

  For many as are billows of the SouthII 1

  Blowing unweariedly, or Northern gale,

  One going and another coming on

  Incessantly, baffling the gazer’s eye,

  Such Cretan ocean of unending toil

  Cradles our Cadmus-born, and swells his fame.

  But still some power doth his foot recall

  From stumbling down to Hades’ darkling hall.

  Wherefore, in censure of thy mood, I bringII 2

  Glad, though opposing, counsel. Let not hope

  Grow weary. Never hath a painless life

  Been cast on mortals by the power supreme

  Of the All-disposer, Cronos’ son. But joy

  And sorrow visit in perpetual round

  All mortals, even as circleth still on high

  The constellation of the Northern sky.

  What lasteth in the world? Not starry night,III

  Nor wealth, nor tribulation; but is gone

  All suddenly, while to another soul

  The joy or the privation passeth on.

  These hopes I bid thee also, O my Queen!

  Hold fast continually, for who hath seen

  Zeus so forgetful of his own?

  How can his providence forsake his son?

  DÊ. I see you have been told of my distress,

  And that hath brought you. But my inward woe,

  Be it evermore unknown to you, as now!

  [144-179] Such the fair garden of untrammeled ease

  Where the young life grows safely. No fierce heat,

  No rain, no wind disturbs it, but unharmed

  It rises amid airs of peace and joy,

  Till maiden turn to matron, and the night

  Inherit her dark share of anxious thought,

  Haunted with fears for husband or for child.

  Then, imaged through her own calamity,

  Some one may guess the burden of my life.

  Full many have been the sorrows I have wept,

  But one above the rest I tell to-day.

  When my great husband parted last from home,

  He left within the house an ancient scroll

  Inscribed with characters of mystic note,

  Which Heracles had never heretofore,

  In former labours, cared to let me see, —

  As bound for bright achievement, not for death.

  But now, as though his life had end, he told

  What marriage-portion I must keep, what shares

  He left his sons out of their father’s ground:

  And set a time, when fifteen moons were spent,

  Counted from his departure, that even then

  Or he must die, or if that date were out

  And he had run beyond it, he should live

  Thenceforth a painless and untroubled life.

  Such by Heaven’s fiat was the promised end

  Of Heracles’ long labours, as he said;

  So once the ancient oak-tree had proclaimed

  In high Dodona through the sacred Doves.

  Of which prediction on this present hour

  In destined order of accomplishment

  The veritable issue doth depend.

  And I, dear friends, while taking rest, will oft

  Start from sweet slumbers with a sudden fear,

  Scared by the thought, my life may be bereft

  Of the best husband in the world of men.

  CH. Hush! For I see approaching one in haste,

  Garlanded, as if laden with good news.

  [180-212]

  Enter Messenger.

  MESSENGER. Queen Dêanira, mine shall be the tongue

  To free thee first from fear. Alcmena’s child

  Is living, be assured, and triumphing,

  And bringing to our Gods the fruits of war.

  DÊ. What mean’st thou, aged sir, by what thou sayest?

  MESS. That soon thy husband, envied all around,

  Will come, distinguished with victorious might.

  DÊ. What citizen or stranger told thee this?

  MESS. Your herald Lichas, where the oxen graze

  The summer meadow, cries this to a crowd.

  I, hearing, flew off hither, that being first

  To bring thee word thereof, I might be sure

  To win reward and gratitude from thee.

  DÊ. And how is he not here, if all be well?

  MESS. Crossed by no light impediment, my Queen.

  For all the Maliac people, gathering round,

  Throng him with question, that he cannot move.

  But he must still the travail of each soul,

  And none will be dismissed unsatisfied.

  Such willing audience he unwillingly

  Harangues, but soon himself will come in sight.

  DÊ. O Zeus! who rulest Oeta’s virgin wold,

  At last, though late, thou hast vouchsafed us joy.

  Lift up your voices, O my women! ye

  Within the halls, and ye beyond the gate!

  For now we reap the gladness of a ray,

  That dawns unhoped for in this rumour’s sound.

  CHORUS

  With a shout by the hearth let the palace roof ring

  From those that are dreaming of bridal, and ye,

  Young men, let your voices in harmony sing

  To the God of the quiver, the Lord of the free!

  And the Paean withal from the maiden band

  To Artemis, huntress of many a land,

  Let it rise o’er the glad roof tree,

  [213-243] To Phoebus’ own sister, with fire in each hand,

  And the Nymphs that her co-mates be!

  My spirit soars. O sovereign of my soul!

  I will accept the thrilling flute’s control.[They dance

  The ivy-crownèd thyrsus, see!

  With Bacchic fire is kindling me,

  And turns my emulous tread

>   Where’er the mazy dance may lead.

  Euoî! Euoî!

  O Paean! send us joy.

  See, dearest Queen, behold!

  Before thy gaze the event will now unfold.

  DÊ. Think not mine eye hath kept such careless guard,

  Dear maids, that I could miss this moving train.

  Herald, I bid thee hail, although so late

  Appearing, if thou bringest health with thee!

  Enter LICHAS, with Captive Women.

  LICHAS. A happy welcome on a happy way,

  As prosperous our achievement. Meet it is

  Good words should greet bright actions, mistress mine!

  DÊ. Kind friend, first tell me what I first would know —

  Shall I receive my Heracles alive?

  LICH. I left him certainly alive and strong:

  Blooming in health, not with disease oppressed.

  DÊ. In Greece, or in some barbarous country? Tell!

  LICH. Euboea’s island hath a promontory,

  Where to Cenaean Zeus he consecrates

  Rich altars and the tribute of the ground.

  DÊ. Moved by an oracle, or from some vow?

  LICH. So vowed he when he conquered with the spear

  The country of these women whom you see.

  DÊ. And who, by Heaven, are they? Who was their sire?

  Their case is piteous, or eludes my thought.

  [244-280] LICH. He took them for the service of the Gods

  And his own house, when high Oechalia fell.

  DÊ. Was’t then before that city he was kept

  Those endless ages of uncounted time?

  LICH. Not so. The greater while he was detained

  Among the Lydians, sold, as he declares,

  To bondage. Nor be jealous of the word,

  Since Heaven, my Queen, was author of the deed.

  Enthrallèd so to Asian Omphalè,

  He, as himself avers, fulfilled his year.

  The felt reproach whereof so chafed his soul,

  He bound fierce curses on himself and sware

  That, — children, wife and all, — he yet would bring

  In captive chains the mover of this harm.

  Nor did this perish like an idle word,

  But, when the stain was off him, straight he drew

  Allied battalions to assault the town