Having turned back again though onward bound,
That I will tell thee. Take and keep for me
This woman, till I come thy way again,
Driving before me, having killed the king
O’ the Bistones, that drove of Thrakian steeds:
In that case, give the woman back to me!
But should I fare, — as fare I fain would not,
Seeing I hope to prosper and return, —
Then, I bequeath her as thy household slave. 2160
She came into my hands with good hard toil!
For, what find I, when started on my course,
But certain people, a whole country-side,
Holding a wrestling-bout? as good to me
As a new labour: whence I took, and here
Come keeping with me, this, the victor’s prize.
For, such as conquered in the easy work,
Gained horses which they drove away: and such
As conquered in the harder, — those who boxed
And wrestled, — cattle; and, to crown the prize, 2170
A woman followed. Chancing as I did,
Base were it to forego this fame and gain!
Well, as I said, I trust her to thy care:
No woman I have kidnapped, understand!
But good hard toil has done it: here I come!
Some day, who knows? even thou wilt praise the feat!”
Admetos raised his face and eyed the pair:
Then, hollowly and with submission, spoke,
And spoke again, and spoke time after time,
When he perceived the silence of his friend 2180
Would not be broken by consenting word.
As a tired slave goes adding stone to stone
Until he stop some current that molests,
So poor Admetos piled up argument
Vainly against the purpose, all too plain
In that great brow acquainted with command.
“Nowise dishonouring, nor mid my foes
Ranking thee, did I hide my wife’s ill fate;
But it were grief superimposed on grief,
Should’st thou have hastened to another home. 2190
My own woe was enough for me to weep!
But, for this woman, — if it so may be, —
Bid some Thessalian, — I entreat thee, king! —
Keep her, — who has not suffered like myself!
Many of the Pheraioi welcome thee.
Be no reminder to me of my ills!
I could not, if I saw her come to live,
Restrain the tear! Inflict on me, diseased,
No new disease: woe bends me down enough!
Then, where could she be sheltered in my house, 2200
Female and young too? For that she is young,
The vesture and adornment prove. Reflect!
Should such an one inhabit the same roof
With men? And how, mixed up, a girl, with youths,
Shall she keep pure, in that case? No light task
To curb the May-day youngster, Herakles!
I only speak because of care for thee.
Or must I, in avoidance of such harm,
Make her to enter, lead her life within
The chamber of the dead one, all apart? 2210
How shall I introduce this other, couch
This where Alkestis lay? A double blame
I apprehend: first, from the citizens —
Lest some tongue of them taunt that I betray
My benefactress, fall into the snare
Of a new fresh face: then, the dead one’s self, —
Will she not blame me likewise? Worthy, sure,
Of worship from me! circumspect, my ways,
And jealous of a fault, are bound to be.
But thou, — O woman, whosoe’er thou art, — 2220
Know, thou hast all the form, art like as like
Alkestis, in the bodily shape! Ah me!
Take — by the Gods — this woman from my sight,
Lest thou undo me, the undone before!
Since I seem — seeing her — as if I saw
My own wife! And confusions cloud my heart,
And from my eyes the springs break forth! Ah, me
Unhappy — how I taste for the first time
My misery in all its bitterness!”
Whereat the friends conferred: “The chance, in truth, 2230
Was an untoward one — none said otherwise.
Still, what a God comes giving, good or bad,
That, one should take and bear with. Take her, then!” Herakles, — not unfastening his hold
On that same misery, beyond mistake
Hoarse in the words, convulsive in the face, —
“I would that I had such a power,” said he,
“As to lead up into the light again
Thy very wife, and grant thee such a grace!”
“Well do I know thou would’st: but where the hope? 2240
There is no bringing back the dead to light.”
“Be not extravagant in grief, no less!
Bear it, by augury of better things!”
“‘T is easier to advise ‘bear up,’ than bear!”
“But how carve way i’ the life that lies before,
If bent on groaning ever for the past?”
“I myself know that: but a certain love
Allures me to the choice I shall not change.”
“Ay, but, still loving dead ones, still makes weep.”
“And let it be so! She has ruined me, 2250
And still more than I say: that answers all.”
“Oh, thou hast lost a brave wife: who disputes?”
“So brave a one — that he whom thou behold’st
Will never more enjoy his life again!”
“Time will assuage! The evil yet is young!”
“Time, thou may’st say, will; if time mean — to die.”
“A wife — the longing for new marriage-joys
Will stop thy sorrow!”
”Hush, friend, — hold thy peace!
What hast thou said! I could not credit ear!”
“How then? Thou wilt not marry, then, but keep 2260
A widowed couch?”
”There is not any one
Of womankind shall couch with whom thou seest!”
“Dost think to profit thus in any way
The dead one?”
”Her, wherever she abide,
My duty is to honour.”
”And I praise —
Indeed I praise thee! Still, thou hast to pay
The price of it, in being held a fool!”
“Fool call me — only one name call me not!
Bridegroom!”
”No: it was praise, I portioned thee,
Of being good true husband to thy wife!” 2270
“When I betray her, though she is no more,
May I die!”
And the thing he said, was true:
For out of Herakles a great glow broke.
There stood a victor worthy of a prize:
The violet-crown that withers on the brow
Of the half-hearted claimant. Oh, he knew
The signs of battle hard fought and well won,
This queller of the monsters! — knew his friend
Planted firm foot, now, on the loathly thing
That was Admetos late! “would die,” he knew, 2280
Ere let the reptile raise its crest again.
If that was truth, why try the true friend more?
“Then, since thou canst be faithful to the death,
Take, deep into thy house, my dame!” smiled he.
“Not so! — I pray, by thy Progenitor!”
“Thou wilt mistake in disobeying me!”
“Obeying thee, I have to break my heart!”
“Obey me! Who knows but the favour done
May fall into its place as duty too?”
So, he was humb
le, would decline no more 2290
Bearing a burden: he just sighed, “Alas!
Would thou hadst never brought this prize from game!”
“Yet, when I conquered there, thou conqueredst!”
“All excellently urged! Yet — spite of all,
Bear with me! let the woman go away!”
“She shall go, if needs must: but ere she go,
See if there is need!”
”Need there is! At least,
Except I make thee angry with me, so!”
“But I persist, because I have my spice
Of intuition likewise: take the dame!” 2300
“Be thou the victor, then! But certainly
Thou dost thy friend no pleasure in the act!”
“Oh, time will come when thou shalt praise me! Now —
Only obey!”
”Then, servants, since my house
Must needs receive this woman, take her there!”
“I shall not trust this woman to the care
Of servants.”
”Why, conduct her in, thyself,
If that seem preferable!”
”I prefer,
With thy good leave, to place her in thy hands!”
“I would not touch her! Entry to the house — 2310
That, I concede thee.”
”To thy sole right-hand,
I mean to trust her!”
”King! Thou wrenchest this
Out of me by main force, if I submit!”
“Courage, friend! Come, stretch hand forth! Good! Now touch
The stranger-woman!”
”There! A hand I stretch —
As though it meant to cut off Gorgon’s head!”
“Hast hold of her?”
“Fast hold.”
”Why, then, hold fast
And have her! and, one day, asseverate
Thou wilt, I think, thy friend, the son of Zeus,
He was the gentle guest to entertain! 2320
Look at her! See if she, in any way,
Present thee with resemblance of thy wife!”
Ah, but the tears come, find the words at fault!
There is no telling how the hero twitched
The veil off: and there stood, with such fixed eyes
And such slow smile, Alkestis’ silent self!
It was the crowning grace of that great heart,
To keep back joy: procrastinate the truth
Until the wife, who had made proof and found
The husband wanting, might essay once more, 2330
Hear, see, and feel him renovated now —
Able to do, now, all herself had done,
Risen to the height of her: so, hand in hand,
The two might go together, live and die.
Beside, when he found speech, you guess the speech.
He could not think he saw his wife again:
It was some mocking-God that used the bliss
To make him mad! Till Herakles must help:
Assure him that no spectre mocked at all;
He was embracing whom he buried once. 2340
Still, — did he touch, might he address the true, —
True eye, true body of the true live wife?
And Herakles said, smiling “All was truth.
Spectre? Admetos had not made his guest
One who played ghost-invoker, or such cheat!
Oh, he might speak and have response, in time!
All heart could wish was gained now — life for death:
Only, the rapture must not grow immense:
Take care, nor wake the envy of the Gods!”
“O thou, of greatest Zeus true son,” — so spoke 2350
Admetos when the closing word must come,
“Go ever in a glory of success,
And save, that sire, his offspring to the end!
For thou hast — only thou — raised me and mine
Up again to this light and life!” Then asked
Tremblingly, how was trod the perilous path
Out of the dark into the light and life:
How it had happened with Alkestis there.
And Herakles said little, but enough —
How he engaged in combat with that king 2360
O’ the dæmons: how the field of contest lay
By the tomb’s self: how he sprang from ambuscade,
Captured Death, caught him in that pair of hands.
But all the time, Alkestis moved not once
Out of the set gaze and the silent smile;
And a cold fear ran through Admetos’ frame:
“Why does she stand and front me, silent thus?”
Herakles solemnly replied “Not yet
Is it allowable thou hear the things
She has to tell thee; let evanish quite 2370
That consecration to the lower Gods,
And on our upper world the third day rise!
Lead her in, meanwhile; good and true thou art,
Good, true, remain thou! Practise piety
To stranger-guests the old way! So, farewell!
Since forth I fare, fulfil my urgent task
Set by the king, the son of Sthenelos.”
Fain would Admetos keep that splendid smile
Ever to light him. “Stay with us, thou heart!
Remain our house-friend!”
”At some other day! 2380
Now, of necessity, I haste!” smiled he.
“But may’st thou prosper, go forth on a foot
Sure to return! Through all the tetrarchy,
Command my subjects that they institute
Thanksgiving-dances for the glad event,
And bid each altar smoke with sacrifice!
For we are minded to begin a fresh
Existence, better than the life before;
Seeing, I own myself supremely blest.”
Whereupon all the friendly moralists 2390
Drew this conclusion: chirped, each beard to each:
“Manifold are thy shapings, Providence!
Many a hopeless matter Gods arrange.
What we expected, never came to pass:
What we did not expect, Gods brought to bear;
So have things gone, this whole experience through!”
Ah, but if you had seen the play itself!
They say, my poet failed to get the prize:
Sophokles got the prize, — great name! They say,
Sophokles also means to make a piece. 2400
Model a new Admetos, a new wife:
Success to him! One thing has many sides.
The great name! But no good supplants a good,
Nor beauty undoes beauty. Sophokles
Will carve and carry a fresh cup, brimful
Of beauty and good, firm to the altar-foot,
And glorify the Dionusiac shrine:
Not clash against this crater, in the place
Where the God put it when his mouth had drained,
To the last dregs, libation life-blood-like, 2410
And praised Euripides for evermore —
The Human with his droppings of warm tears.
Still, since one thing may have so many sides,
I think I see how, — far from Sophokles, —
You, I, or any one might mould a new
Admetos, new Alkestis. Ah, that brave
Bounty of poets, the one royal race
That ever was, or will be, in this world!
They give no gift that bounds itself and ends
I’ the giving and the taking: theirs so breeds 2420
I’ the heart and soul o’ the taker, so transmutes
The man who only was a man before,
That he grows god-like in his turn, can give —
He also: share the poets’ privilege,
Bring forth new good, new beauty, from the old.
As though the cup that gave the wine, gave, too,
The God’s prolific giver of the gra
pe,
That vine, was wont to find out, fawn around
His footstep, springing still to bless the dearth,
At bidding of a Mainad. So with me: 2430
For I have drunk this poem, quenched my thirst,
Satisfied heart and soul — yet more remains!
Could we too make a poem? Try at least,
Inside the head, what shape the rose-mists take!
When God Apollon took, for punishment,
A mortal form and sold himself a slave
To King Admetos till a term should end, —
Not only did he make, in servitude,
Such music, while he fed the flocks and herds.
As saved the pasturage from wrong or fright, 2440
Curing rough creatures of ungentleness:
Much more did that melodious wisdom work
Within the heart o’ the master: there, ran wild
Many a lust and greed that grow to strength
By preying on the native pity and care,
Would else, all undisturbed, possess the land.
And these, the God so tamed, with golden tongue,
That, in the plenitude of youth and power,
Admetos vowed himself to rule thenceforth
In Pherai solely for his people’s sake, 2450
Subduing to such end each lust and greed
That dominates the natural charity.
And so the struggle ended. Right ruled might:
And soft yet brave, and good yet wise, the man
Stood up to be a monarch; having learned
The worth of life, life’s worth would he bestow
On all whose lot was cast, to live or die,
As he determined for the multitude.
So stands a statue: pedestalled sublime,
Only that it may wave the thunder off, 2460
And ward, from winds that vex, a world below.
And then, — as if a whisper found its way
E’en to the sense o’ the marble, — “Vain thy vow!
The royalty of its resolve, that head
Shall hide within the dust ere day be done:
That arm, its outstretch of beneficence,
Shall have a speedy ending on the earth:
Lie patient, prone, while light some cricket leaps
And takes possession of the masterpiece,
To sit, sing louder as more near the sun. 2470
For why? A flaw was in the pedestal;
Who knows? A worm’s work! Sapped, the certain fate
O’ the statue is to fall, and thine to die!”
Whereat the monarch, calm, addressed himself
To die, but bitterly the soul outbroke —
“O prodigality of life, blind waste
I’ the world, of power profuse without the will
To make life do its work, deserve its day!
My ancestors pursued their pleasure, poured
The blood o’ the people out in idle war, 2480
Or took occasion of some weary peace
Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series Page 146
