Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

  Because I slew Elektruon. Seeking so

  To ease away my hardships and once more

  Inhabit his own land, for my return

  Heavy the price he pays Eurustheus there —

  The letting in of light on this choked world!

  Either he promised, vanquished by the goad

  Of Heré, or because fate willed it thus.

  The other labours — why, he toiled them through;

  But for this last one — down by Tainaros,

  Its mouth, to Haides’ realm descended he

  To drag into the light the three-shaped hound

  Of Hell: whence Herakles returns no more.

  Now, there’s an old-world tale, Kadmeians have,

  How Dirké’s husband was a Lukos once,

  Holding the seven-towered city here in sway

  Before they ruled the land, white-steeded pair,

  The twins Amphion, Zethos, born to Zeus.

  This Lukos’ son, — named like his father too,

  No born Kadmeian but Euboia’s gift, —

  Comes and kills Kreon, lords it o’er the land,

  Falling upon our town sedition-sick.

  To us, akin to Kreon, just that bond

  Becomes the worst of evils, seemingly;

  For, since my son is in the earth’s abysms,

  This man of valour, Lukos, lord and king,

  Seeks now to slay these sons of Herakles,

  And slay his wife as well, — by murder thus

  Thinking to stamp out murder, — slay too me,

  (If me ‘t is fit you count among men still, —

  Useless old age) and all for fear lest these,

  Grown men one day, exact due punishment

  Of bloodshed and their mother’s father’s fate.

  I therefore, since he leaves me in these domes,

  The children’s household guardian, — left, when earth’s

  Dark dread he underwent, that son of mine, —

  I, with their mother, lest his boys should die,

  Sit at this altar of the saviour Zeus

  Which, glory of triumphant spear, he raised

  Conquering — my nobly-born! — the Minuai.

  Here do we guard our station, destitute

  Of all things, drink, food, raiment, on bare ground

  Couched side by side: sealed out of house and home

  Sit we in a resourcelessness of help.

  Our friends — why, some are no true friends, I see!

  The rest, that are true, want the means to aid.

  So operates in man adversity:

  Whereof may never anybody — no,

  Though half of him should really wish me well, —

  Happen to taste! a friend-test faultless, that!

  MEGARA

  Old man, who erst didst raze the Taphian town,

  Illustriously, the army-leader, thou,

  Of speared Kadmeians — how gods play men false!

  I, now, missed nowise fortune in my sire,

  Who, for his wealth, was boasted mighty once,

  Having supreme rule, — for the love of which

  Leap the long lances forth at favoured breasts, —

  And having children too: and me he gave

  Thy son, his house with that of Herakles

  Uniting by the far-famed marriage-bed.

  And now these things are dead and flown away,

  While thou and I await our death, old man,

  These Herakleian boys too, whom — my chicks —

  I save beneath my wings like brooding bird.

  But one or other falls to questioning

  “O mother,” cries he, “where in all the world

  Is father gone to? What’s he doing? when

  Will he come back?” At fault through tender years,

  They seek their sire. For me, I put them off,

  Telling them stories; at each creak of doors,

  All wonder “Does he come?” — and all a-foot

  Make for the fall before the parent knee.

  Now then, what hope, what method of escape

  Facilitatest thou? — for, thee, old man,

  I look to, — since we may not leave by stealth

  The limits of the land, and guards, more strong

  Than we, are at the outlets: nor in friends

  Remain to us the hopes of safety more.

  Therefore, whatever thy decision be,

  Impart it for the common good of all!

  Lest now should prove the proper time to die,

  Though, being weak, we spin it out and live.

  AMPHITRUON.

  Daughter, it scarce is easy, do one’s best,

  To blurt out counsel, things at such a pass.

  MEGARA.

  You want some sorrow more, or so love life?

  AMPHITRUON.

  I both enjoy life, and love hopes beside.

  MEGARA.

  And I; but hope against hope — no, old man!

  AMPHITRUON.

  In these delayings of an ill lurks cure.

  MEGARA.

  But bitter is the meantime, and it bites.

  AMPHITRUON.

  O there may be a run before the wind

  From out these present ills, for me and thee,

  Daughter, and yet may come my son, thy spouse!

  But hush! and from the children take away

  Their founts a-flow with tears, and talk them calm

  Steal them by stories — sad theft, all the same!

  For, human troubles — they grow weary too;

  Neither the wind-blasts always have their strength

  Nor happy men keep happy to the end:

  Since all things change — their natures part in twain;

  And that man’s bravest, therefore, who hopes on,

  Hopes ever: to despair is coward-like.

  CHOROS.

  These domes that overroof,

  This long-used couch, I come to, having made

  A staff my prop, that song may put to proof

  The swan-like power, age-whitened, — poet’s aid

  Of sobbed-forth dirges — words that stand aloof

  From action now: such am I — just a shade

  With night for all its face, a mere night-dream —

  And words that tremble too: howe’er they seem,

  Devoted words, I deem.

  O, of a father ye unfathered ones,

  O thou old man, and thou whose groaning stuns —

  Unhappy mother — only us above,

  Nor reaches him below in Haides’ realm, thy love!

  — (Faint not too soon, urge forward foot and limb

  Way-weary, nor lose courage — as some horse

  Yoked to the car whose weight recoils on him

  Just at the rock-ridge that concludes his course!

  Take by the hand, the peplos, anyone

  Whose foothold fails him, printless and fordone!

  Aged, assist along me aged too,

  Who, — mate with thee in toils when life was new,

  And shields and spears first made acquaintanceship, —

  Stood by thyself and proved no bastard-slip

  Of fatherland when loftiest glory grew.) —

  See now, how like the sire’s

  Each eyeball fiercely fires!

  What though ill-fortune have not left his race?

  Neither is gone the grand paternal grace!

  Hellas! O what — what combatants, destroyed

  In these, wilt thou one day seek — seek, and find all void!

  Pause! for I see the ruler of this land,

  Lukos, now passing through the palace-gate.

  LUKOS.

  The Herakleian couple — father, wife —

  If needs I must, I question: “must” forsooth?

  Being your master — all I please, I ask.

  To what time do you seek to spin out life?

  What hope, what help see, so as not to die?


  Is it you trust the sire of these, that’s sunk

  In Haides, will return? How past the pitch,

  Suppose you have to die, you pile the woe —

  Thou, casting, Hellas through, thy empty vaunts

  As though Zeus helped thee to a god for son;

  And thou, that thou wast styled our best man’s wife!

  Where was the awful in his work wound up,

  If he did quell and quench the marshy snake

  Or the Nemeian monster whom he snared

  And — says, by throttlings of his arm, he slew?

  With these do you outwrestle me? Such feats

  Shall save from death the sons of Herakles

  Who got praise, being nought, for bravery

  In wild-beast-battle, otherwise a blank?

  No man to throw on left arm buckler’s weight,

  Not he, nor get in spear’s reach! bow he bore —

  True coward’s-weapon: shoot first and then fly!

  No bow-and-arrow proves a man is brave,

  But who keeps rank, — stands, one unwinking stare

  As, ploughing up, the darts come, — brave is he.

  My action has no impudence, old man!

  Providence, rather: for I own I slew

  Kreon, this woman’s sire, and have his seat.

  Nowise I wish, then, to leave, these grown up,

  Avengers on me, payment for my deeds.

  AMPHITRUON.

  As to the part of Zeus in his own child,

  Let Zeus defend that! As to mine, ‘t is me

  The care concerns to show by argument

  The folly of this fellow, — Herakles,

  Whom I stand up for! since to hear thee styled —

  Cowardly — that is unendurable.

  First then, the infamous (for I account

  Amongst the words denied to human speech,

  Timidity ascribed thee, Herakles!)

  This I must put from thee, with gods in proof.

  Zeus’ thunder I appeal to, those four steeds

  Whereof he also was the charioteer

  When, having shot down the earth’s Giant-growth —

  (Never shaft flew but found and fitted flank)

  Triumph he sang in common with the gods.

  The Kentaur-race, four footed insolence —

  Go ask at Pholoé, vilest thou of kings,

  Whom they would pick out and pronounce best man,

  If not my son, “the seeming-brave,” say’st thou!

  But Dirphus, thy Abantid mother-town,

  Question her, and she would not praise, I think!

  For there’s no spot, where having done some good,

  Thy country thou mightst call to witness worth.

  Now, that all-wise invention, archer’s-gear,

  Thou blamest: hear my teaching and grow sage!

  A man in armour is his armour’s slave,

  And, mixed with rank and file that want to run,

  He dies because his neighbours have lost heart.

  Then, should he break his spear, no way remains

  Of warding death off, — gone that body-guard,

  His one and only; while, whatever folk

  Have the true bow-hand, — here’s the one main good, —

  Though he have sent ten thousand shafts abroad,

  Others remain wherewith the archer saves

  His limbs and life, too, — stands afar and wards

  Away from flesh the foe that vainly stares

  Hurt by the viewless arrow, while himself

  Offers no full front to those opposite,

  But keeps in thorough cover: there’s the point

  That’s capital in combat — damage foe,

  Yet keep a safe skin — foe not out of reach

  As you are! Thus my words contrast with thine,

  And such, in judging facts, our difference.

  These children, now, why dost thou seek to slay?

  What have they done thee? In a single point

  I count thee wise — if, being base thyself,

  Thou dread’st the progeny of nobleness.

  Yet this bears hard upon us, all the same,

  If we must die — because of fear in thee —

  A death ‘t were fit thou suffer at our hands,

  Thy betters, did Zeus rightly judge us all.

  If therefore thou art bent on sceptre-sway,

  Thyself, here — suffer us to leave the land,

  Fugitives! nothing do by violence,

  Or violence thyself shalt undergo

  When the gods’ gale may chance to change for thee!

  Alas, O land of Kadmos, — for ‘t is thee

  I mean to close with, dealing out the due

  Revilement, — in such sort dost thou defend

  Herakles and his children? Herakles

  Who, coming, one to all the world, against

  The Minuai, fought them and left Thebes an eye

  Unblinded henceforth to front freedom with!

  Neither do I praise Hellas, nor shall brook

  Ever to keep in silence that I count

  Towards my son, craven of cravens — her

  Whom it behoved go bring the young ones here

  Fire, spears, arms — in exchange for seas made safe,

  And cleansings of the land — his labour’s price.

  But fire, spears, arms, — O children, neither Thebes

  Nor Hellas has them for you! ‘T is myself,

  A feeble friend, ye look to: nothing now

  But a tongue’s murmur, for the strength is gone

  We had once, and with age are limbs a-shake

  And force a-flicker! Were I only young,

  Still with the mastery o’er bone and thew,

  Grasping first spear that came, the yellow locks

  Of this insulter would I bloody so —

  Should send him skipping o’er the Atlantic bounds

  Out of my arm’s reach through poltroonery!

  CHOROS.

  Have not the really good folk starting-points

  For speech to purpose, — though rare talkers they?

  LUKOS.

  Say thou against us words thou towerest with!

  I, for thy words, will deal thee blows, their due.

  Go, some to Helikon, to Parnasos

  Some, and the clefts there! Bid the woodmen fell

  Oak-trunks, and, when the same are brought inside

  The city, pile the altar round with logs,

  Then fire it, burn the bodies of them all,

  That they may learn thereby, no dead man rules

  The land here, but ‘t is I, by acts like these!

  As for you, old sirs, who are set against

  My judgments, you shall groan for — not alone

  The Herakleian children, but the fate

  Of your own house beside, when faring ill

  By any chance: and you shall recollect

  Slaves are you of a tyranny that’s mine!

  CHOROS.

  O progeny of earth, — whom Ares sowed

  When he laid waste the dragon’s greedy jaw —

  Will ye not lift the staves, right-hand supports,

  And bloody this man’s irreligious head?

  Who, being no Kadmeian, rules, — the wretch, —

  Our easy youth: an interloper too!

  But not of me, at least, shalt thou enjoy

  Thy lordship ever; nor my labour’s fruit, —

  Hand worked so hard for, — have! A curse with thee,

  Whence thou didst come, there go and tyrannize!

  For never while I live shalt thou destroy

  The Herakleian children: not so deep

  Hides he below ground, leaving thee their lord!

  But we bear both of you in mind, — that thou,

  The land’s destroyer, dost possess the land,

  While he who saved it, loses every right.

  I play the busybody — for I serve

 
My dead friends when they need friends’ service most?

  O right-hand, how thou yearnest to snatch spear

  And serve indeed! in weakness dies the wish,

  Or I had stayed thee calling me a slave,

  And nobly drawn my breath at home in Thebes

  Where thou exultest! — city that’s insane,

  Sick through sedition and bad government,

  Else never had she gained for master — thee!

  MEGARA.

  Old friends, I praise you: since a righteous wrath

  For friend’s sake well becomes a friend. But no!

  On our account in anger with your lord,

  Suffer no injury! Hear my advice,

  Amphitruon, if I seem to speak aright.

  O yes, I love my children! how not love

  What I brought forth, what toiled for? and to die —

  Sad I esteem too; still, the fated way

  Who stiffens him against, that man I count

  Poor creature; us, who are of other mood,

  Since we must die, behoves us meet our death

  Not burnt to cinders, giving foes the laugh —

  To me, worse ill than dying, that! We owe

  Our houses many a brave deed, now to pay.

  Thee, indeed, gloriously men estimate

  For spear-work, so that unendurable

  Were it that thou shouldst die a death of shame.

  And for my glorious husband, where wants he

  A witness that he would not save his boys

  If touched in their good fame thereby? Since birth

  Bears ill with baseness done for children’s sake,

  My husband needs must be my pattern here.

  See now thy hope — how much I count thereon!

  Thou thinkest that thy son will come to light:

  And, of the dead, who came from Haides back?

  But we with talk this man might mollify:

  Never! Of all foes, fly the foolish one!

  Wise, well-bred people, make concession to!

  Sooner you meet respect by speaking soft.

  Already it was in my mind — perchance

  We might beg off these children’s banishment;

  But even that is sad, involving them

  In safety, ay — and piteous poverty!

  Since the host’s visage for the flying friend

  Has, only one day, the sweet look, ‘t is said.

  Dare with us death, which waits thee, dared or no!

  We call on thine ancestral worth, old man!

  For who outlabours what the gods appoint

  Shows energy, but energy gone mad.

  Since what must — none e’er makes what must not be.

  CHOROS.

  Had anyone, while yet my arms were strong,

  Been scorning thee, he easily had ceased.

  But we are nought, now; thine henceforth to see —

  Amphitruon, how to push aside these fates!

  AMPHITRUON.

  Nor cowardice nor a desire of life