Complete Works of Euripides

by Euripides

  O’er all the house, and I a slave!

  One night,

  One night … aye, men have said it … maketh tame

  A woman in a man’s arms…. O shame, shame!

  What woman’s lips can so forswear her dead,

  And give strange kisses in another’s bed?

  Why, not a dumb beast, not a colt will run

  In the yoke untroubled, when her mate is gone —

  A thing not in God’s image, dull, unmoved

  Of reason. O my Hector! best beloved,

  That, being mine, wast all in all to me,

  My prince, my wise one, O my majesty

  Of valiance! No man’s touch had ever come

  Near me, when thou from out my father’s home

  Didst lead me and make me thine…. And thou art

  dead,

  And I war-flung to slavery and the bread

  Of shame in Hellas, over bitter seas!

  What knoweth she of evils like to these,

  That dead Polyxena, thou weepest for?

  There liveth not in my life any more

  The hope that others have. Nor will I tell

  The lie to mine own heart, that aught is well

  Or shall be well…. Yet, O, to dream were sweet!

  LEADER.

  Thy feet have trod the pathway of my feet,

  And thy clear sorrow teacheth me mine own.

  HECUBA.

  Lo, yonder ships: I ne’er set foot on one,

  But tales and pictures tell, when over them

  Breaketh a storm not all too strong to stem,

  Each man strives hard, the tiller gripped, the mast

  Manned, the hull baled, to face it: till at last

  Too strong breaks the o’erwhelming sea: lo, then

  They cease, and yield them up as broken men

  To fate and the wild waters. Even so

  I in my many sorrows bear me low,

  Nor curse, nor strive that other things may be.

  The great wave rolled from God hath conquered me.

  But, O, let Hector and the fates that fell

  On Hector, sleep. Weep for him ne’er so well,

  Thy weeping shall not wake him. Honour thou

  The new lord that is set above thee now,

  And make of thine own gentle piety

  A prize to lure his heart. So shalt thou be

  A strength to them that love us, and — God knows,

  It may be — rear this babe among his foes,

  My Hector’s child, to manhood and great aid

  For Ilion. So her stones may yet be laid

  One on another, if God will, and wrought

  Again to a city! Ah, how thought to thought

  Still beckons!… But what minion of the Greek

  Is this that cometh, with new words to speak?

  [Enter TALTHYBIUS with a band of Soldiers. He comes forward slowly and with evident disquiet.

  TALTHYBIUS.

  Spouse of the noblest heart that beat in Troy,

  Andromache, hate me not! ’Tis not in joy

  I tell thee. But the people and the Kings

  Have with one voice….

  ANDROMACHE.

  What is it? Evil things

  Are on thy lips!

  TALTHYBIUS.

  Tis ordered, this child…. Oh,

  How can I tell her of it?

  ANDROMACHE.

  Doth he not go

  With me, to the same master?

  TALTHYBIUS.

  There is none

  In Greece, shall e’er be master of thy son.

  ANDROMACHE.

  How? Will they leave him here to build again

  The wreck?…

  TALTHYBIUS.

  I know not how to tell thee plain!

  ANDROMACHE.

  Thou hast a gentle heart … if it be ill,

  And not good, news thou hidest!

  TALTHYBIUS.

  ’Tis their will

  Thy son shall die…. The whole vile thing is said

  Now!

  ANDROMACHE.

  Oh, I could have borne mine enemy’s bed!

  TALTHYBIUS.

  And speaking in the council of the host

  Odysseus hath prevailed —

  ANDROMACHE.

  O lost! lost! lost!…

  Forgive me! It is not easy….

  TALTHYBIUS.

  … That the son

  Of one so perilous be not fostered on

  To manhood —

  ANDROMACHE.

  God; may his own counsel fall

  On his own sons!

  TALTHYBIUS.

  … But from this crested wall

  Of Troy be dashed, and die…. Nay, let the thing

  Be done. Thou shalt be wiser so. Nor cling

  So fiercely to him. Suffer as a brave

  Woman in bitter pain; nor think to have

  Strength which thou hast not. Look about thee here!

  Canst thou see help, or refuge anywhere?

  Thy land is fallen and thy lord, and thou

  A prisoner and alone, one woman; how

  Canst battle against us? For thine own good

  I would not have thee strive, nor make ill blood

  And shame about thee…. Ah, nor move thy lips

  In silence there, to cast upon the ships

  Thy curse! One word of evil to the host,

  This babe shall have no burial, but be tossed

  Naked…. Ah, peace! And bear as best thou may,

  War’s fortune. So thou shalt not go thy way

  Leaving this child unburied; nor the Greek

  Be stern against thee, if thy heart be meek!

  ANDROMACHE (to the child).

  Go, die, my best-beloved, my cherished one,

  In fierce men’s hands, leaving me here alone.

  Thy father was too valiant; that is why

  They slay thee! Other children, like to die,

  Might have been spared for that. But on thy head

  His good is turned to evil.

  O thou bed

  And bridal; O the joining of the hand,

  That led me long ago to Hector’s land

  To bear, O not a lamb for Grecian swords

  To slaughter, but a Prince o’er all the hordes

  Enthroned of wide-flung Asia…. Weepest thou?

  Nay, why, my little one? Thou canst not know.

  And Father will not come; he will not come;

  Not once, the great spear flashing, and the tomb

  Riven to set thee free! Not one of all

  His brethren, nor the might of Ilion’s wall.

  How shall it be? One horrible spring … deep,

  deep

  Down. And thy neck…. Ah God, so cometh

  sleep!…

  And none to pity thee!… Thou little thing

  That curlest in my arms, what sweet scents cling

  All round thy neck! Belovèd; can it be

  All nothing, that this bosom cradled thee

  And fostered; all the weary nights, wherethrough

  I watched upon thy sickness, till I grew

  Wasted with watching? Kiss me. This one time;

  Not ever again. Put up thine arms, and climb

  About my neck: now, kiss me, lips to lips….

  O, ye have found an anguish that outstrips

  All tortures of the East, ye gentle Greeks!

  Why will ye slay this innocent, that seeks

  No wrong?… O Helen, Helen, thou ill tree

  That Tyndareus planted, who shall deem of thee

  As child of Zeus? O, thou hast drawn thy breath

  From many fathers, Madness, Hate, red Death,

  And every rotting poison of the sky!

  Zeus knows thee not, thou vampire, draining dry.

  Greece and the world! God hate thee and destroy,

  That with those beautiful eyes hast blasted Troy,

  And made the far-famed plains a was
te withal.

  Quick! take him: drag him: cast him from the wall,

  If cast ye will! Tear him, ye beasts, be swift!

  God hath undone me, and I cannot lift

  One hand, one hand, to save my child from death….

  O, hide my head for shame: fling me beneath

  Your galleys’ benches!…

  [She swoons: then half-rising.

  Quick: I must begone

  To the bridal…. I have lost my child, my own!

  [The Soldiers close round her.

  LEADER.

  O Troy ill-starred; for one strange woman, one

  Abhorrèd kiss, how are thine hosts undone!

  TALTHYBIUS (bending over ANDROMACHE and gradually taking the Child from her).

  Come, Child: let be that clasp of love

  Outwearied! Walk thy ways with me,

  Up to the crested tower, above

  Thy father’s wall…. Where they decree

  Thy soul shall perish. — Hold him: hold! —

  Would God some other man might ply

  These charges, one of duller mould,

  And nearer to the iron than I!

  HECUBA.

  O Child, they rob us of our own,

  Child of my Mighty One outworn:

  Ours, ours thou art! — Can aught be done

  Of deeds, can aught of pain be borne,

  To aid thee? — Lo, this beaten head,

  This bleeding bosom! These I spread

  As gifts to thee. I can thus much.

  Woe, woe for Troy, and woe for thee!

  What fall yet lacketh, ere we touch

  The last dead deep of misery?

  [The Child, who has started back from TALTHYBIUS, is taken up by one of the Soldiers and borne back towards the city, while ANDROMACHE is set again on the Chariot and driven off towards the ships. TALTHYBIUS goes with the Child.

  * * * * *

  CHORUS.

  [Strophe I.

  In Salamis, filled with the foaming

  Of billows and murmur of bees,

  Old Telamon stayed from his roaming,

  Long ago, on a throne of the seas;

  Looking out on the hills olive-laden,

  Enchanted, where first from the earth

  The grey-gleaming fruit of the Maiden

  Athena had birth;

  A soft grey crown for a city

  Belovèd a City of Light:

  Yet he rested not there, nor had pity,

  But went forth in his might,

  Where Heracles wandered, the lonely

  Bow-bearer, and lent him his hands

  For the wrecking of one land only,

  Of Ilion, Ilion only,

  Most hated of lands!

  [Antistrophe I.

  Of the bravest of Hellas he made him

  A ship-folk, in wrath for the Steeds,

  And sailed the wide waters, and stayed him

  At last amid Simoïs’ reeds;

  And the oars beat slow in the river,

  And the long ropes held in the strand,

  And he felt for his bow and his quiver,

  The wrath of his hand.

  And the old king died; and the towers

  That Phoebus had builded did fall,

  And his wrath, as a flame that devours,

  Ran red over all;

  And the fields and the woodlands lay blasted,

  Long ago. Yea, twice hath the Sire

  Uplifted his hand and downcast it

  On the wall of the Dardan, downcast it

  As a sword and as fire.

  [Strophe 2.

  In vain, all in vain,

  O thou ‘mid the wine-jars golden

  That movest in delicate joy,

  Ganymêdês, child of Troy,

  The lips of the Highest drain

  The cup in thine hand upholden:

  And thy mother, thy mother that bore thee,

  Is wasted with fire and torn;

  And the voice of her shores is heard,

  Wild, as the voice of a bird,

  For lovers and children before thee

  Crying, and mothers outworn.

  And the pools of thy bathing are perished,

  And the wind-strewn ways of thy feet:

  Yet thy face as aforetime is cherished

  Of Zeus, and the breath of it sweet;

  Yea, the beauty of Calm is upon it

  In houses at rest and afar.

  But thy land, He hath wrecked and o’erthrown it

  In the wailing of war.

  [Antistrophe 2.

  O Love, ancient Love,

  Of old to the Dardan given;

  Love of the Lords of the Sky;

  How didst thou lift us high

  In Ilion, yea, and above

  All cities, as wed with heaven!

  For Zeus — O leave it unspoken:

  But alas for the love of the Morn;

  Morn of the milk-white wing,

  The gentle, the earth-loving,

  That shineth on battlements broken

  In Troy, and a people forlorn!

  And, lo, in her bowers Tithônus,

  Our brother, yet sleeps as of old:

  O, she too hath loved us and known us,

  And the Steeds of her star, flashing gold,

  Stooped hither and bore him above us;

  Then blessed we the Gods in our joy.

  But all that made them to love us

  Hath perished from Troy.

  * * * * *

  [As the song ceases, the King MENELAUS enters, richly armed and followed by a bodyguard of Soldiers. He is a prey to violent and conflicting emotions.

  MENELAUS.

  How bright the face of heaven, and how sweet

  The air this day, that layeth at my feet

  The woman that I…. Nay: ’twas not for her

  I came. ’Twas for the man, the cozener

  And thief, that ate with me and stole away

  My bride. But Paris lieth, this long day,

  By God’s grace, under the horse-hoofs of the Greek,

  And round him all his land. And now I seek….

  Curse her! I scarce can speak the name she bears,

  That was my wife. Here with the prisoners

  They keep her, in these huts, among the hordes

  Of numbered slaves. — The host whose labouring swords

  Won her, have given her up to me, to fill

  My pleasure; perchance kill her, or not kill,

  But lead her home. — Methinks I have foregone

  The slaying of Helen here in Ilion….

  Over the long seas I will bear her back,

  And there, there, cast her out to whatso wrack

  Of angry death they may devise, who know

  Their dearest dead for her in Ilion. — Ho!

  Ye soldiers! Up into the chambers where

  She croucheth! Grip the long blood-reeking hair,

  And drag her to mine eyes … [Controlling himself.

  And when there come

  Fair breezes, my long ships shall bear her home.

  [The Soldiers go to force open the door of the second hut on the left.

  HECUBA.

  Thou deep Base of the World, and thou high Throne

  Above the World, whoe’er thou art, unknown

  And hard of surmise, Chain of Things that be,

  Or Reason of our Reason; God, to thee

  I lift my praise, seeing the silent road

  That bringeth justice ere the end be trod

  To all that breathes and dies.

  MENELAUS (turning).

  Ha! who is there

  That prayeth heaven, and in so strange a prayer?

  HECUBA.

  I bless thee, Menelaus, I bless thee, If thou wilt slay her! Only fear to see Her visage, lest she snare thee and thou fall! She snareth strong men’s eyes; she snareth tall Cities; and fire from out her eateth up Houses. Such magic hath she, as a cup Of death!… Do I not know h
er? Yea, and thou, And these that lie around, do they not know? [The Soldiers return from the hut and stand aside to let HELEN pass between them. She comes through them, gentle and unafraid; there is no disorder in her raiment.

  HELEN.

  King Menelaus, thy first deed might make

  A woman fear. Into my chamber brake

  Thine armèd men, and lead me wrathfully.

  Methinks, almost, I know thou hatest me.

  Yet I would ask thee, what decree is gone

  Forth for my life or death?

  MENELAUS (struggling with his emotion).

  There was not one

  That scrupled for thee. All, all with one will

  Gave thee to me, whom thou hast wronged, to kill!

  HELEN.

  And is it granted that I speak, or no,

  In answer to them ere I die, to show

  I die most wronged and innocent?

  MENELAUS.

  I seek

  To kill thee, woman; not to hear thee speak!

  HECUBA.

  O hear her! She must never die unheard,

  King Menelaus! And give me the word

  To speak in answer! All the wrong she wrought

  Away from thee, in Troy, thou knowest not.

  The whole tale set together is a death

  Too sure; she shall not ‘scape thee!

  MENELAUS.

  ’Tis but breath

  And time. For thy sake, Hecuba, if she need

  To speak, I grant the prayer. I have no heed

  Nor mercy — let her know it well — for her!

  HELEN.

  It may be that, how false or true soe’er

  Thou deem me, I shall win no word from thee.

  So sore thou holdest me thine enemy.

  Yet I will take what words I think thy heart

  Holdeth of anger: and in even part

  Set my wrong and thy wrong, and all that fell.

  [Pointing to HECUBA.

  She cometh first, who bare the seed and well

  Of springing sorrow, when to life she brought

  Paris: and that old King, who quenched not

  Quick in the spark, ere yet he woke to slay,

  The fire-brand’s image. — But enough: a day

  Came, and this Paris judged beneath the trees

  Three Crowns of Life, three diverse Goddesses.

  The gift of Pallas was of War, to lead

  His East in conquering battles, and make bleed

  The hearths of Hellas. Hera held a Throne —

  If majesties he craved — to reign alone

  From Phrygia to the last realm of the West.

  And Cypris, if he deemed her loveliest,

  Beyond all heaven, made dreams about my face

  And for her grace gave me. And, lo! her grace

  Was judged the fairest, and she stood above

  Those twain. — Thus was I loved, and thus my

  love

  Hath holpen Hellas. No fierce Eastern crown

  Is o’er your lands, no spear hath cast them down.