Complete Works of Euripides

by Euripides

  PYL. To fly is unendurable, nor are we accustomed [to do so,] and we must not make light of the oracle of the God. But quitting the temple, let us hide our bodies in the caves, which the dark sea splashes with its waters, far away from the city, lest any one beholding the bark, inform the rulers, and we be straightway seized by force. But when the eye of dim night shall come, we must venture, bring all devices to bear, to seize the sculptured image from the temple. But observe the eaves [of the roof,] where there is an empty space between the triglyphs in which you may let yourself down. For good men dare encounter toils, but the cowardly are of no account any where. We have not indeed come a long distance with our oars, so as to return again from the goal.

  OR. But one must follow your advice, for you speak well. We must go whithersoever in this land we can conceal our bodies, and lie hid. For the [will] of the God will not be the cause of his oracle falling useless. We must venture; for no toil has an excuse for young men.

  [ORESTES and PYLADES retire aside.]

  CHORUS. Keep silence, O ye that inhabit the twain rocks of the Euxine that face each other. O Dictynna, mountain daughter of Latona, to thy court, the gold-decked pinnacles of temples with fine columns, I, servant to the hallowed guardian of the key, conduct my pious virgin foot, changing [for my present habitation] the towers and walls of Greece with its noble steeds, and Europe with its fields abounding in trees, the dwelling of my ancestral home. I am come. What new matter? What anxious care hast thou? Wherefore hast thou led me, led me to the shrines, O daughter of him who came to the walls of Troy with the glorious fleet, with thousand sail, ten thousand spears of the renowned Atrides?

  IPHIGENIA. O attendants mine, in what moans of bitter lamentation do I dwell, in the songs of a songless strain unfit for the lyre, alas! alas! in funereal griefs for the ills which befall me, bemoaning my brother, what a vision have I seen in the night whose darkness has passed away! I am undone, undone. No more is my father’s house, ah me! no more is our race. Alas! alas! for the toils in Argos! Alas! thou deity, who hast now robbed me of my only brother, sending him to Hades, to whom I am about to pour forth on the earth’s surface these libations and this bowl for the departed, and streams from the mountain heifer, and the wine draughts of Bacchus, and the work of the swarthy bees, which are the wonted peace-offerings to the departed. O germ of Agamemnon beneath the earth, to thee as dead do I send these offerings. And do thou receive them, for not before [thine own] tomb do I offer my auburn locks, my tears. For far away am I journeyed from thy country and mine, where, as opinion goes, I wretched lie slaughtered.

  CHOR. A respondent strain and an Asiatic hymn of barbarian wailing will I peal forth to thee, my mistress, the song of mourning which, delighting the dead, Hades hymns in measure apart from Pæans. Alas! the light of the sceptre in the Atrides’ house is faded away. Alas! alas for my ancestral home! And what government of prosperous kings will there be in Argos? * * * * And labor upon labor comes on * * * * with his winged mares driven around. But the sun, changing from its proper place, [laid aside] its eye of light. And upon other houses woe has come, because of the golden lamb, murder upon murder, and pang upon pang, whence the avenging Fury of those sons slain of old comes upon the houses of the sons of Tantalus, and some deity hastens unkindly things against thee.

  IPH. From the beginning the demon of my mother’s zone was hostile to me, and from that night in which the Fates hastened the pangs of childbirth * * * * whom, the first-born germ the wretched daughter of Leda, (Clytæmnestra,) wooed from among the Greeks brought forth, and trained up as a victim to a father’s sin, a joyless sacrifice, a votive offering. But in a horse-chariot they brought me to the sands of Aulis, a bride, alas! unhappy bride to the son of Nereus’ daughter, alas! And now a stranger I dwell in an unpleasant home on the inhospitable sea, unwedded, childless, without city, without a friend, not chanting Juno in Argos, nor in the sweetly humming loom adorning with the shuttle the image of Athenian Pallas and of the Titans, but imbruing altars with the shed blood of strangers, a pest unsuited to the harp, [of strangers] sighing forth a piteous cry, and shedding a piteous tear. And now indeed forgetfulness of these matters [comes upon] me, but now I mourn my brother dead in Argos, whom I left yet an infant at the breast, yet young, yet a germ in his mother’s arms and on her bosom, Orestes [the future] holder of the sceptre in Argos.

  CHOR. But hither comes a herdsman, leaving the sea-coast, about to tell thee some new thing.

  HERDSMAN. Daughter of Agamemnon and child of Clytæmnestra, hear thou from me a new announcement.

  IPH. And what is there astonishing in the present report?

  HERDS. Two youths are come into this land, to the dark-blue Symplegades, fleeing into a ship, a grateful sacrifice and offering to Diana. But you can not use too much haste in making ready the lustral waters and the consecrations.

  IPH. Of what country? of what land do the strangers bear the name?

  HERDS. Greeks, this one thing I know, and nothing further.

  IPH. Hast thou not heard the name of the strangers, so as to tell it?

  HERDS. One of them was styled Pylades by the other.

  IPH. But what was the name of the yoke-fellow of this stranger?

  HERDS. No one knows this. For we heard it not.

  IPH. But how saw ye them, and chanced to take them?

  HERDS. Upon the furthest breakers of the inhospitable sea.

  IPH. And what had herdsmen to do with the sea?

  HERDS. We came to lave our steers in the dew of the sea.

  IPH. Go back again to this point — how did ye catch them, and by what means, for I would fain know this? For they are come after a long season, nor has the altar of the Goddess yet been crimsoned with Grecian blood.

  HERDS. After we woodland herdsmen had brought our cattle down to the sea that flows between the Symplegades, there is a certain hollow cave, broken by the frequent lashing of the waves, a retreat for those who hunt for the purple fish. Here some herdsman among us beheld two youths, and he retired back, piloting his step on tiptoe, and said: See ye not? these who sit here are some divine powers. And one of us, being religiously given, uplifted his hand, and addressed them, as he beheld: O son of Leucothea, guardian of ships, Palæmon our lord, be propitious to us, whether indeed ye be the twin sons of Jove (Castor and Pollux) who sit upon our shores, or the image of Nereus, who begot the noble chorus of the fifty Nereids. But another vain one, bold in his lawlessness, scoffed at these prayers, and said that they were shipwrecked seamen who sat upon the cleft through fear of the law, hearing that we here sacrifice strangers. And to most of us he seemed to speak well, and [we resolved] to hunt for the accustomed victims for the Goddess. But meanwhile one of the strangers leaving the rock, stood still, and shook his head up and down, and groaned, with his very fingers quaking, wandering with ravings, and shouts with voice like that of hunter, “Pylades, dost thou behold this? Dost not behold this snake of Hades, how she would fain slay me, armed against me with horrid vipers? And she breathing from beneath her garments fire and slaughter, rows with her wings, bearing my mother in her arms, that she may cast upon me this rocky mass. Alas! she will slay me. Whither shall I fly?” And one beheld not the same form of countenance, but he uttered in turn the bellowings of calves and howls of dogs, which imitations [of wild beasts] they say the Furies utter. But we flinching, as though about to die, sat mute; and he drawing a sword with his hand, rushing among the calves, lion-like, strikes them on the flank with the steel, driving it into their sides, fancying that he was thus avenging himself on the Fury Goddesses, till that a gory foam was dashed up from the sea. Meanwhile, each one of us, as he beheld the herds being slain and ravaged, armed himself, and inflating the conch shells and assembling the inhabitants — for we thought that herdsmen were weak to fight against well-trained and youthful strangers. And a large number of us was assembled in a short time. But the stranger, released from the attack of madness, drops down, with his beard befouled with foam. But when we saw him falle
n opportunely [for us,] each man did his part, with stones, with blows. But the other of the strangers wiped away the foam, and tended his mouth, and spread over him the well-woven texture of his garments, guarding well the coming wounds, and aiding his friend with tender offices. But when the stranger returning to his senses leaped up, he perceived that a hostile tempest and present calamity was close upon them, and he groaned aloud. But we ceased not hurling rocks, each standing in a different place. But then indeed we heard a dread exhortation, “Pylades, we shall die, but that we die most gloriously! Follow me, drawing thy sword in hand.” But when we saw the twain swords of the enemy brandished, in flight we filled the woods about the crag. But if one fled, others pressing on pelted them; and if they drove these away, again the party who had just yielded aimed at them with rocks. But it was incredible, for out of innumerable hands no one succeeded in hitting these victims to the Goddess. And we with difficulty, I will not say overcome them by force, but taking them in a circle, beat their swords out of their hands with stones, and they dropped their knees to earth [overcome] with toil. And we brought them to the king of this land, but he, when he beheld them, sent them as quickly as possible to thee for lustral waters and sacrifice. But do thou, O virgin, wish that such strangers may be here as victims, and if thou slayest these strangers, Hellas will atone for thy [intended] murder, paying the penalty of the sacrifice at Aulis.

  CHOR. Thou hast told wondrous things concerning him who has appeared, whosoever he be that has come to the inhospitable sea from the Grecian earth.

  IPH. Be it so. Do thou go and bring the strangers, but I will take care respecting the matters here. O hapless heart, that once wast mild and full of pity toward strangers, awarding the tear to those of thine own land, when thou didst receive Grecian men into thine hands. But now, because of the dreams by which I am driven wild, thinking that Orestes no longer beholds the sun, ye will find me ill disposed, whoever ye be that come. For this is true, I perceive it, my friends, for the unhappy who themselves fare ill have no good feelings toward those more fortunate. But neither has any wind sent by Jove ever come [hither,] nor ship, which could have brought hither Helen, who destroyed me, and Menelaus, in order that I might be avenged on them, placing an Aulis here to the account of the one there, where the sons of Danaus seized, and would have slain me like as a calf, and the father who begat me was the priest. Ah me! for I can not forget the ills of that time, how oft I stretched out my hands to his beard, and hanging on the knees of him who gave me life, spake words like these: “O father, basely am I, basely am I wedded at thine hands. But my mother, while thou art slaying me, and her Argive ladies are hymning my wedding with their nuptial songs, and all the house resounds with the flute, while I perish by thy hands. Hades in truth was Achilles, not the son of Peleus, whom thou didst name as my husband, and in the chariot didst pilot me by craft unto a bloody wedding.” But I, casting mine eye through my slender woven veil, neither took up with mine hands my brother who is now dead, nor joined my lips to my sister’s, through modesty, as departing to the home of Peleus; and many a salutation I deferred, as though about to come again to Argos. Oh wretched one, if thou hast died! from what glorious state, Orestes, and from how envied a sire’s fortune art thou fallen! But I reproach the devices of the Goddess, who, if any one work the death of a man, or touch with hands a woman newly delivered, or a corpse, restrains him from her altars, as deeming him impure, but yet herself takes pleasure in man-slaying sacrifices. It can not be that the consort of Jove, Latona, hath brought forth so much ignorance. I even disbelieve the banquets of Tantalus set before the Gods, [as that they] should be pleased with feeding on a boy. But I deem that those in this land, being themselves man-slayers, charge the Goddess with their own baseness, for I think not that any one of the Gods is bad.

  CHOR. Ye dark blue, dark blue meetings of the sea, which Io, hurried along by the brize, once passed through to the Euxine wave, having changed the territory of Asia for Europe, — who were they who left fair-watered Eurotas, flourishing in reeds, or the sacred founts of Dirce, and came, and came to the inhospitable land, where the daughter of Jove bedews her altars and column-girt temples with human blood? Of a truth by the surge-dashing oars of fir, worked on both sides, they sailed in a nautical carriage o’er the ocean waves, striving in the emulation after loved wealth in their houses. For darling hope is in dangers insatiate among men, who bear off the weight of riches, wandering in vain speculation on the wave and o’er barbarian cities. But to some there is a mind immoderate after riches, to others they come unsought. How did they pass through the rocks that run together, the ne’er resting beaches of Phineus, [and] the marine shore, running o’er the surge of Amphitrite, — where the choruses of the fifty daughters of Nereus entwine in the dance, — [although] with breezes that fill the sails, the creaking rudders resting at the poop, with southern gales or the breezes of Zephyr, to the bird-haunted land, the white beach, the glorious race-course of Achilles, near the Euxine Sea. Would that, according to my mistress’ prayers, Helen, the dear daughter of Leda, might sometime chance to come, quitting the city of Troy, that, having been drenched about the head with the blood-stained lustral dews, she might die by my mistress’ hand, paying in turn an equal penalty [for her death.] Most joyfully then would we receive this news, if any one came sailing from the Grecian land, to make the toils of my hapless slavery to cease. And would that in my dreams I might tread in mine home and ancestral city, enjoying the hymns of delight, a joy shared with the prosperous. But hither they come, bound as to their two hands with chains, a new sacrifice for the Goddess. Be silent, my friends, for these first-fruits of the Greeks approach the temples, nor has the herdsman told a false tale. O reverend Goddess, if the city performs these things agreeably to thee, receive the sacrifice which, not hallowed among the Greeks, the custom of this place presents as a public offering.

  IPH. Be it so. I must first take care that the rites of the Goddess are as they should be. Let go the hands of the strangers, that being consecrated they may no longer be in bonds. And, going within the temple, make ready the things which are necessary and usual on these occasions. Alas! Who is the mother who once bore you? And who your father, and your sister, if there be any born? Of what a pair of youths deprived will she be brotherless! For all the dispensations of the Gods creep into obscurity, and no one [absent] knows misfortune, for fortune leads astray to what is hardly known. Whence come ye, O unhappy strangers? After how long a time have ye sailed to this land, and ye will be a long time from your home, ever among the shades!

  OR. Why mournest thou thus, and teasest us concerning our future ills, whoever thou art, O lady? In naught do I deem him wise, who, when about to die, with bewailings seeks to overcome the fear of death, nor him who deplores death now near at hand, when he has no hope of safety, in that he joins two ills instead of one, both incurs the charge of folly, and dies none the less. But one must needs let fortune take its course. But mourn us not, for we know and are acquainted with the sacrificial rites of this place.

  IPH. Which of ye twain here is named Pylades? This I would fain know first.

  OR. This man, if indeed ’tis any pleasure for thee to know this.

  IPH. Born citizen of what Grecian state?

  OR. And what wouldst thou gain by knowing this, lady?

  IPH. Are ye brothers from one mother?

  OR. In friendship we are, but we are not related, lady.

  IPH. But what name did the father who begot thee give to thee?

  OR. In truth we might be styled the unhappy.

  IPH. I ask not this. Leave this to fortune.

  OR. Dying nameless, I should not be mocked.

  IPH. Wherefore dost grudge this, and art thus proud?

  OR. My body thou shalt sacrifice, not my name.

  IPH. Nor wilt thou tell me which is thy city?

  OR. No. For thou seekest a thing of no profit, seeing I am to die.

  IPH. But what hinders thee from granting me this favor?

/>   OR. I boast renowned Argos for my country.

  IPH. In truth, by the Gods I ask thee, stranger, art thou thence born?

  OR. From Mycenæ, that was once prosperous.

  IPH. And hast thou set out a wanderer from thy country, or by what hap?

  OR. I flee in a certain wise unwilling, willingly.

  IPH. Wouldst thou tell me one thing that I wish?

  OR. That something, forsooth, may be added to my misfortune.

  IPH. And truly thou hast come desired by me, in coming from Argos.

  OR. Not by myself, at all events; but if by thee, do thou enjoy it.

  IPH. Perchance thou knowest Troy, the fame of which is every where.

  OR. Ay, would that I never had, not even seeing it in a dream!

  IPH. They say that it is now no more, and has fallen by the spear.

  OR. And so it is, nor have you heard what is not the case.

  IPH. And is Helen come back to the house of Menelaus?

  OR. She is, ay, coming unluckily to one of mine.

  IPH. And where is she? For she has incurred an old debt of evil with me also.

  OR. She dwells in Sparta with her former consort.

  IPH. O hateful pest among the Greeks, not to me only!

  OR. I also have received some fruits of her nuptials.