by Euripides
ION Childless thou enviest that my father found me.
CREUSA And wilt thou make a childless house thy spoil?
ION Devolves my father then no share to me?
CREUSA His shield, his spear; be those thine heritage.
ION Come from the altar, quit that hallow’d seat.
CREUSA Instruct thy mother, whosoe’er she be.
ION Shalt thou unpunish’d meditate my death?
CREUSA Within this shrine if thou wilt murder me.
ION What pleasure mid these sacred wreaths to die?
CREUSA We shall grieve one, by whom we have been grieved.
ION Strange, that the god should give these laws to men,
Bearing no stamp of honour, nor design’d
With provident thought: it is not meet to place
The unrighteous at his altars; worthier far
To be chased thence; nor decent that the vile
Should with their touch pollute the gods: the good,
Oppress’d with wrongs, should at those hallow’d seats
Seek refuge: ill beseems it that the unjust
And just alike should seek protection there.
(As ION and his followers are about to tear CREUSA from the altar, the PRIESTESS of Apollo enters from the temple.)
PRIESTESS Forbear, my son, leaving the oracular seat,
I pass this pale, the priestess of the god,
The guardian of the tripod’s ancient law,
Call’d to this charge from all the Delphian dames.
ION Hail, my loved mother, dear, though not my parent.
PRIESTESS Yet let me have the name, ’tis grateful to me.
ION Hast thou yet heard their wily trains to kill me?
PRIESTESS I have; but void of mercy thou dost wrong.
ION Should I not ruin those that sought my life?
PRIESTESS Stepdames to former sons are always hostile.
ION And I to stepdames ill intreated thus.
PRIESTESS Be not, this shrine now leaving for thy country.
ION How, then, by thy monition should I act?
PRIESTESS Go with good omens, pure to Athens go.
ION All must be pure that kill their enemies.
PRIESTESS So do not thou: attentive mark my words.
ION Speak: from good will whate’er thou say’st must flow.
PRIESTESS Seest thou the vase I hold beneath mine arm?
ION I see an ancient ark entwined with wreaths.
PRIESTESS In this long since an infant I received thee.
ION What say’st thou? New is thy discourse and strange.
PRIESTESS In silence have I kept them: now I show them.
ION And why conceal’d, as long since thou received’st me?
PRIESTESS The god would have thee in his shrine a servant.
ION Is that no more his will? How shall I know it?
PRIESTESS Thy father shown, he sends thee from this land.
ION Hast thou preserved these things by charge, or how?
PRIESTESS It was the god that so disposed my thought.
ION With what design? Speak, finish thy discourse.
PRIESTESS Ev’n to this hour to keep what then I found.
ION What gain imports this to me, or what loss?
PRIESTESS There didst thou lie wrapp’d in thy infant vests.
ION Thou hast produced whence I may find my mother.
PRIESTESS Since now the god so wills, but not before.
ION This is a day of bless’d discoveries.
PRIESTESS Now take them: o’er all Asia, and the bounds
Of Europe hold thy progress: thou shalt know
These tokens. To do pleasure to the god,
I nurtured thee, my son; now to thy hand
Restore what was his will I should receive
Unbidden, and preserve: for what intent
It was his will, I have not power to say.
That I had these, or where they were conceal’d,
No mortal knew. And now farewell: the love
I bear thee equals what a parent feels.
Let thy inquiries where they ought begin;
First, if some Delphian virgin gave thee birth,
And in this shrine exposed thee; next, if one
Of Greece. From me, and from the god, who feels
An interest in thy fortune, thou hast all.
(She goes into the temple after giving ION the ark.)
ION Ah me! the moist tear trickles from mine eye,
When I reflect that she who gave me birth,
By stealth espoused, may with like secrecy
Have sold me, to my infant lips her breast
Denied: but in the temple of the god
Without a name, a servile life I led.
All from the god was gracious, but from fortune
Harsh; for the time when in a mother’s arms
I in her fondness should have known some joy
Of life, from that sweet care was I estranged,
A mother’s nurture: nor less wretched she,
Thus forced to lose the pleasure in her son.
But I will take this vase, and to the god
Bear it, a hallow’d offering; that from thence
I may find nothing which I would not find.
Should she, that gave me being, chance to be
A slave, to find her were a greater ill,
Than to rest silent in this ignorance.
O Phoebus, in thy temple hang I this.
What am I doing? War I not against
The pleasure of the god, who saved for me
These pledges of my mother? I must dare,
And open these: my fate cannot be shunn’d.
(He opens the ark.)
Ye sacred garlands, what have you so long
Conceal’d: ye bands, that keep these precious relics?
Behold the cover of this circular vase;
Its freshness knows no change, as if a god
So will’d; this osier-woven ark yet keeps
Its soundness undecay’d; yet many a year,
Since it contain’d this treasured charge, has pass’d.
CREUSA What an unhoped-for sight do I behold!
ION I thought thou long hadst known to keep thee silent.
CREUSA Silence is mine no more; instruct not me;
For I behold the ark, wherein of old
I laid thee, O my son, an infant babe;
And in the caves of Cecrops, with the rocks
Of Macrai roof’d, exposed thee: I will quit
This altar, though I run on certain death.
ION Seize her; for by the impulse of the god
She leaves the sculptured altar: bind her bands.
CREUSA Instantly kill me, so that I embrace
This vase, and thee, and these thy conceal’d pledges.
ION Is not this strange? I take thee at thy word.
CREUSA Not strange: a friend thou by thy friends art found.
ION Thy friend! Yet wouldst thou kill me secretly.
CREUSA My son: if that to parents is most dear.
ION Forbear thy wiles; I shall refute them well.
CREUSA Might I but to come to what I wish, my son!
ION Is this vase empty, or contains it aught?
CREUSA Thy infant vests, in which I once exposed thee.
ION And wilt thou name them to me, ere thou see them?
CREUSA If I recount them not, be death my meed.
ION Speak then: thy confidence hath something strange.
CREUSA A tissue, look, which when a child I wrought.
ION What is it? Various are the works of virgins.
CREUSA A slight, unfinish’d essay of the loom.
ION What figure wrought? Thou shalt not take me thus.
CREUSA A Gorgon central in the warp enwoven-
ION What fortune haunts me, O supreme of gods!
CREUSA And like an aegis edged with serpents round.
ION Such is the woof
, and such the vest I find.
CREUSA Thou old embroidery of my virgin bands!
ION Is there aught else besides this happy proof?
CREUSA Two dragons, an old work, their jaws of gold.
ION The gift of Pallas, who thus nurtures children?
CREUSA Emblems of Erichthonius of old times.
ION Why? for what use? Explain these works of gold.
CREUSA For ornaments to grace the infant’s neck.
ION See, here they are; the third I wish to know.
CREUSA A branch of olive then I wreathed around thee,
Pluck’d from that tree which from Minerva’s rock
First sprung; if it be there, it still retains
Its verdure: for the foliage of that olive,
Fresh in immortal beauty, never fades.
ION O my dear mother! I with joy behold thee.
With transport ‘gainst thy cheek my cheek recline.
(They embrace.)
CREUSA My son, my son, far dearer to thy mother
Than yon bright orb (the god will pardon me),
Do I then hold thee in my arms, thus found
Beyond my hopes, when in the realms below,
I thought thy habitation ‘mong the dead?
ION O my dear mother, in thy arms I seem
As one that had been dead to life return’d.
CREUSA Ye wide-expanded rays of heavenly light,
What notes, what high-raised strains shall tell my joy?
This pleasure whence, this unexpected transport?
ION There was no blessing farther from my thoughts
Than this, my mother, to be found thy son.
CREUSA I tremble yet.
ION And hast thou yet a fear,
Holding me, not to hold me?
CREUSA Such fond hopes
Long time have I renounced. Thou hallow’d matron,
From whom didst thou receive my infant child?
What bless’d hand brought him to Apollo’s shrine?
ION It was the god’s appointment: may our life
To come be happy, as the past was wretched.
CREUSA Not without tears, my son, wast thou brought forth;
Nor without anguish did my hands resign thee.
Now breathing on thy cheek I feel a joy
Transporting me with heartfelt ecstasies.
ION The words expressive of thy joys speak mine.
CREUSA Childless no more, no more alone, my house
Now shines with festive joy; my realms now own
A lord; Erechtheus blooms again; no more
His high-traced lineage sees night darkening round,
But glories in the sun’s refulgent beams.
ION Now let my father, since he’s present here,
Be partner of the joy which I have given you.
CREUSA What says my son?
ION Such, such as I am proved.
CREUSA What mean thy words? Far other is thy birth.
ION Ah me! thy virgin bed produced me base.
CREUSA Nor bridal torch, my son, nor bridal dance
Had graced my nuptial rites, when thou wast born.
ION Then I’m a wretch, a base-born wretch: say whence.
CREUSA Be witness, thou by whom the Gorgon died,-
ION What means this adjuration?
CREUSA Who hast fix’d
High o’er my cave thy seat amid the rocks
With olive clothed.
ION Abstruse thy words, and dark.
CREUSA Where on the cliffs the nightingale attunes
Her songs, Apollo-
ION Why Apollo named?
CREUSA Led me in secret to his bed.
ION Speak on;
Thy words import some glorious fortune to me.
CREUSA Thee in the tenth revolving month, my son,
A secret pang to Phoebus did I bear.
ION Thy words, if true, are grateful to my soul.
CREUSA These swathing bands, thy mother’s virgin work,
Wove by my flying shuttle, round thy body
I roll’d; but from thy lips my breast withheld,
A mother’s nouriture, nor bathed thy bands
In cleansing lavers; but to death exposed thee,
Laid in the dreary cave, to birds of prey
A feast, rent piecemeal by their ravenous beaks.
ION Cruel, my mother, was thy deed.
CREUSA By fear
Constrain’d, my son, I cast thy life away;
Unwillingly I left thee there to die.
ION And from my hands unholy were thy death.
CREUSA Dreadful was then my fortune, dreadful here,
Whirl’d by the eddying blast from misery there
To misery here, and back again to joy:
Her boisterous winds are changed; may she remain
In this repose: enough of ills are past:
After the storm soft breathes a favouring gale.
LEADER From this example, mid the greatest ills
Never let mortal man abandon hope.
ION O thou, that hast to thousands wrought a change
Of state ere this, involving them in ills,
And raising them to happiness again;
Fortune, to what a point have I been carried,
Ready to kill my mother, horrid thought!
But in the sun’s bright course each day affords
Instruction. Thee, my mother, have I found,
In that discovery bless’d; nor hath my birth
Aught I can blame: yet one thing would I say
To thee alone:-walk this way: to thine ear
In secret would I whisper this, and throw
The veil of darkness o’er each circumstance.
Take heed, my mother, lest thy maiden fault
Seeks in these secret nuptials to conceal
Its fault, then charges on the god the deed;
And, fearing my reproach, to Phoebus gives
A son, to Phoebus whom thou didst not bear.
CREUSA By her, who ‘gainst the giants in her car
Fought by the side of Jove, victorious Pallas,
No one of mortal race is father to thee,
But he who brought thee up, the royal Phoebus.
ION Why give his son then to another father?
Why say that I was born the son of Xuthus?
CREUSA Not born the son of Xuthus; but he gives thee,
Born from himself (as friend to friend may give)
His son, and heir adopted to his house.
ION True is the god, his tripod else were vain.
Not without cause then is my mind perplex’d.
CREUSA Hear what my thoughts suggest: to work thee good
Apollo placed thee in a noble house.
Acknowledged his, the rich inheritance
Could not be thine, nor could a father’s name;
For I conceal’d my nuptials, and had plann’d
To kill thee secretly: for this the god
In kindness gives thee to another father.
ION My mind is prompt to entertain such thoughts;
But, entering at his shrine will I inquire
If from a mortal father I am sprung,
Or from Apollo.-Ha! what may this be?
What god above the hallow’d dome unveils
His radiant face that shines another sun?
Haste, let us fly: the presence of the gods
’Tis not for mortals to behold, and live.
(MINERVA appears from above.)
MINERVA Fly not; in me no enemy you fly;
At Athens friendly to you, and no less
Here. From that land I come, so named from me,
By Phoebus sent with speed: unmeet he deems it
To show himself before you, lest with blame
The past be mention’d; this he gave in charge,
To tell thee that she bore thee, and to him,
Phoebus thy father; he to whom he gave thee,
&nb
sp; Not as to the author of thy being gives thee,
But to the inheritance of a noble house.
This declaration made, lest thou shouldst die,
Kill’d by thy mother’s wily trains, or she
By thee, these means to save you he devised.
These things in silence long conceal’d, at Athens
The royal Phoebus would have made it known
That thou art sprung from her, thy father he:
But to discharge my office, and unfold
The oracle of the god, for which you yoked
Your chariots, hear: Creusa, take thy son,
Go to the land of Cecrops: let him mount
The royal throne; for, from Erechtheus sprung,
That honour is his due, the sovereignty
Over my country: through the states of Greece
Wide his renown shall spread; for from his root
Four sons shall spring, that to the land, the tribes,
The dwellers on my rock, shall give their names.
Geleon the first, Hopletes, Argades,
And from my aegis named Aegicores:
Their sons in fate’s appointed time shall fix
Their seats along the coast, or in the isles
Girt by the Aegean sea, and to my land
Give strength; extending thence the opposite plains
Of either continent shall make their own,
Europe and Asia, and shall boast their name
Ionians, from the honour’d Ion call’d.
To thee by Xuthus shall a son be born,
Dorus, from whom the Dorian state shall rise
To high renown; in the Pelopian land,
Another near the Rhian cliffs, along
The sea-wash’d coast, his potent monarchy
Shall stretch, Achaeus; and his subject realms
Shall glory in their chief’s illustrious name.
Well hath Apollo quitted him in all:
First, without pain he caused thee bear a son.
That from thy friends thou mightst conceal his birth;
After the birth, soon as his infant limbs
Thy hands had clothed, to Mercury he gave
The charge to take the babe, and in his arms
Convey him hither; here with tenderness
He nurtured him, nor suffer’d him to perish.
Guard now the secret that he is thy son,
That his opinion Xuthus may enjoy
Delighted: thou too hast thy blessings, lady.
And now, farewell: from this relief from ills
A prosperous fortune I to both announce.
ION O Pallas, daughter of all-powerful Jove!
Not with distrust shall we receive thy words:
I am convinced that Phoebus is my father,
My mother she, not unassured before.
CREUSA Hear me too, now: Phoebus I praise, before
Unpraised; my son he now restores, of whom
