Complete Works of Euripides
Page 76
Diomede.
But to go empty back — what shame ‘twill be! —
And not one blow struck home at the enemy!
Odysseus.
How not one blow? Did we not baulk and kill
Dolon, their spy, and bear his tokens still?
Dost think the whole camp should be thine to quell?
[Diomede takes Dolon’s wolf-mask off his belt and hangs it in Hector’s tent, then turns.
Diomede.
Good. Now for home! And may the end be well!
[As they turn there appears at the back a luminous and gigantic shape, the Goddess Athena.
Athena.
What make ye, from these sleepers thus to part
Desponding and with sorrow-wounded heart
If Hector be not granted you to slay
Nor Paris? Little know ye what great stay
Of help is found for Troy. This very night
Rhesus is come; who, if he see the light
Of morning, not Achilles nor the rack
Of Ajax’ spear hath power to hold him back,
Ere wall and gate be shattered and inside
Your camp a spear-swept causeway builded wide
To where beached galleys flame above the dead.
Him slay, and all is won. Let Hector’s head
Sleep where it lies and draw unvexèd breath;
Another’s work, not thine, is Hector’s death.
Odysseus.
Most high Athena, well I know the sound
Of that immortal voice. ’Tis ever found
My helper in great perils. — Where doth lie
Rhesus, mid all this host of Barbary?
Athena.
Full near he lies, not mingled with the host
Of Troy, but here beyond the lines — a post
Of quiet till the dawn, that Hector found.
And near him, by his Thracian chariot bound,
Two snow-white coursers gleam against the wan
Moon, like the white wing of a river swan.
Their master slain, take these to thine own hearth,
A wondrous spoil; there hides not upon earth
A chariot-team of war so swift and fair.
Odysseus.
Say, Diomede, wilt make the men thy share,
Or catch the steeds and leave the fight to me?
Diomede.
I take the killing, thou the stablery:
It needs keen wit and a neat hand. The post
A man should take is where he helpeth most.
Athena.
Behold, ’tis Paris, hasting there toward
This tent. Methinks he knoweth from the guard
Some noise of prowling Argives hither blown.
Diomede.
Comes he alone or with his guards?
Athena.
Alone;
Toward Hector’s quarters, as I deem, he plies
His message. He hath heard some tale of spies.
Diomede.
Then he shall be the first dead Trojan!
Athena.
No;
Beyond the ordainèd end thou canst not go.
Fate hath not willed that Paris by thy deed
Shall die; it is another who must bleed
To-night. Therefore be swift!
[Exeunt Odysseus and Diomede.
For me, my guise
Shall melt and change in Alexander’s eyes,
Yea, till he dream ’tis Cypris, his delight
And help in need, that meets him in the night,
And soft shall be my words to him I hate.
So speak I; but on whom my spell is set
He hears not, sees not, though so near I stand.
[She becomes invisible where she stands.
Enter Paris.
Paris.
Ho, Hector! Brother! General of the land!
Sleepest thou still? We need thy waking sight.
Our guards have marked some prowler of the night,
We know not if a mere thief or a spy.
[Athena becomes visible again, but seems changed and her voice softer.
Athena.
Have comfort thou! Doth not the Cyprian’s eye
Mark all thy peril and keep watch above
Thy battles? How shall I forget the love
I owe thee, and thy faithful offices?
To crown this day and all its victories,
Lo, I have guided here to Troy a strong
Helper, the scion of the Muse of song
And Strymon’s flood, the crownèd stream of Thrace.
Paris (standing like one in a dream).
Indeed thy love is steadfast, and thy grace
Bounteous to Troy and me. Thou art the joy
And jewel of my days, which I to Troy
Have brought, and made thee hers. — O Cyprian,
I heard, not clearly,— ’twas some talk that ran
Among the pickets — spies had passed some spot
Close by the camp. The men who saw them not
Talk much, and they who saw, or might have seen,
Can give no sign nor token. It had been
My purpose to find Hector where he lay.
Athena.
Fear nothing. All is well in Troy’s array.
Hector is gone to help those Thracians sleep.
Paris.
Thy word doth rule me, Goddess. Yea, so deep
My trust is, that all thought of fear is lost
In comfort, and I turn me to my post.
Athena.
Go. And remember that thy fortunes still
Are watched by me, and they who do my will
Prosper in all their ways. Aye, thou shalt prove
Ere long, if I can care for those I love.
[Exit Paris. She raises her voice.
Back, back, ye twain! Are ye in love with death?
Laertes’ son, thy sword into the sheath!
Our golden Thracian gaspeth in his blood;
The steeds are ours; the foe hath understood
And crowds against you. Haste ye! haste to fly, —
Ere yet the lightning falleth, and ye die!
[Athena vanishes; a noise of tumult is heard.
Enter a crowd of Thracians running in confusion, in the midst of them Odysseus and Diomede.
Voices (amid the tumult).
Ha! Ha! — At them! At them! After them! Down with them! — Where are they?
Captain.
Who is that fellow? Look! That yonder!
A Man.
Rascal thieves, the sort that crawl
And vex an army in the dark!
Captain.
Ho, this way! Follow! This way all!
[They pursue Odysseus and Diomede; catch them and bring them back.
A Man.
I have them! I have caught them!
Captain (to Odysseus).
Whence comest thou? What art thou? Say; what captain and what company?
Odysseus (indignantly).
’Tis not for thee to know. This day thou diest for thy knavery!
Captain.
Stop! Give the watchword quick, before I have thy body on my pike.
Odysseus (in a tone of authority).
Halt every man and have no fear!
Captain.
Come, gather round. Be quick to strike.
Odysseus (to Captain).
’Twas thou that killed King Rhesus!
Captain.
No: ’tis I that kill the man that killed . . .
[Flies at Odysseus, but other men hold him back.
Odysseus.
Hold back all!
Voices.
No more holding back!
Odysseus (as they attack him).
What, strike an ally in the field?
Captain.
Then give the watchword!
Odysseus.
Phoebus.
Captain.
Right. Ho, every man hold back his spea
r! —
Then know’st thou where the men are gone?
Odysseus.
We saw them running, somewhere here.
[He makes off into the darkness. Diomede follows, and some Thracians.
Captain.
Off every one upon their track!
A Man.
Or should we rouse the army?
Captain.
No;
To stir the allies in the night and make more panic!
Let us go.
[The Thracians go off in pursuit. Meantime the original Guards who form the Chorus have hastened back. The two Greeks are presently seen crossing at the back in a different direction.
Chorus.
Who was the man that passed?
Who, that, so madly bold.
Even as I held him fast,
Laughed, and I loosed my hold?
Where shall I find him now?
What shall I deem of him,
To steal thro’ the guards a-row,
Quaking not, eye nor limb,
On thro’ the starlight dim?
Is he of Thessaly,
Born by the Locrian sea,
Or harvester of some starved island’s corn?
What man hath seen his face?
What was his name or race,
What the high God by whom his sires have sworn?
Divers Guards (talking).
This night must be Odysseus’ work, or whose? —
Odysseus? Aye, to judge by ancient use. —
Odysseus surely! — That is thy belief? —
What else? It seems he hath no fear
Of such as we! — Whom praise ye there?
Whose prowess? Say! — Odysseus. — Nay,
Praise not the secret stabbing of a thief!
Chorus.
He came once, of old,
Up thro’ the city throng,
Foam on his lips, a-cold,
Huddled in rags that hung
Covering just the sword
Hid in his mantle’s pleat;
His face grimed and scored,
A priest of wandering feet,
Who begged his bread in the street.
Many and evil things
He cast on the brother kings
Like one long hurt, who nurseth anger sore;
Would that a curse, yea, would
The uttermost wrath of God
Had held those feet from walking Ilion’s shore!
Divers Guards (talking).
Odysseus or another, ’tis the guard
Will weep for this. Aye, Hector will be hard. —
What will he say? — He will suspect. — Suspect?
What evil? What should make you fear? —
’Twas we that left a passage clear. —
A passage? — Yea, for these men’s way,
Who came by night into the lines unchecked.
[A sound of moaning outside in the darkness, which has been heard during the last few lines, now grows into articulate words.
Voice.
Woe, woe!
The burden of the wrath of fate!
Guards.
Ha, listen! Wait.
Crouch on the ground; it may be yet
Our man is drawing to the net.
Voice.
Woe, woe!
The burden of the hills of Thrace!
Leader.
An ally? None of Hellene race.
Voice.
Woe, woe!
Yea, woe to me and woe to thee,
My master! Once to set thine eye
On Ilion the accurst, and die!
Leader (calling aloud).
Ho there! What ally passes? The dim night
Blurreth mine eyes; I cannot see thee right.
Voice.
Ho, some one of the Trojan name!
Where sleeps your king beneath his shield,
Hector? What marshal of the field
Will hear our tale . . . the men who came
And struck us and were gone; and we,
We woke and there was nought to see,
But our own misery.
Leader.
I cannot hear him right; it sounds as if
The Thracians were surprised or in some grief.
[There enters a wounded man, walking with difficulty; he is the Thracian Charioteer who came with Rhesus.
Thracian.
The army lost and the king slain,
Stabbed in the dark! Ah, pain! pain!
This deep raw wound . . . Oh, let me die
By thy side, Master, by thy side!
In shame together let us lie
Who came to save, and failed and died.
Leader.
This needs no surmise: ’tis disaster plain
That comes. He speaketh of some ally slain.
Thracian.
Disaster, yea: and with disaster shame,
Which lights Disaster to a twofold flame
Of evil. For to die in soldier’s wise,
Since die we needs must . . . though the man who dies
Hath pain . . . to all his house ’tis praise and pride;
But we, like laggards and like fools we died!
When Hector’s hand had showed us where to rest
And told the watchword, down we lay, oppressed
With weariness of that long march, and slept
Just as we fell. No further watch was kept,
Our arms not laid beside us; by the horse
No yoke nor harness ordered. Hector’s force
Had victory, so my master heard, and lay
Secure, just waiting for the dawn of day
To attack. So thought we all, and our lines broke
And slept. After a little time I woke,
Thinking about my horses, that the morn
Must see them yoked for war. I found the corn
And gave them plenteously. Then in the deep
Shadow I saw two men who seemed to creep
Close by our line, but swiftly, as I stirred,
Crouched and were seeking to make off unheard.
I shouted then, and bade them keep away:
Two thieves, I thought, from the great host that lay
Round us. They never answered, and, for me,
I said no more but turned and presently
Was sleeping. In my sleep there came a dream.
I seemed to see the horses — mine own team
I had trained long since and drove at Rhesus’ side —
But wolves were on their backs, wolves, couched astride,
Who drove and scourged; I saw the horses rear
And stagger with wide nostrils, stiff with fear,
And, starting up to drive the beasts away,
I woke. — A terror of great darkness lay
About me, but I lifted up my head
And listened. There was moaning, like the dead
That moan at night, and over me there flowed,
So soft, so warm — it was my master’s blood,
Who writhed beside me, dying! With a bound
I sprang up, empty-handed, groping round
For spear or sword, when, lo, a young strong man
Was close to me and slashed, and the sword ran
Deep through my flank. I felt its passage well,
So deep, so wide, so spreading . . . then I fell.
And they, they got the bridles in their hand
And fled. . . . Ah! Ah! This pain. I cannot stand.
[The Guards catch him as he reels, and lay him on
the ground.
I know, I saw, thus much. But why or how
Those dead men went to death I cannot know,
Nor by whose work. But this I say; God send
’Tis not foul wrong wrought on us by a friend.
Leader.
Good charioteer of that ill-fortuned king,
Suspect us not. ’Tis Greeks have done this thing.
But yonder Hector comes. He hath been sh
own
The foul deed, and thy sorrows are his own.
Enter Hector in wrath, with a band of Guards.
Hector.
Ye workers of amazement! Have your eyes
No sight? Ye watch and let these Argive spies
Pass — and our friends are butchered in their sleep —
And then pass back unwounded, laughing deep
Amid the galleys at the news they bring
Of Trojan sluggards and the fool their king?
Great God, ye never baulked them as they came,
Nor smote them as they went!
[His eye falls on the Captain.
Who bears the blame
Of this but thou? Thou wast the watcher set
To guard this host till morn. I tell thee yet
For this deed — I have sworn by Zeus our Lord! —
The scourge of torment or the headsman’s sword
Awaits thee. Else, be Hector in your thought
Writ down a babbler and a man of nought.
Leader (grovelling before Hector).
Woe, woe! It was for thee, only for thee,
I must have gone, O Help and Majesty,
That time with message that the fires were burning.
Mine eye was keen; I swear by Simoïs river,
It never drooped nor slumbered, never, never,
From eve till morning!
My master, verily, I am innocent utterly,
Build not such wrath against me, Lord, nor harden
Thy heart; let Time be judge; and if in deed
Or word I have offended, let me bleed!
Bury me here alive! I ask no pardon.
[Hector is standing over him ready to strike when the Charioteer speaks.
Thracian.
Why threaten them? Art thou a Greek to blind
My barbarous wit so nimbly, in a wind
Of words? This work was thine. And no man’s head
Is asked by us, the wounded and the dead,
Save thine. It needs more play, and better feigned,
To hide from me that thou hast slain thy friend
By craft, to steal his horses. — That is why
He stabs his friends. He prays them earnestly,
Prays them to come; they came and they are dead.
A cleaner man was Paris, when he fled
With his host’s wife. He was no murderer.
Profess not thou that any Greek was there
To fall on us. What Greek could pass the screen
Of Trojan posts in front of us, unseen?
Thyself was stationed there, and all thy men.
What man of yours was slain or wounded when
Your Greek spies came? Not one; ’tis we, behind,
Are wounded, and some worse than wounded, blind
Forever to the sunlight. When we seek
Our vengeance, we shall go not to the Greek.
What stranger in that darkness could have trod
Straight to where Rhesus lay — unless some God
Pointed his path? They knew not, whispered not,
Rhesus had ever come. . . . ’Tis all a plot.