Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Page 250
Ever spreading from here and there,
With their tempest’s fiery blast,
Over the night-darken’d city. —
Flying, saw I through smoke and glare,
And the flash of the tongued flames,
Dreadful, threatening gods draw near;
Wondrous figures, of giant mould,
Onward striding through the weird
Gloom of fire-luminous vapor.
Saw I them, or did my mind,
Anguish-torn, itself body forth
Phantoms so terrible — nevermore
Can I tell; but that I this
Horrible shape with eyes behold,
This of a surety know I!
Yea, with my hands could clutch it even,
Did not fear, from the perilous
Venture, ever withhold me.
Tell me, of Phorkyas’
Daughters which art thou?
For to that family
Thee must I liken.
Art thou, may be, one of the gray-born?
One eye only, and but one tooth
Using still alternately?
One of the Graiæ art thou?
Darest thou, Horror,
Thus beside beauty,
Or to the searching glance
Phœbus’ unveil thee?
Nathless step thou forward undaunted;
For the horrible sees he not,
As his hallow’d glances yet
Never gaz’d upon shadows.
But a tragical fate, alas,
Us, poor mortals, constrains to bear.
Anguish of vision, unspeakable,
Which the contemptible, ever-detestable,
Doth in lovers of beauty wake!
Yea, so hearken then, if thou dar’st
Us to encounter, hear our curse,
Hark to each imprecation’s threat,
Out of the curse-breathing lips of the happy
ones,
Who by the gods created are!
Phorkyas.
Trite is the word, yet high and true remains the sense:
That Shame and Beauty ne’er together, hand in hand,
Their onward way pursue, earth’s verdant path along.
Deep-rooted in these twain dwelleth an ancient grudge,
So that, where’er they happen on their way to meet,
Upon her hated rival turneth each her back;
Then onward speeds her course with greater vehemence,
Shame fill’d with sorrow, Beauty insolent of mood,
Till her at length embraces Orcus’ hollow night,
Unless old age erewhile her haughtiness hath tam’d.
You find I now, ye wantons, from a foreign shore,
With insolence o’erflowing, like the clamorous flight
Of cranes, with shrilly scream that high above our heads,
A long and moving cloud, croaking send down their noise,
Which the lone pilgrim lures, wending his silent way,
Aloft to turn his gaze; yet on their course they fare,
He also upon his: so will it be with us.
Who are ye then, that thus around the monarch’s house,
With Mænad rage, ye dare like drunken ones to rave?
Who are ye then that ye the house’s stewardess
Thus bay, like pack of hounds hoarsely that bay the moon?
Think ye, ’tis hid from me, the race whereof ye are?
Thou youthful, war-begotten, battle-nurtur’d brood,
Lewd and lascivious thou, seducers and seduc’d,
Unnerving both the soldier’s and the burgher’s strength!
Seeing your throng, to me a locust-swarm ye seem,
Which, settling down, conceals the young green harvest-field.
Wasters of others’ toil! ye dainty revellers,
Destroyers in its bloom of all prosperity!
Thou conquer’d merchandise, exchang’d and marketed!
Helena.
Who in the mistress’ presence chides her handmaidens,
Audacious, doth o’erstep her household privilege;
For her alone beseems the praiseworthy to praise,
As also that to punish which doth merit blame.
Moreover with the service am I well content,
Which these have render’d me, what time proud Ilion’s strength
Beleaguer’d stood, and fell and sank; nor less indeed
When we, of our sea-voyage the dreary changeful woe
Endur’d, where commonly each thinks but of himself.
Here also I expect the like from this blithe train;
Not what the servant is, we ask, but how he serves.
Therefore be silent thou, and snarl at them no more!
If thou the monarch’s house till now hast guarded well
Filling the mistress’ place, that for thy praise shall count;
But now herself is come, therefore do thou retire,
Lest chastisement be thine, instead of wellearn’d meed!
Phorkyas.
The menial train to threat, a sacred right remains,
Which the illustrious spouse of heaven-favor’d lord
Through many a year doth earn of prudent governance.
Since that, now recogniz’d, thy ancient place as queen,
And mistress of the house, once more thou dost resume,
The long-time loosen’d reins grasp thou; be ruler here,
And in possession take the treasures, us with them!
Me before all protect, who am the elder-born,
From this young brood, who seem, thy swanlike beauty near,
But as a basely winged flock of cackling geese!
Leader of the Chorus.
How hideous beside beauty showeth hideousness!
Phorkyas.
How foolish by discretion’s side shows foolishness!
[Henceforth the choristers respond in turn, stepping forth singly from the Chorus.
First Chorister.
Tell us of Father Erebus, tell us of Mother Night!
Phorkyas.
Speak thou of Scylla, speak of her, thy sister-born!
Second Chorister.
From thy ancestral tree springs many a monster forth.
Phorkyas.
To Orcus hence, away! Seek thou thy kindred there!
Third Chorister.
Who yonder dwell, in sooth, for thee are far too young.
Phorkyas.
Tiresias, the hoary, go, make love to him!
Fourth Chorister.
Orion’s nurse of old, was thy great-granddaughter.
Phorkyas.
Harpies, so I suspect, did rear thee up in filth.
Fifth Chorister.
Thy cherish’d meagreness, whereon dost nourish that?
Phorkyas.
’Tis not with blood, for which so keenly thou dost thirst.
Sixth Chorister.
For corpses dost thou hunger, loathsome corpse thyself!
Phorkyas.
Within thy shameless jaw the teeth of vampires gleam.
Seventh Chorister.
Thine I should stop were I to tell thee who thou art.
Phorkyas.
First do thou name thyself; the riddle then is solv’d.
Helena.
Not wrathful, but in grief, step I between you now,
Forbidding such alternate quarrel’s angry noise;
For to the ruler naught more hurtful can befall,
Than, ‘mong his trusty servants, sworn and secret strife;
The echo of his mandate then to him no more,
In swift accomplish’d deed responsively returns;
No, stormful and self-will’d, it rages him around,
The self-bewilder’d one, and chiding still in vain.
Nor this alone; ye have in rude unmanner’d wrath
Unblessed images of dreadful shapes evok’d,
Which so encompass me, that whirl’d I feel myself
To O
rcus down, despite these my ancestral fields.
Is it remembrance? Was it frenzy seiz’d on me?
Was I all that? and am I? shall I henceforth be
The dread and phantom-shape of those townwasting ones?
The maidens quail: but thou, the eldest, thou dost stand,
Calm and unmov’d; speak, then, to me some word of sense!
Phorkyas.
Who of long years recalls the fortune manifold,
To him Heaven’s highest favor seems at last a dream.
But thou, so highly favor’d, past all bound or goal,
Saw’st, in thy life-course, none but love-in-flamed men,
Kindled by impulse rash to boldest enterprise.
Theseus by passion stirr’d full early seiz’d on thee,
A man of glorious form, and strong as Heracles.
Helena.
Forceful he bore me off, a ten-year slender roe,
And in Aphidnus’ keep shut me, in Attica.
Phorkyas.
But thence full soon set free, by Castor, Pollux too,
In marriage wast thou sought by chosen heroband.
Helena.
Yet hath Patroclus, he, Pelides’ other self,
My secret favor won, as willingly I own.
Phorkyas.
But thee thy father hath to Menelaus wed,
Bold rover of the sea, and house-sustainer too.
Helena.
His daughter gave he, gave to him the kingdom’s sway;
And from our wedded union sprang Hermione.
Phorkyas.
But while he strove afar, for Crete, his heritage,
To thee, all lonely, came an all too beauteous guest.
Helena.
Wherefore the time recall of that half-widowhood,
And what destruction dire to me therefrom hath grown!
Phorkyas.
That voyage unto me, a freeborn dame of Crete,
Hath also capture brought and weary servitude.
Helena.
As stewardess forthwith, he did appoint thee here,
With much entrusted, — fort and treasure boldly won.
Phorkyas.
All which thou didst forsake, by Ilion’s tower-girt town
Allur’d, and by the joys, the exhaustless joys of love.
Helena.
Remind me not of joys. No, an infinitude
Of all too bitter woe o’erwhelm’d my heart and brain.
Phorkyas.
Nathless ’tis said thou didst in twofold shape appear;
Seen within Ilion’s walls, and seen in Egypt too.
Helena.
Confuse thou not my brain, distraught and desolate!
Here even, who I am in sooth I cannot tell.
Phorkyas.
’Tis also said, from out the hollow shadow-realm,
Achilles, passion-fir’d, hath join’d himself to thee,
Whom he hath lov’d of old, ‘gainst all resolves of Fate.
Helena.
As phantom I myself, to him a phantom bound;
A dream it was — thus e’en the very words declare.
I faint, and to myself a phantom I become.
[She sinks into the arms of the semi-chorus.
Chorus.
Silence! Silence!
False seeing one, false speaking one, thou!
Through thy horrible, single-tooth’d lips,
Ghastly, what exhaleth
From such terrible loathsome gulf!
For the malignant one, kindliness feigning,
Rage of wolf ‘neath the sheep’s woolly fleece,
Far more terrible is unto me than
Jaws of the hound three-headed.
Anxiously watching stand we here:
When? How? Where of such malice
Bursteth the tempest
From this deep-lurking brood of Hell?
Now, ‘stead of friendly words, freighted with comfort,
Lethe-bestowing, gracious and mild,
Thou art summoning from times departed,
Thoughts of the past most hateful,
Overshadowing not alone
All sheen gilding the present,
Also the future’s
Mildly glimmering light of hope.
Silence! Silence!
That fair Helena’s soul,
Ready e’en now to take flight,
Still may keep, yea firmly keep
The form of all forms, the loveliest,
Ever illumin’d of old by the sun.
[Helenahas revived, and again stands in the midst.
Phorkyas.
Forth emerge from fleeting cloudlets, sun resplendent of this day,
If when veil’d thou could’st delight us, dazzling now thy splendor reigns.
As the world unfolds before thee, thou dost gaze with gracious look.
Though as hideous they revile me, well the beautiful I know.
Helena.
Giddy from the void I issue, that in fainting round me clos’d,
Rest once more I fain would cherish, for soreweary are my limbs;
Yet the queen it still beseemeth, yea all mortals it beseems,
Self-controll’d, to man their spirits, whatsoe’er of ill may threat.
Phorkyas.
In thy greatness now thou standest, in thy beauty ‘fore us there,
Tells thy glance that thou commandest; what command’st thou? speak it forth!
Helena.
The delay your strife occasion’d, now prepare ye to retrieve:
Haste, a sacrifice to order, as the king commanded me!
Phorkyas.
In the palace all is ready: censer, tripod, sharpen’d axe,
For lustration and for incense; now the destin’d victim show!
Helena.
That to me the king disclos’d not.
Phorkyas.
Spake it not? O doleful word!
Helena.
What the sorrow that o’erpowers thee?
Phorkyas.
Queen, it is thyself art meant!
Helena.
I?
Phorkyas.
And these.
Chorus.
Oh, woe and wailing!
Phorkyas.
Thou wilt perish by the axe.
Helena.
Dreadful — yet surmis’d! Me wretched!
Phorkyas.
Unavoidable it seems.
Chorus.
And to us, ah what will happen?
Phorkyas.
She a noble death will die;
But upon the lofty rafter, that upholds the gable-roof,
As in fowling-time the thrushes, ye shall struggle in a row.
[Helenaand the Chorus stand astounded and terrified, in striking, well-arranged groups.
Phorkyas.
Poor phantoms! — Stand ye there like figures petrified,
In deadly fear to part from day, which is not yours.
Mortals, who phantoms are together like as ye,
Not willingly renounce the sun’s resplendent beams;
Yet from their doom may none save them by force or prayer;
All know it, yet can few with pleasure welcome it!
Enough, ye all are lost. So to the work forthwith!
[She claps her hands; thereupon appear at the door masked dwarfish figures, who execute with alacrity the orders as they are delivered.
Approach, thou swarthy, round, misshapen, goblin train!
Roll yourselves hither! Mischief work ye here at will.
The altar, golden-horn’d, bear ye, and give it place;
And let the gleaming axe o’erlay the silver rim!
The water-vessels fill, wherewith to wash away
Of black polluting gore, the horror-breathing stain;
The costly carpet here outspread upon the dust,
That so the victim may in royal fashion kneel,
And wrapp’d within its folds, although with sever’d head,
Sepulchr’d straight may be, with honorable rites!
Leader of the Chorus.
The queen, absorb’d in thought, beside us stands apart;
Blenching the maidens droop, like meadowgrass when mown;
On me, the eldest, seems a sacred duty laid,
With thee to barter words, thou form of primal eld.
Experienc’d art thou, wise, well-minded seem’st to us,
Although this brainless troop, misjudging, thee revil’d:
Tell then, if thou dost know, of rescue possible.
Phorkyas.
’Tis easy said. Alone it resteth with the queen
Herself to save, and you her handmaidens with her.
Needful is prompt resolve, and of the quickest too!
Chorus.
Most revered among the Parcæ, wisest of the Sibyls thou,
Sheathed hold the golden scissors, light and life to us proclaim!
For our tender limbs already, feel we dangling, unrejoicing,
Swinging to and fro, that rather in the dance rejoic’d of yore,
Resting then on lover’s breast.
Helena.
These tremblers leave ye; sorrow feel I, naught of fear;
Yet know’st thou rescue, straight be it with thanks receiv’d!
To sage, far-seeing minds, oft the impossible
As possible doth show. Speak on and tell thy thought!
Chorus.
Speak and tell us, tell us quickly; how may we escape the ghastly,
Odious nooses, that, with menace, like to ornaments the vilest,
Round our necks themselves are coiling? We, poor victims, feel beforehand,
Feel the stifling, feel the choking, if of all the gods, thou, Rhea,
Lofty mother, feel’st no pity!
Phorkyas.
Have ye patience, to my story’s course protracted
Still to hearken? Manifold its windings are.
Chorus.
Patience enough! For while we hearken still we live.
Phorkyas.
The man at home who tarries, noble wealth who guards,
And knoweth to cement his dwelling’s lofty walls,
As also to secure his roof ‘gainst stress of rain,
With him shall all go well, through the long day of life:
But lightly who o’ersteps, with rash and flying foot,
His threshold’s sacred bounds, by guilty aim impell’d,
Shall find, on his return, the ancient place, indeed,
But alter’d everything, if not completely wreck’d.
Helena.
Declare, whereto these trite and well-known proverbs here?
Thou should’st relate; stir not what needs must give offence!
Phorkyas.
True history it is, in no wise a reproof.
As pirate Menelaus steer’d from bay to bay;
Mainland and islands, all he ravag’d as a foe,
With spoil returning home, as it within lies stor’d.
He before Ilion’s walls hath wasted ten long years,