Delphi Complete Works of Sophocles

by Sophocles

  Of Eurytus, whom, sole of earthly powers,

  He had noted as the source of his annoy,

  Because, having received him in his hall

  A guest of ancient days, he burst on him

  With outrage of loud voice and villanous mind,

  Saying, ‘with his hand upon the unerring bow,

  Oechalia’s princes could o’ershoot his skill;

  And born to bondage, he must quail beneath

  His overlord’; lastly, to crown this cry,

  When at a banquet he was filled with wine,

  He flung him out of door. Whereat being wroth,

  When Iphitus to the Tirynthian height

  Followed the track where his brood-mares had strayed,

  He, while the thought and eye of the man by chance

  Were sundered, threw him from the tower-crowned cliff.

  In anger for which deed the Olympian King,

  Father of Gods and men, delivered him

  To be a bond-slave, nor could brook the offence,

  That of all lives he vanquished, this alone

  Should have been ta’en by guile. For had he wrought

  In open quittance of outrageous wrong,

  Even Zeus had granted that his cause was just.

  The braggart hath no favour even in Heaven.

  [281-316] Whence they, o’erweening with their evil tongue,

  Are now all dwellers in the house of death,

  Their ancient city a captive; — but these women

  Whom thou beholdest, from their blest estate

  Brought suddenly to taste of piteous woe,

  Come to thy care. This task thy wedded lord

  Ordained, and I, his faithful minister,

  Seek to perform. But, for his noble self,

  When with pure hands he hath done sacrifice

  To his Great Father for the victory given,

  Look for his coming, lady. This last word

  Of all my happy speech is far most sweet.

  CH. Now surety of delight is thine, my Queen,

  Part by report and part before thine eye.

  DÊ. Yea, now I learn this triumph of my lord,

  Joy reigns without a rival in my breast.

  This needs must run with that in fellowship.

  Yet wise consideration even of good

  Is flecked with fear of what reverse may come.

  And I, dear friends, when I behold these maids,

  Am visited with sadness deep and strange.

  Poor friendless beings, in a foreign land

  Wandering forlorn in homeless orphanhood!

  Erewhile, free daughters of a freeborn race,

  Now, snared in strong captivity for life.

  O Zeus of battles, breaker of the war,

  Ne’er may I see thee turn against my seed

  So cruelly; or, if thou meanest so,

  Let me be spared that sorrow by my death!

  Such fear in me the sight of these hath wrought.

  Who art thou, of all damsels most distressed?

  Single or child-bearing? Thy looks would say,

  A maid, of no mean lineage. Lichas, tell,

  Who is the stranger-nymph? Who gave her birth?

  Who was her sire? Mine eye hath pitied her

  O’er all, as she o’er all hath sense of woe.

  LICH. What know I? Why should’st thou demand? Perchance

  Not lowest in the list of souls there born.

  DÊ. How if a princess, offspring of their King?

  [317-348] LICH. I cannot tell. I did not question far.

  DÊ. Have none of her companions breathed her name?

  LICH. I brought them silently. I did not hear.

  DÊ. Yet speak it to us of thyself, poor maid!

  ’Tis sorrow not to know thee who thou art.

  LICH. She’ll ne’er untie her tongue, if she maintain

  An even tenor, since nor more nor less

  Would she disclose; but, poor unfortunate!

  With agonizing sobs and tears she mourns

  This crushing sorrow, from the day she left

  Her wind-swept home. Her case is cruel, sure, —

  And claims a privilege from all who feel.

  DÊ. Well, let her go, and pass beneath the roof

  In peace, as she desires; nor let fresh pain

  From me be added to her previous woe.

  She hath enough already. Come, away!

  Let’s all within at once, that thou mayest speed

  Thy journey, and I may order all things here.

  [Exit LICHAS, with Captives, into the house. DÊANIRA is about to follow them

  Re-enter Messenger.

  MESS. Pause first there on the threshold, till you learn

  (Apart from those) who ’tis you take within,

  And more besides that you yet know not of,

  Which deeply imports your knowing. Of all this

  I throughly am informed.

  DÊ. What cause hast thou

  Thus to arrest my going?

  MESS. Stand, and hear.

  Not idle was my former speech, nor this.

  DÊ. Say, must we call them back in presence here,

  Or would’st thou tell thy news to these and me?

  MESS. To thee and these I may, but let those be.

  DÊ. Well, they are gone. Let words declare thy drift.

  MESS. That man, in all that he hath lately said,

  Hath sinned against the truth: or now he’s false,

  Or else unfaithful in his first report.

  [349-384] DÊ. What? Tell me thy full meaning clearly forth.

  That thou hast uttered is all mystery.

  MESS. I heard this herald say, while many thronged

  To hearken, that this maiden was the cause,

  Why lofty-towered Oechalia and her lord

  Fell before Heracles, whom Love alone

  Of heavenly powers had warmed to this emprise,

  And not the Lydian thraldom or the tasks

  Of rigorous Omphalè, nor that wild fate

  Of rock-thrown Iphitus. Now he thrusts aside

  The Love-god, contradicting his first tale.

  When he that was her sire could not be brought

  To yield the maid for Heracles to hold

  In love unrecognized, he framed erelong

  A feud about some trifle, and set forth

  In arms against this damsel’s fatherland

  (Where Eurytus, the herald said, was king)

  And slew the chief her father; yea, and sacked

  Their city. Now returning, as you see,

  He sends her hither to his halls, no slave,

  Nor unregarded, lady, — dream not so!

  Since all his heart is kindled with desire.

  I, O my Queen! thought meet to show thee all

  The tale I chanced to gather from his mouth,

  Which many heard as well as I, i’ the midst

  Of Trachis’ market-place, and can confirm

  My witness. I am pained if my plain speech

  Sound harshly, but the honest truth I tell.

  DÊ. Ah me! Where am I? Whither am I fallen?

  What hidden woe have I unwarily

  Taken beneath my roof? O misery!

  Was she unknown, as he that brought her sware?

  MESS. Nay, most distinguished both in birth and mien;

  Called in her day of freedom Iolè,

  Eurytus’ daughter, — of whose parentage,

  Forsooth as ignorant, he ne’er would speak.

  CH. I curse not all the wicked, but the man

  Whose secret practices deform his life.

  [385-413] DÊ. Say, maidens, how must I proceed? The words

  Now spoken have bewildered all my mind.

  CH. Go in and question Lichas, who perchance

  Will tell the truth if you but tax him home.

  DÊ. I will; you counsel reasonably.

  MESS. And I,

  Shall I bi
de here till thou com’st forth? Or how?

  DÊ. Remain. For see, without my sending for him,

  He issueth from the palace of himself.

  Enter LICHAS.

  LICH. What message must I carry to my lord?

  Tell me, my Queen. I am going, as thou seest.

  DÊ. So slow in coming, and so quickly flown,

  Ere one have time to talk with thee anew!

  LICH. What wouldst thou ask me? I am bent to hear.

  DÊ. And art thou bent on truth in the reply?

  LICH. By Heaven! in all that I have knowledge of.

  DÊ. Then tell me, who is she thou brought’st with thee?

  LICH. An islander. I cannot trace her stock.

  MESS. Look hither, man. Who is’t to whom thou speakest?

  LICH. Why such a question? What is thine intent?

  MESS. Nay, start not, but make answer if thou knowest.

  LICH. To Dêanira, Oeneus’ queenly child,

  Heracles’ wife, — if these mine eyes be true, —

  My mistress.

  MESS. Ay, that is the very word

  I longed to hear thee speak. Thy mistress, sayest?

  LICH. To whom I am bound.

  MESS. Hold there! What punishment

  Wilt thou accept, if thou art found to be

  Faithless to her?

  LICH. I faithless! What dark speech

  Hast thou contrived?

  MESS. Not I at all. ’Tis thou

  Dost wrap thy thoughts i’ the dark.

  [414-448] LICH. Well, I will go.

  ’Tis folly to have heard thee for so long.

  MESS. You go not till you answer one word more.

  LICH. One, or a thousand! You’ll not stint, I see.

  MESS. Thou knowest the captive maid thou leddest home?

  LICH. I do. But wherefore ask?

  MESS. Did you not say

  That she, on whom you look with ignorant eye,

  Was Iolè, the daughter of the King,

  Committed to your charge?

  LICH. Where? Among whom?

  What witness of such words will bear thee out?

  MESS. Many and sound. A goodly company

  In Trachis’ market-place heard thee speak this.

  LICH. Ay.

  I said ’twas rumoured. But I could not give

  My vague impression for advised report.

  MESS. Impression, quotha! Did you not on oath

  Proclaim your captive for your master’s bride?

  LICH. My master’s bride! Dear lady, by the Gods,

  Who is the stranger? for I know him not.

  MESS. One who was present where he heard thee tell,

  How that whole city was subdued and taken,

  Not for the bondage to the Lydian girl,

  But through the longing passion for this maid.

  LICH. Dear lady, let the fellow be removed.

  To prate with madmen is mere foolishness.

  DÊ. Nay, I entreat thee by His name, whose fire

  Lightens down Oeta’s topmost glen, be not

  A niggard of the truth. Thou tell’st thy tale

  To no weak woman, but to one who knows

  Mankind are never constant to one joy.

  Whoso would buffet Love, aspires in vain.

  For Love leads even Immortals at his will,

  And me. Then how not others, like to me?

  ‘Twere madness, sure, in me to blame my lord

  When this hath caught him, or the woman there,

  His innocent accomplice in a thing,

  No shame to either, and no harm to me.

  [449-490] It is not so. But if from him thou learnest

  The lore of falsehood, it were best unlearnt;

  Or if the instruction comes of thine own thought,

  Such would-be kindness doth not prove thee kind.

  Then tell me all the truth. To one free-born

  The name of liar is a hateful lot.

  And thou canst not be hid. Thy news was heard

  By many, who will tell me. If thou fearest,

  Thou hast no cause — for doubtfulness is pain,

  But to know all, what harm? His loves ere now

  Were they not manifold? And none hath borne

  Reproach or evil word from me. She shall not,

  Though his new passion were as strong as death;

  Since most mine eye hath pitied her, because

  Her beauty was the ruin of her life,

  And all unweeting, she her own bright land,

  Poor hapless one! hath ravaged and enslaved. —

  Let that be as it must. But for thy part,

  Though false to others, be still true to me.

  CH. ’Tis fairly said. Comply. Thou ne’er wilt blame

  Her faithfulness, and thou wilt earn our loves.

  LICH. Yea, dear my Queen, now I have seen thee hold

  Thy mortal wishes within mortal bound

  So meekly, I will freely tell thee all.

  It is as he avers. This maiden’s love,

  Piercing through Heracles, was the sole cause,

  Why her Oechalia, land of plenteous woe,

  Was made the conquest of his spear. And he —

  For I dare so far clear him — never bade

  Concealment or denial. But myself,

  Fearing the word might wound thy queenly heart,

  Sinned, if thou count such tenderness a sin.

  But now that all is known, for both your sakes,

  His, and thine own no less, look favouringly

  Upon the woman, and confirm the word

  Thou here hast spoken in regard to her: —

  For he, whose might is in all else supreme,

  Is wholly overmastered by her love.

  DÊ. Yea, so my mind is bent. I will do so.

  [491-519] I will not, in a bootless strife ‘gainst Heaven,

  Augment my misery with self-sought ill.

  Come, go we in, that thou may’st bear from me

  Such message as is meet, and also carry

  Gifts, such as are befitting to return

  For gifts new-given. Thou ought’st not to depart

  Unladen, having brought so much with thee.[Exeunt

  CHORUS.

  Victorious in her might,I 1

  The Queen of soft delight

  Still ranges onward with triumphant sway.

  What she from Kronos’ son

  And strong Poseidon won,

  And Pluto, King of Night, I durst not say.

  But who, to earn this bride,

  Came forth in sinewy pride

  To strive, or e’er the nuptial might be known

  With fearless heart I tell

  What heroes wrestled well,

  With showering blows, and dust in clouds upthrown.

  One was a river bold,I 2

  Horn-crowned, with tramp fourfold,

  Bull Achelôüs, Acarnania’s Fear;

  And one from Bacchus’ town,

  Own son of Zeus, came down,

  With brandished mace, bent bow, and barbèd spear.

  Who then in battle brunt,

  Together, front to front,

  Hurled, eager both to win the beauteous prize;

  And Cypris ‘mid the fray

  Alone, that dreadful day,

  Sate umpire, holding promise in her eyes.

  Then clashed the fist, then clanged the bow;II

  Then horns gave crashing blow for blow,

  Whilst, as they clung,

  [520-555] The twining hip throw both essay

  And hurtling foreheads’ fearful play,

  And groans from each were wrung.

  But the tender fair one far away

  Sate watching with an eye of piteous cheer

  (A mother’s heart will heed the thing I say,)

  Till won by him who freed her from her fear.

  Sudden she leaves her mother’s gentle side,

  Borne through the waste, our
hero’s tender bride.

  Enter DÊANIRA.

  DÊ. Dear friends, while yonder herald in the house

  Holds converse with the captives ere he go,

  I have stol’n forth to you, partly to tell

  The craft my hand hath compassed, and in part,

  To crave your pity for my wretchedness.

  For I have taken to my hearth a maid, —

  And yet, methinks, no maiden any more,

  Like some fond shipmaster, taking on board

  A cargo fraught with treason to my heart.

  And now we two are closed in one embrace

  Beneath one coverlet. Such generous meed

  For faith in guarding home this dreary while

  Hath the kind Heracles our trusty spouse,

  Sent in return! Yet, oft as he hath caught

  This same distemperature, I know not how

  To harbour indignation against him.

  But who that is a woman could endure

  To dwell with her, both married to one man?

  One bloom is still advancing, one doth fade.

  The budding flower is cropped, the full-blown head

  Is left to wither, while love passeth by

  Unheeding. Wherefore I am sore afraid

  He will be called my husband, but her mate,

  For she is younger. Yet no prudent wife

  Would take this angerly, as I have said.

  But, dear ones, I will tell you of a way,

  Whereof I have bethought me, to prevent

  This heart-break. I had hidden of long time

  [555-591] In a bronze urn the ancient Centaur’s gift,

  Which I, when a mere girl, culled from the wound

  Of hairy-breasted Nessus in his death.

  He o’er Evenus’ rolling depths, for hire,

  Ferried wayfarers on his arm, not plying

  Or rowing-boat, or canvas-wingèd bark.

  Who, when with Heracles, a new-made bride,

  I followed by my father’s sending forth,

  Shouldering me too, in the mid-stream, annoyed

  With wanton touch. And I cried out; and he,

  Zeus’ son, turned suddenly, and from his bow

  Sent a wing’d shaft, that whizzed into his chest

  To the lungs. Then the weird Thing, with dying voice

  Spake to me:— ‘Child of aged Oeneüs,

  Since thou wert my last burden, thou shalt win

  Some profit from mine act, if thou wilt do

  What now I bid thee. With a careful hand

  Collect and bear away the clotted gore

  That clogs my wound, e’en where the monster snake

  Had dyed the arrow with dark tinct of gall;

  And thou shalt have this as a charm of soul

  For Heracles, that never through the eye

  Shall he receive another love than thine.’

  Whereof bethinking me, for since his death

  I kept it in a closet locked with care,