Complete Works of Euripides

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by Euripides


  CHORUS (chanting) Alas! my son, to sorrow I bare thee and carried thee within my womb, enduring the pangs of travail; but now Hades takes the fruit of all my hapless toil, and I that had a son am left, ah me! with none to nurse my age.

  THESEUS As for the noble son of Oecleus, him, while yet he lived, the gods snatched hence to the bowels of the earth, and his chariot too, manifestly blessing him; while I myself may truthfully tell the praises of the son of Oedipus, that is, Polyneices, for he was my guest-friend ere he left the town of Cadmus and crossed to Argos in voluntary exile. But dost thou know what I would have thee do in this?

  ADRASTUS I know naught save this,-to yield obedience to thy hests.

  THESEUS As for yon Capaneus, stricken by the bolt of Zeus-

  ADRASTUS Wilt bury him apart as a consecrated corpse?

  THESEUS Even so; but all the rest on one funeral pyre.

  ADRASTUS Where wilt thou set the tomb apart for him?

  THESEUS Here near this temple have I builded him a sepulchre.

  ADRASTUS Thy thralls forthwith must undertake this toil.

  THESEUS Myself will look to those others; let the biers advance.

  ADRASTUS Approach your sons, unhappy mothers.

  THESEUS This thy proposal, Adrastus, is anything but good.

  ADRASTUS Must not the mothers touch their sons?

  THESEUS It would kill them to see how they are altered.

  ADRASTUS ’Tis bitter, truly, to see the dead even at the moment of death.

  THESEUS Why then wilt thou add fresh grief to them?

  ADRASTUS Thou art right. Ye needs must patiently abide, for the words of Theseus are good. But when we have committed them unto the flames, ye shall collect their bones. O wretched sons of men! Why do ye get you weapons and bring slaughter on one another? Cease therefrom, give o’er your toiling, and in mutual peace keep safe your cities. Short is the span of life, so ‘twere best to run its course as lightly as we may, from trouble free.

  (The corpses, followed by the CHILDREN of the slain chieftains, are carried off to the pyre which is kindled within the sight of the persons on the stage.)

  CHORUS (singing) No more a happy mother I, with children blest; no more I share, among Argive women, who have sons, their happy lot; nor any more will Artemis in the hour of travail kindly greet these childless mothers. Most dreary is my life, and like some wandering cloud drift before the howling blast.

  The seven noblest sons in Argos once we had, we seven hapless mothers; but now my sons are dead, I have no child, and on me steals old age in piteous wise, nor ‘mongst the dead nor ‘mongst the living do I count myself, having as it were a lot apart from these.

  Tears alone are left me; in my house sad memories of my son are stored; mournful tresses shorn from his head, chaplets that he wore, libations for the dead departed, and songs, but not such as golden-haired Apollo welcometh; and when I wake to weep, my tears will ever drench the folds of my robe upon my bosom. Ah! there I see the sepulchre ready e’en now for Capaneus, his consecrated tomb, and the votive offerings Theseus gives unto the dead outside the shrine, and nigh yon lightning-smitten chief I see his noble bride, Evadne, daughter of King Iphis. Wherefore stands she on the towering rock, which o’ertops this temple, advancing along yon path?

  (EVADNE is seen on a rock which overhangs the burning pyre. She is dressed as though for a festival.)

  EVADNE (chanting) What light, what radiancy did the sun-god’s car dart forth, and the moon athwart the firmament, while round her in the gloom swift stars careered, in the day that the city of Argos raised the stately chant of joy at my wedding, in honour of my marriage with mail-clad Capaneus? Now from my home in frantic haste with frenzied mind rush to join thee, seeking to share with thee the fire’s bright flame and the self-same tomb, to rid me of my weary life in Hades’ halls, and of the pains of life; yea, for ’tis the sweetest end to share the death of those we love, if only fate will sanction it.

  LEADER OF THE CHORUS Behold yon pyre, which thou art overlooking, nigh thereto, set apart for Zeus! There is thy husband’s body, vanquished by the blazing bolt.

  EVADNE (chanting) Life’s goal I now behold from my station here; may fortune aid me in my headlong leap from this rock in honour’s cause, down into the fire below. to mix my ashes in the ruddy blaze with my husband’s, to lay me side by side with him, there in the couch of Persephone; for ne’er will to save my life, prove untrue to thee where thou liest in thy grave. Away with life and marriage too! Oh! may my children live to see the dawn of a fairer, happier wedding-day in Argos! May loyalty inspire the husband’s heart, his nature fusing with his wife’s!

  LEADER Lo! the aged Iphis, thy father, draweth nigh to hear thy startling speech, which yet he knows not and will grieve to learn.

  (IPHIS enters.)

  IPHIS Unhappy child! lo! I am come, a poor old man, with twofold sorrow in my house to mourn, that I may carry to his native land the corpse of my son Eteoclus, slain by the Theban spear, and further in quest of my daughter who rushed headlong from the house, for she was the wife of Capaneus and longed with him to die. Ere this she was well guarded in my house, but, when I took the watch away in the present troubles, she escaped. But I feel sure that she is here; tell me if ye have seen her.

  EVADNE Why question them? Lo, here upon the rock, father, o’er the pyre of Capaneus, like some bird I hover lightly, in my wretchedness.

  IPHIS What wind hath blown thee hither, child? Whither thy journey? Why didst thou pass the threshold of my house and seek this land?

  EVADNE It would but anger thee to hear what I intend, and so I fain would keep thee ignorant, my father.

  IPHIS What hath not thy own father a right to know?

  EVADNE Thou wouldst not wisely judge my purpose.

  IPHIS Why dost thou deck thyself in that apparel?

  EVADNE A purport strange this robe conveys, father.

  IPHIS Thou hast no look of mourning for thy lord.

  EVADNE No, the reason why I thus am decked is strange, maybe.

  IPHIS Dost thou in such garb appear before a funeral-pyre?

  EVADNE Yea, for hither it is I come to take the meed of victory.

  IPHIS “Victory!” What victory? This would I learn of thee.

  EVADNE A victory o’er all women on whom the sun looks down.

  IPHIS In Athena’s handiwork or in prudent counsel?

  EVADNE In bravery; for I will lay me down and die with my lord.

  IPHIS What dost thou say? What is this silly riddle thou propoundest?

  EVADNE To yonder pyre where lies dead Capaneus, I will leap down.

  IPHIS My daughter, speak not thus before the multitude!

  EVADNE The very thing I wish, that every Argive should learn it.

  IPHIS Nay, I will ne’er consent to let thee do this deed.

  EVADNE ’Tis all one; thou shalt never catch me in thy grasp. Lo! I cast me down, no joy to thee, but to myself and to my husband blazing on the pyre with me.

  (She leaps into the pyre.)

  CHORUS (chanting) O lady, thou hast done a fearful deed!

  IPHIS Ah me! I am undone, ye dames of Argos!

  CHORUS (chanting) Alack, alack! a cruel blow is this to thee, but thou must yet witness, poor wretch, the full horror of this deed.

  IPHIS A more unhappy wretch than me ye could not find.

  CHORUS (chanting) Woe for thee, unhappy man! Thou, old sir, hast been made partaker in the fortune of Oedipus, thou and my poor city too.

  IPHIS Ah, why are mortal men denied this boon, to live their youth twice o’er, and twice in turn to reach old age? If aught goes wrong within our homes, we set it right by judgment more maturely formed, but our life we may not so correct. Now if we had a second spell of youth and age, this double term of life would let us then correct each previous slip. For I, seeing others blest with children, longed to have them too, and found my ruin in that wish. Whereas if I had had present experience, and by a father’s light had learnt how cruel a thing it i
s to be bereft of children, never should have fallen on such evil days as these,-I who did beget a brave young son, proud parent that I was, and after all am now bereft of him. Enough of this. What remains for such a hapless wretch as me? Shall I to my home, there to see its utter desolation and the blank within my life? or shall to the halls of that dead Capaneus?-halls I smiled to see in days gone by, when yet my daughter was alive. But she is lost and gone, she that would ever draw down my cheek to her lips, and take my head between her hands; for naught is there more sweet unto an aged sire than a daughter’s love; our sons are made of sterner stuff, but less winning are their caresses. Oh! take me to my house at once, in darkness hide me there, to waste and fret this aged frame with fasting! What shall it avail me to touch my daughter’s bones? Old age, resistless foe, how do I loathe thy presence! Them too I hate, whoso desire to lengthen out the span of life, seeking to turn the tide of death aside by philtres, drugs, and magic spells,-folk that death should take away to leave the young their place, when they no more can benefit the world.

  (IPHIS departs. A procession enters from the direction of the pyre, led by the CHILDREN of the slain chieftains, who carry the ashes of their fathers in funeral urns. The following lines between the CHORUS and the CHILDREN are chanted responsively.)

  CHORUS Woe, woe! Behold your dead sons’ bones are brought hither; take them, servants of your weak old mistress, for in me is no strength left by reason of my mourning for my sons; time’s comrade long have I been, and many a tear for many a sorrow have I shed. For what sharper pang wilt thou ever find for mortals than the sight of children dead?

  CHILDREN Poor mother mine, behold I bring my father’s bones gathered from the fire, a burden grief has rendered heavy, though this tiny urn contains my all.

  CHORUS Ah me! ah me! Why bear thy tearful load to the fond mother of the dead, a handful of ashes in the stead of those who erst were men of mark in Mycenae?

  CHILDREN Woe worth the hour! woe worth the day! Reft of my hapless sire, a wretched orphan shall I inherit a desolate house, torn from my father’s arms.

  CHORUS Woe is thee! Where is now the toil I spent upon my sons? what thank have I for nightly watch? Where the mother’s nursing care? the sleepless vigils mine eyes have kept? the loving kiss upon my children’s brow?

  CHILDREN Thy sons are dead and gone. Poor mother! dead and gone; the boundless air now wraps them round.

  CHORUS Turned to ashes by the flame, they have winged their flight to, Hades.

  CHILDREN Father, thou hearest thy children’s lamentation; say, shall I e’er, as warrior dight, avenge thy slaughter?

  CHORUS God grant it, O my child

  CHILDREN Some day, if god so will, shall the avenging of my father be my task; not yet this sorrow sleeps.

  CHORUS Alas! Fortune’s sorrows are enough for me, I have enough of troubles now.

  CHILDREN Shall Asopus’ laughing tide ever reflect my brazen arms as I lead on my Argive troops?

  CHORUS To avenge thy fallen sire.

  CHILDREN Methinks I see thee still before my eye, my father-

  CHORUS Printing a loving kiss upon thy cheek.

  CHILDREN But thy words of exhortation are borne on the winds away.

  CHORUS Two mourners hath he left behind, thy mother and thee, bequeathing to thee an endless legacy of grief for thy father.

  CHILDREN The weight of grief I have to bear hath crushed me utterly.

  CHORUS Come, let me clasp the ashes of my son to my bosom.

  CHILDREN I weep to hear that piteous word; ‘it stabs me to the heart,

  CHORUS My child, thou art undone; no more shall I behold thee, thy own fond mother’s treasure.

  THESEUS Adrastus, and ye dames from Argos sprung, ye see these children bearing in their hands the bodies of their valiant sires whom I redeemed; to thee I give these gifts, I and Athens. And ye must bear in mind the memory of this favour, marking well the treatment ye have had of me. And to these children I repeat the self-same words, that they may honour this city, to children’s children ever handing on the kindness ye received from us. Be Zeus the witness, with the gods in heaven, of the treatment we vouchsafed you ere you left us.

  ADRASTUS Theseus, well we know all the kindness thou hast conferred upon the land of Argos in her need, and ours shall be a gratitude that never waxeth old, for your generous treatment makes us debtors for a like return.

  THESEUS What yet remains, wherein I can serve you?

  ADRASTUS Fare thee well, for such is thy desert and such thy city’s too.

  THESEUS Even so. Mayst thou too have the self-same fortune!

  (ATHENA appears from above.)

  ATHENA Hearken, Theseus, to the words that I Athena utter, telling thee thy duty, which, if thou perform it, will serve thy city. Give not these bones to the children to carry to the land of Argos, letting them go so lightly; nay, take first an oath of them that they will requite thee and thy city for your efforts. This oath must Adrastus swear, for as their king it is his right to take the oath for the whole realm of Argos. And this shall be the form thereof: “We Argives swear we never will against this land lead on our mail-clad troops to war, and, if others come, we will repel them.” But if they violate their oath and come against the city, pray that the land of Argos may be miserably destroyed. Now hearken while I tell thee where thou must slay the victims. Thou hast within thy halls a tripod with brazen feet, which Heracles, in days gone by, after he had o’erthrown the foundations of Ilium and was starting on another enterprise, enjoined the to set up at the Pythian shrine. O’er it cut the throats of three sheep; then grave within the tripod’s hollow belly the oath; this done, deliver it to the god who watches over Delphi to keep, a witness and memorial unto Hellas of the oath. And bury the sharp-edged knife, wherewith thou shalt have laid the victims open and shed their blood, deep in the bowels of the earth, hard by the pyres where the seven chieftains burn; for its appearance shall strike them with dismay, if e’er against thy town they come, and shall cause them to return with sorrow. When thou hast done all this, dismiss the dead from thy land. And to the god resign as sacred land the spot where their bodies were purified by fire, there by the meeting of the triple roads that lead unto the Isthmus. Thus much to thee, Theseus, address; next to the sons of Argos I speak; when ye are grown to men’s estate, the town beside Ismenus shall ye sack, avenging the slaughter of your dead sires; thou too, Aegialeus, shalt take thy father’s place and in thy youth command the host, and with thee Tydeus’ son marching from Aetolia,-him whom his father named Diomedes. Soon as the beards your cheeks o’ershadow must ye lead an armed Danaid host against the battlements of Thebes with sevenfold gates. For to their sorrow shall ye come like lion’s whelps in full-grown might to sack their city. No otherwise is it to be; and ye shall be a theme for minstrels’ songs in days to come, known through Hellas as “the After-born”; so famous shall your expedition be, thanks to Heaven.

  THESEUS Queen Athena, I will hearken to thy bidding; for thou it is dost set me up, so that I go not astray. And I will bind this monarch by an oath; do thou but guide my steps aright. For if thou art friendly to our state, we shall henceforth live secure.

  (ATHENA vanishes.)

  CHORUS (chanting) Let us go, Adrastus, and take the oath to this monarch and his state; for the service they have already done us claims our reverence.

  ELECTRA

  Translated by Gilbert Murray

  Composed between 413-419 BC, it is unclear whether Euripides’ play was produced before or after Sophocles’ version of the Electra story. The tragedy concerns Electra and Orestes, the children of King Agamemnon of Mycenae, and their vengeful killing of their mother Clytemnestra and her lover Aegisthus for the murder of Agamemnon.

  The play begins by introducing Electra as the wife of a humble, but honest farmer. Her mother Clytemnestra, fearing that if Electra remained in the royal household and married a nobleman, her children would be more likely to try to avenge Agamemnon’s death, had opted to give her daugh
ter a farmer for a husband. The man Electra is married to, however, is kind to her and has taken advantage of neither her family name nor her virginity. In return, Electra helps the peasant with household chores. Despite her appreciation for her peasant husband, Electra resents being cast out of her house and her mother’s loyalty to Aegisthus.

  Previously, her brother Orestes was taken out of the country and put under the care of the king of Phocis, where he became friends with the king’s son Pylades. Now grown into manhood, Orestes and his companion Pylades travel to Argos, seeking revenge and they arrive at the house of Electra and her husband. Concealing their identities in order to obtain information, they claim that they are messengers from Orestes, but the aged servant who smuggled Orestes off to Phocis years before recognises him by a scar and the siblings are reunited. Electra is eager to help her brother in bringing down Clytemnestra and Aegisthus and they conspire together, planning a bloodthirsty act of matricide.

 

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