Part 13

CHA. We are most wretched, And to our wretchedness have joined disgrace, A twofold evil. For, to die with glory, If glory must be purchased at the expense Of life, is very bitterness I deem To him who bleeds (for what can make amends For such a loss as life); but to the living Is he the source of pride, from him his house Derives renown. But we, alas! like fools, Ignobly perish. Hector in the camp No sooner fixed our station, and pronounced The watchword, than we slept upon the plain, O’ercome with toil; no sentinels were stationed To watch our troops by night, nor were our arms Duly arranged, and to the harnessed steeds Hung no alarm bell; for our monarch heard That ye had proved victorious, and with ruin Threatened the Grecian fleet. Immersed we lay In luckless slumber; till disturbed in mind I started up, and with a liberal hand Measured the coursers’ food, resolved betimes To yoke them for the battle. I beheld Two men, who, in the midnight darkness, walked Around our camp; but when I moved, they fled, And disappeared immediately; with threats I bade them keep aloof: ’twas my conjecture That robbers, some of our own countrymen, Approached: they answered not, nor know I more. Returning to my tent, again I slept, And forms tremendous hovered in my dream. For near my royal master, as I stood, I saw two visionary wolves ascend Those coursers’ backs which I was wont to guide, Oft lashing with their tails they forced them on, Indignant breathing as they champed the bit, And struggling with dismay; but in attempting To drive away these ravenous beasts, I woke, Roused by the terrors of the night, and heard, Soon as I raised my head, expiring groans; The tepid current of my master’s blood, Yet gasping in the agonies of death, Besprinkled me. As from the couch I leaped Unarmed, and sought for weapons, some strong warrior Smote with his sword my ribs; the ghastly wound Displayed his might: prostrate I sunk to earth. Bearing the steeds away, and glittering car, They by the swiftness of their feet escaped, Tortured with pain, too faint to stand, I know Too well the dire calamity these eyes Beheld; but cannot say, or through what means, Or by the hand of whom, my lord was slain: Yet can I guess that by our friends we suffer.

CHOR. O charioteer of Thracia’s wretched king, Be well assured this deed was by our foes Committed. For lo! Hector’s self, apprized Of this calamity, draws near; he feels Such anguish as he ought for thy disasters.

HECTOR, CHARIOTEER OF RHESUS, CHORUS.

HEC. O ye accursed authors of this mischief, How did those spies, who by the foe were sent Thus, to your infamy, escape, and spread Dire havoc through the host; both as they entered And as they left the camp? Yet, unmolested, Ye suffered them to pass. Who should be punished But you? for you, I say, were stationed here To watch the camp; but they without a wound Are vanished, laughing at the Phrygian troops For their unmanly cowardice, and me Their leader. Be assured, by Jove I swear, All-gracious father, or the scourge or death Shall wait you for such guilt, else deem that Hector Is but a thing of nought, a very coward.

CHOR. Great is, alas! my danger, mighty prince, The foe stole in while I to you conveyed Those tidings, that the Greeks around their ships Had kindled fires: through all the live-long night These watchful eyes have ne’er been sealed by sleep. By Simois’ holy fountain I conjure you, My royal lord, impute no blame to me, For I am wholly guiltless. If you learn That in my deeds or words I have offended, Plunge me alive beneath earth’s deepest vault; I ask no mercy.

CHA. Why dost thou upbraid These for the guilt? by plausible harangues Wouldst thou impose on thy barbarian friends; O thou barbarian, thou the bloody deed Didst perpetrate; nor can our slaughtered comrades, Nor we who linger pierced with ghastly wounds, Admit that ’twas another. There requires A long and subtle speech to make me think Thou didst not basely murder thy allies, Because the beauty of our steeds attracted Thy admiration, and on their account Hast thou slain those who at thy earnest prayer Landed on Ilion’s shore; they came, they died. With greater decency than thou observ’st, Who dost assassinate thy friends, did Paris The rites of hospitality infringe. Pretend not that some Grecian came unseen And smote us. Who subdued the Phrygian host, Who reached our quarters unobserved by Hector? Thou with the Trojan army wert before us; But who was wounded, who among thy troops Expired, when through their ranks as thou pretend’st The foe to us advanced? But I was wounded, And they, whom a more grievous ill o’ertook, No more behold the sun. To be explicit, I charge no Greek: what foe could come by night And find out Rhesus’ tent, unless some god Had told the murderers, for they sure knew nought Of his arrival? therefore all this mischief Must be thy sole contrivance.

HEC. Our allies Have long assisted us since first the Greeks This realm invaded; and I never heard They to my charge imputed any crime. Could I begin with thee? by such desire For beauteous steeds may I be never seized, As to induce me to destroy my friends. Ulysses was the author of this deed. What Greek could have accomplished or contrived Such an exploit, but he? Him much I fear: My soul is also troubled lest he light On Dolon too, and slay him, for ’tis long Since he went forth, nor doth he yet return.

CHA. I know not that Ulysses whom thou nam’st, Nor did a foe inflict this ghastly wound.

HEC. Therefore retain, since thus to thee it seems, Thy own opinion.

CHA. O my native land, Might I but die in thee!

HEC. Thou shalt not die: For of the dead the number is sufficient.

CHA. Reft of my lord, but whither shall I turn?

HEC. Thou in my house shalt careful treatment find, And healing balsams.

CHA. Shall the ruthless hands Of murderers dress my wounds?

HEC. He will not cease Alleging the same charge.

CHA. Perdition seize The author of this bloody deed! my tongue Has fixed no charge, as thou pretend’st, on thee; But Justice knows.

HEC. Conduct him to my palace With speed, that we may ’scape his clamorous plaints. But you must go, and to the citizens Proclaim, acquainting Priam, and the elders Who sit in council, first, that I direct The bodies of the slain shall be interred With due respect beside the public road.

[_Exit_ CHARIOTEER, _supported by one of_ HECTOR’S _Attendants_.

CHOR. Why from the summit of exalted bliss Into fresh woes hath some malignant god Plunged Troy, why caused this sad reverse of fortune?

_The_ MUSE _appears in the air_, HECTOR, CHORUS.

CHOR. High o’er our heads what deity, O king, Is hovering? in her hands a recent corse She bears: I shudder at the dreadful sight.

MUSE. Ye Trojans, mark me well: for I a Muse Who by the wise am worshipped, hither come, One of the nine famed sisters, having seen The wretched fate of this my dearest son, Who by the foe was slain: but he who smote The generous youth, Ulysses, that dissembler, At length shall suffer as his crimes deserve.

ODE.

I.

Parental anguish rends my breast, For thee my son, my son, I grieve, Thy mother sinks with woes oppressed. Why didst thou take this road, why leave Thy home, and march to Ilion’s gate, Where death did thy arrival wait? Oft with maternal zeal I strove Thy luckless courage to restrain, And oft thy sire opposed in vain. But now with ineffectual love, My dearest son, thee now no more, Thee, O my son, must I deplore.

CHOR. As far as bosoms, by no kindred ties United, can partake a mother’s grief, Do I bewail thy son’s untimely fate.

MUSE.

II.

On him your tenfold vengeance shed From Oeneus who derives his birth, Smite base Ulysses’ perjured head, Ye fiends who desolate the earth; Through them with agonizing pain I mourn my valiant offspring slain; May Helen too partake their doom, Who from her bridal mansions fled, And sought th’ adulterer’s Phrygian bed; For thou in Troy art to the tomb By her consigned; and many a state Bewails its bravest warriors’ fate.

Much while on earth, and since thy murmuring ghost Was plunged in Orcus’ dreary mansions more, O offspring of Philammon, didst thou wound My soul: that arrogance which caused thy ruin, That contest with Pieria’s choir, gave birth To this unhappy youth: for having passed The rapid current, with incautious step Approaching Strymon’s genial bed, we mounted Pangæum’s summit, for its golden mines Distinguished; each melodious instrument Around us in full concert breathed; our strife Was there decided with the Thracian minstrel; That Thamyris who dared blaspheme our art, We of his eyes deprived. But since I bore Thee, O my son, through deference for my sisters, And for my own reputed chastity, Thee to the watery mansions of thy sire I sent; and Strymon, to no human care, But to the nymphs who haunt his limpid founts, For nurture did consign thee; from those virgins When, O my dearest son, thou hadst received The best of educations, thou becam’st Monarch of Thrace, the first of men. I felt No boding apprehensions of thy death; By thee, while marshalled on thy native ground, Athirst for blood the dauntless squadrons moved. But thee I cautioned, for I knew thy fate, That thou to Troy shouldst never go; but thee Th’ ambassadors of Hector and the Senate, By oft repeated messages, persuaded To come to the assistance of thy friends. Yet think not, O Minerva, thou sole cause Of my son’s fate, that thou these watchful eyes Hast ’scaped; Ulysses and the son of Tydeus Were not the authors of this bloody deed, Although they gave the wound. We sister Muses Honour thy city, in thy land we dwell. Orpheus, the kinsman of this hapless youth Whom thou hast slain, dark mysteries did unfold; And by Apollo, and our sister choir, Thy venerable citizen Musæus Was taught to soar beyond each warbled strain Of pristine melody: but in return For all these favours, bearing in my arms My son, I utter this funereal dirge; But I no other minstrel will employ.

CHOR. Falsely the wounded Thracian charioteer Charged us with a conspiracy to slay him.

HEC. Full well I knew, there needed not a seer T’ inform me, that he perished by the arts Of Ithacus. But was it not my duty When I my country saw by Grecian troops Besieged, to send forth heralds to my friends, Requesting them to aid us? I did send, And Rhesus came, by gratitude constrained, Illustrious partner of my toils. His death Lamenting, will I raise a tomb to grace The corse of my ally, and o’er the flame Strew tissued vests: for with confederate arms Dauntless he came, though piteous was his death.

MUSE. They shall not plunge him in the yawning grave, Such vows will I address to Pluto’s bride, Daughter of fruitful Ceres, to release His ghost from the drear shades beneath: she owes To Orpheus’ friends such honours. But henceforth, Dead as it were to me, will he no more Behold the sun, we ne’er must meet again, Nor shall he see his mother, but shall lie Concealed beneath the caverns of that land With silver mines abounding, from a man Exalted to a god, restored to life, The priest of Bacchus, and of him who dwells Beneath Pangeum’s rock, a god adored By those who haunt his orgies. But ere long To yonder goddess of the briny waves Shall I bear doleful tidings: for by fate It is decreed, her offspring too shall die; But first our sisterhood, in choral plaints, Will sing of thee, O Rhesus, and hereafter Achilles, son of Thetis, shall demand Our elegiac strains, not she who slew Thee, hapless youth, Minerva, can redeem him; Such an inevitable shaft is stored In Phœbus’ quiver. O ye pangs that rend A mother’s breast, ye toils the lot of man; They who behold you in your real light Will live without a progeny, nor mourn With hopeless anguish o’er their children’s tomb.

[_Exit the_ MUSE.

CHOR. To bury the deceased with honours due, Will be his mother’s care: but if, O Hector, Thou mean’st to execute some great emprise, ’Tis now the time: for morn already dawns.

HEC. Go, and this instant bid our comrades arm, Harness the steeds: but while ye in these toils Are busied, ye the signal must await, Th’ Etrurian trumpet’s clangour; for I trust I first shall o’er the Grecian host prevail, Shall storm their ramparts, and then burn their fleet, And that Hyperion’s orient beams will bring A day of freedom to Troy’s valiant race.

CHOR. Obey the monarch: clad in glittering mail Let us go forth, and his behests proclaim To our associates; for that god who fights Our battles, haply will bestow success.

THE TROJAN CAPTIVES.

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

NEPTUNE. MINERVA. HECUBA. CHORUS OF CAPTIVE TROJAN DAMES. TALTHYBIUS. CASSANDRA. ANDROMACHE. MENELAUS. HELEN.

SCENE.—BEFORE THE ENTRANCE OF AGAMEMNON’S TENT IN THE GRECIAN CAMP NEAR TROY.

NEPTUNE.

From the Ægean deep, in mazy dance Where Nereus’ daughters glide with agile feet, I Neptune hither come. For round the fields Of Ilion, since Apollo and myself With symmetry exact reared many a tower Hewn from the solid rock; the love I bore The city where my Phrygian votaries dwelt, Laid waste by Greece, where smoke e’en now ascends The heavens, hath ne’er been rooted from this breast, For on Parnassus bred, the Phocian chief Epeus, by Minerva’s arts inspired, Framed with a skilful hand, and through the gates Sent that accursed machine, the horse which teemed With ambushed javelins. Through forsaken groves, Through the polluted temples of the gods, Flow tides of crimson slaughter; at the base Of altars sacred to Hercæan Jove, Fell hoary Priam. But huge heaps of gold And Phrygian plunder, to the fleet of Greece Are sent: the leaders of the host that sacked This city, wait but for a prosperous breeze, That after ten years absence they their wives And children may with joy behold. Subdued By Juno, Argive goddess, and Minerva, Who leagued in Phrygia’s overthrow, I leave Troy the renowned, and my demolished shrines. For when pernicious solitude extends O’er cities her inexorable sway, Abandoned are the temples of the gods, None comes to worship there. Scamander’s banks Re-echo many a shriek of captive dames Distributed by lot; th’ Arcadians, some, Some the Thessalians gain, and some the sons Of Theseus leaders of th’ Athenian troops: But they whom chance distributes not, remain Beneath yon roof selected by the chiefs Of the confederate army. Justly deemed A captive, among them is Spartan Helen: And if the stranger wishes to behold That wretched woman, Hecuba lies stretched Before the gate, full many are her tears, And her afflictions many: at the tomb Of stern Achilles her unhappy daughter Polyxena died wretchedly, her lord The royal Priam, and her sons are slain, That spotless virgin too whom from his shrine Apollo with prophetic gifts inspired, Cassandra, spurning every sacred rite, Did Agamemnon violently drag To his adulterous bed. But, O farewell, Thou city prosperous once; ye splendid towers, Had not Minerva’s self ordained your fall, Ye still on your firm basis might remain.

MINERVA, NEPTUNE.

MIN. May I accost the god who to my sire In blood is nearest, mighty, through high Heaven Revered, and lay aside our ancient hate?

NEP. ’Tis well, thou royal maid: an interview ’Twixt those of the same house, is to the soul An efficacious philtre.

MIN. I applaud Those who are temperate in their wrath, and bring Such arguments, O monarch, as affect Both you and me.

NEP. From all th’ assembled gods Some new commission bear’st thou, or from Jove, Or what celestial power?

MIN. From none of these. But in the cause of Troy, whose fields we tread, I to your aid betake me, and would join Our common strength.

NEP. Hast thou then laid aside Thy former hate, to pity Troy, consumed By the relentless flames?

MIN. First, thither turn Your views: to me will you unfold your counsels, And aid the schemes I would effect?

NEP. With joy: But I meanwhile would thy designs explore, Whether thou com’st on the behalf of Greece, Or Troy.

MIN. The Trojans, erst my foes, I wish To cheer, and to embitter the return Of the victorious Grecian host.

NEP. What means This change of temper? to excess thou hat’st And lov’st at random.

MIN. Know you not the insult Which hath been shown to me, and to my temple?

NEP. I know that Ajax violently tore Cassandra thence.

MIN. Yet by the Greeks unpunished He ’scaped, and e’en uncensured.

NEP. Though the Greeks O’erthrew Troy’s walls through thy auxiliar might——

MIN. And for this very cause will I conspire With you to punish them.

NEP. I am prepared For any enterprise thou wilt. What mean’st thou?

MIN. Their journey home I am resolved to make Most inauspicious.

NEP. While they yet remain Upon the shore, or ’midst the briny waves?

MIN. As to their homes from Ilion’s coast they sail. For Jove will send down rain, immoderate hail, And pitchy blasts of air: he promises To give me too his thunderbolts to smite The Greeks and fire their ships; but join your aid, Cause the Ægean deep with threefold waves, And ocean’s whirlpools horribly to rage, Fill with their courses the unfathomed caves Beneath Eubœa’s rocks, that Greece may learn My shrines to reverence, nor provoke the gods.

NEP. It shall be done: there need not many words To recommend thy suit. My storms shall rouse Th’ Ægean deep; the shores of Myconè, Scyros with Lemnos, all the Delian rocks, And steep Caphareus with full many a corse Will I o’erspread. But mount Olympus’ height, And from the Thunderer’s hand his flaming shafts Receiving, mark when the devoted host Of Greece weigh anchor. Frantic is the man Who dares to lay the peopled city waste, Temples with tombs profaning, and bereaves Of their inhabitants those sacred vaults Where sleep the dead; at length shall vengeance smite That hardened miscreant in his bold career.

[_Exeunt._

_The Scene opens, and discovers_ HECUBA _on a couch_.

HEC. Arise, thou wretch, and from the dust uplift Thy drooping head; though Ilion be no more, And thou a queen no longer, yet endure With patience Fortune’s change, and as the tide Or as capricious Fortune wills, direct Thy sails, nor turn against the dashing wave Life’s stubborn prow, for chance must guide thy voyage. Alas! for what but groans belongs to me Whose country, children, husband, are no more? Oh, mighty splendour of my sires, now pent In a small tomb, how art thou found a thing Of no account! What portion of my woes Shall I suppress, or what describe, how frame A plaintive strain? Now fixed on this hard couch, Wretch that I am, are my unwieldy limbs. Ah me! my head, my temples, ah, my side! Oh, how I wish to turn, and to stretch forth These joints! My tears shall never cease to flow, For like the Muse’s lyre, th’ affecting tale Of their calamities consoles the wretched. Ye prows of those swift barks which to the coast Of fated Ilion, from the Grecian ports Adventurous launched amid the purple wave, Accompanied by inauspicious pæans From pipes, and the shrill flute’s enlivening voice, While from the mast devolved the twisted cordage By Egypt first devised, ye to the bay Of Troy did follow Menelaus’ wife, Helen, abhorred adult’ress, who disgraced Castor her brother, and Eurotas’ stream: She murdered Priam, sire of fifty sons, And me the wretched Hecuba hath plunged Into this misery. Here, alas! I sit In my loathed prison, Agamemnon’s tent; From princely mansions dragged, an aged slave, My hoary tresses shorn, this head deformed With baldness. But, alas! ye hapless wives Of Ilion’s dauntless warriors, blooming maids, And brides affianced in an evil hour, Together let us weep, for Ilion’s smoke Ascends the skies. Like the maternal bird, Who wails her callow brood, I now commence A strain far different from what erst was heard When I on mighty Priam’s sceptred state Proudly relying, led the Phrygian dance Before the hallowed temples of the gods.

[_She rises, and comes forth from the tent._

SEMICHORUS, HECUBA.

SEMICHOR. O Hecuba, what mean these clamorous notes, These shrieks of woe? for from the vaulted roof Thy plaints re-echoing smite my distant ear, And fresh alarms seize every Phrygian dame Who in these tents enslaved deplores her fate.

HEC. E’en now, my daughter, at the Grecian fleet Th’ exulting sailors ply their oars.

SEMICHOR. Ah me! What mean they? will they instantly convey me Far from my ruined country?

HEC. By conjecture Alone am I acquainted with our doom.

SEMICHOR. Soon shall we hear this sentence: “From these doors Come forth ye Trojan captives, for the Greeks Are now preparing to return.”

HEC. O cease, My friends, nor from her chambers hither bring Cassandra, frantic prophetess, defiled By Argive ruffians, for the sight of her Would but increase my griefs.

SEMICHOR. Troy, wretched Troy, Thou art no more, they to whom fate ordains No longer on thy fostering soil to dwell Are wretched, both the living and the slain.

CHORUS, HECUBA.

CHOR. Trembling I come from Agamemnon’s tent, Of thee my royal mistress to inquire Whether the Greeks have doomed me to be slain, And whether yet along the poop arranged The mariners prepare to ply their oars.

HEC. Deprived of sleep through horror, O my daughter, I hither came: but on the road I see A Grecian herald.

CHOR. Tell me to what lord Am wretched I consigned.

HEC. E’en now the lot Is casting to decide your fate.

CHOR. What chief To Argos, or to Phthia, me shall bear, Or to some island, sorrowing, far from Troy?