Part 8

THE. This mischief Springs from no god except the wife of Jove. Well dost thou judge, in saying that ’tis easier To give thee wholesome counsel, than endure Such agonies. But no man ’scapes unwounded By fortune, and no god; unless the songs Of ancient bards mislead. Have not the gods Among themselves formed lawless marriages? Have they not bound in ignominious chains Their fathers, to obtain a throne? In heaven Yet dwell they, and bear up beneath the load Of all their crimes. But what canst thou allege, If thou, frail mortal as thou art, those ills Immoderately bewail’st to which the gods Without reluctance yield? from Thebes retire, Since thus the laws ordain; and follow me To Pallas’ city: when thy hands are there Cleansed from pollution, I to thee will give A palace, and with thee divide my wealth. The presents which the citizens to me Appropriated, when twice seven blooming victims I by the slaughter of the Cretan bull Redeemed, on thee will I bestow. For portions Of land are through the realm to me assigned: These, while thou liv’st henceforth shall by thy name Be called: but after death, when to the shades Of Pluto thou descend’st, with sacrifice And with the sculptured tomb, shall Athens grace Thy memory. For her citizens have gained This fairest wreath from every Grecian state, By yielding succour to the virtuous man Their glories are augmented: and to thee Will I repay with gratitude the kindness Which thou deserv’st for saving me; for thou Hast need of friends at present: but no friend Is wanted when the gods confer renown; For, if he wills, Jove’s aid is all-sufficient.

HER. You hold a language foreign to my griefs. But I suppose not that the gods delight In lawless nuptials, that their hands are bound With galling chains, nor did I e’er believe, Nor can I be convinced, that one bears rule Over another. For a deity If he be truly such, can stand in need Of no support. But by some lying bard Those miserable fables were devised. Although I am most wretched, yet I thought I might be charged with cowardice for leaving These realms of light. For he who bears not up ’Gainst adverse fortune, never can withstand The weapon of his foe. I am resolved To wait for death with firmness: to your city Meantime will I retreat, and am most grateful For your unnumbered gifts. Unnumbered labours Have I been erst acquainted with; from none Did I e’er shrink, these eyes did never stream With tears, nor thought I that I e’er should come To such a pitch of meanness as to weep: But now, it seems, must Fortune be obeyed. I am content. Thou, O my aged sire, Behold’st my exile, thou in me behold’st The murderer of my children: to the tomb Consign their corses with funereal pomp, And o’er them shed the tributary tear: For me the laws allow not to perform This office. Let their mother, e’en in death, Clasp to her breast, and in her arms sustain, Our wretched offspring, whom in evil hour I slew reluctant. But when thou with earth Hast covered them, thy residence still keep Here in this city, miserably indeed, Yet on thy soul lay this constraint, to bear With me the woes which I most deeply feel. The very sire, ye children, who begot, Murdered you; no advantage ye derive From what this arm by all my labours gained, And from your father’s triumphs no renown. Have not I slain thee too who didst preserve My bed inviolate, and o’er my house Long watch with patient care? Ah me! my wife, My sons: but how much more to be lamented Am I myself, from them for ever torn? Ye melancholy joys of kisses lavished On their remains, and ye my loathed companions, The weapons which I still retain, but doubt Whether to keep or dash them to the ground; For they, while at my side they hang, will seem To utter these reproachful words: “With us Thy consort and thy children hast thou slain, Yet thou the very instruments preserv’st Which were their murderers.” After such a charge Can I still bear them? what can I allege? But stripping off those arms with which through Greece I have achieved full many glorious deeds, Shall I expose myself to those who hate me, And die ignobly? I must not abandon But keep them still, though sorrowing. Aid me, Theseus, In this one enterprise; to Argos go And for your friend obtain the great reward Promised for dragging from the shades of hell That execrable hound: lest if by you Deserted, I through grief for my slain children Should come to some calamitous end. Thou realm Of Cadmus, and ye citizens of Thebes, With tresses shorn, in concert weep; the tomb Of my slain children visit, there bewail, In one funereal dirge, the dead, and me; For smitten with the same dire scourge of fate By Juno, we all perish.

THE. Hapless man, Arise; enough of tears.

HER. I cannot rise, These limbs are now grown stiff.

THE. Calamity Subdues the valiant.

HER. Would I were a stone, Insensible to sufferings!

THE. Cease these plaints; And to the friend who comes to serve thee, give Thy hand.

HER. But let me not wipe off the blood Upon your garments.

THE. Wipe it off, nor scruple, For I object not.

HER. Of my sons bereft, In you the likeness of a son I find.

THE. Fling round my neck thine arm: I’ll lead the way.

HER. A pair of friends: though one of us be wretched. Such, O my aged father, is the man We ought to make a friend.

THE. His native realm Produces an illustrious progeny.

HER. Turn me around, that I may see my sons.

THE. Hoping such philtre may thy griefs appease.

HER. This earnestly I wish for, and would clasp My father to this bosom.

AMP. Here, lo, here! For what my son desires, to me is grateful.

THE. Of all the labours thou didst erst achieve, Hast thou thus lost the memory?

HER. All those ills Were less severe than what I now experience.

THE. Should any one behold thee grown unmanly, He could not praise thee.

HER. Though to you I seem Degraded to an abject life, I trust That I my former courage shall resume.

THE. Where now is the illustrious Hercules?

HER. What had you been, if still you in the shades Had miserably dwelt?

THE. Then sunk my courage Beneath the meanest of the human race.

HER. Why then persist in saying that my woes Have quite subdued me?

THE. Onward!

HER. Good old man, Farewell.

AMP. Farewell too, O my son.

HER. My children Inter as I directed.

AMP. O, my son, But who will bury me?

HER. I.

AMP. When will you Come hither?

HER. After thou hast for my children Performed that pious office.

AMP. How?

HER. I’ll fetch thee From Thebes to Athens.—Bear into the palace My children’s corses which pollute the ground. But as for me, who have disgraced and plunged My house in ruin, I will follow Theseus, Towed like a battered skiff. Whoe’er prefers Wealth or dominion to a steadfast friend, Judges amiss.

CHOR. Most wretched, drowned in tears, Reft of our great protector, we depart.

THE CHILDREN OF HERCULES.

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

IOLAUS. COPREUS. CHORUS OF ATHENIAN OLD MEN. DEMOPHOON. MACARIA. ALCMENA. MESSENGER. EURYSTHEUS.

SCENE.—BEFORE THE ALTAR OF JUPITER, IN THE FORUM AT MARATHON, A CITY IN THE ATHENIAN DOMINIONS.

IOLAUS.

Long have I held this sentiment: the just Are born the streams of bounty to diffuse On all around them; while the man whose soul Is warped by interest, useless in the State, Untractable and harsh to every friend, Lives only for himself; in words alone This doctrine I imbibed not. Through a sense Of virtuous shame and reverence for my kindred When I in peace at Argos might have dwelt, I singly shared the toils of Hercules, While he on earth remained; but now he dwells In heaven, I guard his children, though protection Be what I need myself. For when their sire Forsook this nether world, Eurystheus strove Immediately to slay us; but I ’scaped From that oppressor’s fangs, and though to me Lost is my country, I have saved my life. But we poor vagabonds, from city fly To some fresh city, ever forced to change Our dwelling; for Eurystheus deems it meet To add this wrong to former wrongs, he sends His heralds wheresoe’er he hears we settle, And claims and drives us forth from every land; No slight resentment from the Argive realm Against our friends denouncing, he reminds them Of his own prosperous fortunes; when they see My weakness, and these little ones bereft Of their great father, to superior might They crouch, and force the suppliant to depart. But with the exiled race of Hercules A voluntary exile, I partake Their evil fortunes, steadfastly resolved Not to betray them; by malignant tongues It never shall be said, “Oh, mark these orphans! Since their sire’s death their kinsman Iolaus Protects them not.” But, exiled from all Greece, On reaching Marathon and the domain Subject to the same rulers, here we sit Before the altars of the gods, and sue For their assistance. In this region dwell Two sons of Theseus, I am told, by lot Who portion out this realm, they from Pandion Descend, and to these children are allied. We therefore undertook our present journey To the Athenian realm; two aged guides Conduct the hapless wanderers; my attention Is to the boys devoted; but Alcmena, Entering the adjacent temple, in her arms Tenderly clasps the female progeny Of her departed son. Amid the crowd We fear to introduce these tender virgins, Or place them at the altars of the gods. But Hyllus and his brothers, more mature In years, inquire in what far distant land A fortress for our future residence We yet can find, if we from these domains By force should be expelled. My sons, come hither, Cling to this garment; for to us I see Eurystheus’ herald coming, by whose hate, We wanderers, banished from each friendly realm, Are still pursued. Thou, execrable miscreant, Perish thyself, and perish he who sent thee: For to the noble father of these children Oft hath that tongue enjoined severest toils.

COPREUS, IOLAUS.

COP. What, think’st thou unmolested to enjoy This pleasant seat, and have thy vagrant steps Entered at length a city prompt to fight Thy battles? for the man who will prefer Thy feeble arm to that of great Eurystheus, Exists not. Hence! why in these useless toils Dost thou persist? thou must return to Argos Where they have doomed thee to be stoned.

IOL. Not thus: For in this altar shall I find protection, And this free country on whose soil we tread.

COP. Wilt thou constrain me then to have recourse To violence?

IOL. With forceful hand, nor me Nor these poor children shalt thou hence expel.

COP. Ere long shalt thou perceive that thou hast uttered Erroneous prophesies.

IOL. This ne’er shall be Long as I live.

COP. Depart, for I will seize them ’Gainst thy consent, and to Eurystheus’ power Surrender up, for they to him belong.

IOL. Aid me, ye ancient citizens of Athens, For we, though suppliants, forcibly are torn E’en from Jove’s public altar, and the wreaths Twined round our sacred branches are polluted; Shame to your city, insult to the gods.

CHORUS, IOLAUS, COPREUS.

CHOR. What clamorous voices from yon altars rise? What mischiefs are impending?

IOL. See a man Burdened with age, wretch that I am! lie prostrate.

CHOR. Who threw thee down? what execrable hand——

IOL. ’Tis he, O stranger, he who to your gods Yielding no reverence, strives with impious force E’en now, to drag me from this hallowed seat Before Jove’s altar.

CHOR. He! But from what land Cam’st thou, old man, to this confederate state Formed of four cities? From the distant coast Of steep Eubœa did ye ply your oars?

IOL. The life I lead, O stranger, is not that Of vagrant islanders; but in your realm From famed Mycene’s bulwarks I arrive.

CHOR. Among thy countrymen, old man, what name Thou bear’st, inform me.

IOL. Ye perchance knew somewhat Of Iolaus, great Alcides’ comrade, A name not quite unnoticed by renown.

CHOR. I formerly have heard of him: but say Who is the father of that infant race, Whom with thy arm thou guid’st?

IOL. These are the sons Of Hercules, O strangers, they, to you, And to your city, humble suppliants come.

CHOR. On what account, inform me; to demand An audience of the state?

IOL. That to their foes They may not be surrendered up, nor torn Forcibly from the altars of your gods, And carried back to Argos.

COP. But thy lords Who bear rule over thee, and hither trace Thy steps, will ne’er be satisfied with this.

CHOR. O stranger, ’tis our duty to revere The suppliants of the gods: with forceful hand Shall no man drag thee from this holy spot, This seat of the immortal powers; dread justice Shall guard thee from the wrong.

COP. Out of your land The vagrant subjects of Eurystheus drive, As I admonish; and this hand shall use No violence.

CHOR. How impious is that city Which disregards the helpless stranger’s prayer!

COP. ’Twere best to interfere not in these broils, And to adopt some more expedient counsels.

CHOR. You, therefore, to the monarch of this realm Should have declared your errand, ere thus far You had proceeded: but with brutal force These strangers from the altars of the gods Presume not to convey, and to this land Of freedom yield due reverence.

COP. But what king Rules this domain and city?

CHOR. Theseus’ son, Renowned Demophoon.

COP. Better I with him This contest could decide: for all I yet Have spoken, is but a mere waste of words.

CHOR. Behold, he hither comes in haste, and with him, To hear this cause, his brother Acamas.

DEMOPHOON, IOLAUS, COPREUS, CHORUS.

DEM. Since by thy speed, old man, thou hast outstripped Thy juniors, and already reached the shrine Of Jove, inform me what event hath caused This multitude t’ assemble.

CHOR. There the sons Of Hercules in suppliant posture sit, And with their wreaths, as you behold, O king, Adorn the altar; that is Iolaus, The faithful comrade of their valiant sire.

DEM. How needed their distress these clamorous shrieks?

CHOR. [_turning towards_ COPREUS.] He raised the uproar, when by force he strove To bear them hence, and on his knees, to earth Threw the old man, till I for pity wept.

DEM. Although he in the habit which he wears Adopts the mode of Greece, such deeds as these Speak the barbarian. But without delay On thee it is incumbent now to tell me The country whence thou cam’st.

COP. I am an Argive; Thus far to solve your question: but from whence I come, and on what errand, will I add; Mycene’s king, Eurystheus, sends me hither To fetch these vagrants home: yet I, O stranger, Will with abundant justice, in my actions, As well as words, proceed; myself an Argive, I bear away these Argives, I but seize The fugitives who from my native land Escaped, when by the laws which there prevail They were ordained to bleed. We have a right, Because we are the rulers of the city, To execute the sentence we enact ’Gainst our own subjects. To the sacred hearths Of many other states when they repaired, We urged the self-same reasons, and none ventured To be the authors of their own destruction. But haply they in you may have perceived A foolish tenderness, and hither come, Desperate themselves, you also to involve In the same perils, whether they succeed Or fail in the emprise: for they no hope Can cherish, while you yet retain your reason, That you alone, in all the wide extent Of Greece, whose various regions they have traversed, Should pity those calamities which rise But from their own imprudence. Now compare Th’ alternative proposed; by sheltering them In these dominions, or allowing us To bear them hence, what gain may you expect? Side but with us, these benefits are yours: Eurystheus’ self, and Argos’ numerous troops, Will aid this city with their utmost might; But if, by their seducing language moved, Ye harbour groundless pity for their woes, Arms must decide the strife. Nor vainly think We will desist till we have fully tried The temper of our swords. But what excuse Have ye to plead? Of what domains bereft Are ye provoked to wage a desperate war With the Tirynthian Argives? What allies Will aid you? What pretext can ye allege To claim funereal honours for the slain? The curses of your city will await Such conduct; for the sake of that old man, Whom I may justly call a tomb, a shadow, And those unfriended children, should you step Into the yawning gulf. Suppose the best Which possibly can happen, that a prospect Of future good hence rises; distant hopes Fall short of present gain. In riper years Ill can these youths be qualified to fight Against the Argive host (if this elate Your soul with hope), and ere that wished event There is a length of intermediate time In which ye may be ruined; but comply With my advice; on me no gift bestow, Let me but take what to ourselves belongs, Mycene shall be yours. But oh, forbear To act as ye are wont, nor form a league With those of no account, when mightier friends May be procured.

DEM. Who can decide a cause Or ascertain its merits till he hear Both sides distinctly?

IOL. In your land, O king, This great advantage, freedom of reply To the malignant charge against me urged, I find, and no man, as from other cities, Shall drive me hence. But we have nothing left For which it now behoves us to contend With him, nor aught, since that decree hath passed, To do with Argos; from our native land We are cast forth. In this distressful state, How can he drag us back again with justice As subjects of Mycene, to that realm Which hath already banished us? We there Are only foreigners. But why should he Whom Argos dooms to exile, by all Greece Be also exiled? Not by Athens sure; For ne’er will Athens from its blest domains Expel the race of Hercules, appalled By Argos’ menaced wrath. For neither Trachis, Nor is that city of Achaia here, Whence thou by boasting of the might of Argos In words like those which thou hast uttered now, These suppliants didst unjustly drive away Though seated at the altars. If thy threats Here too prevail, no longer shall we find Freedom, not e’en in Athens; but I know Full well the generous temper of its sons, And rather would they die. For to the brave Shame is a load which renders life most hateful. Enough of Athens—for immoderate praise Becomes invidious; I remember too How oft I have been heretofore distressed By overstrained encomiums. But on you How greatly ’tis incumbent to protect These children will I show, since o’er this land You rule; for Pittheus was the son of Pelops, From Pittheus Æthra sprung, from Æthra Theseus Your father; from your ancestors to those Of your unhappy suppliants I proceed; Alcides was the son of thundering Jove And of Alcmena; from Lysidice, Daughter of Pelops, did Alcmena spring, One common grandsire gave your grandame birth, And theirs; so near in blood are you to them; But, O Demophoon, what beyond the ties Of family you to these children owe Will I inform you, and relate how erst With Theseus in one bark I sailed, and bore Their father’s shield, when we that belt, the cause Of dreadful slaughter, sought; and from the caves Of Pluto, Hercules led back your sire. This truth all Greece attests. They in return From you implore this boon, that to their foes They may not be surrendered up, nor torn By force from these your tutelary gods, And banished from this realm. For to yourself ’Twere infamous and baneful to your city Should suppliants, exiles, sprung from ancestors The same with yours (ah, miserable me! Behold, behold them!) with a forceful arm Be dragged away. But to your hands, and beard, Lifting these hallowed branches, I entreat you Slight not Alcides’ children, undertake Their cause; and, oh, to them become a kinsman, Become a friend, a father, brother, lord, For better were it to admit these claims, Than suffer them to fall beneath the rage Of Argive tyrants.

CHOR. I with pity heard Their woes, O king, but now I clearly see How noble birth to adverse fortune yields; For though they spring from an illustrious sire, Yet meet they with afflictions they deserve not.

DEM. Three powerful motives urge me, while I view The misery which attends you, not to spurn These strangers; first dread Jove, before whose altars You with these children sit; next kindred ties, And services performed in ancient days, Give them a claim to such relief from me As from their godlike father mine obtained; And last of all that infamy which most I ought to loathe; for if I should permit A foreigner this altar to despoil, I in a land of freedom shall no longer Appear to dwell, but to surrender up, Through fear, the suppliants to their Argive lords, In this extreme of danger. Would to heaven You had arrived with happier auspices; But tremble not lest any brutal hand Should from this hallowed altar force away You and the children. Therefore go thou back To Argos, and this message to Eurystheus Deliver; tell him too if there be aught Which ’gainst our guests he can allege, the laws Are open; but thou shalt not drag them hence.

COP. Not if I prove that it is just, and bring Prevailing reasons?

DEM. How can it be just To drive away the suppliant?

COP. Hence no shame Shall light on me, but ruin on your head.

DEM. Should I permit thee to convey them hence In me ’twere base indeed.

COP. Let them be banished From your domains, and I elsewhere will seize them.

DEM. Thou fool, who deem’st thyself more wise than Jove!

COP. All villains may, it seems, take refuge here.

DEM. This altar of the gods, to all affords A sure asylum.