Part 9

COP. In a different light, This to Mycene’s rulers will appear.

DEM. Am not I then the monarch of this realm?

COP. Offer no wrong to them, if you are wise.

DEM. Do ye then suffer wrong when I refuse To violate the temples of the gods?

COP. I would not have you enter on a war Against the Argives.

DEM. Equally inclined Am I to peace, yet will not I yield up These suppliants.

COP. Hence am I resolved to drag Those who belong to me.

DEM. Thou then to Argos Shalt not with ease return.

COP. Soon will I make Th’ experiment and know.

DEM. If thou presume To touch them, thou immediately shalt rue it.

COP. I by the gods conjure you not to strike A herald.

DEM. Strike I will, unless that herald Learn to behave discreetly.

CHOR. Go. And you, O king, forbear to touch him.

COP. I retire: For weak in combat is a single arm. But I again shall hither come, and bring A host of Argives armed with brazen spears: Unnumbered warriors wait for my return. The king himself, Eurystheus, is their chief; He on the borders of Alcathous’ realm Waits for an answer. He in glittering mail, Soon as he hears your arrogant reply, To you, your subjects, this devoted realm, And all its wasted forests will appear, For we in vain at Argos should possess A band so numerous of heroic youths, If we chastised not your assuming pride.

[_Exit_ COPREUS.

DEM. Away, detested miscreant; for I fear not Thy Argos: and thou ne’er, by dragging hence These suppliants, shalt disgrace me: for this city As an appendage to the Argive realm I hold not, but its freedom will maintain.

CHOR. ’Tis time each sage precaution to exert, Ere to the confines of this land advance The troops of Argos: for Mycene’s wrath Is terrible in combat, and more fierce Than heretofore will they invade us now. For to exaggerate facts beyond the truth Is every herald’s custom. To his king, How many specious tales do you suppose Of the atrocious insults he endured, He will relate, and add how he the loss Of life endangered?

IOL. To the sons devolve No honours which exceed the being born Of an illustrious and heroic sire, And wedding into virtuous families. But on that man no praise will I bestow, Who by his lusts impelled, among the wicked A nuptial union forms; hence to his sons Disgrace, instead of pleasure, he bequeaths. For noble birth repels adversity Better than abject parentage. When sinking Under the utmost pressure of our woes, We find these friends and kinsmen, who alone Amid the populous extent of Greece Stand forth in our behalf. Ye generous youths, Now give them your right hands, and in return Take those of your protectors: O my sons, Draw near: we have made trial of our friends. If ye again behold your native walls, Possess the self-same mansions, and the honours Which your illustrious father erst enjoyed; These deem your saviours and your friends, nor wield Against their fostering land the hostile spear. On your remembrance let these benefits Be ever stamped, and hold this city dear; For they deserve your reverence, who from us Repel so great a nation, such a swarm Of fierce Pelasgian troops: and, though they see Our poverty and exile, have refused To yield us up, or banish from their realm. Both while I live, and after the cold grave Receives me at the destined hour, my friend, I with loud voice your merits will applaud, Approaching mighty Theseus, and my words Shall soothe your father’s ear when I recount With what humanity you have received us, And how protected the defenceless sons Of Hercules: by your illustrious birth Distinguished, you the glories of your sire Through Greece maintain: sprung from a noble lineage Yet are you one among that chosen few Who in no instance deviate from the virtues Of your great ancestry: although ’mid thousands Scarce is a single instance to be found Of those who emulate their father’s worth.

CHOR. This country, in a just and honest cause, Is ever prompt to succour the distressed. Hence in its friends’ behalf hath it sustained Unnumbered toils, and now another conflict I see impending.

DEM. Rightly hast thou spoken, And in such toils I feel a conscious pride. These benefits shall never be forgotten; But an assembly of the citizens I instantly will summon, and arrange A numerous squadron, to receive the onset Of fierce Mycene’s host, first sending spies To meet them, lest they unawares assail us. For the bold warrior, who without delay Goes forth to battle, keeps the foe aloof. I also will collect the seers, and slay The victims; but do you, old man, meanwhile Enter the palace with these children, leaving Jove’s altar: for my menial train are there, Who will with fond solicitude attend you, Although I am not present: but go in.

IOL. I will not leave the altar; on this seat We supplicants will remain, and pray to Jove, That prosperous fortunes may attend your city. But when you from this conflict are with glory Released, we to your palace will repair; Nor are the gods, who war on our behalf, O king, inferior to the gods of Argos. For o’er that city, Jove’s majestic consort, Juno, but here Minerva doth preside. This I maintain, that nought ensures success Beyond the aid of mightier deities, Nor will imperial Pallas be subdued.

[_Exit_ DEMOPHOON.

CHORUS.

ODE.

I.

Boast as thou wilt, and urge thy proud demand, This nation disregards thy ire, Thou stranger from the Argive land. Nor can thy sounding words control The steadfast purpose of my soul: Great Athens, by her lovely choir Distinguished, shall unstained preserve Her ancient glory, nor from virtue swerve; But thou, devoid of wisdom, dost obey The son of Sthenelus, the tyrant’s impious sway,

II.

Who com’st amidst an independent state, In nought inferior to the strength Of Argos, and with brutal hate Dar’st, though a foreigner, to seize The exiles, who our deities Implore, and in these realms at length From their distress obtain a shield: Thou e’en to sceptred monarchs will not yield, Yet no just plea thy subtle tongue hath found. How can such conduct warp the man whose judgment’s sound?

III.

Peace is the object of my dear delight: But thou, O tyrant, thou whose breast Well may I deem by frenzy is possest, If ’gainst this city thou exert thy might, Pant’st after trophies which thou ne’er shalt gain. Bearing targe and brazen lance Others with equal arms advance. O thou, who fondly seek’st th’ embattled plain, Shake not these turrets, spare the haunt Of every gentle grace.—Thou wretch, avaunt.

DEMOPHOON, IOLAUS, CHORUS.

IOL. Why com’st thou hither, O my son, with eyes Expressive of affliction? from the foe What recent information canst thou give? Do they delay their march, are they at hand, Or bring’st thou any tidings? for the threats That herald uttered sure will be accomplished. Blest in the favour of the gods, the tyrant Exults, I know, and arrogantly deems That he o’er Athens shall prevail; but Jove Chastises the presumptuous.

DEM. Argos comes With numerous squadrons, and its king Eurystheus, Myself beheld him. It behoves the man Who claims the merit of an able chief, Not to depend upon his spies alone To mark the foe’s approach. But with his host He hath not yet invaded these domains, But halting on yon mountain’s topmost ridge Observes (I from conjecture speak) the road By which he may lead forth his troops to battle, And where he in this realm with greatest safety May station them. Already have I made Each preparation to repel their onset. The city is in arms, the victims stand Before the altars, with their blood t’ appease The wrath of every god, and due lustrations Are sprinkled by the seers, that o’er our foes We may obtain a triumph, and preserve This country. Every prophet who expounds The oracles, convening, have I searched Into each sage response of ancient times, Or public or concealed, on which depends The welfare of the realm. In all beside Differ Heaven’s mandates: but one dread behest Runs through the several auspices, to Ceres They bid me sacrifice some blooming maid Who from a nobler sire derives her birth. Zeal have I shown abundant in your cause, But will not slay my daughter, nor constrain Any Athenian citizen to make Such an abhorred oblation: for the man Exists not, who is so devoid of reason, As willingly to yield his children up With his own hands. But what afflicts me most Is this: tumultuous crowds appear; some cry, ’Tis just that we the foreign suppliants aid, But others blame my folly. If no means Can be devised to satisfy them all, Soon will a storm of civil war arise. See thou to this, and think of some expedient, How ye and how this country may be saved, Without the citizens’ calumnious tongues My fame assailing. For I rule not here With boundless power, like a barbarian king; Let but my deeds be just, and in return Shall I experience justice.

CHOR. Will not Jove Suffer this city to exert its courage, And aid these hapless strangers as we wish?

IOL. Our situation, O my sons, resembles That of the mariners, who having ’scaped The storm’s relentless fury, when in sight Of land, are from the coast by adverse winds Driven back into the deep. Thus from this realm Just as we reach the shore, like shipwrecked men, Are we expelled. O inauspicious Hope, Why didst thou soothe me with ideal joy, Although it was ordained that thou should’st leave Thy favours incomplete? The king deserves At least to be excused, if he consent not To slay his subjects’ daughters; to this city My praise is due, and if the gods would place me In the same prosperous fortunes, from my soul Your benefits should never be effaced. But now, alas! no counsel can I give To you, my children. Whither shall we turn? What god have we neglected? To what land Have we not fled for shelter? We must perish, We shall be yielded up. My being doomed To die, I heed but for this cause alone, That by my death I shall afford delight To our perfidious foes. But, O my sons. For you I weep, I pity you, I pity Alcmena, aged mother of your sire, Oh, most unhappy in a life too long! I too am wretched, who unnumbered toils Have fruitlessly endured; it was ordained, It was ordained, alas! that we should fall Into the hands of our relentless foes, And meet a shameful, miserable death. Know you, what still remains for you to do, On my behalf? For all my hopes of saving The children are not vanished. In their stead Me to the Argive host surrender up, O king, and rush not into needless danger, Yet save these children. To retain a love Of life becomes me not; I yield it up Without regret. It is Eurystheus’ wish The rather to seize me, and to expose To infamy, because I was the comrade Of Hercules; for frenzy hath possessed His soul. The wise man, e’en in those he hates, Had rather find discretion than a want Of understanding; for a foe endued With sense will pay due reverence to the vanquished.

CHOR. Forbear, old man, thus hastily to blame This city; for to us though it might prove More advantageous, yet to our disgrace Would it redound, should we betray our guests.

DEM. A generous, but impracticable, scheme Is that thou hast proposed: for Argos’ king In quest of thee no squadrons hither leads. What profit to Eurystheus from the death Of one so old as thou art could arise? He wants to murder _these_: for to their foes The rising blossoms of a noble race, To whom the memory of their father’s wrongs Is present, must be dreadful: for all this He cannot but foresee. But if thou know Of any other counsel more expedient, Adopt it; for my soul hath been perplexed, Since that oracular response I heard Which fills me with unwelcome apprehensions.

[_Exit_ DEMOPHOON.

MACARIA, IOLAUS, CHORUS.

MAC. Deem not that I, O strangers, am too bold Because I from my chamber venture forth; This is my first request: for silence, joined With modesty and a domestic life, Is woman’s best accomplishment. I heard Your groans, O Iolaus, and advanced Though not appointed by our house to act As their ambassadress; in some degree Yet am I qualified for such an office, I have so great an interest in the weal Of these my brothers; on my own account I also wish to hear if any ill, Added to those you have already suffered, Torture your soul.

IOL. Not now for the first time, On thee, O daughter, most of all the children Of Hercules my praise can I bestow: But our ill-fated house, just as it seemed Emerging from its past disgraces, sinks Afresh into inextricable ruin. The king informs us, that the seers, whose voice Expounds the will of heaven, have signified No bull nor heifer, but some blooming maid Who from a noble sire derives her birth, Must be the victim, if we would redeem The city and ourselves from utter ruin; Here then are we perplexed: for his own children He says he will not sacrifice, nor those Of any of his subjects. Though to me Indeed he speaks not plainly, in some sort He intimates, that if we by no means Can extricate ourselves from these distresses, We must find out some other land to flee to, For he this realm would from destruction save.

MAC. May we indulge the hope of our escape Upon these terms?

IOL. These only: in all else With prosperous fortunes crowned.

MAC. No longer dread The spear of Argos, for myself, old man, Am ready, ere they doom me to be slain, And here stand forth a voluntary victim. For what could we allege on our behalf, If Athens condescend to undergo Dangers so great, while we who have imposed These toils on others, though within our reach Lie all the means of being saved, yet shrink From death? Not thus: we should provoke the laugh Of universal scorn, if, with loud groans, We suppliants, at the altars of the gods, Should take our seats, and prove devoid of courage, From that illustrious father though we spring. How can the virtuous reconcile such conduct? This to our glory would forsooth redound (O may it never happen!) when this city Is taken, should we fall into the hands Of our triumphant foes, when after all Some noble maid reluctant must be dragged To Pluto’s loathed embrace. But from these realms Cast forth, should I become an abject vagrant, Must I not blush when any one inquires, “Why came ye hither with your suppliant branches Too fond of life? Retreat from these domains, For we no aid to cowards will afford.” But if when these are dead, my single life Be saved, I cannot entertain a hope That I shall e’er be happy: through this motive Have caused full many to betray their friends. For who with a deserted maid will join, Or in the bonds of wedlock, or desire That I to him a race of sons should bear? I therefore hold it better far to die, Than to endure, without deserving them, Such foul indignities, as can seem light To her alone, who, from a noble race Like mine, descends not: to the scene of death Conduct, with garlands crown me, and prepare If ye think fit, th’ initiatory rites; Ye hence the foe shall conquer: for this soul Shrinks not with mean reluctance. I engage For these my brothers, and myself, to bleed A willing victim; for with ease detached From life, I have imbibed this best of lessons, To die with firmness in a glorious cause.

CHOR. Alas! what language shall I find, t’ express My admiration of the lofty speech I from this virgin hear, who for her brothers Resolves to die? What tongue can utter words More truly generous; or what man surpass Such deeds as these?

IOL. Thou art no spurious child, But from the godlike seed of Hercules, O daughter, dost indeed derive thy birth. Although thy words are such as cannot shame, Thy fate afflicts me. Yet will I propose What may with greater justice be performed. Together call the sisters of this maid, And to atone for the whole race, let her On whom th’ impartial lot shall fall, be slain; But without such decision ’tis not just That thou should’st die.

MAC. I will not die as chance The lot dispenses; for I hence should forfeit All merit: name not such a scheme, old man. If me ye will accept, and of my zeal Avail yourselves, I gladly yield up life Upon these terms, but stoop not to constraint.

IOL. The speech thou now hast uttered soars beyond What thou at first didst say, though that was noble: But thou thy former courage dost surpass By this fresh instance of exalted courage, The merit of thy former words, by words More meritorious. Daughter, I command not, Nor yet oppose thy death: for thou by dying Wilt serve thy brothers.

MAC. You in cautious terms Command me: fear not, lest on my account You should contract pollution: for to die Is my free choice. But follow me, old man, For in your arms would I expire: attend, And o’er my body cast the decent veil: To dreadful slaughter dauntless I go forth, Because I from that father spring, whose name With pride I utter.

IOL. At the hour of death I cannot stand beside thee.

MAC. Grant but this, That when I breathe my last, I may be tended By women, not by men.

IOL. It shall be thus, O miserable virgin: for in me ’Twere base, if I neglected any rite That decency enjoins, for many reasons; Because thy soul is great, because ’tis just, And of all women I have ever seen, Because thou art most wretched. But from these And from thy aged kinsman, if thou wish For aught, to me thy last behests address.

MAC. Adieu, my venerable friend, adieu! Instruct these boys in every branch of wisdom, And make them like yourself, they can attain No higher pitch; strive to protect them still, And for their sake that valued life prolong; Your children we, to you our nurture owe. Me you behold, mature for bridal joys, Dying to save them. But may ye, my band Of brothers who are here, be blest, and gain All those advantages, which to procure For you, the falchion shall transpierce my breast. Revere this good old man, revere Alcmena Your father’s aged mother, and these strangers. Should ye be ever rescued from your woes, Should gracious Heaven permit you to revisit Your native land, forget not to inter, With such magnificence as I deserve, Your benefactress, for I have not proved Deficient in attention to your welfare, But die to save our family. To me These monumental honours shall suffice Instead of children, or the virgin state, If there be aught amid the realms beneath, But ’tis my wish there may not: for if grief On us frail mortals also there attend, I know not whither any one can turn: For by the wise hath death been ever deemed The most effectual cure for every ill.

IOL. O thou, distinguished by thy lofty soul, Be well assured thy glory shall outshine That of all other women; both in life And death, shalt thou be honoured by thy friends. But ah, farewell! for with ill-omened words I tremble lest we should provoke the goddess, Dread Proserpine, to whom thou now art sacred.

[_Exit_ MACARIA.

My sons I perish: grief unnerves my frame; Support and place me in the hallowed seat: And, O my dearest children, o’er my face Extend this garment: for I am not pleased With what is done: yet, had not Heaven’s response Found this completion, we must all have died; For we must then have suffered greater ills Than these, which are already most severe.

CHORUS.

ODE.

In just proportion, as the gods ordain, Is bliss diffused through life’s short span, Or sorrow portioned out to man: No favoured house can still maintain From age to age its prosperous state, For swift are the vicissitudes of fate, Who now assails pride’s towering crest, Now makes the drooping exile blest. From destiny we cannot fly; No wisdom can her shafts repel; But he who vainly dares her power defy Compassed with endless toils shall dwell. Ask not from Heaven with impious prayer, Blessings it cannot grant to man, Nor waste in misery life’s short span O’erwhelmed by querulous despair. The nymph goes forth to meet a noble death, Her brothers and this land to save, And fame, with tributary breath Shall sound her praises in the grave. For dauntless virtue finds a way Through labours which her progress would delay. Such deeds as these, her father grace, And add fresh splendour to her race, But if with reverential awe thou shed Over the virtuous dead A tear of pity, in that tear I’ll join, Inspired with sentiments like thine.

SERVANT, IOLAUS, CHORUS.

SER. Ye children, hail! but where is Iolaus, That aged man; and hath your grandame left Her seat before the altar?

IOL. Here am I, If aught my presence can avail.

SER. On earth Why art thou stretched, what means that downcast look?

IOL. Domestic cares have harrowed up my soul.

SER. Lift up thy head, arise.

IOL. I am grown old, And all my strength is vanished.

SER. But to thee I bring most joyful tidings.

IOL. Who art thou? Where have I seen thee? I remember not.

SER. Hyllus’ attendant, canst thou not distinguish These features?

IOL. O my friend, art thou arrived To snatch me from despair?

SER. Most certainly: Moreover the intelligence I bring Will make thee happy.

IOL. Thee I call, come forth, Alcmena, mother of a noble son, And listen to these acceptable tidings: Full long thy soul, for those who now approach, Was torn with grief, lest they should ne’er return.

ALCMENA, SERVANT, IOLAUS, CHORUS.