ACT V

[_Enter_ Philoctetes.]

_Nurse:_ Speak out, good youth, and tell the end, I pray, Of Hercules. How did he meet his death?

_Philoctetes:_ More gladly than another meets his life.

_Nurse:_ What? Did he then rejoice him in the fire?

_Philoctetes:_ He showed that burning flames were naught to him. 1610 What is there in the world which Hercules Has left unconquered? He has vanquished all.

_Nurse:_ What chance for glory on the funeral pyre?

_Philoctetes:_ One evil thing remained upon the earth Which he had not o'ercome--the power of fire. 1615 But this has now been added to the beasts, And fire is one of great Alcides' toils.

_Nurse:_ But tell us in what way he conquered fire.

_Philoctetes:_ When all his sorrowing friends began to fell The trees on Oeta's slopes, beneath one hand The beech-tree lost its foliage and lay, Its mighty trunk prone on the ground. One hand With deadly stroke attacked the towering pine, 1620 Which lifted to the stars its threatening top, And called it from the clouds. In act to fall, It shook its rocky crag, and with a crash Whelmed all the lesser forest in its fall. Within the forest was a certain oak, Wide-spreading, vast, like that Chaonian tree Of prophecy, whose shade shuts out the sun, Embracing all the grove[43] within its arms. 1625 By many a blow beset, it groans at first In threatening wise, and all the wedges breaks; The smiting axe bounds back, its edges dulled, Too soft for such a task. At length the tree, Long wavering, falls with widespread ruin down. Straightway the place admits the sun's bright rays; 1630 The birds, their tree o'erthrown, fly twittering round, And seek their vanished homes on wearied wing. Now every tree resounds; even the oaks Feel in their sacred sides the piercing steel, Nor does its ancient sanctity protect 1635 The grove. The wood into a pile is heaped; Its logs alternate rising high aloft, Make all too small a pyre for Hercules: The pine inflammable, tough-fibered oak, The ilex' shorter trunks. But poplar trees, 1640 Whose foliage adorned Alcides' brow, Fill up the space and make the pyre complete. But he, like some great lion in the woods Of Libya lying, roaring out his pain, Is borne along--but who would e'er believe That he was hurrying to his funeral pyre? His gaze was fixed upon the stars of heaven, 1645 Not fires of earth, when to the mount he came And with his eyes surveyed the mighty pyre. The great beams groaned and broke beneath his weight. Now he demands his bow. "Take this," he said, "O son of Poeas, take this as the gift And pledge of love from Hercules to thee. These deadly shafts the poisonous hydra felt; 1650 With these the vile Stymphalian birds lie low; And every other monster which I slew With distant aim. O noble youth, go on In victory, for never 'gainst thy foes Shalt thou send these in vain. Wouldst wish to bring Birds from the very clouds? Down shall they fall, And with them come thine arrows sure of prey. 1655 This bow shall never disappoint thy hand. Well has it learned to poise the feathered shaft And send it flying in unerring course. The shafts themselves as well, loosed from the string, Have never failed to find their destined mark. But do thou in return, my only prayer, Bring now the funeral torch and light the pyre. 1660 This club," he said, "which never hand but mine Has wielded, shall the flames consume with me. This weapon, only, shall to Hercules Belong. But this, too, thou shouldst have from me If thou couldst bear its weight. But let it serve To aid its master's pyre." Then he required 1665 The shaggy spoil of the dire Nemean beast To burn with him. The huge skin hid the pyre. Now all the gazing crowd begin to groan, And tears of woe to fall from every eye. His mother bares her breast in eager grief And smites her body stripped e'en to the loins 1670 For unrestrained lament; then all the gods And Jupiter himself she supplicates, While all the place re-echoes with her shrieks. "Thou dost disgrace the death of Hercules, O mother, check thy tears," Alcides said; "Within thy heart thy woman's grief confine. Why shouldst thou make this day a time of joy 1675 For Juno with thy tears? For she, be sure, Rejoices to behold her rival weep. Then this unworthy grief, my mother, check. It is not meet to abuse the breast that nursed, And the womb that bore Alcides." Thus he spake; Then with a dreadful cry, as when he led 1680 The awful dog throughout the towns of Greece, Returned triumphant o'er the shades of hell, Scorning the lord of death and death itself, So did he lay him down upon the pyre. What victor in his chariot ever shone With such triumphant joy? What tyrant king With such a countenance e'er uttered laws Unto his subject tribes? So deep his calm 1685 Of soul. All tears were dried, our sorrows shamed To silence, and we groaned no more to think That he must perish. E'en Alcmena's self, Whose sex is prone to mourn, now tearless stood, A worthy mother of her noble son. 1690

_Nurse:_ But did he, on the verge of death, no prayer To heaven breathe, no aid from Jove implore?

_Philoctetes:_ With peaceful soul he lay, and scanned the skies, As searching from what quarter of the heavens His sire would look on him, and thus he spake, 1695 With hands outstretched: "O father, whencesoe'er From heaven thou lookest down upon thy son-- He truly is my father for whose sake One day of old was swallowed up in night-- If both the bounds of Phoebus sing my praise, If Scythia, and all the sun-parched lands; 1700 If peace fills all the world; if cities groan Beneath no tyrant's hand, and no one stains With blood of guests his impious altar stones; If horrid crimes have ceased: then, take, I pray, My spirit to the skies. I have no fear Of death, nor do the gloomy realms of Dis 1705 Affright my soul; but Oh, I blush with shame To go, a naked shade, unto those gods Whom I myself aforetime overcame. Dispel the clouds and ope the gates of heaven, That all the gods may see Alcides burn. Though thou refuse me place among the stars, Thou shalt be forced to grant my prayer. Ah no: 1710 If grief can palliate my impious words, Forgive; spread wide the Stygian pools for me, And give me up to death. But first, O sire, Approve thy son. This day at least shall show That I am worthy of the skies. All deeds Which I have done before seem worthless now; 1715 This day shall prove me worthy, or condemn." When he had spoken thus he called for fire: "Come hither now, comrade of Hercules, With willing hand take up the funeral torch. Why dost thou tremble? Does thy timid hand Shrink from the deed as from an impious crime? Then give me back my quiver, coward, weak. 1720 Is that the hand which fain would bend my bow? Why does such pallor sit upon thy cheeks? Come, ply the torch with that same fortitude That thou dost see in me. Thy pattern take, Poor soul, from him who faces fiery death. But lo, my father calls me from the sky And opens wide the gates. O sire, I come!" 1725 And as he spake his face was glorified. Then did I with my trembling hand apply The blazing torch. But see, the flames leap back, And will not touch his limbs. But Hercules Pursues the fleeing fires. You would suppose That Caucasus or Pindus was ablaze, 1730 Or lofty Athos. Still no sound was heard Save only that the flames made loud lament. O stubborn heart! Had Typhon huge been placed Upon that pyre, or bold Enceladus, Who bore uprooted Ossa on his back, He would have groaned aloud in agony. 1735 But Hercules amidst the roaring flames Stood up, all charred and torn, with dauntless gaze, And said: "O mother, thus 'tis meet for thee Beside the pyre of Hercules to stand. Such mourning fits him well. Now dost thou seem In very truth Alcides' mother." There, 1740 'Midst scorching heat and roaring flames he stood, Unmoved, unshaken, showing naught of pain, Encouraging, advising, active still. His own brave spirit animated all. You would have thought him burning with desire To burn. The crowd looked on in speechless awe, And scarce believed the flames to be true fire, 1745 So calm and so majestic was his mien. Nor did he hasten to consume himself; But when he deemed that fortitude enough Was shown in death, from every hand he dragged The burning logs which with least ardor glowed, Piled them together in a mighty fire, 1750 And to the very center of the blaze The dauntless hero went. Awhile he stood And feasted on the flames his eager eyes. Then from his heavy beard leaped gleaming fire. But even when the flames assailed his face, And licked his head with their hot, fiery tongues, He did not close his eyes. 1755 But what is this? 'Tis sad Alcmena. With what signs of woe She makes her way, while in her breast she bears The pitiful remains of Hercules.

[_Enter_ Alcmena, _carrying in her bosom a funeral urn_.]

_Alcmena:_ Ye powers of heaven, I bid you fear the fates. [_Holding up the urn._] How small a space Alcides' ashes fill! To this small compass has that giant come! O shining sun, how great a man has gone 1760 To nothingness. Alas, this agéd breast Is large enough to be Alcides' tomb. Behold, his ashes scarce can fill the urn. How small his weight, upon whose shoulders once The dome of heaven lay, a burden light. Thou once didst go, my son, to Tartara, 1765 The farthest realms of death--and come again. Oh, when wilt thou a second time return From that infernal stream? I ask thee not To come again with spoil, nor bring again Imprisoned Theseus to the light of day; But only that thou come again--alone. Will all the world, heaped on thee, hold thy shade, 1770 Or Cerberus avail to keep thee back? When wilt thou batter down the gates of hell, Or to what portals shall thy mother go? Where is the highway that leads down to death? E'en now thou tak'st thy journey to the shades, Which thou wilt ne'er retrace. Why waste the hours In vain complaints? And why, O wretched life, 1775 Dost thou endure? Why dost thou cling to day? What Hercules can I again bring forth To Jupiter? What son so great as he Will ever call Alcmena mother? Oh, Too happy thou, my Theban husband, thou Who didst to gloomy Tartara descend While still Alcides lived; at thine approach 1780 The infernal deities were filled with fear Of thee, though only the reputed sire Of Hercules. What land will welcome me, Now old and hated by all cruel kings (If any cruel king remains alive)? Oh, woe is me! Whatever orphaned son Laments his sire will strive to seek revenge 1785 From me, and I shall be the prey of all. If any young Busiris or the son Of dread Antaeus terrifies the land, His booty shall I be. If anyone Would make reprisal for the Thracian steeds Of bloody Diomede, I shall be given 1790 To feed those cruel herds. Juno perchance Will be by passion pricked to seek revenge. Now all her anger will be turned on me; For, though her soul no longer is disturbed Because of Hercules, I still am left, Her hated rival. Ah, what punishment Will she inflict, in fear lest I bring forth 1795 Another son! The mighty Hercules Has made my womb a thing of terror still. Where shall Alcmena take herself? What place, What region of the universe will keep, What hiding-place conceal thy mother now, Since she is known through thee in every land? Shall I return unto my native shores, My wretched lares? There Eurystheus reigns. 1800 Shall I seek out my husband's city, Thebes, Ismenus' stream, and my own bridal bed Where once, beloved, I saw great Jupiter? Oh, happy, far too happy had I been, If I myself, like Semele, had felt The blasting presence of the thundering Jove! Oh, would that from my womb Alcides, too, 1805 Untimely had been torn! But now 'tis given, 'Tis given to see my son with mighty Jove Vying in praise; would that this might be given, To know from what fate he could rescue me. What people now will live remembering thee, O son? Ungrateful are they all alike. 1810 Cleonae shall I seek? the Arcadians, And the lands ennobled by thy mighty deeds? Here fell the serpent dire, here monstrous birds, Here fell the bloody king; and here, subdued By thy right hand, the lion, who in heaven Is given a place, whilst thou in earth remain'st. 1815 If earth is grateful, then let every race Defend Alcmena for thy sake. Shall I To Thracian peoples go, to Hebrus' tribes? For this land, too, was by thy mighty works Defended. Low the bloody stables lie, And low the kingdom; peace was granted it, 1820 What time the cruel king was overthrown. What land, indeed, has not gained peace through thee? Where shall I seek for thee a sepulcher, Unhappy, agéd woman that I am? Let all the world contend for these remains Collected from the pyre of Hercules. What race, what temples, or what nations ask For them? Who asks to have Alcmena's load? 1825 What sepulcher, O son, what tomb for thee Is great enough? Naught save the world itself; And lasting fame shall be thine epitaph. But why, O soul of mine, art thou in fear? Thou hast the ashes of thy Hercules. Embrace his bones, and they will give thee help, Will be thy sure defense. For e'en the shade 1830 Of great Alcides will make kings afraid.

_Philoctetes:_ O mother of illustrious Hercules, Restrain the tears thou deemest due thy son; For neither grieving tears nor mournful prayers Should follow him who by his noble worth Has forced his way to heaven in spite of fate. Alcides' deathless valor checks your tears. 1835

_Alcmena:_ Why should I bate my grief? For I have lost My savior,[44] yea, the savior of the land And sea,[45] and wheresoe'er the shining day From his resplendent car, in east or west, Looks down upon the earth. How many sons In him, O wretched mother, have I lost! 1840 Without a kingdom, I could kingdoms give. I only, 'midst all mothers of the earth, Had never need of prayer; naught from the gods I asked, while Hercules remained alive; For what could his devotion not bestow? What god in heaven could e'er deny me aught? 1845 In my own hands was answer of my prayer; For what great Jove denied, Alcides gave. What mortal mother e'er bore such a son? A mother once with grief was turned to stone, When, 'midst her brood of fourteen children slain, She stood, one mother, and bewailed them all. 1850 To many families like hers my son Could be compared. Till now for mother's grief A measure vast enough could not be found; But now will I, Alcmena, furnish it. Then cease, ye mothers, though persistent grief Till now has bidden you weep; though heavy woe 1855 Has turned your hearts to stone; and yield you all Unto my woes. Then come, ye wretched hands, And beat this agéd breast. But can it be That thou alone canst for so great a loss Lament, so old and worn, which[46] all the world 1860 Will presently attempt? Yet raise thy arms, However weary, to their mournful task. And to thy wailing summon all the earth, And so excite the envy of the gods.

[_Here follows_ Alcmena's _formal song of mourning, accompanied by the usual Oriental gestures of grief_.]

Bewail Alcmena's son, the seed Of Jove, for whose conception, long, 1865 Day perished and the lingering dawn Combined two nights in one. But now A greater than the day is dead. Ye nations, join in common grief, Whose cruel lords he bade descend To Stygian realms, and lay aside 1870 Their red swords reeking with the blood Of subject peoples. With your tears Repay his services; let earth, The whole round earth, with woe resound. Let sea-girt Crete bewail him, Crete, The Thunderer's belovéd land; 1875 Beat, beat your breasts, ye hundred tribes; Ye Cretans, Corybantes, now Clash Ida's cymbals; for 'tis meet To mourn him thus. Now, now lament His funeral; for low he lies, 1880 A mate, O Crete, for Jove himself. Bewail the death of Hercules, Ye sons of Arcady, whose race Is older than Diana's birth. Let your cries from high Parthenius And Nemea's halls resound afar; 1885 Let Maenala re-echo loud Your sounds of woe. The bristly boar Within your borders overthrown Demands lament for Hercules; And the monster of Stymphalus' pool, Whose spreading wings shut out the day, By great Alcides' arrows slain. 1890 Weep thou, Cleonae, weep and wail For him; for once the lion huge Which held your walls in terror, he, By his strong hand, o'ercame and slew. Ye Thracian matrons, beat your breasts, And let cold Hebrus resound to your beating. 1895 Lament for Alcides: no longer your children Are born for the stables; no longer your vitals Wild horses devour. O ye African lands, From Antaeus delivered, ye regions of Spain From Geryon saved, come, weep for your hero. 1900 Yea, all ye wretched nations, weep With me and smite your breasts in woe, And let your blows be heard afar, By eastern and by western shores. Ye dwellers in the whirling sky, Ye gods above, do ye, too, weep The fate of Hercules; for he 1905 Your heavens upon his shoulders bore, When Atlas, who was wont to bear The spangled skies, was eased awhile Of his vast load. Where now, O Jove, Is the promised palace of the sky, 1910 Those heavenly heights? Alcides dies And is entombed--the common lot. How often has he spared for thee The deadly thunderbolt of wrath! How seldom wast thou forced to hurl Thy fires! But hurl 'gainst me at least One shaft, and think me Semele. 1915 And now, O son, hast thou obtained The fields Elysian, the shore To which the voice of nature calls All nations? Or has gloomy Styx Hemmed in thy way in vengeful wrath Because of stolen Cerberus, And in the outer court of Dis 1920 Do jealous fates detain thee still? Oh what a rout among the shades And frightened manes must there be! Does Charon flee in his ghostly skiff? With flying hoofs do the Centaurs rush 1925 Through the wandering shades? Does the hydra seek In fear to plunge his snaky heads 'Neath the murky waves? Do all thy tasks Hold thee in fear? Ah me! Ah me! What foolish, raving madness this! I am mistaken quite. I know 1930 The shades and manes fear thee not; For neither does the tawny skin Stripped from the fierce Argolic beast Protect thy left with its streaming mane, Nor do its savage teeth surround 1935 Thy head. Thy quiver with its darts Thou hast given away, and a weaker hand Will aim thy bow. Alas, my son, Unarmed through the shades thou tak'st thy way; And with the shades shalt thou dwell for aye.

_The Voice of Hercules_ [_sounding from heaven_]: Why, since I hold the starry realms of sky, 1940 And have at last attained a heavenly seat, Dost thou by wailing bid me feel again Mortality? Give o'er, since valor now Has made for me a passage to the gods.

_Alcmena_ [_bewildered_]: Whence fall upon my startled ears These sounds? Whence come these thunder tones That bid me check my tears? Ah, now 1945 I know that chaos is o'ercome. From Styx art thou once more returned, O son? And hast thou once again Vanquished the grizzly power of death? Hast thou escaped the grim abode Of death once more, the gloomy pools Where sailed the dark infernal skiff? 1950 Does Acheron's wan stream allow To thee alone a backward way? And after death has greedy fate No hold upon thy dauntless soul? Perchance thy way to hell was barred By Pluto's self, who trembled sore For his own realm? Upon the pyre 1955 Of blazing woods I saw thee lie; While to the stars the raging flames Shot up. Thou wast indeed consumed. Then why does not the far abode Of death retain thy spirit still? 1960 What part of thee do trembling manes fear? Is e'en thy shade too terrible for Dis?

_Hercules_ [_his form now taking shape in the air above_]: The pools of grim Cocytus hold me not, Nor has the dusky skiff contained my ghost. Then cease thy mourning, mother; once for all Have I beheld the manes and the shades. 1965 The mortal part of me, the part thou gav'st, Was by the overmastering flames consumed; Thy part to fire, my father's part to heaven Has been consigned. Then cease thy loud laments, Which it were fitting to a worthless son To give. To inglorious souls such grief is due; 1970 For courage heavenward tends; base fear, to death. Hear now, as from the stars I prophesy: Soon shall the bloody king, Eurystheus, pay Fit penalty to thee for all his deeds; For over his proud head shalt thou be borne In thy triumphant car. But now 'tis meet That I return to the celestial realms; 1975 Alcides once again has conquered hell.

[_He vanishes from sight._]

_Alcmena:_ Stay but a little--ah, from my fond eyes He has departed, gone again to heaven. Am I deceived, and do my eyes but dream They saw my son? My soul for very grief Is faithless still. Not so, thou art a god, 1980 And holdest even now the immortal skies. I trust thy triumph still. But quickly now Unto the realm of Thebes will I repair, And proudly tell thy new-made godhead there.

[_Exit._]

_Chorus:_ Never is glorious manhood borne To Stygian shades. The brave live on, Nor over Lethe's silent stream 1985 Shall they by cruel fate be drawn. But when life's days are all consumed, And comes the final hour, for them A pathway to the gods is spread By glory. Be thou with us yet, O mighty conqueror of beasts, 1990 Subduer of the world. Oh, still Have thought unto this earth of ours. And if some strange, new monster come And fill the nations with his dread, Do thou with forkéd lightnings crush The beast; yea, hurl thy thunderbolts 1995 More mightily than Jove himself.

FOOTNOTES:

[43] Reading, _nemus_.

[44] Reading, _vindicem amisi_.

[45] Reading, _terrae atque pelagi_.

[46] Reading, _quod_.

THYESTES

THYESTES

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

THYESTES Brother of Atreus, in exile from his fatherland.

_The Ghost of Tantalus._ Doomed for his sins to come back to earth and inspire his house to greater sin.

_The Fury_ Who drives the ghost on to do his allotted part.

_Atreus_ King of Argos, grandson of Tantalus, who has quarreled with his brother and driven him into exile.

_An Attendant of Atreus._

_Three sons of Thyestes:_ Only one of whom, Tantalus, takes part in the dialogue.

_A Messenger._

_Chorus_ Citizens of Mycenae.

THE SCENE is laid partly without the city of Argos, and partly within the royal palace.

_Pelops, the son of Tantalus, had banished his sons for the murder of their half-brother, Crysippus, with a curse upon them, that they and their posterity might perish by each others' hands. Upon the death of Pelops, Atreus returned and took possession of his father's throne. Thyestes, also, claimed the throne, and sought to gain it by the foulest means. For he seduced his brother's wife, Aërope, and stole by her assistance the magical, gold-fleeced ram from Atreus' flocks, upon the possession of which the right to rule was said to rest. For this act he was banished by the king._

_But Atreus has long been meditating a more complete revenge upon his brother; and now in pretended friendship has recalled him from banishment, offering him a place beside himself upon the throne, that thus he may have Thyestes entirely in his power._