ACT II
_Talthybius:_ Alas, 'tis thus the Greeks are ever doomed To lie impatient of the winds' delay, Whether on war or homeward journey bent. 165
_Chorus:_ Tell thou the cause of this the Greeks' delay. What god obstructs the homeward-leading paths?
_Talthybius:_ My soul doth quake, and all my limbs with fear Do tremble. Scarce is credence given to tales That do transcend the truth. And yet I swear, With my own eyes I saw what I relate. Now with his level rays the morning sun 170 Just grazed the summits of the hills, and day Had vanquished night; when suddenly the earth, 'Mid rumblings hidden deep and terrible, To her profoundest depths convulsive rocked. The tree-tops trembled, and the lofty groves Gave forth a thunderous sound of crashing boughs; While down from Ida's rent and rugged slopes 175 The loosened bowlders rolled. And not alone The earth did quake: behold, the swelling sea Perceived its own Achilles drawing near, And spread its waves abroad. Then did the ground Asunder yawn, revealing mighty caves, And gave a path from Erebus to earth. And then the high-heaped sepulcher was rent, 180 From which there sprang Achilles' mighty shade, In guise as when, in practice for thy fates, O Troy, he prostrate laid the Thracian arms, Or slew the son of Neptune, doomed to wear The swan's white plumes; or when, amidst the ranks In furious battle raging, he the streams 185 Did choke with corpses of the slain, and Xanthus Crept sluggishly along with bloody waves; Or when he stood as victor in his car, Plying the reins and dragging in the dust Great Hector's body and the Trojan state. So there he stood and filled the spreading shore 190 With wrathful words: "Go, get you gone, ye race Of weaklings, bear away the honors due My manes; loose your thankless ships, and sail Across my seas. By no slight offering Did ye aforetime stay Achilles' wrath; And now a greater shall ye pay. Behold, Polyxena, once pledged to me in life, 195 Must by the hand of Pyrrhus to my shade Be led, and with her blood my tomb bedew." So spake Achilles and the realms of day He left for night profound, reseeking Dis; And as he plunged within the depths of earth, The yawning chasm closed and left no trace. The sea lies tranquil, motionless; the wind Its boisterous threats abates, and where but now 200 The storm-tossed waters raged in angry mood, The gentle waves lap harmless on the shore; While from afar the band of Tritons sounds The marriage chorus of their kindred lord.
[_Exit._]
[_Enter_ Pyrrhus _and_ Agamemnon.]
_Pyrrhus:_ Now that you homeward fare, and on the sea Your joyful sails would spread, my noble sire Is quite forgot, though by his single hand Was mighty Troy o'erthrown; for, though his death 205 Some respite granted to the stricken town, She stood but as some sorely smitten tree, That sways uncertain, choosing where to fall. Though even now ye seek to make amends For your neglect, and haste to grant the thing He asks, 'tis but a tardy recompense. Long since, the other chieftains of the Greeks Have gained their just reward. What lesser prize Should his great valor claim? Or is it naught 210 That, though his mother bade him shun the war, And spend his life in long, inglorious ease, Surpassing even Pylian Nestor's years, He cast his mother's shamming garments off, Confessing him the hero that he was? When Telephus, in pride of royal power, 215 Forbade our progress through his kingdom's bounds, He stained with royal blood the untried hand That young Achilles raised. Yet once again He felt that selfsame hand in mercy laid Upon his wound to heal him of its smart. Then did Eëtion, smitten sore, behold His city taken and his realm o'erthrown; By equal fortune fell Lyrnessus' walls, 220 For safety perched upon a ridgy height, Whence came that captive maid, Briseïs fair; And Chrysa, too, lies low, the destined cause Of royal strife; and Tenedos, and the land Which on its spreading pastures feeds the flocks 225 Of Thracian shepherds, Scyros; Lesbos too, Upon whose rocky shore the sea in twain Is cleft; and Cilla, which Apollo loved. All these my father took, and eke the towns Whose walls Caÿcus with his vernal flood Doth wash against. This widespread overthrow Of tribes, this fearful and destructive scourge, That swept through many towns with whirlwind power-- 230 This had been glory and the height of fame For other chiefs; 'twas but an incident In great Achilles' journey to the war. So came my father and such wars he waged While but preparing war. And though I pass In silence all his other merits, still Would mighty Hector's death be praise enough. 235 My father conquered Troy; the lesser task Of pillage and destruction is your own. 'Tis pleasant thus to laud my noble sire And all his glorious deeds pass in review: Before his father's eyes did Hector lie, Of life despoiled; and Memnon, swarthy son Of bright Aurora, goddess of the dawn, For whose untimely death his mother's face Was sicklied o'er with grief, while day was veiled 240 In darkness. When the heaven-born Memnon fell, Achilles trembled at his victory; For in that fall he learned the bitter truth That even sons of goddesses may die. Then, 'mongst our latest foes, the Amazons, Fierce maidens, felt my father's deadly power. So, if thou rightly estimate his deeds, Thou ow'st Achilles all that he can ask, E'en though he seek from Argos or Mycenae 245 Some high-born maid. And dost thou hesitate And haggle now, inventing scruples new, And deem it barbarous to sacrifice This captive maid of Troy to Peleus' son? But yet for Helen's sake didst thou devote Thy daughter to the sacrificial knife. I make in this no new or strange request, But only urge a customary rite.
_Agamemnon:_ 'Tis the common fault of youth to have no check 250 On passion's force; while others feel alone The sweeping rush of this first fire of youth, His father's spirit urges Pyrrhus on. I once endured unmoved the blustering threats Of proud Achilles, swoll'n with power; and now, My patience is sufficient still to bear His son's abuse. Why do you seek to smirch 255 With cruel murder the illustrious shade Of that famed chief? 'Tis fitting first to learn Within what bounds the victor may command, The vanquished suffer. Never has for long Unbridled power been able to endure, But lasting sway the self-controlled enjoy. The higher fortune raises human hopes, 260 The more should fortune's favorite control His vaulting pride, and tremble as he views The changing fates of life, and fear the gods Who have uplifted him above his mates. By my own course of conquest have I learned That mighty kings can straightway come to naught. Should Troy o'erthrown exalt us overmuch? Behold, we stand today whence she has fallen. 265 I own that in the past too haughtily Have I my sway o'er fallen chieftains borne; But thought of fortune's gift has checked my pride, Since she unto another might have given These selfsame gifts. O fallen king of Troy, Thou mak'st me proud of conquest over thee, Thou mak'st me fear that I may share thy fate. 270 Why should I count the scepter anything But empty honor and a tinsel show? This scepter one short hour can take away, Without the aid, perchance, of countless ships And ten long years of war. The steps of fate Do not for all advance with pace so slow. 275 For me, I will confess ('tis with thy grace, O land of Greece, I speak) I have desired To see the pride and power of Troy brought low; But that her walls and homes should be o'erthrown In utter ruin have I never wished. But a wrathful foe, by greedy passion driven, And heated by the glow of victory, Within the shrouding darkness of the night, 280 Cannot be held in check. If any act Upon that fatal night unworthy seemed Or cruel, 'twas the deed of heedless wrath, And darkness which is ever fury's spur, And the victorious sword, whose lust for blood, When once in blood imbued, is limitless. Since Troy has lost her all, seek not to grasp 285 The last poor fragments that remain. Enough, And more has she endured of punishment. But that a maid of royal birth should fall An offering upon Achilles' tomb, Bedewing his harsh ashes with her blood, While that foul murder gains the honored name Of wedlock, I shall not permit. On me The blame of all will come; for he who sin 290 Forbids not when he can, commits the sin.
_Pyrrhus:_ Shall no reward Achilles' shade obtain?
_Agamemnon:_ Yea, truly; all the Greeks shall sing his praise, And unknown lands shall hear his mighty name. But if his shade demand a sacrifice 295 Of out-poured blood, go take our richest flocks, And shed their blood upon thy father's tomb; But let no mother's tears pollute the rite. What barbarous custom this, that living man Should to the dead be slain in sacrifice? Then spare thy father's name the hate and scorn Which by such cruel worship it must gain. 300
_Pyrrhus:_ Thou, swoll'n with pride so long as happy fate Uplifts thy soul, but weak and spent with fear When fortune frowns; O hateful king of kings, Is now thy heart once more with sudden love Of this new maid inflamed? Shalt thou alone So often bear away my father's spoils? 305 By this right hand he shall receive his own. And if thou dost refuse, and keep the maid, A greater victim will I slay, and one More worthy Pyrrhus' gift; for all too long From royal slaughter hath my hand been free, And Priam asks an equal sacrifice. 310
_Agamemnon:_ Far be it from my wish to dim the praise That thou dost claim for this most glorious deed-- Old Priam slain by thy barbaric sword, Thy father's suppliant.
_Pyrrhus:_ I know full well My father's suppliants--and well I know His enemies. Yet royal Priam came, And made his plea before my father's face; 315 But thou, o'ercome with fear, not brave enough Thyself to make request, within thy tent Didst trembling hide, and thy desires consign To braver men, that they might plead for thee.
_Agamemnon:_ But, of a truth, no fear thy father felt; But while our Greece lay bleeding, and her ships With hostile fire were threatened, there he lay Supine and thoughtless of his warlike arms, 320 And idly strumming on his tuneful lyre.
_Pyrrhus:_ Then mighty Hector, scornful of thy arms, Yet felt such wholesome fear of that same lyre, That our Thessalian ships were left in peace.
_Agamemnon:_ An equal peace did Hector's father find When he betook him to Achilles' ships. 325
_Pyrrhus:_ 'Tis regal thus to spare a kingly life.
_Agamemnon:_ Why then didst thou a kingly life despoil?
_Pyrrhus:_ But mercy oft doth offer death for life.
_Agamemnon:_ Doth mercy now demand a maiden's blood? 330
_Pyrrhus:_ Canst _thou_ proclaim such sacrifice a sin?
_Agamemnon:_ A king must love his country more than child.
_Pyrrhus:_ No law the wretched captive's life doth spare.
_Agamemnon:_ What law forbids not, this let shame forbid.
_Pyrrhus:_ 'Tis victor's right to do whate'er he will. 335
_Agamemnon:_ Then should he will the least who most can do.
_Pyrrhus:_ Dost thou boast thus, from whose tyrannic reign Of ten long years but now the Greeks I freed?
_Agamemnon:_ Such airs from Scyros!
_Pyrrhus:_ Thence no brother's blood.
_Agamemnon:_ Hemmed by the sea!
_Pyrrhus:_ Yet that same sea is ours. 340 But as for Pelops' house, I know it well.
_Agamemnon:_ Thou base-born son of maiden's secret sin, And young Achilles, scarce of man's estate--
_Pyrrhus:_ Yea, that Achilles who, by right of birth, Claims equal sovereignty of triple realms: 345 His mother rules the sea, to Aeacus The shades submit, to mighty Jove the heavens.
_Agamemnon:_ Yet that Achilles lies by Paris slain!
_Pyrrhus:_ But by Apollo's aid, who aimed the dart; For no god dared to meet him face to face.
_Agamemnon:_ I could have checked thy words, and curbed thy tongue, Too bold in evil speech; but this my sword 350 Knows how to spare. But rather let them call The prophet Calchas, who the will of heaven Can tell. If fate demands the maid, I yield. [_Enter_ Calchas.] Thou who from bonds didst loose the Grecian ships, And bring to end the slow delays of war; Who by thy mystic art canst open heaven, And read with vision clear the awful truths Which sacrificial viscera proclaim; To whom the thunder's roll, the long, bright trail 355 Of stars that flash across the sky, reveal The hidden things of fate; whose every word Is uttered at a heavy cost to me: What is the will of heaven, O Calchas; speak, And rule us with the mastery of fate.
_Calchas:_ The Greeks must pay th' accustomed price to death, 360 Ere on the homeward seas they take their way. The maiden must be slaughtered on the tomb Of great Achilles. Thus the rite perform: As Grecian maidens are in marriage led By other hands unto the bridegroom's home, So Pyrrhus to his father's shade must lead His promised bride. 365 But not this cause alone Delays our ships: a nobler blood than thine, Polyxena, is due unto the fates; For from yon lofty tower must Hector's son, Astyanax, be hurled to certain death. Then shall our vessels hasten to the sea, And fill the waters with their thousand sails. 370
[_Exeunt._]
_Chorus:_ When in the tomb the dead is laid, When the last rites of love are paid; When eyes no more behold the light, Closed in the sleep of endless night; Survives there aught, can we believe? Or does an idle tale deceive? 375 What boots it, then, to yield the breath A willing sacrifice to death, If still we gain no dreamless peace, And find from living no release? Say, do we, dying, end all pain? Does no least part of us remain? When from this perishable clay The flitting breath has sped away; Does then the soul that dissolution share And vanish into elemental air? 380 Whate'er the morning sunbeam knows, Whate'er his setting rays disclose; Whate'er is bathed by Ocean wide, In ebbing or in flowing tide: Time all shall snatch with hungry greed, With mythic Pegasean speed. 385 Swift is the course of stars in flight, Swiftly the moon repairs her light; Swiftly the changing seasons go, While time speeds on with endless flow: But than all these, with speed more swift, Toward fated nothingness we drift. 390 For when within the tomb we're laid, No soul remains, no hov'ring shade. Like curling smoke, like clouds before the blast, This animating spirit soon has passed. 395 Since naught remains, and death is naught But life's last goal, so swiftly sought; Let those who cling to life abate Their fond desires, and yield to fate; And those who fear death's fabled gloom, Bury their cares within the tomb. Soon shall grim time and yawning night In their vast depths engulf us quite; 400 Impartial death demands the whole-- The body slays nor spares the soul. Dark Taenara and Pluto fell, And Cerberus, grim guard of hell-- All these but empty rumors seem, 405 The pictures of a troubled dream. Where then will the departed spirit dwell? Let those who never came to being tell.