There seemed a cry as of men
massacred!
Euripides - Electra
OLD MAN.
'Twas a feast, methought,
Of worship to the wild-wood nymphs he wrought.
ORESTES.
The watchers of men's birth? Is there a son
New born to him, or doth he pray for one
That cometh? [_Movement of_ ELECTRA.
OLD MAN.
More I know not; he had there
A wreathed ox, as for some weighty prayer.
ORESTES.
What force was with him? Not his serfs alone?
OLD MAN.
No Argive lord was there; none but his own
Household.
ORESTES.
Not any that aught know my face,
Or guess?
OLD MAN.
Thralls, thralls; who ne'er have seen thy face.
ORESTES.
Once I prevail, the thralls will welcome me!
OLD MAN.
The slaves' way, that; and no ill thing for thee!
ORESTES.
How can I once come near him?
OLD MAN.
Walk thy ways
Hard by, where he may see thee, ere he slays
His sacrifice.
ORESTES.
How? Is the road so nigh?
OLD MAN.
He cannot choose but see thee, passing by,
And bid thee stay to share the beast they kill.
ORESTES.
A bitter fellow-feaster, if God will!
OLD MAN.
And then . . . then swift be heart and brain, to see
God's chances!
ORESTES.
Aye. Well hast thou counselled me.
But . . . where is she?
OLD MAN.
In Argos now, I guess;
But goes to join her husband, ere the press
Of the feast.
ORESTES.
Why goeth not my mother straight
Forth at her husband's side?
OLD MAN.
She fain will wait
Until the gathered country-folk be gone.
ORESTES.
Enough! She knows what eyes are turned upon
Her passings in the land!
OLD MAN.
Aye, all men hate
The unholy woman.
ORESTES.
How then can I set
My snare for wife and husband in one breath?
ELECTRA (_coming forward_).
Hold! It is I must work our mother's death.
ORESTES.
If that be done, I think the other deed
Fortune will guide.
ELECTRA.
This man must help our need,
One friend alone for both.
OLD MAN.
He will, he will!
Speak on. What cunning hast thou found to fill
Thy purpose?
ELECTRA.
Get thee forth, Old Man, and quick
Tell Clytemnestra . . . tell her I lie sick,
New-mothered of a man-child.
OLD MAN.
Thou hast borne
A son! But when?
ELECTRA.
Let this be the tenth morn.
Till then a mother stays in sanctity,
Unseen.
OLD MAN.
And if I tell her, where shall be
The death in this?
ELECTRA.
That word let her but hear,
Straight she will seek me out!
OLD MAN.
The queen! What care
Hath she for thee, or pain of thine?
ELECTRA.
She will;
And weep my babe's low station!
OLD MAN.
Thou hast skill
To know her, child; say on.
ELECTRA.
But bring her here,
Here to my hand; the rest will come.
OLD MAN.
I swear,
Here at the gate she shall stand palpable!
ELECTRA.
The gate: the gate that leads to me and Hell.
OLD MAN.
Let me but see it, and I die content.
ELECTRA.
First, then, my brother: see his steps be bent. . .
OLD MAN.
Straight yonder, where Aegisthus makes his prayer!
ELECTRA.
Then seek my mother's presence, and declare
My news.
OLD MAN.
Thy very words, child, as tho' spoke
From thine own lips!
ELECTRA.
Brother, thine hour is struck.
Thou standest in the van of war this day.
ORESTES (_rousing himself_).
Aye, I am ready. . . . I will go my way,
If but some man will guide me.
OLD MAN.
Here am I,
To speed thee to the end, right thankfully.
ORESTES (_turning as he goes and raising his hands to heaven_).
Zeus of my sires, Zeus of the lost battle,
ELECTRA.
Have pity; have pity; we have earned it well!
OLD MAN.
Pity these twain, of thine own body sprung!
ELECTRA.
O Queen o'er Argive altars, Hera high,
ORESTES.
Grant us thy strength, if for the right we cry.
OLD MAN.
Strength to these twain, to right their father's wrong!
ELECTRA.
O Earth, deep Earth, to whom I yearn in vain,
ORESTES.
And deeper thou, O father darkly slain,
OLD MAN.
Thy children call, who love thee: hearken thou!
ORESTES.
Girt with thine own dead armies, wake, O wake!
ELECTRA.
With all that died at Ilion for thy sake . . .
OLD MAN.
And hate earth's dark defilers; help us now!
ELECTRA.
Dost hear us yet, O thou in deadly wrong,
Wronged by my mother?
OLD MAN.
Child, we stay too long.
He hears; be sure he hears!
ELECTRA.
And while he hears,
I speak this word for omen in his ears:
"Aegisthus dies, Aegisthus dies. ". . . Ah me,
My brother, should it strike not him, but thee,
This wrestling with dark death, behold, I too
Am dead that hour. Think of me as one true,
Not one that lives. I have a sword made keen
For this, and shall strike deep.
I will go in
And make all ready. If there come from thee
Good tidings, all my house for ecstasy
Shall cry; and if we hear that thou art dead,
Then comes the other end! --Lo, I have said.
ORESTES.
I know all, all.
ELECTRA.
Then be a man to-day!
[ORESTES _and the_ OLD MAN _depart_.
O Women, let your voices from this fray
Flash me a fiery signal, where I sit,
The sword across my knees, expecting it.
For never, though they kill me, shall they touch
My living limbs! --I know my way thus much.
[_She goes into the house_.
* * * * *
CHORUS.
When white-haired folk are met [_Strophe_.
In Argos about the fold,
A story lingereth yet,
A voice of the mountains old,
That tells of the Lamb of Gold:
A lamb from a mother mild,
But the gold of it curled and beat;
And Pan, who holdeth the keys of the wild,
Bore it to Atreus' feet:
His wild reed pipes he blew,
And the reeds were filled with peace,
And a joy of singing before him flew,
Over the fiery fleece:
And up on the based rock,
As a herald cries, cried he:
"Gather ye, gather, O Argive folk,
The King's Sign to see,
The sign of the blest of God,
For he that hath this, hath all! "
Therefore the dance of praise they trod
In the Atreid brethren's hall.
They opened before men's eyes [_Antistrophe_.
That which was hid before,
The chambers of sacrifice,
The dark of the golden door,
And fires on the altar floor.
And bright was every street,
And the voice of the Muses' tree.
The carven lotus, was lifted sweet;
When afar and suddenly,
Strange songs, and a voice that grew:
"Come to your king, ye folk!
Mine, mine, is the Golden Ewe! "
'Twas dark Thyestes spoke.
For, lo, when the world was still,
With his brother's bride he lay,
And won her to work his will,
And they stole the Lamb away!
Then forth to the folk strode he,
And called them about his fold,
And showed that Sign of the King to be,
The fleece and the horns of gold.
Then, then, the world was changed; [_Strophe_ 2.
And the Father, where they ranged,
Shook the golden stars and glowing,
And the great Sun stood deranged
In the glory of his going.
Lo, from that day forth, the East
Bears the sunrise on his breast,
And the flaming Day in heaven
Down the dim ways of the west
Driveth, to be lost at even.
The wet clouds to Northward beat;
And Lord Ammon's desert seat
Crieth from the South, unslaken,
For the dews that once were sweet,
For the rain that God hath taken.
'Tis a children's tale, that old [_Antistrophe_ 2.
Shepherds on far hills have told;
And we reck not of their telling,
Deem not that the Sun of gold
Ever turned his fiery dwelling,
Or beat backward in the sky,
For the wrongs of man, the cry
Of his ailing tribes assembled,
To do justly, ere they die!
Once, men told the tale, and trembled;
Fearing God, O Queen: whom thou
Hast forgotten, till thy brow
With old blood is dark and daunted.
And thy brethren, even now,
Walk among the stars, enchanted.
LEADER.
Ha, friends, was that a voice? Or some dream sound
Of voices shaketh me, as underground
God's thunder shuddering? Hark, again, and clear!
It swells upon the wind. --Come forth and hear!
Mistress, Electra!
ELECTRA, _a bare sword in her hand, comes from the house. _
ELECTRA.
Friends! Some news is brought?
How hath the battle ended?
LEADER.
I know naught.
There seemed a cry as of men massacred!
ELECTRA.
I heard it too. Far off, but still I heard.
LEADER.
A distant floating voice . . . Ah, plainer now!
ELECTRA.
Of Argive anguish! --Brother, is it thou?
LEADER.
I know not. Many confused voices cry. . .
ELECTRA.
Death, then for me! That answer bids me die.
LEADER.
Nay, wait! We know not yet thy fortune. Wait!
ELECTRA.
No messenger from him! --Too late, too late!
LEADER.
The message yet will come. 'Tis not a thing
So light of compass, to strike down a king.
_Enter a_ MESSENGER, _running_.
MESSENGER.
Victory, Maids of Argos, Victory!
Orestes . . . all that love him, list to me! . . .
Hath conquered! Agamemnon's murderer lies
Dead! O give thanks to God with happy cries!
ELECTRA.
Who art thou? I mistrust thee. . . . 'Tis a plot!
MESSENGER.
Thy brother's man. Look well. Dost know me not?
ELECTRA.
Friend, friend; my terror made me not to see
Thy visage. Now I know and welcome thee.
How sayst thou? He is dead, verily dead,
My father's murderer. . . ?
MESSENGER.
Shall it be said
Once more? I know again and yet again
Thy heart would hear. Aegisthus lieth slain!
ELECTRA.
Ye Gods! And thou, O Right, that seest all,
Art come at last? . . . But speak; how did he fall?
How swooped the wing of death? . . . I crave to hear.
MESSENGER.
Forth of this hut we set our faces clear
To the world, and struck the open chariot road;
Then on toward the pasture lands, where stood
The great Lord of Mycenae. In a set
Garden beside a channelled rivulet,
Culling a myrtle garland for his brow,
He walked: but hailed us as we passed: "How now,
Strangers! Who are ye? Of what city sprung,
And whither bound? " "Thessalians," answered young
Orestes: "to Alpheus journeying,
With gifts to Olympian Zeus. " Whereat the king:
"This while, beseech you, tarry, and make full
The feast upon my hearth. We slay a bull
Here to the Nymphs. Set forth at break of day
To-morrow, and 'twill cost you no delay.
But come"--and so he gave his hand, and led
The two men in--"I must not be gainsaid;
Come to the house. Ho, there; set close at hand
Vats of pure water, that the guests may stand
At the altar's verge, where falls the holy spray. "
Then quickly spake Orestes: "By the way
We cleansed us in a torrent stream. We need
No purifying here. But if indeed
Strangers may share thy worship, here are we
Ready, O King, and swift to follow thee. "
So spoke they in the midst. And every thrall
Laid down the spears they served the King withal,
And hied him to the work. Some bore amain
The death-vat, some the corbs of hallowed grain;
Or kindled fire, and round the fire and in
Set cauldrons foaming; and a festal din
Filled all the place. Then took thy mother's lord
The ritual grains, and o'er the altar poured
Its due, and prayed: "O Nymphs of Rock and Mere,
With many a sacrifice for many a year,
May I and she who waits at home for me,
My Tyndarid Queen, adore you. May it be
Peace with us always, even as now; and all
Ill to mine enemies"--meaning withal
Thee and Orestes. Then my master prayed
Against that prayer, but silently, and said
No word, to win once more his fatherland.
Then in the corb Aegisthus set his hand,
Took the straight blade, cut from the proud bull's head
A lock, and laid it where the fire was red;
Then, while the young men held the bull on high,
Slew it with one clean gash; and suddenly
Turned on thy brother: "Stranger, every true
Thessalian, so the story goes, can hew
A bull's limbs clean, and tame a mountain steed.
Take up the steel, and show us if indeed
Rumour speak true," Right swift Orestes took
The Dorian blade, back from his shoulders shook
His brooched mantle, called on Pylades
To aid him, and waved back the thralls. With ease
Heelwise he held the bull, and with one glide
Bared the white limb; then stripped the mighty hide
From off him, swifter than a runner runs
His furlongs, and laid clean the flank. At once
Aegisthus stooped, and lifted up with care
The ominous parts, and gazed. No lobe was there;
But lo, strange caves of gall, and, darkly raised,
The portal vein boded to him that gazed
Fell visitations. Dark as night his brow
Clouded. Then spake Orestes: "Why art thou
Cast down so sudden? " "Guest," he cried, "there be
Treasons from whence I know not, seeking me.
Of all my foes, 'tis Agamemnon's son;
His hate is on my house, like war. " "Have done! "
Orestes cried: "thou fear'st an exile's plot,
Lord of a city? Make thy cold heart hot
With meat. --Ho, fling me a Thessalian steel!
This Dorian is too light. I will unseal
The breast of him. " He took the heavier blade,
And clave the bone. And there Aegisthus stayed,
The omens in his hand, dividing slow
This sign from that; till, while his head bent low,
Up with a leap thy brother flashed the sword,
Then down upon his neck, and cleft the cord
Of brain and spine. Shuddering the body stood
One instant in an agony of blood,
And gasped and fell. The henchmen saw, and straight
Flew to their spears, a host of them to set
Against those twain. But there the twain did stand
Unfaltering, each his iron in his hand,
Edge fronting edge. Till "Hold," Orestes calls:
"I come not as in wrath against these walls
And mine own people. One man righteously
I have slain, who slew my father. It is I,
The wronged Orestes! Hold, and smite me not,
Old housefolk of my father! " When they caught
That name, their lances fell. And one old man,
An ancient in the house, drew nigh to scan
His face, and knew him. Then with one accord
They crowned thy brother's temples, and outpoured
joy and loud songs. And hither now he fares
To show the head, no Gorgon, that he bears,
But that Aegisthus whom thou hatest! Yea,
Blood against blood, his debt is paid this day.
[_He goes off to meet the others_--ELECTRA _stands as though stupefied_.
CHORUS.
Now, now thou shalt dance in our dances,
Beloved, as a fawn in the night!
The wind is astir for the glances
Of thy feet; thou art robed with delight.
He hath conquered, he cometh to free us
With garlands new-won,
More high than the crowns of Alpheus,
Thine own father's son:
Cry, cry, for the day that is won!
ELECTRA.
O Light of the Sun, O chariot wheels of flame,
O Earth and Night, dead Night without a name
That held me! Now mine eyes are raised to see,
And all the doorways of my soul flung free.
Aegisthus dead! My father's murderer dead!
What have I still of wreathing for the head
Stored in my chambers? Let it come forth now
To bind my brother's and my conqueror's brow.
[_Some garlands are brought out from the house to_ ELECTRA.
CHORUS.
Go, gather thy garlands, and lay them
As a crown on his brow, many-tressed,
But our feet shall refrain not nor stay them:
'Tis the joy that the Muses have blest.
For our king is returned as from prison,
The old king, to be master again,
Our beloved in justice re-risen:
With guile he hath slain. . .
But cry, cry in joyance again!
[_There enter from the left_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES, _followed by some
thralls_.
ELECTRA.
O conqueror, come! The king that trampled Troy
Knoweth his son Orestes. Come in joy,
Brother, and take to bind thy rippling hair
My crowns! . . . . O what are crowns, that runners wear
For some vain race? But thou in battle true
Hast felled our foe Aegisthus, him that slew
By craft thy sire and mine. [_She crowns_ ORESTES.
And thou no less,
O friend at need, O reared in righteousness,
Take, Pylades, this chaplet from my hand.
'Twas half thy battle. And may ye two stand
Thus alway, victory-crowned, before my face! [_She crowns_ PYLADES.
ORESTES.
Electra, first as workers of this grace
Praise thou the Gods, and after, if thou will,
Praise also me, as chosen to fulfil
God's work and Fate's. --Aye, 'tis no more a dream;
In very deed I come from slaying him.
Thou hast the knowledge clear, but lo, I bring
More also. See himself, dead!
[_Attendants bring in the body of_ AEGISTHUS _on a bier_.
Wouldst thou fling
This lord on the rotting earth for beasts to tear?
Or up, where all the vultures of the air
May glut them, pierce and nail him for a sign
Far off? Work all thy will. Now he is thine.
ELECTRA.
It shames me; yet, God knows, I hunger sore--
ORESTES.
What wouldst thou? Speak; the old fear nevermore
Need touch thee.
ELECTRA.
To let loose upon the dead
My hate! Perchance to rouse on mine own head
The sleeping hate of the world?
ORESTES.
No man that lives
Shall scathe thee by one word.
ELECTRA.
Our city gives
Quick blame; and little love have men for me.
ORESTES.
If aught thou hast unsaid, sister, be free
And speak. Between this man and us no bar
Cometh nor stint, but the utter rage of war.
[_She goes and stands over the body. A moment's silence_.
ELECTRA.
Ah me, what have I? What first flood of hate
To loose upon thee? What last curse to sate
My pain, or river of wild words to flow
Bank-high between? . . . Nothing? . . . And yet I know
There hath not passed one sun, but through the long
Cold dawns, over and over, like a song,
I have said them--words held back, O, some day yet
To flash into thy face, would but the fret
Of ancient fear fall loose and let me free.
And free I am, now; and can pay to thee
At last the weary debt.
