No More Learning

I bid the strangers hail!

ORESTES.

All hail to thee,
Greybeard! --Prithee, what man of all the King
Trusted of old, is now this broken thing?

ELECTRA.

'Tis he that trained my father's boyhood.

ORESTES.

How?
And stole from death thy brother? Sayest thou?

ELECTRA.

This man was his deliverer, if it be
Deliverance.

ORESTES.

How his old eye pierceth me,
As one that testeth silver and alloy!
Sees he some likeness here?

ELECTRA.

Perchance 'tis joy,
To see Orestes' comrade, that he feels.

ORESTES.

None dearer. --But what ails the man? He reels
Dizzily back.

ELECTRA.

I marvel. I can say
No more.

OLD MAN (_in a broken voice_).

Electra, mistress, daughter, pray!
Pray unto God!

ELECTRA.

Of all the things I crave,
The thousand things, or all that others have,
What should I pray for?

OLD MAN.

Pray thine arms may hold
At last this treasure-dream of more than gold
God shows us!

ELECTRA.

God, I pray thee! . . . Wouldst thou more?

OLD MAN.

Gaze now upon this man, and bow before
Thy dearest upon earth!

ELECTRA.

I gaze on thee!
O, hath time made thee mad?

OLD MAN.

Mad, that I see
Thy brother?

ELECTRA.

My . . . I know not what thou say'st:
I looked not for it. . .

OLD MAN.

I tell thee, here confessed
Standeth Orestes, Agamemnon's son!

ELECTRA.

A sign before I trust thee! O, but one!
How dost thou know. . . ?

OLD MAN.

There, by his brow, I see
The scar he made, that day he ran with thee
Chasing thy fawn, and fell.

ELECTRA (_in a dull voice_).

A scar? 'Tis so.
I see a scar.

OLD MAN.

And fearest still to throw
Thine arms round him thou lovest?

ELECTRA.

O, no more!
Thy sign hath conquered me. . . . (_throwing herself into_ ORESTES' _arms_).
At last, at last!
Thy face like light! And do I hold thee fast,
Unhoped for?

ORESTES.

Yea, at last! And I hold thee.

ELECTRA.

I never knew. . .

ORESTES.

I dreamed not.

ELECTRA.

Is it he,
Orestes?

ORESTES.

Thy defender, yea, alone
To fight the world! Lo, this day have I thrown
A net, which once unbroken from the sea
Drawn home, shall . . . O, and it must surely be!
Else men shall know there is no God, no light
In Heaven, if wrong to the end shall conquer right.

CHORUS.

Comest thou, comest thou now,
Chained by the years and slow,
O Day long sought?
A light on the mountains cold
Is lit, yea, a fire burneth,
'Tis the light of one that turneth
From roamings manifold,
Back out of exile old
To the house that knew him not.

Some spirit hath turned our way,
Victory visible,
Walking at thy right hand,
Beloved; O lift this day
Thine arms, thy voice, as a spell;
And pray for thy brother, pray,
Threading the perilous land,
That all be well!

ORESTES.

Enough; this dear delight is mine at last
Of thine embracing; and the hour comes fast
When we shall stand again as now we stand,
And stint not. --Stay, Old Man: thou, being at hand
At the edge of time, advise me, by what way
Best to requite my father's murderers. Say,
Have I in Argos any still to trust;
Or is the love, once borne me, trod in dust,
Even as my fortunes are? Whom shall I seek?
By day or night? And whither turn, to wreak
My will on them that hate us? Say.

OLD MAN.

My son,
In thine adversity, there is not one
Will call thee friend. Nay, that were treasure-trove,
A friend to share, not faltering from love,
Fair days and foul the same. Thy name is gone
Forth to all Argos, as a thing o'erthrown
And dead. Thou hast not left one spark to glow
With hope in one friend's heart! Hear all, and know:
Thou hast God's fortune and thine own right hand,
Naught else, to conquer back thy fatherland.

ORESTES.

The deed, the deed! What must we do?

OLD MAN.

Strike down
Aegisthus . . . and thy mother.

ORESTES.

'Tis the crown
My race is run for. But how find him?

OLD MAN.

Not
Within the city walls, however hot
Thy spirit.

ORESTES.

Ha! With watchers doth he go
Begirt, and mailed pikemen?

OLD MAN.

Even so:
He lives in fear of thee, and night nor day
Hath slumber.

ORESTES.

That way blocked! --'Tis thine to say
What next remains.

OLD MAN.

I will; and thou give ear.
A thought has found me!

ORESTES.

All good thoughts be near,
For thee to speak and me to understand!

OLD MAN.

But now I saw Aegisthus, close at hand
As here I journeyed.

ORESTES.

That good word shall trace
My path for me! Thou saw'st him? In what place?

OLD MAN.

Out on the pastures where his horses stray.

ORESTES.

What did he there so far? --A gleam of day
Crosseth our darkness.

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!