1The scene
[The scene represents a battlefield, a few days after the battle. At the back are the walls of Troy, partially ruined. In front of them, to right and left, are some huts, containing those of the Captive Women who have been specially set apart for the chief Greek leaders. At one side some dead bodies of armed men are visible. In front a tall woman with white hair is lying on the ground asleep.]
[It is the dusk of early dawn, before sunrise. The figure of the god POSEIDON is dimly seen before the walls.]
2Poseidon
Up from Aegean caverns, pool by poolOf blue salt sea, where feet most beautifulOf Nereid maidens weave beneath the foamTheir long sea-dances, I, their lord, am come,Poseidon of the Sea. 'Twas I whose power,With great Apollo, builded tower by towerThese walls of Troy; and still my care doth standTrue to the ancient People of my hand;Which now as smoke is perished, in the shockOf Argive spears. Down from Parnassus' rockThe Greek Epeios came, of Phocian seed,And wrought by Pallas' mysteries a SteedMarvellous, big with arms; and through my wallIt passed, a death-fraught image magical.The groves are empty and the sanctuariesRun red with blood. Unburied Priam liesBy his own hearth, on God's high altar-stair,And Phrygian gold goes forth and raiment rareTo the Argive ships; and weary soldiers roamWaiting the wind that blows at last for home,For wives and children, left long years away,Beyond the seed's tenth fullness and decay,To work this land's undoing.
And for me,Since Argive Hera conquereth, and sheWho wrought with Hera to the Phrygians' woe,Pallas, behold, I bow mine head and goForth from great Ilion and mine altars old.When a still city lieth in the holdOf Desolation, all God's spirit thereIs sick and turns from worship.--Hearken whereThe ancient River waileth with a voiceOf many women, portioned by the choiceOf war amid new lords, as the lots leapFor Thessaly, or Argos, or the steepOf Theseus' Rock. And others yet there are,High women, chosen from the waste of warFor the great kings, behind these portals hid;And with them that Laconian Tyndarid,Helen, like them a prisoner and a prize.And this unhappy one--would any eyesGaze now on Hecuba? Here at the GatesShe lies 'mid many tears for many fatesOf wrong. One child beside Achilles' graveIn secret slain, Polyxena the brave,Lies bleeding. Priam and his sons are gone;And, lo, Cassandra, she the Chosen One,Whom Lord Apollo spared to walk her wayA swift and virgin spirit, on this dayLust hath her, and she goeth garlandedA bride of wrath to Agamemnon's bed.
[He turns to go; and another divine Presence becomes visible in the dusk. It is the goddess PALLAS ATHENA.
O happy long ago, farewell, farewell,Ye shining towers and mine old citadel;Broken by Pallas, Child of God, or stillThy roots had held thee true.
3Pallas
Is it the willOf God's high Brother, to whose hand is givenGreat power of old, and worship of all Heaven,To suffer speech from one whose enmitiesThis day are cast aside?
4Poseidon
His will it is:Kindred and long companionship withal,Most high Athena, are things magical.
5Pallas
Blest be thy gentle mood!--Methinks I seeA road of comfort here, for thee and me.
6Poseidon
Thou hast some counsel of the Gods, or wordSpoken of Zeus? Or is it tidings heardFrom some far Spirit?
7Pallas
For this Ilion's sake,Whereon we tread, I seek thee, and would makeMy hand as thine.
8Poseidon
Hath that old hate and deepFailed, where she lieth in her ashen sleep?Thou pitiest her?
9Pallas
Speak first; wilt thou be oneIn heart with me and hand till all be done?
10Poseidon
Yea; but lay bare thy heart. For this land's sakeThou comest, not for Hellas?
11Pallas
I would makeMine ancient enemies laugh for joy, and bringOn these Greek ships a bitter homecoming.
12Poseidon
Swift is thy spirit's path, and strange withal,And hot thy love and hate, where'er they fall.
13Pallas
A deadly wrong they did me, yea withinMine holy place: thou knowest?
14Poseidon
I know the sinOf Ajax, when he cast Cassandra down....
15Pallas
And no man rose and smote him; not a frownNor word from all the Greeks!
16Poseidon
And 'twas thine handThat gave them Troy!
17Pallas
Therefore with thee I standTo smite them.
18Poseidon
All thou cravest, even nowIs ready in mine heart. What seekest thou?
19Pallas
An homecoming that striveth ever moreAnd cometh to no home.
20Poseidon
Here on the shoreWouldst hold them or amid mine own salt foam?
21Pallas
When the last ship hath bared her sail for home!Zeus shall send rain, long rain and flaw of drivenHail, and a whirling darkness blown from heaven;To me his levin-light he promisethO'er ships and men, for scourging and hot death:Do thou make wild the roads of the sea, and steepWith war of waves and yawning of the deep,Till dead men choke Euboea's curling bay.So Greece shall dread even in an after dayMy house, nor scorn the Watchers of strange lands!
22Poseidon
I give thy boon unbartered. These mine handsShall stir the waste Aegean; reefs that crossThe Delian pathways, jag-torn Myconos,Scyros and Lemnos, yea, and storm-drivenCaphêreus with the bones of drownèd menShall glut him.--Go thy ways, and bid the SireYield to thine hand the arrows of his fire.Then wait thine hour, when the last ship shall windHer cable coil for home! [Exit PALLAS.
How are ye blind,Ye treaders down of cities, ye that castTemples to desolation, and lay wasteTombs, the untrodden sanctuaries where lieThe ancient dead; yourselves so soon to die!
[Exit POSEIDON.
* * * * *
[The day slowly dawns: HECUBA wakes.]
23Hecuba
Up from the earth, O weary head!This is not Troy, about, above--Not Troy, nor we the lords thereof.Thou breaking neck, be strengthenèd!Endure and chafe not. The winds raveAnd falter. Down the world's wide road,Float, float where streams the breath of God;Nor turn thy prow to breast the wave.
Ah woe!... For what woe lacketh here?My children lost, my land, my lord.O thou great wealth of glory, storedOf old in Ilion, year by year
We watched ... and wert thou nothingness?What is there that I fear to say?And yet, what help?... Ah, well-a-day,This ache of lying, comfortless
And haunted! Ah, my side, my browAnd temples! All with changeful painMy body rocketh, and would fainMove to the tune of tears that flow:For tears are music too, and keepA song unheard in hearts that weep.[She rises and gazes towards the Greek ships far off on the shore.
O ships, O crowding facesOf ships, O hurrying beatOf oars as of crawling feet,How found ye our holy places?Threading the narrows through,Out from the gulfs of the Greek,Out to the clear dark blue,With hate ye came and with joy,And the noise of your music flew,Clarion and pipe did shriek,As the coilèd cords ye threw,Held in the heart of Troy!
What sought ye then that ye came?A woman, a thing abhorred:A King's wife that her lordHateth: and Castor's shameIs hot for her sake, and the reedsOf old Eurôtas stirWith the noise of the name of her.She slew mine ancient King,The Sower of fifty Seeds,And cast forth mine and me,As shipwrecked men, that clingTo a reef in an empty sea.
Who am I that I sitHere at a Greek king's door,Yea, in the dust of it?A slave that men drive before,A woman that hath no home,Weeping alone for her dead;A low and bruisèd head,And the glory struck therefrom.[She starts up from her solitary brooding, and calls to the otherTrojan Women in the huts.
O Mothers of the Brazen Spear,And maidens, maidens, brides of shame,Troy is a smoke, a dying flame;Together we will weep for her:I call ye as a wide-wing'd birdCalleth the children of her fold,
To cry, ah, not the cry men heardIn Ilion, not the songs of old,That echoed when my hand was trueOn Priam's sceptre, and my feetTouched on the stone one signal beat,And out the Dardan music rolled;And Troy's great Gods gave ear thereto.
[The door of one of the huts on the right opens, and the Women steal out severally, startled and afraid.
24First Woman
[Strophe I.
How say'st thou? Whither moves thy cry,Thy bitter cry? Behind our doorWe heard thy heavy heart outpourIts sorrow: and there shivered byFear and a quick sob shakenFrom prisoned hearts that shall be free no more!
25Hecuba
Child, 'tis the ships that stir upon the shore....
26Second Woman
The ships, the ships awaken!
27Third Woman
Dear God, what would they? OverseasBear me afar to strange cities?
28Hecuba
Nay, child, I know not. Dreams are these,Fears of the hope-forsaken.
29First Woman
Awake, O daughters of affliction, wakeAnd learn your lots! Even now the Argives breakTheir camp for sailing!
30Hecuba
Ah, not Cassandra! Wake not herWhom God hath maddened, lest the foeMock at her dreaming. Leave me clearFrom that one edge of woe.O Troy, my Troy, thou diest hereMost lonely; and most lonely weThe living wander forth from thee,And the dead leave thee wailing!
[One of the huts on the left is now open, and the rest of the CHORUS come out severally. Their number eventually amounts to fifteen.
31Fourth Woman
[Antistrophe I.
Out of the tent of the Greek kingI steal, my Queen, with trembling breath:What means thy call? Not death; not death!They would not slay so low a thing!
32Fifth Woman
O, 'tis the ship-folk cryingTo deck the galleys: and we part, we part!
33Hecuba
Nay, daughter: take the morning to thine heart.
34Fifth Woman
My heart with dread is dying!
35Sixth Woman
An herald from the Greek hath come!
36Fifth Woman
How have they cast me, and to whomA bondmaid?
37Hecuba
Peace, child: wait thy doom.Our lots are near the trying.
38Fourth Woman
Argos, belike, or Phthia shall it be,Or some lone island of the tossing sea,Far, far from Troy?
39Hecuba
And I the agèd, where go I,A winter-frozen bee, a slaveDeath-shapen, as the stones that lieHewn on a dead man's grave:The children of mine enemyTo foster, or keep watch beforeThe threshold of a master's door,I that was Queen in Troy!
40A Woman To Another
[Strophe 2.
And thou, what tears can tell thy doom?
41The Other
The shuttle still shall flit and changeBeneath my fingers, but the loom,Sister, be strange.
42Another (wildly)
Look, my dead child! My child, my love,The last look....
43Another
Oh, there cometh worse.A Greek's bed in the dark....
44Another
God curseThat night and all the powers thereof!
45Another
Or pitchers to and fro to bearTo some Pirênê on the hill,Where the proud water craveth stillIts broken-hearted minister.
46Another
God guide me yet to Theseus' land,The gentle land, the famed afar....
47Another
But not the hungry foam--Ah, never!--Of fierce Eurotas, Helen's river,To bow to Menelaus' hand,That wasted Troy with war!
48A Woman
[Antistrophe 2.
They told us of a land high-born,Where glimmers round Olympus' rootsA lordly river, red with cornAnd burdened fruits.
49Another
Aye, that were next in my desireTo Athens, where good spirits dwell....
50Another
Or Aetna's breast, the deeps of fireThat front the Tyrian's Citadel:First mother, she, of SicilyAnd mighty mountains: fame hath toldTheir crowns of goodness manifold....
51Another
And, close beyond the narrowing sea,A sister land, where float enchantedIonian summits, wave on wave,And Crathis of the burning tressesMakes red the happy vale, and blessesWith gold of fountains spirit-hauntedHomes of true men and brave!
52Leader
But lo, who cometh: and his lipsGrave with the weight of dooms unknown:A Herald from the Grecian ships.Swift comes he, hot-foot to be doneAnd finished. Ah, what bringeth heOf news or judgment? Slaves are we,Spoils that the Greek hath won!
[TALTHYBIUS, followed by some Soldiers, enters from the left.
53Talthybius
Thou know'st me, Hecuba. Often have I crossedThy plain with tidings from the Hellene host.'Tis I, Talthybius.... Nay, of ancient useThou know'st me. And I come to bear thee news.
54Hecuba
Ah me, 'tis here, 'tis here,Women of Troy, our long embosomed fear!
55Talthybius
The lots are cast, if that it was ye feared.
56Hecuba
What lord, what land.... Ah me,Phthia or Thebes, or sea-worn Thessaly?
57Talthybius
Each hath her own. Ye go not in one herd.
58Hecuba
Say then what lot hath any? What of joyFalls, or can fall on any child of Troy?
59Talthybius
I know: but make thy questions severally.
60Hecuba
My stricken one must beStill first. Say how Cassandra's portion lies.
61Talthybius
Chosen from all for Agamemnon's prize!
62Hecuba
How, for his Spartan brideA tirewoman? For Helen's sister's pride?
63Talthybius
Nay, nay: a bride herself, for the King's bed.
64Hecuba
The sainted of Apollo? And her ownPrize that God promisedOut of the golden clouds, her virgin crown?...
65Talthybius
He loved her for that same strange holiness.
66Hecuba
Daughter, away, away,Cast all away,The haunted Keys, the lonely stole's arrayThat kept thy body like a sacred place!
67Talthybius
Is't not rare fortune that the King hath smiledOn such a maid?
68Hecuba
What of that other childYe reft from me but now?
69Talthybius (speaking with some constraint)
Polyxena? Or what child meanest thou?
70Hecuba
The same. What man now hath her, or what doom?
71Talthybius
She rests apart, to watch Achilles' tomb.
72Hecuba
To watch a tomb? My daughter? What is this?...Speak, Friend? What fashion of the laws of Greece?
73Talthybius
Count thy maid happy! She hath naught of illTo fear....
74Hecuba
What meanest thou? She liveth still?
75Talthybius
I mean, she hath one toil that holds her freeFrom all toil else.
76Hecuba
What of Andromache,Wife of mine iron-hearted Hector, whereJourneyeth she?
77Talthybius
Pyrrhus, Achilles' son, hath taken her.
78Hecuba
And I, whose slave am I,The shaken head, the arm that creepeth by,Staff-crutchèd, like to fall?
79Talthybius
Odysseus, Ithaca's king, hath thee for thrall.
80Hecuba
Beat, beat the crownless head:Rend the cheek till the tears run red!A lying man and a pitilessShall be lord of me, a heart full-flownWith scorn of righteousness:O heart of a beast where law is none,Where all things change so that lust be fed,The oath and the deed, the right and the wrong,Even the hate of the forked tongue:Even the hate turns and is cold,False as the love that was false of old!
O Women of Troy, weep for me!Yea, I am gone: I am gone my ways.Mine is the crown of misery,The bitterest day of all our days.
81Leader
Thy fate thou knowest, Queen: but I know notWhat lord of South or North has won my lot.
82Talthybius
Go, seek Cassandra, men! Make your best speed,That I may leave her with the King, and leadThese others to their divers lords.... Ha, there!What means that sudden light? Is it the flareOf torches?
[Light is seen shining through the crevices of the second hut on the right. He moves towards it.
Would they fire their prison rooms,Or how, these dames of Troy?--'Fore God, the doomsAre known, and now they burn themselves and dieRather than sail with us! How savagelyIn days like these a free neck chafes beneathIts burden!... Open! Open quick! Such deathWere bliss to them, it may be: but 'twill bringMuch wrath, and leave me shamed before the King!
83Hecuba
There is no fire, no peril: 'tis my child,Cassandra, by the breath of God made wild.
[The door opens from within and CASSANDRA enters, white-robed and wreathed like a Priestess, a great torch in her hand. She is singing softly to herself and does not see the Herald or the scene before her.
84Cassandra
Lift, lift it high: [Strophe.Give it to mine hand!Lo, I bear a flameUnto God! I praise his name.I light with a burning brandThis sanctuary.Blessèd is he that shall wed,And blessèd, blessèd am IIn Argos: a bride to lieWith a king in a king's bed.
Hail, O Hymen red,O Torch that makest one!Weepest thou, Mother mine own?Surely thy cheek is paleWith tears, tears that wailFor a land and a father dead.But I go garlanded:I am the Bride of Desire:Therefore my torch is borne--Lo, the lifting of morn,Lo, the leaping of fire!--
For thee, O Hymen bright,For thee, O Moon of the Deep,So Law hath charged, for the lightOf a maid's last sleep.
Awake, O my feet, awake: [Antistrophe.Our father's hope is won!Dance as the dancing skiesOver him, where he liesHappy beneath the sun!...Lo, the Ring that I make....
[She makes a circle round her with a torch, and visions appear to her.
Apollo!... Ah, is it thou?O shrine in the laurels cold,I bear thee still, as of old,Mine incense! Be near to me now.
[She waves the torch as though bearing incense.
O Hymen, Hymen fleet:Quick torch that makest one!...How? Am I still alone?Laugh as I laugh, and twineIn the dance, O Mother mine:Dear feet, be near my feet!
Come, greet ye Hymen, greetHymen with songs of pride:Sing to him loud and long,Cry, cry, when the songFaileth, for joy of the bride!
O Damsels girt in the goldOf Ilion, cry, cry ye,For him that is doomed of oldTo be lord of me!
85Leader
O hold the damsel, lest her trancèd feetLift her afar, Queen, toward the Hellene fleet!
86Hecuba
O Fire, Fire, where men make marriagesSurely thou hast thy lot; but what are theseThou bringest flashing? Torches savage-wildAnd far from mine old dreams.--Alas, my child,How little dreamed I then of wars or redSpears of the Greek to lay thy bridal bed!Give me thy brand; it hath no holy blazeThus in thy frenzy flung. Nor all thy daysNor all thy griefs have changed them yet, nor learnedWisdom.--Ye women, bear the pine half burnedTo the chamber back; and let your drownèd eyesAnswer the music of these bridal cries!
[She takes the torch and gives it to one of the women.
87Cassandra
O Mother, fill mine hair with happy flowers,And speed me forth. Yea, if my spirit cowers,Drive me with wrath! So liveth Loxias,A bloodier bride than ever Helen wasGo I to Agamemnon, Lord most highOf Hellas!... I shall kill him, mother; IShall kill him, and lay waste his house with fireAs he laid ours. My brethren and my sireShall win again....
(Checking herself) But part I must let be,And speak not. Not the axe that craveth me,And more than me; not the dark wanderingsOf mother-murder that my bridal brings,And all the House of Atreus down, down, down....
Nay, I will show thee. Even now this townIs happier than the Greeks. I know the powerOf God is on me: but this little hour,Wilt thou but listen, I will hold him back!
One love, one woman's beauty, o'er the trackOf hunted Helen, made their myriads fall.And this their King so wise, who ruleth all,What wrought he? Cast out Love that Hate might feed:Gave to his brother his own child, his seedOf gladness, that a woman fled, and fainTo fly for ever, should be turned again!
So the days waned, and armies on the shoreOf Simois stood and strove and died. Wherefore?No man had moved their landmarks; none had shookTheir wallèd towns.--And they whom Ares took,Had never seen their children: no wife cameWith gentle arms to shroud the limbs of themFor burial, in a strange and angry earthLaid dead. And there at home, the same long dearth:Women that lonely died, and aged menWaiting for sons that ne'er should turn again,Nor know their graves, nor pour drink-offerings,To still the unslakèd dust. These be the thingsThe conquering Greek hath won!
But we--what pride,What praise of men were sweeter?--fighting diedTo save our people. And when war was redAround us, friends upbore the gentle deadHome, and dear women's heads about them woundWhite shrouds, and here they sleep in the old groundBelovèd. And the rest long days fought on,Dwelling with wives and children, not aloneAnd joyless, like these Greeks.
And Hector's woe,What is it? He is gone, and all men knowHis glory, and how true a heart he bore.It is the gift the Greek hath brought! Of yoreMen saw him not, nor knew him. Yea, and evenParis hath loved withal a child of heaven:Else had his love but been as others are.Would ye be wise, ye Cities, fly from war!Yet if war come, there is a crown in deathFor her that striveth well and perishethUnstained: to die in evil were the stain!Therefore, O Mother, pity not thy slain,Nor Troy, nor me, the bride. Thy direst foeAnd mine by this my wooing is brought low.
88Talthybius (at last breaking through the spell that has held him)
I swear, had not Apollo made thee mad,Not lightly hadst thou flung this shower of badBodings, to speed my General o'er the seas!'Fore God, the wisdoms and the greatnessesOf seeming, are they hollow all, as thingsOf naught? This son of Atreus, of all kingsMost mighty, hath so bowed him to the loveOf this mad maid, and chooseth her aboveAll women! By the Gods, rude though I be,I would not touch her hand!
Look thou; I seeThy lips are blind, and whatso words they speak,Praises of Troy or shamings of the Greek,I cast to the four winds! Walk at my sideIn peace!... And heaven content him of his bride!
[He moves as though to go, but turns to HECUBA, and speaks more gently.
And thou shalt follow to Odysseus' hostWhen the word comes. 'Tis a wise queen thougo'stTo serve, and gentle: so the Ithacans say.
89Cassandra (seeing for the first time the Herald and all the scene)
How fierce a slave!... O Heralds, Heralds!Yea,Voices of Death; and mists are over themOf dead men's anguish, like a diadem,These weak abhorred things that serve the hateOf kings and peoples!...
To Odysseus' gateMy mother goeth, say'st thou? Is God's wordAs naught, to me in silence ministered,That in this place she dies?... (To herself) Nomore; no more!Why should I speak the shame of them, beforeThey come?... Little he knows, that hard-besetSpirit, what deeps of woe await him yet;Till all these tears of ours and harrowingsOf Troy, by his, shall be as golden things.Ten years behind ten years athwart his wayWaiting: and home, lost and unfriended....
Nay:Why should Odysseus' labours vex my breath?On; hasten; guide me to the house of Death,To lie beside my bridegroom!...
Thou Greek King,Who deem'st thy fortune now so high a thing,Thou dust of the earth, a lowlier bed I see,In darkness, not in light, awaiting thee:And with thee, with thee ... there, where yawnethplainA rift of the hills, raging with winter rain,Dead ... and out-cast ... and naked.... It is IBeside my bridegroom: and the wild beasts cry,And ravin on God's chosen!
[She clasps her hands to her brow and feels the wreaths.
O, ye wreaths!Ye garlands of my God, whose love yet breathesAbout me, shapes of joyance mystical,Begone! I have forgot the festival,Forgot the joy. Begone! I tear ye, so,From off me!... Out on the swift winds they go.With flesh still clean I give them back to thee,Still white, O God, O light that leadest me!
[Turning upon the Herald.
Where lies the galley? Whither shall I tread?See that your watch be set, your sail be spreadThe wind comes quick! Three Powers--mark me,thou!--There be in Hell, and one walks with thee now!Mother, farewell, and weep not! O my sweetCity, my earth-clad brethren, and thou greatSire that begat us, but a space, ye Dead,And I am with you, yea, with crowned headI come, and shining from the fires that feedOn these that slay us now, and all their seed!
[She goes out, followed by Talthybius and the Soldiers Hecuba, after waiting for an instant motionless, falls to the ground.
90Leader Of Chorus
The Queen, ye Watchers! See, she falls, she falls,Rigid without a word! O sorry thralls,Too late! And will ye leave her downstricken,A woman, and so old? Raise her again!
[Some women go to HECUBA, but she refuses their aid and speaks without rising.
91Hecuba
Let lie ... the love we seek not is no love....This ruined body! Is the fall thereofToo deep for all that now is over meOf anguish, and hath been, and yet shall be?Ye Gods.... Alas! Why call on things so weakFor aid? Yet there is something that doth seek,Crying, for God, when one of us hath woe.O, I will think of things gone long agoAnd weave them to a song, like one more tearIn the heart of misery.... All kings we were;And I must wed a king. And sons I broughtMy lord King, many sons ... nay, that were naught;But high strong princes, of all Troy the best.Hellas nor Troäs nor the garnered EastHeld such a mother! And all these things beneathThe Argive spear I saw cast down in death,And shore these tresses at the dead men's feet.Yea, and the gardener of my garden great,It was not any noise of him nor taleI wept for; these eyes saw him, when the paleWas broke, and there at the altar Priam fellMurdered, and round him all his citadelSacked. And my daughters, virgins of the fold,Meet to be brides of mighty kings, behold,'Twas for the Greek I bred them! All are gone;And no hope left, that I shall look uponTheir faces any more, nor they on mine.And now my feet tread on the utmost line:An old, old slave-woman, I pass belowMine enemies' gates; and whatso task they knowFor this age basest, shall be mine; the door,Bowing, to shut and open.... I that boreHector!... and meal to grind, and this racked headBend to the stones after a royal bed;Tom rags about me, aye, and under themTom flesh; 'twill make a woman sick for shame!Woe's me; and all that one man's arms might holdOne woman, what long seas have o'er me rolledAnd roll for ever!... O my child, whose whiteSoul laughed amid the laughter of God's light,Cassandra, what hands and how strange a dayHave loosed thy zone! And thou, Polyxena,Where art thou? And my sons? Not any seedOf man nor woman now shall help my need.Why raise me any more? What hope have ITo hold me? Take this slave that once trod highIn Ilion; cast her on her bed of clayRock-pillowed, to lie down, and pass awayWasted with tears. And whatso man they callHappy, believe not ere the last day fall!
* * * * *
CHORUS. [Strophe.
O Muse, be near me now, and makeA strange song for Ilion's sake,Till a tone of tears be about mine earsAnd out of my lips a music breakFor Troy, Troy, and the end of the years:When the wheels of the Greek above me pressed,And the mighty horse-hoofs beat my breast;And all around were the Argive spearsA towering Steed of golden rein--O gold without, dark steel within!--Ramped in our gates; and all the plainLay silent where the Greeks had been.And a cry broke from all the folkGathered above on Ilion's rock:"Up, up, O fear is over now!To Pallas, who hath saved us living,To Pallas bear this victory-vow!"Then rose the old man from his room,The merry damsel left her loom,And each bound death about his browWith minstrelsy and high thanksgiving!
[Antistrophe.
O, swift were all in Troy that day,And girt them to the portal-way,Marvelling at that mountain ThingSmooth-carven, where the Argives lay,And wrath, and Ilion's vanquishing:Meet gift for her that spareth not,Heaven's yokeless Rider. Up they broughtThrough the steep gates her offering:Like some dark ship that climbs the shoreOn straining cables, up, where stoodHer marble throne, her hallowed floor,Who lusted for her people's blood.
A very weariness of joyFell with the evening over Troy:And lutes of Afric mingled thereWith Phrygian songs: and many a maiden,With white feet glancing light as air,Made happy music through the gloom:And fires on many an inward roomAll night broad-flashing, flung their glareOn laughing eyes and slumber-laden.
92A Maiden
I was among the dancers thereTo Artemis, and glorying sangHer of the Hills, the Maid most fair,Daughter of Zeus: and, lo, there rangA shout out of the dark, and fellDeathlike from street to street, and madeA silence in the citadel:And a child cried, as if afraid,And hid him in his mother's veil.Then stalked the Slayer from his den,The hand of Pallas served her well!O blood, blood of Troy was deepAbout the streets and altars then:And in the wedded rooms of sleep,Lo, the desolate dark alone,And headless things, men stumbled on.
And forth, lo, the women go,The crown of War, the crown of Woe,To bear the children of the foeAnd weep, weep, for Ilion!
* * * * *
[As the song ceases a chariot is seen approaching from the town, laden with spoils. On it sits a mourning Woman with a child in her arms.
93Leader
Lo, yonder on the heapèd crestOf a Greek wain, Andromachê,As one that o'er an unknown seaTosseth; and on her wave-borne breastHer loved one clingeth, Hector's child,Astyanax.... O most forlornOf women, whither go'st thou, borne'Mid Hector's bronzen arms, and piledSpoils of the dead, and pageantryOf them that hunted Ilion down?Aye, richly thy new lord shall crownThe mountain shrines of Thessaly!
ANDROMACHE[Strophe I.
Forth to the Greek I go,Driven as a beast is driven.
HEC. Woe, woe!
AND. Nay, mine is woe:Woe to none other given,And the song and the crown therefor!
HEC. O Zeus!
AND. He hates thee sore!
HEC. Children!
AND. No more, no moreTo aid thee: their strife is striven!
94Hecuba
[Antistrophe I.
Troy, Troy is gone!
AND. Yea, and her treasure parted.
HEC. Gone, gone, mine ownChildren, the noble-hearted!
AND. Sing sorrow....
HEC. For me, for me!
AND. Sing for the Great City,That falleth, falleth to beA shadow, a fire departed.
95Andromache
[Strophe 2.
Come to me, O my lover!
HEC. The dark shroudeth him over,My flesh, woman, not thine, not thine!
AND. Make of thine arms my cover!
96Hecuba
[Antistrophe 2.
O thou whose wound was deepest,Thou that my children keepest,Priam, Priam, O age-worn King,Gather me where thou sleepest.
97Andromache (her hands upon her heart)
[Strophe 3.
O here is the deep of desire,
HEC. (How? And is this not woe?)
AND. For a city burned with fire;
HEC. (It beateth, blow on blow.)
AND. God's wrath for Paris, thy son, that he died not long ago:
Who sold for his evil loveTroy and the towers thereof:Therefore the dead men lieNaked, beneath the eyeOf Pallas, and vultures croakAnd flap for joy:So Love hath laid his yokeOn the neck of Troy!
98Hecuba
[Antistrophe 3.
O mine own land, my home,
AND. (I weep for thee, left forlorn,)
HEC. See'st thou what end is come?
AND. (And the house where my babes were born.)
HEC. A desolate Mother we leave, O children, a City of scorn:
Even as the sound of a songLeft by the way, but longRemembered, a tune of tearsFalling where no man hears,In the old house, as rain,For things loved of yore:But the dead hath lost his painAnd weeps no more.
99Leader
How sweet are tears to them in bitter stress,And sorrow, and all the songs of heaviness.
ANDROMACHE.
Mother of him of old, whose mighty spearSmote Greeks like chaff, see'st thou what things arehere?
100Hecuba
I see God's hand, that buildeth a great crownFor littleness, and hath cast the mighty down.
101Andromache
I and my babe are driven among the drovesOf plundered cattle. O, when fortune movesSo swift, the high heart like a slave beats low.
102Hecuba
'Tis fearful to be helpless. Men but nowHave taken Cassandra, and I strove in vain.
103Andromache
Ah, woe is me; hath Ajax come again?But other evil yet is at thy gate.
104Hecuba
Nay, Daughter, beyond number, beyond weightMy evils are! Doom raceth against doom.
105Andromache
Polyxena across Achilles' tombLies slain, a gift flung to the dreamless dead.
106Hecuba
My sorrow!... 'Tis but what Talthybius said:So plain a riddle, and I read it not.
107Andromache
I saw her lie, and stayed this chariot;And raiment wrapt on her dead limbs, and beatMy breast for her.
108Hecuba (to herself)
O the foul sin of it!The wickedness! My child. My child! AgainI cry to thee. How cruelly art thou slain!
109Andromache
She hath died her death, and howso dark it be,Her death is sweeter than my misery.
110Hecuba
Death cannot be what Life is, Child; the cupOf Death is empty, and Life hath always hope.
111Andromache
O Mother, having ears, hear thou this wordFear-conquering, till thy heart as mine be stirredWith joy. To die is only not to be;And better to be dead than grievouslyLiving. They have no pain, they ponder notTheir own wrong. But the living that is broughtFrom joy to heaviness, his soul doth roam,As in a desert, lost, from its old home.Thy daughter lieth now as one unborn,Dead, and naught knowing of the lust and scornThat slew her. And I ... long since I drew mybowStraight at the heart of good fame; and I knowMy shaft hit; and for that am I the moreFallen from peace. All that men praise us for,I loved for Hector's sake, and sought to win.I knew that alway, be there hurt thereinOr utter innocence, to roam abroadHath ill report for women; so I trodDown the desire thereof, and walked my wayIn mine own garden. And light words and gayParley of women never passed my door.The thoughts of mine own heart ... I craved no more....Spoke with me, and I was happy. ConstantlyI brought fair silence and a tranquil eyeFor Hector's greeting, and watched well the wayOf living, where to guide and where obey.And, lo! some rumour of this peace, being goneForth to the Greek, hath cursed me. Achilles' son,So soon as I was taken, for his thrallChose me. I shall do service in the hallOf them that slew.... How? Shall I thrust asideHector's beloved face, and open wideMy heart to this new lord? Oh, I should standA traitor to the dead! And if my handAnd flesh shrink from him ... lo, wrath and despiteO'er all the house, and I a slave!
One night,One night ... aye, men have said it ... maketh tameA woman in a man's arms.... O shame, shame!What woman's lips can so forswear her dead,And give strange kisses in another's bed?Why, not a dumb beast, not a colt will runIn the yoke untroubled, when her mate is gone--A thing not in God's image, dull, unmovedOf reason. O my Hector! best beloved,That, being mine, wast all in all to me,My prince, my wise one, O my majestyOf valiance! No man's touch had ever comeNear me, when thou from out my father's homeDidst lead me and make me thine.... And thou artdead,And I war-flung to slavery and the breadOf shame in Hellas, over bitter seas!What knoweth she of evils like to these,That dead Polyxena, thou weepest for?There liveth not in my life any moreThe hope that others have. Nor will I tellThe lie to mine own heart, that aught is wellOr shall be well.... Yet, O, to dream were sweet!
112Leader
Thy feet have trod the pathway of my feet,And thy clear sorrow teacheth me mine own.
113Hecuba
Lo, yonder ships: I ne'er set foot on one,But tales and pictures tell, when over themBreaketh a storm not all too strong to stem,Each man strives hard, the tiller gripped, the mastManned, the hull baled, to face it: till at lastToo strong breaks the o'erwhelming sea: lo, thenThey cease, and yield them up as broken menTo fate and the wild waters. Even soI in my many sorrows bear me low,Nor curse, nor strive that other things may be.The great wave rolled from God hath conquered me.But, O, let Hector and the fates that fellOn Hector, sleep. Weep for him ne'er so well,Thy weeping shall not wake him. Honour thouThe new lord that is set above thee now,And make of thine own gentle pietyA prize to lure his heart. So shalt thou beA strength to them that love us, and--God knows,It may be--rear this babe among his foes,My Hector's child, to manhood and great aidFor Ilion. So her stones may yet be laidOne on another, if God will, and wroughtAgain to a city! Ah, how thought to thoughtStill beckons!... But what minion of the GreekIs this that cometh, with new words to speak?
[Enter TALTHYBIUS with a band of Soldiers. He comes forward slowly and with evident disquiet.
114Talthybius
Spouse of the noblest heart that beat in Troy,Andromache, hate me not! 'Tis not in joyI tell thee. But the people and the KingsHave with one voice....
115Andromache
What is it? Evil thingsAre on thy lips!
116Talthybius
Tis ordered, this child.... Oh,How can I tell her of it?
117Andromache
Doth he not goWith me, to the same master?
118Talthybius
There is noneIn Greece, shall e'er be master of thy son.
119Andromache
How? Will they leave him here to build againThe wreck?...
120Talthybius
I know not how to tell thee plain!
121Andromache
Thou hast a gentle heart ... if it be ill,And not good, news thou hidest!
122Talthybius
'Tis their willThy son shall die.... The whole vile thing is saidNow!
123Andromache
Oh, I could have borne mine enemy's bed!
124Talthybius
And speaking in the council of the hostOdysseus hath prevailed--
125Andromache
O lost! lost! lost!...Forgive me! It is not easy....
126Talthybius
... That the sonOf one so perilous be not fostered onTo manhood--
127Andromache
God; may his own counsel fallOn his own sons!
128Talthybius
... But from this crested wallOf Troy be dashed, and die.... Nay, let the thingBe done. Thou shalt be wiser so. Nor clingSo fiercely to him. Suffer as a braveWoman in bitter pain; nor think to haveStrength which thou hast not. Look about thee here!Canst thou see help, or refuge anywhere?Thy land is fallen and thy lord, and thouA prisoner and alone, one woman; howCanst battle against us? For thine own goodI would not have thee strive, nor make ill bloodAnd shame about thee.... Ah, nor move thy lipsIn silence there, to cast upon the shipsThy curse! One word of evil to the host,This babe shall have no burial, but be tossedNaked.... Ah, peace! And bear as best thou may,War's fortune. So thou shalt not go thy wayLeaving this child unburied; nor the GreekBe stern against thee, if thy heart be meek!
129Andromache (to the child)
Go, die, my best-beloved, my cherished one,In fierce men's hands, leaving me here alone.Thy father was too valiant; that is whyThey slay thee! Other children, like to die,Might have been spared for that. But on thy headHis good is turned to evil.
O thou bedAnd bridal; O the joining of the hand,That led me long ago to Hector's landTo bear, O not a lamb for Grecian swordsTo slaughter, but a Prince o'er all the hordesEnthroned of wide-flung Asia.... Weepest thou?Nay, why, my little one? Thou canst not know.And Father will not come; he will not come;Not once, the great spear flashing, and the tombRiven to set thee free! Not one of allHis brethren, nor the might of Ilion's wall.How shall it be? One horrible spring ... deep,deepDown. And thy neck.... Ah God, so comethsleep!...And none to pity thee!... Thou little thingThat curlest in my arms, what sweet scents clingAll round thy neck! Belovèd; can it beAll nothing, that this bosom cradled theeAnd fostered; all the weary nights, wherethroughI watched upon thy sickness, till I grewWasted with watching? Kiss me. This one time;Not ever again. Put up thine arms, and climbAbout my neck: now, kiss me, lips to lips....O, ye have found an anguish that outstripsAll tortures of the East, ye gentle Greeks!Why will ye slay this innocent, that seeksNo wrong?... O Helen, Helen, thou ill treeThat Tyndareus planted, who shall deem of theeAs child of Zeus? O, thou hast drawn thy breathFrom many fathers, Madness, Hate, red Death,And every rotting poison of the sky!Zeus knows thee not, thou vampire, draining dry.Greece and the world! God hate thee and destroy,That with those beautiful eyes hast blasted Troy,And made the far-famed plains a waste withal.Quick! take him: drag him: cast him from the wall,If cast ye will! Tear him, ye beasts, be swift!God hath undone me, and I cannot liftOne hand, one hand, to save my child from death....O, hide my head for shame: fling me beneathYour galleys' benches!...
[She swoons: then half-rising.
Quick: I must begoneTo the bridal.... I have lost my child, my own!
[The Soldiers close round her.
130Leader
O Troy ill-starred; for one strange woman, oneAbhorrèd kiss, how are thine hosts undone!
TALTHYBIUS (bending over ANDROMACHE and graduallytaking the Child from her).
Come, Child: let be that clasp of loveOutwearied! Walk thy ways with me,Up to the crested tower, aboveThy father's wall.... Where they decreeThy soul shall perish.--Hold him: hold!--Would God some other man might plyThese charges, one of duller mould,And nearer to the iron than I!
131Hecuba
O Child, they rob us of our own,Child of my Mighty One outworn:Ours, ours thou art!--Can aught be doneOf deeds, can aught of pain be borne,To aid thee?--Lo, this beaten head,This bleeding bosom! These I spreadAs gifts to thee. I can thus much.Woe, woe for Troy, and woe for thee!What fall yet lacketh, ere we touchThe last dead deep of misery?
[The Child, who has started back from TALTHYBIUS, is taken up by one of the Soldiers and borne back towards the city, while ANDROMACHE is set again on the Chariot and driven off towards the ships. TALTHYBIUS goes with the Child.
* * * * *
132Chorus
[Strophe I.
In Salamis, filled with the foamingOf billows and murmur of bees,Old Telamon stayed from his roaming,Long ago, on a throne of the seas;Looking out on the hills olive-laden,Enchanted, where first from the earthThe grey-gleaming fruit of the MaidenAthena had birth;A soft grey crown for a cityBelovèd a City of Light:Yet he rested not there, nor had pity,But went forth in his might,Where Heracles wandered, the lonelyBow-bearer, and lent him his handsFor the wrecking of one land only,Of Ilion, Ilion only,Most hated of lands!
[Antistrophe I.
Of the bravest of Hellas he made himA ship-folk, in wrath for the Steeds,And sailed the wide waters, and stayed himAt last amid Simoïs' reeds;And the oars beat slow in the river,And the long ropes held in the strand,And he felt for his bow and his quiver,The wrath of his hand.And the old king died; and the towersThat Phoebus had builded did fall,And his wrath, as a flame that devours,Ran red over all;And the fields and the woodlands lay blasted,Long ago. Yea, twice hath the SireUplifted his hand and downcast itOn the wall of the Dardan, downcast itAs a sword and as fire.
[Strophe 2.
In vain, all in vain,O thou 'mid the wine-jars goldenThat movest in delicate joy,Ganymêdês, child of Troy,The lips of the Highest drainThe cup in thine hand upholden:And thy mother, thy mother that bore thee,Is wasted with fire and torn;And the voice of her shores is heard,Wild, as the voice of a bird,For lovers and children before theeCrying, and mothers outworn.And the pools of thy bathing are perished,And the wind-strewn ways of thy feet:Yet thy face as aforetime is cherishedOf Zeus, and the breath of it sweet;Yea, the beauty of Calm is upon itIn houses at rest and afar.But thy land, He hath wrecked and o'erthrown itIn the wailing of war.
[Antistrophe 2.
O Love, ancient Love,Of old to the Dardan given;Love of the Lords of the Sky;How didst thou lift us highIn Ilion, yea, and aboveAll cities, as wed with heaven!For Zeus--O leave it unspoken:But alas for the love of the Morn;Morn of the milk-white wing,The gentle, the earth-loving,That shineth on battlements brokenIn Troy, and a people forlorn!And, lo, in her bowers Tithônus,Our brother, yet sleeps as of old:O, she too hath loved us and known us,And the Steeds of her star, flashing gold,Stooped hither and bore him above us;Then blessed we the Gods in our joy.But all that made them to love usHath perished from Troy.
* * * * *
[As the song ceases, the King MENELAUS enters, richly armed and followed by a bodyguard of Soldiers. He is a prey to violent and conflicting emotions.
MENELAUS.
How bright the face of heaven, and how sweetThe air this day, that layeth at my feetThe woman that I.... Nay: 'twas not for herI came. 'Twas for the man, the cozenerAnd thief, that ate with me and stole awayMy bride. But Paris lieth, this long day,By God's grace, under the horse-hoofs of the Greek,And round him all his land. And now I seek....Curse her! I scarce can speak the name she bears,That was my wife. Here with the prisonersThey keep her, in these huts, among the hordesOf numbered slaves.--The host whose labouring swordsWon her, have given her up to me, to fillMy pleasure; perchance kill her, or not kill,But lead her home.--Methinks I have foregoneThe slaying of Helen here in Ilion....Over the long seas I will bear her back,And there, there, cast her out to whatso wrackOf angry death they may devise, who knowTheir dearest dead for her in Ilion.--Ho!Ye soldiers! Up into the chambers whereShe croucheth! Grip the long blood-reeking hair,And drag her to mine eyes ... [Controlling himself.And when there comeFair breezes, my long ships shall bear her home.[The Soldiers go to force open the door of the second hut on the left.
133Hecuba
Thou deep Base of the World, and thou high ThroneAbove the World, whoe'er thou art, unknownAnd hard of surmise, Chain of Things that be,Or Reason of our Reason; God, to theeI lift my praise, seeing the silent roadThat bringeth justice ere the end be trodTo all that breathes and dies.
134Menelaus (turning)
Ha! who is thereThat prayeth heaven, and in so strange a prayer?
135Hecuba
I bless thee, Menelaus, I bless thee,If thou wilt slay her! Only fear to seeHer visage, lest she snare thee and thou fall!She snareth strong men's eyes; she snareth tallCities; and fire from out her eateth upHouses. Such magic hath she, as a cupOf death!... Do I not know her? Yea, and thou,And these that lie around, do they not know?[The Soldiers return from the hut and stand aside to let HELEN passbetween them. She comes through them, gentle and unafraid; there is nodisorder in her raiment.
136Helen
King Menelaus, thy first deed might makeA woman fear. Into my chamber brakeThine armèd men, and lead me wrathfully.Methinks, almost, I know thou hatest me.Yet I would ask thee, what decree is goneForth for my life or death?
137Menelaus (struggling with his emotion)
There was not oneThat scrupled for thee. All, all with one willGave thee to me, whom thou hast wronged, to kill!
138Helen
And is it granted that I speak, or no,In answer to them ere I die, to showI die most wronged and innocent?
139Menelaus
I seekTo kill thee, woman; not to hear thee speak!
140Hecuba
O hear her! She must never die unheard,King Menelaus! And give me the wordTo speak in answer! All the wrong she wroughtAway from thee, in Troy, thou knowest not.The whole tale set together is a deathToo sure; she shall not 'scape thee!
141Menelaus
'Tis but breathAnd time. For thy sake, Hecuba, if she needTo speak, I grant the prayer. I have no heedNor mercy--let her know it well--for her!
142Helen
It may be that, how false or true soe'erThou deem me, I shall win no word from thee.So sore thou holdest me thine enemy.Yet I will take what words I think thy heartHoldeth of anger: and in even partSet my wrong and thy wrong, and all that fell.
[Pointing to HECUBA.
She cometh first, who bare the seed and wellOf springing sorrow, when to life she broughtParis: and that old King, who quenched notQuick in the spark, ere yet he woke to slay,The fire-brand's image.--But enough: a dayCame, and this Paris judged beneath the treesThree Crowns of Life, three diverse Goddesses.The gift of Pallas was of War, to leadHis East in conquering battles, and make bleedThe hearths of Hellas. Hera held a Throne--If majesties he craved--to reign aloneFrom Phrygia to the last realm of the West.And Cypris, if he deemed her loveliest,Beyond all heaven, made dreams about my faceAnd for her grace gave me. And, lo! her graceWas judged the fairest, and she stood aboveThose twain.--Thus was I loved, and thus myloveHath holpen Hellas. No fierce Eastern crownIs o'er your lands, no spear hath cast them down.O, it was well for Hellas! But for meMost ill; caught up and sold across the seaFor this my beauty; yea, dishonourèdFor that which else had been about my headA crown of honour.... Ah, I see thy thought;The first plain deed, 'tis that I answer not,How in the dark out of thy house I fled....There came the Seed of Fire, this woman's seed;Came--O, a Goddess great walked with him then--This Alexander, Breaker-down-of-Men,This Paris, Strength-is-with-him; whom thou,whom--O false and light of heart--thou in thy roomDidst leave, and spreadest sail for Cretan seas,Far, far from me!... And yet, how strange it is!I ask not thee; I ask my own sad thought,What was there in my heart, that I forgotMy home and land and all I loved, to flyWith a strange man? Surely it was not I,But Cypris, there! Lay thou thy rod on her,And be more high than Zeus and bitterer,Who o'er all other spirits hath his throne,But knows her chain must bind him. My wrong doneHath its own pardon....
One word yet thou hast,Methinks, of righteous seeming. When at lastThe earth for Paris oped and all was o'er,And her strange magic bound my feet no more,Why kept I still his house, why fled not ITo the Argive ships?... Ah, how I strove to fly!The old Gate-Warden could have told thee all,My husband, and the watchers from the wall;It was not once they took me, with the ropeTied, and this body swung in the air, to gropeIts way toward thee, from that dim battlement.Ah, husband still, how shall thy hand be bentTo slay me? Nay, if Right be come at last,What shalt thou bring but comfort for pains past,And harbour for a woman storm-driven:A woman borne away by violent men:And this one birthright of my beauty, thisThat might have been my glory, lo, it isA stamp that God hath burned, of slavery!Alas! and if thou cravest still to beAs one set above gods, inviolate,'Tis but a fruitless longing holds thee yet.
143Leader
O Queen, think of thy children and thy land,And break her spell! The sweet soft speech, thehandAnd heart so fell: it maketh me afraid.
144Hecuba
Meseems her goddesses first cry mine aidAgainst these lying lips!... Not Hera, nay,Nor virgin Pallas deem I such low clay,To barter their own folk, Argos and braveAthens, to be trod down, the Phrygian's slave,All for vain glory and a shepherd's prizeOn Ida! Wherefore should great Hera's eyesSo hunger to be fair? She doth not useTo seek for other loves, being wed with Zeus.And maiden Pallas ... did some strange god's faceBeguile her, that she craved for loveliness,Who chose from God one virgin gift aboveAll gifts, and fleeth from the lips of love?Ah, deck not out thine own heart's evil springsBy making spirits of heaven as brutish thingsAnd cruel. The wise may hear thee, and guess all!And Cypris must take ship-fantastical!Sail with my son and enter at the gateTo seek thee! Had she willed it, she had sateAt peace in heaven, and wafted thee, and allAmyclae with thee, under Ilion's wall.My son was passing beautiful, beyondHis peers; and thine own heart, that saw and connedHis face, became a spirit enchanting thee.For all wild things that in mortalityHave being, are Aphroditê; and the nameShe bears in heaven is born and writ of them.Thou sawest him in gold and orient vestShining, and lo, a fire about thy breastLeapt! Thou hadst fed upon such little things,Pacing thy ways in Argos. But now wingsWere come! Once free from Sparta, and there rolledThe Ilian glory, like broad streams of gold,To steep thine arms and splash the towers! Howsmall,How cold that day was Menelaus' hall!Enough of that. It was by force my sonTook thee, thou sayst, and striving.... Yet not oneIn Sparta knew! No cry, no sudden prayerRang from thy rooms that night.... Castor was thereTo hear thee, and his brother: both true men,Not yet among the stars! And after, whenThou camest here to Troy, and in thy trackArgos and all its anguish and the rackOf war--Ah God!--perchance men told thee 'NowThe Greek prevails in battle': then wouldst thouPraise Menelaus, that my son might smart,Striving with that old image in a heartUncertain still. Then Troy had victories:And this Greek was as naught! Alway thine eyesWatched Fortune's eyes, to follow hot where sheLed first. Thou wouldst not follow Honesty.Thy secret ropes, thy body swung to fallFar, like a desperate prisoner, from the wall!Who found thee so? When wast thou taken? Nay,Hadst thou no surer rope, no sudden wayOf the sword, that any woman honest-souledHad sought long since, loving her lord of old?Often and often did I charge thee; 'Go,My daughter; go thy ways. My sons will knowNew loves. I will give aid, and steal thee pastThe Argive watch. O give us peace at last,Us and our foes!' But out thy spirit criedAs at a bitter word. Thou hadst thy prideIn Alexander's house, and O, 'twas sweetTo hold proud Easterns bowing at thy feet.They were great things to thee!... And comest thounowForth, and hast decked thy bosom and thy brow,And breathest with thy lord the same blue air,Thou evil heart? Low, low, with ravaged hair,Rent raiment, and flesh shuddering, and within--O shame at last, not glory for thy sin;So face him if thou canst!... Lo, I have done.Be true, O King; let Hellas bear her crownOf Justice. Slay this woman, and upraiseThe law for evermore: she that betraysHer husband's bed, let her be judged and die.
145Leader
Be strong, O King; give judgment worthilyFor thee and thy great house. Shake off thy longReproach; not weak, but iron against the wrong!
146Menelaus
Thy thought doth walk with mine in one intent.'Tis sure; her heart was willing, when she wentForth to a stranger's bed. And all her fairTale of enchantment, 'tis a thing of air!...
[Turning furiously upon HELEN.
Out, woman! There be those that seek thee yetWith stones! Go, meet them. So shall thy long debtBe paid at last. And ere this night is o'erThy dead face shall dishonour me no more!
147Helen (kneeling before him and embracing him)
Behold, mine arms are wreathed about thy knees;Lay not upon my head the phantasiesOf Heaven. Remember all, and slay me not!
148Hecuba
Remember them she murdered, them that foughtBeside thee, and their children! Hear that prayer!
149Menelaus
Peace, agèd woman, peace! 'Tis not for her;She is as naught to me.(To the Soldiers) ... March on before,Ye ministers, and tend her to the shore ...And have some chambered galley set for her,Where she may sail the seas.
150Hecuba
If thou be there,I charge thee, let not her set foot therein!
151Menelaus
How? Shall the ship go heavier for her sin?
152Hecuba
A lover once, will alway love again.
153Menelaus
If that he loved be evil, he will fainHate it!... Howbeit, thy pleasure shall be done.Some other ship shall bear her, not mine own....Thou counsellest very well.... And when we comeTo Argos, then ... O then some pitiless doomWell-earned, black as her heart! One that shall bindOnce for all time the law on womankindOf faithfulness!... 'Twill be no easy thing,God knoweth. But the thought thereof shall flingA chill on the dreams of women, though they beWilder of wing and loathèd more than she!
[Exit, following HELEN, who is escorted by the Soldiers.
* * * * *
CHORUS.
[Some Women.]
[Strophe I.
And hast thou turned from the Altar of frankincense,And given to the Greek thy temple of Ilion?The flame of the cakes of corn, is it gone from hence,The myrrh on the air and the wreathèd towers gone?And Ida, dark Ida, where the wild ivy grows,The glens that run as rivers from the summer-broken snows,And the Rock, is it forgotten, where the first sunbeam glows,The lit house most holy of the Dawn?
EURIPIDES
[Others.]
[Antistrophe I.
The sacrifice is gone and the sound of joy,The dancing under the stars and the night-long prayer:The Golden Images and the Moons of Troy,The twelve Moons and the mighty names they bear:My heart, my heart crieth, O Lord Zeus on high,Were they all to thee as nothing, thou thronèd in the sky,Thronèd in the fire-cloud, where a City, near to die,Passeth in the wind and the flare?
[A Woman.]
[Strophe 2.
Dear one, O husband mine,Thou in the dim dominionsDriftest with waterless lips,Unburied; and me the shipsShall bear o'er the bitter brine,Storm-birds upon angry pinions,Where the towers of the Giants shineO'er Argos cloudily,And the riders ride by the sea.
[Others.]
And children still in the GateCrowd and cry,A multitude desolate,Voices that float and waitAs the tears run dry:'Mother, alone on the shoreThey drive me, far from thee:Lo, the dip of the oar,The black hull on the sea!Is it the Isle Immortal,Salamis, waits for me?Is it the Rock that broodsOver the sundered floodsOf Corinth, the ancient portalOf Pelops' sovranty?'
[A Woman.]
[Antistrophe 2.
Out in the waste of foam,Where rideth dark Menelaus,Come to us there, O whiteAnd jagged, with wild sea-lightAnd crashing of oar-blades, come,O thunder of God, and slay us:While our tears are wet for home,While out in the storm go we,Slaves of our enemy!
[Others.]
And, God, may Helen be there,With mirror of gold,Decking her face so fair,Girl-like; and hear, and stare,And turn death-cold:Never, ah, never moreThe hearth of her home to see,Nor sand of the Spartan shore,Nor tombs where her fathers be,Nor Athena's bronzen Dwelling,Nor the towers of PitanêFor her face was a dark desireUpon Greece, and shame like fire,And her dead are welling, welling,From red Simoïs to the sea!
* * * * *
[TALTHYBIUS, followed by one or two Soldiers and bearing the child ASTYANAX dead, is seen approaching.
154Leader
Ah, change on change! Yet each one racksThis land with evil manifold;Unhappy wives of Troy, behold,They bear the dead Astyanax,Our prince, whom bitter Greeks this hourHave hurled to death from Ilion's tower.
155Talthybius
One galley, Hecuba, there lingereth yet,Lapping the wave, to gather the last freightOf Pyrrhus' spoils for Thessaly. The chiefHimself long since hath parted, much in griefFor Pêleus' sake, his grandsire, whom, men say,Acastus, Pelias' son, in war arrayHath driven to exile. Loath enough beforeWas he to linger, and now goes the moreIn haste, bearing Andromache, his prize.'Tis she hath charmed these tears into mine eyes,Weeping her fatherland, as o'er the waveShe gazed, and speaking words to Hector's grave.Howbeit, she prayed us that due rites be doneFor burial of this babe, thine Hector's son,That now from Ilion's tower is fallen and dead.And, lo! this great bronze-fronted shield, the dreadOf many a Greek, that Hector held in fray,O never in God's name--so did she pray--Be this borne forth to hang in Pêleus' hallOr that dark bridal chamber, that the wallMay hurt her eyes; but here, in Troy o'erthrown,Instead of cedar wood and vaulted stone,Be this her child's last house.... And in thine handsShe bade me lay him, to be swathed in bandsOf death and garments, such as rest to theeIn these thy fallen fortunes; seeing that sheHath gone her ways, and, for her master's haste,May no more fold the babe unto his rest.Howbeit, so soon as he is garlandedAnd robed, we will heap earth above his headAnd lift our sails.... See all be swiftly done,As thou art bidden. I have saved thee oneLabour. For as I passed Scamander's streamHard by, I let the waters run on him,And cleansed his wounds.--See, I will go forth nowAnd break the hard earth for his grave: so thouAnd I will haste together, to set freeOur oars at last to beat the homeward sea!
[He goes out with his Soldiers, leaving the body of the Child in HECUBA'S arms.
156Hecuba
Set the great orb of Hector's shield to lieHere on the ground. 'Tis bitter that mine eyeShould see it.... O ye Argives, was your spearKeen, and your hearts so low and cold, to fearThis babe? 'Twas a strange murder for bravemen!For fear this babe some day might raise againHis fallen land! Had ye so little pride?While Hector fought, and thousands at his side,Ye smote us, and we perished; and now, now,When all are dead and Ilion lieth low,Ye dread this innocent! I deem it notWisdom, that rage of fear that hath no thought....Ah, what a death hath found thee, little one!Hadst thou but fallen fighting, hadst thou knownStrong youth and love and all the majestyOf godlike kings, then had we spoken of theeAs of one blessed ... could in any wiseThese days know blessedness. But now thine eyesHave seen, thy lips have tasted, but thy soulNo knowledge had nor usage of the wholeRich life that lapt thee round.... Poor little child!Was it our ancient wall, the circuit piledBy loving Gods, so savagely hath rentThy curls, these little flowers innocentThat were thy mother's garden, where she laidHer kisses; here, just where the bone-edge frayedGrins white above--Ah heaven, I will not see!Ye tender arms, the same dear mould have yeAs his; how from the shoulder loose ye dropAnd weak! And dear proud lips, so full of hopeAnd closed for ever! What false words ye saidAt daybreak, when he crept into my bed,Called me kind names, and promised: 'Grandmother,When thou art dead, I will cut close my hairAnd lead out all the captains to ride byThy tomb.' Why didst thou cheat me so? 'Tis I,Old, homeless, childless, that for thee must shedCold tears, so young, so miserably dead.Dear God, the pattering welcomes of thy feet,The nursing in my lap; and O, the sweetFalling asleep together! All is gone.How should a poet carve the funeral stoneTo tell thy story true? 'There lieth hereA babe whom the Greeks feared, and in their fearSlew him.' Aye, Greece will bless the tale ittells!Child, they have left thee beggared of all elseIn Hector's house; but one thing shalt thou keep,This war-shield bronzen-barred, wherein to sleep.Alas, thou guardian true of Hector's fairLeft arm, how art thou masterless! And thereI see his handgrip printed on thy hold;And deep stains of the precious sweat, that rolledIn battle from the brows and beard of him,Drop after drop, are writ about thy rim.Go, bring them--such poor garments hazardousAs these days leave. God hath not granted usWherewith to make much pride. But all I can,I give thee, Child of Troy.--O vain is man,Who glorieth in his joy and hath no fears:While to and fro the chances of the yearsDance like an idiot in the wind! And noneBy any strength hath his own fortune won.
[During these lines several Women are seen approaching with garlands and raiment in their hands.
157Leader
Lo these, who bear thee raiment harvestedFrom Ilion's slain, to fold upon the dead.
[During the following scene HECUBA gradually takes the garments and wraps them about the Child.
158Hecuba
O not in pride for speeding of the carBeyond thy peers, not for the shaft of warTrue aimed, as Phrygians use; not any prizeOf joy for thee, nor splendour in men's eyes,Thy father's mother lays these offeringsAbout thee, from the many fragrant thingsThat were all thine of old. But now no more.One woman, loathed of God, hath broke the doorAnd robbed thy treasure-house, and thy warm breathMade cold, and trod thy people down to death!
159Chorus
[Some Women.]
Deep in the heart of meI feel thine hand,Mother: and is it heDead here, our prince to be,And lord of the land?
160Hecuba
Glory of Phrygian raiment, which my thoughtKept for thy bridal day with some far-soughtQueen of the East, folds thee for evermore.And thou, grey Mother, Mother-Shield that bore
THE TROJAN WOMEN
A thousand days of glory, thy last crownIs here.... Dear Hector's shield! Thou shalt liedownUndying with the dead, and lordlier thereThan all the gold Odysseus' breast can bear,The evil and the strong!
161Chorus
[Some Women.]
Child of the Shield-bearer,Alas, Hector's child!Great Earth, the All-mother,Taketh thee unto herWith wailing wild!
[Others. Mother of misery, Give Death his song!.]
(HEC. Woe!) Aye and bitterly
(HEC. Woe!) We too weep for thee,And the infinite wrong!
[During these lines HECUBA, kneeling by the body, has been performing a funeral rite, symbolically staunching the dead Child's wounds.
162Hecuba
I make thee whole;I bind thy wounds, O little vanished soul.This wound and this I heal with linen white:O emptiness of aid!... Yet let the riteBe spoken. This and.... Nay, not I, but he,Thy father far away shall comfort thee!
[She bows her head to the ground and remains motionless and unseeing.
163Chorus
Beat, beat thine head:Beat with the wailing chimeOf hands lifted in time:Beat and bleed for the dead.Woe is me for the dead!
164Hecuba
O Women! Ye, mine own....
[She rises bewildered, as though she had seen a vision.
165Leader
Hecuba, speak!Oh, ere thy bosom break....
166Hecuba
Lo, I have seen the open hand of God;And in it nothing, nothing, save the rodOf mine affliction, and the eternal hate,Beyond all lands, chosen and lifted greatFor Troy! Vain, vain were prayer and incense-swellAnd bulls' blood on the altars!... All is well.Had He not turned us in His hand, and thrustOur high things low and shook our hills as dust,We had not been this splendour, and our wrongAn everlasting music for the songOf earth and heaven!
Go, women: lay our deadIn his low sepulchre. He hath his meedOf robing. And, methinks, but little careToucheth the tomb, if they that moulder thereHave rich encerement. 'Tis we, 'tis we,That dream, we living and our vanity!
[The Women bear out the dead Child upon the shield, singing, when presently flames of fire and dim forms are seen among the ruins of the City.
167Chorus
[Some Women.]
Woe for the mother that bare thee, child,Thread so frail of a hope so high,That Time hath broken: and all men smiledAbout thy cradle, and, passing by,Spoke of thy father's majesty.Low, low, thou liest!
[Others.]
Ha! Who be these on the crested rock?Fiery hands in the dusk, and a shockOf torches flung! What lingereth still,O wounded City, of unknown ill,Ere yet thou diest?
168Talthybius (coming out through the ruined Wall)
Ye Captains that have charge to wreck this keepOf Priam's City, let your torches sleepNo more! Up, fling the fire into her heart!Then have we done with Ilion, and may partIn joy to Hellas from this evil land.And ye--so hath one word two faces--stand,Daughters of Troy, till on your ruined wallThe echo of my master's trumpet callIn signal breaks: then, forward to the sea,Where the long ships lie waiting.
And for thee,O ancient woman most unfortunate,Follow: Odysseus' men be here, and waitTo guide thee.... 'Tis to him thou go'st for thrall.
169Hecuba
Ah, me! and is it come, the end of all,The very crest and summit of my days?I go forth from my land, and all its waysAre filled with fire! Bear me, O aged feet,A little nearer: I must gaze, and greetMy poor town ere she fall.
Farewell, farewell!O thou whose breath was mighty on the swellOf orient winds, my Troy! Even thy nameShall soon be taken from thee. Lo, the flameHath thee, and we, thy children, pass awayTo slavery.... God! O God of mercy!... Nay:Why call I on the Gods? They know, they know,My prayers, and would not hear them long ago.Quick, to the flames! O, in thine agony,My Troy, mine own, take me to die with thee!
[She springs toward the flames, but is seized and held by the Soldiers.
170Talthybius
Back! Thou art drunken with thy miseries,Poor woman!--Hold her fast, men, till it pleaseOdysseus that she come. She was his lotChosen from all and portioned. Lose her not!
[He goes to watch over the burning of the City. The dusk deepens.
171Chorus
[Divers Women.]
Woe, woe, woe!Thou of the Ages, O wherefore fleëst thou,Lord of the Phrygian, Father that made us?'Tis we, thy children; shall no man aid us?'Tis we, thy children! Seëst thou, seëst thou?
[Others.]
He seëth, only his heart is pitiless;And the land dies: yea, she,She of the Mighty Cities perisheth citiless!Troy shall no more be!
[Others.]
Woe, woe, woe!Ilion shineth afar!Fire in the deeps thereof,Fire in the heights above,And crested walls of War!
[Others. As smoke on the wing of heaven Climbeth and scattereth, Torn of the spear and driven, The land crieth for death: O stormy battlements that red fire hath riven, And the sword's angry breath!.]
[A new thought comes to HECUBA; she kneels and beats the earth with her hands.
172Hecuba
[Strophe.
O Earth, Earth of my children; hearken! and Omine own,Ye have hearts and forget not, ye in the darknesslying!
173Leader
Now hast thou found thy prayer, crying to them thatare gone.
174Hecuba
Surely my knees are weary, but I kneel above yourhead;Hearken, O ye so silent! My hands beat your bed!
175Leader
I, I am near thee;I kneel to thy dead to hear thee,Kneel to mine own in the darkness; O husband, hearmy crying!
176Hecuba
Even as the beasts they drive, even as the loads theybear,
177Leader
(Pain; O pain!)
178Hecuba
We go to the house of bondage. Hear, ye dead, Ohear!
179Leader
(Go, and come not again!)
180Hecuba
Priam, mine own Priam,Lying so lowly,Thou in thy nothingness,Shelterless, comfortless,See'st thou the thing I am?Know'st thou my bitter stress?
181Leader
Nay, thou art naught to him!Out of the strife there came,Out of the noise and shame,Making his eyelids dim,Death, the Most Holy![The fire and smoke rise constantly higher.
182Hecuba
[Antistrophe. O high houses of Gods, beloved streets of my birth, Ye have found the way of the sword, the fiery and blood-red river!
183Leader
Fall, and men shall forget you! Ye shall lie in thegentle earth.
184Hecuba
The dust as smoke riseth; it spreadeth wide its wing;It maketh me as a shadow, and my City a vanishedthing!
185Leader
Out on the smoke she goeth,And her name no man knoweth;And the cloud is northward, southward; Troy is gonefor ever!
[A great crash is heard, and the Wall is lost in smoke and darkness.
186Hecuba
Ha! Marked ye? Heard ye? The crash of thetowers that fall!
187Leader
All is gone!
188Hecuba
Wrath in the earth and quaking and a flood thatsweepeth all,
189Leader
And passeth on![The Greek trumpet sounds.
190Hecuba
Farewell!--O spirit grey,Whatso is coming,Fail not from under me.Weak limbs, why tremble ye?Forth where the new long dayDawneth to slavery!
191Chorus
Farewell from parting lips,Farewell!--Come, I and thou,Whatso may wait us now,Forth to the long Greek shipsAnd the sea's foaming.
[The trumpet sounds again, and the Women go out in the darkness.