Part 3
Lo, yonder ships: I ne'er set foot on one, But tales and pictures tell, when over them Breaketh a storm not all too strong to stem, Each man strives hard, the tiller gripped, the mast Manned, the hull baled, to face it: till at last Too strong breaks the o'erwhelming sea: lo, then They cease, and yield them up as broken men To fate and the wild waters. Even so I 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 fell On Hector, sleep. Weep for him ne'er so well, Thy weeping shall not wake him. Honour thou The new lord that is set above thee now, And make of thine own gentle piety A prize to lure his heart. So shalt thou be A 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 aid For Ilion. So her stones may yet be laid One on another, if God will, and wrought Again to a city! Ah, how thought to thought Still beckons! . . . But what minion of the Greek Is this that cometh, with new words to speak?
[_Enter_ TALTHYBIUS _with a band of Soldiers_. _He comes forward slowly and with evident disquiet._
TALTHYBIUS.
Spouse of the noblest heart that beat in Troy, Andromache, hate me not! 'Tis not in joy I tell thee. But the people and the Kings Have with one voice . . .
ANDROMACHE.
What is it? Evil things Are on thy lips!
TALTHYBIUS.
'Tis ordered, this child . . . Oh, How can I tell her of it?
ANDROMACHE.
Doth he not go With me, to the same master?
TALTHYBIUS.
There is none In Greece, shall e'er be master of thy son.
ANDROMACHE.
How? Will they leave him here to build again The wreck? . . .
TALTHYBIUS.
I know not how to tell thee plain!
ANDROMACHE.
Thou hast a gentle heart . . . if it be ill, And not good, news thou hidest!
TALTHYBIUS.
'Tis their will Thy son shall die. . . . The whole vile thing is said Now!
ANDROMACHE.
Oh, I could have borne mine enemy's bed!
TALTHYBIUS.
And speaking in the council of the host Odysseus hath prevailed--
ANDROMACHE.
O lost! lost! lost! . . . Forgive me! It is not easy . . .
TALTHYBIUS.
. . . That the son Of one so perilous be not fostered on To manhood--
ANDROMACHE.
God; may his own counsel fall On his own sons!
TALTHYBIUS.
. . . But from this crested wall Of Troy be dashed, and die. . . . Nay, let the thing Be done. Thou shalt be wiser so. Nor cling So fiercely to him. Suffer as a brave Woman in bitter pain; nor think to have Strength which thou hast not. Look about thee here! Canst thou see help, or refuge anywhere? Thy land is fallen and thy lord, and thou A prisoner and alone, one woman; how Canst battle against us? For thine own good I would not have thee strive, nor make ill blood And shame about thee. . . . Ah, nor move thy lips In silence there, to cast upon the ships Thy curse! One word of evil to the host, This babe shall have no burial, but be tossed Naked. . . . Ah, peace! And bear as best thou may, War's fortune. So thou shalt not go thy way Leaving this child unburied; nor the Greek Be stern against thee, if thy heart be meek!
ANDROMACHE (_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 why They slay thee! Other children, like to die, Might have been spared for that. But on thy head His good is turned to evil. O thou bed And bridal; O the joining of the hand, That led me long ago to Hector's land To bear, O not a lamb for Grecian swords To slaughter, but a Prince o'er all the hordes Enthroned 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 tomb Riven to set thee free! Not one of all His brethren, nor the might of Ilion's wall. How shall it be? One horrible spring . . . deep, deep Down. And thy neck . . . Ah God, so cometh sleep! . . . And none to pity thee! . . . Thou little thing That curlest in my arms, what sweet scents cling All round thy neck! Beloved; can it be All nothing, that this bosom cradled thee And fostered; all the weary nights, wherethrough I watched upon thy sickness, till I grew Wasted with watching? Kiss me. This one time; Not ever again. Put up thine arms, and climb About my neck: now, kiss me, lips to lips. . . . O, ye have found an anguish that outstrips All tortures of the East, ye gentle Greeks! Why will ye slay this innocent, that seeks No wrong? . . . O Helen, Helen, thou ill tree That Tyndareus planted, who shall deem of thee As child of Zeus? O, thou hast drawn thy breath From 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 lift One hand, one hand, to save my child from death . . . O, hide my head for shame: fling me beneath Your galleys' benches! . . . [_She swoons: then half-rising._ Quick: I must begone To the bridal. . . . I have lost my child, my own! [_The soldiers close round her._
LEADER.
O Troy ill-starred; for one strange woman, one Abhorred kiss, how are thine hosts undone!
TALTHYBIUS (_bending over_ ANDROMACHE _and gradually taking the Child from her_).
Come, Child: let be that clasp of love Outwearied! Walk thy ways with me, Up to the crested tower, above Thy father's wall . . . where they decree Thy soul shall perish.--Hold him: hold!-- Would God some other man might ply These charges, one of duller mould, And nearer to the iron than I!
HECUBA.
O Child, they rob us of our own, Child of my Mighty One outworn: Ours, ours thou art!--Can aught be done Of deeds, can aught of pain be borne, To aid thee?--Lo, this beaten head, This bleeding bosom! These I spread As gifts to thee. I can thus much. Woe, woe for Troy, and woe for thee! What fall yet lacketh, ere we touch The 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_.
* * * * *
CHORUS.
[_Strophe_ 1. In Salamis, filled with the foaming Of 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 earth The grey-gleaming fruit of the Maiden Athena had birth; A soft grey crown for a city Beloved, a City of Light: Yet he rested not there, nor had pity, But went forth in his might, Where Heracles wandered, the lonely Bow-bearer, and lent him his hands For the wrecking of one land only, Of Ilion, Ilion only, Most hated of lands!
[_Antistrophe_ 1. Of the bravest of Hellas he made him A ship-folk, in wrath for the Steeds, And sailed the wide waters, and stayed him At last amid Simois' 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 towers That 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 Sire Uplifted his hand and downcast it On the wall of the Dardan, downcast it As a sword and as fire.
[_Strophe_ 2. In vain, all in vain, O thou 'mid the wine-jars golden That movest in delicate joy, Ganymedes, child of Troy, The lips of the Highest drain The 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 thee Crying, 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 cherished Of Zeus, and the breath of it sweet; Yea, the beauty of Calm is upon it In houses at rest and afar. But thy land, He hath wrecked and o'erthrown it In 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 high In Ilion, yea, and above All 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 broken In Troy, and a people forlorn! And, lo, in her bowers Tithonus, 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 us Hath 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 sweet The air this day, that layeth at my feet The woman that I . . . Nay: 'twas not for her I came. 'Twas for the man, the cozener And thief, that ate with me and stole away My 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 prisoners They keep her, in these huts, among the hordes Of numbered slaves.--The host whose labouring swords Won her, have given her up to me, to fill My pleasure; perchance kill her, or not kill, But lead her home.--Methinks I have foregone The slaying of Helen here in Ilion . . . Over the long seas I will bear her back, And there, there, cast her out to whatso wrack Of angry death they may devise, who know Their dearest dead for her in Ilion.--Ho! Ye soldiers! Up into the chambers where She croucheth! Grip the long blood-reeking hair, And drag her to mine eyes . . . [_Controlling himself._ And when there come Fair breezes, my long ships shall bear her home.
[_The Soldiers go to force open the door of the second hut on the left._
HECUBA.
Thou deep Base of the World, and thou high Throne Above the World, whoe'er thou art, unknown And hard of surmise, Chain of Things that be, Or Reason of our Reason; God, to thee I lift my praise, seeing the silent road That bringeth justice ere the end be trod To all that breathes and dies.
MENELAUS (_turning_).
Ha! who is there That prayeth heaven, and in so strange a prayer?
HECUBA.
I bless thee, Menelaus, I bless thee, If thou wilt slay her! Only fear to see Her visage, lest she snare thee and thou fall! She snareth strong men's eyes; she snareth tall Cities; and fire from out her eateth up Houses. Such magic hath she, as a cup Of 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 _between them. She comes through them, gentle and unafraid: there is no disorder in her raiment._
HELEN.
King Menelaus, thy first deed might make A woman fear. Into my chamber brake Thine armed men, and lead me wrathfully. Methinks, almost, I know thou hatest me. Yet I would ask thee, what decree is gone Forth for my life or death?
MENELAUS (_struggling with his emotion_).
There was not one That scrupled for thee. All, all with one will Gave thee to me, whom thou hast wronged, to kill!
HELEN.
And is it granted that I speak, or no, In answer to them ere I die, to show I die most wronged and innocent?
MENELAUS.
I seek To kill thee, woman; not to hear thee speak!
HECUBA.
O hear her! She must never die unheard, King Menelaus! And give me the word To speak in answer! All the wrong she wrought Away from thee, in Troy, thou knowest not. The whole tale set together is a death Too sure; she shall not 'scape thee!
MENELAUS.
'Tis but breath And time. For thy sake, Hecuba, if she need To speak, I grant the prayer. I have no heed Nor mercy--let her know it well--for her!
HELEN.
It may be that, how false or true soe'er Thou 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 heart Holdeth of anger: and in even part Set my wrong and thy wrong, and all that fell. [_Pointing to_ HECUBA. _She_ cometh first, who bare the seed and well Of springing sorrow, when to life she brought Paris: and that old King, who quenched not Quick in the spark, ere yet he woke to slay, The firebrand's image.--But enough: a day Came, and this Paris judged beneath the trees Three Crowns of Life, three diverse Goddesses. The gift of Pallas was of War, to lead His East in conquering battles, and make bleed The hearths of Hellas. Hera held a Throne-- If majesties he craved--to reign alone From Phrygia to the last realm of the West. And Cypris, if he deemed her loveliest, Beyond all heaven, made dreams about my face And for her grace gave me. And, lo! her grace Was judged the fairest, and she stood above Those twain.--Thus was I loved, and thus my love Hath holpen Hellas. No fierce Eastern crown Is o'er your lands, no spear hath cast them down. O, it was well for Hellas! But for me Most ill; caught up and sold across the sea For this my beauty; yea, dishonoured For that which else had been about my head A 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 room Didst 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 forgot My home and land and all I loved, to fly With 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 done Hath its own pardon. . . . One word yet thou hast, Methinks, of righteous seeming. When at last The 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 I To 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 rope Tied, and this body swung in the air, to grope Its way toward _thee_, from that dim battlement. Ah, husband still, how shall thy hand be bent To 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, this That might have been my glory, lo, it is A stamp that God hath burned, of slavery! Alas! and if thou cravest still to be As one set above gods, inviolate, 'Tis but a fruitless longing holds thee yet.
LEADER.
O Queen, think of thy children and thy land, And break her spell! The sweet soft speech, the hand And heart so fell: it maketh me afraid.
HECUBA.
Meseems her goddesses first cry mine aid Against these lying lips! . . . Not Hera, nay, Nor virgin Pallas deem I such low clay, To barter their own folk, Argos and brave Athens, to be trod down, the Phrygian's slave, All for vain glory and a shepherd's prize On Ida! Wherefore should great Hera's eyes So hunger to be fair? _She_ doth not use To seek for other loves, being wed with Zeus. And maiden Pallas . . . did some strange god's face Beguile her, that she craved for loveliness, Who chose from God one virgin gift above All gifts, and fleeth from the lips of love? Ah, deck not out thine own heart's evil springs By making spirits of heaven as brutish things And cruel. The wise may hear thee, and guess all! And Cypris must take ship--fantastical! Sail with my son and enter at the gate To seek thee! Had she willed it, she had sate At peace in heaven, and wafted thee, and all Amyclae with thee, under Ilion's wall. My son was passing beautiful, beyond His peers; and thine own heart, that saw and conned His face, became a spirit enchanting thee. For all wild things that in mortality Have being, are Aphrodite; and the name She bears in heaven is born and writ of them. Thou sawest him in gold and orient vest Shining, and lo, a fire about thy breast Leapt! Thou hadst fed upon such little things, Pacing thy ways in Argos. But now wings Were come! Once free from Sparta, and there rolled The Ilian glory, like broad streams of gold, To steep thine arms and splash the towers! How small, How cold that day was Menelaus' hall! Enough of that. It was by force my son Took thee, thou sayst, and striving. . . . Yet not one In Sparta knew! No cry, no sudden prayer Rang from thy rooms that night. . . . Castor was there To hear thee, and his brother: both true men, Not yet among the stars! And after, when Thou camest here to Troy, and in thy track Argos and all its anguish and the rack Of war--Ah God!--perchance men told thee 'Now The Greek prevails in battle': then wouldst thou Praise Menelaus, that my son might smart, Striving with that old image in a heart Uncertain still. Then Troy had victories: And this Greek was as naught! Alway thine eyes Watched Fortune's eyes, to follow hot where she Led first. Thou wouldst not follow Honesty. Thy secret ropes, thy body swung to fall Far, like a desperate prisoner, from the wall! Who found thee so? When wast thou taken? Nay, Hadst thou no surer rope, no sudden way Of the sword, that any woman honest-souled Had sought long since, loving her lord of old? Often and often did I charge thee; 'Go, My daughter; go thy ways. My sons will know New loves. I will give aid, and steal thee past The Argive watch. O give us peace at last, Us and our foes!' But out thy spirit cried As at a bitter word. Thou hadst thy pride In Alexander's house, and O, 'twas sweet To hold proud Easterns bowing at thy feet. They were great things to thee! . . . And comest thou now Forth, 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 crown Of Justice. Slay this woman, and upraise The law for evermore: she that betrays Her husband's bed, let her be judged and die.
LEADER.
Be strong, O King; give judgment worthily For thee and thy great house. Shake off thy long Reproach; not weak, but iron against the wrong!
MENELAUS.
Thy thought doth walk with mine in one intent. 'Tis sure; her heart was willing, when she went Forth to a stranger's bed. And all her fair Tale of enchantment, 'tis a thing of air! . . . [_Turning furiously upon_ HELEN. Out, woman! There be those that seek thee yet With stones! Go, meet them. So shall thy long debt Be paid at last. And ere this night is o'er Thy dead face shall dishonour me no more!
HELEN (_kneeling before him and embracing him_).
Behold, mine arms are wreathed about thy knees; Lay not upon my head the phantasies Of Heaven. Remember all, and slay me not!
HECUBA.
Remember them she murdered, them that fought Beside thee, and their children! Hear that prayer!
MENELAUS.
Peace, aged 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.
HECUBA.
If _thou_ be there, I charge thee, let not her set foot therein!
MENELAUS.
How? Shall the ship go heavier for her sin?
HECUBA.
A lover once, will alway love again.
MENELAUS.
If that he loved be evil, he will fain Hate it! . . . Howbeit, thy pleasure shall be done. Some other ship shall bear her, not mine own. . . . Thou counsellest very well . . . And when we come To Argos, then . . . O then some pitiless doom Well-earned, black as her heart! One that shall bind Once for all time the law on womankind Of faithfulness! . . . 'Twill be no easy thing, God knoweth. But the thought thereof shall fling A chill on the dreams of women, though they be Wilder of wing and loathed more than she!
[_Exit, following_ HELEN, _who is escorted by the Soldiers_.
* * * * *
CHORUS.
_Some Women._