III.

Helen that sister to the sons of Jove, And Paris Ida’s swain, With my curses still pursuing, For to them I owe my ruin, Me they from my country drove, Never to return again, By that detested spousal rite On which Hymen never smiled, No, ’twas some demon who with lewd delight Their frantic souls beguiled: Her may ocean’s waves no more Waft to her paternal shore.

POLYMESTOR, HECUBA, CHORUS.

POLYM. For thee, O Priam, my unhappy friend, And you, my dearest Hecuba, I weep, Beholding your distress, your city taken, Your daughter newly slain: alas! there’s nought To be relied on; fame is insecure, Nor can the prosperous their enjoyments guard Against a change of Fortune, for the gods Backward and forward turn her wavering wheel, And introduce confusion in the world, That we, because we know not will happen, May worship them. But of what use are plaints Which have no virtue to remove our woes? If you my absence censure, be appeased, For in the midst of Thracia’s wide domains I from these coasts was distant at the time Of your arrival: soon as I returned, When from the palace I was issuing forth, This your attendant met me, and delivered The message, hearing which, I hither came.

HEC. O Polymestor, wretched as I am, I blush to see thy face; because thou erst In happier days didst know me, I with shame Appear before thee in my present fortunes. Nor can I look at thee with steadfast eyes: But this thou wilt not deem to be a mark Of enmity: the cause of such behaviour Is only custom, which forbids our sex To gaze on men.

POLYM. No wonder you thus act Under such circumstances. But what need Have you of me, and wherefore did you send To fetch me from the palace?

HEC. I in private A secret of importance would disclose To thee and to thy children. From these tents Give orders for thy followers to depart.

POLYM. [_to his attendants, who retire_.] Withdraw; this solitary spot is safe. For you and the confederate Grecian host Are all attached to me. But ’tis incumbent On you t’ inform me what my prosperous fortunes Can yield to succour my unhappy friends! For this is what I wish to do.

HEC. Say first, If he, my son, whom this maternal hand And his fond father in thy mansions placed, My Polydore, yet live. I’ll then pursue My questions.

POLYM. Yes, in him you still are blest.

HEC. How kind, how worthy of thyself that speech, My dearest friend!

POLYM. What farther would you know?

HEC. If haply yet the youth remember aught Of me his mother.

POLYM. Much he wished to come And visit you in private.

HEC. Is the gold He brought from Troy preserved?

POLYM. I keep it safe In my own palace.

HEC. Keep it if thou wilt: But covet not the treasures of thy friends.

POLYM. I do not covet them; my utmost wish Is to enjoy, O woman, what I have.

HEC. Know’st thou then, what to thee and to thy sons I want to say?

POLYM. I know not; till in words Your thoughts are signified.

HEC. Bestow such love On Polydore as thou receiv’st from me.

POLYM. What is it that to me and to my children You would disclose?

HEC. The spot, where deep in earth, The ancient treasures of all Priam’s house Lie buried.

POLYM. Is this secret what you wish Should to your son be mentioned?

HEC. Yes, by thee, Because thou art a virtuous man!

POLYM. But wherefore Did you require these children should be present?

HEC. For them to know the secret, if thou die, Will be of great advantage.

POLYM. You have spoken Well and discreetly.

HEC. Know’st thou where at Troy Minerva’s temple stands?

POLYM. Is the gold there? But by what mark shall I the spot distinguish?

HEC. Above the surface rises a black stone.

POLYM. Will you describe the place yet more minutely?

HEC. The gold I in thy custody would place, Which I from Ilion hither bring.

POLYM. Where is it? Concealed beneath your garment?

HEC. ’Midst a heap Of spoils laid up within yon tents.

POLYM. Where mean you? These are the Grecian mariners’ abode.

HEC. In separate dwellings have they placed the captives?

POLYM. But how can we rely upon the faith Of those within? doth no man thither come?

HEC. There’s not a Greek within; we are alone: But enter thou these doors: for now the host, Impatient to weigh anchor, would return From Ilion to their homes. Thou with thy children T’ accomplish all the dread behests of fate, Shalt thither go where thou hast lodged my son.

[_Exeunt_ HECUBA _and_ POLYMESTOR.

CHOR. Thou hast not yet received the blow, But justice sure will lay thee low. Like him who headlong from on high Falls where no friendly haven’s nigh, Into the ocean’s stormy wave, Here shalt thou find a certain grave: For twofold ruin doth impend O’er him who human laws pursue, And righteous gods indignant view: Thee shall the hope of gain mislead, Which prompts thee to advance with speed, And Pluto’s loathed abode descend: Soon shalt thou press th’ ensanguined strand, Slain by a woman’s feeble hand.

POLYM. [_within._] Ah me, the light that visited these eyes is darkened.

SEMICHOR. Heard ye, O my friends, the shriek Of yonder Thracian?

POLYM. [_within._] Yet again, alas, My children’s foul and execrable murder!

SEMICHOR. My friends, some recent mischief hath within Been perpetrated.

POLYM. [_within._] Though your feet are swift, Ye shall not ’scape, for through the walls I’ll burst My passage.

SEMICHOR. With a forceful hand, behold He brandishes the javelin. Shall we rush To seize him? This important crisis bids us Assist our queen and Phrygia’s valiant dames.

HEC. Now do thy worst, and from their hinges rend Yon massive gates; no more canst thou impart To those lost eyes their visual orbs, nor see Thy sons, whom I have slain, to life restored.

HECUBA, CHORUS.

CHOR. Hast thou, my honoured mistress, caught the Thracian, Over this treacherous friend hast thou prevailed, And all thy threats accomplished?

HEC. Ye shall see him Before the tent, without delay, deprived Of sight, advancing with unsteady foot, And the two breathless corses of his sons, Whom I, assisted by the noblest matrons Of Troy, have slain. Th’ atonement he hath paid To my revenge, is just. But now behold He issues forth: I will retire and shun The Thracian chief’s unconquerable rage.

POLYMESTOR, HECUBA, CHORUS.

POLYM. Ah, whither am I going? wretched me! Where am I? what supports me? With these hands Groping my way like some four-footed beast, How shall I turn me, to the right or left, That I those murderous Phrygian dames may seize Who have destroyed me? Impious and accurst Daughters of Ilion, in what dark recess Do they escape me? Would to heaven, O Sun, Thou to these bleeding eyeballs could’st afford A cure, that thou my blindness could’st remove. But hush, I hear those women’s cautious tread. How shall I leap upon them? with their flesh How shall I glut my rage, and for a feast To hungry tigers cast their mangled bones, In just requital of the horrid wrongs, Which I from them, ah wretched me, have suffered? But whither, by what impulse am I borne, Leaving the corses of my sons exposed To hellish Bacchanalians, as they lie Torn by the dogs, and on the mountain’s ridge Cast forth unburied! Where shall I stand still? Or whither shall I go? Like some proud bark Towed into harbour, which contracts its sails; I to that fatal chamber which contains The corses of my murdered sons rush onward With speed involuntary.

CHOR. Hapless man, How art thou visited by woes too grievous To be endured! but by dread Jove thy foe, On him whose deeds are base, it is ordained That the severest punishments await.

POLYM. Rouse, O ye Thracians, armed with ponderous spears, Arrayed in mail, for generous steeds renowned, A hardy race, whom Mars himself inspires. To you, O Grecian troops, and both the sons Of Atreus, I with clamorous voice appeal: Come hither, I implore you by the gods. Do any of you hear me? Is there none Who will assist? Why loiter ye? Those women, Those captives have destroyed me. Horrid wrongs Have I endured; ah me, the foul reproach! But whither shall I turn, or whither go? Through the aërial regions shall I wing My swift career to that sublime abode Where Sirius or Orion from his eyes Darts radiant flames? or, to perdition doomed, Shall I descend to Pluto’s sable flood?

CHOR. He merits pardon, whosoe’er assailed By ills too grievous to be borne, shakes off The loathed encumbrance of a wretched life.

AGAMEMNON, POLYMESTOR, HECUBA, CHORUS.

AGA. Hearing thy shrieks I came. For Echo, child Of craggy mountains, in no gentle note Wafted those sounds tumultuous through the host. Had we not known that by the Grecian spear The towers of vanquished Phrygia are o’erthrown, Such uproar would have caused no small alarm.

POLYM. My dearest friend, soon as I heard your voice, I instantly perceived ’twas Agamemnon. See you my sufferings?

AGA. Wretched Polymestor! Who hath destroyed thee? who bereaved of sight Thy bleeding orbs, and those thy children slew? Whoe’er the author of such deeds, his rage Was dreadful sure ’gainst thee and ’gainst thy sons.

POLYM. With the assistance of those captive dames, Me Hecuba hath murdered, more than murdered.

AGA. What mean’st thou? Are you guilty of the crime With which he charges you? and have you dared To perpetrate an action thus audacious?

POLYM. Ah me! what said you? Is she near at hand? Inform me where to find, that I may seize her, And scatter wide to all the fowls of heaven Her mangled corse.

AGA. Ha! what is thy design?

POLYM. Allow me, I conjure you by the gods, To grasp her with this frantic arm.

AGA. Desist, And casting forth all rancour from thy heart, Now plead thy cause; that, hearing both apart, I with unbiassed justice may decide, If thou these sufferings merit’st.

POLYM. I will speak. There was one Polydore, the youngest son Of those whom Hecuba to Priam bore; Him erst removing from the Phrygian realm, His sire to me consigned, that in my palace He might be nurtured, when that hoary king The fall of Troy suspected: him I slew: But hear my motives for the deed, to prove How justly and how prudently I acted. Your enemy, that boy, if he survived The ruin of his country, might, I feared, Collect the scattered citizens of Troy, And there again reside. I also feared, That when the Greeks knew one of Priam’s line Was living, with a second fleet invading The shores of Phrygia, they again might drain Of their inhabitants our Thracian fields, Involving us, their neighbours, in the vengeance They on their foes at Ilion wreak. To us Already hath such neighbourhood, O king, Proved baneful. But, apprized of her son’s fate, Hecuba drew me hither, on pretence She would inform me where in massive gold The hidden treasures of old Priam’s race Beneath Troy’s ruins were secured. Alone, She with my children brought me to this tent, That none beside might know. With bended knee, While on a couch I sat, some on my left, And others on my right, as with a friend, Full many of the Trojan damsels took Their places, holding up against the sun My robe, the woof of an Edonian loom: Some feigned t’ admire it, others viewed my spear, And stripped me of them both. From hand to hand The matrons, seeming to caress my children, Removed them far from their unhappy sire: And after their fond speeches, in an instant, (Could you believe it?) snatching up the swords, Which they beneath their garments had concealed, They stabbed my sons, whom while I strove to aid, In hostile guise their comrades held my arms And feet: if I looked up, they by the hair Confined me; if I moved my hands, my struggles Proved ineffectual, through the numerous band Of women who assailed me, and to close The scene of my calamity, accomplished A deed with more than common horror fraught, For they tore out my bleeding eyes, and fled. But, like a tiger starting up, I chased These ruthless fiends, and with a hunter’s speed Each wall examined, dashing to the ground, And breaking what I seized. These cruel wrongs, While I your interests study to maintain, O Agamemnon, and despatch your foe, Have I endured. To spare a long harangue, The whole of what ’gainst woman hath been said By those of ancient times, is saying now, Or shall be said hereafter, in few words Will I comprise; nor ocean’s waves, nor earth, Nurture so vile a race, as he who most Hath with the sex conversed, but knows too well.

CHOR. Curb that audacious virulence of speech, Nor, by thy woes embittered, thus revile All womankind; the number of our sex Is great, and some there are, whom as a mark To envy, their distinguished worth holds forth, Though some are justly numbered with the wicked.

HEC. O Agamemnon, never ought the tongue To have a greater influence o’er mankind Than actions; but whoever hath done well, Ought to speak well; and he, whose deeds are base, To use unseemly language, nor find means By specious words to colour o’er injustice. Full wise indeed are they to whom such art Is most familiar: but to stand the test Of time not wise enough; for they all perish, Not one of them e’er ’scapes. These previous thoughts To you, O mighty king, have I addressed. But now to him I turn, and will refute The fallacies he uttered. What pretence Hast thou for saying, that to free the Greeks From such a second war, and for the sake Of Agamemnon, thou didst slay my son? For first, O villain, the barbarian race With Greece, nor will, nor ever can be friends. What interest roused thy zeal? Didst thou expect To form a nuptial union? Wert thou moved By kindred ties, or any secret cause? Greece with a fleet forsooth would have returned To lay thy country waste. Who, canst thou think, Will credit such assertions? If the truth Thou wilt confess, gold and thy thirst of gain Were my son’s murderers. Why, when Troy yet flourished, Why, when the city was on every side Fenced by strong bulwarks, why, when Priam lived, And Hector wielded a victorious spear, Didst thou not, if thou hadst designed to act In Agamemnon’s favour, at the time When thou didst nurture my unhappy son, And in thy palace shelter, either slay, Or to the Greeks surrender up the youth A living prisoner? But when Ilion’s light Was utterly extinguished, when the smoke Declared the city subject to our foes, The stranger thou didst murder, at thy hearth Who sought protection. To confirm thy guilt, Now hear this farther charge: if thou to Greece Hadst been a friend indeed, thou should’st have given The gold thou say’st thou keep’st, not for thine own, But Agamemnon’s sake, among the troops Who suffer want, and from their native land Have for a tedious season been detained. But thou from those rapacious hands e’en now Canst not endure to part with it, but hoard’st it Still buried in thy coffers: as became thee, Hadst thou trained up my son, hadst thou to him Been a protector, great is the renown Thou would’st have gained; for in distress the good Are steadfast; but our prosperous fortunes swarm With friends unbidden. Hadst thou been in want, And Polydore abounded, a sure treasure To thee would he have proved: but now no longer In him hast thou a friend; thou of thy gold Hast lost th’ enjoyment, thou thy sons hast lost, And art thyself thus wretched. But to you, O Agamemnon, now again I speak: If you assist him, you will seem corrupt; For you will benefit a man devoid Of honour, justice, piety, or truth; It might be said that you delight in evil; But, I presume not to reproach my lords.

CHOR. How doth a virtuous cause inspire the tongue With virtuous language!

AGA. On a stranger’s woes Reluctant I pronounce, but am constrained; For shame attends the man who takes in hand Some great affair, and leaves it undecided. Know then, to me thou seem’st not to have slain Thy guest through an attachment to my cause, Nor yet to that of Greece, but that his gold Thou might’st retain: though in this wretched state Thou speak to serve thy interests. Among you Perhaps the murder of your guests seems light; We Greeks esteem it base. If I acquit thee How shall I ’scape reproach? Indeed I cannot: Since thou hast dared to perpetrate the crime, Endure the consequence.

POLYM. Too plain it seems, Ah me! that, vanquished by a female slave, Here shall I perish by ignoble hands.

HEC. Is not this just for the atrocious deed Which thou hast wrought?

POLYM. My children, wretched me! And these quenched orbs.

HEC. Griev’st thou, yet think’st thou not That I lament my son?

POLYM. Malignant woman, Do you rejoice in taunting my distress?

HEC. In such revenge have not I cause for joy?

POLYM. Yet not so hastily, when ocean’s wave——

HEC. Shall in a bark convey me to the shores Of Greece?

POLYM. Shall whelm you in its vast abyss Fall’n from the shrouds.

HEC. Raised thither by what impulse?

POLYM. Up the tall mast you with swift foot shall climb.

HEC. On feathered pinions borne, or how?

POLYM. With form Canine endued, and eyeballs glaring fire.

HEC. Whence didst thou learn that I such wondrous change Shall undergo?

POLYM. Bacchus, the Thracian seer, Gave this response.

HEC. To thee did he unfold Nought of the grievous sufferings thou endur’st?

POLYM. Then could you ne’er have caught me by your wiles.

HEC. But on this change of being, after death, Or while I yet am living, shall I enter?

POLYM. After your death, and men shall call your tomb——

HEC. By my new form, or what is it thou mean’st?

POLYM. The sepulchre of that vile brute, an object Conspicuous to the mariner.

HEC. I care not; My vengeance is complete.

POLYM. Cassandra too, Your daughter, must inevitably bleed.

HEC. Abomination! On thy guilty head These curses I retort.

POLYM. Her shall the wife Of Agamemnon slay, who sternly guards His royal mansion.

HEC. Such a frantic deed As this may Tyndarus’ daughter ne’er commit!

POLYM. She next uplifting the remorseless axe Shall smite her lord.

AGA. Ha! madman, dost thou court Thy ruin?

POLYM. Slay me; for the murderous bath Awaits you, when to Argos you return.

AGA. Will ye not drag him from my sight by force?

POLYM. Hear you with grief what I announce?

AGA. My followers, Why stop ye not the miscreant’s boding mouth?

POLYM. This mouth be closed for ever: I have spoken.

AGA. Will ye not cast him with the utmost speed Upon some desert island, since he dares To speak with such licentiousness? Depart, O wretched Hecuba, and both those corses Deposit in the grave. But, as for you, Ye to your lord’s pavilions must repair, O Phrygian dames: for I perceive the gales Rising to waft us homeward; may success Attend the voyage to our native land! And in our mansions may we find all well, Freed from these dangers!

CHOR. To the haven go, And to the tents, my friends, t’ endure the toils Our lords impose: for thus harsh fate enjoins.

HERCULES DISTRACTED.

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

AMPHITRYON. MEGARA. CHORUS OF THEBAN OLD MEN. HERCULES. LYCUS. IRIS. A FIEND. MESSENGER. THESEUS.

SCENE.—BEFORE THE ALTAR OF JUPITER, AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE HOUSE OF HERCULES IN THEBES.

AMPHITRYON, MEGARA.

AMP. Is there on earth, a stranger to the man Who shared the same auspicious nuptial bed With Jove, Amphitryon born at Argos, sprung From Perseus’ son Alcæus, me the sire Of Hercules? He in these regions dwelt, Where from the soil a helmed crop arose; Mars, a small number of that race, preserved, Whose children’s children people Cadmus’ city. Hence Creon king of Thebes, Menæceus’ son, Derives his birth, and Creon is the sire Of this unhappy Megara, to grace Whose hymeneal pomp, each Theban erst Attuned the jocund lute, into my house When Hercules conducted her. But leaving This realm where I resided, and his consort And kindred, my son chose to fix his seat Within the walls of Argos, of that city Erected by the Cyclops, whence I fled Stained with Electryon’s gore: but to alleviate My woes, and in his native land obtain A quiet residence, this great reward He on Eurystheus promised to bestow, That he would rid the world of every pest: Harassed by Juno’s stings, or envious fate, With her conspiring: but, his other labours Accomplished, he through Tænarus’ jaws at length Went to the house of Pluto, to drag forth Into the realms of day hell’s triple hound: He thence returns not. But an old tradition Among the race of Cadmus hath prevailed, That Lycus, Dirce’s husband, erst bore rule Over this city, till Jove’s sons, Amphion And Zethus, who on milk-white coursers rode, Became its sovereigns. Lycus’ son who bears His father’s name, no Theban, but arriving From the Eubœan state, slew royal Creon, And having slain him, seized the throne, invading The city with tumultuous broils convulsed. But the affinity which we have formed With Creon, seems to be my greatest curse: For while my son stays in the realms beneath, Lycus th’ egregious monarch of this land Would with the children of Alcides kill His consort, by fresh murders to extinguish The past, and kill me too (if one through age So useless may be numbered among men), Lest when the boys attain maturer age, They should avenge their grandsire Creon’s death. But I (for my son left me here to tend His children, and direct the house, since he Entered the subterraneous realms of night), With their afflicted mother, lest the race Of Hercules should bleed, for an asylum Have chosen this altar of protecting Jove, Which my illustrious son for a memorial Of his victorious arms did here erect, When he in battle had subdued the Minyans. But we, though destitute of every comfort, Of food, drink, clothing, though constrained to lie On the bare pavement, here maintain our seat, For every hospitable door is barred Against us, and we have no other hope Of being saved. Some of our friends I see Are faithless, and the few who prove sincere, Too weak to aid us. Such is the effect Of adverse fortune o’er the race of men; May he to whom I bear the least attachment, Never experience that unerring test Of friendship.

MEG. Thou old man, who erst didst storm The Taphian ramparts, when thou with renown Didst lead the host of Thebes; the secret will Of Heaven, how little can frail mortals know! For to me too of no avail have proved The fortunes of my father, who elate With wealth and regal power (whence at the breasts Of its possessors spears are hurled by those Whose souls the lust of mad ambition fires), And having children, gave me to thy son, Joining a noble consort in the bonds Of wedlock with Alcides, through whose death These blessings are all fled. Now I, and thou, Old man, are doomed to perish with the sons Of Hercules, whom, as the bird extends Her sheltering wings over her callow brood, I guard. By turns they come and question me: “O mother, whither is my father gone? What is he doing? when will he return?” Though now too young sufficiently to feel How great their loss, thus ask they for their sire. I change the theme, and forge a soothing tale, But am with wonder smitten when the doors Creak on their massive hinges, and at once They all start up, that at their father’s knees They may fall prostrate. But what hope hast thou Of saving us, or what support, old man? For I to thee look up. We from the bounds Of these domains unnoticed cannot ’scape; Mightier than us, a watchful guard is placed At every avenue, and in our friends No longer for protection can we trust. Explain thyself, if thou hast any scheme, By which thou from impending death canst save us; But let us strive to lengthen out the time, Since we are feeble.

AMP. ’Tis no easy task In such a situation, O my daughter, To form a sure and instantaneous judgment.

MEG. What is there wanting to complete thy woes, Or why art thou so fond of life?

AMP. That blessing I still enjoy, still cherish pleasing hopes.

MEG. I also hope, old man: but it is folly To look for what we never can attain.

AMP. We by delaying might avert our fate.

MEG. But I in this sad interval of time Feel piercing anguish.

AMP. The auspicious gales Of fortune, O my daughter, yet may waft Both you and me out of our present troubles, If e’er my son your valiant lord return. But O be pacified yourself, and cause Your children to dry up their streaming tears; With gentle language and delusive tales Beguile them, though all fraudful arts are wretched. For the disasters which afflict mankind Are wearied out; the stormy winds retain not Their undiminished force; nor are the blest Perpetually blest: for all things change, And widely differ from their former state. The valiant man is he who still holds fast His hopes; but to despair bespeaks the coward.

CHORUS, AMPHITRYON, MEGARA.

CHOR. Propped on my faithful staff, from home, And from the couch of palsied age, In melancholy guise I roam, Constrained to chaunt funereal strains, As the expiring swan complains, A war of words alone I wage, In semblance, but a flitting sprite, An airy vision of the night. I totter; yet doth active zeal This faithful bosom still inspire. Ye children who have lost your sire, Thou veteran, and thou aged dame, Doomed for thy lord these griefs to feel, Whose Pluto’s dreary mansions claim; O weary not your tender feet. Like steeds by galling harness bound, To turn the ponderous mill around, I would advance my friends to meet, Yet are my utmost efforts vain, This shattered frame I scarce sustain: Draw near, O take this trembling hand, And holding fast my robe, support My steps, thy needful aid I court, Because I am too weak to stand. Lead on the chief, though now by years Bowed down, who marshalled on the strand, His comrades erst a hardy band; With him in youth we launched our spears, Nor then belied our native land. See how their eyes dart liquid fire, Those children emulate their sire; But still hereditary fate, Pursues with unrelenting hate Their tender years, nor can their charms Redeem them from impending harms. What valiant champions of thy cause, O Greece, thy violated laws, When these thy great supports shall fail, Torn from thy fostering land wilt thou bewail. But I behold the monarch of the realm, Tyrannic Lycus, who these doors approaches.

LYCUS, AMPHITRYON, MEGARA, CHORUS.

LYC. This question (if I may) I to the sire And consort of Alcides would propose (But, as your king, I have a right to make Any inquiries I think fit): How long Seek ye to spin out life? What farther hope Have ye in view, what succour to ward off The stroke of death? Expect ye that the father Of these deserted children, who lies stretched Amid the realms beneath will thence return, That ye bely your rank, and meanly utter These clamorous plaints on being doomed to die? Through Greece hast _thou_ diffused an idle boast, That Jove enjoyed thy consort, and begot An offspring like himself; while _you_ exulted In being called wife to the first of heroes. But what great action hath your lord performed, In having slain that hydra at the lake, Or the Nemæan lion whom with snares He caught, and then did arrogantly boast That he had strangled in his nervous arms? Will these exploits enable you to vie With me? and for such merit am I bound To spare the sons of Hercules, who gained A name which he deserved not? He was brave In waging war with beasts, in nought beside, With his left hand he never did sustain The shield, nor faced he the protended spear, But with his bow, that weapon of a dastard, Was still prepared for flight: such arms afford No proof of courage; but the truly brave Is he who in the ranks where he is stationed Maintains his ground, and sees with steadfast eye Those ghastly wounds the missile javelin gives. Old man, I act not thus through cruelty, But caution; for I know that I have slain Creon _her_ father, and possess his throne. These children therefore will not I allow To live till they attain maturer years, Lest they should punish me for such a deed.

AMP. Jove will assert the cause of his own son. But as for me, O Hercules, my care Shall be to prove the folly of this tyrant: For thy illustrious name I will not suffer To be reproached. First from a hateful charge (And that of cowardice I deem most hateful), Calling the gods to witness, am I bound To vindicate thy honour. I appeal To Jove’s own thunder, and th’ impetuous steeds, Which drew Alcides’ chariot when he sped Those winged arrows to transpierce the flanks Of earth-born giants, and among the gods Triumphant revelled at the genial board. Go next to Pholoe’s realm, thou worst of kings, And ask the Centaurs’ monstrous brood, what man They judge to be most brave, whether that title Belongs not to my son, who only bears, As you assert, the semblance of a hero? But should you question the Eubœan mount Of Dirphys, where your infancy was nurtured, It cannot sound your praise: you have performed No glorious action for your native land To testify, yet scorn that wise invention The quiver fraught with shafts: attend to me And I will teach you wisdom. By his arms Encumbered, stands the warrior who is sheathed In ponderous mail, and through the fears of those Who fight in the same rank, if they want courage, Loses his life; nor, if his spear be broken, Furnished with nought but courage, from his breast Can he repel the wound; but he who bends With skilful hand the bow, hath this advantage, Which never fails him: with a thousand shafts He smites the foe, no danger to himself Incurring, but securely stands aloof, And wreaks his vengeance while they gaze around, Without perceiving whence the weapon comes: His person he exposes not, but takes A guarded post: for what in war displays The greatest prudence, is to vex the foe, Nor rush at random on their pointed spears. Such reasoning on the subject in debate With yours indeed agrees not: but what cause Have you for wishing to destroy these children? How have they injured you? In one respect I deem you wise, because you dread the race Of valiant men, and feel yourself a coward: Yet is it hard on us, if we must bleed Your apprehensions to remove; you ought To suffer all we would inflict, from us Whose merit is superior far to yours, Were Jove impartial. Would you therefore wield The sceptre of this land, let us depart As exiles from the realm, or you shall meet With strict retaliation, when the gales Of wavering fortune alter. O thou land Of Cadmus (for to thee I now will speak, But in reproachful accents), such protection Afford’st thou to the sons of Hercules, Who singly warring with the numerous host Of Minyæ, caused the Thebans to lift up Their free-born eyes undaunted? I on Greece No praises can bestow, nor will pass over In silence its base treatment of my son, For ’twas its duty in these children’s cause, Bearing flames, pointed spears, and glittering mail, To have marched forth, and recompensed the toils Of their great father, who hath purged the sea And land from all its monsters. Such protection Nor doth the Theban city, O my children, Nor Greece afford you; but ye now look up To me a feeble friend who can do nought, But plead for you with unavailing words. For all the vigour which I once possessed Hath now deserted me; old age assails My trembling limbs and this decrepit frame. Were I again endued with youthful strength, I would snatch up my javelin, and defile With gore the yellow ringlets on the head Of that oppressor, whom his fear should drive Beyond the most remote Atlantic bounds.

CHOR. Are there not causes such as may provoke Those who are virtuous to express their thoughts, Though destitute of eloquence?

LYC. ’Gainst me Speak what thou wilt, for thou art armed with words, But for injurious language by my deeds Will I requite thee. Go, send woodmen, some To Helicon, some to Parnassus’ vale, Bid them fell knotted oaks, and having borne them Into the city, heap their ponderous trunks Around the altar, and with kindled flames Consume the bodies of this hated race; So shall they learn that Creon the deceased No longer is the ruler of this land, But that I wield the sceptre. As for you Who thwart my counsels, O ye aged men, Not for the sons of Hercules alone Shall ye lament, but for those evil fortunes Which ye and your own house are doomed to suffer: But this shall ye remember, that to me, Your monarch, ye are slaves.

CHOR. O ye the race Of earth, whom Mars erst sowed, when he had torn From the huge dragon’s jaws th’ envenomed teeth, With those right hands why will ye not uplift The staves on which ye lean, and with his gore Defile the head of this unrighteous man, Not born at Thebes, but in a foreign realm, From inconsiderate youths who gains that homage Which he deserves not? but in evil hour O’er me shalt thou bear rule, nor shall my wealth Acquired by many toils be ever thine: Go, act the tyrant in Eubœa’s land, From whence thou hither cam’st: for while I live, The sons of Hercules thou ne’er shalt slay, Nor is their mighty father plunged so deep Beneath earth’s surface, that he cannot hear His children’s outcries. Thou to whom this land Owes its destruction dost possess the throne: But he its benefactor is deprived Of the rewards he merits. Me thou deem’st Officious, for protecting those I love E’en in the grave, where friends are needed most. O my right arm, how dost thou wish to wield The spear, but through enfeebling age hast lost Thy vigour: else would I have quelled thy pride Who dar’st to call me slave, and in this Thebes, Where thou exult’st, with glory dwelt. A city Diseased through mutiny and evil counsels Is void of wisdom, or would ne’er have chosen Thee for its lord.

MEG. Ye veterans, I applaud Your zeal; for indignation at the wrongs His friends endure becomes the virtuous friend. But let not anger ’gainst your lord expose you To suffer in our cause. My judgment hear, Amphitryon, if to thee in aught I seem To speak discreetly. I these children love (And how can I help loving those I bore?) For whom I have endured the painful throes Of childbirth. And to die is what I think of As of a thing most dreadful; but the man Who with necessity contends I hold An idiot. But let us, since die we must, Not perish in the flames to furnish scope Of laughter to our foes, which I esteem An ill beyond e’en death: for much is due To the unsullied honour of our house, For thee who erst in arms hast gained renown, To die with cowardice, were a reproach Not to be borne. My lord, though I forbear To dwell on his just praises, is so noble, He would not wish these children saved, to bear The imputation of an evil name: For through the conduct of degenerate sons Reproach oft falls on their illustrious sires; And the examples which my husband gave me, I ought not to reject. But view what grounds Thou hast for hope, that I of these may form A proper estimate. Dost thou expect Thy son to issue from the realms beneath? What chief deceased from Pluto’s loathed abode Did e’er return? Can we by gentle words Appease this tyrant? No: we ought to fly From fools who are our foes: but to the wise And generous yield; for we with greater ease May make a friend of him in whom we find A sense of virtuous shame. But to my soul This thought occurs, that we, the children’s sentence, By our entreaties, haply might obtain Converted into exile: yet this too Is wretched, at th’ expense of piteous need To compass our deliverance. For their friends Avoid the face of guests like these, and look No longer kindly on the banished man After one day is over. Rouse thy courage, And bleed with us, thee too, since death awaits. By thy great soul, O veteran, I conjure thee. Although the man who labours to repel Evils inflicted by Heaven’s wrath, is brave, Yet doth such courage border upon frenzy: For what the fates ordain, no god can frustrate.

CHOR. While yet these arms retained their youthful strength, Had any one insulted thee, with ease Could I have quelled him; but I now am nothing: On thee, Amphytrion, therefore ’tis incumbent To think how best thou may’st henceforth ward off Th’ assaults of fortune.

AMP. No unmanly fear, No wish to lengthen out this life, prevents My voluntary death: but I would save The children of my son, though I appear To grasp at things impossible. Behold I bare my bosom to the sword; pierce, slay, Or cast me from the rock. But I, O king, For this one favour sue to you; despatch Me and this hapless dame before the children, Lest them we view, most execrable sight, In death’s convulsive pangs, to her who bore them, And me their grandsire, shrieking out for aid. But as for all beside, do what you list, For we have now no bulwark which from death Can save us.

MEG. I entreat one favour more, Which to us both will equally be grateful. Permit me in funereal robes to dress My children; for that purpose be the gates Thrown open (for the palace now is closed Against us) that they from their father’s house This small advantage may obtain.

LYC. Your wishes Shall be complied with. I my servants bid Unbar the gates. Go in, bedeck yourselves; The costly robes I grudge not: but no sooner Shall ye have put them on, than I to you Will come, and plunge you in the shades beneath.

[_Exit_ LYCUS.

MEG. Follow your hapless mother, O my children, To your paternal house, where, though our wealth Be in the hands of others, our great name We still preserve.

AMP. O Jove, ’twas then in vain That thou didst deign to share my nuptial couch, In vain too, of thy son have I been styled The father, for thou hast not proved the friend Thou didst appear to be. I, though a man, Exceed in virtue thee a mighty god; Because I to their foes have not betrayed The sons of Hercules: but thou, by stealth, Entering my chamber, to another’s wife Without permission cam’st; yet know’st not how To save thy friends; thou surely art a god Either devoid of wisdom, or unjust.

[_Exeunt_ AMPHITRYON _and_ MEGARA.

CHORUS.

ODE.

I. 1.

For Linus’ death, by all the tuneful Nine Bewailed, doth Phœbus’ self complain, And loudly uttering his auspicious strain, Smite with a golden quill the lyre; but mine Shall be the task, while songs of praise I chaunt and twine the laureate wreath, His matchless fortitude t’ emblaze, Who sought hell’s inmost gloom, the dreary shades beneath; Whether I call the hero son of Jove, Or of Amphitryon; for the fame To which his labours have so just a claim, Must e’en in death attract the public love: In the Nemæan forest first he slew That lion huge, whose tawny hide And grinning jaws extended wide, He o’er his shoulders threw.

I. 2.

The winged arrows whizzing from his bow, Did on their native hills confound The Centaurs’ race with many a deadly wound: Alcides’ matchless strength doth Peneus know, Distinguished by his limpid waves, The fields laid waste of wide extent, With Pelion, and the neighbouring caves Of Homoles, uprooting from whose steep ascent, Tall pines that cast a venerable shade, The monsters armed their forceful hands, And strode terrific o’er Thessalia’s lands: Then breathless on th’ ensanguined plain he laid That hind distinguished by her golden horns, And still in Dian’s temple seen His prize, to glad the huntress queen, Oenöe’s walls adorns.

II. 1.

The chariot with triumphal ensigns graced Ascending, to his stronger yoke He Diomedes’ furious coursers broke, Scorning the bit, in hateful stalls who placed By their fell lord, the flesh of man Raging devoured, accursed food; A stream from their foul mangers ran, Filled with unholy gore, and many a gobbet crude. O’er Hebrus’ silver tide at the command Of Argos’ unrelenting king Eurystheus, he these captive steeds did bring, Close to Anauros’ mouth on Pelion’s strand. Inhuman Cycnus, son of Mars, next felt The force of his resounding bow, Unsocial wretch, the stranger’s foe, Who in Amphanea dwelt.

II. 2.

Then came he to th’ harmonious nymphs, that band Who in Hesperian gardens hold Their station, where the vegetative gold Glows in the fruitage; with resistless hand To snatch the apple from its height; The dragon wreathed his folds around The tree’s huge trunk, portentous sight, In vain; that monster fell transfixed with many a wound. Into those straits of the unfathomed main He entered, with auspicious gales, Where feared the mariner t’ unfurl his sails, And fixing limits to the watery plain His columns reared: then from the heavens’ huge load The wearied Atlas he relieved, His arm the starry realms upheaved, And propped the gods’ abode.

III. 1.

Foe to the Amazons’ equestrian race He crossed the boisterous Euxine tide, And gave them battle by Mæotis’ side. What friends through Greece collected he to face Hippolita, th’ intrepid maid, That he the belt of Mars might gain, And tissued robe with golden braid. Still doth exulting Greece the virgin’s spoils retain, Lodged in Mycene’s shrine, with gore imbrued, The dog of Lerna’s marshy plain, Who unresisting multitudes had slain, The hundred-headed hydra, he subdued, Aided by fire, and winged shafts combined, These from his well-stored quiver flew, And triple-formed Geryon slew, Fierce Erythræa’s hind.

III. 2.

But having finished each adventurous strife, At length in evil hour he steers To Pluto’s mansion, to the house of tears, The goal of labour, there to end his life, Thence never, never to return; His friends dismayed forsake these gates, In hopeless solitude we mourn. Hell’s stern award is passed, the boat of Charon waits To their eternal home his sons to bear, Most impious lawless homicide! For thee, O Hercules, thee erst his pride, Thy sire now looks with impotent despair. Had I the strength which I possessed of yore, I with my Theban friends, arrayed In brazen arms, thy sons would aid: But youth’s blest days are o’er.

Clad in funereal vestments I behold The children of Alcides erst the great, With his loved wife and his decrepit sire Conducting them. O wretched me! no longer Can I restrain the fountain of these tears Which gush incessant from my aged eyes.

MEGARA, AMPHITRYON, CHORUS.

MEG. Come on. What priest, what butcher is at hand To slay these wretched children, or transpierce My bosom? Now the victims stand prepared For their descent to Pluto’s loathed abode. By force, my children, are we borne along United in th’ unseemly bands of death; Decrepit age with helpless infancy And intermingled matrons. O dire fate Of me and of my sons, whom these sad eyes Shall never more behold! Alas! I bore, I nurtured you, to be the scorn, the sport, Of our inveterate foes, and by their hands To perish. Each fond hope, which from the words Of your departed father erst I formed, Hath proved fallacious. The deceased to _thee_ Allotted Argos, in Eurystheus’ palace Wert _thou_ to dwell a mighty king, and wield The sceptre of Pelasgia’s fruitful land, Then with the lion’s hide himself had worn Thy front he covered: _you_ were to ascend The throne of Thebes for brazen chariots famed, Possessing my hereditary fields, Such were the hopes of your exulting sire, Who to _your_ hand consigned that ponderous mace Deceitful gift of Dædalus: on _thee_, Thou little one, he promised to bestow Oecalia, which his shafts had erst laid waste: To you all three, these realms in threefold portions Did he distribute; for your father’s views Were all magnanimous: but I marked out Selected consorts for you, and formed schemes Of new affinities, from the domains Of Athens, Sparta, and the Theban city; That binding up your cables, and secure From the tempestuous deep, ye might enjoy A happy life: these prospects now are vanished: For to your arms hath changeful Fortune given The Destinies to be your brides, while tears Are your unhappy mother’s lustral drops. Your grandsire celebrates the nuptial feast, O’er which he summons Pluto to preside, The father of your consorts. But, alas! Whom first of you my children, or whom last To this fond bosom shall I clasp, on whom Bestow a kiss, whom in my arms sustain? How like the bee with variegated wings Shall I collect the sorrows of you all, And blend the whole together in a flood Of tears exhaustless? O my dearest lord, If any of those spirits who reside In Pluto’s realms beneath, can hear the voice Of mortals, in these words to thee I speak: O Hercules, thy father and thy sons Are doomed to bleed; I perish too who erst On thy account was by the world called happy. Protect us, come, and to these eyes appear, Though but a ghost; thy presence will suffice: For these thy children’s murderers, when with thee Compared, are dastards.

AMP. To appease the powers Of hell beneath, O woman, be thy care. But lifting to the skies my suppliant hands, I call on thee, O Jove, that, if thou mean To be a friend to these deserted children, Thou interpose without delay and save them, For soon ’twill be no longer in thy power: Thou oft hast been invoked; but all my prayers Are ineffectual; die, it seems, we must. But, O ye aged men, the bliss which life Can yield is small, contrive then how to pass As sweetly as is possible the hours Which fate allots you, e’en from morn till night Shaking off every grief: for Time preserves not Our hopes entire, but on his own pursuits Intent, deserts us, borne on rapid wings. Look but on me, amid the sons of men Conspicuous erst performing glorious deeds; And yet hath Fortune in one single day Taken all from me, like a feather wafted Into the trackless air. I know not him To whom collected stores of wealth or fame Are durable. Farewell, for this, my comrades, Is the last time ye shall behold your friend.

HERCULES, MEGARA, AMPHITRYON, CHORUS.

MEG. Ha! O thou aged man, do I behold My dearest husband? How shall I find utterance?

AMP. I know not, O my daughter; for I too Am with amazement seized.

MEG. This sure is he Who as we heard was in the realms beneath; Else doth some vision in the noontide glare Delude our senses. But what frantic words Were those I spoke as if ’twas all a dream? This is no other than thy real son, Thou aged man. Come hither, O my children, Cling to your father’s robe, with speed advance, Quit not your hold, for ye in him shall find An equal to our great protector Jove.

HER. All hail, thou mansion, and thou vestibule Of my abode; thee with what joy once more Do I behold, revisiting the light. Ha! what hath happened? I my children see With garlands on their temples, and my wife Amidst a throng of men, my father too Weeping for some mischance. I’ll go to them, And ask the cause. What recent ill, O woman, Hath happened to this house?

MEG. My dearest lord, O thou who to thy aged father com’st A radiant light, in safety hast thou reached, At this important crisis, the abodes Of those thou lov’st.

HER. What mean you by these words? What tumults, O my sire, are we involved in?

MEG. We are undone; but, O thou aged man, Forgive, if I’ve anticipated that Thou would’st have said to him: for in some points Our sex are greater objects of compassion Than males. I deem my children dead; I too Am perishing.

HER. O Phœbus! with what preludes Do you begin your speech?

MEG. My valiant brothers, And aged sire, alas! are now no more.

HER. Who slew them, how, or with what weapon?

MEG. Lycus, The monarch of this city, was their murderer.

HER. With arms did he oppose them, or prevail, When foul sedition through the land diffused Its pestilent contagion?

MEG. By revolt He holds the sceptre of the Theban realm.

HER. But wherefore hath this sudden panic reached You and my aged sire?

MEG. He would have slain Thy father, me, and these defenceless children.

HER. What mean you? could he fear my orphan race?

MEG. Lest they hereafter might avenge the death Of Creon.

HER. But what garb is this they wear, Which suits some corse?

MEG. Already in these vestments For our funereal rites are we arrayed.

HER. And were ye on the point of perishing By violence? Ah me!

MEG. Our friends desert us; For we have heard that thou wert dead.

HER. Whence rose This comfortless depression of the soul?

MEG. Eurystheus’ heralds the sad tidings bore.

HER. But for what cause did ye forsake my house, My sacred Lares?

MEG. From his bed thy sire Was forcibly dragged forth.

HER. So void of shame Was Lycus as to treat his age with scorn?

MEG. Shame dwells not near the shrine of brutal force.

HER. Were we thus destitute of friends when absent?

MEG. What friends abide with him who is unhappy?

HER. But did they scorn the battles which I fought Against the Minyans?

MEG. I to thee repeat it, Calamity is friendless and forlorn.

HER. Will ye not cast from your dishevelled hair These wreaths of Pluto? will ye not look up To yon bright sun, and ope your eyes to view Scenes far more pleasing than the loathsome shades Of hell beneath? But I, for wrongs like these Demand my vengeful arm, with speed will go And overturn the house of that new king, His impious head I to the ravenous hounds Lopped from his trunk will cast, and each base Theban Who with ingratitude repays my kindness With this victorious weapon smite: my shafts The rest shall scatter, till Ismenos’ channel Be choked up with the corses of the slain, And Dirce’s limpid fountain stream with gore. For whom, in preference to my wife, my children, And aged father, shall I aid? Farewell, Ye labours which unwittingly I strove T’ accomplish, mindless of these dearest pledges; In their defence I equally am bound To yield up life, if for their father they Were doomed to bleed. What! shall we call it noble To war against the hydra or the lion, And execute the mandates of Eurystheus, If I avert not my own children’s death? No longer else shall I, as erst, be styled Alcides the victorious.

CHOR. It is just Parents should aid their sons, their aged sire, And the dear partner of the nuptial bed.

AMP. My son, this mighty privilege is yours, To be the best of friends to those you love, And a determined foe to those you hate. But be not too impetuous.

HER. In what instance Have I been hastier, O my honoured sire, Than it becomes me?

AMP. To support his cause, The king hath many, who in fact are poor, Though fame accounts them rich; they raised a tumult, And caused the ruin of the state, to plunder Their neighbours; for the fortunes they possessed Are through their own extravagance and sloth Reduced to nothing. As the gates you entered, These could not fail to see you: O beware Lest since you by your foes have been perceived, You perish when you least foresee your danger, Oppressed by numbers.

HER. Though all Thebes beheld me, I care not. But when I descried a bird Of evil omen perched aloof, I knew That there had some calamity befallen My house, and therefore with presaging soul In secrecy I entered these domains.

AMP. Draw near with pious awe, my son, salute The Lares, and display that welcome face In your paternal mansions. For to drag Your wife and children forth, with me your sire To murder us, the king himself will come. But all will prosper, if you here remain, And a secure asylum will you find, Nor through the city spread a loud alarm Ere your designs succeed.

HER. Thus will I act, For thou hast rightly spoken; I am entering The palace. From the sunless caves beneath Of Proserpine, after a long delay Returning, first to our domestic gods Will I be mindful to address my vows.

AMP. Have you indeed then visited the house Of Pluto, O my son?

HER. And thence the dog With triple-head brought to these realms of light.

AMP. Conquered in battle, or on you bestowed By hell’s indulgent goddess?

HER. I prevailed O’er him in combat, and have been so happy As to behold the far-famed mystic orgies.

AMP. But is the beast lodged in Eurystheus’ palace?

HER. Him Cthonia’s groves and Hermion’s walls confine.

AMP. Knows not Eurystheus that you are returned Into this upper world?

HER. He doth not know: For I came first to learn what passes here.

AMP. But wherefore in the realms beneath, so long Did you remain?

HER. I there prolonged may stay, My sire, to bring back Theseus from the shades.

AMP. And where is he, gone to his native land?

HER. He went to Athens, pleased with his escape From the infernal regions. But attend Your father to the palace, O my sons, Which now ye enter in a happier state Than when ye left it: but take courage, cease To pour forth floods of tears; and, O my wife, Collect thyself, let all thy terrors cease, And loose my garments; for I have not wings, Nor would I vanish from my friends. Alas! Their hold they quit not, but cling faster still, And faster to my vest. Because ye stand Upon the verge of ruin, I will take And bear you hence, as by the ship light boats Are guided o’er the deep: for I refuse not The care my children claim. Here all mankind Are on a level, they of nobler rank And mean condition, to their progeny Bear equal love. The gifts of fortune vary, Some have abundant wealth, and some are poor; But the whole human race feels this attachment.

[_Exeunt_ HERCULES _and_ MEGARA, _with the children_.

CHORUS.

ODE.