Bounteous to Troy and me. Thou art the joy
And jewel of my days, which I to Troy
Have brought, and made thee hers.--O Cyprian,
I heard, not clearly,--'twas some talk that ran
Among the pickets--spies had passed some spot
Close by the camp. The men who saw them not
Talk much, and they who saw, or might have seen, [vv. 659-676]
Can give no sign nor token. It had been
My purpose to find Hector where he lay.
ATHENA.
Fear nothing. All is well in Troy's array.
Hector is gone to help those Thracians sleep.
PARIS.
Thy word doth rule me, Goddess. Yea, so deep
My trust is, that all thought of fear is lost
In comfort, and I turn me to my post.
ATHENA.
Go. And remember that thy fortunes still
Are watched by me, and they who do my will
Prosper in all their ways. Aye, thou shalt prove
Ere long, if I can care for those I love.
[_Exit_ PARIS. _She raises her voice._
Back, back, ye twain! Are ye in love with death?
Laertes' son, thy sword into the sheath!
Our golden Thracian gaspeth in his blood;
The steeds are ours; the foe hath understood
And crowds against you. Haste ye! haste to fly,--
Ere yet the lightning falleth, and ye die!
[ATHENA _vanishes; a noise of tumult is heard_.
_Enter a crowd of Thracians running in confusion, in the midst
of them_ ODYSSEUS _and_ DIOMEDE.
VOICES (_amid the tumult_).
Ha! Ha!--At them! At them! After them! Down with them!--Where are they?
CAPTAIN. [vv. 677-685]
Who is that fellow? Look! That yonder!
A MAN.
Rascal thieves, the sort that crawl
And vex an army in the dark!
CAPTAIN.
Ho, this way! Follow! This way all!
[_They pursue_ ODYSSEUS _and_ DIOMEDE; _catch
them and bring them back_.
A MAN.
I have them! I have caught them!
CAPTAIN (_to_ ODYSSEUS).
Whence comest thou? What art thou? Say; what captain and what company?
ODYSSEUS (_indignantly_).
'Tis not for thee to know. This day thou diest for thy knavery!
CAPTAIN.
Stop! Give the watchword quick, before I have thy body on my pike.
ODYSSEUS (_in a tone of authority_).
Halt every man and have no fear!
CAPTAIN.
Come, gather round. Be quick to strike.
ODYSSEUS (_to_ CAPTAIN). [vv. 686-689]
'Twas thou that killed King Rhesus!
CAPTAIN.
No: 'tis I that kill the man that killed . . .
[_Flies at_ ODYSSEUS, _but other men hold him back_.
ODYSSEUS.
Hold back all!
VOICES.
No more holding back!
ODYSSEUS (_as they attack him_).
What, strike an ally in the field?
CAPTAIN.
Then give the watchword!
ODYSSEUS.
Phoebus.
CAPTAIN.
Right. Ho, every man hold back his spear!--
Then know'st thou where the men are gone?
ODYSSEUS.
We saw them running, somewhere here.
[_He makes off into the darkness._ DIOMEDE _follows, and some
Thracians_.
CAPTAIN. [vv. 690-703]
Off every one upon their track!
A MAN.
Or should we rouse the army?
CAPTAIN.
No;
To stir the allies in the night and make more panic!
Let us go.
[_The Thracians go off in pursuit. Meantime the original Guards who
form the Chorus have hastened back. The two Greeks are presently
seen crossing at the back in a different direction._
CHORUS.
Who was the man that passed?
Who, that, so madly bold.
Even as I held him fast,
Laughed, and I loosed my hold?
Where shall I find him now?
What shall I deem of him,
To steal thro' the guards a-row,
Quaking not, eye nor limb,
On thro' the starlight dim?
Is he of Thessaly,
Born by the Locrian sea,
Or harvester of some starved island's corn?
What man hath seen his face?
What was his name or race,
What the high God by whom his sires have sworn?
DIVERS GUARDS (_talking_). [vv. 704-724]
This night must be Odysseus' work, or whose?--
Odysseus? Aye, to judge by ancient use.--
Odysseus surely!--That is thy belief?--
What else? It seems he hath no fear
Of such as we!--Whom praise ye there?
Whose prowess? Say!--Odysseus.--Nay,
Praise not the secret stabbing of a thief!
CHORUS.
He came once, of old,
Up thro' the city throng,
Foam on his lips, a-cold,
Huddled in rags that hung
Covering just the sword
Hid in his mantle's pleat;
His face grimed and scored,
A priest of wandering feet,
Who begged his bread in the street.
Many and evil things
He cast on the brother kings
Like one long hurt, who nurseth anger sore;
Would that a curse, yea, would
The uttermost wrath of God
Had held those feet from walking Ilion's shore!
DIVERS GUARDS (_talking_).
Odysseus or another, 'tis the guard
Will weep for this. Aye, Hector will be hard.--
What will he say?--He will suspect.--Suspect?
What evil? What should make you fear?-- [vv. 725-737]
'Twas we that left a passage clear.--
A passage?--Yea, for these men's way,
Who came by night into the lines unchecked.
[_A sound of moaning outside in the darkness, which has been
heard during the last few lines, now grows into articulate
words._
VOICE.
Woe, woe!
The burden of the wrath of fate!
GUARDS.
Ha, listen! Wait.
Crouch on the ground; it may be yet
Our man is drawing to the net.
VOICE.
Woe, woe!
The burden of the hills of Thrace!
LEADER.
An ally? None of Hellene race.
VOICE.
Woe, woe!
Yea, woe to me and woe to thee,
My master! Once to set thine eye
On Ilion the accurst, and die!
LEADER (_calling aloud_).
Ho there! What ally passes? The dim night
Blurreth mine eyes; I cannot see thee right.
VOICE. [vv. 738-756]
Ho, some one of the Trojan name!
Where sleeps your king beneath his shield,
Hector? What marshal of the field
Will hear our tale . . . the men who came
And struck us and were gone; and we,
We woke and there was nought to see,
But our own misery.
LEADER.
I cannot hear him right; it sounds as if
The Thracians were surprised or in some grief.
[_There enters a wounded man, walking with difficulty; he is the
Thracian Charioteer who came with_ RHESUS.
THRACIAN.
The army lost and the king slain,
Stabbed in the dark! Ah, pain! pain!
This deep raw wound . . . Oh, let me die
By thy side, Master, by thy side!
In shame together let us lie
Who came to save, and failed and died.
LEADER.
This needs no surmise: 'tis disaster plain
That comes. He speaketh of some ally slain.
THRACIAN.
Disaster, yea: and with disaster shame,
Which lights Disaster to a twofold flame
Of evil. For to die in soldier's wise, [vv. 757-787]
Since die we needs must . . . though the man who dies
Hath pain . . . to all his house 'tis praise and pride;
But we, like laggards and like fools we died!
When Hector's hand had showed us where to rest
And told the watchword, down we lay, oppressed
With weariness of that long march, and slept
Just as we fell. No further watch was kept,
Our arms not laid beside us; by the horse
No yoke nor harness ordered. Hector's force
Had victory, so my master heard, and lay
Secure, just waiting for the dawn of day
To attack. So thought we all, and our lines broke
And slept. After a little time I woke,
Thinking about my horses, that the morn
Must see them yoked for war. I found the corn
And gave them plenteously. Then in the deep
Shadow I saw two men who seemed to creep
Close by our line, but swiftly, as I stirred,
Crouched and were seeking to make off unheard.
I shouted then, and bade them keep away:
Two thieves, I thought, from the great host that lay
Round us. They never answered, and, for me,
I said no more but turned and presently
Was sleeping. In my sleep there came a dream.
I seemed to see the horses--mine own team
I had trained long since and drove at Rhesus' side--
But wolves were on their backs, wolves, couched astride,
Who drove and scourged; I saw the horses rear
And stagger with wide nostrils, stiff with fear,
And, starting up to drive the beasts away,
I woke.--A terror of great darkness lay [vv. 788-809]
About me, but I lifted up my head
And listened. There was moaning, like the dead
That moan at night, and over me there flowed,
So soft, so warm--it was my master's blood,
Who writhed beside me, dying! With a bound
I sprang up, empty-handed, groping round
For spear or sword, when, lo, a young strong man
Was close to me and slashed, and the sword ran
Deep through my flank. I felt its passage well,
So deep, so wide, so spreading . . . then I fell.
And they, they got the bridles in their hand
And fled. . . . Ah! Ah! This pain. I cannot stand.
[_The Guards catch him as he reels, and lay him on
the ground._
I know, I saw, thus much. But why or how
Those dead men went to death I cannot know,
Nor by whose work. But this I say; God send
'Tis not foul wrong wrought on us by a friend.
LEADER.
Good charioteer of that ill-fortuned king,
Suspect us not. 'Tis Greeks have done this thing.
But yonder Hector comes. He hath been shown
The foul deed, and thy sorrows are his own.
_Enter_ HECTOR _in wrath, with a band of Guards_.
HECTOR.
Ye workers of amazement! Have your eyes
No sight? Ye watch and let these Argive spies
Pass--and our friends are butchered in their sleep-- [vv. 810-834]
And then pass back unwounded, laughing deep
Amid the galleys at the news they bring
Of Trojan sluggards and the fool their king?
Great God, ye never baulked them as they came,
Nor smote them as they went!
[_His eye falls on the_ CAPTAIN.
Who bears the blame
Of this but thou? Thou wast the watcher set
To guard this host till morn. I tell thee yet
For this deed--I have sworn by Zeus our Lord!--
The scourge of torment or the headsman's sword
Awaits thee. Else, be Hector in your thought
Writ down a babbler and a man of nought.
LEADER (_grovelling before_ HECTOR).
Woe, woe! It was for thee, only for thee,
I must have gone, O Help and Majesty,
That time with message that the fires were burning.
Mine eye was keen; I swear by Simois river,
It never drooped nor slumbered, never, never,
From eve till morning!
My master, verily, I am innocent utterly,
Build not such wrath against me, Lord, nor harden
Thy heart; let Time be judge; and if in deed
Or word I have offended, let me bleed!
Bury me here alive! I ask no pardon.
[HECTOR _is standing over him ready to strike when the_
CHARIOTEER _speaks_.
THRACIAN.
Why threaten them? Art thou a Greek to blind
My barbarous wit so nimbly, in a wind
Of words? This work was thine. And no man's head [vv. 835-861]
Is asked by us, the wounded and the dead,
Save thine. It needs more play, and better feigned,
To hide from me that thou hast slain thy friend
By craft, to steal his horses.--That is why
He stabs his friends. He prays them earnestly,
Prays them to come; they came and they are dead.
A cleaner man was Paris, when he fled
With his host's wife. He was no murderer.
Profess not thou that any Greek was there
To fall on us. What Greek could pass the screen
Of Trojan posts in front of us, unseen?
Thyself was stationed there, and all thy men.
What man of yours was slain or wounded when
Your Greek spies came? Not one; 'tis we, behind,
Are wounded, and some worse than wounded, blind
Forever to the sunlight. When we seek
Our vengeance, we shall go not to the Greek.
What stranger in that darkness could have trod
Straight to where Rhesus lay--unless some God
Pointed his path? They knew not, whispered not,
Rhesus had ever come. . . . 'Tis all a plot.
HECTOR (_steadied and courteous again_).
Good allies I have had since first the Greek
Set foot in Troy, and never heard them speak
Complaint of Hector. Thou wilt be the first.
I have not, by God's mercy, such a thirst
For horses as to murder for their sake.
[_He turns to his own men._
Odysseus! Yet again Odysseus! Take
All the Greek armies, is there one but he
Could have devised, or dared, this devilry? [vv. 862-876]
I fear him; yea, fear in mine own despite,
Lest Dolon may have crossed him in the night
And perished; 'tis so long he cometh not.
THRACIAN.
I know not who Odysseus is, nor what.
I know it was no Greek that wounded us.
HECTOR.
To think thus pleasures thee? Well, have it thus.
THRACIAN.
Home, home! To die at home and rest my head!
HECTOR.
Nay, die not, friend. We have enough of dead.
THRACIAN.
How can I live? Lost, and my master slain.
HECTOR.
My house will shelter thee and heal thy pain.
THRACIAN.
Thy house? Will murderers' nursing give me peace?
HECTOR.
Still the same tale! This man will never cease.
THRACIAN.
My curse rest--not on Hector, but on those
Who stabbed us, as thou say'st.--Ah, Justice knows!
HECTOR. [vv. 877-891]
There, lift him.--Bear him to my house. Take pains,
If care can do it, that the man complains
No more of Troy.--Ye others, bear withal
To Priam and the Elders of the Wall
My charge, that, where the cart-road from the plain
Branches, they make due burial for our slain.
[_One party of Guards lifts carefully the wounded_ THRACIAN
_and goes off bearing him: another departs with the message
to Troy_.
CHORUS.
Back from the heights of happiness,
Back, back, to labour and distress
Some god that is not ours doth lead
Troy and her sons; He sows the seed,
Who knows the reaping?
[_In the air at the back there appears a Vision of the_ MUSE
_holding the body of her dead son_ RHESUS.
Ah! Ah!
My king, what cometh? There appears
Some Spirit, like a mist of tears;
And in her arms a man lieth,
So young, so wearied unto death;
To see such vision presageth
Wrath and great weeping.
[_The Guards hide their heads in their mantles._
MUSE.
Nay, look your fill, ye Trojans. It is I,
The many-sistered Muse, of worship high
In wise men's hearts, who come to mourn mine own [vv. 892-914]
Most pitifully loved, most injured, son,
For whose shed blood Odysseus yet shall pay
Vengeance, who crawled and stabbed him where he lay.
With a dirge of the Thracian mountains,
I mourn for thee, O my son.
For a mother's weeping, for a galley's launching, for
the way to Troy;
A sad going, and watched by spirits of evil.
His mother chid him to stay, but he rose and went.
His father besought him to stay, but he went in
anger.
Ah, woe is me for thee, thou dear face,
My beloved and my son!
LEADER.
Goddess, if tears for such as thee may run
In our low eyes, I weep for thy dead son.
MUSE.
I say to thee: Curse Odysseus,
And cursed be Diomede!
For they made me childless, and forlorn for ever, of
the flower of sons.
Yea, curse Helen, who left the houses of Hellas.
She knew her lover, she feared not the ships and sea.
She called thee, called thee, to die for the sake of Paris,
Beloved, and a thousand cities
She made empty of good men.
O conquered Thamyris, is this thy bane [vv. 915-941]
Returned from death to pierce my heart again?
Thy pride it was, and bitter challenge cast
'Gainst all the Muses, did my flesh abase
To bearing of this Child, what time I passed
Through the deep stream and looked on Strymon's face,
And felt his great arms clasp me, when to old
Pangaion and the earth of hoarded gold
We Sisters came with lutes and psalteries,
Provoked to meet in bitter strife of song
That mountain wizard, and made dark the eyes
Of Thamyris, who wrought sweet music wrong.
I bore thee, Child; and then, in shame before
My sisterhood, my dear virginity,
I stood again upon thy Father's shore
And cast thee to the deeps of him; and he
Received and to no mortal nursing gave
His child, but to the Maidens of the Wave.
And well they nursed thee, and a king thou wast
And first of Thrace in war; yea, far and near
Through thine own hills thy bloody chariot passed,
Thy battered helm flashed, and I had no fear;
Only to Troy I charged thee not to go:
I knew the fated end: but Hector's cry,
Borne overseas by embassies of woe,
Called thee to battle for thy friends and die.
And thou, Athena--nothing was the deed
Odysseus wrought this night nor Diomede--
'Tis thine, all thine; dream not thy cruel hand
Is hid from me! Yet ever on thy land
The Muse hath smiled; we gave it praise above
All cities, yea, fulfilled it with our love. [vv. 942-963]
The light of thy great Mysteries was shed
By Orpheus, very cousin of this dead
Whom thou hast slain; and thine high citizen
Musaeus, wisest of the tribes of men,
We and Apollo guided all his way:
For which long love behold the gift ye pay!
I wreathe him in my arms; I wail his wrong
Alone, and ask no other mourner's song.
[_She weeps over_ RHESUS.
LEADER.
Hector, thou hearest. We were guiltless here,
And falsely spake that Thracian charioteer.
HECTOR.
Always I knew it. Had we any need
Of seers to tell this was Odysseus' deed?
For me, what could I else, when I beheld
The hosts of Argos camped upon this field,
What but with prayers and heralds bid my friend
Come forth and fight for Ilion ere the end?
He owed me that.--Yet, now my friend is slain,
His sorrow is my sorrow. On this plain
I will uplift a wondrous sepulchre,
And burn about it gifts beyond compare
Of robes and frankincense. To Troy's relief
He came in love and parteth in great grief.
MUSE.
My son shall not be laid in any grave
Of darkness; thus much guerdon will I crave
Of Death's eternal bride, the heavenly-born [vv. 964-985]
Maid of Demeter, Life of fruits and corn,
To set this one soul free. She owes me yet,
For Orpheus widowed, an abiding debt.
To me he still must be--that know I well--
As one in death, who sees not. Where I dwell
He must not come, nor see his mother's face.
Alone for ever, in a caverned place
Of silver-veined earth, hid from men's sight,
A Man yet Spirit, he shall live in light:
As under far Pangaion Orpheus lies,
Priest of great light and worshipped of the wise.
Howbeit an easier anguish even to me
Falls than to Thetis in her azure sea;
For her son too shall die; and sorrowing,
First on the hills our band for thee shall sing,
Then for Achilles by the weeping wave.
Pallas could murder thee, but shall not save
Thy foe; too swift Apollo's bolt shall fly.
O fleshly loves of sad mortality,
O bitter motherhood of these that die,
She that hath wisdom will endure her doom,
The days of emptiness, the fruitless womb;
Not love, not bear love's children to the tomb.
[_The_ VISION _rises through the air and vanishes_.
LEADER.
The dead man sleepeth in his mother's care;
But we who battle still--behold, the glare
Of dawn that rises. Doth thy purpose hold,
Hector, our arms are ready as of old.
HECTOR. [vv. 986-996]
March on; and bid the allies with all speed
Be armed, bind fast the yoke upon the steed,
Then wait with torches burning, till we sound
The Tuscan trump.--This day we shall confound,
God tells me, their Greek phalanx, break their high
Rampart and fire the galleys where they lie.
[_Pointing to the dawn._
Yon first red arrow of the Sun, that brings
The dawn to Troy, hath freedom on his wings.
_During the following lines_ HECTOR _goes to his tent to get
his shield, and as he enters sees_ DOLON's _bloody wolf-skin
hanging. He takes it, looks at it, and throws it down without
a word. Then he puts on his helmet, takes his shield and spear,
and follows the Guards as they march off._
CHORUS.
The Chief hath spoken: let his will
Be law, ye Trojans.--Raise the cry
To Arms! To Arms! and down the line
Of allies pass the battle-sign.
The God of Ilion liveth still;
And men may conquer ere they die.
[_Exeunt._
NOTES
The play presupposes a knowledge of the Iliad in some form, if not
exactly in the form which it now wears. We are not only supposed to know
that Hector, son of Priam, leads the Trojans and their allies ("Trojans,
and Lycians, and Dardans bold": in tragedy they are also called
Phrygians) in defence against the Greeks--Argives, Achaeans,
Hellenes--under Agamemnon, king of men, and his brother Menelaues,
husband of Helen. This sort of supposition is usual in all Greek
tragedy. It merely means that the poet takes for granted the main
outlines of the heroic saga. But in this play we are also supposed to
take up the story as it stands at the opening of the Doloneia or Tenth
Book of the Iliad. Indeed one might almost say that the _Rhesus_ is
simply the Doloneia turned into drama and set in the Trojan camp. The
only other play that is taken straight from Homer is the Satyr-play,
_Cyclops_, which tells the story of Odyssey IX., but it is likely enough
that if we possessed more of the earlier epic literature we should find
many other plays closely hugging their traditional sources.--The Trojans
are camping out on the field of battle, close to the Greek lines.
Hector, always ready for danger, seems to have his tent or log-hut set
up quite in the van, just behind the outposts. In Il. X. 415 ff. he is
holding counsel with the other chieftains "away from the throng"; the
allies are taking their sleep and trusting to the Trojans, who keep
awake in groups round the camp fires; no watchword is mentioned.
P. 5, l. 30, The priest.]--He would be needed to make the sacrifice
before battle.
P. 5, l. 36, The lash of trembling Pan.]--_i.e._, a panic.
P. 5, l. 41, Great beacons in the Argive line.]--In the Iliad it is the
Trojan watch-fires that are specially mentioned, especially VIII.
553-end. There is no great disturbance in the Greek camp in the
Doloneia; there is a gathering of the principal chiefs, a visit to the
Guards, and the despatch of the two spies, but no general tumult such as
there is in Book II. One cannot help wondering whether our playwright
found in his version of the Doloneia a description of fires in the Greek
camp, such as our Eighth Book has of those in the Trojan camp. The
object might be merely protection against a night attack, or it might be
a wish to fly, as Hector thinks. If so, presumably the Assembly changed
its mind--much as it does in our Book II.--and determined to send spies.
P. 5, l. 43 ff., The shipyard timbers.]--The Greeks had their ships
drawn up on the beach and protected by some sort of wooden "shipyard";
then came the camp; then, outside the whole, a trench and a wall. The
fires were in the camp.
P. 8, l. 105, Brother! I would thy wit were like thy spear!]--In Homer
Hector is impulsive and over-daring, but still good in counsel. On the
stage every quality that is characteristic is apt to be overemphasized,
all that is not characteristic neglected. Hence on the Attic stage
Odysseus is more crafty, Ajax and Diomedes more blunt, Menelaus more
unwarlike and more uxorious than in Homer.
This speech of Aeneas, though not inapposite, is rather didactic--a
fault which always remained a danger to Euripides.
P. 10, l. 150 ff., Dolon.]--The name is derived from _dolos_, "craft."
In our version of Homer Dolon merely wears, over his tunic, the skin of
a grey wolf. He has a leather cap and a bow. In the play he goes, as Red
Indian spies used to go, actually disguised as a wolf, on all fours in a
complete wolf-skin. The same version is found on the Munich cylix of the
early vase-painter Euphronius (about 500 B.C.), in which Dolon wears a
tight-fitting hairy skin with a long tail. The plan can of course only
succeed in a country where wild animals are common enough to be thought
unimportant. The playwright has evidently chosen a more primitive and
romantic version of the story; the Homeric reviser has, as usual, cut
out what might seem ridiculous. (See J. A. K. Thomson in _Classical
Review_, xxv. pp. 238 f.)
P. 12, l. 175, Ajax, Ileus' son.]--"Ajax" is mentioned here and at ll.
463, 497, 601, as apparently next in importance to the two Atreidae or
to Achilles. That is natural, but it is a shock to have him here
described as son of Ileus. In the Iliad we should have had "Ajax son of
Telamon." The son of Ileus is "Ajax the less," a hero of the second
rank. Scholars have conjectured on other grounds that in some older form
of the Iliad-saga Ajax son of Ileus was of much greater importance. The
father "Telamon" and the connection with Aegina are neither of them
original in the myth.
P. 12, l. 182, Achilles' horses.]--They are as glorious in the Iliad as
they are here. Cf. especially the passages where they bear Automedon out
of the battle (end of XVI.), and where Xanthos is given a human voice to
warn his master of the coming of death (end of XIX.). The heroic age of
Greece delighted in horses. Cf. those of Aeneas, Diomedes, Eumelus, and
Rhesus himself.
P. 15, ll. 225-263, Chorus.]--Apollo is appealed to as a God of Thymbra
in the Troad, of Delos the Ionian island, and of Lycia in the South of
Asia Minor; the god of Asiatics and _barbaroi_, the enemy of the
Achaeans. This is also to a great extent the conception of Apollo in the
Iliad, where he fights for Troy and is Hector's special patron. The
sudden ferocity towards Helen in the last strophe is quite in the manner
of Euripides; cf. _Trojan Women_, 1107 ff. (p. 65), 766 ff. (p. 49), and
often; also _Iph. Taur._ 438 ff. (p. 21), where her name comes somewhat
as a surprise.
The stage directions here are of course conjectural: it does not seem
likely that the playwright, having made Dolon describe his wolf's
disguise in detail, would waste the opportunity of making him crawl off
in it. Cf. on l. 594, p. 63, and at the end of the play.
P. 16, l. 267. Hector is as bluff and hasty here as he is impulsively
obstinate in l. 319 ff., p. 19, impulsively frank to Rhesus in l. 393
ff., p. 23, and splendidly courteous under the gibes of the wounded
charioteer, l. 856 ff., p. 47. A fine stage character, if not a very
subtle study.