Alack, alack, O sisters, we have toiled,
O much and vainly have we toiled and borne!
Vainly! and all we wrought the gods have foiled,
And turnèd us to scorn!
He hath slipped from the net, whom we chased: he
hath ’scaped us who should be our prey—
O’ermastered by slumber we sank, and our quarry hath stolen away!
Thou, child of the high God Zeus, Apollo, hast robbed us and wronged;
Thou, a youth, hast down-trodden the right that is godship more ancient
belonged;
Thou hast cherished thy suppliant man; the slayer the God-forsaken,
The bane of a parent, by craft from out of our grasp thou hast taken:
A god, thou hast stolen from us the avengers a matricide son—
And who shall consider thy deed and say, _It is rightfully_ done?
The sound of chiding scorn
Came from the land of dream;
Deep to mine inmost heart I felt it thrill and burn,
Thrust as a strong-grasped goad, to urge
Onward the chariot’s team.
Thrilled, chilled with bitter inward pain
I stand as one beneath the doomsman’s scourge.
Shame on the younger gods who tread down right,
Sitting on thrones of might!
Woe on the altar of earth’s central fane!
Clotted on step and shrine,
Behold, the guilt of blood, the ghastly stain!
Woe upon thee, Apollo! uncontrolled,
Unbidden, hast thou, prophet-god, imbrued
The pure prophetic shrine with wrongful blood!
For thou too heinous a respect didst hold
Of man, too little heed of powers divine!
And us the Fates, the ancients of the earth,
Didst deem as nothing worth.
Scornful to me thou art, yet shalt not fend
My wrath from him; though unto hell he flee,
There too are we!
And he the blood defiled, should feel and rue,
Though I were not, fiend-wrath that shall not end,
Descending on his head who foully slew.
[_Re-enter Apollo from the inner shrine._
APOLLO
Out! I command you. Out from this my home—
Haste, tarry not! Out from the mystic shrine,
Lest thy lot be to take into thy breast
The winged bright dart that from my golden string
Speeds hissing as a snake,—lest, pierced and thrilled
With agony, thou shouldst spew forth again
Black frothy heart’s-blood, drawn from mortal men,
Belching the gory clots sucked forth from wounds.
These be no halls where such as you can prowl—
Go where men lay on men the doom of blood,
Heads lopped from necks, eyes from their spheres plucked out,
Hacked flesh, the flower of youthful seed crushed out,
Feet hewn away, and hands, and death beneath
The smiting stone, low moans and piteous
Of men impaled—Hark, hear ye for what feast
Ye hanker ever, and the loathing gods
Do spit upon your craving? Lo, your shape
Is all too fitted to your greed; the cave
Where lurks some lion, lapping gore, were home
More meet for you. Avaunt from sacred shrines,
Nor bring pollution by your touch on all
That nears you. Hence! and roam unshepherded—
No god there is to tend such herd as you.
CHORUS
O king Apollo, in our turn hear us.
Thou hast’not only part in these ill things,
But art chief cause and doer of the same.
APOLLO
How? stretch thy speech to tell this, and have done.
CHORUS
Thine oracle bade this man slay his mother.
APOLLO
I bade him quit his sire’s death,—wherefore not?
CHORUS
Then didst thou aid and guard red-handed crime.
APOLLO
Yea, and I bade him to this temple flee.
CHORUS
And yet forsooth dost chide us following him!
APOLLO
Ay—not for you it is, to near this fane.
CHORUS
Yet is such office ours, imposed by fate.
APOLLO
What office? vaunt the thing ye deem so fair.
CHORUS
From home to home we chase the matricide.
APOLLO
What? to avenge a wife who slays her lord?
CHORUS
That is not blood outpoured by kindred hands.
APOLLO
How darkly ye dishonour and annul
The troth to which the high accomplishers,
Hera and Zeus, do honour. Yea, and thus
Is Aphrodite to dishonour cast,
The queen of rapture unto mortal men.
Know, that above the marriage-bed ordained
For man and woman standeth Right as guard,
Enhancing sanctity of troth-plight sworn;
Therefore, if thou art placable to those
Who have their consort slain, nor will’st to turn
On them the eye of wrath, unjust art thou
In hounding to his doom the man who slew
His mother. Lo, I know thee full of wrath
Against one deed, but all too placable
Unto the other, minishing the crime.
But in this cause shall Pallas guard the right.
CHORUS
Deem not my quest shall ever quit that man.
APOLLO
Follow then, make thee double toil in vain!
CHORUS
Think not by speech mine office to curtail.
APOLLO
None hast thou, that I would accept of thee!
CHORUS
Yea, high thine honour by the throne of Zeus:
But I, drawn on by scent of mother’s blood,
Seek vengeance on this man and hound him down.
APOLLO
But I will stand beside him; ’tis for me
To guard my suppliant: gods and men alike
Do dread the curse of such an one betrayed,
And in me Fear and Will say _Leave him not_.
[_Exeunt omnes_
_The scene changes to Athens. In the foreground, the Temple of Athena
on the Acropolis; her statue stands in the centre; Orestes is seen
clinging to it._
ORESTES
Look on me, queen Athena; lo, I come
By Loxias’ behest; thou of thy grace
Receive me, driven of avenging powers—
Not now a red-hand slayer unannealed,
But with guilt fading, half-effaced, outworn
On many homes and paths of mortal men.
For to the limit of each land, each sea,
I roamed, obedient to Apollo’s hest,
And come at last, O Goddess, to thy fane,
And clinging to thine image, bide my doom.
[_Enter the Chorus of Furies, questing like hounds_
CHORUS
Ho! clear is here the trace of him we seek:
Follow the track of blood, the silent sign!
Like to some hound that hunts a wounded fawn,
We snuff along the scent of dripping gore,
And inwardly we pant, for many a day
Toiling in chase that shall fordo the man;
For o’er and o’er the wide land have I ranged,
And o’er the wide sea, flying without wings,
Swift as a sail I pressed upon his track,
Who now hard by is crouching, well I wot,
For scent of mortal blood allures me here.
Follow, seek him—round and round
Scent and snuff and scan the ground,
Lest unharmed he slip away,
He who did his mother slay!
Hist—he is there! See him his arms entwine
Around the image of the maid divine—
Thus aided, for the deed he wrought
Unto the judgment wills he to be brought.
It may not be! a mother’s blood, poured forth
Upon the stainèd earth,
None gathers up: it lies—bear witness, Hell!—
For aye indelible!
And thou who sheddest it shalt give thine own
That shedding to atone!
Yea, from thy living limbs I suck it out,
Red, clotted, gout by gout,—
A draught abhorred of men and gods; but I
Will drain it, suck thee dry;
Yea, I will waste thee living, nerve and vein;
Yea, for thy mother slain,
Will drag thee downward, there where thou shalt dree
The weird of agony!
And thou and whatsoe’er of men hath sinned—
Hath wronged or God, or friend,
Or parent,—learn ye how to all and each
The arm of doom can reach!
Sternly requiteth, in the world beneath,
The judgment-seat of Death;
Yea, Death, beholding every man’s endeavour
Recordeth it for ever.
ORESTES
I, schooled in many miseries, have learnt
How many refuges of cleansing shrines
There be; I know when law alloweth speech
And when imposeth silence. Lo, I stand
Fixed now to speak, for he whose word is wise
Commands the same. Look, how the stain of blood
Is dull upon mine hand and wastes away,
And laved and lost therewith is the deep curse
Of matricide; for while the guilt was new,
’Twas banished from me at Apollo’s hearth,
Atoned and purified by death of swine.
Long were my word if I should sum the tale,
How oft since then among my fellow-men
I stood and brought no curse. Time cleanses all—
Time, the coeval of all things that are.
Now from pure lips, in words of omen fair,
I call Athena, lady of this land,
To come, my champion: so, in aftertime,
She shall not fail of love and service leal,
Not won by war, from me and from my land,
And all the folk of Argos, vowed to her.
Now, be she far away in Libyan land
Where flows from Triton’s lake her natal wave,—
Stand she with planted feet, or in some hour
Of rest conceal them, champion of her friends
Where’er she be,—or whether o’er the plain
Phlegraean she look forth, as warrior bold—
I cry to her to come, where’er she be,
(And she, as goddess, from afar can hear,)
And aid and free me, set among my foes.
CHORUS
Thee not Apollo nor Athena’s strength
Can save from perishing, a castaway
Amid the Lost, where no delight shall meet
Thy soul—a bloodless prey of nether powers,
A shadow among shadows. Answerest thou
Nothing? dost cast away my words with scorn,
Thou, prey prepared and dedicate to me?
Not as a victim slain upon the shrine,
But living shalt thou see thy flesh my food.
Hear now the binding chant that makes thee mine.
Weave the weird dance,—behold the hour
To utter forth the chant of hell,
Our sway among mankind to tell,
The guidance of our power.
Of Justice are we ministers,
And whosoe’er of men may stand
Lifting a pure unsullied hand,
That man no doom of ours incurs,
And walks thro’ all his mortal path
Untouched by woe, unharmed by wrath.
But if, as yonder man, he hath
Blood on the hands he strives to hide,
We stand avengers at his side,
Decreeing, _Thou hast wronged the dead:
We are doom’s witnesses to thee_.
The price of blood, his hands have shed,
We wring from him; in life, in death,
Hard at his side are we!
Night, Mother Night, who brought me forth, a torment
To living men and dead,
Hear me, O hear! by Leto’s stripling son
I am dishonourèd:
He hath ta’en from me him who cowers in refuge,
To me made consecrate,—
A rightful victim, him who slew his mother.
Given o’er to me and fate.
Hear the hymn of hell,
O’er the victim sounding,—
Chant of frenzy, chant of ill,
Sense and will confounding!
Round the soul entwining
Without lute or lyre—
Soul in madness pining,
Wasting as with fire!
Fate, all-pervading Fate, this service spun, commanding
That I should bide therein:
Whosoe’er of mortals, made perverse and lawless,
Is stained with blood of kin,
By his side are we, and hunt him ever onward,
Till to the Silent Land,
The realm of death, he cometh; neither yonder
In freedom shall he stand.
Hear the hymn of hell,
O’er the victim sounding,—
Chant of frenzy, chant of ill,
Sense and will confounding!
Round the soul entwining
Without lute or lyre—
Soul in madness pining,
Wasting as with fire!
When from womb of Night we sprang, on us this labour
Was laid and shall abide.
Gods immortal are ye, yet beware ye touch not
That which is our pride!
None may come beside us gathered round the blood feast—
For us no garments white
Gleam on a festal day; for us a darker fate is,
Another darker rite.
That is mine hour when falls an ancient line—
When in the household’s heart
The god of blood doth slay by kindred hands,—
Then do we bear our part:
On him who slays we sweep with chasing cry:
Though he be triply strong,
We wear and waste him; blood atones for blood,
New pain for ancient wrong.
I hold this task—’tis mine, and not another’s.
The very gods on high,
Though they can silence and annul the prayers
Of those who on us cry,
They may not strive with us who stand apart,
A race by Zeus abhorred,
Blood-boltered, held unworthy of the council
And converse of Heaven’s lord.
Therefore the more I leap upon my prey;
Upon their head I bound;
My foot is hard; as one that trips a runner
I cast them to the ground;
Yea, to the depth of doom intolerable;
And they who erst were great,
And upon earth held high their pride and glory,
Are brought to low estate.
In underworld they waste and are diminished,
The while around them fleet
Dark wavings of my robes, and, subtly woven,
The paces of my feet.
Who falls infatuate, he sees not, neither knows he
That we are at his side;
So closely round about him, darkly flitting,
The cloud of guilt doth glide.
Heavily ’tis uttered, how around his hearthstone
The mirk of hell doth rise.
Stern and fixed the law is; we have hands t’achieve it,
Cunning to devise.
Queens are we and mindful of our solemn vengeance.
Not by tear or prayer
Shall a man avert it. In unhonoured darkness,
Far from gods, we fare,
Lit unto our task with torch of sunless regions,
And o’er a deadly way—
Deadly to the living as to those who see not
Life and light of day—
Hunt we and press onward. Who of mortals hearing
Doth not quake for awe,
Hearing all that Fate thro’ hand of God hath given us
For ordinance and law?
Yea, this right to us, in dark abysm and backward
Of ages it befel:
None shall wrong mine office, tho’ in nether regions
And sunless dark I dwell.
[_Enter Athena from above._
ATHENA
Far off I heard the clamour of your cry,
As by Scamander’s side I set my foot
Asserting right upon the land given o’er
To me by those who o’er Achaia’s host
Held sway and leadership: no scanty part
Of all they won by spear and sword, to me
They gave it, land and all that grew theron,
As chosen heirloom for my Theseus’ clan.
Thence summoned, sped I with a tireless foot,—
Hummed on the wind, instead of wings, the fold
Of this mine aegis, by my feet propelled,
As, linked to mettled horses, speeds a car.
And now, beholding here Earth’s nether brood,
I fear it nought, yet are mine eyes amazed
With wonder. Who are ye? of all I ask,
And of this stranger to my statue clinging.
But ye—your shape is like no human form,
Like to no goddess whom the gods behold,
Like to no shape which mortal women wear.
Yet to stand by and chide a monstrous form
Is all unjust—from such words Right revolts.
CHORUS
O child of Zeus, one word shall tell thee all.
We are the children of eternal Night,
And Furies in the underworld are called.
ATHENA
I know your lineage now and eke your name.
CHORUS
Yea, and eftsoons indeed my rights shalt know.
ATHENA
Fain would I learn them; speak them clearly forth.
CHORUS
We chase from home the murderers of men.
ATHENA
And where at last can he that slew make pause?
CHORUS
Where this is law—_All joy abandon here._
ATHENA
Say, do ye bay this man to such a flight?
CHORUS
Yea, for of choice he did his mother slay.
ATHENA
Urged by no fear of other wrath and doom?
CHORUS
What spur can rightly goad to matricide?
ATHENA
Two stand to plead—one only have I heard.
CHORUS
He will not swear nor challenge us to oath.
ATHENA
The form of justice, not its deed, thou willest.
CHORUS
Prove thou that word; thou art not scant of skill.
ATHENA
I say that oaths shall not enforce the wrong.
CHORUS
Then test the cause, judge and award the right.
ATHENA
Will ye to me then this decision trust?
CHORUS
Yea, reverencing true child of worthy sire.
ATHENA (_to Orestes_)
O man unknown, make thou thy plea in turn.
Speak forth thy land, thy lineage, and thy woes;
Then, if thou canst, avert this bitter blame—
If, as I deem, in confidence of right
Thou sittest hard beside my holy place,
Clasping this statue, as Ixion sat,
A sacred suppliant for Zeus to cleanse,—
To all this answer me in words made plain.
ORESTES
O queen Athena, first from thy last words
Will I a great solicitude remove.
Not one blood-guilty am I; no foul stain
Clings to thine image from my clinging hand;
Whereof one potent proof I have to tell.
Lo, the law stands—_The slayer shall not plead,
Till by the hand of him who cleanses blood
A suckling creature’s blood besprinkle him_.
Long since have I this expiation done,—
In many a home, slain beasts and running streams
Have cleansed me. Thus I speak away that fear.
Next, of my lineage quickly thou shalt learn:
An Argive am I, and right well thou know’st
My sire, that Agamemnon who arrayed
The fleet and them that went therein to war—
That chief with whom thy hand combined to crush
To an uncitied heap what once was Troy;
That Agamemnon, when he homeward came,
Was brought unto no honourable death,
Slain by the dark-souled wife who brought me forth
To him,—enwound and slain in wily nets,
Blazoned with blood that in the laver ran.
And I, returning from an exiled youth,
Slew her, my mother—lo, it stands avowed!
With blood for blood avenging my loved sire;
And in this deed doth Loxias bear part,
Decreeing agonies, to goad my will,
Unless by me the guilty found their doom.
Do thou decide if right or wrong were done—
Thy dooming, whatsoe’er it be, contents me.
ATHENA
Too mighty is this matter, whatsoe’er
Of mortals claims to judge hereof aright.
Yea, me, even me, eternal Right forbids
To judge the issues of blood-guilt, and wrath
That follows swift behind. This too gives pause,
That thou as one with all due rites performed
Dost come, unsinning, pure, unto my shrine.
Whate’er thou art, in this my city’s name,
As uncondemned, I take thee to my side,—
Yet have these foes of thine such dues by fate,
I may not banish them: and if they fail,
O’erthrown in judgment of the cause, forthwith
Their anger’s poison shall infect the land—
A dropping plague-spot of eternal ill.
Thus stand we with a woe on either hand:
Stay they, or go at my commandment forth,
Perplexity or pain must needs befall.
Yet, as on me Fate hath imposed the cause,
I choose unto me judges that shall be
An ordinance for ever, set to rule
The dues of blood-guilt, upon oath declared.
But ye, call forth your witness and your proof,
Words strong for justice, fortified by oath;
And I, whoe’er are truest in my town,
Them will I chose and bring, and straitly charge,
_Look on this cause, discriminating well,
And pledge your oath to utter nought of wrong._
[_Exit Athena._
CHORUS
Now are they all undone, the ancient laws,
If here the slayer’s cause
Prevail; new wrong for ancient right shall be
If matricide go free.
Henceforth a deed like his by all shall stand,
Too ready to the hand:
Too oft shall parents in the aftertime
Rue and lament this crime,—
Taught, not in false imagining, to feel
Their children’s thrusting steel:
No more the wrath, that erst on murder fell
From us, the queens of Hell.
Shall fall, no more our watching gaze impend—
Death shall smite unrestrained.
Henceforth shall one unto another cry
_Lo, they are stricken, lo, they fall and die
Around me!_ and that other answers him,
_O thou that lookest that thy woes should cease,
Behold, with dark increase
They throng and press upon thee; yea, and dim
Is all the cure, and every comfort vain!_
Let none henceforth cry out, when falls the blow
Of sudden-smiting woe,
Cry out in sad reiterated strain
_O Justice, aid! aid, O ye thrones of Hell!_
So though a father or a mother wail
New-smitten by a son, it shall no more avail,
Since, overthrown by wrong, the fane of Justice fell!
Know, that a throne there is that may not pass away,
And one that sitteth on it—even Fear,
Searching with steadfast eyes man’s inner soul:
Wisdom is child of pain, and born with many a tear;
But who henceforth,
What man of mortal men, what nation upon earth,
That holdeth nought in awe nor in the light
Of inner reverence, shall worship Right
As in the older day?
Praise not, O man, the life beyond control,
Nor that which bows unto a tyrant’s sway.
Know that the middle way
Is dearest unto God, and they thereon who wend,
They shall achieve the end;
But they who wander or to left or right
Are sinners in his sight.
Take to thy heart this one, this soothfast word—
Of wantonness impiety is sire;
Only from calm control and sanity unstirred
Cometh true weal, the goal of every man’s desire.
Yea, whatsoe’er befall, hold thou this word of mine:
_Bow down at Justice’ shrine,
Turn thou thine eyes away from earthly lure,
Nor with a godless foot that altar spurn._
For as thou dost shall Fate do in return,
And the great doom is sure.
Therefore let each adore a parent’s trust,
And each with loyalty revere the guest
That in his halls doth rest.
For whoso uncompelled doth follow what is just,
He ne’er shall be unblest;
Yea, never to the gulf of doom
That man shall come.
But he whose will is set against the gods,
Who treads beyond the law with foot impure,
Till o’er the wreck of Right confusion broods—
Know that for him, though now he sail secure,
The day of storm shall be; then shall he strive and fail,
Down from the shivered yard to furl the sail,
And call on Powers, that heed him nought, to save
And vainly wrestle with the whirling wave,
Hot was his heart with pride—
_I shall not fall_, he cried.
But him with watching scorn
The god beholds, forlorn,
Tangled in toils of Fate beyond escape,
Hopeless of haven safe beyond the cape—
Till all his wealth and bliss of bygone day
Upon the reef of Rightful Doom is hurled,
And he is rapt away
Unwept, for ever, to the dead forgotten world.
[_Re-enter Athena, with twelve Athenian citizens_.
ATHENA
O herald, make proclaim, bid all men come.
Then let the shrill blast of the Tyrrhene trump,
Fulfilled with mortal breath, thro’ the wide air
Peal a loud summons, bidding all men heed.
For, till my judges fill this judgment-seat,
Silence behoves,—that this whole city learn,
What for all time mine ordinance commands,
And these men, that the cause be judged aright.
[_Apollo approaches._
CHORUS
O king Apollo, rule what is thine own,
But in this thing what share pertains to thee?
APOLLO
First, as a witness come I, for this man
Is suppliant of mine by sacred right,
Guest of my holy hearth and cleansed by me
Of blood-guilt: then, to set me at his side
And in his cause bear part, as part I bore
Erst in his deed, whereby his mother fell.
Let whoso knoweth now announce the cause.
ATHENA (_to the Chorus_)
’Tis I announce the cause—first speech be yours;
For rightfully shall they whose plaint is tried
Tell the tale first and set the matter clear.
CHORUS
Though we be many, brief shall be our tale.
(_To Orestes_) Answer thou, setting word to match with word;
And first avow—hast thou thy mother slain?
ORESTES
I slew her. I deny no word hereof.
CHORUS
Three falls decide the wrestle—this is one.
ORESTES
Thou vauntest thee—but o’er no final fall.
CHORUS
Yet must thou tell the manner of thy deed.
ORESTES
Drawn sword in hand, I gashed her neck. ’Tis told.
CHORUS
But by whose word, whose craft, wert thou impelled?
ORESTES
By oracles of him who here attests me.
CHORUS
The prophet-god bade thee thy mother slay?
ORESTES
Yea, and thro’ him less ill I fared, till now.
CHORUS
If the vote grip thee, thou shalt change that word.
ORESTES
Strong is my hope; my buried sire shall aid.
CHORUS
Go to now, trust the dead, a matricide!
ORESTES
Yea, for in her combined two stains of sin.
CHORUS
How? speak this clearly to the judges’ mind.
ORESTES
Slaying her husband, she did slay my sire.
CHORUS
Therefore thou livest; death assoils her deed.
ORESTES
Then while she lived why didst thou hunt her not?
CHORUS
She was not kin by blood to him she slew.
ORESTES
And I, am I by blood my mother’s kin?
CHORUS
O cursed with murder’s guilt, how else wert thou
The burden of her womb? Dost thou forswear
Thy mother’s kinship, closest bond of love?
ORESTES
It is thine hour, Apollo—speak the law,
Averring if this deed were justly done;
For done it is, and clear and undenied.
But if to thee this murder’s cause seem right
Or wrongful, speak—that I to these may tell.
APOLLO
To you, Athena’s mighty council-court,
Justly for justice will I plead, even I,
The prophet-god, nor cheat you by one word.
For never spake I from my prophet-seat
One word, of man, of woman, or of state,
Save what the Father of Olympian gods
Commanded unto me. I rede you then,
Bethink you of my plea, how strong it stands,
And follow the decree of Zeus our sire,—
For oaths prevail not over Zeus’ command.
CHORUS
Go to; thou sayest that from Zeus befel
The oracle that this Orestes bade
With vengeance quit the slaying of his sire,
And hold as nought his mother’s right of kin!
APOLLO
Yea, for it stands not with a common death,
That he should die, a chieftain and a king
Decked with the sceptre which high heaven confers—
Die, and by female hands, not smitten down
By a far-shooting bow, held stalwartly
By some strong Amazon. Another doom
Was his: O Pallas, hear, and ye who sit
In judgment, to discern this thing aright!—
She with a specious voice of welcome true
Hailed him, returning from the mighty mart
Where war for life gives fame, triumphant home;
Then o’er the laver, as he bathed himself,
She spread from head to foot a covering net,
And in the endless mesh of cunning robes
Enwound and trapped her lord, and smote him down.
Lo, ye have heard what doom this chieftain met,
The majesty of Greece, the fleet’s high lord:
Such as I tell it, let it gall your ears,
Who stand as judges to decide this cause.
CHORUS
Zeus, as thou sayest, holds a father’s death
As first of crimes,—yet he of his own act
Cast into chains his father, Cronos old:
How suits that deed with that which now ye tell?
O ye who judge, I bid ye mark my words!
APOLLO
O monsters loathed of all, O scorn of gods,
He that hath bound may loose: a cure there is,
Yea, many a plan that can unbind the chain.
But when the thirsty dust sucks up man’s blood
Once shed in death, he shall arise no more.
No chant nor charm for this my Sire hath wrought.
All else there is, he moulds and shifts at will,
Not scant of strength nor breath, whate’er he do.