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.