IOL. Why com’st thou hither, O my son, with eyes
Expressive of affliction? from the foe
What recent information canst thou give?
Do they delay their march, are they at hand,
Or bring’st thou any tidings? for the threats
That herald uttered sure will be accomplished.
Blest in the favour of the gods, the tyrant
Exults, I know, and arrogantly deems
That he o’er Athens shall prevail; but Jove
Chastises the presumptuous.
DEM. Argos comes
With numerous squadrons, and its king Eurystheus,
Myself beheld him. It behoves the man
Who claims the merit of an able chief,
Not to depend upon his spies alone
To mark the foe’s approach. But with his host
He hath not yet invaded these domains,
But halting on yon mountain’s topmost ridge
Observes (I from conjecture speak) the road
By which he may lead forth his troops to battle,
And where he in this realm with greatest safety
May station them. Already have I made
Each preparation to repel their onset.
The city is in arms, the victims stand
Before the altars, with their blood t’ appease
The wrath of every god, and due lustrations
Are sprinkled by the seers, that o’er our foes
We may obtain a triumph, and preserve
This country. Every prophet who expounds
The oracles, convening, have I searched
Into each sage response of ancient times,
Or public or concealed, on which depends
The welfare of the realm. In all beside
Differ Heaven’s mandates: but one dread behest
Runs through the several auspices, to Ceres
They bid me sacrifice some blooming maid
Who from a nobler sire derives her birth.
Zeal have I shown abundant in your cause,
But will not slay my daughter, nor constrain
Any Athenian citizen to make
Such an abhorred oblation: for the man
Exists not, who is so devoid of reason,
As willingly to yield his children up
With his own hands. But what afflicts me most
Is this: tumultuous crowds appear; some cry,
’Tis just that we the foreign suppliants aid,
But others blame my folly. If no means
Can be devised to satisfy them all,
Soon will a storm of civil war arise.
See thou to this, and think of some expedient,
How ye and how this country may be saved,
Without the citizens’ calumnious tongues
My fame assailing. For I rule not here
With boundless power, like a barbarian king;
Let but my deeds be just, and in return
Shall I experience justice.
CHOR. Will not Jove
Suffer this city to exert its courage,
And aid these hapless strangers as we wish?
IOL. Our situation, O my sons, resembles
That of the mariners, who having ’scaped
The storm’s relentless fury, when in sight
Of land, are from the coast by adverse winds
Driven back into the deep. Thus from this realm
Just as we reach the shore, like shipwrecked men,
Are we expelled. O inauspicious Hope,
Why didst thou soothe me with ideal joy,
Although it was ordained that thou should’st leave
Thy favours incomplete? The king deserves
At least to be excused, if he consent not
To slay his subjects’ daughters; to this city
My praise is due, and if the gods would place me
In the same prosperous fortunes, from my soul
Your benefits should never be effaced.
But now, alas! no counsel can I give
To you, my children. Whither shall we turn?
What god have we neglected? To what land
Have we not fled for shelter? We must perish,
We shall be yielded up. My being doomed
To die, I heed but for this cause alone,
That by my death I shall afford delight
To our perfidious foes. But, O my sons.
For you I weep, I pity you, I pity
Alcmena, aged mother of your sire,
Oh, most unhappy in a life too long!
I too am wretched, who unnumbered toils
Have fruitlessly endured; it was ordained,
It was ordained, alas! that we should fall
Into the hands of our relentless foes,
And meet a shameful, miserable death.
Know you, what still remains for you to do,
On my behalf? For all my hopes of saving
The children are not vanished. In their stead
Me to the Argive host surrender up,
O king, and rush not into needless danger,
Yet save these children. To retain a love
Of life becomes me not; I yield it up
Without regret. It is Eurystheus’ wish
The rather to seize me, and to expose
To infamy, because I was the comrade
Of Hercules; for frenzy hath possessed
His soul. The wise man, e’en in those he hates,
Had rather find discretion than a want
Of understanding; for a foe endued
With sense will pay due reverence to the vanquished.
CHOR. Forbear, old man, thus hastily to blame
This city; for to us though it might prove
More advantageous, yet to our disgrace
Would it redound, should we betray our guests.
DEM. A generous, but impracticable, scheme
Is that thou hast proposed: for Argos’ king
In quest of thee no squadrons hither leads.
What profit to Eurystheus from the death
Of one so old as thou art could arise?
He wants to murder _these_: for to their foes
The rising blossoms of a noble race,
To whom the memory of their father’s wrongs
Is present, must be dreadful: for all this
He cannot but foresee. But if thou know
Of any other counsel more expedient,
Adopt it; for my soul hath been perplexed,
Since that oracular response I heard
Which fills me with unwelcome apprehensions.
[_Exit_ DEMOPHOON.