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First Semichorus
What
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means this silence in front of the palace? why is the house of Admetus stricken dumb?
What
1
means this silence in front of the palace? why is the house of Admetus stricken dumb?
Second Semichorus
Not one friend near
to say if we must mourn our queen as dead, or if she liveth yet and sees the sun, Alcestis, daughter of Pelias, by me and all esteemed the best of wives
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to her husband.
85
Not one friend near
to say if we must mourn our queen as dead, or if she liveth yet and sees the sun, Alcestis, daughter of Pelias, by me and all esteemed the best of wives
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to her husband.
85
First Semichorus
Doth any of you hear a groan, or sound of hands that smite together, or the voice of lamentation, telling all is over and done? Yet is there no servant
stationed about the gate, no, not one. O come, thou saving god, to smooth the swelling waves of woe!
2
90
Doth any of you hear a groan, or sound of hands that smite together, or the voice of lamentation, telling all is over and done? Yet is there no servant
stationed about the gate, no, not one. O come, thou saving god, to smooth the swelling waves of woe!
2
90
Second Semichorus
Surely, were she dead, they would not be so still.
Surely, were she dead, they would not be so still.
First Semichorus
Maybe her corpse is not yet from the house borne forth.
Maybe her corpse is not yet from the house borne forth.
Second Semichorus
Whence that inference? I am not so sanguine. What gives thee confidence?
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Whence that inference? I am not so sanguine. What gives thee confidence?
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First Semichorus
How could Admetus let his noble wife go unattended to the grave?
How could Admetus let his noble wife go unattended to the grave?
Second Semichorus
Before the gates I see no lustral water from the spring, as custom doth ordain should be
at the gates of the dead, no shorn lock lies on the threshold, which, as thou knowest, falls in mourning for the dead, no choir of maidens smites its youthful
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palms together.
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Before the gates I see no lustral water from the spring, as custom doth ordain should be
at the gates of the dead, no shorn lock lies on the threshold, which, as thou knowest, falls in mourning for the dead, no choir of maidens smites its youthful
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palms together.
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First Semichorus
And yet this is the appointed day.
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And yet this is the appointed day.
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Second Semichorus
What meanest thou by this?
What meanest thou by this?
First Semichorus
The day appointed for the journey to the world below.
The day appointed for the journey to the world below.
Second Semichorus
Thou hast touched me to the heart, e’en to the soul.
Thou hast touched me to the heart, e’en to the soul.
Chorus
Whoso from his youth up has been accounted virtuous,
needs must weep to see the good suddenly cut off.
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Whoso from his youth up has been accounted virtuous,
needs must weep to see the good suddenly cut off.
110
Chorus
’Tis done; no single spot in all the world remains whither one might steer a course, either to Lycia
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or to the parched abodes
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of Ammon to release the hapless lady’s soul; on comes death with step abrupt,
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nor know I to whom I should go of all who at the gods’ altars offer sacrifice.
120
’Tis done; no single spot in all the world remains whither one might steer a course, either to Lycia
4
or to the parched abodes
5
of Ammon to release the hapless lady’s soul; on comes death with step abrupt,
115
nor know I to whom I should go of all who at the gods’ altars offer sacrifice.
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Chorus
Only the son of Phoebus,
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if he yet saw this light of day—
Ah! then then might she have left the dark abode and gates of Hades and have come again, for he would raise the dead to life, till that the thunderbolt’s forked flame, hurled by Zeus, smote him.
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But now what further hope of life can I welcome to me?
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Only the son of Phoebus,
6
if he yet saw this light of day—
Ah! then then might she have left the dark abode and gates of Hades and have come again, for he would raise the dead to life, till that the thunderbolt’s forked flame, hurled by Zeus, smote him.
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But now what further hope of life can I welcome to me?
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Chorus
Our lords have ere this done all they could; on every altar streams the blood of abundant sacrifice;
yet our sorrows find no cure.
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Our lords have ere this done all they could; on every altar streams the blood of abundant sacrifice;
yet our sorrows find no cure.
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Alcestis. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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