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Megara
Old warrior, who once razed the citadel of the Taphians leading on the troops of
Thebes
to glory, how uncertain are the gods’ dealings with man! I, for instance, as far as concerned my father, was never an outcast of fortune, for he was once accounted a man of might by reason of his wealth,
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possessed as he was of royal power, for which long spears are launched at the lives of the fortunate through love of it; children too he had; and he gave me to your son, matching me in glorious marriage with Heracles. And now all that is dead and gone from us;
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and I and you, old friend, are doomed to die, and these children of Heracles, whom I am guarding beneath my wing as a bird keeps her tender chicks under her. And they one after another keep asking me:
Mother, tell us, where is our father gone from the land?
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what is he doing? when will he return? Thus they inquire for their father, in childish perplexity; while I put them off with excuses, inventing stories; but still I wonder if it is he whenever a door creaks on its hinges, and up they all start, thinking to embrace their father’s knees.
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What hope or way of salvation are you now devising, old friend? for I look to you. We can never steal beyond the boundaries of the land unseen, for there is too strict a watch set on us at every outlet, nor have we any longer hopes of safety
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in our friends. Whatever your scheme is, declare it, lest our death be made ready.
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Old warrior, who once razed the citadel of the Taphians leading on the troops of
Thebes
to glory, how uncertain are the gods’ dealings with man! I, for instance, as far as concerned my father, was never an outcast of fortune, for he was once accounted a man of might by reason of his wealth,
60
possessed as he was of royal power, for which long spears are launched at the lives of the fortunate through love of it; children too he had; and he gave me to your son, matching me in glorious marriage with Heracles. And now all that is dead and gone from us;
65
and I and you, old friend, are doomed to die, and these children of Heracles, whom I am guarding beneath my wing as a bird keeps her tender chicks under her. And they one after another keep asking me:
Mother, tell us, where is our father gone from the land?
70
what is he doing? when will he return? Thus they inquire for their father, in childish perplexity; while I put them off with excuses, inventing stories; but still I wonder if it is he whenever a door creaks on its hinges, and up they all start, thinking to embrace their father’s knees.
75
What hope or way of salvation are you now devising, old friend? for I look to you. We can never steal beyond the boundaries of the land unseen, for there is too strict a watch set on us at every outlet, nor have we any longer hopes of safety
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in our friends. Whatever your scheme is, declare it, lest our death be made ready.
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Amphitryon
It is by no means easy, my daughter, to give one’s earnest advice on such matters off hand, without weary thought; but let us prolong the time, since we are powerless to escape.
It is by no means easy, my daughter, to give one’s earnest advice on such matters off hand, without weary thought; but let us prolong the time, since we are powerless to escape.
Megara
Do you need a further taste of grief, or do you cling so fast to life?
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Do you need a further taste of grief, or do you cling so fast to life?
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Amphitryon
Yes, I love this life, and cling to its hopes.
Yes, I love this life, and cling to its hopes.
Megara
So do I; but you should not expect the unexpected, old friend.
So do I; but you should not expect the unexpected, old friend.
Amphitryon
In these delays the only cure for our evils is left.
In these delays the only cure for our evils is left.
Megara
It is the biting pain of that interval I feel so.
It is the biting pain of that interval I feel so.
Amphitryon
Daughter, there may yet be a happy escape from present troubles for me and you; my son, your husband, may yet arrive. So calm yourself, and wipe those tears from your children’s eyes, and soothe them with soft words,
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inventing a tale to delude then, piteous though such fraud be. Yes, for even men’s misfortunes often flag, and the stormy wind does not always blow so strong, nor are the prosperous ever so; for all things change, making way for each other.
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The bravest man is he who relies ever on his hopes, but despair is the mark of a coward.
105
Daughter, there may yet be a happy escape from present troubles for me and you; my son, your husband, may yet arrive. So calm yourself, and wipe those tears from your children’s eyes, and soothe them with soft words,
95
inventing a tale to delude then, piteous though such fraud be. Yes, for even men’s misfortunes often flag, and the stormy wind does not always blow so strong, nor are the prosperous ever so; for all things change, making way for each other.
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The bravest man is he who relies ever on his hopes, but despair is the mark of a coward.
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Chorus
To the sheltering roof, to the old man’s couch, leaning on my staff have I set forth,
chanting a plaintive dirge like some bird grown grey, I that am only a voice and a fancy bred of the visions of sleep by night, palsied with age, yet meaning kindly. All hail! you orphaned children!
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all hail, old friend! you too, unhappy mother, wailing for your husband in the halls of Hades!
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To the sheltering roof, to the old man’s couch, leaning on my staff have I set forth,
chanting a plaintive dirge like some bird grown grey, I that am only a voice and a fancy bred of the visions of sleep by night, palsied with age, yet meaning kindly. All hail! you orphaned children!
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all hail, old friend! you too, unhappy mother, wailing for your husband in the halls of Hades!
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Heracles. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1891.
Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.
Funding provided by The Annenberg CPB/Project.