VOICE.
Woe, woe!
The burden of the wrath of fate!
GUARDS.
Ha, listen! Wait.
Crouch on the ground; it may be yet
730
Our man is drawing to the net.
VOICE.
1
Woe, woe!
The burden of the hills of
Thrace
!
LEADER.
An ally? None of Hellene race.
733
VOICE.
Woe, woe!
Yea, woe to me and woe to thee,
My master! Once to set thine eye
On
Ilion
the accurst, and die!
735
736
LEADER
(calling aloud).
Ho there! What ally passes? The dim night
Blurreth mine eyes; I cannot see thee right.
738
VOICE.
Ho, some one of the Trojan name!
Where sleeps your king beneath his shield,
Hector? What marshal of the field
740
Will hear our tale . . . the men who came
And struck us and were gone; and we,
We woke and there was nought to see,
But our own misery.
745
LEADER.
I cannot hear him right; it sounds as if
745
The Thracians were surprised or in some grief.
747
There enters a wounded man, walking with difficulty; he is the Thracian Charioteer who came with RHESUS.
THRACIAN.
The army lost and the king slain,
Stabbed in the dark! Ah, pain! pain!
This deep raw wound . . . Oh, let me die
By thy side, Master, by thy side!
750
In shame together let us lie
Who came to save, and failed and died.
2
754
LEADER.
This needs no surmise: ’tis disaster plain
That comes. He speaketh of some ally slain.
755
THRACIAN.
3
Disaster, yea: and with disaster shame,
Which lights Disaster to a twofold flame
Of evil. For to die in soldier’s wise,
Since die we needs must . . . though the man who dies
Hath pain . . . to all his house ’tis praise and pride;
760
But we, like laggards and like fools we died!
When Hector’s hand had showed us where to rest
And told the watchword, down we lay, oppressed
With weariness of that long march, and slept
Just as we fell. No further watch was kept,
765
Our arms not laid beside us; by the horse
No yoke nor harness ordered. Hector’s force
Had victory, so my master heard, and lay
Secure, just waiting for the dawn of day
To attack. So thought we all, and our lines broke
770
And slept. After a little time I woke,
Thinking about my horses, that the morn
Must see them yoked for war. I found the corn
And gave them plenteously. Then in the deep
Shadow I saw two men who seemed to creep
Close by our line, but swiftly, as I stirred,
Crouched and were seeking to make off unheard.
775
I shouted then, and bade them keep away:
Two thieves, I thought, from the great host that lay
Round us. They never answered, and, for me,
I said no more but turned and presently
780
Was sleeping. In my sleep there came a dream.
780
I seemed to see the horses—mine own team
I had trained long since and drove at Rhesus’ side—
But wolves were on their backs, wolves, couched astride,
Who drove and scourged; I saw the horses rear
And stagger with wide nostrils, stiff with fear,
785
And, starting up to drive the beasts away,
I woke.—A terror of great darkness lay
About me, but I lifted up my head
And listened. There was moaning, like the dead
That moan at night, and over me there flowed,
790
So soft, so warm—it was my master’s blood,
Who writhed beside me, dying! With a bound
I sprang up, empty-handed, groping round
For spear or sword, when, lo, a young strong man
Was close to me and slashed, and the sword ran
795
Deep through my flank. I felt its passage well,
So deep, so wide, so spreading . . . then I fell.
And they, they got the bridles in their hand
And fled .... Ah! Ah! This pain. I cannot stand.
The Guards catch him as he reels, and lay him on the ground.
I know, I saw, thus much. But why or how
800
Those dead men went to death I cannot know,
Nor by whose work. But this I say; God send
’Tis not foul wrong wrought on us by a friend.
LEADER.
Good charioteer of that ill-fortuned king,
Suspect us not. ’Tis Greeks have done this thing.
805
But yonder Hector comes. He hath been shown
The foul deed, and thy sorrows are his own.
Enter HECTOR in wrath, with a band of Guards.
HECTOR.
Ye workers of amazement! Have your eyes
No sight? Ye watch and let these
Argive
spies
Pass—and our friends are butchered in their sleep—
4
810
And then pass back unwounded, laughing deep
Amid the galleys at the news they bring
Of Trojan sluggards and the fool their king?
Great God, ye never baulked them as they came,
Nor smote them as they went!
His eye falls on the CAPTAIN.
Who bears the blame
Of this but thou? Thou wast the watcher set
To guard this host till morn. I tell thee yet
815
For this deed—I have sworn by Zeus our Lord !—
The scourge of torment or the headsman’s sword
Awaits thee. Else, be Hector in your thought
Writ down a babbler and a man of nought.
820
LEADER
(grovelling before HECTOR)
5
Woe, woe! It was for thee, only for thee,
820
I must have gone, O Help and Majesty,
6
That time with message that the fires were burning.
7
Mine eye was keen; I swear by Simois river,
825
It never drooped nor slumbered, never, never,
From eve till morning!
My master, verily, I am innocent utterly,
Build not such wrath against me, Lord, nor harden
Thy heart; let Time be judge; and if in deed
830
Or word I have offended, let me bleed!
Bury me here alive! I ask no pardon.
833
THRACIAN.
HECTOR is standing over him ready to strike when the CHARIOTEER speaks.
Why threaten them? Art thou a Greek to blind
My barbarous wit so nimbly, in a wind
Of words? This work was thine. And no man’s head
835
Is asked by us, the wounded and the dead,
Save thine. It needs more play, and better feigned,
To hide from me that thou hast slain thy friend
By craft, to steal his horses.—That is why
He stabs his friends. He prays them earnestly,
840
Prays them to come; they came and they are dead.
A cleaner man was Paris, when he fled
With his host’s wife. He was no murderer.
Profess not thou that any Greek was there
To fall on us. What Greek could pass the screen
Of Trojan posts in front of us, unseen?
845
Thyself was stationed there, and all thy men.
What man of yours was slain or wounded when
Your Greek spies came? Not one; ’tis we, behind,
Are wounded, and some worse than wounded, blind
Forever to the sunlight. When we seek
850
Our vengeance, we shall go not to the Greek.
What stranger in that darkness could have trod
Straight to where Rhesus lay—unless some God
Pointed his path? They knew not, whispered not,
Rhesus had ever come. . . . ’Tis all a plot.
855
HECTOR
(steadied and courteous again).
Good allies I have had since first the Greek
Set foot in
Troy
, and never heard them speak
Complaint of Hector. Thou wilt be the first.
I have not, by God’s mercy, such a thirst
For horses as to murder for their sake.
860
He turns to his own men.
Odysseus! Yet again Odysseus! Take
All the Greek armies, is there one but he
Could have devised, or dared, this devilry?
I fear him; yea, fear in mine own despite,
Lest Dolon may have crossed him in the night
And perished; ’tis so long he cometh not.
865
THRACIAN.
I know not who Odysseus is, nor what.
I know it was no Greek that wounded us.
HECTOR.
To think thus pleasures thee? Well, have it thus.
THRACIAN.
Home, home! To die at home and rest my head!
HECTOR.
Nay, die not, friend. We have enough of dead.
870
THRACIAN.
How can I live? Lost, and my master slain.
HECTOR.
My house will shelter thee and heal thy pain.
THRACIAN.
Thy house? Will murderers’ nursing give me peace?
HECTOR.
Still the same tale! This man will never cease.
THRACIAN.
My curse rest—not on Hector, but on those
875
Who stabbed us, as thou say’st.—Ah, Justice knows!
8
HECTOR.
There, lift him.—Bear him to my house. Take pains,
If care can do it, that the man complains
No more of Troy.—Ye others, bear withal
To Priam and the Elders of the Wall
880
My charge, that, where the cart-road from the plain
Branches, they make due burial for our slain.
One party of Guards lifts carefully the wounded THRACIAN and goes off bearing him: another departs with the message to Troy.
CHORUS.
Back from the heights of happiness,
Back, back, to labour and distress
Some god that is not ours doth lead
Troy and her sons; He sows the seed,
Who knows the reaping?
In the air at the back there appears a Vision of the MUSE holding the body of her dead son RHESUS.
9
Ah! Ah!
885
My king, what cometh? There appears
Some Spirit, like a mist of tears;
And in her arms a man lieth,
So young, so wearied unto death;
To see such vision presageth
Wrath and great weeping.
The Guards hide their heads in their mantles.
890
MUSE.
Nay, look your fill, ye Trojans. It is I,
890
The many-sistered Muse, of worship high
In wise men’s hearts, who come to mourn mine own
Most pitifully loved, most injured, son,
For whose shed blood Odysseus yet shall pay
Vengeance, who crawled and stabbed him where he lay.
MUSE.
With a dirge of the Thracian mountains,
10
895
I mourn for thee, O my son.
For a mother’s weeping, for a galley’s launching, for
the way to Troy;
A sad going, and watched by spirits of evil.
His mother chid him to stay, but he rose and went.
900
His father besought him to stay, but he went in anger.
Ah, woe is me for thee, thou dear face,
My belovèd and my son!
904
LEADER.
Goddess, if tears for such as thee may run
In our low eyes, I weep for thy dead son.
905
MUSE.
I say to thee: Curse Odysseus,
And cursèd be Diomede!
For they made me childless, and forlorn for ever, of
the flower of sons.
Yea, curse Helen, who left the houses of
Hellas
.
910
She knew her lover, she feared not the ships and sea.
She called thee, called thee, to die for the sake of Paris,
Belovèd, and a thousand cities
She made empty of good men.
915
O conquered Thamyris, is this thy bane
11
915
Returned from death to pierce my heart again?
Thy pride it was, and bitter challenge cast
’Gainst all the Muses, did my flesh abase
To bearing of this Child, what time I passed
Through the deep stream and looked on Strymon’s face,
920
And felt his great arms clasp me, when to old
Pangaion and the earth of hoarded gold
We Sisters came with lutes and psalteries,
Provoked to meet in bitter strife of song
That mountain wizard, and made dark the eyes
925
Of Thamyris, who wrought sweet music wrong.
I bore thee, Child; and then, in shame before
My sisterhood, my dear virginity,
I stood again upon thy Father’s shore
And cast thee to the deeps of him; and he
Received and to no mortal nursing gave
His child, but to the Maidens of the Wave.
And well they nursed thee, and a king thou wast
930
And first of
Thrace
in war; yea, far and near
Through thine own hills thy bloody chariot passed,
Thy battered helm flashed, and I had no fear;
Only to Troy I charged thee not to go:
I knew the fated end: but Hector’s cry,
935
Borne overseas by embassies of woe,
Called thee to battle for thy friends and die.
And thou, Athena—nothing was the deed
Odysseus wrought this night nor Diomede—
’Tis thine, all thine; dream not thy cruel hand
940
Is hid from me! Yet ever on thy land
The Muse hath smiled; we gave it praise above
All cities, yea, fulfilled it with our love.
The light of thy great Mysteries was shed
By Orpheus, very cousin of this dead
Whom thou hast slain; and thine high citizen
945
Musaeus, wisest of the tribes of men,
We and Apollo guided all his way:
For which long love behold the gift ye pay!
I wreathe him in my arms; I wail his wrong
Alone, and ask no other mourner’s song.
She weeps over RHESUS.
LEADER.
Hector, thou hearest. We were guiltless here,
12
950
And falsely spake that Thracian charioteer.
952
HECTOR.
Always I knew it. Had we any need
Of seers to tell this was Odysseus’ deed?
For me, what could I else, when I beheld
The hosts of
Argos
camped upon this field,
What but with prayers and heralds bid my friend
955
Come forth and fight for
Ilion
ere the end?
He owed me that.—Yet, now my friend is slain,
His sorrow is my sorrow. On this plain
I will uplift a wondrous sepulchre,
And burn about it gifts beyond compare
Of robes and frankincense. To Troy’s relief
960
He came in love and parteth in great grief.
MUSE.
My son shall not be laid in any grave
13
Of darkness; thus much guerdon will I crave
Of Death’s eternal bride, the heavenly-born
Maid of Demeter, Life of fruits and corn,
To set this one soul free. She owes me yet,
965
For Orpheus widowed, an abiding debt.
To me he still must be—that know I well—
As one in death, who sees not. Where I dwell
He must not come, nor see his mother’s face.
Alone for ever, in a caverned place
970
Of silver-veinèd earth, hid from men’s sight,
A Man yet Spirit, he shall live in light:
As under far Pangaion Orpheus lies,
Priest of great light and worshipped of the wise.
Howbeit an easier anguish even to me
Falls than to Thetis in her azure sea;
975
For her son too shall die; and sorrowing,
First on the hills our band for thee shall sing,
Then for Achilles by the weeping wave.
Pallas could murder thee, but shall not save
Thy foe; too swift Apollo’s bolt shall fly.
O fleshly loves of sad mortality,
980
O bitter motherhood of these that die,
She that hath wisdom will endure her doom,
The days of emptiness, the fruitless womb;
Not love, not bear love’s children to the tomb.
The VISION rises through the air and vanishes.
LEADER.
The dead man sleepeth in his mother’s care;
14
But we who battle still—behold, the glare
Of dawn that rises. Doth thy purpose hold,
Hector, our arms are ready as of old.
985
HECTOR.
March on; and bid the allies with all speed
Be armed, bind fast the yoke upon the steed,
Then wait with torches burning, till we sound
The Tuscan trump.—This day we shall confound,
God tells me, their Greek phalanx, break their high
990
Rampart and fire the galleys where they lie.
Pointing to the dawn.
Yon first red arrow of the Sun, that brings
The dawn to Troy, hath freedom on his wings.
CHORUS.
The Chief hath spoken: let his will
Be law, ye Trojans.—Raise the cry
To Arms! To Arms! and down the line
995
Of allies pass the battle-sign.
The God of
Ilion
liveth still;
And men may conquer ere they die.
Exeunt.Rhesus. Euripides. Gilbert Murray (Translator). London. 1913.
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