The Temple at Delphi


THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS


FIRST, in this prayer, of all the gods I name      
The prophet-mother Earth; and Themis next,      
Second who sat—for so with truth is said—      
On this her mother’s shrine oracular.           4   
Then by her grace, who unconstrained allowed,      
There sat thereon another child of Earth—      
Titanian Phœbe. She, in aftertime,      
Gave o’er the throne, as birth-gift to a god,           8   
Phœbus, who in his own bears Phœbe’s name.      
He from the lake and ridge of Delos’ isle      
Steered to the port of Pallas’ Attic shores,      
The home of ships; and thence he passed and came           12   
Unto this land and to Parnassus’ shrine.      
And at his side, with awe revering him,      
There went the children of Hephæstus’ seed,      
The hewers of the sacred way, who tame           16   
The stubborn tract that erst was wilderness.      
  And all this folk, and Delphos, chieftain—king      
Of this their land, with honour gave him home;      
And in his breast Zeus set a prophet’s soul,           20   
And gave to him this throne, whereon he sits,      
Fourth prophet of the shrine, and, Loxias hight,      
Gives voice to that which Zeus, his sire, decrees.      
    
Such gods I name in my preluding prayer,           24   
And after them, I call with honour due      
On Pallas, wardress of the fane, and Nymphs      
Who dwell around the rock Corycian,      
Where in the hollow cave, the wild birds’ haunt,           28   
Wander the feet of lesser gods; and there,      
Right well I know it, Bromian Bacchus dwells,      
Since he in godship led his Mænad host,      
Devising death for Pentheus, whom they rent           32   
Piecemeal, as hare among the hounds. And last,      
I call on Pleistus’ springs, Poseidon’s might,      
And Zeus most high, the great Accomplisher.      
Then as a seeress to the sacred chair           36   
I pass and sit; and may the powers divine      
Make this mine entrance fruitful in response      
Beyond each former advent, triply blest.      
And if there stand without, from Hellas bound,           40   
Men seeking oracles, let each pass in      
In order of the lot, as use allows;      
For the god guides whate’er my tongue proclaims.  [She goes into the interior of the temple; after a short interval, she returns in great fear.      
Things fell to speak of, fell for eyes to see,           44   
Have sped me forth again from Loxias’ shrine,      
With strength unstrung, moving erect no more,      
But aiding with my hands my failing feet,      
Unnerved by fear. A beldame’s force is naught—           48   
Is as a child’s, when age and fear combine.      
For as I pace towards the inmost fane      
Bay-filleted by many a suppliant’s hand,      
Lo, at the central altar I descry           52   
One crouching as for refuge—yea, a man      
Abhorred of heaven; and from his hands, wherein      
A sword new-drawn he holds, blood reeked and fell:      
A wand he bears, the olive’s topmost bough,           56   
Twined as of purpose with a deep close tuft      
Of whitest wool. This, that I plainly saw,      
Plainly I tell. But lo, in front of him,      
Crouched on the altar-steps, a grisly band           60   
Of women slumbers—not like women they,      
But Gorgons rather; nay, that word is weak,      
Nor may I match the Gorgons’ shape with theirs!      
Such have I seen in painted semblance erst—           64   
Winged Harpies, snatching food from Phineus’ board,—      
But these are wingless, black, and all their shape      
The eye’s abomination to behold.      
Fell is the breath—let none draw nigh to it—           68   
Wherewith they snort in slumber; from their eyes      
Exude the damnèd drops of poisonous ire:      
And such their garb as none should dare to bring      
To statues of the gods or homes of men.           72   
I wot not of the tribe wherefrom can come      
So fell a legion, nor in what land Earth      
Could rear, unharmed, such creatures, nor avow      
That she had travailed and brought forth death.           76   
But, for the rest, be all these things a care      
Unto the mighty Loxias, the lord      
Of this our shrine: healer and prophet he,      
Discerner he of portents, and the cleanser           80   
Of other homes—behold, his own to cleanse!  [Exit.
[The scene opens, disclosing the interior of the temple: Orestes clings to the central altar; the Furies lie slumbering at a little distance; Apollo and Hermes appear from the innermost shrine.      
    
APOLLO


Lo, I desert thee never: to the end,      
Hard at thy side as now, or sundered far,      
I am thy guard, and to thine enemies           84   
Implacably oppose me: look on them,      
These greedy fiends, beneath my craft subdued!      
See, they are fallen on sleep, these beldames old,      
Unto whose grim and wizened maidenhood           88   
Nor god nor man nor beast can e’er draw near.      
Yea, evil were they born, for evil’s doom,      
Evil the dark abyss of Tartarus      
Wherein they dwell, and they themselves the hate           92   
Of men on earth, and of Olympian gods.      
But thou, flee far and with unfaltering speed;      
For they shall hunt thee through the mainland wide      
Where’er throughout the tract of travelled earth           96   
Thy foot may roam, and o’er and o’er the seas      
And island homes of men. Faint not nor fail,      
Too soon and timidly within thy breast      
Shepherding thoughts forlorn of this thy toil;           100   
But unto Pallas’ city go, and there      
Crouch at her shrine, and in thine arms enfold      
Her ancient image: there we well shall find      
Meet judges for this cause and suasive pleas,           104   
Skilled to contrive for thee deliverance      
From all this woe. Be such my pledge to thee,      
For by my hest thou didst thy mother slay.      
    
ORESTES


O king Apollo, since right well thou know’st           108   
What justice bids, have heed, fulfil the same,—      
Thy strength is all-sufficient to achieve.      
    
APOLLO


Have thou too heed, nor let thy fear prevail      
Above thy will. And do thou guard him, Hermes,           112   
Whose blood is brother unto mine, whose sire      
The same high God. Men call thee guide and guard,      
Guide therefore thou and guard my suppliant;      
For Zeus himself reveres the outlaw’s right,           116   
Boon of fair escort, upon man conferred.      
  [Exeunt Apollo, Hermes, and Orestes. The Ghost of Clytemnestra rises.      
    
GHOST OF CLYTEMNESTRA


Sleep on! awake! what skills your sleep to me—      
Me, among all the dead by you dishonoured—           120   
Me from whom never, in the world of death,      
Dieth this curse, ’Tis she who smote and slew,      
And shamed and scorned I roam? Awake, and hear      
My plaint of dead men’s hate intolerable.           124   
Me, sternly slain by them that should have loved,      
Me doth no god arouse him to avenge,      
Hewn down in blood by matricidal hands.      
Mark ye these wounds from which the heart’s blood ran,           128   
And by whose hand, bethink ye! for the sense      
When shut in sleep hath then the spirit-sight,      
But in the day the inward eye is blind.      
List, ye who drank so oft with lapping tongue           132   
The wineless draughty by me outpoured to soothe      
Your vengeful ire! how oft on kindled shrine      
I laid the feast of darkness, at the hour      
Abhorred of every god but you alone!           136   
Lo, all my service trampled down and scorned!      
And he hath baulked your chase, as stag the hounds;      
Yea, lightly bounding from the circling toils,      
Hath wried his face in scorn, and flieth far.           140   
Awake and hear—for mine own soul I cry—      
Awake, ye powers of hell! the wandering ghost      
That once was Clytemnestra calls—Arise!  [The Furies mutter grimly, as in a dream.      
Mutter and murmur! He hath flown afar—           144   
My kin have gods to guard them, I have none!  [The Furies mutter as before.      
O drowsed in sleep too deep to heed my pain!      
Orestes flies, who me, his mother, slew.  [The Furies give a confused cry.      
Yelping, and drowsed again? Up and be doing           148   
That which alone is yours, the deed of hell!  [The Furies give another cry.      
Lo, sleep and toil, the sworn confederates,      
Have quelled your dragon-anger, once so fell!      
    
THE FURIES (muttering more fiercely and loudly)


Seize, seize, seize, seize—mark, yonder!           152   
    
GHOST


In dreams ye chase a prey, and like some hound,      
That even in sleep doth ply his woodland toil,      
Ye bell and bay. What do ye, sleeping here?      
Be not o’ercome with toil, nor, sleep-subdued,           156   
Be heedless of my wrong. Up! thrill your heart      
With the just chidings of my tongue,—such words      
Are as a spur to purpose firmly held.      
Blow forth on him the breath of wrath and blood,           160   
Scorch him with reek of fire that burns in you,      
Waste him with new pursuit—swift, hound him down!  [Ghost sinks.      
    
FIRST FURY (awaking)


Up! rouse another as I rouse thee; up!      
Sleep’st thou? Rise up, and spurning sleep away,           164   
See we if false to us this prelude rang.      
    
CHORUS OF FURIES


Alack, alack, O sisters, we have toiled,      
  O much and vainly have we toiled and borne!      
Vainly! and all we wrought the gods have foiled,           168   
                    And turnèd us to scorn!      
He hath slipped from the net, whom we chased: he hath ’scaped us who should be our prey—      
O’ermastered by slumber we sank, and our quarry hath stolen away!      
Thou, child of the high God Zeus, Apollo, hast robbed us and wronged;           172   
Thou, a youth, hast down-trodden the right that to godship more ancient belonged;      
Thou hast cherished thy suppliant man; the slayer, the God-forsaken,      
The bane of a parent, by craft from out of our grasp thou hast taken;      
A god, thou hast stolen from us, the avengers, a matricide son—           176   
And who shall consider thy deed and say, It is rightfully done?      
            The sound of chiding scorn      
            Came from the land of dream;      
    Deep to mine inmost heart I felt it thrill and burn,           180   
        Thrust as a strong-grasped goad, to urge      
          Onward the chariot’s team.      
        Thrilled, chilled with bitter inward pain      
    I stand as one beneath the doomsman’s scourge.           184   
    Shame on the younger gods who tread down right,      
        Sitting on thrones of might!      
    Woe on the altar of earth’s central fane!      
        Clotted on step and shrine,           188   
Behold, the guilt of blood, the ghastly stain!      
  Woe upon thee, Apollo! uncontrolled,      
    Unbidden, hast thou, prophet-god, imbrued      
    The pure prophetic shrine with wrongful blood!           192   
  For thou too heinous a respect didst hold      
Of man, too little heed of powers divine!      
    And us the Fates, the ancients of the earth,      
        Didst deem as nothing worth.           196   
Scornful to me thou art, yet shalt not fend      
  My wrath from him; though unto hell he flee,      
            There too are we!      
And he, the blood-defiled, should feel and rue,           200   
Though I were not, fiend-wrath that shall not end,      
Descending on his head who foully slew.  [Re—enter Apollo from the inner shrine.      
    
APOLLO


Out! I command you. Out from this my home—      
Haste, tarry not! Out from the mystic shrine,           204   
Lest thy lot be to take into thy breast      
The winged bright dart that from my golden string      
Speeds hissing as a snake,—lest, pierced and thrilled      
With agony, thou shouldst spew forth again           208   
Black frothy heart’s-blood, drawn from mortal men,      
Belching the gory clots sucked forth from wounds.      
These be no halls where such as you can prowl—      
Go where men lay on men the doom of blood,           212   
Heads lopped from necks, eyes from their spheres plucked out,      
Hacked flesh, the flower of youthful seed crushed out,      
Feet hewn away, and hands, and death beneath      
The smiting stone, low moans and piteous           216   
Of men impaled—Hark, hear ye for what feast      
Ye hanker ever, and the loathing gods      
Do spit upon your craving? Lo, your shape      
Is all too fitted to your greed; the cave           220   
Where lurks some lion, lapping gore, were home      
More meet for you. Avaunt from sacred shrines,      
Nor bring pollution by your touch on all      
That nears you. Hence! and roam unshepherded—           224   
No god there is to tend sn]uch herd as you.      
    
CHORUS


O king Apollo, in our turn hear us.      
Thou hast not only part in these ill things,      
But art chief cause and doer of the same.           228   
    
APOLLO


How? stretch thy speech to tell this, and have done.      
    
CHORUS


Thine oracle bade this man slay his mother.      
    
APOLLO


I bade him quit his sire’s death,—wherefore not?      
    
CHORUS


Then didst thou aid and guard red-handed crime.           232   
    
APOLLO


Yea, and I bade him to this temple flee.      
    
CHORUS


And yet forsooth dost chide us following him!      
    
APOLLO


Ay—not for you it is, to near this fane.      
    
CHORUS


Yet is such office ours, imposed by fate.           236   
    
APOLLO


What office? vaunt the thing ye deem so fair.      
    
CHORUS


From home to home we chase the matricide.      
    
APOLLO


What? to avenge a wife who slays her lord?      
    
CHORUS


That is not blood outpoured by kindred hands.           240   
    
APOLLO


How darkly ye dishonour and annul      
The troth to which the high accomplishers,      
Hera and Zeus, do honour. Yea, and thus      
Is Aphrodite to dishonour cast,           244   
The queen of rapture unto mortal men.      
Know that above the marriage-bed ordained      
For man and woman standeth Right as guard,      
Enhancing sanctity of troth-plight sworn;           248   
Therefore, if thou art placable to those      
Who have their consort slain, nor will’st to turn      
On them the eye of wrath, unjust art thou      
In hounding to his doom the man who slew           252   
His mother. Lo, I know thee full of wrath      
Against one deed, but all too placable      
Unto the other, minishing the crime.      
But in this cause shall Pallas guard the right.           256   
    
CHORUS


Deem not my quest shall ever quit that man.      
    
APOLLO


Follow then, make thee double toil in vain!      
    
CHORUS


Think not by speech mine office to curtail.      
    
APOLLO


None hast thou, that I would accept of thee!           260   
    
CHORUS


Yea, high thine honour by the throne of Zeus:      
But I, drawn on by scent of mother’s blood,      
Seek vengeance on this man and hound him down.      
    
APOLLO


But I will stand beside him; ’tis for me           264   
To guard my suppliant: gods and men alike      
Do dread the curse of such an one betrayed,      
And in me Fear and Will say, Leave him not.  [Exeunt omnes.      
    
The scene changes to Athens. In the foreground, the Temple of Athena on the Acropolis; her statue stands in the centre; Orestes is seen clinging to it.
        268   
    
ORESTES


Look on me, queen Athena; lo, I come      
By Loxias’ behest; thou of thy grace      
Receive me, driven of avenging powers—      
Not now a red—hand slayer unannealed,           272   
But with guilt fading, half effaced, outworn      
On many homes and paths of mortal men.      
For to the limit of each land, each sea,      
I roamed, obedient to Apollo’s hest,           276   
And come at last, O Goddess, to thy fane,      
And clinging to thine image, bide my doom.  [Enter the Chorus of Furies, questing like hounds.      
    
CHORUS


Ho! clear is here the trace of him we seek:      
Follow the track of blood, the silent sign!           280   
Like to some hound that hunts a wounded fawn,      
We snuff along the scent of dripping gore,      
And inwardly we pant, for many a day      
Toiling in chase that shall fordo the man;           284   
For o’er and o’er the wide land have I ranged,      
And o’er the wide sea, flying without wings,      
Swift as a sail I pressed upon his track,      
Who now hard by is crouching, well I wot,           288   
For scent of mortal blood allures me here.      
    Follow, seek him—round and round      
Scent and snuff and scan the ground,      
Lest unharmed he slip away,           292   
    He who did his mother slay!      
Hist—he is there! See him his arms entwine      
Around the image of the maid divine—      
    Thus aided, for the deed he wrought           296   
    Unto the judgment wills he to be brought.      
    
It may not be! a mother’s blood, poured forth      
    Upon the stainèd earth,      
None gathers up: it lies—bear witness, Hell!—           300   
    For aye indelible!      
And thou who sheddest it shalt give thine own      
    That shedding to atone!      
Yea, from thy living limbs I suck it out,           304   
    Red, clotted, gout by gout,—      
A draught abhorred of men and gods; but I      
    Will drain it, suck thee dry;      
Yea, I will waste thee living, nerve and vein;           308   
    Yea, for thy mother slain,      
Will drag thee downward, there where thou shalt dree      
    The weird of agony!      
And thou and whatsoe’er of men hath sinned—           312   
    Hath wronged or God, or friend,      
Or parent,—learn ye how to all and each      
    The arm of doom can reach!      
Sternly requiteth, in the world beneath,           316   
    The judgment-seat of Death;      
Yea, Death, beholding every man’s endeavour,      
    Recordeth it for ever.      
    
ORESTES


I, schooled in many miseries, have learnt           320   
How many refuges of cleansing shrines      
There be; I know when law alloweth speech      
And when imposeth silence. Lo, I stand      
Fixed now to speak, for he whose word is wise           324   
Commands the same. Look, how the stain of blood      
Is dull upon mine hand and wastes away,      
And laved and lost therewith is the deep curse      
Of matricide; for while the guilt was new,           328   
’Twas banished from me at Apollo’s hearth,      
Atoned and purified by death of swine.      
Long were my word if I should sum the tale,      
How oft since then among my fellow-men           332   
I stood and brought no curse. Time cleanses all—      
Time, the coeval of all things that are.      
Now from pure lips, in words of omen fair,      
I call Athena, lady of this land,           336   
To come, my champion: so, in aftertime,      
She shall not fail of love and service leal,      
Not won by war, from me and from my land      
And all the folk of Argos, vowed to her.           340   
Now, be she far away in Libyan land      
Where flows from Triton’s lake her natal wave,—      
Stand she with planted feet, or in some hour      
Of rest conceal them, champion of her friends           344   
Where’er she be,—or whether o’er the plain      
Phlegræan she look forth, as warrior bold—      
I cry to her to come, where’er she be      
(And she, as goddess, from afar can hear),           348   
And aid and free me, set among my foes.      
    
CHORUS


Thee not Apollo nor Athena’s strength      
Can save from perishing, a castaway      
Amid the Lost, where no delight shall meet           352   
Thy soul—a bloodless prey of nether powers,      
A shadow among shadows. Answerest thou      
Nothing? dost cast away my words with scorn,      
Thou, prey prepared and dedicate to me?           356   
Not as a victim slain upon the shrine,      
But living shalt thou see thy flesh my food.      
Hear now the binding chant that makes thee mine.      
    
    Weave the weird dance,—behold the hour           360   
      To utter forth the chant of hell,      
      Our sway among mankind to tell,      
    The guidance of our power.      
    Of Justice are we ministers,           364   
      And whosoe’er of men may stand      
      Lifting a pure unsullied hand,      
    That man no doom of ours incurs,      
      And walks thro’ all his mortal path           368   
      Untouched by woe, unharmed by wrath.      
      But if, as yonder man, he hath      
    Blood on the hands he strives to hide,      
      We stand avengers at his side,           372   
    Decreeing, Thou hast wronged the dead:      
      We are doom’s witnesses to thee.      
    The price of blood his hands have shed,      
    We wring from him; in life, in death,           376   
      Hard at his side are we!      
    
Night, Mother Night, who brought me forth, a torment      
          To living men and dead,      
Hear me, O hear! by Leto’s stripling son           380   
          I am dishonoured:      
He hath ta’en from me him who cowers in refuge,      
          To me made consecrate,—      
A rightful victim, him who slew his mother,           384   
          Given o’er to me and Fate.      
    
          Hear the hymn of hell,      
            O’er the victim sounding,—      
          Chant of frenzy, chant of ill,           388   
            Sense and will confounding!      
          Round the soul entwining      
            Without lute or lyre—      
          Soul in madness pining,           392   
            Wasting as with fire!      
    
Fate, all—pervading Fate, this service spun, commanding      
          That I should bide therein:      
Whosoe’er of mortals, made perverse and lawless,           396   
          Is stained with blood of kin,      
By his side are we, and hunt him ever onward,      
          Till to the Silent Land,      
 

The realm of death, he cometh; neither yonder           400   
          In freedom shall he stand.      
    
          Hear the hymn of hell,      
            O’er the victim sounding,—      
          Chant of frenzy, chant of ill,           404   
            Sense and will confounding!      
          Round the soul entwining      
            Without lute or lyre—      
          Soul in madness pining,           408   
            Wasting as with fire!      
    
When from womb of Night we sprang, on us this labour      
          Was laid and shall abide.      
Gods immortal are ye, yet beware ye touch not           412   
          That which is our pride!      
None may come beside us gathered round the blood feast—      
          For us no garments white      
Gleam on a festal day; for us a darker fate is,           416   
          Another darker rite.      
That is mine hour when falls an ancient line—      
          When in the household’s heart      
The god of blood doth slay by kindred hands,—           420   
          Then do we bear our part:      
On him who slays we sweep with chasing cry:      
          Though he be triply strong,      
We wear and waste him; blood atones for blood,           424   
          New pain for ancient wrong.      
    
I hold this task—’tis mine, and not another’s.      
          The very gods on high,      
Though they can silence and annul the prayers           428   
          Of those who on us cry,      
They may not strive with us who stand apart,      
          A race by Zeus abhorred,      
Blood-boltered, held unworthy of the council           432   
          And converse of heaven’s lord.      
Therefore the more I leap upon my prey;      
          Upon their head I bound;      
My foot is hard; as one that trips a runner           436   
          I cast them to the ground;      
Yea, to the depth of doom intolerable;      
          And they who erst were great,      
And upon earth held high their pride and glory,           440   
          Are brought to low estate,      
In underworld they waste and are diminished,      
          The while around them fleet      
Dark wavings of my robes, and, subtly woven,           444   
          The paces of my feet.      
    
Who falls infatuate, he sees not, neither knows he      
          That we are at his side;      
So closely round about him, darkly flitting,           448   
          The cloud of guilt doth glide.      
Heavily ’tis uttered, how around his hearthstone      
          The mirk of hell doth rise.      
Stern and fixed the law is; we have hands t’ achieve it,           452   
          Cunning to devise.      
Queens are we and mindful of our solemn vengeance.      
          Not by tear or prayer      
Shall a man avert it. In unhonoured darkness,           456   
          Far from gods, we fare,      
Lit unto our task with torch of sunless regions,      
          And o’er a deadly way—      
Deadly to the living as to those who see not           460   
          Life and light of day—      
Hunt we and press onward. Who of mortals hearing      
          Doth not quake for awe,      
Hearing all that Fate thro’ hand of God hath given us           464   
          For ordinance and law?      
Yea, this right to us, in dark abysm and backward      
          Of ages it befel:      
None shall wrong mine office, tho’ in nether regions           468   
          And sunless dark I dwell.  [Enter Athena from above.      
    
ATHENA


Far off I heard the clamour of your cry,      
As by Scamander’s side I set my foot      
Asserting right upon the land given o’er           472   
To me by those who o’er Achaia’s host      
Held sway and leadership: no scanty part      
Of all they won by spear and sword, to me      
They gave it, land and all that grew thereon,           476   
As chosen heirloom for my Theseus’ clan.      
Thence summoned, sped I with a tireless foot,—      
Hummed on the wind, instead of wings, the fold      
Of this mine ægis, by my feet propelled,           480   
As, linked to mettled horses, speeds a car.      
And now, beholding here Earth’s nether brood,      
I fear it nought, yet are mine eyes amazed      
With wonder. Who are ye? of all I ask,           484   
And of this stranger to my statue clinging.      
But ye—your shape is like no human form,      
Like to no goddess whom the gods behold,      
Like to no shape which mortal women wear.           488   
Yet to stand by and chide a monstrous form      
Is all unjust—from such words Right revolts.      
    
CHORUS


O child of Zeus, one word shall tell thee all.      
We are the children of eternal Night,           492   
And Furies in the underworld are called.      
    
ATHENA


I know your lineage now and eke your name.      
    
CHORUS


Yea, and eftsoons indeed my rights shalt know.      
    
ATHENA


Fain would I learn them; speak them clearly forth.           496   
    
CHORUS


We chase from home the murderers of men.      
    
ATHENA


And where at last can he that slew make pause?      
    
CHORUS


Where this is law—All joy abandon here.      
    
ATHENA


Say, do ye bay this man to such a flight?           500   
    
CHORUS


Yea, for of choice he did his mother slay.      
    
ATHENA


Urged by no fear of other wrath and doom?      
    
CHORUS


What spur can rightly goad to matricide?      
    
ATHENA


Two stand to plead—one only have I heard.           504   
    
CHORUS


He will not swear nor challenge us to oath.      
    
ATHENA


The form of justice, not its deed, thou willest.      
    
CHORUS


Prove thou that word; thou art not scant of skill.      
    
ATHENA


I say that oaths shall not enforce the wrong.           508   
    
CHORUS


Then test the cause, judge and award the right.      
    
ATHENA


Will ye to me then this decision trust?      
    
CHORUS


Yea, reverencing true child of worthy sire.      
    
ATHENA (to Orestes)


O man unknown, make thou thy plea in turn.           512   
Speak forth thy land, thy lineage, and thy woes;      
The, if thou canst, avert this bitter blame—      
If, as I deem, in confidence of right      
Thou sittest hard beside my holy place,           516   
Clasping this statue, as Ixion sat,      
A sacred suppliant for Zeus to cleanse,—      
To all this answer me in words made plain.      
    
ORESTES


O queen Athena, first from thy last words           520   
Will I a great solicitude remove.      
Not one blood-guilty am I no foul stain      
Clings to thine image from my clinging hand;      
Whereof one potent proof I have to tell.           524   
Lo, the law stands—The slayer shall not plead,      
Till by the hand of him who cleanses blood      
A suckling creature’s blood besprinkle him.      
Long since have I this expiation done,—           528   
In many a home, slain beasts and running streams      
Have cleansed me. Thus I speak away that fear.      
Next, of my lineage quickly thou shalt learn:      
An Argive am I, and right well thou know’st           532   
My sire, that Agamemnon who arrayed      
The fleet and them that went therein to war—      
That chief with whom thy hand combined to crush      
To an uncitied heap what once was Troy;           536   
That Agamemnon, when he homeward came,      
Was brought unto no honourable death,      
Slain by the dark-souled wife who brought me forth      
To him,—enwound and slain in wily nets,           540   
Blazoned with blood that in the laver ran.      
And I, returning from an exiled youth,      
Slew her, my mother—lo, it stands avowed!      
With blood for blood avenging my loved sire;           544   
And in this deed doth Loxias bear part,      
Decreeing agonies, to goad my will,      
Unless by me the guilty found their doom.      
Do thou decide if right or wrong were done—           548   
Thy dooming, whatsoe’er it be, contents me.      
    
ATHENA


Too mighty is this matter, whatsoe’er      
Of mortals claims to judge hereof aright.      
Yea, me, even me, eternal Right forbids           552   
To judge the issues of blood-guilt, and wrath      
That follows swift behind. This too gives pause,      
That thou as one with all due rites performed      
Dost come unsinning, pure, unto my shrine.           556   
Whate’er thou art, in this my city’s name,      
As uncondemned, I take thee to my side.—      
Yet have these foes of thine such dues by fate,      
I may not banish them: and if they fail,           560   
O’erthrown in judgment of the cause, forthwith      
Their anger’s poison shall infect the land—      
A dropping plague-spot of eternal ill.      
Thus stand we with a woe on either hand:           564   
Stay they, or go at my commandment forth,      
Perplexity or pain must needs befal.      
Yet, as on me Fate hath imposed the cause,      
I choose unto me judges that shall be           568   
An ordinance for ever, set to rule      
The dues of blood-guilt, upon oath declared.      
But ye, call forth your witness and your proof,      
Words strong for justice, fortified by oath;           572   
And I, whoe’er are truest in my town,      
Them will I choose and bring, and straitly charge,      
Look on this cause, discriminating well,      
And pledge your oath to utter nought of wrong.  [Exit Athena.           576   
    
CHORUS


Now are they all undone, the ancient laws,      
    If here the slayer’s cause      
Prevail; new wrong for ancient right shall be      
    If matricide go free.           580   
Henceforth a deed like his by all shall stand,      
    Too ready to the hand:      
Too oft shall parents in the aftertime      
    Rue and lament this crime,—           584   
Taught, not in false imagining, to feel      
    Their children’s thrusting steel:      
No more the wrath that erst on murder fell      
    From us, the queens of hell,           588   
Shall fall, no more our watching gaze impend—      
    Death shall smite unrestrained.      
    
Henceforth shall one unto another cry,      
Lo, they are stricken, lo, they fall and die           592   
Around me! and that other answers him,      
O thou that lookest that thy woes should cease,      
    Behold, with dark increase      
They throng and press upon thee; yea, and dim           596   
    Is all the cure, and every comfort vain!      
    
Let none henceforth cry out, when falls the blow      
    Of sudden—smiting woe,      
  Cry out, in sad reiterated strain,           600   
O Justice, aid! aid, O ye thrones of hell!      
    So though a father or a mother wail      
  New-smitten by a son, it shall no more avail,      
Since, overthrown by wrong, the fane of Justice fell!           604   
    
Know that a throne there is that may not pass away,      
  And one that sitteth on it—even Fear,      
Searching with steadfast eyes man’s inner soul:      
Wisdom is child of pain, and born with many a tear;           608   
        But who henceforth,      
What man of mortal men, what nation upon earth,      
  That holdeth nought in awe nor in the light      
  Of inner reverence, shall worship Right           612   
        As in the older day?      
    
  Praise not, O man, the life beyond control,      
  Nor that which bows unto a tyrant’s sway.      
        Know that the middle way           616   
Is dearest unto God, and they thereon who wend,      
        They shall achieve the end;      
  But they who wander or to left or right      
        Are sinners in his sight.           620   
    Take to thy heart this one, this soothfast word—      
      Of wantonness impiety is sire;      
    Only from calm control and sanity unstirred      
  Cometh true weal, the goal of every man’s desire.           624   
    
  Yea, whatsoe’er befal, hold thou this word of mine:      
          Bow down at Justice’ shrine,      
      Turn thou thine eyes away from earthly lure,      
    Nor with a godless foot that altar spurn.           628   
    For as thou dost shall Fate do in return,      
          And the great doom is sure.      
    Therefore let each adore a parent’s trust,      
      And each with loyalty revere the guest           632   
          That in his halls doth rest.      
  For whoso uncompelled doth follow what is just,      
          He ne’er shall be unblest;      
      Yea, never to the gulf of doom           636   
          That man shall come.      
    
  But he whose will is set against the gods,      
    Who treads beyond the law with foot impure,      
  Till o’er the wreck of Right confusion broods,—           640   
    Know that for him, though now he sail secure,      
The day of storm shall be; then shall he strive and fail      
  Down from the shivered yard to furl the sail,      
And call on powers that heed him nought, to save,           644   
  And vainly wrestle with the whirling wave.      
        Hot was his heart with pride—      
        I shall not fall, he cried.      
        But him with watching scorn           648   
        The god beholds, forlorn,      
    Tangled in toils of Fate beyond escape,      
    Hopeless of haven safe beyond the cape—      
  Till all his wealth and bliss of bygone day           652   
    Upon the reef of Rightful Doom is hurled,      
        And he is rapt away      
  Unwept, for ever, to the dead forgotten world.  [Re-enter Athena, with twelve Athenian citizens.      
    
ATHENA


O herald, make proclaim, bid all men come.           656   
Then let the shrill blast of the Tyrrhene trump,      
Fulfilled with mortal breath, thro’ the wide air      
Peal a loud summons, bidding all men heed.      
For, till my judges fill this judgment-seat,           660   
Silence behoves,—that this whole city learn      
What for all time mine ordinance commands,      
And these men, that the cause be judged aright.  [Apollo approaches.      
    
CHORUS


O king Apollo, rule what is thine own,           664   
But in this thing what share pertains to thee?      
    
APOLLO


First, as a witness come I, for this man      
Is suppliant of mine by sacred right,      
Guest of my holy hearth and cleansed by me           668   
Of blood-guilt: then, to set me at his side      
And in his cause bear part, as part I bore      
Erst in his deed, whereby his mother fell.      
Let whoso knoweth now announce the cause.           672   
    
ATHENA (to the Chorus)


’Tis I announce the cause—first speech be yours;      
For rightfully shall they whose plaint is tried      
Tell the tale first and set the matter clear.           676   
    
CHORUS


Though we be many, brief shall be our tale.      
(To Orestes) Answer thou, setting word to match with word;      
And first avow—hast thou thy mother slain?      
    
ORESTES


I slew her. I deny no word hereof.           680   
    
CHORUS


Three falls decide the wrestle—this is one.      
    
ORESTES


Thou vauntest thee—but o’er no final fall.      
    
CHORUS


Yet must thou tell the manner of thy deed.      
    
ORESTES


Drawn sword in hand, I gashed her neck, ’Tis told.           684   
    
CHORUS


But by those word, whose craft, wert thou impelled?      
    
ORESTES


By oracles of him who here attests me.      
    
CHORUS


The prophet-god bade thee thy mother slay?      
    
ORESTES


Yea, and thro’ him less ill I fared, till now.           688   
    
CHORUS


If the vote grip thee, thou shalt change that word.      
    
ORESTES


Strong is my hope; my buried sire shall aid.      
    
CHORUS


Go to now, trust the dead, a matricide!      
    
ORESTES


Yea, for in her combined two stains of sin.           692   
    
CHORUS


How? speak this clearly to the judges’ mind.      
    
ORESTES


Slaying her husband, she did slay my sire.      
    
CHORUS


Therefore thou livest; death assoils her deed.      
    
ORESTES


Then while she lived why didst thou hunt her not?           696   
    
CHORUS


She was not kin by blood to him she slew.      
    
ORESTES


And I, am I by blood my mother’s kin?      
    
CHORUS


O cursed with murder’s guilt, how else wert thou      
The burden of her womb? Dost thou forswear           700   
Thy mother’s kinship, closest bond of love?      
    
ORESTES


It is thine hour, Apollo—speak the law,      
Averring if this deed were justly done;      
For done it is, and clear and undenied.           704   
But if to thee this murder’s cause seem right      
Or wrongful, speak—that I to these may tell.      
    
APOLLO


To you, Athena’s mighty council-court,      
Justly for justice will I plead, even I,           708   
The prophet-god, nor cheat you by one word.      
For never spare I from my prophet-seat      
One word, of man, of woman, or of state,      
Save what the Father of Olympian gods           712   
Commanded unto me. I rede you then,      
Bethink you of my plea, how strong it stands,      
And follow the decree of Zeus, or sire,—      
For oaths prevail not over Zeus’ command.           716   
    
CHORUS


Go to; thou sayest that from Zeus befal      
The oracle that this Orestes bade      
With vengeance quit the slaying of his sire,      
And hold as nought his mother’s right of kin!           720   
    
APOLLO


Yea, for it stands not with a common death,      
That he should die, a chieftain and a king      
Decked with the sceptre which high heaven confers—      
Die, and by female hands, not smitten down           724   
By a far-shooting bow, held stalwartly      
By some strong Amazon. Another doom      
Was his: O Pallas, hear, and ye who sit      
In judgment, to discern this thing aright!—           728   
She with a specious voice of welcome true      
Hailed him, returning from the mighty mart      
Where war for life gives fame, triumphant home;      
Then o’er the laver, as he bathed himself;           732   
She spread from head to foot a covering net,      
And in the endless mesh of cunning robes      
Enwound and trapped her lord, and smote him down.      
Lo, ye have heard what doom this chieftain met,           736   
The majesty of Greece, the fleets high lord:      
Such as I tell it, let it gall your ears,      
Who stand as judges to decide this cause.      
    
CHORUS


Zeus, as thou sayest, holds a father’s death           740   
As first of crimes,—yet he of his own act      
Cast into chains his father, Cronos old:      
How suits that deed with that which now ye tell?      
O ye who judge, I bid ye mark by words!           744   
    
APOLLO


O monsters loathed of all, O scorn of gods,      
He that hath bound my loose: a cure there is,      
Yea, many a plan that can unbind the chain.      
But when the thirsty dust sucks up man’s blood           748   
Once shed in death, he shall arise no more.      
No chant nor charm for this my Sire hath wrought.      
All else there is, he moulds and shifts at will,      
Not scant of strength nor breath, whate’er he do.           752   
    
CHORUS


Think yet for what acquittal thou dost plead:      
He who hath shed a mother’s kindred blood,      
Shall he in Argos dwell, where dwelt his sire?      
How shall he stand before the city’s shrines,           756   
How share the clansmen’s holy lustral bowl?      
    
APOLLO


This too I answer; mark a soothfast word:      
Not the true parent is the woman’s womb      
That bears the child; she doth but nurse the seed           760   
New-sown: the male is parent; she for him,      
As stranger for a stranger, hoards the germ      
Of life, unless the god its promise blight.      
And proof hereof before you will I set.           764   
Birth may from fathers, without mothers, be:      
See at your side a witness of the same,      
Athena, daughter of Olympian Zeus,      
Never within the darkness of the womb           768   
Fostered nor fashioned, but a bud more bright      
Than any goddess in her breast might bear.      
And I, O Pallas, howsoe’er I may,      
Henceforth will glorify thy town, thy clan,           772   
And for this end have sent my suppliant here      
Unto thy shrine; that he from this time forth      
Be loyal unto thee for evermore,      
O goddess—queen, and thou unto thy side           776   
Mayst win and hold him faithful, and his line,      
And that for aye this pledge and troth remain      
To children’s children of Athenian seed.      
    
ATHENA


Enough is said; I bid the judges now           780   
With pure intent deliver just award.      
    
CHORUS


We too have shot our every shaft of speech,      
And now abide to hear the doom of law.      
    
ATHENA (to Apollo and Orestes)


        784   
Say, how ordaining shall I ’scape your blame?      
    
APOLLO


I spake, ye heard; enough. O stranger men,      
Heed well your oath as ye decide the cause.      
    
ATHENA


O men of Athens, ye who first to judge           788   
The law of bloodshed, hear me now ordain.      
Here to all time for Ægeus’ Attic host      
Shall stand this council-court of judges sworn,      
Here the tribunal, set on Ares’ Hill           792   
Where camped of old the tented Amazons,      
What time in hate of Theseus they assailed      
Athens, and set against her citadel      
A counterwork of new sky-pointing towers,           796   
And there to Ares held their sacrifice,      
Where now the rock hath name, even Ares’ Hill.      
And hence shall Reverence and her kinsman Fear

Pass to each free man’s heart, by day and night           800   
Enjoining, Thou shalt do no unjust thing,      
So long as law stands as it stood of old      
Unmarred by civic change. Look you, the spring      
Is pure; but foul it once with influx vile           804   
And muddy clay, and none can drink thereof.      
Therefore, O citizens, I bid ye bow      
In awe to this command, Let no man live      
Uncurbed by law nor curbed by tyranny;           808   
Nor banish ye the monarchy of Awe      
Beyond the walls; untouched by fear divine,      
No man doth justice in the world of men.      
Therefore in purity and holy dread           812   
Stand and revere; so shall ye have and hold      
A saving bulwark of the state and land,      
Such as no man hath ever elsewhere known,      
Nor in far Scythia, nor in Pelops’ realm.           816   
Thus I ordain it now, a council-court      
Pure and unsullied by the lust of gain,      
Sacred and swift to vengeance, wakeful ever      
To champion men who sleep, the country’s guard.           820   
Thus have I spoken, thus to mine own clan      
Commended it for ever. Ye who judge,      
Arise, take each his vote, mete out the right,      
Your oath revering. Lo, my word is said.  [The twelve judges come forward, one by one, to the urns of decision; the first votes; as each of the others follows, the Chorus and Apollo speak alternately.           824   
    
CHORUS


I rede ye well, beware! nor put to shame,      
In aught, this grievous company of hell.      
    
APOLLO


I too would warn you, fear mine oracles—      
From Zeus they are,—nor make them void of fruit.           828   
    
CHORUS


Presumptuous is thy claim blood-guilt to judge,      
And false henceforth thine oracles shall be.      
    
APOLLO


Failed then the counsels of my sire, when turned      
Ixion, first of slayers, to his side?           832   
    
CHORUS


These are but words; but I, if justice fail me,      
Will haunt this land in grim and deadly deed.      
    
APOLLO


Scorn of the younger and the elder gods      
Art thou: ’tis I that shall prevail anon.           836   
    
CHORUS


Thus didst thou too of old in Pheres’ halls,      
O’erreaching Fate to make a mortal deathless,      
    
APOLLO


Was it not well my worshipper to aid,      
Then most of all when hardest was the need?           840   
    
CHORUS


I say thou didst annul the lots of life,      
Cheating with wine the deities of eld.      
    
APOLLO


I say thou shalt anon, thy pleadings foiled,      
Spit venom vainly on thine enemies.           844   
    
CHORUS


Since this young god o’errides mine ancient right,      
I tarry but to claim your law, not knowing      
If wrath of mine shall blast your state or spare.      
    
ATHENA


Mine is the right to add the final vote,           848   
And I award it to Orestes’ cause.      
For me no mother bore within her womb,      
And, save for wedlock evermore eschewed,      
I vouch myself the champion of the man,           852   
Not of the woman, yea, with all my soul,—      
In heart, as birth, a father’s child alone.      
Thus will I not too heinously regard      
A woman’s death who did her husband slay,           856   
The guardian of her home; and if the votes      
Equal do fall, Orestes shall prevail.      
Ye of the judges who are named thereto,      
Swiftly shake forth the lots from either urn.  [Two judges come forward, one to each urn.           860   
    
ORESTES


O bright Apollo, what shall be the end?      
    
CHORUS


O Night, dark mother mine, dost mark these things?      
    
ORESTES


Now shall my doom be life or strangling cords.      
    
CHORUS


And mine, lost honour or a wider sway.           864   
    
APOLLO


O stranger judges, sum aright the count      
Of votes cast forth, and, parting them, take heed      
Ye err not in decision. The default      
Of one vote only bringeth ruin deep;           868   
One, cast aright, doth stablish house and home.      
    
ATHENA


Behold, this man is free from guilt of blood,      
For half the votes condemn him, half set free!      
    
ORESTES


O Pallas, light and safety of my home,           872   
Thou, thou hast given me back to dwell once more      
In that my fatherland, amerced of which      
I wandered; now shall Grecian lips say this,      
The man is Argive once again, and dwells           876   
Again within his father’s wealthy hall,      
By Pallas saved, by Loxias, and by Him,      
The great third saviour, Zeus omnipotent—      
Who thus in pity for my father’s fate           880   
Doth pluck me from my doom, beholding these,      
Confederates of my mother. Lo, I pass      
To mine own home, but proffering this vow      
Unto thy land and people: Nevermore,           884   
Thro’ all the manifold years of Time to be,      
Shall any chieftain of mine Argive land      
Bear hitherward his spears for fight arrayed.      
For we, though lapped in earth we then shall lie,           888   
By thwart adversities will work our will      
On them who shall transgress this oath of mine,      
Paths of despair and journeyings ill-starred      
For them ordaining, till their task they rue.           892   
But if this oath be rightly kept, to them      
Will we, the dead, be full of grace, the while      
With loyal league they honour Pallas’ town.      
And now farewell, thou and thy city’s folk—           896   
Firm be thine arms’ grasp, closing with thy foes,      
And, strong to save, bring victory to thy spear.  [Exit Orestes, with Apollo.      
    
CHORUS


    Woe on you, younger gods! the ancient right      
    Ye have o’erridden, rent it from my hands.           900   
    
    I am dishonoured of you, thrust to scorn!      
            But heavily my wrath      
    Shall on this land fling forth the drops that blast and burn.      
    Venom of vengeance, that shall work such scathe           904   
    As I have suffered; where that dew shall fall,      
            Shall leafless blight arise.      
    Wasting Earth’s offspring,—Justice, hear my call!—      
    And thorough all the land in deadly wise           908   
    Shall scatter venom, to exude again      
            In pestilence of men.      
    What cry avails me now, what deed of blood,      
    Unto this land what dark despite?           912   
            Alack, alack, forlorn      
      Are we, a bitter injury have borne!      
      Alack, O sisters, O dishonoured brood      
              Of mother Night!           916   
    
ATHENA


Nay, bow ye to my words, chafe not nor moan:      
Ye are not worsted nor disgraced; behold,      
With balanced vote the cause had issue fair,      
Nor in the end did aught dishonour thee.           920   
But thus the will of Zeus shone clearly forth,      
And his own prophet—god avouched the same,      
Orestes slew: his slaying is atoned.      
Therefore I pray you, not upon this land           924   
Shoot forth the dart of vengeance; be appeased,      
Nor blast the land with blight, nor loose thereon      
Drops of eternal venom, direful darts      
Wasting and marring nature’s seed of growth.           928   
For I, the queen of Athens’ sacred right,      
Do pledge to you a holy sanctuary      
Deep in the heart of this my land, made just      
By your indwelling presence, while ye sit           932   
Hard by your sacred shrines that gleam with oil      
Of sacrifice, and by this folk adored.      
    
CHORUS


    Woe on you, younger gods! the ancient right      
    Ye have o’erridden, rent it from my hands.           936   
    
    I am dishonoured of you, thrust to scorn!      
            But heavily my wrath      
    Shall on this land fling forth the drops that blast and burn.      
    Venom of vengeance, that shall work such scathe           940   
    As I have suffered; where that dew shall fall,      
            Shall leafless blight arise.      
    Wasting Earth’s offspring,—Justice, hear my call!—      
    And thorough all the land in deadly wise           944   
    Shall scatter venom, to exude again      
            In pestilence of men.      
    What cry avails me now, what deed of blood,      
    Unto this land what dark despite?           948   
            Alack, alack, forlorn      
      Are we, a bitter injury have borne!      
      Alack, O sisters, O dishonoured brood      
              Of mother Night!           952   
    
ATHENA


Dishonoured are ye not; turn not, I pray,      
As goddesses your swelling wrath on men,      
Nor make the friendly earth despiteful to them.      
I too have Zeus for champion—’tis enough—           956   
I only of all goddesses do know      
To ope the chamber where his thunderbolts      
Lie stored and sealed; but here is no such need.      
Nay, be appeased, nor cast upon the ground           960   
The malice of thy tongue, to blast the world;      
Calm thou thy bitter wrath’s black inward surge,      
For high shall be thine honour, set beside me      
For ever in this land, whose fertile lap           964   
Shall pour its teeming firstfruits unto you,      
Gifts for fair childbirth and for wedlock’s crown:      
Thus honoured, praise my spoken pledge for aye.      
    
CHORUS


I, I dishonoured in this earth to dwell,—           968   
Ancient of days and wisdom! I breathe forth      
Poison and breath of frenzied ire. O Earth,      
          Woe, woe for thee, for me!      
From side to side what pains be these that thrill?           972   
Hearken, O mother Night, my wrath, mine agony!      
Whom from mine ancient rights the gods have thrust,      
          And brought me to the dust—      
Woe, woe is me!—with craft invincible.           976   
    
ATHENA


Older art thou than I, and I will bear      
With this thy fury. Know, although thou be      
More wise in ancient wisdom, yet have I      
From Zeus no scanted measure of the same,           980   
Wherefore take heed unto this prophecy—      
If to another land of alien men      
Ye go, too late shall ye feel longing deep      
For mine. The rolling tides of time bring round           984   
A day of brighter glory for this town;      
And thou, enshrined in honour by the halls      
Where dwelt Erechtheus, shalt a worship win      
From men and from the train of womankind,           988   
Greater than any tribe elsewhere shall pay.      
Cast thou not therefore on this soil of mine      
Whetstones that sharpen souls to bloodshedding,      
The burning goads of youthful hearts, made hot           992   
With frenzy of the spirit, not of wine.      
Nor pluck as ’twere the heart from cocks that strive,      
To set it in the breasts of citizens      
Of mine, a war-god’s spirit, keen for fight,           996   
Made stern against their country and their kin.      
The man who grievously doth lust for fame,      
War, full, immitigable, let him wage      
Against the stranger; but of kindred birds           1000   
I hold the challenge hateful. Such the boon      
I proffer thee—within this land of lands,      
Most loved of gods, with me to show and share      
Fair mercy, gratitude and grace as fair.           1004   
    
CHORUS


I, I dishonoured in this earth to dwell,—      
Ancient of days and wisdom! I breathe forth      
Poison and breath of frenzied ire. O Earth,      
          Woe, woe for thee, for me!           1008   
From side to side what pains be these that thrill?      
Hearken, O mother Night, my wrath, mine agony!      
Whom from mine ancient rights the gods have thrust,      
          And brought me to the dust—           1012   
Woe, woe is me!—with craft invincible.      
    
ATHENA


I will not weary of soft words to thee,      
That never mayst thou say, Behold me spurned,      
An elder by a younger deity,           1016   
And from this land rejected and forlorn,      
Unhonoured by the men who dwell therein.      
But, if Persuasion’s grace be sacred to thee,      
Soft in the soothing accents of my tongue,           1020   
Tarry, I pray thee; yet, if go thou wilt,      
Not rightfully wilt thou on this my town      
Sway down the scale that beareth wrath and teen      
Or wasting plague upon this folk. ’Tis thine,           1024   
If so thou wilt, inheritress to be      
Of this my land, its utmost grace to win.      
    
CHORUS


O queen, what refuge dost thou promise me?      
    
ATHENA


Refuge untouched by bale: take thou my boon.           1028   
    
CHORUS


What, if I take it, shall mine honour be?      
    
ATHENA


No house shall prosper without grace of thine.      
    
CHORUS


Canst thou achieve and grant such power to me?      
    
ATHENA


Yea, for my hand shall bless thy worshippers.           1032   
    
CHORUS


And wilt thou pledge me this for time eterne?      
    
ATHENA


Yea: none can bid me pledge beyond my power.      
    
CHORUS


Lo, I desist from wrath, appeased by thee.      
    
ATHENA


Then in the land’s heart shalt thou win thee friends.           1036   
    
CHORUS


What chant dost bid me raise, to greet the land?      
    
ATHENA


Such as aspires towards a victory      
Unrued by any: chants from breast of earth,      
From wave, from sky; and let the wild winds’ breath           1040   
Pass with soft sunlight o’er the lap of land,—      
Strong wax the fruits of earth, fair teem the kine,      
Unfailing, for my town’s prosperity,      
And constant be the growth of mortal seed.           1044   
But more and more root out the impious,      
For as a gardener fosters what he sows,      
So foster I this race, whom righteousness      
Doth fend from sorrow. Such the proffered boon.           1048   
But I, if wars must be, and their loud clash      
And carnage, for my town, will ne’er endure      
That aught but victory shall crown her fame.      
    
CHORUS


    Lo, I accept it; at her very side           1052   
        Doth Pallas bid me dwell:      
    I will not wrong the city of her pride,      
  Which even Almighty Zeus and Ares hold      
        Heaven’s earthly citadel,           1056   
  Loved home of Grecian gods, the young, the old,      
        The sanctuary divine,      
        The shield of every shrine!      
  For Athens I say forth a gracious prophecy,—           1060   
    The glory of the sunlight and the skies      
        Shall bid from earth arise      
Warm wavelets of new life and glad prosperity.      
    
ATHENA


    Behold, with gracious heart well pleased           1064   
        I for my citizens do grant      
        Fulfilment of this covenant:      
    And here, their wrath at length appeased,      
        These mighty deities shall stay,           1068   
      For theirs it is by right to sway      
The lot that rules our mortal day,      
        And he who hath not inly felt      
      Their stern decree, ere long on him,           1072   
      Not knowing why and whence, the grim      
        Life-crushing blow is dealt.      
        The father’s sin upon the child      
      Descends, and sin is silent death,           1076   
      And leads him on the downward path,      
          By stealth beguiled,      
        Unto the Furies: though his state      
      On earth were high, and loud his boast,           1080   
        Victim of silent ire and hate      
          He dwells among the Lost.      
    
CHORUS


To my blessing now give ear.—      
Scorching blight nor singèd air           1084   
Never blast thine olives fair!      
Drouth, that wasteth bud and plant,      
Keep to thine own place. Avaunt,      
Famine fell, and come not hither           1088   
Stealthily to waste and wither!      
Let the land, in season due,      
Twice her waxing fruits renew;      
Teem the kine in double measure;           1092   
Rich in new god-given treasure;      
Here let men the powers adore      
For sudden gifts unhoped before!      
    
ATHENA


  O hearken, warders of the wall           1096   
  That guards mine Athens, what a dower      
  Is unto her ordained and given!      
For mighty is the Furies’ power,      
  And deep-revered in courts of heaven           1000   
And realms of hell; and clear to all      
  They weave thy doom, mortality!      
And some in joy and peace shall sing;      
But unto other some they bring           1104   
  Sad life and tear-dimmed eye.      
    
CHORUS


And far away I ban thee and remove,      
  Untimely death of youths too soon brought low!      
And to each maid, O gods, when time is come for love,           1108   
  Grant ye a warrior’s heart, a wedded life to know.      
Ye too, O Fates, children of mother Night,      
  Whose children too are we, O goddesses      
Of just award, of all by sacred right           1112   
  Queens, who in time and in eternity      
Do rule, a present power for righteousness,      
  Honoured beyond all gods, hear ye and grant my cry!      
    
ATHENA


And I too, I with joy am fain,           1116   
Hearing your voice this gift ordain      
Unto my hand. High thanks be thine,      
Persuasion, who with eyes divine      
Into my tongue didst look thy strength,           1120   
To bend and to appease at length      
  Those who would not be comforted.      
Zeus, king of parley, doth prevail,      
And ye and I will strive nor fail,           1124   
  That good may stand in evil’s stead,      
And lasting bliss for bale.      
    
CHORUS


And nevermore these walls within      
Shall echo fierce sedition’s din,           1128   
  Unslaked with blood and crime;      
The thirsty dust shall nevermore      
Suck up the darkly streaming gore      
Of civic boils, shed out in wrath           1132   
And vengeance, crying death for death!      
But man with man and state with state      
Shall vow The pledge of common hate      
And common friendship, that for man           1136   
Hath oft made blessing out of ban,      
Be ours unto all time.      
    
ATHENA


Skill they, or not, the path to find      
Of favouring speech and presage kind?           1140   
Yea, even from these, who, grim and stern,      
  Glared anger upon you of old,      
O citizens, ye now shall earn      
  A recompense right manifold.           1144   
Deck them aright, extol them high,      
Be loyal to their loyalty,      
  And ye shall make your town and land      
  Sure, propped on Justice’ saving hand,           1148   
    And Fame’s eternity.      
    
CHORUS


    Hail ye, all hail! and yet again, all hail,      
      O Athens, happy in a weal secured!      
  O ye who sit by Zeus’ right hand, nor fail           1152   
    Of wisdom set among you and assured,      
  Loved of the well-loved Goddess-Maid! the King      
Of gods doth reverence you, beneath her guarding wing.      
    
ATHENA


All hail unto each honoured guest!           1156   
Whom to the chambers of your rest      
’Tis mine to lead, and to provide      
The hallowed torch, the guard and guide.      
Pass down, the while these altars glow           1160   
With sacred fire, to earth below      
    And your appointed shrine.      
There dwelling, from the land restrain      
The force of fate, the breath of bane,           1164   
But waft on us the gift and gain      
    Of Victory divine!      
And ye, the men of Cranaos’ seed,      
I bid you now with reverence lead           1168   
These alien powers that thus are made      
Athenian evermore. To you      
Fair be their will henceforth, to do      
    Whate’er may bless and aid!           1172   
    
CHORUS


Hail to you all! hail yet again,      
All who love Athens, gods and men,      
    Adoring her as Pallas’ home!      
And while ye reverence what ye grant—           1176   
My sacred shrine and hidden haunt—      
  Blameless and blissful be your doom!      
    
ATHENA


Once more I praise the promise of your vows,      
And now I bid the golden torches’ glow           1180   
Pass down before you to the hidden depth      
Of earth, by mine own sacred servants borne,      
My loyal guards of statue and of shrine.      
Come forth, O flower of Theseus’ Attic land,           1184   
O glorious band of children and of wives,      
And ye, O train of matrons crowned with eld!      
Deck you with festal robes of scarlet dye      
In honour of this day: O gleaming torch,           1188   
Lead onward, that these gracious powers of earth      
Henceforth be seen to bless the life of men.  [Athena leads the procession downwards into the Cave of the Furies, under Areopagus: as they go, the escort of women and children chant aloud.      
    
CHANT


With loyalty we lead you; proudly go,      
Night’s childless children, to your home below!           1192   
  (O citizens, awhile from words forbear!)      
  To darkness’ deep primeval lair,      
  Far in Earth’s bosom, downward fare,      
  Adored with prayer and sacrifice           1196   
    (O citizens, forbear your cries!)      
  Pass hitherward, ye powers of Dread,      
  With all your former wrath allayed,      
    Into the heart of this loved land;           1200   
  With joy unto your temple wend,      
  The while upon your steps attend      
    The flames that fed upon the brand—      
(Now, now ring out your chant, your joy’s acclaim!)           1204   
    Behind them, as they downward fare,      
    Let holy hands libations bear,      
        And torches’ sacred flame.      
    All-seeing Zeus and Fate come down           1208   
    To battle fair for Pallas’ town!      
Ring out your chant, ring out your joy’s acclaim!  [Exeunt omnes.      
 

Prometheus Bound

Enter HEPHÆSTOS, STRENGTH, and FORCE, leading PROMETHEUS in chains 1


Strength  LO! to a plain, earth’s boundary remote,      
We now are come,—the track as Skythian known,      
A desert inaccessible: and now,      
Hephæstos, it is thine to do the hests           4   
The Father gave thee, to these lofty crags      
To bind this crafty trickster fast in chains      
Of adamantine bonds that none can break;      
For he, thy choice flower stealing, the bright glory           8   
Of fire that all arts spring from, hath bestowed it      
On mortal men. And so for fault like this      
He now must pay the Gods due penalty,      
That he may learn to bear the sovereign rule           12   
Of Zeus, and cease from his philanthropy.      
    
Heph.  O Strength, and thou, O Force, the hest of Zeus,      
As far as touches you, attains its end,      
And nothing hinders. Yet my courage fails           16   
To bind a God of mine own kin by force      
To this bare rock where tempests wildly sweep;      
And yet I needs must muster courage for it:      
’Tis no slight thing the Father’s words to scorn.           20   
O thou of Themis [to PROMETHEUS] wise in counsel son,      
Full deep of purpose, lo! against my will, 2      
I fetter thee against thy will with bonds      
Of bronze that none can loose, the this lone height,           24   
Where thou shalt know nor voice nor face of man,      
But scorching in the hot blaze of the sun,      
Shalt lose thy skin’s fair beauty. Thou shalt long      
For starry-mantled night to hide day’s sheen,           28   
For sun to melt the rime of early dawn;      
And evermore the weight of present ill      
Shall wear thee down. Unborn as yet is he      
Who shall release thee: this the fate thou gain’st           32   
As due reward for thy philanthropy.      
For thou, a God not fearing wrath of Gods,      
In thy transgression gav’st their power to men;      
And therefore on this rock of little ease           36   
Thou still shalt keep thy watch, nor lying down,      
Nor knowing sleep, nor ever bending knee;      
And many groans and wailings profitless      
Thy lips shall utter; for the mind of Zeus           40   
Remains inexorable. Who holds a power      
But newly gained 3 is ever stern of mood.      
    
Strength.  Let be! Why linger in this idle pity?      
Why dost not hate a God to Gods a foe,           44   
Who gave thy choicest prize to mortal men?      
    
Heph.  Strange is the power of kin and intercourse. 4      
    
Strength.  I own it; yet to slight the Father’s words,      
How may that be? Is not that fear the worse?           48   
    
Heph.  Still art thou ruthless, full of savagery.      
    
Strength.  There is no help in weeping over him:      
Spend not thy toil on things that profit not.      
    
Heph.  O handicraft to me intolerable!           52   
    
Strength.  Why loath’st thou it? Of these thy present griefs      
That craft of thine is not one whit the cause.      
    
Heph.  And yet I would some other had that skill.      
    
Strength.  All things bring toil except for Gods to reign; 5           56   
For none but Zeus can boast of freedom true.      
    
Heph.  Too well I see the proof, and gainsay not.      
    
Strength.  Wilt thou not speed to fix the chains on him,      
Lest He, the Father, see thee loitering here?           60   
    
Heph.  Well, here the handcuffs thou mayst see prepared.      
    
Strength.  In thine hands take him. Then with all thy might      
Strike with thine hammer; nail him to the rocks.      
    
Heph.  The work goes on, I ween, and not in vain.           64   
    
Strength.  Strike harder, rivet, give no whit of ease:      
A wondrous knack has he to find resource,      
Even where all might seem to baffle him.      
    
Heph.  Lo! this his arm is fixed inextricably.           68   
    
Strength.  Now rivet thou this other fast, that he      
May learn, though sharp, that he than Zeus is duller.      
    
Heph.  No one but he could justly blame my work.      
    
Strength.  Now drive the stern jaw of the adamant wedge           72   
Right through his chest with all the strength thou hast.      
    
Heph.  Ah me! Prometheus, for thy woes I groan.      
    
Strength.  Again, thou’rt loth, and for the foes of Zeus      
Thou groanest: take good heed to it lest thou           76   
Ere long with cause thyself commiserate.      
    
Heph.  Thou seest a sight unsightly to our eyes.      
    
Strength.  I see this man obtaining his deserts:      
Nay, cast thy breast-chains round about his ribs.           80   
    
Heph.  I must needs do it. Spare thine o’ermuch bidding;      
Go thou below and rivet both his legs. 6      
    
Strength.  Nay, I will bid thee, urge thee to thy work.      
    
Heph.  There, it is done, and that with no long toil.           84   
    
Strength.  Now with thy full power fix the galling fetters:      
Thou hast a stern o’erlooker of thy work.      
    
Heph.  Thy tongue but utters words that match thy form. 7      
    
Strength.  Choose thou the melting mood; but chide not me           88   
For my self-will and wrath and ruthlessness.      
    
Heph.  Now let us go, his limbs are bound in chains.      
    
Strength.  Here then wax proud, and stealing what      
belongs           92   
To the Gods, to mortals give it. What can they      
Avail to rescue thee from these thy woes?      
Falsely the Gods have given thee thy name,      
Prometheus, Forethought; forethought thou dost need           96   
To free thyself from this rare handiwork.  [Exeunt HEPHÆSTOS, STRENGTH, and FORCE, leaving PROMETHEUS on the rock.      
    
Prom. 8  Thou firmament of God, and swift-winged winds,      
Ye springs of rivers, and of ocean waves      
That smile innumerous! Mother of us all,           100   
O Earth, and Sun’s all-seeing eye, behold,      
I pray, what I, a God, from Gods endure.      
      Behold in what foul case      
      I for ten thousand years           104   
      Shall struggle in my woe,      
      In these unseemly chains.      
Such doom the new-made Monarch of the Blest      
      Hath now devised for me.           108   
Woe, woe! The present and the oncoming pang      
      I wail, as I search out      
The place and hour when end of all these ills      
      Shall dawn on me at last.           112   
What say I? All too clearly I foresee      
The things that come, and nought of pain shall be      
By me unlooked-for; but I needs must bear      
My destiny as best I may, knowing well           116   
The might resistless of Necessity.      
And neither may I speak of this my fate,      
Nor hold my peace. For I, poor I, through giving      
Great gifts to mortal men, am prisoner made           120   
In these fast fetters; yea, in fennel stalk 9      
I snatched the hidden spring of stolen fire,      
Which is to men a teacher of all arts,      
Their chief resource. And now this penalty           124   
Of that offence I pay, fast riveted      
In chains beneath the open firmament.      
      Ha! ha! What now?      
What sound, what odour floats invisibly? 10           128   
Is it of God or man, or blending both?      
And has one come to this remotest rock      
To look upon my woes? Or what wills he?      
Behold me bound, a God to evil doomed,           132   
      The foe of Zeus, and held      
      In hatred by all Gods      
      Who tread the courts of Zeus:      
      And this for my great love,           136   
      Too great, for mortal men.      
      Ah me! what rustling sounds      
      Hear I of birds not far?      
      With the light whirr of wings           140   
      The air re-echoeth:      
All that draws nigh to me is cause of fear. 11      
    
Enter Chorus of Ocean Nymphs, with wings, floating in the air 12


Chor.  Nay, fear thou nought: in love      
      All our array of wings           144   
      In eager race hath come      
To this high peak, full hardly gaining o’er      
      Our Father’s mind and will;      
And the swift-rushing breezes bore me on:           148   
For lo! the echoing sound of blows on iron      
Pierced to our cave’s recess, and put to flight      
      My shamefast modesty,      
And I in unshod haste, on winged car,           152   
      To thee rushed hitherward.      
    
Prom.  Ah me! ah me!      
Offspring of Tethys blest with many a child,      
Daughters of Old Okeanos that rolls           156   
Round all the earth with never-sleeping stream,      
      Behold ye me, and see      
      With what chains fettered fast,      
I on the topmost crags of this ravine           160   
Shall keep my sentry-post unenviable.      
    
Chor.  I see it, O Prometheus, and a mist      
Of fear and full of tears comes o’er mine eyes,      
      Thy frame beholding thus,           164   
      Writhing on these high rocks      
      In adamantine ills.      
New pilots now o’er high Olympos rule,      
      And with new-fashioned laws           168   
      Zeus reigns, down-trampling Right,      
And all the ancient powers He sweeps away.      
    
Prom.  Ah! would that ’neath the Earth, ’neath Hades too,      
Home of the dead, far down to Tartaros           172   
Unfathomable He in fetters fast      
      In wrath had hurled me down:      
      So neither had a God      
Nor any other mocked at these my woes;           176   
But now, the wretched plaything of the winds,      
I suffer ills at which my foes rejoice.      
    
Chor.  Nay, which of all the Gods      
Is so hard-hearted as to joy in this?           180   
Who, Zeus excepted, doth not pity thee      
      In these thine ills? But He,      
      Ruthless, with soul unbent,      
Subdues the heavenly host, nor will He cease 13           184   
Until His heart be satiate with power,      
Or some one seize with subtle stratagem      
The sovran might that so resistless seemed.      
    
Prom.  Nay, of a truth, though put to evil shame,           188   
      In massive fetters bound,      
      The Ruler of the Gods      
Shall yet have need of me, yes, e’en of me,      
      To tell the counsel new           192   
      That seeks to strip from Him      
His sceptre and His might of sovereignty.      
      In vain will He with words      
      Or suasion’s honeyed charms           196   
      Soothe me, nor will I tell      
      Through fear of His stern threats,      
      Ere He shall set me free      
From these my bonds, and make,           200   
      Of His own choice, amends      
      For all these outrages.      
    
Chor.  Full rash art thou, and yield’st      
In not a jot to bitterest form of woe;           204   
Thou art o’er-free and reckless in thy speech:      
      But piercing fear hath stirred      
      My inmost soul to strife;      
For I fear greatly touching thy distress,           208   
As to what haven of these woes of thine      
Thou now must steer: the son of Cronos hath      
A stubborn mood and heart inexorable.      
    
Prom.  I know that Zeus is hard,           212   
And keeps the Right supremely to Himself;      
      But then, I trow, He’ll be      
      Full pliant in His will,      
      When He is thus crushed down.           216   
      Then, calming down His mood      
      Of hard and bitter wrath,      
      He’ll hasten unto me,      
      As I to Him shall haste,           220   
      For friendship and for peace.      
    
Chor.  Hide it not from us, tell us all the tale:      
For what offence Zeus, having seized thee thus,      
So wantonly and bitterly insults thee:           224   
If the tale hurt thee not, inform thou us.      
    
Prom.  Painful are these things to me e’en to speak:      
Painful is silence; everywhere is woe.      
For when the high Gods fell on mood of wrath           228   
And hot debate of mutual strife was stirred,      
Some wishing to hurl Cronos from his throne,      
That Zeus, forsooth, might reign; while others strove,      
Eager that Zeus might never rule the Gods:           232   
Then I, full strongly seeking to persuade      
The Titans, yea, the sons of Heaven and Earth,      
Failed of my purpose. Scorning subtle arts,      
With counsels violent, they thought that they           236   
By force would gain full easy mastery.      
But then not once or twice my mother Themis      
And earth, one form though bearing many names, 14      
Had prophesied the future, how ’twould run,           240   
That not by strength nor yet by violence,      
But guile, should those who prospered gain the day.      
And when in my words I this counsel gave,      
They deigned not e’en to glance at it at all.           244   
And then of all that offered, it seemed best      
To join my mother, and of mine own will,      
Not against His will, take my side with Zeus,      
And by my counsels, mine, the dark deep pit           248   
Of Tartaros the ancient Cronos holds,      
Himself and his allies. Thus profiting      
By me, the mighty ruler of the Gods      
Repays me with these evil penalties:           252   
For somehow this disease in sovereignty      
Inheres, of never trusting to one’s friends. 15      
And since ye ask me under what pretence      
He thus maltreats me, I will show it you:           256   
For soon as He upon His father’s throne      
Had sat secure, forthwith to divers Gods      
He divers gifts distributed, and His realm      
Began to order. But of mortal men           260   
He took no heed, but purposed utterly      
To crush their race and plant another new;      
And, I excepted, none dared cross His will;      
But I did dare, and mortal men I freed           264   
From passing on to Hades thunder-stricken;      
And therefore am I bound beneath these woes,      
Dreadful to suffer, pitiable to see:      
And I, who in my pity thought of men           268   
More than myself, have not been worthy deemed      
To gain like favour, but all ruthlessly      
I thus am chained, foul shame this sight to Zeus.      
    
Chor.  Iron-hearted must he be and made of rock           272   
Who is not moved, Prometheus, by thy woes:      
Fain could I wish I ne’er had seen such things,      
And, seeing them, am wounded to the heart.      
    
Prom.  Yea, I am piteous for my friends to see.           276   
    
Chor.  Didst thou not go to farther lengths than this?      
    
Prom.  I made men cease from contemplating death. 16      
    
Chor.  What medicine didst thou find for that disease?      
    
Prom.  Blind hopes I gave to live and dwell with them.           280   
    
Chor.  Great service that thou didst for mortal men!      
    
Prom.  And more than that, I gave them fire, yes, I.      
    
Chor.  Do short-lived men the flaming fire possess?      
    
Prom.  Yea, and full many an art they’ll learn from it.           284   
    
Chor.  And is it then on charges such as these      
That Zeus maltreats thee, and no respite gives      
Of many woes? And has thy pain no end?      
    
Prom.  End there is none, except as pleases Him.           288   
    
Chor.  How shall it please? What hope hast thou?      
              Seest not      
That thou hast sinned? Yet to say how thou sinned’st      
Gives me no pleasure, and is pain to thee.           292   
Well! let us leave these things, and, if we may,      
Seek out some means to ’scape from this thy woe.      
    
Prom.  ’Tis a light thing for one who has his foot      
Beyond the reach of evil to exhort           296   
And counsel him who suffers. This to me      
Was all well known. Yea, willing, willingly      
I sinned, nor will deny it. Helping men,      
I for myself found trouble: yet I thought not           300   
That I with such dread penalties as these      
Should wither here on these high-towering crags,      
Lighting on this lone hill and neighbourless.      
Wherefore wail not for these my present woes,           304   
But, drawing nigh, my coming fortunes hear,      
That ye may learn the whole tale to the end.      
Nay, hearken, hearken; show your sympathy      
With him who suffers now. ’Tis thus that woe,           308   
Wandering, now falls on this one, now on that.      
    
Chor.  Not to unwilling hearers hast thou uttered,      
        Prometheus, thy request,      
And now with nimble foot abounding           312   
        My swiftly rushing car,      
And the pure æther, path of birds of heaven,      
I will draw near this rough and rocky land,      
        For much do I desire           316   
To hear this tale, full measure of thy woes.      
    
Enter OKEANOS, on a car drawn by a winged gryphon

Okean.  Lo, I come to thee, Prometheus,
        Reaching goal of distant journey, 17      
        Guiding this my winged courser           320   
        By my will, without a bridle;      
        And thy sorrows move my pity.      
        Force, in part, I deem, of kindred      
        Leads me on, nor know I any,           324   
        Whom, apart from kin, I honour      
        More than thee, in fuller measure.      
        This thou shalt own true and earnest:      
        I deal not in glozing speeches.           328   
        Come then, tell me how to help thee;      
        Ne’er shalt thou say that one more friendly      
        Is found than unto thee is Okean.      
    
Prom.  Let be. What boots it? Thou then too art come           332   
To gaze upon my sufferings. How didst dare      
Leaving the stream that bears thy name, and caves      
Hewn in the living rock, this land to visit,      
Mother of iron? What then, art thou come           336   
To gaze upon my fall and offer pity?      
Behold this sight: see here the friend of Zeus,      
Who helped to seat Him in His sovereignty,      
With what foul outrage I am crushed by Him!           340   
    
Okean.  I see, Prometheus, and I wish to give thee      
My best advice, all subtle though thou be.      
Know thou thyself, 18 and fit thy soul to moods      
To thee full new. New king the Gods have now;           344   
But if thou utter words thus rough and sharp,      
Perchance, though sitting far away on high,      
Zeus yet may hear thee, and His present wrath      
Seem to thee but as child’s play of distress.           348   
Nay, thou poor sufferer, quit the rage thou hast,      
And seek a remedy for these thine ills.      
A tale thrice-told, perchance I seem to speak:      
Lo! this, Prometheus, is the punishment           352   
Of thine o’erlofty speech, nor art thou yet      
Humbled, nor yieldest to thy miseries,      
And fain wouldst add fresh evils unto these.      
But thou, if thou wilt take me as thy teacher,           356   
Wilt not kick out against the pricks; 19 seeing well      
A monarch reigns who gives account to none.      
And now I go, and will an effort make,      
If I, perchance, may free thee from thy woes;           360   
Be still then, hush thy petulance of speech,      
Or knowest thou not, o’er-clever as thou art,      
That idle tongues must still their forfeit pay?      
    
Prom.  I envy thee, seeing thou art free from blame           364   
Though thou shared’st all, and in my cause wast bold; 20      
Nay, let me be, nor trouble thou thyself;      
Thou wilt not, canst not soothe Him; very hard      
Is He of soothing. Look to it thyself,           368   
Lest thou some mischief meet with in the way.      
    
Okean.  It is thy wont thy neighbours’ minds to school      
Far better than thine own. From deeds, not words,      
I draw my proof. But do not draw me back           372   
When I am hasting on, for lo! I deem,      
I deem that Zeus will grant this boon to me,      
That I should free thee from these woes of thine.      
    
Prom.  I thank thee much, yea, ne’er will cease to thank;           376   
For thou no whit of zeal dost lack; yet take,      
I pray, no trouble for me; all in vain      
Thy trouble, nothing helping, e’en if thou      
Shouldst care to take the trouble. Nay, be still;           380   
Keep out of harm’s way; sufferer though I be,      
I would not therefore wish to give my woes      
A wider range o’er others. No, not so:      
For lo! my mind is wearied with the grief           384   
Of that my kinsman Atlas, 21 who doth stand      
In the far West, supporting on his shoulders      
The pillars of the earth and heaven, a burden      
His arms can ill but hold; I pity too           388   
The giant dweller of Kilikian caves,      
Dread portent, with his hundred hands, subdued      
By force, the mighty Typhon, 22 who arose      
’Gainst all the Gods, with sharp and dreadful jaws           392   
Hissing out slaughter, and from out his eyes      
There flashed the terrible brightness as of one      
Who would lay low the sovereignty of Zeus.      
But the unsleeping dart of Zeus came on him,           396   
Down-swooping thunderbolt that breathes out flame,      
Which from his lofty boastings startled him,      
For he i’ the heart was struck, to ashes burnt,      
    
Note 1. The scene seems at first an exception to the early conventional rule, which forbade the introduction of a third actor on the Greek stage. But it has been noticed that (1) Force does not speak, and (2) Prometheus does not speak till Strength and Force have retired, and that it is therefore probable that the whole work of nailing is done on a lay figure or effigy of some kind, and that one of the two who had before taken part in the dialogue then speaks behind it in the character of Prometheus. So the same actor must have appeared in succession as Okeanos, Io, and Hermes. [back]   
Note 2. Prometheus (Forethought) is the son of Themis (Right), the second occupant of the Pythian Oracle (Eumen. v. 2). His sympathy with man leads him to impart the gift which raised them out of savage animal life, and for this Zeus, who appears throughout the play as a hard taskmaster, sentences him to fetters. Hephæstos, from whom this fire had been stolen, has a touch of pity for him. Strength, who comes as the servant, not of Hephæstos, but of Zeus himself, acts, as such, with merciless cruelty. [back]   
Note 3. The generalised statement refers to Zeus, as having but recently expelled Cronos from his throne in heaven. [back]   
Note 4. Hephæstos, as the great fire-worker, had taught Prometheus to use the fire which he afterwards bestowed on men. [back]   
Note 5. Perhaps, “All might is ours except o’er Gods to rule.” [back]   
Note 6. The words indicate that the effigy of Prometheus, now nailed to the rock, was, as being that of a Titan, of colossal size. [back]   
Note 7. The touch is characteristic as showing that here, as in the Eumenides, Æschylos relied on the horribleness of the masks, as part of the machinery of his plays.] [back]   
Note 8. The silence of Prometheus up to this point was partly, as has been said, consequent on the conventional laws of the Greek drama, but it is also a touch of supreme insight into the heroic temper. In the presence of his tortures, the Titan will not utter even a groan. When they are gone, he appeals to the sympathy of Nature. [back]   
Note 9. The legend is from Hesiod (Theogon. v. 567). The fennel, or narthex, seems to have been a large umbelliferous plant, with a large stem filled with a sort of pith, which was used when dry as tinder. Stalks were carried as wands (the thyrsi) by the men and women who joined in Bacchanalian processions. In modern botany, the name is given to the plant which produces Asafœtida, and the stem of which, from its resinous character, would burn freely, and so connect itself with the Promethean myth. On the other hand, the Narthex Asafœtida is found at present only in Persia, Afghanistan, and the Punjaub. [back]   
Note 10. The ocean nymphs, like other divine ones, would be anointed with ambrosial unguents, and the odour would be wafted before them by the rustling of their wings. This, too, we may think of as part of the “stage effects” of the play. [back]   
Note 11. The words are not those of a vague terror only. The sufferer knows that his tormentor is to come to him before long on wings, and therefore the sound as of the flight of birds is full of terrors. [back]   
Note 12. By the same stage mechanism the Chorus remains in the air till verse 30, page 165, when, at the request of Prometheus, they alight. [back]   
Note 13. Here, as throughout the play, the poet puts into the mouth of his dramatis personæ words which must have seemed to the devouter Athenians sacrilegious enough to call for an indictment before the Areiopagos. But the final play of the Trilogy came, we may believe, as the Eumenides did in its turn, as a reconciliation of the conflicting thoughts that rise in men’s minds out of the seeming anomalies of the world. [back]   
Note 14. The words leave it uncertain whether Themis is identified with Earth, or, as in the Eumenides (v. 2), distinguished from her. The Titans as a class, then, children of Okeanos and Chthôn (another name for Land or Earth), are the kindred rather than the brothers of Prometheus. [back]   
Note 15. The generalising words here, as in v. 35, appeal to the Athenian hatred of all that was represented by the words tyrant and tyranny. [back]   
Note 16. The state described is that of men who “through fear of death are all their life time subject to bondage.” That state, the parent of all superstition, fostered the slavish awe in which Zeus delighted. Prometheus, representing the active intellect of man, bestows new powers, new interests, new hopes, which at last divert them from that fear. [back]   
Note 17. The home of Okeanos was in the far West, at the boundary of the great stream surrounding the whole world, from which he took his name. [back]   
Note 18. One of the sayings of the Seven Sages, already recognised and quoted as a familiar proverb. [back]   
Note 19. See note on Agam. l. 1602 in E. H. Plumptre’s translation. [back]   
Note 20. [In the mythos, Okeanos had given his daughter Hesione in marriage to Prometheus after the theft of fire, and thus had identified himself with his transgression.] [back]   
Note 21. In the Theogony of Hesiod (v. 509), Prometheus and Atlas appear as the sons of two sisters. As other Titans were thought of as buried under volcanoes, so this one was identified with the mountain which had been seen by travellers to Western Africa, or in the seas beyond it, rising like a column to support the vault of heaven. In Herodotos (iv. 174) and all later writers, the name is given to the chain of mountains in Lybia, as being the “pillar of the firmament”; but Humboldt and others identify it with the lonely peak of Teneriffe, as seen by Phœnikian or Hellenic voyagers. Teneriffe, too, like most of the other Titan mountains, was at one time volcanic. Homer (Odyss. i 53) represents him as holding the pillars which separate heaven from earth; Hesiod (Theogon. v. 517) as himself standing near the Hesperides (this, too, points to Teneriffe), sustaining the heavens with his head and shoulders. [back]   
Note 22. The volcanic character of the whole of Asia Minor, and the liability to earthquakes which has marked nearly every period of its history, led men to connect it also with the traditions of the Titans, some accordingly placing the home of Typhon in Phrygia, some near Sardis, some, as here, in Kilikia. Hesiod (Theogon. v. 820) describes Typhon (or Typhoeus) as a serpent-monster hissing out fire; Pindar (Pyth. i. 30, viii. 21) as lying with his head and breast crushed beneath the weight of Ætna, and his feet extending to Cumæ.

His strength all thunder-shattered; and he lies           400   
A helpless, powerless carcase, near the strait      
Of the great sea, fast pressed beneath the roots      
Of ancient Ætna, where on highest peak      
Hephæstos sits and smites his iron red-hot,           404   
From whence hereafter streams of fire shall burst, 1      
Devouring with fierce jaws the golden plains      
Of fruitful, fair Sikelia. Such the wrath      
That Typhon shall belch forth with bursts of storm,           408   
Hot, breathing fire, and unapproachable,      
Though burnt and charred by thunderbolts of Zeus.      
Not inexperienced art thou, nor dost need      
My teaching: save thyself, as thou know’st how;           412   
And I will drink my fortune to the dregs,      
Till from His wrath the mind of Zeus shall rest. 2      
    
Okean.  Know’st thou not this, Prometheus, even this:      
Of wrath’s disease wise words the healers are?           416   
    
Prom.  Yea, could one soothe the troubled heart in time,      
Nor seek by force to tame the soul’s proud flesh.      
    
Okean.  But, in due forethought with bold daring blent,      
What mischief seest thou lurking? Tell me this.           420   
    
Prom.  Toil bootless, and simplicity full fond.      
    
Okean.  Let me, I pray, that sickness suffer, since      
’Tis best being wise to have not wisdom’s show.      
    
Prom.  Nay, but this error shall be deemed as mine.           424   
    
Okean.  Thy word then clearly sends me home at once.      
    
Prom.  Yea, lest thy pity for me make a foe….      
    
Okean.  What! of that new king on His mighty throne?      
    
Prom.  Look to it, lest His heart be vexed with thee.           428   
    
Okean.  Thy fate, Prometheus, teaches me that lesson.      
    
Prom.  Away, withdraw! keep thou the mind thou hast.      
    
Okean.  Thou urgest me who am in act to haste;      
For this my bird four-footed flaps with wings           432   
The clear path of the æther; and full fain      
Would he bend knee in his own stall at home. 
[Exit.
    
STROPHE I


Chor.  I grieve, Prometheus, for thy dreary fate,      
      Shedding from tender eyes           436   
      The drew of plenteous tears;      
With streams, as when the watery south wind blows,      
      My cheek is wet;      
For lo! these things are all unenviable,           440   
And Zeus, by His own laws His sway maintaining,      
      Shows to the elder Gods      
      A mood of haughtiness.      
    
ANTISTROPHE I


And all the country echoeth with the moan,           444   
      And poureth many a tear      
      For that magnific power      
Of ancient days far-seen that thou didst share      
      With those of one blood sprung;           448   
And all the mortal men who hold the plain      
Of holy Asia as their land of sojourn,      
      They grieve in sympathy      
      For thy woes lamentable.           452   
    
STROPHE II


And they, the maiden band who find their home      
      On distant Colchian coasts,      
      Fearless of fight, 3      
Or Skythian horde is earth’s remotest clime,           456   
      By far Mæotic lake; 4      
    
ANTISTROPHE II


And warlike glory of Arabia’s tribes, 5      
      Who nigh to Caucasos      
      In rock-fort dwell,           460   
An army fearful, with sharp-pointed spear      
      Raging in war’s array.      
    
STROPHE III


One other Titan only have I seen,      
      One other of the Gods,           464   
Thus bound in woes of adamantine strength—      
      Atlas, who ever groans      
Beneath the burden of a crushing might,      
      The outspread vault of heaven.           468   
    
ANTISTROPHE III


And lo! the ocean billows murmur loud      
      In one accord with him; 6      
The sea-depths groan, and Hades’ swarthy pit           472   
      Re-echoeth the sound,      
And fountains of clear rivers, as they flow,      
      Bewail his bitter griefs.      
    
Prom.  Think not it is through pride or stiff self-will           476   
That I am silent. But my heart is worn,      
Self-contemplating, as I see myself      
Thus outraged. Yet what other hand than mine      
Gave these young Gods in fulness all their gifts?           480   
But these I speak not of; for I should tell      
To you that know them. But those woes of men, 7      
List ye to them,—how they, before as babes,      
By me were roused to reason, taught to think;           484   
And this I say, not finding fault with men,      
But showing my good-will in all I gave.      
For first, though seeing, all in vain they saw,      
And hearing, heard not rightly. But, like forms           488   
Of phantom-dreams, throughout their life’s whole length      
They muddled all at random; did not know      
Houses of brick that catch the sunlight’s warmth,      
Nor yet the work of carpentry. They dwelt           492   
In hollowed holes, like swarms of tiny ants,      
In sunless depths of caverns; and they had      
No certain signs of winter, nor of spring      
Flower-laden, nor of summer with her fruits;           496   
But without counsel fared their whole life long,      
Until I showed the risings of the stars,      
And settings hard to recognise. 8 And I      
Found Number for them, chief devise of all,           500   
Groupings of letters, Memory’s handmaid that,       
And mother of the Muses. 9 And I first      
Bound in the yoke wild steeds, submissive made      
Or to the collar or men’s limbs, that so           504   
They might in man’s place bear his greatest toils;      
And horses trained to love the rein I yoked      
To chariots, glory of wealth’s pride of state; 10      
Nor was it any one but I that found           508   
Sea-crossing, canvas-wingèd cars of ships:      
Such rare designs inventing (wretched me!)      
For mortal men, I yet have no device      
By which to free myself from this my woe. 11           512   
    
Chor.  Foul shame thou sufferest: of thy sense bereaved,      
Thou errest greatly: and, like leech unskilled,      
Thou losest heart when smitten with disease,      
And know’st not how to find the remedies           516   
Wherewith to heal thine own soul’s sicknesses.      
    
Prom.  Hearing what yet remains, thou’lt wonder more,      
What arts and what resources I devised:      
And this the chief: if any one fell ill,           520   
There was no help for him, nor healing food      
Nor unguent, nor yet potion; but for want      
Of drugs they wasted, till I showed to them      
The blendings of all mild medicaments, 12           524   
Wherewith they ward the attacks of sickness sore.      
I gave them many modes of prophecy; 13      
And I first taught them what dreams needs must prove      
True visions, and made known the ominous sounds           528   
Full hard to know; and tokens by the way,      
And flights of taloned birds I clearly marked,—      
Those on the right propitious to mankind,      
And those sinister,—and what form of life           532   
They each maintain, and what their enmities      
Each with the other, and their loves and friendships;      
And of the inward parts the plumpness smooth.      
And with what colour they the Gods would please,           536   
And the streaked comeliness of gall and liver:      
And with burnt limbs enwrapt in fat, and chine,      
I led men on to art full difficult:      
And I gave eyes to omens drawn from fire,           540   
Till then dim-visioned. So far, then, for this.      
And ’neath the earth the hidden boons for men,      
Bronze, iron, silver, gold, who else could say      
That he, ere I did, found them? None, I know,           544   
Unless he fain would babble idle words.      
In one short word, then, learn the truth condensed,—      
All arts of mortals from Prometheus spring.      
    
Chor.  Nay, be not thou to men so over-kind,           548   
While thou thyself art in sore evil case;      
For I am sanguine that thou too, released      
From bonds, shalt be as strong as Zeus Himself.      
    
Prom.  It is not thus that Fate’s decree is fixed;           552   
But I, long crushed with twice ten thousand woes      
And bitter pains, shall then escape my bonds;      
Art is far weaker than Necessity.      
    
Chor.  Who guides the helm, then, of Necessity?           556   
    
Prom.  Fates triple-formed, Erinyes unforgetting.      
    
Chor.  Is Zeus, then, weaker in His might than these?      
    
Prom.  Not even He can ’scape the thing decreed.      
    
Chor.  What is decreed for Zeus but still to reign?           560   
    
Prom.  Thou mayst no further learn, ask thou no more.      
    
Chor.  ’Tis doubtless some dread secret which thou hidest.      
    
Prom.  Of other theme make mention, for the time      
Is not yet come to utter this, but still           564   
It must be hidden to the uttermost;      
For by thus keeping it it is that I      
Escape my bondage foul, and these my pains.      
    
STROPHE I


Chor.  Ah! ne’er may Zeus the Lord,           568   
          Whose sovran sway rules all,      
          His strength in conflict set      
          Against my feeble will!      
          Nor may I fail to serve           572   
          The Gods with holy feast      
          Of whole burnt—offerings,      
          Where the stream ever flows      
          That bears my father’s name,           576   
          The great Okeanos!      
          Nor may I sin in speech!      
          May this grace more and more      
          Sink deep into my soul           580   
          And never fade away!      
    
ANTISTROPHE I


          Sweet is it in strong hope      
          To spend long years of life,      
          With bright and cheering joy           584   
          Our heart’s thoughts nourishing      
          I shudder, seeing thee      
          Thus vexed and harassed sore      
          By twice ten thousand woes;           588   
          For thou in pride of heart,      
          Having no fear of Zeus,      
          In thine own obstinacy,      
          Dost show for mortal men,           592   
          Prometheus, love o’ermuch.      
    
STROPHE II


          See how that boon, dear friends,      
          For thee is bootless found.      
          Say, where is any help?           596   
          What aid from mortals comes?      
Hast thou not seen this brief and powerless life,      
Fleeting as dreams, with which man’s purblind race      
          Is fast in fetters bound?           600   
          Never shall counsels vain      
          Of mortal men break through      
          The harmony of Zeus.      
    
ANTISTROPHE II


          This lesson have I learnt           604   
          Beholding thy sad fate,      
          Prometheus! Other strains      
          Come back upon my mind,      
When I sang wedding hymns around thy bath,           608   
And at thy bridal bed, when thou didst take      
          In wedlock’s holy bands      
          One of the same sire born,      
          Our own Hesione,           612   
          Persuading her with gifts      
          As wife to share thy couch.      
    
Enter IO in form like a fair woman with a heifer’s horns, 14 followed by the Spectre of ARGOS


Io.  What land is this? What people? Whom shall I      
          Say that I see thus vexed           616   
          With bit and curb of rock?      
          For what offence dost thou      
          Bear fatal punishment?      
          Tell me to what far land           620   
          I’ve wandered here in woe.      
            Ah me! ah me!      
Again the gadfly stings me miserable.      
          Spectre of Argos, thou, the earth-born one—           624   
          Ah, keep him off, O Earth!      
I fear to look upon that herdsman dread,      
          Him with ten thousand eyes:      
Ah lo! he cometh with his crafty look,           628   
Whom Earth refuses even dead to hold; 15      
          But coming from beneath,      
          He hunts me miserable,      
And drives me famished o’er the sea-beach sand.           632   
    
STROPHE


And still his waxened reed-pipe soundeth clear      
          A soft and slumberous strain;      
          O heavens! O ye Gods!      
Whither do these long wanderings lead me on?           636   
For what offence, O son of Cronos, what,      
          Hast thou thus bound me fast      
          In these great miseries?      
            Ah me! ah me!           640   
And why with terror of the gadfly’s sting      
Dost thou thus vex me, frenzied in my soul?      
Burn me with fire, or bury me in earth,      
Or to wild sea-beasts give me as a prey:           644   
          Nay, grudge me not, O King,      
          An answer to my prayers:      
Enough my many-wandered wanderings      
          Have exercised my soul,           648   
          Nor have I power to learn      
          How to avert the woe.      
  (To Prometheus.) Hear’st thou the voice of maiden crowned with horns?      
    
Prom.  Surely I heard the maid by gadfly driven,           652   
Daughter of Inachos, who warmed the heart      
Of Zeus with love, and now through Hera’s hate      
Is tried, perforce, with wanderings overlong?      
    
ANTISTROPHE


Io.  How is it that thou speak’st my father’s name?           656   
          Tell me, the suffering one,      
          Who art thou, who, poor wretch,      
    Who thus so truly nam’st me miserable,      
          And tell’st the plague from Heaven,           660   
          Which with its haunting stings      
          Wears me to death? Ah woe,      
    And I with famished and unseemly bounds      
    Rush madly, driven by Hera’s jealous craft.           664   
    Ah, who of all that suffer, born to woe,      
    Have trouble like the pain that I endure?      
          But thou, make clear to me      
          What yet for me remains,           668   
    What remedy, what healing for my pangs.      
          Show me, if thou dost know:      
          Speak out and tell to me,      
          The maid by wanderings vexed.           672   
    
Prom.  I will say plainly all thou seek’st to know;      
Not in dark tangled riddles, but plain speech,      
As it is meet that friends to friends should speak;      
Thou seest Prometheus who gave fire to men.           676   
    
Io.  O thou to men as benefactor known,      
Why, poor Prometheus, sufferest thou this pain?      
    
Prom.  I have but now mine own woes ceased to wail.      
    
Io.  Wilt thou not then bestow this boon on me?           680   
    
Prom.  Say what thou seek’st, for I will tell thee all.      
    
Io.  Tell me, who fettered thee in this ravine?      
    
Prom.  The counsel was of Zeus, the hand Hephæstos’.      
    
Io.  Of what offence dost thou the forfeit pay?           684   
    
Prom.  Thus much alone am I content to tell.      
    
Io.  Tell me, at least, besides, what end shall come      
To my drear wanderings; when the time shall be.      
    
Prom.  Not to know this is better than to know.           688   
    
Io.  Nay, hide not from me what I have to bear.      
    
Prom.  It is not that I grudge the boon to thee.      
    
Io.  Why then delayest thou to tell the whole?      
    
Prom.  Not from ill will, but loth to vex thy soul.           692   
    
Io.  Nay, care thou not beyond what pleases me.      
    
Prom.  If thou desire it I must speak. Hear then.      
    
Chor.  Not yet though; grant me share of pleasure too.      
Let us first ask the tale of her great woe,           696   
While she unfolds her life’s consuming chances;      
Her future sufferings let her learn from thee.      
    
Prom.  ’Tis thy work, Io, to grant these their wish,      
On other grounds and as thy father’s kin; 16           700   
For to bewail and moan one’s evil chance,      
Here where one trusts to gain a pitying tear      
From those who hear,—this is not labour lost.      
    
Io.  I know not how to disobey your wish;           704   
So ye shall learn the whole that ye desire      
In speech full clear. And yet I blush to tell      
The storm that came from God, and brought the loss      
Of maiden face, what way it seized on me.           708   
For nightly visions coming evermore      
Into my virgin bower, sought to woo me      
With glozing words. “O virgin greatly blest,      
Why art thou still a virgin when thou might’st           712   
Attain to highest wedlock? For with dart      
Of passion for thee Zeus doth glow, and fain      
Would make thee His. And thou, O child, spurn not      
The bed of Zeus, but go to Lerna’s field,           716   
Where feed thy father’s flocks and herds,      
That so the eye of Zeus may find repose      
From this His craving.” With such visions I      
      Was haunted every evening, till I dared           720   
      To tell my father all these dreams of night,      
      And he to Pytho and Dodona sent      
Full many to consult the Gods, that he      
Might learn what deeds and words would please Heaven’s lords.           724   
And they came bringing speech of oracles      
Shot with dark sayings, dim and hard to know.      
At last a clear word came to Inachos      
Charging him plainly, and commanding him           728   
To thrust me from my country and my home,      
To stray at large 17 to utmost bounds of earth;      
And, should he gainsay, that the fiery bolt      
Of Zeus should come and sweep away his race.           732   
And he, by Loxias’ oracles induced,      
Thrust me, against his will, against mine too,      
And drove me from my home; but spite of all,      
The curb of Zeus constrained him this to do.           736   
And then forthwith my face and mind were changed;      
And hornèd, as ye see me, stung to the quick      
By biting gadfly, I with maddened leap      
Rushed to Kerchneia’s fair and limpid stream,           740   
And fount of Lerna. 18 And a giant herdsman,      
Argos, full rough of temper, followed me,      
With many an eye beholding, on my track:      
And him a sudden and unlooked-for doom           744   
Deprived of life. And I, by gadfly stung,      
By scourge from Heaven am driven from land to land.      
What has been done thou hearest. And if thou      
Canst tell what yet remains of woe, declare it;           748   
Nor in thy pity soothe me with false words;      
For hollow words, I deem, are worst of ills.      
    
Chor.  Away, away, let be:      
      Ne’er thought I that such tales           752   
Would ever, ever come unto mine ears;      
Nor that such terrors, woes and outrages,      
      Hard to look on, hard to bear,      
Would chill my soul with sharp goad, double-edged.           756   
      Ah fate! Ah fate!      
I shudder, seeing Io’s fortune strange.      
    
Prom.  Thou art too quick in groaning, full of fear:      
Wait thou awhile until thou hear the rest.           760   
    
Chor.  Speak thou and tell. Unto the sick ’tis sweet      
Clearly to know what yet remains of pain.      
    
Prom.  Your former wish ye gained full easily.      
Your first desire was to learn of her           764   
The tale she tells of her own sufferings;      
Now therefore hear the woes that yet remain      
For this poor maid to bear at Hera’s hands.      
And thou, O child of Inachos! take heed           768   
To these my words, that thou mayst hear the goal      
Of all thy wanderings. First then, turning hence      
Towards the sunrise, tread the untilled plains,      
And thou shalt reach the Skythian nomads, those 19           772   
Who on smooth-rolling wagons dwell aloft      
In wicker houses, with far-darting bows      
Duly equipped. Approach thou not to these,      
But trending round the coasts on which the surf           776   
Beats with loud murmurs, 20 Traverse thou that clime.      
On the left hand there dwell the Chalybes, 21      
Who work in iron. Of these do thou beware,      
For fierce are they and most inhospitable;           780   
And thou wilt reach the river fierce and strong,      
True to its name. 22 This seek not thou to cross,      
For it is hard to ford, until thou come      
To Caucasos itself, of all high hills           784   
The highest, where a river pours its strength      
From the high peaks themselves. And thou must cross      
Those summits near the stars, must onward go      
Towards the south, where thou shalt find the host           788   
Of the Amâzons, hating men, whose home      
Shall one day be around Thermodon’s bank,      
By Themiskyra, 23 where the ravenous jaws      
Of Salmydessos ape upon the sea,           792   
Treacherous to sailors, stepdame stern to ships. 24      
And they right good-will shall be thy guides;      
And thou, hard by a broad pool’s narrow gates,      
Wilt pass to the Kimmerian isthmus. Leaving           796   
This boldly, thou must cross Mæotic channel; 25      
And there shall be great fame ’mong mortal men      
Of this thy journey, and the Bosporos 26      
    
Note 1. The words point probably to an eruption, then fresh in men’s memories, which had happened B. C. 476. [back]   
Note 2. By some editors this speech from “No, not so,” to “thou know’st how,” is assigned to Okeanos. [back]   
Note 3. These are, of course, the Amazons, who were believed to have come through Thrakè from the Tauric Chersonesos, and had left traces of their name and habits in the Attic traditions of Theseus. [back]   
Note 4. Beyond the plains of Skythia and the lake Mæotis (the sea of Azov) there would be the great river Okeanos, which was believed to flow round the earth. [back]   
Note 5. Sarmatia has been conjectured instead of Arabia. No Greek author sanctions the extension of the latter name to so remote a region as that north of the Caspian. [back]   
Note 6. The Greek leaves the object of the sympathy undefined, but it seems better to refer it to that which Atlas receives from the waste of waters around, and the dark world beneath, than to the pity shown to Prometheus. This has already been dwelt on in the first stanza, page 170. [back]   
Note 7. The passage that follows has for modern paleontologists the interest of coinciding with their views as to the progress of human society, and the condition of mankind during what has been called the “Stone” period. Comp. Lucretius, v. 955–984. [back]   
Note 8. Comp. Mr. Blakesley’s note on Herod. ii. 4, as showing that here there was the greater risk of faulty observation. [back]   
Note 9. Another reading gives perhaps a better sense—
                     “Memory, handmaid true.   
And mother of the Muses.”   
 [back]   
Note 10. In Greece, as throughout the East, the ox was used for all agricultural labours, the horse by the noble and the rich, either in war chariots, or stately processions, or in chariot races in the great games. [back]   
Note 11. Compare with this the account of the inventions of Palamedes in Sophocles, Fragm. 379. [back]   
Note 12. Here we can recognise the knowledge of one who had studied in the schools of Pythagoras, or had at any rate picked up their terminology. A more immediate connexion may perhaps be traced with the influence of Epimenides, who was said to have spent many years in searching out the healing virtues of plants, and to have written books about them. [back]   
Note 13. The lines that follow form almost a manual of the art of divination as then practised. The “ominous sounds” include chance words, strange cries, any unexpected utterance that connected itself with men’s fears for the future. The flights of birds were watched by the diviner as he faced the north, and so the region on the right hand was that of the sunrise, light, blessedness; on the left there were darkness and gloom and death. [back]   
Note 14. So Io was represented, we are told, by Greek sculptors (Herod. ii. 41), as Isis was by those of Egypt. The points of contact between the myth of Io and that of Prometheus, as adopted, or perhaps developed, by Æschylos, are—(1) that from her the destined deliverer of the chained Titan is to come; (2) that both were suffering from the cruelty of Zeus; (3) that the wandering of Io gave scope for the wild tales of far countries on which the imagination of the Athenians fed greedily. But, as the Suppliants may serve to show, the story itself had a strange fascination for him. In the birth of Epaphos, and Io’s release from her frenzy, he saw, it may be, a reconciliation of what had seemed hard to reconcile, a solution of the problems of the world, like in kind to that which was shadowed forth in the lost Prometheus Unbound. [back]   
Note 15. Argos had been slain by Hermes, and his eyes transferred by Hera to the tail of the peacock, and that bird was henceforth sacred to her. [back]   
Note 16. Inachos, the father of Io (identified with the Argive river of the same name), was, like all rivers, a son of Okeanos, and therefore brother to the nymphs who had come to see Prometheus. [back]   
Note 17. The words used have an almost technical meaning as applied to animals that were consecrated to the service of a God, and set fee to wander where they liked. The fate of Io, as at once devoted to Zeus and animalised in form, was thus shadowed forth in the very language of the Oracle. [back]   
Note 18. Lerna was the lake near the mouth of the Inachos, close to the sea. Kerchneia may perhaps be identified with the Kenchreæ, the haven of Korinth in later geographies. [back]   
Note 19. The wicker huts used by Skythian or Thrakian nomads (the Calmucks of modern geographers) are described by Herodotos (iv. 46) and are still in use. [back]   
Note 20. Sc., the N. E. boundary of the Euxine, where spurs of the Caucasos ridge approach the sea. [back]   
Note 21. The Chalybes are placed by geographers to the south of Colchis. The description of the text indicates a locality farther to the north. [back]   
Note 22. Probably the Araxes, which the Greeks would connect with a word conveying the idea of a torrent dashing on the rocks. The description seems to imply a river flowing into the Euxine from the Caucasos, and the condition is fulfilled by the Hypanis or Kouban. [back]   
Note 23. When the Amazons appear in contact with Greek history, they are found in Thrace. But they had come from the coast of Pontos, and near the mouth of the Thermodon (Thermeh). The words of Prometheus point to yet earlier migrations from the East. [back]   
Note 24. Here, as in Soph. Antig. (970), the name Salmydessos represents the rock-bound, havenless coast from the promontory of Thynias to the entrance of the Bosporos, which had given to the Black Sea its earlier name of Axenos, the “inhospitable.” [back]   
Note 25. The track is here in some confusion. From the Amazons south of the Caucasos, Io is to find her way to the Tauric Chersonese (the Crimea) and the Kimmerian Bosporos, which flows into the sea of Azov, and so to return to Asia. [back]   
Note 26. Here, as in a hundred other instances, a false etymology has become the parent of a myth. The name Bosporos is probably Asiatic, not Greek, and has an entirely different signification.

Shall take its name from thee. And Europe’s plain           800   
Then quitting, thou shalt gain the Asian coast.      
Doth not the all-ruling monarch of the Gods      
Seem all ways cruel? For, although a God,      
He, seeking to embrace this mortal maid,           804   
Imposed these wanderings on her. Thou hast found,      
O maiden! bitter suitor for thy hand;      
For great as are the ills thou now hast heard,      
Know that as yet not e’en the prelude’s known.           808   
    
Io.        Ah woe! woe! woe!      
    
Prom.  Again thou groan’st and criest. What wilt do      
When thou shalt learn the evils yet to come?      
    
Chor.  What! are there troubles still to come for her?           812   
    
Prom.  Yea, stormy sea of woe most lamentable.      
    
Io.  What gain is it to live? Why cast I not      
Myself at once from this high precipice,      
And, dashed to earth, be free from all my woes?           816   
Far better were it once for all to die      
Than all one’s day to suffer pain and grief.      
    
Prom.  My struggles then full hardly thou wouldst bear,      
For whom there is no destiny of death;           820   
For that might bring a respite from my woes:      
But now there is no limit to my pangs      
Till Zeus be hurled out from His sovereignty.      
    
Io.  What! shall Zeus e’er be hurled from His high state?           824   
    
Prom.  Thou wouldst rejoice, I trow, to see that fall.      
    
Io.  How should I not, when Zeus so foully wrongs me?      
    
Prom.  That this is so thou now mayst hear from me.      
    
Io.  Who then shall rob Him of His sceptred sway?           828   
    
Prom.  Himself shall do it by His own rash plans.      
    
Io.  But how? Tell this, unless it bringeth harm.      
    
Prom.  He shall wed one for whom one day He’ll grieve.      
    
Io.  Heaven-born or mortal? Tell, if tell thou mayst.           832   
    
Prom.  Why ask’st thou who? I may not tell thee that      
    
Io.  Shall His bride hurl Him from His throne of might?      
    
Prom.  Yea; she shall bear child mightier than his sire.      
    
Io.  Has He no way to turn aside that doom?           836   
    
Prom.  No, none; unless I from my bonds be loosed. 1      
    
Io.  Who then shall loose thee ’gainst the will of Zeus?      
    
Prom.  It must be one of thy posterity.      
    
Io.  What, shall a child of mine free thee from ills?           840   
    
Prom.  Yea, the third generation after ten. 2      
    
Io.  No more thine oracles are clear to me.      
    
Prom.  Nay, seek not thou thine own drear fate to know.      
    
Io.  Do not, a boon presenting, then withdraw it.           844   
    
Prom.  Of two alternatives, I’ll give thee choice.      
    
Io.  Tell me of what, then give me leave to choose.      
    
Prom.  I give it then. Choose, or that I should tell      
Thy woes to come, or who shall set me free.           848   
    
Chor.  Of these be willing one request to grant      
To her, and one to me; nor scorn my words:      
Tell her what yet of wandering she must bear,      
And me who shall release thee. This I crave.           852   
    
Prom.  Since ye are eager, I will not refuse      
To utter fully all that ye desire.      
Thee, Io, first I’ll tell thy wanderings wild,      
Thou, write it in the tablets of thy mind.           856   
When thou shalt cross the straits, of continents      
The boundary, 3 take thou the onward path      
On to the fiery-hued and sun-tracked East.      
[And first of all, to frozen Northern blasts           860   
Thou’lt come, and there beware the rushing whirl,      
Lest it should come upon thee suddenly,      
And sweep thee onward with the cloud-rack wild;] 4      
Crossing the sea-surf till thou come at last           864   
Unto Kisthene’s Gorgoneian plains,      
Where dwell the grey-haired virgin Phorkides, 5      
Three, swan-shaped, with one eye between them all      
And but one tooth; whom nor the sun beholds           868   
With radiant beams, nor yet the moon by night:      
And near them are their wingèd sisters three,      
The Gorgons, serpent-tressed, and hating men,      
Whom mortal wight may not behold and live.           872   
Such is one ill I bid thee guard against;      
Now hear another monstrous sight: Beware      
The sharp-beaked hounds of Zeus that never bark, 6      
The Gryphons, and the one-eyed mounted host           876   
Of Arimaspians, who around the stream      
That flows o’er gold, the ford of Pluto, dwell: 7      
Draw not thou night to them. But distant land      
Thou shalt approach, the swarthy tribes who dwell           880   
By the sun’s fountain, 8 Æthiopia’s stream:      
By its banks wend thy way until thou come To      
that great fall where from the Bybline hills      
The Neilos pours its pure and holy flood;           884   
And it shall guide thee to Neilotic land,      
Three-angled, where, O Io, ’tis decreed      
For thee and for thy progeny to found      
A far-off colony. And if of this           888   
Aught seem to thee as stammering speech obscure,      
Ask yet again and learn it thoroughly:      
Far more of leisure have I than I like.      
    
Chor.  If thou hast aught to add, aught left untold           892   
Of her sore-wasting wanderings, speak it out;      
But if thou hast said all, then grant to us      
The boon we asked. Thou dost not, sure, forget it.      
    
Prom.  The whole course of her journeying she hath heard,           896   
And that she show she hath not heard in vain      
I will tell out what troubles she hath borne      
Before she came here, giving her sure proof      
Of these my words. The greater bulk of things           900   
I will pass o’er, and to the very goal      
Of all thy wanderings go. For when thou cam’st      
To the Molossian plains, and by the grove 9      
Of lofty-ridged Dodona, and the shrine           904   
Oracular of Zeus Thesprotian,      
And the strange portent of the talking oaks,      
By which full clearly, not in riddle dark,      
Thou wast addressed as noble spouse of Zeus,—           908   
If aught of pleasure such things give to thee,—      
Thence strung to frenzy, thou didst rush along      
The sea-coast’s path to Rhea’s mighty gulf, 10      
In backward way from whence thou now art vexed,           912   
And for all time to come that reach of sea,      
Know well, from thee Ionian shall be called,      
To all men record of thy journeyings.      
These then are tokens to thee that my mind           916   
Sees somewhat more than that is manifest.      
What follows (to the Chorus) I will speak to you and her      
In common, on the track of former words      
Returning once again. A city stands,           920   
Canobos, at its country’s furthest bound,      
Hard by the mouth and silt-bank of the Nile;      
There Zeus shall give thee back thy mind again, 11      
With hand that works no terror touching thee,—           924   
Touch only—and thou then shalt bear a child      
Of Zeus begotten, Epaphos, “Touch-born,”      
Swarthy of hue, whose lot shall be to reap      
The whole plain watered by the broad-streamed Neilos:           928   
And in the generation fifth from him      
A household numbering fifty shall return      
Against their will to Argos, in their flight      
From wedlock with their cousins. 12 And they too           932   
(Kites but a little space behind the doves),      
With eager hopes pursuing marriage rites,      
Beyond pursuit shall come; and God shall grudge      
To give up their sweet bodies. And the land           936   
Pelasgian 13 shall receive them, when by stroke      
Of woman’s murderous hand these men shall lie      
Smitten to death by daring deed of night:      
For every bride shall take her husband’s life,           940   
And dip in blood the sharp two-edgèd sword      
(So to my foes may Kypris show herself!) 14      
Yet one of that fair band shall love persuade      
Her husband not to slaughter, and her will           944   
Shall lose its edge; and she shall make her choice      
Rather as weak than murderous to be known.      
And she at Argos shall a royal seed      
Bring forth (long speech ’twould take to tell this clear)           948   
Famed for his arrows, who shall set me free 15      
From these my woes. Such was the oracle      
Mine ancient mother Themis, Titan-born,      
Gave to me; but the manner and the means,—           952   
That needs a lengthy tale to tell the whole,      
And thou canst nothing gain by learning it.      
    
Io.  Eleleu! Oh, Eleleu! 16      
The throbbing pain inflames me, and the mood           956   
      Of frenzy-smitten rage;      
      The gadfly’s pointed stings,      
      Not forged with fire, attacks,      
And my heart beats against my breast with fear.           960   
      Mine eyes whirl round and round:      
      Out of my course I’m borne      
By the wild spirit of fierce agony,      
      And cannot curb my lips,           964   
And turbid speech at random dashes on      
Upon the waves of dread calamity.      
    
STROPHE I


Chor.  Wise, very wise was he      
Who first in thought conceived this maxim sage,           968   
      And spread it with his speech, 17—      
That the best wedlock is with equals found,      
And that a craftsman, born to work with hands,      
      Should not desire to wed           972   
Or with the soft luxurious heirs of wealth,      
Or with the race that boast their lineage high.      
    
ANTISTROPHE I


      Oh ne’er, oh ne’er, dread Fates,      
May ye behold me as the bride of Zeus,           976   
      The partner of His couch,      
Nor may I wed with any heaven—born spouse!      
For I shrink back, beholding Io’s lot      
      Of loveless maindenhood,           980   
Consumed and smitten low exceedingly      
By the wild wanderings from great Hera sent!      
    
STROPHE II


To me, when wedlock is on equal terms,      
        It gives no cause to fear:           984   
Ne’er may the love of any of the Gods,      
        The strong Gods, look on me      
        With glance I cannot ’scape!      
    
ANTISTROPHE II


That fate is was that none can war against,           988   
        Source of resourceless ill;      
Nor know I what might then become of me:      
        I see not how to ’scape      
        The counsel deep of Zeus.           992   
    
Prom.  Yea, of a truth shall Zeus, though stiff of will,      
Be brought full low. Such bed of wedlock now      
Is He preparing, one to cast Him forth      
In darkness from His sovereignty and throne.           996   
And then the curse His father Cronos spake      
Shall have its dread completion, even that      
He uttered when he left his ancient throne;      
And from these troubles no one of the Gods           1000   
But me can clearly show the way to ’scape.      
I know the time and manner: therefore now      
Let Him sit fearless, in His peals on high      
Putting His trust, and shaking in His hands           1004   
His darts fire-breathing. Nought shall they avail      
To hinder Him from falling shamefully      
A fall intolerable. Such a combatant      
He arms against Himself, a marvel dread,           1008   
Who shall a fire discover mightier far      
Than the red levin, and a sound more dread      
Than roaring of the thunder, and shall shiver      
That plague sea-born that causeth earth to quake,           1012   
The trident, weapon of Poseidon’s strength:      
And stumbling on this evil, He shall learn      
How far apart a king’s lot from a slave’s.      
    
Chor.  What thou dost with thou mutterest against Zeus.           1016   
    
Prom.  Things that shall be, and things I wish, I speak.      
    
Chor.  And must we look for one to master Zeus?      
    
Prom.  Yea, troubles harder far than these are His.      
    
Chor.  Art not afraid to vent such words as these?           1020   
    
Prom.  What can I fear whose fate is not to die?      
    
Chor.  But He may send on thee worse pain than this.      
    
Prom.  So let Him do: nought finds me prepared.      
    
Chor.  Wisdom is theirs who Adrasteia worship. 18           1024   
    
Prom.  Worship then, praise and flatter Him that rules;      
My care for Zeus is nought, and less than nought:      
Let Him act, let Him rule this little while,      
E’en as He will; for long He shall not rule           1028   
Over the Gods. But lo! I seed at hand      
The courier of the Gods, the minister      
Of our new sovereign. Doubtless he has come      
To bring me tidings of some new device.           1032   
    
Enter HERMES


Herm.  Thee do I speak to,—thee, the teacher wise,
The bitterly o’er-bitter, who ’gainst Gods      
Hast sinned in giving gifts to short-lived men—      
I speak to thee, the filcher of bright fire.           1036   
The Father bids thee say what marriage thou      
Dost vaunt, and who shall hurl Him from His might;      
And this too not in dark mysterious speech,      
But tell each point out clearly. Give me not,           1040   
Prometheus, task of double journey. Zeus,      
Thou seest, is not with such words appeased.      
    
Prom.  Stately of utterance, full of haughtiness      
Thy speech, as fits a messenger of Gods.           1044   
Ye yet are young in your new rule, and think      
To dwell in painless towers. Have I not      
Seen two great rulers driven forth from thence? 19      
And now the third, who reigneth, I shall see           1048   
In basest, quickest fall. Seem I to thee      
To shrink and quail before these new-made Gods?      
Far, very far from that am I. But thou,      
Track once again the path by which thou camest;           1052   
Thou shalt learn nought of what thou askest me.      
    
Herm.  It was by such self-will as this before      
That thou didst bring these sufferings on thyself.      
    
Prom.  I for my part, be sure, would never change           1056   
My evil state for that thy bondslave’s lot.      
    
Herm.  To be the bondslave of this rock, I trow,      
Is better than to be Zeus’ trusty herald!      
    
Prom.  So it is meet the insulter to insult.           1060   
    
Herm.  Thou waxest proud, ’twould seem, of this thy doom.      
    
Prom.  Wax proud! God grant that I may see my foes      
Thus waxing proud, and thee among the rest!      
    
Herm.  Dost blame me then for thy calamities?           1064   
    
Prom.  In one short sentence—all the Gods I hate,      
Who my good turns with evil turns repay.      
    
Herm.  Thy words prove thee with no slight madness plagued.      
    
Prom.  If to hate foes be madness, mad I am.           1068   
    
Herm.  Not one could bear thee wert thou prosperous.      
    
Prom.  Ah me!      
    
Herm.  That word is all unknown to Zeus.      
    
Prom.  Time waxing old can many a lesson teach.           1072   
    
Herm.  Yet thou at least hast not true wisdom learnt.      
    
Prom.  I had not else addressed a slave like thee.      
    
Herm.  Thou wilt say nought the Father asks, ’twould seem.      
    
Prom.  Fine debt I owe Him, favour to repay.           1076   
    
Herm.  Me as a boy thou scornest then, forsooth.      
    
Prom.  And art thou not a boy, and sillier far,      
If that thou thinkest to learn aught from me?      
There is no torture nor device by which           1080   
Zeus can impel me to disclose these things      
Before these bonds that outrage me be loosed.      
Let then the blazing levin-flash be hurled;      
With white-winged snow-storm and with earth-born thunders           1084   
Let Him disturb and trouble all that is;      
Nought of these things shall force me to declare      
Whose hand shall drive Him from His sovereignty.      
    
Herm.  See if thou findest any help in this.           1088   
    
Prom.  Long since all this I’ve seen, and formed my plans.      
    
Herm.  O fool, take heart, take heart at last in time,      
To form right thoughts for these thy present woes.      
    
Prom.  Like one who soothes a wave, thy speech in vain           1092   
Vexes my soul. But deem not thou that I,      
Fearing the will of Zeus, shall e’er become      
As womanised in mind, or shall entreat      
Him whom I greatly loathe, with upturned hand,           1096   
In woman’s fashion, from these bonds of mine      
To set me free. Far, far am I from that.      
    
Herm.  It seems that I, saying much, shall speak in vain;      
For thou in nought by prayers art pacified,           1000   
Or softened in thy heart, but like a colt      
Fresh harnessed, thou dost champ thy bit, and strive,      
And fight against the reins. Yet thou art stiff      
In weak device; for self-will, by itself,           1104   
In one who is not wise, is less than nought.      
Look to it, if thou disobey my words,      
How great a storm and triple wave of ills, 20      
Not to be ’scaped, shall come on thee; for first,           1108   
With thunder and the levin’s blazing flash      
The Father this ravine of rocks shall crush,      
And shall thy carcase hide, and stern embrace      
Of stony arms shall keep thee in thy place.           1112   
And having traversed space of time full long,      
Thou shalt come back to light, and then his hound,      
The wingèd hound of Zeus, the ravening eagle,      
Shall greedily make banquet of thy flesh,           1116   
Coming all day an uninvited guest,      
And glut himself upon thy liver dark.      
And of that anguish look not for the end,      
Before some God shall come to bear thy woes,           1120   
And will to pass to Hades’ sunless realm,      
And the dark cloudy depths of Tartaros. 21      
Wherefore take heed. No feigned boast is this,      
But spoken all too truly; for the lips           1124   
Of Zeus know not to speak in lying speech,      
But will perform each single word. And thou,      
Search well, be wise, nor think that self-willed pride      
Shall ever better prove than counsel good.           1128   
    
Chor.  To us doth Hermes seem to utter words      
Not out of season; for he bids thee quit      
Thy self-willed pride and seek for counsel good.      
Hearken thou to him. To the wise of soul           1132   
It is foul shame to sin persistently.      
    
Prom.  To me who knew it all      
He hath this message borne;      
And that a foe from foes           1136   
Should suffer is not strange.      
Therefore on me be hurled      
The sharp-edged wreath of fire;      
And let heaven’s vault be stirred           1140   
With thunder and the blasts      
Of fiercest winds; and earth      
From its foundations strong,      
E’en to its deepest roots,           1144   
Let storm-wind make to rock;      
And let the ocean wave,      
With wild and foaming surge,      
Be heaped up to the paths           1148   
Where move the stars of heaven;      
And to dark Tartaros      
Let Him my carcase hurl,      
With mighty blasts of force:           1152   
Yet me He shall not slay.      
    
Herm.  Such words and thoughts from one      
Brain-stricken one may hear.      
What space divides his state           1156   
From frenzy? What repose      
Hath he from maddened rage?      
But ye who pitying stand      
And share his bitter griefs,           1160   
Quickly from hence depart,      
Lest the relentless roar      
Of thunder stun your soul.      
    
Chor.  With other words attempt           1164   
To counsel and persuade,      
And I will hear: for now      
Thou hast this word thrust in      
That we may never bear.           1168   
How dost thou bid me train      
My soul to baseness vile?      
With him I will endure      
Whatever is decreed.           1172   
Traitors I’ve learned to hate,      
Nor is there any plague      
That more than this I loathe.      
    
Herm.  Nay then, remember ye           1176   
What now I say, nor blame      
Your fortune: never say      
That Zeus hath cast you down      
To evil not foreseen.           1180   
Not so; ye cast yourselves:      
For now with open eyes,      
Not taken unawares,      
In Atè’s endless net           1184   
Ye shall entangled be      
By folly of your own.  [A pause, and then flashes of lightning and peals of thunder 22      
    
Prom.  Yea, now in very deed,      
No more in word alone,           1188   
The earth shakes to and fro,      
And the loud thunder’s voice      
Bellows hard by, and blaze      
The flashing levin-fires;           1192   
And tempests whirl the dust,      
And gusts of all wild winds      
On one another leap,      
In wild conflicting blasts,           1196   
And sky with sea is blent:      
Such is the storm from Zeus      
That comes as working fear,      
In terrors manifest.           1200   
O Mother venerable!      
O Æther! rolling round      
The common light of all,      
Seest thou what wrongs I bear?           1204   
    
Note 1. The lines refer to the story that Zeus loved Thetis, the daughter of Nereus, and followed her to Caucasos, but abstained from marriage with her because Prometheus warned him that the child born of that union should overthrow his father. Here the future is used of what was still contingent only. In the lost play of the Trilogy the myth was possibly brought to its conclusion and connected with the release of Prometheus. [back]   
Note 2. Heracles, whose genealogy was traced through Alcmena, Perseus, Danae, Danaos, and seven other names, to Epaphos and Io. [back]   
Note 3. Probably the Kimmerian Bosporos. The Tanais or Phasis has, however, been conjectured. [back]   
Note 4. The history of the passage in brackets is curious enough to call for a note. It is not in any extant MS., but it is found in a passage quoted by Galen as from the Prometheus Bound, and is inserted here by Mr. Paley. [back]   
Note 5. Kisthene belongs to the geography of legend, lying somewhere on the shore of the great ocean-river in Lybia or Æthiopia, at the end of the world, a great mountain in the far West, beyond the Hesperides, the dwelling-place, as here, of the Gorgons, the daughters of Phorkys. Those first named are the Graiæ. [back]   
Note 6. Here, like the “winged hound” of verse 1043, page 203, for the eagles that are the messengers of Zeus. [back]   
Note 7. We are carried back again from the fabled West to the fabled East. The Arimaspians, with one eye, and the Grypes or Gryphons (the griffins of mediæval heraldry), quadrupeds with the wings and beaks of eagles, were placed by most writers (Herod, iv. 13, 27) in the north of Europe, in or beyond the terra incognita of Skythia. The mention of the “ford of Pluto” and Æthiopia, however, may possibly imply (if we identify it, as Mr. Paley does, with the Tartessos of Spain, or Bœtis—Guadalquivir) that Æschylos followed another legend which placed them in the West. There is possibly a paronomasia between Pluto, the God of Hades, and Plutos, the ideal God of riches. [back]   
Note 8. The name was applied by later writers (Quintus Curtius, iv. 7, 22; Lucretius, vi. 848) to the fountain in the temple of Jupiter Ammon in the great Oasis. The “river Æthiops” may be purely imaginary, but it may also suggest the possibility of some vague knowledge of the Niger, or more probably of the Nile itself in the upper regions of its course. The “Bybline hills” carry the name Byblos, which we only read of as belonging to a town in the Delta, to the Second Cataract. [back]   
Note 9. Comp. Sophocles, Trachin, v. 1168. [back]   
Note 10. The Adriatic or Ionian Gulf. [back]   
Note 11. In the Suppliants, Zeus is said to have soothed her, and restored her to her human consciousness by his “divine breathings.” The thought underlying the legend may be taken either as a distortion of some primitive tradition, or as one of the “unconscious prophecies” of heathenism. The deliverer is not to be born after the common manner of men, and is to have a divine as well as a human parentage. [back]   
Note 12. See the argument of the Suppliants, who, as the daughters of Danaos, descended from Epaphos, are here referred to. The passage is noticeable as showing that the theme of that tragedy was already present to the poet’s thoughts. [back]   
Note 13. Argos. So, in the Suppliants, Pelasgos is the mythical king of the Apian land who receives them. [back]   
Note 14. Hypermnæstra, who spared Lynceus, and by him became the mother of Abas and a line of Argive kings. [back]   
Note 15. Heracles, who came to Caucasos, and with his arrows slew the eagle that devoured Prometheus. [back]   
Note 16. The word is simply an interjection of pain, but one so characteristic that I have thought it better to reproduce it than to give any English equivalent. [back]   
Note 17. The maxim, “Marry which with a woman thine equal,” was ascribed to Pittacos. [back]   
Note 18. The Euhemerism of later scholiasts derived the name from a king Adrastos, who was said to have been the first to build a temple to Nemesis, and so the power thus worshipped was called after his name. A better etymology leads us to see in it the idea of the “inevitable” law of retribution working unseen by men, and independently even of the arbitrary will of the Gods, and bringing destruction upon the proud and haughty. [back]   
Note 19. Comp. Agam. 162–6. [back]   
Note 20. Either a mere epithet of intensity, as in our “thrice blest,” or rising from the supposed fact that every third wave was larger and more impetuous than the others, like the fluctus decumanus of the Latins, or from the sequence of three great waves which some have noted as a common phenomenon in storms. [back]   
Note 21. Here again we have a strange shadowing forth of the mystery of Atonement, and what we have learnt to call “vicarious” satisfaction. In the later legend, Cheiron, suffering from the agony of his wounds, resigns his immortality, and submits to die in place of the ever-living death to which Prometheus was doomed. [back]   
Note 22. [It is noticeable that both Æschylos and Sophocles have left us tragedies which end in a thunderstorm as an element of effect. But the contrast between the Prometheus and the Œdipus at Colonos as to the impression left in the one case of serene reconciliation, and in the other of violent antagonism, is hardly less striking than the resemblance in the outward phenomena which are common to the two.]